#so he has decided that that is just going to be his name now

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, who always gives the coffee shop he goes to a fake name for no reason other than to lie, hits it off with the cute barista behind the counter.

The highlight of every Monday-Friday for the past year has been making this barista blush. It finally pays off being he gets asked out on a date by this very cute barista…’s best friend because, ��He wants to go out with you but he won’t ask. So take him out. On Saturday. And your coffee is free today.”

So, a win is a win.

Only problem? Barista Steve thinks they have the same name.

[rafayelxsylusho]

the jealous fic series is sooo good! can’t wait for the sylus one

I almost forgot about my man. Thanks for reminding me!

Hope you like it!!

How the LADS men fu€k jealousy out of you.

TW: SMUT

***There is a quote from a book that some of you have probably read before, I just really wanted to use it in one of sylus fics😊😊***

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

You had been looking forward to surprising Sylus at home, craving some much needed alone time with him after recent missions that kept you apart. However, once you got to his place you found the house quiet and empty. No sign of Sylus anywhere. A flicker of concern began to rise in your chest as you wandered the halls, calling out his name, but only the echo of your own voice greeted you.

You found Luke and Kieran in the study, engaged in their usual antics, lounging on the plush leather sofas, having a lively discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed you.

"Look Kieran, our favorite hunter came to visit," Luke drawled. "Here to see the boss man, y/n?"

Kieran sat up and offered you a genuine smile. "Boss isn't here at the moment," he explained "He's been called away to attend a rather important auction tonight."

"Auction?" you asked, frowning. "What auction?"

Luke leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The big one. The one everyone's talking about. The one boss has been prepping for all week."

You try to recall any mention of an important auction Sylus had spoken of, but as much as you rack your brain you come up empty. It's not like him to keep something like this a secret from you. A flicker of concern crosses your face as you wonder why he wouldn't have mentioned it to you directly.

"So, when will he be back?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as you felt a flutter of disappointment at his absence.

Kieran shrugged. "Hard to say. These things can go on for hours. Days even. Depends on how stubborn the other bidders are."

Luke snorted. "And how determined Sylus is to win."

You find yourself waiting for Sylus to return home from the mysterious auction. The hours tick by, and to pass the time, you decide to engage in some friendly competition with Luke and Kieran. The three of you spend the next couple of hours engrossed in a highspeed, adrenaline pumping videogame.

In between races, you raid the well stocked kitchen, returning with an array of tasty treats and Sylus' prized collection of gourmet chocolates.

As the night wears on you can't help but glance at the clock more frequently, wondering what's keeping Sylus. A regular auction should have ended by now, and while he is known for his meticulous attention to business dealings, this delay is starting to feel a bit longer than usual.

You decide to reach out to Sylus. You pull out your phone and dial his his private number, the one reserved for emergencies and urgent matters. After a few rings, his deep, smooth voice fills your ear.

"Y/n, what is it?" his tone unusually distracted. It's clear that he's in the midst of something important, his words clipped and hurried. The sound of muffled voices and distant commotion can be heard in the background, hinting at a crowded and chaotic environment.

"Hey, I'm at your place with Luke and Kieran," you explain, trying to keep your own voice casual despite the unease you feel. "I've been waiting for you to come home. Is everything alright?"

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Sylus' mind as he considers his response. "Yes, everything's fine," he says at last "This auction... it's taking longer than expected. Complications arose with a few of the other attendees." He sighs, and you can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his exasperation and stress. "I'm doing what I can to wrap things up, but it may be a while."

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a woman's voice, a stranger's melodic tone. The woman's words are muffled, but her term of endearment "Sylus darling" rings out crystal clear through the phone speaker.

You stiffen, gripping the phone tighter as a flurry of unwelcome thoughts and emotions wash over you. A cold, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly feel like an intruder in the intimate moment.

"I apologize, kitten, but I must go," Sylus says abruptly, his voice tight and strained. "I'll deal with this and be home as soon as I can. Wait for me" With that, he ends the call, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned disbelief.

"Shit, was that Ira?" Luke asks looking at Kieran.

Your head snaps up as Luke's question hangs in the air, a sense of confusion etched on your face. Kieran, noticing your expression, quickly elbows Luke to silence him, shooting him a warning glare.

"Shh, don't be an idiot," Kieran hisses under his breath, though not quiet enough that you don't hear him. "You shouldn't go around throwing around names like that without knowing for sure."

Kieran clears his throat, his expression turning somber as he sees the confusion and hurt in your eyes. "Ira is just an old business partner of Sylus," he explains carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "They have a history together, but it's all about work. Nothing more.

Unable to shake the sense of unease in your gut, you eventually make your way upstairs to Sylus' bedroom, hoping to find some sense of comfort and familiarity in the space that has become so closely associated with the man you've come to love so deeply. You curl up on the plush, king-sized bed, inhaling the faint scent of Sylus' cologne that still lingers on the silken sheets. As exhaustion finally overtakes you, you drift off to a fitful sleep, your dreams fragmented images of Sylus and the unknown woman, their figures intertwined in ways that make your heart ache with a painful, jealous fervor.

When you awaken sometime later, the first light of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains, you reach out instinctively for Sylus, only to find the space beside you cold and empty. You check your phone, hoping for a message or a call, but there is nothing.

You know you can't stay here, not like this, not with the way your mind is racing. The feelings inside you threaten to consume you, jealousy, anger, and a deep, abiding fear of losing the man you love.

As you zip up your backpack, the weight of your decision to leave Sylus' place feels both heavy and necessary. You take a deep breath and make your way back to your apartment.

Once inside the familiar confines of your own space the memory of Tara's camping invitation surfaces, and you realize that the solitude of the city may be more than you can bear in your current state of mind. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone and dial Tara's number, praying that she hasn't already made other plans or filled the available spots on her trip. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Tara," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I know I already declined the camping trip, but... I've changed my mind. If the offer still stands, I'd love to join you and the team this weekend."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise and delight in Tara's voice as she responds. "Of course, y/n! You're more than welcome to join us. I'm so glad you changed your mind," she says warmly, her words a balm to your battered soul. You thank Tara profusely, already feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at the prospect of escaping the city and the thoughts on your mind.

During the trip Tara and the rest of the team were wonderful hosts, ensuring that you were kept busy and distracted with hikes, campfire stories, and hearty meals. As the night of the trip wears on you lose yourself in the simple joys of the outdoors, the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke, the distant hooting of an owl, the warmth of your friends gathered around the flickering fire. Slowly but surely, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the painful thoughts of Sylus and the mysterious woman start to recede.

By the time the weekend draws to a close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the fresh air and company of your friends having done wonders to clear your head. The feelings of jealousy are still there, lingering in the back of your mind, but they no longer threaten to consume you as they once did.

As you step into your apartment in the late afternoon, the familiar scent of home envelops you, offering a sense of comfort and security that you desperately crave. The weight of the weekend's emotions and the long journey back to the city have left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Without hesitation, you make your way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime and weariness of the past couple of days. As the hot water cascades over your skin, you let out a sigh, allowing the steam to fill your lungs and cleanse your mind.

You linger in the shower for longer than necessary, the heat of the water soothing your aching muscles and helping to melt away the lingering tension that has taken up residence in your body. By the time you step out, your skin is pink and tingling, and a sense of renewed energy courses through your veins.

As you towel yourself dry, you remember the need to charge your phone, which had died during the camping trip due to the lack of a reliable power source. You pad out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the hardwood floor as you make your way to your backpack. Fishing out your phone from the depths of the bag, you plug it in and watch as the screen flickers to life, the dim glow illuminating your face, the phone chimes and you take a deep breath before unlocking the screen. The anticipation of seeing Sylus' name among the list of notifications makes your heart race in your chest, a mix of hope and dread swirling within you.

As the messages load, you scan the list of senders, your eyes widening as you realize that there is not a single one from Sylus among them. You set your phone down on the kitchen counter, the glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room as you rummage through the cabinets for a glass. The house feels strangely quiet, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the campsite just hours before. As you fill your glass with cool, refreshing water and take a long sip, you can't help but let your mind wander back to the memory of Sylus' curt goodbye and the sound of that woman's voice, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that even the cold water can't wash away.

You set the glass down with a heavy sigh, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened window above the sink. In the dim light, you can see the weariness etched into the lines of your face, the shadows beneath your eyes a testament to the restless nights, and just as you're about to turn away from the window, a sudden movement outside catches your eye. You lean closer, peering out into the darkness, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see a tall, familiar figure standing beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

It's Sylus.

He stands motionless, his dark silhouette unmistakable even at this distance. He seems to be looking directly at your window, though you're not sure if he can actually see you through the darkness and the reflection on the glass. You take a tentative step back from the window, lots of questions race through your mind. What is Sylus doing here? How long has he been waiting? You freeze at the sound of a knock, your heart leaping into your throat as a wave of panic and adrenaline surges through your body. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, the sound of Sylus' fist against the wood unmistakable.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart as you make your way towards the door. You pause for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, and take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open.

"Sylus," you say, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Even in the dim light of the hallway, you can see the intensity of his gaze, the crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you, seeing straight into your very soul. He's dressed in a dark shirt and pants, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in agitation.

"Hello kitten" Sylus murmurs, "how was your trip?"

"It was fine," you say shortly. "How did you know I went on a trip?"

Your mind races as you wonder how Sylus could possibly know about your last-minute decision to join Tara and the others for the weekend. You didn't mention it to anyone. So how did he find out?

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He looks tired, you notice, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But there's a intensity to his gaze, a fierce focus that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I have my ways," he says, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips "The real question is, why did you leave without telling me?" His voice is low and smooth, but there's an undercurrent of frustration beneath the calm exterior. 

"Come in," you say softly, stepping back to allow him entry. As Sylus steps into your apartment, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he moves past you.

Sylus turns to face you, his crimson eyes searching yours in the dim light cast by the single lamp you left on before your trip. He looks different in the low light, softer somehow, the harsh angles of his face gentled by the shadows. But there's still a intensity to his gaze, a fierce determination that makes your heart race in your chest.

You stand there, clutching the towel tightly around your body. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the emotions that have been building for days.

"Well? Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we going to stand here all night?" There's a undercurrent of impatience in his voice, a frustration that belies the casual tone.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and gesture towards the couch. "Of course, please, make yourself comfortable," you say, the words sound too formal to your own ears.

You turn to head to your bedroom, suddenly feeling the chill of the air on your damp skin beneath the thin towel "I'm going to change," you say over your shoulder, not looking back at him as you make your way to your bedroom.

You gasp as you feel Sylus' strong hand grab the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the damp skin and pulling you gently but firmly towards him. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your heart stuttering in your chest as you find your back pressed against the firm wall of his chest.

"Sylus," you breathe out "what are you doing?"

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his long fingers splaying across the curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the towel, the warmth seeping into your flesh and making your pulse race.

Sylus leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur. "I couldn't let you walk away without getting an answer first," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me, kitten, why did you leave without telling me? There's a undercurrent of emotion in his voice, a frustration that he can't quite hide. His grip on your neck tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make it clear that he has no intention of letting you go until he gets the answers he wants. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy of a man on the brink of losing control. It both frightens and exhilarates you, the power he holds in his hands, the way he can make you feel with a single touch.

"Sylus, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away from him. "Not like this. I can't think straight when you touch me like this."

Sylus chuckles darkly, a low, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through his chest pressed against your back. His fingers tighten briefly on your hip before releasing you, only to trail slowly up the curve of your side, his touch feather light and teasing. "Like what, kitten?" he murmurs in your ear. "I haven't even touched you yet, not the way I want to. Not the way you need me to."

His hand reaches the side of your breast, his fingers grazing the swell of it through the damp towel. You can feel your nipple tightening in response, betraying your body's desire for his touch.

"Tell me why you left, y/n," Sylus demands, his voice hardening with impatience. "And don't lie to me."

You take a shaky breath, Sylus' proximity and touch making it hard to focus on anything else. "I...I needed some time to myself," you admit "To clear my head and think things through."

Sylus' hand stills on your breast, his fingers curling possessively around the soft mound. "Think things through about what?" he asks, a hint of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the smooth surface of his voice.

You swallow hard, knowing you can't avoid the conversation any longer. "About us," you confess, the words falling from your lips "About what this...thing is between us. I didn't know how to handle it, so I left."

His lips brush against your shoulder, the ghost of a kiss that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the heat of his breath, the dampness of his tongue as he traces the curve of your collarbone. "Tell me, kitten," he breathes against your skin, "is this what you needed to escape from? Me, touching you like this? Wanting you like this?"

His hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Because if it is, I can make it so much worse. Or so much better," Sylus promises darkly "All you have to do is say the word, sweetie."

"Who is she, sy?" You whisper, words barely audible but you know he heard you. Sylus' teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips curling into a smirk against your flesh. He knows exactly what you're asking, but he's in no hurry to answer, not when he has you like this bare, breathless, and at his mercy.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, the dampness of the water that clings to you. "You know, for someone who needed to clear their head, you seem awfully focused on her." Sylus' hand slides down to your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your backside as he holds you close.

"Ira is someone I knew from my past. We were discussing a mutual investment opportunity. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about."

"Is that so?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He nips at your neck again, a little harder this time, sending a jolt of sensation straight down your spine.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But I must admit, it's...intriguing. Seeing this side of you, the side that wants to claw and scratch and mark what's hers."

Sylus spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. With a sharp tug, he yanks the towel down, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. Your nipples pebble instantly, peaks tightening under the sudden exposure and the intensity of Sylus' gaze. His hands slide up your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, teasing the sensitive skin. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the evidence of his power and strength, the way he could take you and claim you and make you his. His hands still on your breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath away. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, filled with raw emotion.

"What makes you think I could ever look at another woman the way I look at you?" Sylus asks "Do you have any idea what it's like, y/n, to be consumed by someone, to have them under your skin, in your blood, in every fucking beat of your heart?"

He leans in closer, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and the hunger that he keeps leashed, barely contained. Sylus' eyes flash with a mix of anger and pain, his grip on your breasts tightening almost uncomfortably. His voice drops to a low, fervent whisper "I've waited lifetimes for you, kitten, dreaming of the day I could hold you again, touch you again, make you mine again."

His thumb brushes over your nipple roughly, sending a jolt of sensation through you. "And this is what I get in return? You, running from me, doubting me?" Sylus' voice rises, the anger and the hurt bleeding through every word. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam, a smirk spreading across his face as he sees the fear and excitement in your eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Go ahead, kitten. Run. See how far you get before I catch you." Sylus' hand slides down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. "Run, If I catch you, I fuck you"

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill of fear and anticipation down your spine. Acting on instinct, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and turn to run, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you race up the stairs to your bedroom. You can hear Sylus' footsteps behind you, his long strides eating up the distance between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you reach the top of the stairs. You don't look back, you don't dare to see if he's close.

Just as you think you're about to reach the safety of your bedroom, you feel Sylus' Evol envelop you. An unseen force lifts you off your feet, strong and unyielding, pulling you back towards him. You let out a startled yelp, your hands grasping at the empty air as you're lifted higher, your bare breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

"Sylus!" you cry out, a mix of fear and excitement lacing your voice. You're suspended in mid-air, towel no longer wrapped over the lower half of your body, your legs kicking futilely as you try to find purchase on the carpeted stairs.

"Did I say you could run that far, kitten?" Sylus' voice comes from behind you, dark and amused. You feel his presence looming over you, the heat of his body, the power radiating off him in waves. "I told you, I'd catch you. And now, I'm going to claim my prize."

Sylus' hands grip your bare thighs, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he hoists you over his shoulder. He carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, his steps never faltering as he walks towards your bedroom. You find yourself staring at his back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches taut over the muscles beneath.

When he reaches your room, he kicks the door open, the wood slamming against the wall with a bang. He carries you inside and with a few more strides, he reaches the bed and tosses you onto it, your naked body bouncing on the mattress. You land on your back, your breasts heaving as you catch your breath. Sylus looms over you, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, a smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and bare before him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your heart pounding as you watch Sylus remove his clothing. He starts with his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly to the side. His fingers move to his shirt buttons next, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness, as if he's savoring the anticipation of revealing what lies beneath. As he shrugs off his shirt, your breath catches in your throat. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the defined muscles, the sculpted abs, the V that disappears into his pants. You remember how his skin feels beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and your core clenches with sudden, desperate need. His hands move to his belt next, undoing the buckle with a sharp tug. The leather slips from his pants, falling to the floor with a soft thud. He undoes his fly slowly, inch by inch, until finally, he's shoving his pants and boxers down his long legs. He kicks them off to the side.

Sylus stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You've seen me like this before," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "But I don't think you've ever really seen me. Not like I want you to see me." He crawls over you, his large frame covering your smaller one as he settles his hips between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your core. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"You should know very well that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, his voice low with emotion. "There is no love purer than mine" His crimson eyes search yours, the intensity of his feeling burning into your very soul. "But right now," he continues, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and dangerous. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His grip on your face tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

Before you can process it he's thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside your tight, wet heat. A scream tears from his throat as he hilts himself fully, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. "FUCK!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls of your bedroom. At the same time, a scream of pleasure and surprise rips from your own throat, your back arching off the bed, "SYLUS!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as he stretches you, fills you, completes you in a way that feels so right and so perfect.

For a moment, he stays still, buried deep inside you, his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Then he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust. "Oh god, Sylus!" you cry out, your voice hitching and breaking as he drives into you again and again. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

Sylus feels your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back. With an approving growl, he sits back on his knees, bringing you up with him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he changes the angle of his thrusts, now driving up into you from below. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his voice filled with lust. "Hold onto me, kitten. Wrap those pretty legs around me tighter." His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, meeting his upward thrusts with a force that steals your breath away

You can feel every thick, hard inch of him as he fills and stretches you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length. The new position allows him to go even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust. You throw your head back, a silent scream of ecstasy on your lips as the pleasure builds and builds inside you. Sylus knows your body intimately, understands what buttons to push, what touches will send you flying. And right now, he's determined to draw this out, to make this last as long as possible. He wants to feel you come undone around him again and again, wants to hear you scream his name until your voice is hoarse and raw. So he restrains himself, ignoring the desperate pleas of your body as your hips buck and writhe against his, seeking more friction, more stimulation.

He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hands avoid your throbbing clit, his lips and teeth avoid your aching nipples, even as they map your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin behind your ears.

"Please, Sylus," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. "Please, I need..." You can't even finish the sentence, too lost in sensation, too desperate for release.

"I know," Sylus murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly what you need, kitten. But I'm not going to give it to you. Not yet." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, a twist of his hips that has you seeing stars. "You're going to come on my cock when I say you can come on my cock," Sylus commands, his voice low and dangerous. "And not a moment before."

Sylus uses all his strength to drag your hips down his length with brutal force. Your body is no longer your own as he manhandles you, using you for his pleasure. Each powerful thrust drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, your tits bouncing wildly with every slam of his hips against yours.

"Fuck, your cunt feels incredible," Sylus growls, his eyes wild and fevered as he watches your body jolt and quake with his relentless pounding. "So fucking tight and wet and perfect. Made to take my cock". Your mind starts to go hazy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as he fucks you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your voice raw and broken as he rails into you. "Sylus, please, I can't...I can't..." But your protests only seem to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more demanding.

Sylus leans in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh at the top of your breast, marking you. He bites down hard enough to make you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure short circuiting your brain for a moment. As he releases your skin, he laves the reddened mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

"Do you want some help, kitten?" Sylus murmurs, his voice a low against your skin. He rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, giving you a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. He waits for your response, his eyes glinting with a dark, knowing amusement. "Yes? No? Maybe so?" His tone is playful, taunting, as if he knows exactly what your answer will be. He reaches in between your bodies, his fingers find and circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, pushing you to the very edge of ecstasy. Your hips buck wildly against his hand, seeking more, craving more.

"Yes, Sylus," you manage to gasp out, your voice ragged and breathless." Please..please..please.." Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin.

 "That's my good girl," he purrs, rewarding your submission with a hard thrust. "Now, come for me, kitten. Come all over my cock. Let go, y/n . Give yourself to me completely."

With that command, Sylus leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over your nipple, the wet heat sending a shock of pleasure through your body. At the same time, his fingers find your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between them, rolling it, tugging on it, giving you the direct stimulation you've been aching for. The dual sensation is too much for you to withstand. Your body seizes up, back arching in a semicircle, as a intense orgasm crashes over you. "SYLUS!" you scream, your voice echoing off the walls, as wave after wave of ecstasy radiates out from your core, consuming you entirely. Sylus buries himself deep inside you once again, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he also finds his release. "Fuck, y/n , fuuuuuck!" his hot seed erupting from his cock and painting your insides. You can feel every twitch, every spurt of his thick come as he fills you up. Sylus' hips jerk and stutter, grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, pushing his seed deeper with every movement.

He collapses on top of you, his muscular frame blanketing your smaller one, pinning you to the mattress. He's still buried deep inside your fluttering, over sensitive heat, his softening cock plugging you up, trapping his seed inside you. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he rests his forehead against yours, his crimson eyes glazed and unfocused as he comes down from his intense high. Sylus takes a moment to marvel at the utterly debauched picture you make, hair mussed, skin flushed and slick with sweat, your bodies still joined intimately.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as I'm willing" Sylus murmurs, his voice low and intimate "but now I have a condition" His eyes bore into yours, the crimson depths swirling with unreadable emotions. "If you are not there then I'm not interested. "This," he gestures vaguely at the bedroom, but you know he means more than just the physical space, "means nothing without you in it."

Sylus' hand slides down to rest over your racing heart, feeling it beat against his palm. "You are my home, kitten. My haven. The one constant I crave." His voice drops to a fervent whisper, heavy with unspoken emotion. "So that condition is you must be there. Always. Or I will not settle for anything less."

[yarnabee]

What kinks do you think the doctor would be into?

(I boldly ask as I sit in my bed kicking my feet like a schoolgirl whenever I see something about that guy)

OH ANON. i have a LOT to say about this. (me too anon i always twirl my hair and giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i think of him 😵‍💫) also: check end for a little note!

THE DOCTOR HEADCANNONS — THE THINGS THAT BRINGS HIM PLEASURE? (NSFW 18+)

tags/warnings; NSFW! MINORS DNI, gender neutral (pound town but with no mention of spesific genitalia! hell yeah!), dom! harley sawyer x sub! reader, impact play, degradation, predator/prey dynamics, dacryphilia, size difference (you know how tall his physical body is compared to the player? yeah.. 🙂‍↕️) rough and raw all day and all night long,

we all know how our dear doctor sees himself as some sort of god among men. he created something almost as perfect as life itself—someone with such intelligence and capabilities surely makes a difference than others of his own kind, no?

of course—such a narcissistic, apathetic, struck-up sociopath would need his ego to be constantly fed well. and sawyer has just the perfect prey to feed himself off.

what other source could he get it from if it weren't from you? you were his perfect little lab rat, his dearest prized trophy—someone he could easily break for his own satisfaction.

sawyer loves it when he gets to hunt for his prey. there's no victory sweeter than having you—a clueless, pathetic little rat—trapped in his so-called 'experiments', forcing you into oblivion as he watches your defenses slowly crumble before his eyes. oh, how he lives for the thrill of hunting—your figure cowering under his tall one, his grip on your neck tight enough to snap it in half. "shush now, little rat. you don't want to know what happens to noisy little rats, do you?"

it's also quite obvious how sawyer possesses some sort of sadistic trait: he finds it amusing to toy with those under his mercy. he loves hearing you plead, your cries growing desperate from his rough touches—hell, you don't even know what you were begging for in the first place. was it to make the pain stop? or is it because of the overwhelming pleasure? either way, sawyer feasts on the meek chants of his name as you beg him to be more gentle—your entire body twitching in bliss as he lends no mercy. he'd purposefully go faster, rougher than before—his hoarse chuckle echoing through the room with a following taunt, "lab rats don't get to decide what happens to them, do they? now keep me amused, little rat, i expect you to take it well."

his ego thrives the most when he finds you drooling over his mean, mocking words—oh, what a lovely sight it is to have your body tremble to such lowly words—he finds it amusing how you react so eagerly everytime he calls you worthless. the way his gentle voice coax his cruel words never fails to drive you insane, just enough to push you over to the edge. "look at you, pathetic little wretch. just a moment ago you were so confident, yet now.. nothing more than a worthless whore begging to repent, hm? " god, his voice will be the death of you.

sawyer loves pushing you to the brink of tears—there's something about seeing you in tears that.. satisfies him. he would purposefully rip his hand away from your aching core just as you were getting close to your high—earning him your needy gasp as your body trembles from the sudden loss of contact. oh, what a pretty sight it was to see you wail and sob underneath him, tears pooling on your lashline, soon making its way down to your cheeks. it almost had him.. pitying you. almost. sawyer would simply let out a chuckle, wrapping his fingers around your jaw tightly as he eyed the beautiful sight beneath him in awe. "now would you look at yourself, little rat.. you look like a pathetic, lost little puppy. it suits you very well."

oh, how your stomach dropped when you found out that your sobs and whimpers only pushes the doctor further to his edge—his actions completely unhinged as he uses you for his own pleasure. he'd slap your cheek across until it's burning red; leaving trail of bruises all over your body from his tight, clawing grasp; or gently grabbing a lock of your hair only to yank it roughly, holding your head in place as he carelessly uses you like a ragdoll. you'd scream, beg, wail, and sob—but those were the exact response he craves from you.

the size difference between you and sawyer pushes him further to the brink—realizing how he could easily snap you in half like a dried twig if he wanted to. i mean, his figure alone is almost as twice bigger than you are. god, how he loved seeing those delicate, trembling hands of yours reaching out to his arm for support as he presses your thighs against your chest into a mating press, pounding into you with no care as he constantly hits the deepest part of you, eyeing the bulge imprinted on your stomach—it makes you look like a little rat who dares to take more than what they can.

sawyer will make sure that everyone knows you belong to him. he wants everyone to see you as his little lab rat, his only to toy with and to use to his liking. he'll make it clear as daylight with the bruises all over your delicate skin, an impact from his rough claws—enough to even draw blood from it. he'll make sure to let everyone else know that it wouldn't end well if anything other than him dares to leave even the tiniest scratch on his dearest lab rat.

despite the roughness of his act, sawyer would never cross the line of breaking you apart. don't get him wrong though, the genuine act isn't simply out of the kindness of his heart—oh, that's even if he has any. he'll make sure to tend your wounds well, feed you with proper food, and make sure you get enough rest—all this just without the sympathy. all he knew is that broken toys are never fun to play with.

note; HEY GANG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN IT SHOULD !! honestly this isn't my proudest work, i feel like i can do better but dang the writer's block and uni assignments fucked me up real bad ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 so i wanna say sorry in advance for this work :( but i do hope this can still bring a lil treat to the table 🍴

[yujateaandpi]

So imagine that you’re on a beach hanging with your brother and saving the world like always then suddenly there’s another version of you— and he just came out of nowhere and you live in a world filled with dangerous magical creatures so of course this must be some kind of shapeshifter trying to get the better of you. Of course, you attack it and he attacks you and both of you keep claiming to be the real version of you. Classic.

So you laugh it off and you ask your brother for help except he keeps saying that the other you is the real one. And the two of them are ganging up and attacking you so you have no choice but to turn around and go back home until this blows over cause let’s face it, your brother isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and hasn’t always been the best judge of character on your adventures.

So you go home and everything’s just as you left it and it’s a bit of a relief honestly cause the incident on the beach freaked you out. Except your little sibling won’t stop screaming every time they see you. And you can’t taste your favorite foods. And your voice sounds different. And your sense of touch is off. Plus there was a period where you couldn’t hear or speak well on the beach, and all this is starting to accumulate and scare you. And you’re a kid.

So you freak out. You break furniture and you throw around your brother’s good breakfast syrup (cause you’re still angry about him turning against you) and when your brother comes home with the other version of you, still insisting that you’re the monster (which can’t possibly be true. It can’t.) you won’t look him in the eye no matter how angry he gets. But the other you is chill and wants to be your friend or something, which is fine but would be better if he would just give you your bed and your pajamas and your brother back.

So time passes and you begin to accept that you really are the monster after all, because you can’t really deny the fact that you don’t look quite the same. And that you don’t have a digestive tract. And that murder just seems a little more okay than it used to.

So you call yourself by a different name. But it’s still not fair, because before the beach you had a brother and a home and favorite foods and now you don’t have anything. Your brother is more chill now but he’s clearly uncomfortable with you and your little sibling is still scared of you and everybody you’re ever known thinks you’re a stranger. Meanwhile the other you is celebrated as a hero. He’s receiving the love you used to receive and on top of that he’s just better than you at everything. Which is unfair because he is you! And a part of you can’t really let go of the doubt— that maybe you’re the hero and he’s the monster. That maybe he doesn’t deserve all the things he’s taken from you.

So when he lovingly calls you his twin brother, you don’t know how to respond because he’s really a good guy (because YOU’RE a good guy!), and he has your face but you can’t help but hate him deeply, down to the dark depths within you. Those depths tell you to do many many things you would never have done before.

So you trick your other self and seal him in a tomb which feels so so good because you’ve finally gotten the better of him. And you tell him you’ll be back (but you won’t) and you change your voice and your skin so you look even more like him (more like you, this is you) and you start going back home so your brother will FINALLY give you a hug. But he escapes (and isn’t that infuriating cause he really did get the best of you after all) and, worst of all, he kills you. It doesn’t matter that it was an accident. It doesn’t matter that you were going to put your hands around his throat and squeeze and squeeze until he gave everything back. He grinds you to shreds like you were nothing.

So when you’re given a second chance— when a madman revives you and makes you a living weapon, you decide to let the world go to shit. So long as you’re better than your other self, so long as you’re strong enough to make him hurt, really hurt, nothing else matters. You look at him trying to save the world over and over (his voice has changed, he’s grown taller) and you ignore the pain of watching this better version of you who still believes all the things you used to believe before the stupid beach. Your other self tells you he shares the same torment, that you’re two sides of the same coin, but that’s not right because then why does he have everything you want? Why are you the only one who’s so achingly lonely?

And then. He gently walks with you down to your dark depths. And he helps you kill your demon. And you’re you again, finally, all that rage and desire stripped away, and you see that ah, you two really are the same after all. That there never was any monster (except for the demon) and there never was a hero either, you’re both only human. Then you die again. And when your other self cries over you, as you disappear for good, the only thing you ask him is to take you home. You haven’t been back in such a long time.

Anyways if you can imagine all that, then congrats, you know how it feels like to be Fern Adventuretime.

[eepy-cookies]

Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N! Reader Content Warning: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Spoilers for Beast-Yeast episode 8 of the finale Disclaimer: If the characters are ooc, remember that this is made for fun. (ngl its been a while since I type a fanfic, but I am still rusty on that so bear with me, plus I found a post on twitter that SMC could also be Blue Moon Cookie but its just a guess.)

After the defeat of the jester that got away...

There was a memory in the distant past, WAY before he himself was created. Surely you have heard the tale of the first five cookies that were made before they become the beast cookies, a cookie one of the beast fell in love but...

The witches had to hide a terrible secret that if a cookie has the most missing incomplete ingredients, that said cookie is sick and cannot live until old age.

??? Cookie: "Um... Are you sure that there is a way to create a cure?"

??? Cookie: "There is a possibility I believe, as a fount of knowledge I will find the cure. But if I kindly ask"

(I remember the first meeting we have (Y/N) Cookie, it pains me to know this...)

That unfortunate cookie named (Y/N) Cookie has an incurable illness, due to the Witch's mistake, The Fount of Knowledge was desperate to find the cure for (Y/N) Cookie, the very first friend who greeted the pre-corrupted beast in a kingdom that was now long gone. One of them falls for that unfortunate cookie, their kindness, patience, and confidence they had charmed him even if he was at his lowest. He knew the pain in the future and yet, he yearned for more.

They both get along well, it was peaceful for them. He never felt any happier just being by their side, but not all happiness last much longer.

One day he was about to give (Y/N) Cookie a gift, a love letter that will never be opened and read.

???: "(Y/N) COOKIE?!" ???: "PLEASE WAKE UP!"

He stood there shocked, (Y/N) Cookie was on the floor struggling to get up. He knew (Y/N) Cookie was sick and yet their own health is getting worse by the minute, in a act of desperation he decided to look further into knowledge casting a spell on (Y/N) Cookie to keep their health in check, but as the years go by madness took hold of him and decided to cast a spell on them.

???: "My love...I am sorry...."

Madness CLEARLY took a hold of him.

Shadow Milk Cookie: "I can't afford to lose you! So I will make you as one of my puppets! Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"

And yet...

Tears fell from his face, he drops down to his knees leaning closer to them.

He can't do it.

He can't harm the one he love dearly.

Leaving only behind a kiss on the forehead, and the unread love letter in their hands. He casted the spell that would last much longer in hopes to find a cure while he is away. After all he will just lie to himself that he killed them, it's no big deal.

----

Pure Vanilla Cookie: This must be the place.

Wizard Cookie: A coffin? Why this place?

Gingerbrave Cookie: !!! Look a cookie is inside!

Strawberry Cookie: Are they...still breathing?!

Pure Vanilla Cookie watch as the sleeping (Y/N) remained in the coffin, sleeping peacefully. To which he now understands why Shadow Milk Cookie was trying to preserve some of his energy, casting a life lasting spell was taking a toll on him even if he was sealed.

Pure Vanilla Cookie: I hope this spell allowed you to wake up...

With no other explanation another spell was casted, pure healing magic was casting on (Y/N) Cookie. Pure Vanilla Cookie witnessed this tragic memory, and yet he had to secretly admit, he is evil but his capability of magic was greater far from what he had imagined.

But all that's left was silence, and yet...

Everyone: !!!

??? Cookie: ...W....Wh....

Gingerbrave Cookie: Look their awake!

Pure Vanilla Cookie: (Y/N) Cookie..... are you awake?

(Y/N) Cookie: ...H...hung.....r..y...

Strawberry Cookie quickly pull out an extra supply of royal bear jellies and gently feed (Y/N) Cookie as the others watch in concern. In the corner of Pure Vanilla Cookie's soul jam they aren't the only ones who witness a miracle that was tragic yet so real.

---

Arriving at a safe in (Y/N) Cookie was put on a wheel chair carefully eating the jelly soup one of the cookies made, they themselves were confused knowing that they would pass on and yet here they are somehow alive, still sick but still living, as if someone was carrying the burden off from their shoulders.

(Y/N) Cookie looked at the letter that they kept and had not opened and kept it close to them at all times. They need to know what happen, what year is it, and most importantly...where are their only friends?

...

..

.

That night when everyone is asleep, (Y/N) Cookie wheeled their way to the balcony watching the stars holding the letter close to their chest. Wondering where did their friend go, glancing at the letter that was remained fresh despite how many years has passed. They opened the letter carefully just to give it a read.

But before they can actually read it...

??? Cookie: ...(Y../N) Cookie?"

That recognizable voice from behind, (Y/N) Cookie looked to see that what was once the one they knew was in a different appearance of a jester. They were supposed to feel fear and yet...

(Y/N) Cookie: ...Are...you.... Blue Moon / Blueberry Milk Cookie?

He walked closer to see if they are actually alive, (Y/N) is still sick but cannot walk properly. Their hands reached out to him, gently touching his cheek. His face was unreadable and yet...

Shadow Milk Cookie: Are you....awake? (Y/N) Cookie?

There was no voice is mischief or anything, just pure vulnerable voice he has left of them. (Y/N) Cookie nodded as he kneel on the ground gently yet carefully hugging (Y/N) Cookie hiding his face to their chest. (Y/N) Cookie gently hugged him back remembering the usual scent that they personally love.

His own body shaking which (Y/N) was crying in turn, wondering to themselves what happened to him when they are asleep for SO very long?

[hivemuthur]

could we get some pervert!Viktor who stays up late at night touching himself to the thought of you? 🙏🙏🙏

YES, because this kept me up until now! The concept is there, changed a bit :') Never wrote something so fast, I swear to the old gods and new :v

What Brings You In?

solo viktor (gn!reader mentioned) explicit! I don't know what to say, it's just smut :v

word count: 1,6K

@rennethen beta read 🖤

—

Simple images come first. You, your dishevelled self as you let him in, unannounced, and offer him a little kindness in sharing your food you were just making, unbothered, as you seat him at the table in your kitchen with a gentle press on his shoulders and go back to your dismembering of mushrooms that you haven’t thought to wash before he came in, because you were about to eat alone, but he of course, doesn’t know that. And you don’t tell him, deciding it won’t kill him, most likely, or at least you hope so. With the corner of his eye, he watches you sink your thumbs in the legs, sliding in with your fingernails to split the umbrellas in half and toss them onto the hot sprinkling oil. Pouring more on top, adding three pinches of salt uncaringly, some grains falling on the table as he watches them bounce off.

Then, he watches you, as he tries to squeeze any of the words he’s prepared to come out and you show him another kindness by not pressing, just humming and stomping around quietly on your naked feet. And he has nothing for or against feet but were your feet about to stomp his face flat into the floor, or, in a better life, into the soft foam of the mattress, he would let you and he would lick your soles with gratitude while pulling his needy hands to feel the shape of your ankles.

When suddenly a clattering sound startles his poor soul as you drop your spoon, it falls between the table legs, and you mutter a soft curse. And then, without warning, you drop on your all fours, so he can see the soles of your feet that he thinks nothing of, and your curling toes and he dares not to look further, it’s only his eyes that betray him.

They wander up in a quick glance as his putrid brain has to decide fast whether to have the most likely shape of your ass or the crease of your calves etched into it, when he’s betrayed again and what his mind chooses is the arch of your back as you reach between the legs. And now the vision of you spread on all fours entered from behind is all that fits in his head the same way he hopes that he would fit inside you—hardly.

In this feverish dream, Viktor whines loudly enough to be heard—had anyone been in the vicinity of his bedroom—yet not loudly enough to wake himself. His hand travels palm flat, as the fantasy version of you kneels with your ass up and your chest down and the fantasy version of him has two healthy legs that allow him to kneel as well, right behind you so his cock can slide between your thighs until skin touches skin. The fantasy version of his hand pushes on the small of your back to deepen the arch, pressing your torso further down until you mutter a soft curse at the sole shape he bends you into, the same soft curse you’ve muttered in your kitchen above the sprinkling oil. Ideally his name follows.

His hips jut into the foam and cock rubs against his stomach and the cloth of his pants and he moans again, for you, but no one can hear it. Again, he is in your kitchen, when you set the simple meal before him and pass him the fork, and he does his worst not to touch your fingers as he accepts it. Fingertips linger and you smile softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and tell him to eat first, with something that sounds dangerously close to care. As your lips move, he memorizes their shape and wonders if the shape of his lips would fit between them, if the shape of his cock could be pressed there and would you drool has he given it to you.

It's your lips now that plague him, with you back on your knees, your tongue stuck out and it’s so very red and pretty Viktor can’t make himself decide whether he is the one that wants to suck on it, or he wants it to partake in sucking him. Nothing that is happening between his legs at the moment is close to what he imagines your mouth would feel like, the dull press of dry skin of his belly pulling his foreskin down and the faint weep of precum at his slit incomparable to what softness you have to offer.

His unconscious mind conducts his hips to snap, making him believe that it’s your lips that he is fucking into, while it’s just the press of the mattress and the waistband of his pants teasing the sweet spot right below where his length ends. His hands fist the bedsheet which in the dream version of this encounter becomes your hair that he tugs on to make your jaw open wider and release gush of wet drool to well onto the ridges of his cock.

With his face pressed against the pillow and hips rutting forth, Viktor dreams of pushing himself past your throat making you release a sweet sound of gagging. He even dares to go thus far to pinch your nose and stare into your teary doe eyes when he leans in to whisper so good, holding your jaw open wide for him. Had you any more space left to move your lips you would curve them into a grateful smile and your eyes would squint with bliss.

Sweat pearls his forehead, it gets wiped on the pillowcase when he writhes in his bedsheets, the images of you filling his sleeping mind, unbidden. Next thing that presents itself to him are your thighs that shake as you scrape the frying pan with your back to him and he can shamelessly watch the jiggle of your ass and the muscles flexing in your legs. And he doesn’t really care if your thighs quiver as you move around or if they quiver as you sink onto him, his hips pressing sharp dents into the tender flesh. He’s granted the vision of his cock disappearing within you, the imaginary sound of skin slapping against skin as your rise and fall and your lips part to gasp for air that he pounds out of you.

As you lift your hips the strings of gooey slick cling to your legs, and slap into a puddle on his navel once you fall with a sharp snap. The tightness of his clothes is nothing compared to what he imagines the inside of you would be, but his body follows the false thread and finally his throat gives in, betrays his restless slumber, when the sound of his whimper strangled against the pillow makes his eyes fall open.

He gasps, unaware of his surroundings, embarrassed of himself and for himself as he lifts his chest to gape between his hips and the bed, where a wet stain blooms and mocks him. He rolls onto his back, cock poking out of his pants and this time it’s Viktor who mutters a curse, though it lands far from your soft ones. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, wipes the halo of sweat from his forehead with a sleeve and sighs, long and heavy.

The unbearable tightness of his own skin clinging to him drives him nearly mad, so he sheds the damp clothing and throws himself back onto his soaked sheet with a resigned exhale. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you, smiling, gentle, kind and oblivious to the words that never came to him. So to end this painful torment, ease the need that invaded him uninvited, his hand travels down below his navel to stroke his aching cock absently.

Once you are back behind his eyelids, this time it’s his conscious mind that shows him what his heart fears, and you are back there, bent over, your hands fisting the very same sheet he just drenched and he is right behind you, fucking into you with his knuckles whitening around your hips and his other hand reaching between your thighs. The better version of himself bends over your back to lick the sweat from between your shoulder blades and the better version of his hand tugs at the hair on the base of your skull drawing out hopeless moans from your pretty throat.

And even though his real, calloused hand is nowhere near as soft and wet as you would be, he strokes himself hard and dry, free palm caressing his chest, imagining it’s your fingers that trace loving circles on his skin. He whispers your name over and over again and in the moment when his balls pull up and his stomach coils unbearably, he imagines kissing your sweet lips and saying all the words he can’t bring himself to say around you. And he imagines you kissing him back and accepting the words.

He cums all over his belly and around his fingers clasped on his cock with a hot groan and a tension in his neck in a few scorching spurts. His hips jolt up, tensing up his spine, toes curl and legs stretch far beyond the mattress. Laying there spent and bathed in his seed, he spreads it on his chest, imagining it’s you’re your tongue licking him clean and brings it up to his mouth, imagining it’s your mouth that carries it into his in a loving, debauched kiss. Dirty and tired, Viktor blinks and thinks, time after time and once he’s empty it’s only the image of you in your kitchen, laughing warmly at his jokes, and pressing your hand to his in silence, when you finally ask, “So what brings you in?”

[rising-starrr]

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐲ō𝐦𝐞𝐧 - 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é !

warnings : Sukuna has never celebrated Valentine’s Day at all, he spoils you, you two end off the night with sex, jealousy - a servant tries giving you chocolate, killing, true-form! Sukuna, he has two cocks, and can spawn tongues anywhere, he overstimulates you, pet names - princess, ‘pet’, he calls you wife even though y’all aren’t even married yet. Mating press, breeding, DP, P in V, public sex, and more that will come up. afab!reader implied, female pronouns, poc!reader.

(a’s note ! - there’s porn links hidden in here, hope you find them ! y’all gonna be reading books at night so ima say this now, y’all got light, idk how but yall got light.)

𐙚 It was February 14th. Which meant it was Valentine's Day, so you decided to decorate one of the many rooms throughout the household that Sukuna said you could use whenever you were mad at him.

you knew he wouldn't really care for this type of stuff since he always said it was ‘foolish mortal stuff’ but then again he did celebrate everything with you if you asked nicely, or threatened him. Only he knows when he wants to be nice to you.

“wife. what are you doing?” you hear sukuna say from behind you, you don’t jump or anything you’ve gotten used to him appearing out of nowhere. “I’m decorating Ryõmen, what does it look like?” You question.

Ryōmen remembers when you two were being so affectionate, he love when you two are getting it on and that’s always what causes him to zone out when he’s looking at your sweet ass. “What? Don’t get smart with me brat.”

He simply rolls his eyes and walks over towards you. “we’re going out tonight. Be ready in an hour.” He says, not allowing you to respond before he leaves back out.

𐙚 You got ready in that hour he gave you, wearing a dress he had recently brought you. “Ryōmen. What do you think?” You question, spinning in a circle as you approach him. He just gave you a small nod, before fixing his tie and turning to you, he thought you looked beautiful.

He planned to take you to a restaurant, and afterwards he was going to take you to the beach, of course at a time when no one else was there that way he can be alone with you, though of course he would never act on it without you consenting.

He would hope you wouldn’t be a brat tonight, that way he doesn’t have to gag you like usual during your little acts. “Ryōmen! I’ve been calling your damn name for ten minutes, are we leaving or not?” You question, finally seeing him snap out of whatever daze he was in. He just nods, and grabs your hand, taking you outside to the car.

One of the driver’s opens the door for you and him, and allows you two to get in the car, before going back to the driver’s side and driving off to the restaurant. Once the car stops, Sukuna puts a blindfold over your eyes and leads you inside the restaurant. He sits you down before taking off the blindfold.

It was a neatly decorated Valentine’s Day themed booth, that he personally decorated just for you, he wanted everything to be perfect just for you. “Do you like it wife?” He questioned, sitting down as he puts the present he brought you on the table and pushed it towards you.

You nod and begin to open the present, pausing before you continue to ask for confirmation to open. He gives you a small nod, gesturing you to open it for him. you listen and begin to open the present. It was a camera, a promise ring, a new bathing suit, an anklet with his initials and yours, a necklace with his initials, and earrings.

“Oh! This is quite a lot, but thank you Ryōmen, I love you so much.” You murmured, storing it in the bag he brought with the two of you. He just grunts and orders the two of you food, allowing you to get whatever you want.

𐙚 After you two ate, he took you to a nearby beach. Now you see what he brought you a new bathing suit for. you take the bathing suit and go change, it wasn't as windy as it normally was tonight.

When you finally came out the bathroom, he had set up multiple towels so you two would be comfortable. He was currently sitting down on the towels, his head resting on his arm as he read the book he brought along.

He looks up, seeing you finally came out the bathroom, he moves the book, and pats the spot next to him, signaling for you to sit down. you sit down next to him and hum.

“took you long enough brat, now you wanna go get in the water with me or you wanna stay here?” he questioned, waiting for your answer before getting up, all you did was stay seated as a single you wanted to stay at the towels. “Let’s stay here.” You say, laying on your stomach as you began to read a book.

He felt horny just looking at your backside. He hums and grabs you and forces you onto your hands and needs. “Can I?” He questions, waiting for your nod of approval. And you give him the nod of approval.

He grins and pulls down your underwear, and pushes down his boxers and swim shorts. He does a few lazy strokes before positioning himself at your entrance.

You let out a moan, allowing him to push himself inside of you as you two fucked in a public space. Luckily no one was around. His hands gripped your hips, trying to angle himself deeper inside of you as just you just hoped your arms wouldn’t give out or your legs in this moment.

“Feeling good?” He questioned, as he bent down and covering your neck in kisses. You just let out a moan mixed with a shudder. Of course you felt good, he was fucking you so nicely on the beach, you didn’t have a care in the world if you two got caught.

He just kept thrusting until you came on his cocks, eventually cumming right after you did. He picks you up, wraps a towel around you and puts you in the car as he grabs the rest of you guys' stuff and goes to the car.

He mumbles an I love you to you, and allows you to fall asleep on his lap until you get home. Once you two get home, he washes you up and lays you in bed. “Happy Valentine's Day, my wife.”

He lovesssss when your small body is taking his big cock.

Sukuna might have to put a baby in you after all.

You were needy while in the car so he fucked you while you two were being driven back to the mansion.

EDIT: pretend this was posted on Valentine’s Day at 12am !!

[esote-rika]

on the stroke of midnight | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: angst Summary: A pregnancy scare with your boyfriend leads to a serious conversation about the future Content: one mention of a foot fetish, pregnancy scare, talk of pregnancy and kids, established relationship, mentions of schizophrenia and mental illness, Cinderella and time as an extended metaphor and motif??? (Idk I was writing this while simultaneously writing my thesis on fairy tales oops), open ended ending  Word count: 2.2k A/N: I don't want kids and this fictional man does, so I'm making it everyone's problem. This is my first time writing pure angst, so uh, please let me know if I should continue with this genre or just go back to smut and fluff lol. Also shoutout to @notlongtolove and @darkmatilda who let me yap abt this ily girlies.

Ever since you started dating, Spencer Reid has been trying to figure out why you love Cinderella so much. He’s read through different academic papers, come up with his own silly interpretations that either make you gasp, or cry from laughing, and often leaves you marveling at his wonderful brain and all the ways it twists and turns. He likes games, you’d established that from the beginning when he ended your first date with a friendly game of chess. He had let you win twice before you’d caught on, and called him out on it.

It was on the second date when you brought up your love for fairytales, expecting an amused laugh at best, and an oh so you're one of those Disney adults at worst. However, you got neither. Instead, Spencer Reid had launched into an explanation of the cultural significance of these stories, asked you about your favorite, and then proceeded to tell you about the different versions of it across history and continents. Somewhere between the Americas, he'd cut himself off, blushing furiously, before asking you why you loved Cinderella so much. 

By then you had already decided he's perfect.

You didn’t tell him the reason that night; you thought it was too pathetic to share on a second date.

“I’ll tell you if you stick around.” you had said cheekily, hoping that maybe the temptation of a secret will allow you to keep him longer. 

He had laughed, “So you’re baiting me into another date?”

“Is it working?”

“I would’ve asked you out again regardless.”

That had been the night you got your first taste of his lips, and you’ve found yourself hoping time would stretch on forever. If moments could be bottled up, you would have done so at that moment, kept it in your pocket for the rest of eternity.  

Five months of bliss have passed since. Your theory of his perfection just kept being proven correct throughout the entire time, the way he’s trying so hard to communicate with you and make up for plans that get shelved due to the demanding nature of his job. He’d come up with different explanations for why you love Cinderella, until it became a game of its own; him searching through the contours of the fairy tale and you denying everything he comes up with. 

At one point, he’d asked if it was simply because you had a feet fetish and you had to start wearing socks everywhere because the sight of your own feet would make you giggle.

You don’t mind it, the games, the way he insists on learning this about you. Spencer Reid's mind desires to understand how everything works, to turn over and mull and analyze, and the first step to that is by keeping track of the variables. You have always found this endearing. He knows how fast you can read — it depends on the genre according to him, but it’s somewhere around 350-400 words per minute. He knows your favorite stories and music, has found connecting themes between them, and now he’s trying to see where your love for Cinderella fits in all of it. Hell, he even keeps track of your cycle for you, resulting in perfectly timed moments shared in bed where you’re ravished, and he’s chanting your name, and the two of you are gasping for a god that neither of you really believe in.

When you miss your period, he notices before you even do, quietly offering two boxes of pregnancy tests. He kept track of how long it took before the results finally appeared — one test took three minutes and eight seconds, the other one three minutes and twenty one seconds. It had felt simultaneously like three seconds and three decades. 

That was nearly six days ago. Nearly a whole week has passed, and what you had assumed to be an insignificant fissure seems to have widened into a crack. It’s a rare night off for him, a moment of domesticity that should be relished, but instead, you wonder if the cracks have somehow turned into something else. A fracture. You move around the kitchen together like magnets with similar poles, close but never quite touching. It feels like a chasm between you. 

Dinner in the oven. Only the slow tick of the oven timer disrupts the silence, though it doesn’t really disrupt as much as it joins. Background noise, a lull that seems to melt with the silence to highlight the stifling atmosphere. He’s tossing a salad, facing away from you. You both know it is ready to be served.

His name is whispered into the tense air, your voice croaking at the last syllable, “We need to talk about this.” You watch as he tenses, back uncharacteristically straight, and your heart sinks to your stomach. 

“I guess we do.” He never guesses. Spencer Reid uses words that are accurate, god knows he has the vocabulary for it. So this, to guess, the hint of skepticism makes your skin crawl. “What is this, again?” 

You scoff. He can be so deliberately obtuse sometimes, “I don’t know, Spence, you tell me. You’ve been acting weird since I took that pregnancy test.”

He doesn’t look at you, but he does answer, “I just— I don’t understand why you were so relieved about the results.”

You’ve had an inkling this whole issue is about that moment. Both of you hunched on his couch while you waited with bated breath. He’d timed it, one stick taking three minutes and eight seconds, the other three minutes and twenty one; both had contained negative results. 

You still remember it, the utter relief that washed over your body, the way you threw yourself into his arms at the confirmation that he hadn’t accidentally gotten you pregnant. You’d said thank god so quickly, face buried at the crook of his shoulder, so relieved that you hadn’t really noticed his reaction.

“Spencer,” it comes out a sigh, patient and quiet, “We’ve been dating for five months. Of course I was relieved. Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but it’s a little too soon to add a baby to the mix.” Love. That abstract concept you’ve almost given up on, before he’d come into your life. You love him, you’re sure of it. It’s burrowed deep into your bones now, which is why you’re trying to get past this. Communication is the key to making a relationship work. You remind yourself you don’t need a fairy godmother to keep this going. You have agency of your own.

His head shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly, and those beautiful amber eyes meet your own. “Is that all?”

It feels like an accusation, even though you know he’s just trying to understand. You gulp, trying not to get defensive, “I suppose not. If I’m being honest, I was relieved because I don’t really want children.” 

There it is. A cardinal sin, a sickness of modern women. You wait for his words to turn bitter, the familiar accusations of selfishness, the condescension. 

Instead, he looks at you with wounded eyes, “You don’t want children with me?”

“What? That’s not what I said.”

He pauses, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. The oven continues to hum softly in the background, its built-in timer clicking at equal intervals. In a different context, it might have given you a sense of peace, but right now it feels mocking. Your time is almost up.

“Spencer, that’s not what I said, honey.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” he turns back to the salad.

You watch him helplessly, searching for any way to bring him back to you.

“You kept asking about my mom,” he murmurs, “It’s not that I didn’t want you to meet her, it’s that, it’s—well, she’s in a home. A– a mental facility. She’s schizophrenic.”

This is not how you expected this conversation to go. “Spencer.”

“I guess, you know, that’s genetically passed down, and it’s no secret that my teammates suspect I’m on the spectrum, so my genetic makeup isn’t exactly the most desirable in terms of a partner with whom you would want to—to procreate.”

God, you wish he had been like most people and accused you of being a selfish bitch instead. 

“No,” you gasp, crossing the space between you. His hand is cold when you wrap your fingers around it. Unfortunately, you don’t think you have any warmth to give. Your own hands are clammy, but you try anyway, tugging it away from the tongs he’s using to mindlessly swirl at the contents of the salad. “It’s not like that at all.”

“It’s not?”

“No. And I’m sorry about your mom, I–I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to tell me about her.” the words feel futile, worthless. You’re entirely unprepared for something like this. He hasn’t told you much about Diana Reid, and you’d given him space, and now… now you understand why.

A beat as he considers. His body angles towards you now, his stance hunching forward into that familiar slouch you’ve come to love. You can’t tell if he’s relaxed or defeated, and that uncertainty burns in the back of your throat. “So you just don’t—”

“I don’t want kids, plain and simple. It’s got nothing to do with your genes, or your suspected autism, I just…” You falter, hands tightening over his own. You wish you could be more eloquent, but there’s so much uncertainty, so many truths being dropped in the span of minutes. You wait for more questions, for the inevitable but aren’t you worried about your legacy? Wouldn’t you get lonely? Motherhood is fulfilling for women. Sentiments you always get when you share this particular choice. 

You prepare your arsenal of responses, defenses you’ve practiced and perfected throughout the years, ready for any attempts to make you change your mind.

Somehow, he manages to choose the most devastating response instead. Muttering so quietly you almost don’t catch it, Spencer says, “But I do.”

You wonder how you got this long without ever talking about this? How had you gone five months with him, allowed yourself to let your walls down and fall in love, memorized the scars and calluses all over his body without ever discussing the topic of children? It seems silly, most people talk about that stuff from the get go, don’t they? To see if they would be compatible in the long run? 

But you’ve never had that before, the luxury of future plans. You’ve come to accept that the floor will inevitably collapse beneath your feet, that your time with someone will run out. When you’re used to having an expiry date, you don’t bother to make plans. The only way to survive is to live in the moment. Cinderella and her midnight curfew. 

“Oh.” It’s a filler word, but the silence is beginning to get to you. You stare at your entwined hands. His thumb is running back and forth across your knuckles, the action familiar and soothing, and allow yourself a moment to believe, to hope, that there’s time left for this. That time would never run out.

His next words break your heart even more, “I know it’s silly, especially with how much risk is involved. With my job, my—”

“It’s not silly at all, Spence.” you gulp, trying to push past the lump in your throat as you remember how he acts around his godson Henry in those rare times he’s had to babysit, “You’d make a great dad.”

“You’d make a great mom too.”

“Spencer.”

“I’ve seen you with your own nephews. You’re great with kids.”

“Don’t—”

“I’m not trying to change your mind,” he finally pulls you in, lips finding the top of your head, “I respect your choice, I do. I’m sorry that I seem like I’m pressuring you.”

“You’re not,” it’s even harder to catch your breath when your face is pressed against him, but you don’t make a move. Losing air seems like a fair compromise if it means you get to feel his touch. The way this conversation went has you reeling, confused. You’d been prepared to defend yourself, to explain your choices and make him understand, potentially to argue. His respect and acceptance is an entirely different battlefield, but no less vicious. 

With all the courage you can muster, you speak the words into existence even though you dread the answer. “Is this a deal breaker? Having children?”

He’s quiet. You wonder if this is even still a battlefield. You wonder if this is surrender, quiet and unassuming, a white flag raised before the fighting even began. If it is, then it stings, his soft acceptance. You almost find yourself wishing he’d try to convince you instead if it means he’ll fight for you more.

Your mind wanders back to Cinderella, the little game you’ve been playing, the way you’ve been holding out on the answer because it amuses you to hear the variety of interpretations and musings he’ll come up with. You promised yourself you’d tell him when the time is right, but now you’re afraid he’ll never get the answer. It feels useless, the cat and mouse you’ve developed, not when you’re faced with a real, human issue. A difference in life goals. Something communication potentially couldn’t fix.

His heart is drumming relentlessly against your cheek. It brings you some sick sense of comfort, knowing that he’s just as terrified as you are. 

“Spencer?” Is this the end? Please don’t let this be the end, please don’t be another good thing I lose.

The timer on the oven dings, piercing in the tense silence. Your midnight curfew has come. Dinner is ready.

Happy Valentines <3 thank you for reading, here's the rest of my masterlist

Also tagging @olderwomenenthusiast ty for the interest it is here

[babybearnation]

Kimi Oscar and Lando (separately) with soulmate!reader?

i picked different soulmate AUs for each driver since you didn't pick a specific trope - i hope thats okay! also you didn't specify which kimi so i'm doing both :D

gn!reader (soulmate aus)

kimi antonelli - your soulmate can't hear your voice:

ollie had been hyping you up to kimi for months, showing him pictures of you and telling him about all your wonderful traits and habits

its safe to say, kimi was in love with you and he was totally ready to meet you - and soon enough, he would! ollie was bringing you to the first grand prix of the 2025 formula 1 season!

you two meet up via ollie and kimi opens his mouth and greets you and... your eyebrows furrow. you can't hear him and when you talk to ollie, he realises he can't hear you

ollie soon realises what is going on and he laughs, before jokingly offering himself as messenger for you two - you and kimi agree but both of you are eagerly awaiting the time when you can finally hear each other

it takes a couple of weeks of back and forth texting & calling, and many plane journeys, for you both but eventually kimi works up the courage to ask ollie to ask you if kimi can kiss you

you say yes, he kisses you really sweetly on the plane to japan, and finally, finally, he can hear your sweet, sweet voice that he has oft dreamed about

kimi raikkonen - time freezes when you're in the same place as your soulmate and resumes when you make eye contact:

kimi was too focused on his racing to particularly care all too much about his soulmate - he'd meet em when he meets them

you're a relatively new formula 1 fan and you'd been given not just race tickets but also a paddock pass, allowing you to get up close and personal with the cars

you excitedly enter the paddock, ready to have your fun... and every single thing freezes around you - you panic and start running through the paddock, yelling the word help over and over, trying to find someone who wasn't frozen

kimi, on the other hand, was chilling in his garage when everything went still and he wasn't sure what to do until he heard your yelling and realised someone else was unfrozen

he rushes out to meet you and the second you make eye contact, everything unfreezes and the two of you quickly connect the dots - you're soulmates

kimi crosses over and smiles shyly at you, and the pair of you introduce yourselves to each other, setting up the beginning of a beautiful relationship

oscar piastri - you have a watch with your soulmate's time on it that beeps when you meet them:

oscar couldn't help but feel bad every time he looked down at his soulmate watch and saw that your timezone never changed - after all, his changed all the time and surely that must've been annoying

seeing your soulmate's timezone change all the time left you quite confused but you figured he was either very wealthy, travelled for his job, or both - plus you loved to figure out where he was each time it changed

its when you both notice that you're in the same timezone for the first time that you feel excited but you're not sure what to do now that you've noticed this - you have no other clues

you both decide to go out one night for a walk, not even thinking you'd meet the other but knowing that if you did, the watches would beep

so when you bump into someone and turn to apologise, the rapid and loud beeping that comes from both of your watches startle you until you, in sync, click the buttons to silence them

you look up and meet his warm brown eyes and smile, sticking your hand out to shake his, promptly making both of you the happiest you've ever been

lando norris - you have your soulmate's name on your wrist:

lando wasn't ashamed of his soulmate mark, not at all, but he did keep it covered up during the f1 season to avoid any potential weird fans using it against him

you, however, were perpetually shocked and awed by the name on your arm turning out to be your favourite formula 1 driver but you were also afraid because... how would you ever tell him that in a way that wouldn't paint you as an obsessive, stalkerish fan?

and then you get a paddock pass and are free to roam about wherever you please - you don't even think about covering your arm until a member of mclaren staff asks to see your id because he saw the name on your wrist

you show him it and, before long, you are being taken by the staff member to go and meet lando, your favourite formula 1 driver, your soulmate

lando wasn't sure what to do when a member of mclaren staff told him that his soulmate had been found, innocently wandering in the paddock with his name on their arm, completely uncovered

but when the two of you meet, lando can tell it's serious - the damn near instant connection to and draw towards each other tells you as much

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

summary: harry sings your praises in a recent interview, and you’re back with new music; leading to a surprising dm.

pairing: harry styles x reader

vicious speaks: happy valentine’s day!! 💞 mr. styles has officially entered the story!! i hope you enjoy chapter 2 <3 i took creative liberty with one of the lyrics, just so they fit the plot!!

series masterlist

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux and others

hsupdates harry gushed about yourusername in an interview today!

“i just think she’s great. she’s an incredible songwriter and seems like a really down to earth person. she’s dealt with a lot recently and handled it with such grace. i can’t wait to see what she does next.” he said. when asked his favorite song by the singer, he said “hope ur okay. it’s so beautiful!” he also got really bashful when the interviewer asked if she’s his celebrity crush and he giggled and said “yeah…yeah, i’d say she is.” what do you think, harries? is a collab in the future?

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fan1 omgggg i know yn’s off social media but i hope she’s seen this!!

fan2 i hope it’s killing that man knowing one of his favorite artists took yns side in the break up

fan3 omg alexandra in the likes!!

⤷ fan4 alexandrasaintmleux please show our girl this interview!!

fan5 fuck a collab, is a RELATIONSHIP in the future???

fan6 he needs to stay far away from yn before she tries to ruin his reputation too

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux you sound ridiculous

⤷ fan7 alex said keep her wife’s name out your fucking mouth

fan8 i just know ynharrysthird is gonna lose it when she sees this 😭 she’s shipped them for ages

fan9 a ynharry collab would be so powerful

ynharrysthird oh. my. God.

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liked by harrystyles, lilymhe and others

yourusername *taps mic* this thing on? been a minute since you’ve heard from me i know. i had to take a break to focus on healing but i’m back and ready for the next chapter!! you all have been so, so patient and you’ve sent many kind words that have helped me more than you know. as a thank you, i’ve decided to release a lil somethin’…my ep wendy is available everywhere now! 🧚🏼‍♀️

view all comments

fan1 MOTHER IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER

yourbff i love you and i’m so proud of you 🥹

⤷ yourusername i love you 🫶🏼

oscarpiastri hey! so this is insane!

⤷ fan2 omg does this mean no one knew about the ep until now???

⤷ yourusername it was top secret 🤫

⤷ yourbff i knew 😌

⤷ oscarpiastri of course you did

⤷ yourbff you hate me cause you ain’t me

⤷ fan3 icon 😭

carlossainz55 do you want me to kill that guy for you, queen?

⤷ yourusername LMFAO

⤷ fan4 CARLOSDKFJGKS

fan5 this ep ruined my entire day but i wouldn’t have it any other way

mclaren 🧡 ♥︎ by author

harrystyles it’s been on repeat all day ❤️ congratulations on a fantastic ep!

⤷ yourusername thank you, harry 🥹

⤷ fan6 HARRY STYLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

⤷ fan7 he said he’s a fan in a recent interview! he even admitted that she’s his celebrity crush

⤷ fan8 harry please shoot your shot and show her how a REAL man is supposed to treat a woman

⤷ fan9 do we think she knows about him gushing about her?

⤷ fan11 congrats yourusername on being one of the few people to get harry to comment more than an emoji

alexandrasaintmleux in this house we eat, breathe, and sleep new yn music

⤷ charles_leclerc real

⤷ oscarpiastri real

⤷ lilymhe real

⤷ alex_albon real

⤷ maxverstappen1 real

⤷ danielricciardo real

⤷ logansargeant real

⤷ mclaren real

⤷ francolapinto real

⤷ pierregasly real

⤷ francisca.cgomes real

⤷ lewishamilton real

⤷ f1 real

⤷ fan11 well between carlos’ earlier comment and now this thread, we know who got yn in the breakup 😭

itsaria so. good. 💞

⤷ yourusername 💗

⤷ fan12 what the hell sure

⤷ fan13 dump lando and date each other

⤷ fan14 what in world is going on

fan15 not you making an ep all about lando after saying you’d never talk about what happened again 🙄 keep his name out your mouth!

⤷ yourusername i never said i wouldn’t sing about it. and just so we’re clear, his name doesn’t leave my mouth in a single song, which you’ll know when you secretly stream them later.

⤷ fan16 yn 😭

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

fan1 omg we’re being fed so well

oscarpiastri running to yt as we speak 🏃

⤷ yourusername my #1 fan

⤷ oscarpiastri think that title belongs to mr harry styles if we’re being real

⤷ yourusername pls 😭

alexandrasaintmleux love seeing my wifey everywhere lately 💕

⤷ yourusername 💞

fan2 it’s been so long since we’ve consistently gotten content that i almost don’t know how to act fkgjfjd

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harrystyles has added to their stories

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fan1 so pretty 💕

fan2 this pic is very you

yourusername 🌸🌸🌸

fan3 don’t be shy, show us your face

fan4 enjoy your day, king 💞

fan5 came back to this after yns story…you two are totally hanging out today omg

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

lilymhe can’t wait to hear how it’s going!! ♥︎ by author

fan1 pause……harry just posted a similar pic

fan2 omg sad i missed you ☹️ i was at that cafe yesterday!!

fan3 ARE YOU WITH HARRY STYLES RIGHT NOW FKGNVKS

fan4 you and harry linking up was everything i wanted but didn’t think i’d get

carlossainz55 🍿

⤷ yourusername ?

⤷ carlossainz55 don’t mind me, just sitting back with some popcorn to enjoy the show

⤷ yourusername 😭

harrystyles 🌸🌸🌸🌸

fan5 MY PARENTS ARE TOGETHER

fan6 pretty flowers 🥰

oscarpiastri interesting…very interesting 🧐

⤷ yourusername hehehehe

yourbff i would kill to see your dms rn 😭

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taglist: @pansexualdarling @mx13sworld @willowpains @nebarious @daemyratwst @angelluv16 @ggaslyp1 @hi26loveie @kikiki81 @eugene-emt-roe @nichmeddar @callsignwidow @harryssunflower17

[postersofleon]

A Good Dog's Reward

Leon S. Kennedy has been pinning over Ada Wong since he first saw her. Was it pathetic of him wanting to love a mercenary who will use him over and over again? Maybe, but that wasn't important right now. Ada promised him a romantic night in a lonely town. All Leon had to do was go after her. Finally, after thirteen years, Leon was going to fill her touch without the gun against his head. As he took a sip of his flask of whiskey, he eyed the door now. Waiting for the knock of Ada Wong.

content: smut and fluff (?)

notes: i have been busy working and being depressed so sorry about that. anyways, she/her pronouns for afab; i thought about this for a while, and ada would probably do this. imagined as og leon's plot in re4, sexually frustrated leon. basically, the reader is a replacement of ada, but leon ends up liking the two women for two different reasons, leon kind of sucks but not like horrible. is it good? i haven't written long stuff for months. not proof read

He was a trained soldier, and he was wasting his skills as a stupid lovesick man. Leon's eyes stared at the wall, counting the stupid flies that buzzed around in this ill ventilation room. The air conditioner wasn't even the ones with a solid base. It was one of those weak small ones. It was already broken and Leon tried fixing it with by cleaning the filter.

Nothing.

Typical of Ada.

Every second of his life, Leon was getting proven right that Ada was a complicated person to love. He was the stupid moron who decided to believe her words over and over, and he was spending his vacation in this stupid town.

God, Ada. Leon thought bitterly. It's 2011 now. You can't just leave me here with my dick in my hand.

Leon has been emotionally unavailable for every single woman in his life because of Ada. Ada couldn't give him a proper chance, and he didn't even care that he lost his chances with Claire, Angela, Ashley, and Hunnigan. He had to hope Ada wouldn't be cruel again, so his ear was focused on the door. Every couple of minutes, a married man would bring his mistress into the room beside Leon's. They had sex for thirty minutes, and they were out. Leon had heard eight couples having sex. Eight. He heard the cleaning lady's limp walk on her good leg, slightly dragging her hurt leg into the broken porcelain tiles. The cart was shaking all the items.

He trained with Krauser.

For this?

He heard a woman's high heel walk around, Leon sighed boredly. "Another mistress. Maybe around late twenties for an old guy." He lifted his hand up, his index finger moved with every click of the heel. But the heels stopped moving. Leon stayed quiet, his finger slowly pointed at his door. The knock.

Leon exhaled softly, "It's not Ada." He mumbled softly, he stood up and opened the door. A young woman was in front of Leon's door, she wore a green turtle neck with blue jeans. Leon won't lie that this woman was a beauty. "Hey?" Leon leaned back into the door frame, "I think you messed up doors?" He smiled, he tried to make himself look nice and cool. Yeah, he was lucky he was pretty because his awkward self would still be a virgin. Her eyes didn't seem to sway the insecurity Leon prayed she would feel.

He cleared the lump forming in his throat as she approached him. "I was told to come. A woman named A. Wong asked to take the man into a romantic date and to take his virginity?" Her voice was cool, it didn't have a sense of softness, but she definitely sounded confused to say the last part.

To take the virginity. Leon scoffed. Is that how Ada saw Leon? A stupid guy begging for any woman to fuck him.

"This has to be a joke, right?" He crossed his arms against his chest, "She didn't hire me an escort, right?" His right hand landed on his hair, pulling it gently as he thought about his life. All of these steps on protecting Ada led to this. Ada rented an escort for Leon's frustration sexual thoughts. "Listen, you are beautiful," Leon quickly said, his eyes tracing every detail of her body, "But I can't- I feel humiliated." Leon looked up at her face. Still praying it was a joke.

With the lack of care of the woman's face, Leon's face dropped, "What?" This felt like a new low of Leon Kennedy's life, "You have to feel for me or something, right? Bad that my apparent 'girlfriend' doesn't even want to see me." Leon felt pathetic as now he begged for pity. Before she could respond, Leon covered his face, "You are just going to say what I want so... I'm begging to nobody."

His foot tapped. All he could hear was the low humming of the AC along with it. Gently, he felt her hands rubbing his shoulder, easing him into looking at her. His body didn't deny her merciful caress, his body slowly flopped to see her.

"You aren't begging to nobody." Her caress led to his neck and face. Her eyes had a different type of sparkle than Ada's, yet his dumb heart fluttered the same way. They seemed like the same woman- or maybe that what Ada was. A persona. "I'm here." Her hand caressed his cheek as her body slowly pressed against his.

Leon felt like a useless asshole. "Did Ada give you lines of words to say?" He whined. Fuck, he was getting more embarrassing as he whined his way around two women now. He grabbed her wrist gently and kissed her palm, his wet lips made a small part of her body shine. He was easy. Maybe if the women in his life really tried, he would be on his knees begging for their love.

The excort smelled different than Ada, and it felt different from Ada. Leon kissed her forearm.

Pathetic.

"No," She whispered softly. She slowly pulled her hand away from Leon's, "I have my own my mind and thoughts." Her hand now landed on his stomach, slowly indicating him to go back. Leon walked backward, his eyes never leaving hers, "Yeah, I know." He tried to defend himself because every thought of Ada was that she over planned her things. She would not just just let this woman speak words that belonged to her mouth.

"So," She looked at him, a small smile appeared, "Trust me." Leon stopped when he felt the bed behind him. He sat on the bed, he wanted to trust her so badly because his cock was twitching itself alive. "I trust you." He mumbled, his hands anxiously rubbing his thighs. His eyes wouldn't want to leave her. Slowly, her body sat on top of his thighs, Leon, without thinking twice, grabbed her thighs and pressed her center against his bulge.

He could feel her pussy lips gently rubbing against him. "Fuck, I really trust you." He mumbled, his hands squeezed her thighs. His eyes were completely dilated, his hands rolled her hips against his limp. "F-fuck..." He felt that her hip rolls weren't just him. She was helping herself. He needed to help her but he couldn't focus with her heat. "There you go..." She rubbed her pussy on his bulge.

The heat of her body made Leon growl with the need, his fingertips could over feel the details of her body. It's as if the world granted him the wish to connect with someone for at least a second. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and the stupid jeans of hers felt thick to the touch now. His thumb gently rubbed her covered slit, pushing his thumb into it, and it seemed time went even slower when his eyes slowly looked up.

Her mouth was very slightly opened, exhaling in a feeble manner and his cock fully woke up. Slowly and steady, growing hard against his jeans. "Oh, fuck..."

There he went, slowly placing her below him, underneath the old queen bed that he repeatedly checked if it had bedbugs or actual listening bugs. Leon looked at her. The details of her eyes, the small cracks of her lips- She was human. A fucking real person after so long. Leon had seen the worst of humanity over and over, and the life he thought would make him feel better turned him bitter.

Leon's knees carefully pushed her thighs open, his hand holding the softness, and squeezed it. Her warmth through the jeans. He hadn't touched a woman like this for so long, and that was saying a lot. Who wouldn't want to be with him? His thumb gently pressed the core, and once he heard her breath gasp, he felt his cheeks burn up. His eyes looked up, trying to find a sense of peace that he was doing something right.

His breath was stuck in his lungs. For a second, she had the most beautiful doe eyes, her lips were parted with her breath become more frustrated. Shaking with that stupid need people sometimes crave. Leon understood his role. He understood her role.

Slowly, his finger slid down her covered slit, he could feel the warmth of her pussy. His other hand went towards the button of the jeans and popped it open. His thumb gently pushed the jean down, his eyes saw the warm body bellow him twitch. Her hips moved ever so slightly up. Leon chewed on his lower lip. He needed to calm down, he didn't want to cum way too early by only looking at her body. His thumbs traveled to the hips and slowly pushed down the jeans. Panties and all.

Now what? His cock ached to be inside of her. Begging to fuck her, but he wanted to eat her out as well. "Tell me what to do." Leon looked into her eyes. He was a stupid dog, begging for order to do something. He had his leash, tugging him back, holding him in a fake sense of dominance. He was a whining mess. "Please." His fingers squeezed the tender skin of the woman, his harden hands was getting lost in the softness he hasn't felt for the longest time.

His fingers slowly... Leon was so scared to even touch her pussy lips. Leon's finger traced the shape of her pussy, he leaned closer to her body. His knees were still forcing her legs open as his fingers toyed around the lips. He couldn't even touch the flesh yet. He looked into her eyes.

Her eyes still held that shit that he loved. The vulnerability he craved from Ada, Ada's usually cold eyes and the cold metal of the gun muzzle pressed against his head. But now, a woman looked at him without that. All of her was warm. Leon pressed his needy bulge into her core, rubbing himself like a desperate puppy.

She let out small groans, his hips rolled into her, and his hands lifted up her thighs. Squeezing her butt and lifting her legs higher.

The throbbing dick rubbed and rubbed against her clit. She pressed her head back into the pillows, "F-fuck..." Her hands landed above her head, her heavy breathing made his groans grow. Her body was trembling. Leon pulled away and looked one last time at the view down. His hand palmed her tit one last time until his fingers played with the belt.

"I, I know," Leon couldn't speak a lot, his cock was too hard for him to think straight, "I know..." He took off his belt and jeans. His hand pulled out his cock and balls, his hand slowly went up until his thumb squeezed gently his tip and oozed it out. His pre-cum was killing him, he really wanted to fuck her raw, but he stopped himself. His hips movements were empty, his eyes couldn't look away from her pussy. "I brought a condom." He whispered, his hand let go of his cock, "I..." Leon went to his bag, he kicked off his jeans and took off his shirt.

The paranoia was killing him of the idea sometime seeing him so fucking fragile. Leon turned a second towards her. She took off her turtleneck and he felt his ass clench. Making his dick bounce. Leon took notice of the details of her back, trying to see and find her old scars, moles or anything so he can try to kiss it.

A loser.

His mind was calling him a loser over and over, but his fingers met her bra strap and slowly took it off. She let out a small sigh of satisfaction and he hugged from the back, his cock on her ass as he pushed her gently into her hands and knees. Leon's stubble rubbed against her neck, filling himself with affection with her small giggle. "You like that?" He grinned.

She nodded her head, "Yeah."

He chuckled softly. His hand pushed down his cock towards her cunt, "The condom?" She asked with another giggle. "Right." Leon kissed her shoulder and got the forgotten condom. "I got it. I got it." Leon went back to the bed and ripped up the wrapping. This wasn't the usual side of him. Back in the academy, he was smooth and easy to flirt, but now he was bubbling soda, ready to explode if something shook him up.

He put on the condom and leaned back into her back. "Don't judge me, okay?" He smiled, leading his cock slowly inside of her. She landed her head on the pillows, a happy hum escaped her lips. Leon groaned. He didn't want to go on fucking her like an inexperienced animal. He felt the stretch, how he was shaping her velvet walls for his need. He didn't push it immediately, he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit. "Fuck..." He growled weakly, "Oh, fuck..." Her pussy was so wet, so good, so fucking perfect.

Slowly...

Leon's heart was stuck in his throat.

Slowly...

She whined. Oh, what a whimper. Leon's hand the end of her spine, rubbing her hipbone for a second until...

Leon leaned forward and shoved his cock completely inside of her. "Wait, baby..." He shuffled her hips gently, barely even moving each other. His hand lifted her a bit, "I don't want to break you too much..." He kissed her shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around her tummy. Leon kissed her cheek, "I got you..." His voice wasn't above a whisper. Every detail of her body was trembling, he groaned- his eyes rolled back with gentle love taps. It was the slowest, shallow thrusts he had ever done, but he didn't care. His arms tighten around her, "Fuck..." She gasped.

Leon's heart was beating so fast, so harshly that he nearly lost himself. His butt clenched, he needed to fuck her; what else would he have besides this? Her cunt clenched around his aching cock, trying to milk everything he could give her.

God.

God.

God...

Leon's hips went faster, the lewd sound of her wetness came and ruined the bed. The header of the bed began to gently creak back and worth. His hands grabbed her breasts, his fingers were gentle, and they always had to be careful to not pull on the trigger. His thumbs found her nipples and gently tugged them.

The idiot grunted when she moaned. His hands palmed more of her tender flesh, "Fuck, fuck.." Her wall were so fucking... Leon cried out, his hips movements were slowly and slowly increasing.

He couldn't lose this feeling. He can't lose how her pussy clenched around him. Leon grabbed her hips, thrusting and with every small moment of pause, his cock pulsed. "Please..." She shivered. Leon nodded his head once, his hands from her breasts landed slide down and down until he met her pussy lips.

Without a thought, he felt he was trained for this. How long has it been since he rubbed a clit?

He was a really pathetic guy, but her pussy felt too good. Leon pushed his heavy weight on top of hers, "Sorry..." He grumbled into her ear. His poor cheeks were blushing, "It-It's fine." She exhaled weakly. Leon kissed her shoulder, he was completely pressing his heavy body. "You are so heavy." She mumbled softly with another feeble laugh. His cock twitched, throbbed happily inside of her cunt. He had forgotten how much he loved to have sex, it wasn't just a quick fuck. It was the conversations.

He pulled away from her, and she let out a deep inhale. The pair glanced at each other, Leon cupped her face gently, and another kiss was shared. His tongue slipped into her mouth and moaned pathetically against her mouth. His fingers pressed against her skin, Leon felt her own tongue enter his mouth and his cock was leaking more into the condom. Leon tilted his head away and it didn't bother her. The woman kissed his neck, biting it ever so lightly and god, he fucking loved it. He chewed on his lip and groaned happily. Leon rolled his eyes back into his skull.

"Mm," Leon's hand was trying to hold her hip, pulling her close to his body, "T-that's it." Her hand landed on his happy trail and rubbed his stomach. Leon groaned contentedly. He laid on the bed and invited her silently into his lap. Perhaps he looked too pathetic. He didn't have the cute baby face he once had. He was old, and nobody wanted that in their life. He was the stupid age of thirty-four. He didn't have time to be his age when he was forced to work for the government. He couldn't drink his first legal beer without friends he used to have and all the friends he could've made in the force. He could've met the Redfields in a better situation; he could've even been a normal guy without fearing his own bullet would enter his mouth and leave his skull.

Her body straddled his hips. His tired hands rested on her hips. It came so naturally. His blue eyes slowly trailed up. His cock on his stomach, twitching and the poor condom was full of of pre-cum. Her pussy. Her stomach breathing in and out. Fuck, he couldn't feel her heart, but based of her reaction he knew was causing this. His hand went up, his thumb caressed her under boob and went directly to rub her nipple. His other hand encouraged her body to move up, he needed to be inside again because the first time wasn't enough.

Thankfully, she did as she was told. His hand gripped his cock and aimed for her hole. "C'mon, princess, don't make me beg." He let go of her breast and went back to her hip. He knew he had that stupid hazy look in his eyes. Slowly, bit by bit, she lowered her hips down onto his tip. Both of his hands grabbed her hips. His nose crinkled, "Oh, fuck." His hands grabbed her ass and pushed himself deeper into her heat. His eyes looked at her breasts, her nipples perked up when he had shoved his cock in completely.

Leon nodded his head mindlessly, "Yeah, fuck." His hand cupped her breasts again, his thumb teased the pretty perked up nipple. His eyes were half open like hers were. She was moaning weakly again. Leon slapped her tit and he felt his body burn with more and more lust. His own hips unconsciously against her. Her groans turned into whines, "Leon..." She tilted her head back. He grabbed her breast and pinched her nipples, "Fuck." Leon pumped his cock faster and faster, her walls squeezed against his cock and he tilted his head back into the bed.

His hand traveled down her stomach and found her clit. The cute little thing was throbbing for him. Both were breathing heavily. The crappy hotel didn't matter anymore. He wanted to fuck her forever. He choked out a moan, "Oh, God, you are so beautiful." He whined weakly. That's when he came into his rubber, his finger was rubbing and rubbing her clit. He couldn't allow her to not come, he gasped again when her cunt squeezed him again and she followed after him.

"Sorry," He cupped her face and kissed her, "Sorry for cumming a bit to early." Leon's hand shoved his dark hair back, his blue eyes met the woman's eyes again. She smiled weakly, "I-It's fine." She could feel her throat dry up and Leon couldn't stand it anymore. He cuddled against her, his eyes completely wide from the feeling of touching someone after so long. He can't let go.

It was the first peaceful night he felt. He controlled his breathing for a second, "I forgot to ask..." He took off his condom from his body. The bed squeaked. When she looked at him, oh, fuck. His post cum clarity didn't help at well when he saw her. She was so beautiful. Leon knew his cheeks turned red because, God, it burned. His cheeks burned. Leon was lost in a certain moment he couldn't explain. Her arm rested above his lean body, the coated warmth of loving a woman. Leon kept her close. He wouldn't want her to fall out of his grasp.

[zepskies]

Aw thank you so much for giving me the idea and letting me run with it!! 🥰

Oooh I feel like with Big Sky you can start from the last episode of season 2 and more or less understand why Beau is there. Whereas with the Boys...yeah, you definitely need to see season 1 and 2 before you watch 3. 😉 Still, I'm so glad you could still have fun with this batch of HCs!!

Aww no worries on 10 Inch. It's not the best movie ever, but Priestly is oh so very adorkable in it! 💜💜

Hahaa yay!! Another Friends fan! 💕

I was imagining MEV reader again, and as I was writing this I kept getting myself confused because I’m relating her to Monica’s love of cooking. But Dean is a bit of a mother hen and fussy with the cleanliness of his room, so he’s definitely got some similarities with Monica there haha - role reversal when the ‘bossy’ one gets bossed - just go to bed Dean!

Awww honestly it makes me so happy you were imagining the Midnight Espresso-verse reader! 🥹 That version of her and Dean live in my heart rent free always. But you're right, she totally embodies Dean's love of cooking while he holds her down in a similar way that Chandler holds down and supports Monica. She also dotes on Dean a lot though, so it would make sense to me how she'd be taking care of Dean and making sure he slows down to take care of himself. 💞 (Yes, go right to bed, Dean!!)

I’m really surprised by Beau’s character. I’ve read a couple of fics where the big 3 were all present, granted they were crackish, but I was under the impression he was a little more grounded and sweeter? And I guess he probably is, I’ll give him a pass because he has the man flu, but I didn’t realise he was such a work-a-holic. Then again, he’s a sheriff, makes sense. And at least he listens eventually, even if there were a few, I’ll say instructions. Man runs a right ship. “And can you get me…”

Aw yeah, Beau tends to be more grounded and a little more mature than Dean, but he still has a playful aspect to him, along with a hidden edge of trauma in his past (you'll see when you watch the show).

Yes! The idea was that he's the sheriff and really gets into his work, but once he caves to her telling him he needs to take it easy, it was my HC that he'd settle into being her patient. More sweet but annoying, in a "can you get me just one more thing, baby?" kind of way lmao.

He’s just a dick, a grumbly one, but also a softie and wants some love deep down right? You won’t win it with yachts, mate, although I guess it’s worked for him before?

Oooh yes, Ben is selfish and an asshole, most of the time. Taciturn and grumpy, but for someone he actually cares about I feel like he'd try to soften up just for her. 😉

LOL he's learning that love isn't just throwing money around. 😆

I’m going to see if I can watch Ten Inch Hero 🤞 - but now I really want to know if I was to read one of your Ben fics (being a super hero interests me the most), is there one I could read where I wouldn’t have to watch the show first? 👉👈 spoilers don’t bother me, I read supernatural fics set in the bunker before I’d even gotten there 😅 but I want to check one out and Break Me Down is looking very appealing ❤️

10 Inch Hero is an easy watch! Though with Soldier Boy, I reeeeally recommend you watch The Boys first to get a sense of the world, the characters, the background of SB's story. It's a wild ride lol, but I would truly love it if you read Break Me Down! That's the SB series I'm most proud of, and was my first foray into figuring out how to write Soldier Boy. 🥰💚 Hopefully BMD emulates the tone of the show. I tried to do justice to SB's characterization, as well as the other Boys characters, like Butcher, Hughie, Annie, M.M. etc.

However, if you do decide to dive into BMD before watching the show, the main thing you need to know is that Soldier Boy (real name Ben) is a Boys parody of Captain America...if with a Winter Soldier "captured by Russians and tortured for 40 years" storyline. 😅

At the end of season 3, there's a big showdown between Homelander, SB, Butcher, and the rest of the main characters. BMD is canon divergent from how season 3 ended, but you can read up on the canon plotline here.

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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[dollwhite]

Singing death

[not a chapter]

All writing made by me will be under the tag ‘dollings work’

Also I’m thinking about making a side account but I don’t really think I want to because i would like to focus more on this one.

Made by Dolling

“Tim.. this is the second time this month.” You said, you arms folded in front of your chest. Staring instantly at your now broken window. “You’ve got a key for a reason child” you added.

It’s not like you didn’t have the money to fix all of the broken windows,but having to pull excuses out of your ass when the workers ask what happened. Was getting exhausting, you bought an extra key for him and he has his own room in your condo. But he still brokes your windows??

Kids now days.

Ya didn’t mine back then, because it was always fun to get a surprise visit from Tim. But now it’s like he doesn’t know when to go home, don’t get confused you loved Tim like he was your own son. But sometimes he had to remember, you’re not his bio mother. And that you had your own needs, like dating!

Before meeting Tim, you love life was not… not the best. With you being a popular singer, trying to find someone to date. Who wasn’t with you because you were famous and rich was hard, even other rich people wanted to date you because you were the famous ‘s/n’

And when you took a break from singer, you thought.

“oh maybe I’ll have time to date now!”

oh boy how wrong you were, it’s like the first week you took a break Tim showed up. And with him being thrown in your life, you didn’t have time to date.

But today was your date night, it’s the first date you choose to go to in months. But now you have to cancel why? Because your ‘son’ decided instead of going back to the batcave or whatever it was that the farry bat had. He came to your condo, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know what today was, you had told him two weeks ahead.

Just so he know that you wouldn’t be home, so he wouldn’t come with one of his surprise visits. But he came anyway, and he broke your window!

It’s not like you didn’t get him a key to your place the thread week you guys met. Maybe he liked brokering windows? You hoped not…

“Maybe I miss you?” The why Tim said these words, they felt… calculated.like this encounter was all planned out?

“Don’t give me that bullshit, look at my window!” Maybe it was the fact that, you had known Tim for about five months now. That you felt so comfortable scolding him or the fact that you done it so often.

Or the fact that he got himself into trouble a lot.

“I’ll get Bruce to buy you a new one.” Tim murmured as he walked up to you, holding his arms out in expectations for a hug.

“Tim.” You muttered. “You are grounded.”

“Hm- thought you were going to [readers] house?” Jason said, staring at Tim. “She grounded me.”

“S-she [reader] grounded, I’m sorry you? Ain’t you her self proclaimed child?” Dick added. It was after petrol, that they all decided to have a game night hell even Jason was there.

Of course with the exception of Tim as he wanted to give reader a visits and maybe stay the night at their house. It’s like 85 percent of the Tim lived with reader, and that other 15 percent? Oh he spent that time at school.

“And what did you do for her to decide to ground you?” A malicious little voice rung out. It was Damian of course, no one else liked to torture Tim more than him.

Maybe Jason on a bad day but still, it’s like that little demon liked to see to suffer.

“How does she even ground you if you don’t live with her?” Duke asked.placing down a drew four on the coffee table, for Cass.

“Yeh, how does that even work?”

“I’m grounded from her house.” Tim answered, it was a pretty obvious answer to him but maybe some people just don’t get the contacts clues.

“That sucks little guy”

Can u guys tell their playing uno? Also SCHOOL IS CLOSED TOMORROW!! So I might add on to this<333

Anddd do u guys like the name Allure being readers singer name or should I change it?

Also the little special one short I was goin to do…. I don’t think it’s going to be done in time 😭🙏🏽 if y’all have any questions about siren reader don’t be shy ask meee!!

[jd-loves-fiction]

Second req (pls take your time ofc, I'm just writing these down so I don't forget)

Same platonic dynamic. Boothill, Blade, Aventurine and Argenti being visited by reader's mother at night (she is a ghost) who thanks them for taking care of her child

🌑pull up a chair you basically live in my inbox by now 😭😭

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Thinks his systems are failing

Even considers that maybe the doctors did sneak a chip into his brain after all

Genuinely thinks he's tweaking for a second, and honestly still might by the end of the exchange

But he listens to the woman dutifully when she announces herself as your mother

Doesn't say a thing for a while after she's done because he's still processing it all

But once he's done he swears to her that he will continue to do as he has, just as he had already sworn to himself long ago

Still doesn't fully understand if any of what he just experienced is real, but it wouldn't change how he acted whether or not it was real

Doesn't tell you about it

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Being a Xianzhou native, he's used to spirits - as used as anyone could be

Still freaks the fuck out inside for a second

Before remembering that him being alive and (mostly) sane is about as likely as a benign ghost, so he decides to hear her out

Doesn't feel like he deserves such praise but admires your mother's determination - all this just to thank him and he's so ready to just brush it aside

Of course he doesn't tell her that, just thanks her softly and takes a bow, vowing to continue taking care of you

The vow is more for her than him, because he was already set on continuing to protect even before she showed up

Will eventually tell you, just needs to sit with the memory for a bit

✦ 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 ✦

His first thought is what in the fu--

Then he remembers what happened in Penacony and quickly calms down

What the hell, sure💀

When she reveals who she is, he starts believing her for real - who would even know about his attachment to you in order to trick him like this?

Doesn't feel as if he deserves the praise at all, feels as if he could've done so much more-- should've done so much more to keep you from going down the exact same road as he

If only he'd worked a little harder, the slavers would've never gotten hold of you and no one would ever have to suffer as he did

But the raw honesty of the woman's voice gets to him and he feels his eyes burning slightly, thinking about if the roles had been reversed

And quickly shuts that down, doesn't swear to her out loud that he'll continue to look out for you but the look in his eyes says enough

Tells you about it later in a jokey tone - you can't tell if he's lying or not

✦ 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢 ✦

This guy just goes along with whatever Idrila throws at him, so yeah, ghost mom, sure

Ready to start his good ol' beauty speech, until she mentions your name

He's never sat so still in his life, listening intently

Dismisses the praise easily and tells her that it's just his duty, it's what he swore he'd do already

His heart aches for all you had to go through and he admires your mother greatly for going so far just to thank him

Takes a knee and swears that he'll keep you safe as he continues his mission - there's always space for you by his side

[concretejunglefm]

Obsession.

Have you ever craved somebody so much that you literally ache?

Summary: Ever since Noah first laid eyes on you, you’ve been the object of his desires and occupied his thoughts. However, there’s one catch—you’re Jolly’s girlfriend.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader (Jolly's girlfriend) with mentions of Jolly Karlsson.

CW: Heavy pining and slight patheticness from Noah.

AN: The timeline and progress of this little story may be skewed, and there’s definitely an unreliable narrator in the form of Noah.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Noah can’t stop thinking about you. Since Jolly introduced you as his new girlfriend, you’ve been the only thing on his mind.

There should’ve been some guilt for this, especially when his thoughts about you turned to lust, leading him to fantasize about you and give in to his urges, where he would say your name like a prayer every time he came over his hand and stomach. Even when you were just meters away in the next room, completely unaware of his actions.

It didn’t start that way, though. Initially, everything had been innocent. You were kind, funny, and pretty in a way that made everyone joke that you were too good for Jolly. However, Noah was aware that you were too good for him.

During late summer, when the guys all decided to have a last-minute barbecue, Jolly chose that time to introduce you. 

Noah was aware that he'd been seeing someone, but he didn’t realize how serious it was until he brought you around, eager to show you off like a new trophy. Admittedly, Noah felt a twinge of envy the first time he laid eyes on you.

“And this is Noah,” Jolly breaks the ice, introducing you. Noah offers a timid wave, already feeling the nerves fluttering as he was in your presence. “He’s also my roommate, so you’ll be seeing his pretty face around quite a bit.” 

Noah’s eyes flicker to Jolly and widen with a ‘what the fuck’ type of expression, but the moment you let out a laugh, his eyes fall back onto you, completely captivated by such a beautiful sound. Now all he wants is to hear you laugh again, even if it comes at his own expense.

As the party progresses, everyone starts to mingle and unwind in the relaxed atmosphere. Meanwhile, Noah has become preoccupied with overthinking how to initiate a simple conversation with you. He is so caught up in his own thoughts that he is startled when you finally break the ice.

“That’s a cool tattoo.” 

He glances down to his thigh, where you had gestured to one of his favorite tattoo designs peeking out from beneath his shorts. “Oh, that? Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” He pulls up the end of his shorts, revealing the full Itachi design, standing up slightly as he tries to show it off to you. 

“So cool,” he hears you murmuring as you lean down to fully examine the design. Having you so close to him makes his head dizzy and his heart race.

He quickly fumbles over his words, trying tries his best to prevent himself from being overwhelmed by the thoughts that are rapidly entering his mind. “It's from my favorite anime, Naruto. Have you ever heard of it?” He barely takes a breath before pulling his short leg back down and settling into the garden chair once more. 

As he rattles off random facts and Easter eggs about the show, he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious. Even as he hears himself, he wants to stop, but your soft smile and nodding in response has him continuing. Somehow, your attentive listening makes him feel compelled to keep going, his lisp occasionally slipping through, causing him to stumble further over his words.

As he finally catches his breath, you speak, “Oh, so is that Naruto?” You point down to his thigh. 

If it weren’t you, he would likely have lectured the person asking, about the difference, but instead, he simply laughs and shakes his head. “No, that’s Itachi.”

“What can you tell me about him?” You ask.

Noah can't tell whether you’re genuinely interested in knowing more or not. However, before he can continue, Jolly intervenes, sweeping a hand across your shoulders while glancing down between you both. 

“Don’t get him started on his anime shows; he’ll never stop talking about them.” The Swede chuckles, and you join in, as does Noah in a manner which feels forced because that comment makes him feel inferior and like Jolly's mocking his interests. 

Noah knows that he’s not. Jolly never says anything with a malicious intent. Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel slighted by it, especially when Jolly invites you to come inside with him, and you bid them all a; “It was nice to meet you all.”

And it was, nice to meet you.

That was six months ago, and somehow, you’re still stuck in Noah’s system. He’s tried dating, hooking up with random girls, and even the occasional girl he knows, but nothing seems to extinguish the flame he holds for you or satisfy the gnawing need he feels for you. 

His inability to perform in those moments also brought any attempt to move on from you to an abrupt halt.

And you accompanying the band on tour only intensified Noah’s longing for you. 

Instead of being able to hide out in his room or leave the house, he was forced to spend the duration of the tour with you. If you weren’t in the sound booth, you were at the side of the stage, watching them perform. If you were staying at the hotel with them, you shared a room with Jolly, which always conveniently seemed to be next to Noah’s own. 

This proximity to you drove him crazy, and it was his reasoning for sneaking into your room one day, just to get himself off over the smell of you still lingering on your sleep shorts—the same pair that he held onto for the rest of your time on tour before they conveniently reappeared in the laundry when you returned home.

Being back has only continued to worsen the situation, especially since you’ve been staying over more frequently than ever. Although Jolly hasn’t officially declared it, you’ve essentially moved in. You spend more nights over than you don’t, and when Jolly isn’t home, you spend your free time with Noah. 

While Noah enjoys and savors these moments, it's still not enough, he still needs and craves more from you. He’s becoming desperate, seeking ways to spend time alone with you that are inconspicuous enough to capture your attention and possibly even your affection, without it becoming too evident what he’s seeking from you.

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero

[the-kr8tor]

Fate's Funny Way of Saying Hello

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A childhood friend comes to the rescue after a horrendous valentine's day.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), childhood friend/crush! Ekko, best friends to lovers, pining, established relationship, lovestruck! Ekko, modern AU, CW food mentions, fluff.

Special thanks to @pleaktale for the idea and title!

Navigation

The rain pelts at your front, breeze passing by and splashing your already ruined make-up. Your shoes and the hem of your pretty dress are soaked, immediately regretting that you decided to dress up in your best heels and satin dress just to be stood up by a no good date.

“Fucker.” You curse his name and existence under your breath.

The cold seeps through your thin coat, making you shiver and tuck yourself further into the small awning at the front of the restaurant you were supposed to dine at. It was embarrassing enough that you waited for three hours at the table with nothing but service water and free bread to accompany you. The pitiful stares you got from the wait staff and couples had you embarrassed to your very core. The hearts and pink decorations didn't help much with your cracked heart. And he had the audacity to reschedule the date when you've already been waiting for hours. It's safe to say that boyfriend, now turned ex, will be celebrating Valentine's day alone. And so will you.

With a sigh, you're desperate to go home in your tiny apartment and have a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows. The simple thought alone has your mind going back to six years ago when you once shared a cup with your childhood friend and love, Ekko. You two might've parted ways after graduation and when you had to move for university, but he never truly left your mind even after a handful of lovers. He was truly it for you, the man you always thought you'd spend the rest of your life with. But with the hustle and bustle of life and whatever shit it throws at you and Ekko, you haven't spoken to him or seen him in years. You've only messaged him holiday greetings occasionally and of course the yearly birthday greetings. You always wish that it wasn't that way, that you'd talk to him on the phone until the birds start their morning song outside just like the good old days unlike now with the usual ‘thank you!’ you and him receive. Sometimes you have to accept that friendships and relationships dwindle, but you wish this one didn't, not when he still has a space in your heart.

You feel tears flow down your cheeks, and you immediately wipe it away with your sleeve, accidentally smudging your mascara on the fabric. As if the day couldn't get any worse, you just cost yourself a pretty penny at the dry cleaner. You promised yourself that you wouldn't cry or lament on what happened today, but you can't help but feel that it was all your fault. If Ekko was here, he'd smack you over the head and hold you while whispering reassurances. You hope he's doing well for himself, he deserves that much.

The rain turns into a proper downpour, grey clouds prominent in the sky as the breeze whistles a tune. The small awning shielding you can't take the brunt of it as your front is now drenched. Sighing and shrugging, you take the rain in stride, bracing it all once you walk towards the bus stop across the road. Based on your old worn down wristwatch, you only have to wait four minutes for it to stop by.

Stepping out of the awning, you let the rain soak you, water seeping through your clothes and cold biting into your skin. You either look insane right now or a badass as you strut casually on the soaked pavement.

You stop by the sidewalk, looking left and right and waiting for traffic to let you cross. But as you stand there, drenched from head to toe, make-up wasted as mascara runs down your cheeks, the rain suddenly stops from above you. And just above you.

Looking up, you see an umbrella covering you and not the usual grey skies. Brows knitted together, you roam your eyes down to the handle and over to the hand holding it.

“Figured you need it.” A voice says, one that you haven't heard in years. You're sure that the dozen free bread you've eaten was laced with something that you're now starting to hallucinate. “You seem like you're having a bad day.”

Staring eye to eye with your savior, deep chestnut eyes greets you, and an awfully familiar shade of platinum hair has your lungs frozen.

“Ekko?”

His eyes widen as realization blooms on his handsome face. “I—” whispering your name as if he never stopped calling you, he smiles, tender and soft just like how you remembered it. “Is it really you?”

You nod, hand reaching for him but you retreat back as trepidation holds you down. “Yeah, it's me under this mess.” Gesturing towards your face, Ekko scoffs, a sound akin to a laugh.

“You're not a mess, and I've seen your messier self and this isn't it.” He shakes his head, palm unconsciously reaching out for you before he stops himself. You give him a small smile, enough to have his chest feeling heavy. “How— are you okay?” Skipping the pleasantries, as if the years haven't gone by in a wink. It's still you, the one he loved— still love, standing before him, soaked and with sadness in your eyes, and yet he hasn't seen a more beautiful sight in six years.

“I—” you inhale deeply, glancing at the passing cars before you turn to him fully. The umbrella could barely fit the two of you together and his shoulder gets the brunt of the rain. “No, I'm not.” You let out, voice cracking above the pitter patter of rain.

“Do you want me to beat him up? I still got it in me.”

“How'd you know it was because of a guy?”

“You've got the same face when Harry broke it off with you.” He nudges your hand, and your fingers magnetize to his own; you had to fight it back to your side.

“You still remember that?” Your heart aches for the time lost with him. You want nothing more but to gain it back, but you stay in the present where he is right in front of you, smiling like he hasn't aged a day since you last saw him.

“Of course, got the scar to prove it.” Eyeing the scar on his knuckle on the hand where he's holding the umbrella, you follow his gaze, seeing the barely there star shaped scar.

“I'm still so sorry about that.” You wince, hand already grasping at his hand and thumb brushing along the pinprick scar left. You can't fight it anymore. “I still remember that his piercing got embedded in it.”

Your hand still feels the same against his own.

He watches your concerned face, flinging him back to the past when you tended to the same hand. “I'll do it all over again, he was an ass to you.” Taking your hand, he doesn't stop it, letting it happen. His body missed you just like his heart did. The cold metal of your watch takes his attention briefly, eyes widening at the fact that you're still wearing the same watch he gave you all those years ago. “How…how have you been, trouble?”

“Missed me?” You intend to joke, but you wish he did miss you.

Yes.

“Yes.” Ekko chuckles nervously, nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners. Shifting his weight, he still hasn't let your hand go. “I–I did.”

You feel a tear flow down your cheek, this time you don't have the rain to mask it anymore. “I missed you too, Ekko. We just stopped talking and I thought—”

His arm wraps around your back, pulling you close despite your wet clothes clinging to him. “I'm sorry, I got too busy and—” he sniffs as you find your usual place on the crook of his neck, warming you. “—I should've tried at least.”

“No, it's my fault.” You whisper atop his skin. “I should've visited just like how we talked about. And called and texted and fucking did something.” Frustration and guilt rolls off of you in waves. “I'm sorry too.”

Ekko reluctantly pulls away, thumb brushing the tears away from your cold cheek. His love for you can't return because it has never left.

“Let's try again then.” Maybe this time all the longing glances and obvious pining would blossom into more than friendship. He hopes it will when his heart still sings for you after all these years. “I'm here now, out of everyone in the city, we bumped into each other. It's a clear sign, trouble.”

“You telling me that Ekko, the same Ekko who used to scoff at astrology, now believes in fate?” Poking his side, he beams at you and the sun peeks behind the grey clouds as if it had come out to see the fated reunion.

“Well if you're standing here with me, it must be, right?” Tugging you close, he cups your cheek, drenched skin atop his warm palm. But he doesn't seem to care as long as you stare at him warmly with your hands pressed on his chest like you used to.

“Let's catch up. Care for a hot cocoa at my place?”

“With the same tooth rotting marshmallows you love?” You nod, excited for what the future entails. Ekko grins, eyes shining from sunlight beaming down on the two of you. “Let's not waste time then.”

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