#staying close to him until he stops shaking

[mrsfancyferrari]

More Kisses?

Summary: LN4 + “One kiss is just never enough.”

Song: Mitski – My Love Mine All Mine

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

The moment you stepped into your shared apartment, the weight of your decision to impose a "kiss ban" hung heavily in the air. You had just returned from spending time with Lando’s family, a chaotic gathering full of laughter, inside jokes, and the unmistakable warmth of family love.

It was delightful, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that Lando’s relentless affection was bordering on overwhelming, even if it was sweetly intoxicating.

“Babe! I’m home!” you called out, hoping to summon him from whatever corner of the apartment he was in.

You heard a loud crash and then a string of colorful curses that made you stifle a laugh. He really should have been more careful. A moment later, Lando appeared, looking slightly disheveled, his tousled hair more charming than ever.

“Baby! You’re back!” he exclaimed, his green eyes lighting up. He rushed over, arms outstretched for a hug, but you placed a gentle hand on his chest, stopping him just short of closing the distance.

“Wait,” you said, your tone firm yet soft, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flit around. “We need to talk.”

Lando's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Talk? About what?” He leaned in closer, the teasing smile on his face betraying his eagerness to press his lips against yours.

You sighed, taking a step back to put some distance between you. “About the kissing,” you said, trying to keep your expression serious despite the laughter bubbling inside you. “I think we need a ban.”

“A ban? A ban on what?” he asked, incredulity creeping into his voice.

“Kissing,” you clarified, your heart racing as you felt his gaze bore into you, almost as if he was trying to understand the madness that was your idea.

He chuckled, tilting his head as he tried to gauge whether you were joking. “Are you serious right now? You want to ban kisses? How does that even work?”

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure. “Oscar suggested it. He said he’s tired of watching us kiss shamelessly in front of him. And honestly, it’s getting a bit out of hand, don’t you think?”

Lando’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine concern. “But I can’t help it! One kiss is just never enough!” He took a small step toward you, his playful demeanor shifting into something more sincere. “You know I just love being close to you, right?”

You felt the warmth creeping up your cheeks, the sincerity of his words hitting you like a wave. “I know, and I love that about you, but we can’t just… kiss every second. We need some boundaries. Maybe we can focus on other ways to express our love, like words or…” You trailed off, searching for a distraction. “Cooking together?”

Lando’s brows furrowed deeper, and he chuckled again, albeit a bit resigned this time. “Cooking? Really? You think that’s a fair substitute for kisses?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual, “it’s definitely less distracting. Plus, I make a mean spaghetti.”

He shook his head, a smile breaking through his mock frustration. “You know I can’t resist your spaghetti. But can’t we do both? Kiss and cook?”

You tried to suppress a giggle. “See! That’s exactly what I mean! You can’t even think about anything else but kissing!”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, smirking. “But only when it comes to you. It’s like every time I look at you, I just… I want to kiss you. You’re irresistible.”

A flutter of warmth settled in your chest at his admission, but you had to stay strong. “So, no kisses until further notice,” you said, attempting to sound authoritative, though the twinkle in your eyes gave away your struggle.

Lando sighed dramatically, flopping onto the couch with mock despair. “This is a dark day in history. My heart feels like it’s been put in a cage.”

You laughed, the tension dissipating slightly. “It’s just a temporary ban! We can revisit this later. For now, let’s focus on some quality time without the kisses.”

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “Fine, but if I’m going to be tortured with this ban, you’d better be the one to cook.”

“Deal,” you said, walking into the kitchen, still smiling. You could hear him mumbling exaggeratedly about the cruelty of your ban as he followed you.

As you began to gather the ingredients for spaghetti, Lando leaned against the counter, watching you with a fond expression that made your heart race. “You know,” he said, “I can’t believe you actually put a ban on kissing. It’s like trying to stop a wildfire with a bucket of water.”

“I just want to enjoy our time together without feeling like I’m constantly on guard against your lips,” you replied, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“On guard? You make it sound like I’m some sort of villain, lurking in the shadows, waiting to steal a kiss,” he laughed, and you could see the mischief brewing in his eyes.

You turned to face him, hands on your hips. “You kind of are! Always sneaking up on me when I least expect it.”

His grin widened. “Okay, fair point. But can I at least get a kiss before we start cooking? Just one? A tiny one?”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. “Nope! That’s against the rules!”

He pouted, an exaggerated look of disappointment crossing his face. “This is torture, and here I thought we could enjoy a peaceful evening together. How can we have peace without kisses?”

“We can enjoy each other’s company! We can talk, laugh, and maybe even—”

“Cook,” he finished, his voice dripping with faux resignation. “Right. The not-kissing evening.”

Despite the ban, the energy between you felt electric, even with the kitchen separating you. You busied yourself with chopping vegetables, trying to ignore the way Lando was still watching you, as if you were the only thing in the world.

Suddenly, he took a step closer, his tone shifting to something more playful. “You know, I’m still going to try to sneak in a kiss, right?”

You glanced up, your heart racing. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, I would! The ban may be in effect, but I’m nothing if not persistent.”

You shook your head, a laugh escaping your lips. “You are impossible!”

“And yet you love me for it.” He leaned against the kitchen island, a smug grin on his face.

“Maybe,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But you might just make me regret this decision.”

“Challenge accepted!” he declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

As the evening unfolded, you both settled into a rhythm, laughing and talking as you cooked together. It felt nice, invigorating even, to focus on something other than the usual frenzy of kisses.

You could see the effort Lando was making to respect the ban, though every now and then, he would inch closer to you, his lips parting as if to tease.

When dinner was finally ready, you plated the spaghetti and sat across from each other at the small dining table. As you took your first bite,

Lando leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, a mischievous glint still in his eyes. “I have to say, this is pretty good, but it would be better with a kiss.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You are relentless!”

“It’s a gift,” he said, winking at you. “Just think of me as your charming little devil.”

By the time dessert came around, a rich chocolate cake that you had made for the occasion, the kiss ban had become a playful game between you two.

Lando would swoop in close, pretending to lean in for a kiss, and you would laugh and pull away, your heart racing at the prospect of breaking the ban.

But as the evening wore on and you both sunk into comfortable conversation, you found yourself forgetting about the kiss ban, enjoying his presence more than you thought possible. And despite the kisses you both were missing, the connection felt even more profound.

Eventually, you both settled back on the couch, empty plates pushed aside. Lando pulled you against him, his warmth enveloping you. “Okay, I admit it,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “This wasn’t so bad.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I agree. Maybe we can keep this up a little longer, at least until we get better at cooking together.”

He chuckled, “So no kisses for the rest of the week?”

“Let’s see how we do,” you replied, your heart fluttering.

Lando paused, his expression turning serious as he looked into your eyes. “But you know, as much as I love our cooking time, I might just have to break that ban. Because even if we can’t kiss, I don’t think I can ever stop wanting to.”

And just like that, the air shifted. The warmth between you felt different now—full of unspoken promises and an electrifying tension that made your pulse quicken.

With a sly smile, he added, “And besides, we both know that one kiss is never enough.”

You laughed, your resolve crumbling as he pulled you closer, and despite the ban, you felt drawn to him.

You laugh, a nervous sound that betrays the flutter in your stomach. “No, Lando,” you tease, a hint of desperation in your tone. “You know the rules.”

He pouts dramatically, his bottom lip jutting out. “But rules are made to be broken, right?”

“Not these rules,” you reply, shaking your head, though your resolve is crumbling under the weight of his gaze.

The air was electric at the paddock, filled with the buzzing excitement of race day. You watched as cars sped around the track, the sound of engines roaring sending adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It was a familiar thrill, one that you had grown to love, but today your attention was focused on someone else entirely—Lando Norris, your boyfriend.

You felt a playful smile creep onto your lips as you caught sight of him in his racing gear, deep in conversation with Oscar Piastri. Lando had always been a charismatic figure, effortlessly charming those around him, but today he looked particularly grumpy.

His brow was furrowed, and every so often, he would steal a glance in your direction, his emerald green eyes narrowing as if he were assessing a challenge.

The ban on kissing had been Oscar's idea, a playful experiment to see how long you could go without stealing a kiss from each other. The previous night, you had both agreed to limit your displays of affection, only allowing cheek kisses.

But as the hours passed, you found yourself relishing in the way Lando's frustration grew with each passing moment. You couldn't help but tease him a little, especially since you had applied a fresh coat of cherry-red lip gloss before leaving your hotel room.

“Why do you keep putting that on?” he had grumbled earlier, eyes glued to your lips as you made a show of smoothing the glossy layer over your mouth.

“Just a little something to brighten my day,” you had replied, your smile as sweet as the gloss itself.

It was hard to suppress your laughter as you saw him trying to sneak in a kiss whenever he thought you were distracted. You caught him several times, his lips almost brushing against yours before you playfully swatted him away.

“Lando, no! You know the rules!” you giggled, feeling slightly bad for how much fun you were having at his expense.

Now, as you walked through the paddock, you could sense Lando's irritation radiating off him in waves. You caught Oscar giving Lando a concerned look, and it made you chuckle softly.

“Why is he mad all of a sudden?” Oscar asked, clearly confused, as Lando shot him a pointed glare.

“Oh, nothing,” you said innocently, crossing your arms and feigning ignorance. “He’s just mad that you suggested a kiss ban.”

Oscar blinked a few times, and then a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Serves him right for traumatizing me for so long,” he replied, clearly enjoying the banter.

Lando rolled his eyes dramatically, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward as if he were fighting a smile. “You guys are hilarious,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Really, I’m just having the time of my life.”

You felt a pang of guilt at his obvious frustration, but the way his eyes sparkled with annoyance made it hard to take him seriously. It was cute how he managed to look both adorable and sulky at the same time.

“C’mon, Lando! Lighten up! It’s just a kiss ban,” you teased, leaning closer, knowing full well how that would drive him even more wild. “You’re not really mad, are you?”

“Yes! I am!” he shot back, but the way his voice wavered made it evident that he was only half-serious.

“You know you love it,” you replied, your voice softening a little. “It’s like a game.”

“More like a punishment,” he huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest as if he were warding off a chill.

“Let me ask you this—what’s the worst that could happen?” you challenged, relishing the chance to push his buttons just a little more.

“The worst? I could explode from all the pent-up affection,” he shot back, his expression playful yet pained. “Or, I could just look at your lips all day and die of frustration!”

“Drama queen!” you laughed, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

Oscar, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, couldn’t help but chime in again. “So, you’re telling me that if I suggested a kiss ban for you two, Lando would actually listen?”

“Oh, he’s definitely listening,” you replied, suppressing another laugh as you saw Lando squirm.

He rolled his eyes dramatically but couldn’t hide the glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “A kiss ban? Really? What’s next, a no-hug policy?” His tone was light, but you could see that he was slightly intrigued.

“You know how competitive you can get,” you said, your tone playful yet sincere. “I thought it might be fun to see if you can keep your lips to yourself for an entire week.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said with mock seriousness, crossing his arms defiantly.

Oscar chuckled. “Good luck with that, Lando. I’ll be impressed if you manage it.”

“Please,” Lando retorted, feigning confidence. “I could go a month without kissing her if I wanted to.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. “Oh really? Is that a promise or a threat?”

He stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s just say it’s a motivational tactic. No kisses means more energy for the track. I’m going to be unbeatable.”

You pretended to think for a moment, placing a finger on your chin. “Or you could just use the energy you gain from kissing me. That might work too.”

Oscar, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, couldn’t help but chime in again. “I don’t know, it sounds like a pretty solid strategy, Lando. Maybe you should reconsider this kiss ban.”

“Please,” Lando replied, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m fine. I’m focused. Kisses are overrated.”

You smirked, enjoying the banter. “Sure they are. Keep telling yourself that.”

Just then, Lando's team principal called him into a meeting. He glanced back at you, a slight frown on his face. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go forgetting how much you’ll miss me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, trying to sound indifferent, though your heart raced.

As Lando walked away, Oscar turned to you, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re really going to keep him like this the whole week?”

“Absolutely,” you replied confidently. “Consider it an experiment.”

“I’ll be curious to see how it goes. You might just find out that he’s a lot more disciplined than he looks.”

“Right,” you said with a scoff, leaning against the wall. “He’s as disciplined as a puppy in a room full of chew toys.”

Oscar laughed, then said, “Well, I have to run. I’m meeting my girlfriend. Just try and keep him like this the whole week, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised, waving goodbye as he walked away.

With a determined grin, you headed back to the hospitality suite, a perfect plan forming in your mind. Lando was competitive, and if you challenged him like this, he would rise to the occasion.

By day three, it was a different story. The ban became a tangible presence in the room, and Lando was unmistakably more restless, his eyes often drifting to your lips.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his struggle, fully aware of how the ban was eating at him.

Lando lay sprawled on the couch, his head resting on your lap, looking up at you with those playful eyes that were now filled with a hint of desperation.

“You know, I could break the ban if you’re just addicted to kissing,” you said, running your fingers through his hair, relishing the way he sighed contentedly at your touch.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice low, eyes narrowing with playful determination. “Nope, I’ll win this challenge.”

“Are you sure? Because I feel like you’re going to kiss me now,” you teased, leaning in slightly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, your lips tantalizingly close.

Lando’s gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, and you could see the battle raging within him. “If you keep doing that, I might lose my mind,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

“Good! That’s the idea,” you said, biting your lip, thoroughly enjoying this little game.

“Seriously, though,” he said, sitting up and shifting closer, “you’re being cruel. I didn’t think you were capable of this level of torture.”

You laughed, a sound that echoed through the room, and you shifted away slightly, just to watch his expression shift from determination to pure yearning. “I’m just testing your willpower, my love. Think of it as a character-building exercise.”

“A character-building exercise? I’m going to come out of this a complete wreck,” he retorted, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch, trying to appear indifferent.

You smirked. “You have no idea how much fun I’m having right now.”

“Just wait until I find a way to get you to kiss me,” he said, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

“Oh, please. You think you can outsmart me?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Just watch me.”

And so the days rolled on. Each moment was a delightful mix of tension and playful banter. You found yourself glancing at Lando more often, his lips pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

You reveled in the way he tried to distract you, often resorting to exaggerated stories about his day or silly impressions that made you laugh until your sides hurt.

But all the while, his eyes would betray him, flickering down to your lips, his desire barely contained.

On the morning of the fourth day, the atmosphere had shifted. Lando entered the kitchen, his usual buoyancy replaced by a grumpy pout. “This ban is ridiculous,” he grumbled, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You looked up from your spot at the table, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle the heat?”

“I think I’m going to combust if I don’t kiss you soon,” he replied, his voice laced with frustration as he leaned against the counter, looking positively adorable in his grumpiness.

“Ah, but that’s the challenge, isn’t it?” you teased, savoring the power of the moment.

“Challenge or torture?” he shot back, running a hand through his messy hair. “Because I’m starting to think it’s the latter.”

“Keep it up, and you might get a reward,” you said, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Reward?” he echoed, his interest piqued. “What kind of reward?”

You stood up, moving closer to him, your heart racing as you sensed his breath hitch in response. “A kiss, of course,” you whispered, inching even closer.

He leaned in, eyes darkening with longing. “You’re such a tease,” he breathed, his lips almost brushing against yours.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, your pulse quickening as the distance between you closed. “But you love it.”

“I hate it,” he said, but you could see the cracks forming in his resolve. “Okay, I hate that I love it.”

And then he was right there, his lips hovering tantalizingly close, and you knew the kiss ban was on the verge of breaking.

“Just one little kiss,” he urged, his voice low and pleading, a hint of desperation coloring his tone.

You felt your resolve crumbling, but you couldn’t let him win so easily. “No, not yet,” you said, stepping back, savoring the way his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Why do you do this to me?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock frustration. “You’re driving me insane!”

You laughed, a melodic sound that echoed in the kitchen. “That’s the point, love. Remember, this is about restraint!”

With a dramatic sigh, Lando rolled his eyes, but you could see the challenge in his smile. “Fine. I’ll hold out. But you’d better prepare for the consequences of this little ban once it’s over.”

“Oh? And what are the consequences?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He stepped closer again, his gaze locked onto yours, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I’ll make you regret every single second you made me wait. Trust me; it’ll be worth it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the thrill of anticipation surge through you. “I’m looking forward to it,” you said, your heart racing.

The days stretched on, each filled with the electricity of desire, laughter, and playful banter, but also with the sweet ache of longing.

You knew that the end of the kiss ban was near, and the tension between you was growing thicker with each passing moment.

You had managed to keep it up for a week, but now, as the sun peeked through the clouds on race day, the ban was set to lift. You had concocted a plan to reward Lando after his race if he performed well.

Little did he know, it was the last day of the kiss ban, and you were ready to make it worth the wait.

The moment you stepped into the paddock, hand in hand with him, you felt a surge of excitement. Lando was starting in pole position today, and you could tell he was nervous.

He had that familiar furrow in his brow, his eyes darting around, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked when he was deep in thought.

“Don’t worry,” you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Just remember to breathe. And if you do really good, you might get something you’ve wanted,” you added, trying to keep your gaze forward as you teased him.

Lando stopped in his tracks, turning to you with wide eyes. “Really?” he muttered, disbelief lacing his voice.

You nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

As you walked into his garage, the tension was palpable. Lando’s team members were bustling about, making final adjustments to his car, while you took a moment to admire the way he carried himself, radiating determination and focus.

But you weren’t going to let him off easy. You had chosen a dress today that hugged your curves perfectly, knowing it would drive him wild.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the garage wall, your dress swirling around your legs. “You know, I’ve always thought pole position looked good on you.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, a hint of a smile breaking through his serious facade. “And I’ve always thought that dress looks even better on you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you playfully rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.”

“Come on!” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know I can’t resist a compliment.”

The race was getting closer, and Lando’s focus sharpened. You knew he needed to concentrate, but you couldn't help but want to poke a little fun at him.

Every time he leaned in to give you a kiss, you’d push him away playfully, teasingly. He’d groan in frustration, and the sound sent shivers down your spine.

“You know, if you want to kiss me, you could just ask,” you said, pretending to ponder deeply.

“I’m trying to be a good boyfriend here!” he huffed, running a hand through his hair, making it even more tousled. “But it’s hard when you keep pushing me away!”

“Maybe I like watching you squirm,” you teased, stepping closer just to see the way his eyes darkened with desire. “Aren’t you the one who said patience is a virtue?”

“Not when it comes to you!” he exclaimed, leaning in again, but this time you sidestepped him, letting out a laugh that echoed through the garage.

“Focus on the race!” you instructed, trying to catch your breath from giggling. “I want to see you win, remember?”

“Right,” he said, eyes narrowing playfully. “Just you wait. After I win this race, I’m going to claim that kiss whether you like it or not.”

You smirked, knowing that he was already thinking about the celebration. “Big talk for someone who still needs to get through the race. Now go on, do your thing!”

With that, Lando stepped into the car, the world around him fading as he prepared for the race. You took your position on the sidelines, heart racing as the engines roared to life.

You could see the determination etched on his face through the visor, and you couldn’t help but cheer him on, your heart swelling with pride.

As the race unfolded, every turn and pit stop was a thrill. Lando maneuvered through the track with skill, your voice mingling with the cheers of the crowd as you called out his name, urging him on.

Every lap that went by, you felt the tension build—not just for the race, but for what awaited you both afterward.

When the checkered flag waved, and Lando crossed the finish line first, a scream of excitement escaped your lips. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Lando’s team surrounded him in jubilation.

He climbed out of the car, his face flushed with adrenaline and happiness, but you noticed something else in his eyes—an eagerness that had been brewing all day.

He spotted you among the crowd and sprinted over, pulling you into a tight embrace, his excitement wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “I did it!” he exclaimed, breathless and grinning.

“I knew you could!” you cheered, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “You were amazing!”

“Now, about that reward…” he said, his voice low and teasing, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You laughed, a sound that mingled with the cheering crowd. “I suppose I owe you something for your incredible performance.”

His smile widened, and you could see the flicker of hope in his gaze. “So, are you saying the kiss ban is officially over?”

You nodded, feeling a wave of anticipation wash over you. The moment felt electric, charged with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

“Good, because I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he said, taking a step closer, the crowd fading into a blur around you.

With a teasing glint in his eye, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his. The kiss was intense and fiery, expressing raw desire and strong emotion, as if all the days of restraint melted away in that one shared moment.

When you pulled back, breathless, he grinned down at you, his gaze unwavering.

“There’s more where that came from,” he said, voice laced with a hint of playful challenge.

Before you could respond, he had to leave you to celebrate with his team, ready to bask in the glory of his victory. As he walked away, you could still feel the heat of his kiss lingering on your lips, a sweet reminder of the moment.

You watched him interact with his team, the way they lifted him in excitement, the way they all celebrated together.

You felt proud, not just of his victory on the track but of the man he was—the kind, passionate, and fiercely dedicated individual you had fallen for.

You lean against the wall of Lando's driver room, the scent of motor oil and sweat mingling in the air, a stark reminder of the adrenaline that pulsed through the circuit just hours earlier.

 You glance at your phone for the umpteenth time, the clock ticking slowly, each passing minute amplifying your anticipation and the thrill of waiting.

Finally, the door creaks open, and you straighten up, a smile breaking across your face. "Congratulations, champ!" you exclaim, clapping your hands together. The thrill of his victory races through you like the engines outside.

Lando steps in, still clad in his race suit, sweat glistening on his brow, his eyes bright with triumph. But instead of the celebratory embrace you expect, he surprises you by quietly locking the door behind him.

In an instant, he crosses the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours, hard and urgent.

Your breath hitches as you lean into him, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer against the wall. It feels like the entire world outside has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment, hearts pounding in sync.

But just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulls away, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “What if I want a kiss ban, love? I want to tease you too.” His grin is too wide, stupid and cocky and beautiful.

“Lando, please,” you beg, aware of how desperate your voice sounds. The kiss ban affects you as much as it affects him; you’ve tried not to show it, but the tension is electric, and every moment apart feels agonizing.

He laughs softly, a sound that resonates in the small room, yet his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Okay, okay.” He leans closer, brushing his lips against yours again, but stopping just short, leaving you longing for more.

“Stop teasing me!” you complain, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “I thought the kiss ban was supposed to be fun, but it’s just torture.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he counters, his voice low and playful. His fingers trail along your bare skin, igniting tiny sparks wherever they touch. You shiver at the contact, unable to suppress a soft moan.

“Lando,” you whine, your hands finding their way into his soft hair, pulling him closer as if that might close the distance between your lips.

His breath quickens, and you can see the effect you have on him—his eyes darkening, his focus entirely on you. “Okay, I’ll give you a little something,” he murmurs, lips nibbling at yours, teasing but never fully committing.

You can feel the weight of the moment building, an undeniable tension that thrums through you both.

“More, please,” you plead, leaning into him. “You can’t just do this and not follow through.”

He chuckles, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. “And what if I don’t want to? What if I want to see just how far I can push you?” His teasing words only heighten the desire coursing through you.

“Is that really what you want?” you ask, biting your lip. “To make me crazy?”

“Absolutely,” he says, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re far too serious sometimes. This is just a bit of fun, love.”

“Fun? This is more like torture,” you respond, rolling your eyes playfully but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips.

“Ah, but isn’t it thrilling? The way you’re practically trembling for me right now? I could get used to this,” he replies, leaning in just enough to brush his lips against yours once more.

Your heart races, and you let out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the touch. You want more—need more. “Lando,” you breathe, feeling utterly exposed yet exhilarated. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice a low whisper as he continues to tease you, brushing his lips against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw. “But you love it.”

“Maybe I do,” you admit, arching your neck, giving him more access as you melt against the wall. Your skin tingles where he touches you, and every brush of his lips sends shivers racing through you.

He pulls back slightly, his breath mingling with yours, and the moment feels electric. “I love how you crave me, how you can’t get enough,” he says, his gaze intense, searching yours for the truth in your confession.

“Lando…” you whisper, unable to contain the longing in your voice.

“Shh,” he hushes, finally closing the distance and kissing you deeply. The world melts away once more, and you lose yourself in the warmth and passion of his lips.

His hands move to your back, holding you tightly as you both surrender to the kiss, hearts racing, breath mingling, bodies pressing together in the warmth of the moment. . . .

[cjlouwho]

Fuck tommy, honestly. Shut up and let him fucking go!!

Is this a prompt? I'm using it as a prompt.

"Tommy. Tommy," Buck panted against Tommy's neck, Tommy's skin prickling up at the sensation. "You gotta... You gotta shut up."

Tommy whined, this one louder than the last, as Buck fucked into him. "Can't help it," he breathed out, gripping onto the metal shelving in front of him. "You feel- fuck- so fucking good, Evan."

Buck pressed a wet, open kiss against Tommy's shoulder. "They're gonna h- hear us. You gotta, oh shit, you gotta be quiet."

It was a lot, hearing Tommy like this. Usually, Buck was the vocal one. But now, after being apart less than two months, Tommy was a moaning, whimpering mess. It drove Buck crazy in the best way. And if they were anywhere else, he'd be telling- no, demanding- Tommy to be louder.

However, they were in the supply closet at the 118. Managed to sneak away at a New Year's party that Chimney had informed Tommy, "Buck will absolutely, positively not be at. Get dressed, get out of your house, and come!"

And well, Tommy was right near coming about now. Buck buried deep inside him, one hand wrapped around him, stroking his cock with a firm grip.

Twenty minutes ago, Buck was trying to think of the best way to manage a nonchalant hello to his ex-boyfriend.

Now all he could think was thank God the supply closet is always stocked with lube.

"I gotta, uh, uh, uh, Ev- Evan, I gotta..."

Buck reached up with his free hand and wrapped it around Tommy's tightly gripped fist, tapping until Tommy opened his hand and their fingers intertwined.

Buck kissed up Tommy's neck, stopping at his ear. "Let go," he whispered. He could feel Tommy shaking, knew he was close. "Come on, Baby, let go."

So Tommy did, loudly. A moan that, if Buck weren't two thrusts away from coming himself, he'd be hoping and praying the music was loud enough to cover it.

"Shit, shit, shit," he groaned, biting down onto Tommy's shoulder as he came deep inside him.

It took them both a minute to catch their breath, Tommy still holding onto the shelf, and Buck resting his sweaty forehead between Tommy's shoulder blades.

They stayed there for a while, just feeling one another breathe. Their heartbeats matching in a steady, strong rhythm.

Then Buck was slipping out, and Tommy was turning to face him. "Not how I expected tonight to go," he admitted.

Buck laughed, his head dropping down. "Yeah, uh, m- me either."

Tommy brought a hand up to Buck's chin, gently lifting his head back up so he could look him in the eyes. "Would you like to go back to my place? To talk?"

From outside the closet, they could hear the sound of men and women counting down to the new year. Five, four...

"Yeah," Buck answered with a nod. "Yeah, I- I would."

"Three, two...

"Tommy, will you-"

Tommy leaned forward, kissing Buck so chastely, so carefully, he almost forgot they were still half naked, with come and sweat all over their bodies.

One!

"Happy new year, Tommy," Buck whispered against Tommy's lips.

Tommy smiled. "Happy new year, Evan."

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

send requests ! <3

[daryltwdixon]

Know It's For the Better

Was listening to Phoebe Bridger's Waiting Room today and my heart hurt thinking of Daryl pining, longing, and angsty while critical of himself. Never letting himself have you.

There are moments when he thinks it’d be easier to walk away, to stop feeling like this, but the idea of losing even the smallest piece of you feels like a wound he’d never come back from.

The door swings shut behind Daryl with barely a sound—he’d oiled the hinges last week after they started squealing loud enough to wake the dead. Tonight, he steps out onto the porch, pausing when he catches sight of you sitting on the steps, your figure framed by the soft glow of moonlight.

For a second, he hesitates, unsure whether to join you or leave you to the quiet. But his feet don’t carry him back inside. Instead, he leans against the porch railing, his shoulders pressing into the rough wood, watching you from the shadows. He’s always been good at staying silent when he needs to, moving like a ghost, unnoticed until he wants to be seen.

You don’t look up, your attention on the blade of grass you’re twirling between your fingers. Your body is relaxed, at ease in the stillness of the night. There’s something easy about the way you sit there, your body relaxed, your hair catching the faint silver light of the moon. You look at home in this quiet, the same way you do when you’re laughing with the others or tearing through walkers like it’s second nature. He doesn’t know which version of you hits him harder—the one who smiles without hesitation, or the one who stares a little too long at nothing, lost in her own thoughts.

He likes both. That’s the problem.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching you at this point—too long, probably. Long enough that every inch of you is burned into his memory, like some kind of cruel brand he’s too far gone to scrape off. And not just tonight, in the moonlight that floods the neighborhood. But always. He's always watching you. He tells himself he’s just keeping watch, keeping you safe, and that is true... But there's more. He knows he'd be lying if he said that was all it was. When it comes to you, he can't stop...watching, looking--admiring.

You shift slightly, leaning back on your hands, your face turned up to the stars like you’re trying to soak them in. It’s so damn effortless—the way you exist, the way you look at the world like it might still have something left to offer you. He wonders what it feels like, that kind of quiet hope. Wonders what it would feel like if you ever looked at him that way.

He’s too old, too broken. Too rough around the edges to be anything you could want. Hell, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he had the chance. Wouldn’t know how to hold you let alone touch you. And definitely, most definitely, wouldn’t know how to tell you just how much space you’ve taken up in his head without scaring you off.

“Something on your mind?” you ask suddenly, not looking back. Your voice is light, teasing, like you already know the answer.

Shit, of course you knew he was there. It was hard to sneak around you, he should've known by now. Daryl clears his throat, pushing the words back down where they belong. “Nah,” he mutters, glancing at the dark horizon instead of you.

You hum softly, like you don’t believe him, and lean back on your hands. The way your shoulders tilt, your neck arching just slightly, still turned to him with your eyes closed, the curve of your cheek catching the moonlight.--it sends an ache through him. The urge to reach out...to feel, to caress, to just touch you.

He wonders if you can feel it too—that pull between you, like some invisible thread tying him to you no matter how far he tries to stay. He wonders if you’ve ever noticed the way his hands shake when you’re close, or the way he looks at you like you’re something he doesn’t know how to hold but can’t bring himself to let go of.

But he’d never tell you. Not ever. He’s too messed up, too worn down and rough from this world and the one before it. It’s better this way—better to stay at a distance, close enough to watch over you but far enough to keep from ruining whatever this is.

Know it’s for the better, he tells himself, over and over, the words circling his mind like a chant, praying one day he'd believe them.

It’s for the better—because you deserve someone who could give you more than silence and scars.

It’s for the better—because he doesn’t know how to hold you without feeling like his hands might break something delicate, like he’s never been made for soft things.

It’s for the better—because every part of him is rough-edged and jagged, and you? You’re all the things he’s spent his life convincing himself he doesn’t deserve.

It’s for the better—because letting himself think otherwise, even for a second, feels like the kind of hope that’d split him wide open.

“You ever think about it?” you ask, breaking his spiraling thoughts, your eyes on him. He's not sure how long since you opened them and had been staring at him, “What life would’ve been like if this hadn’t happened?”

It’s not a sad question, not the way you ask it. Just curious, like you’re thinking about what you’d do with a world full of empty possibilities.

Daryl shrugs, “Ain’t much to think about.”

The truth is, he doesn’t want to imagine what life would’ve been like if everything hadn’t gone to hell. Because then he wouldn’t have known you, wouldn’t have found you. And even if he can’t let himself have you, he can’t picture his life without you in it.

You stare up at the sky again then, “No dreams? No big plans?”

He huffs out a breath almost like a laugh, looking down at the worn wood under his boots. “Don’t think I’d be much different. Probably still out there somewhere, bein' a screw up.”

You don't laugh, don't reply right away, and yet when he looks up the look in your eyes still makes his skin rise with goosebumps.

“You really don't see how good you are, do you?” you say casually, like it’s a fact you’d bet your life on.

He freezes, his throat tightening, because how the hell are you supposed to say something like that and then just go back to looking at the stars like it didn’t knock the world off its axis? He shifts his weight, the words crawling up the back of his throat before he can stop them.

“You should get some rest,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he means for it to be. His fingers tighten around the edge of the railing like it might keep him steady.

Despite his dismissiveness, you don’t look away, and for a second, the world narrows to just the two of you, the soft rustle of the wind, the faint hum of crickets in the distance.

“You should too,” you say softly, finally standing and brushing the dust off your hands.

As you turn toward him, you hesitate, like you’re weighing something in your mind. Then you close the small distance between you, stepping up onto the porch until you’re standing in front of him.

Daryl straightens instinctively, unsure what you’re about to do, his hand still gripping the railing. You tilt your head, your gaze searching his face, and then your hand moves. Slowly, deliberately, you reach out and brush a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers lingering just a moment too long against his temple.

His breath hitches, and he feels rooted to the spot, like one wrong move might break whatever quiet spell you’ve cast.

"You didn't answer my question." you say softly, your voice steady but gentle.

He swallows hard, the words tangling in his throat. You’re looking at him expectantly but with a kindness so soft it hurts, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from leaning into your touch.

"I uh--" Daryl clears his throat, "I dunno,"

For a moment, your fingers linger on his face before you let your hand fall, the warmth of your touch still ghosting across his skin. You smile then, small and quiet, but it’s enough to make the knot in his chest loosen, just a little.

“Goodnight, Daryl.” you murmur, your voice soft as you step back.

But you don’t leave right away. Your eyes linger on his for a second longer, your expression open, unguarded, like you’re waiting for him to say something—do something.

He doesn’t. He can’t. It's for the better.

“Night,” he rasps finally, the word uneven and raw, but it’s enough to make you smile one last time before you turn and disappear inside.

Know it's for the better, he chants in his head again. But damn if it doesn’t feel like he’s been left out here with half of himself locked on the other side of that door.

[littlelamy]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙣

𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝐱 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞

The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the air conditioner as you smoothed your hands over the velvet fabric of your new costume. It was different—dark and sultry in a way that would leave the audience restless. The black sequins glimmered under the soft light, and the sheer panels revealed enough to tease while still leaving room for imagination. It was tailored to perfection, designed to make an impact.

But tonight, you didn’t care about the stage. Tonight, you wanted his opinion.

“Alright, Rafe. I need your input,” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room.

Rafe was sprawled on the couch like always, his phone in his hand, legs wide like he had all the time in the world. The moment he looked up, though, his entire body tensed. The phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate, darkening with every inch he took in. Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped toward him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t blink. It was like he was afraid to breathe.

You smirked, shifting your weight and letting your hip jut out just slightly. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”

Rafe exhaled a curse, low and breathless, raking a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“That’s not very constructive,” you teased, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on the sheer cutouts that framed your curves. “I’m serious, Rafe. I need feedback. I’m trying something... different.”

He laughed, but it came out hollow, almost strained. His knuckles were white where his hands gripped his knees, like he was physically holding himself back. “Feedback?” he repeated, his voice rough. “What the hell am I supposed to say? You want me to critique that?”

You bit back a grin, enjoying how unhinged he looked—his chest rising and falling just a little too fast, his eyes flicking between your face and the curves of your body like he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“Yes,” you said simply, stepping closer. The lights overhead hit the sequins just right, making the black fabric sparkle like a night sky. You stopped in front of him, close enough that you could smell his cologne and the faint lingering scent of cigarettes. “Be honest. Does it work?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, his gaze still glued to you as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. You recognized that look—it was the one he gave you when he was teetering between self-control and whatever darker urges were running through his mind.

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head with a low, humorless laugh. “It works. Jesus, it works,” he muttered, tilting his head to look up at you. “You’re gonna fucking kill someone wearing that.”

You smirked, tilting your head as you reached out and traced a finger along his shoulder. “That’s the idea.”

His eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous. His hands twitched against his knees like he wanted to grab you, but he stayed still, watching you with the kind of hunger that made heat pool low in your stomach.

“Rafe,” you teased softly, running your fingers down his arm, feeling the muscles flex under your touch. “Are you seriously going to sit there and act like this doesn’t do anything for you?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch. “You know what it does to me. You’re just trying to fuck with me now.”

You laughed softly, trailing your hand lower until it brushed against his wrist. “Maybe. But I still need more than ‘it’s hot as hell.’”

Before you could say anything else, his hands shot out, gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasped, your hands bracing against his chest as you found yourself straddling him. His fingers pressed into the velvet fabric of your costume, holding you in place as he looked up at you.

“You want my opinion?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Fine. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. And if you go on stage in this, you’re gonna make every guy in the room lose his goddamn mind.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his hands slid over your hips, slow and deliberate. “And you?” you asked softly, your voice quieter now. “Does it make you lose your mind?”

Rafe’s lips curled into a lazy smirk, but his eyes were still dark, his grip on your waist tightening. “You have no fucking idea.”

His hands moved lower, tracing the curves of your thighs where the costume ended. The heat of his touch burned through the fabric, and you shivered despite yourself. He noticed, of course—he always noticed—and his smirk widened.

“Rafe,” you murmured, trying to sound scolding, but it came out breathless instead.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as his fingers trailed upward again, dipping just beneath the edge of the sheer paneling. “You’re the one who asked for my input.”

“You’re not being very helpful.”

“I’m being honest,” he shot back, his voice dropping lower as his hands spread over your hips, pulling you down just a little harder against him. You felt the heat of him through his jeans, and the realization sent a flush creeping up your neck.

Your hands tightened against his chest as you tried to steady yourself. “I didn’t think you’d lose your composure this quickly.”

Rafe let out a low, almost mocking laugh. “Babe, you walked out here looking like a goddamn fantasy, and you expected me to sit there like nothing’s happening?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but his hands were on the back of your thighs now, sliding up and over the delicate fabric as he leaned closer. “If you’re gonna wear this for me,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you better be ready for what comes next.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly his lips were on yours—hard and demanding, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with just as much fervor.

He groaned softly against your lips, pulling you even closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you. You could feel him—all of him—and it sent a spark of heat straight through you.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you pulled back just enough to look at him. His pupils were blown, his breathing ragged as he stared up at you.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “You can’t show this to anyone else.”

You laughed softly, brushing your lips against his again. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it.” His hands tightened on your thighs as his gaze locked onto yours. “This is mine.”

Your stomach flipped at the possessiveness in his tone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.

Not when his lips were back on yours, and his hands were sliding over your body with a determination that left you breathless. This is where you belong.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

credits to @anitalenia for the divider <3

[hearts4johnwick]

・✫・゜・。. CHIHIRO

SUMMARY. kal has to do something neither of you agree on, but it’s what metropolis depends on.

WARNINGS. lex threatening you with a gun, “death”, pure pure angst.

PAIRING. superman x lex’s!sister reader

A/N. reader calls clark kal while he’s superman cause why are we out here revealing his identity out in public? (I’m looking at you lois). also, this is basically exactly what happens at the end of bvs, except it’s with david’s superman bc yes.

“lex.” you call for your older brother, but he doesn’t answer. “lex!” you call louder, still, nothing, he has his gun in his hand and is marching forward, with no plan to stop. “alex!” you shout this time which makes him halt almost immediately. “lex, please, don’t do this.” the sound of your heeled boots echo as you run toward him. “please, stop. take a look at yourself, you’re crazy! don’t do this, this is the people’s hero! our hero”

“you disappoint me, sis.” he sneers as he looks at the ground, your grip on his shoulder is strong. “he’s your hero. not the people’s, not mine. he disgusts me.” he tries to continue walking, but you stand in his way.

“lex, stop! dad wouldn’t want this!” this triggers something in your brother, you know it, you close your eyes, prepared for what’s about to come. you just waved the red cape at the charging bull. your psychotic brother with a gun. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry lex.”

“dad’s not here.” he looked at you, your eyes were closed but he noticed a tear that fell the second your grip on him loosened. “and since when do you know what dad would want? he wasn’t there for you, he never was! stop acting like he was! stop acting like a child! this is the real world! wake up, this is not science fiction or fantasy, he ends today!” he yells at you, you catch your breath once he threatens to end superman. you have to do something to stop him, anything.

“no!” you kick the gun away from his hand, your heels scratching his hand which now has him bleeding. “you can’t!” he raises an eyebrow, demanding a reason. “it’s not like that’s going to do anything either.” he rolls his eyes, a soft chuckle coming from his mouth.

“did you think i was dumb enough to fill that gun with bullets of lead?” he grabs the gun from the floor and releases the magazine. your eyes widen as you see the shining green element. “pure kryptonite.” He smirks as he puts it back and cocks it.

“where the hell did you even get that?” you question.

“i know a guy.” he smiles. you shake your head.

silence engulfs you both, you sniffle a bit and hold back tears, your brother smacks his lips and continues walking. until you decide to break that silence and make him pause.

“give it a rest, lex.” you risk playing with fire. he halts. “give it a rest now, before he throws you in arkham, where you’re supposed to be, or worse. you’ll never be like him, you’ll never be bett—“. it’s almost in a second when he turns, pushes you against the glass wall behind you, and grabs your face with a brute strength, you feel something cold press on your lower abdomen, your eyes widen, and then you shut them completely once you realize what it is.

“i dare you to repeat that. and here’s a side note, this isn’t the same one.” you desperately look around the dark hallways to see if someone is near, panic runs through your whole body as your body presses the gun further into your stomach. “say it.”

your face hardens, and you catch a breath, possibly your last one. “i said, you’ll never be like him.” your eyes lock with his, your confidence makes him nod and he surprisingly backs away. you hold your aching face and stay close to the wall, your brother laughs and sniffs harshfully, rubbing his nose, the gun still tight in his grasp.

“you’re right. i’ll never be like him, not until he’s gone, and the first step to doing that? taking away what defines him.” there it is, that flash, that loud bang, you flinch and close your eyes.

when you opened them, you expected to see the clouds in heaven, or your home back in Wyoming in the afterlife, but, no, you’re on the balcony of your apartment, the wind blows your hair peacefully, and there are other buildings in your sight, you hear honking, voices, in the very distance you can hear the monster causing destruction, but, of course, you have in sight your hero.

“kal…” you embrace him almost immediately, and you feel his arms around you too. “oh my God, he was about to shoot me wasn’t he?” you lock eyes with your love, placing your hand on the crest of his blue suit.

“he pulled the trigger, thankfully, i was there at the perfect timing.” he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and cups your cheeks, caressing your skin with his thumb.

“a little bit before could’ve been better too.” you scrunch your nose and he chuckles softly.

“i was a little busy.” you raise an eyebrow and cross your arms.

“never busy enough for the woman you love.” he laughs, you smile.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” you shake your head, showing him there’s no need for an apology, you were joking.

“thank you for saving my life.” your eyes sparkle as you look at his, which also twinkle, you love that about his eyes, the fact that they twinkle even when the smallest amount of light shines. “i love you.” your face softens, you hold back tears. kal leans in, softly, so softly pressing his lips with yours, and you return the kiss, the kiss was quick, but, any kiss with the man you love is perfect and worth it.

“y/n.” he pulls back, you look at him, searching for eye contact, but his eyes are still shut. your heart races, this can’t be good. when his eyes open and connect with yours, they’re watery, red, glossy. “there’s something I have to do.”

you quickly know what he means. but, you’re stubborn, and he knows that, so you’re not going down without a fight, you’re not letting him go that easily.

“no. no you don’t.” you shake your head, kal’s eyes shut once again, and he nods. “no. that’s why you have your super-friends. Guy? shiera?” you bite your lip, fighting your tears, practically going to war. he shakes his head. “yes, yes, kal—kara, kara, can do it.” you pat his chest and walk away. he grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, his hand gripping your hips.

“y/n. it’s me, i’m the one that has to do it.” you begin to get angry, he doesn’t understand, he’s all you have. he sees your heart race, and not in a good way. “y/n, please. listen to me. i can’t do this to Guy, he can’t handle it, and neither can shiera, plus she’s a child, and so is kara!” his voice raises, but it’s barely. tears roll down your face, you can’t bare to look at him. “it has to be me.” he places a kiss on your lips. when you don’t kiss him back, he feels tremendous guilt, he hates seeing you like this. “don’t make me leave like this.” more tears escape your eyes as you open them, your eyes connect, and so do your lips, you do it this time, you get on your tip-toes and press your lips to his, your hands are on the back of his head, playing with his hair.

kal wipes away tears as he deepens the kiss, bringing you closer than you already were to him. a sob comes out of your mouth the second you pull away to readjust your head, but you try to hide it away by attaching your lips once again. kal doesn’t pull away, and you don’t want him to, you don’t want to pull away either, but, you do, just to get one last word. “i can’t lose you. you’re all i have.” his bloodshot eyes which are drowning in tears look at yours, which are in the same state. “kal… please. stay.” he places another strand of hair behind your ear before pecking your lips.

he grabs your hand, and that sentence makes your heart skip a beat, you sniffle hard, searching for air. his touch makes you look at him, and you begin to admire him. the tears that have fallen on his face make you cup his cheeks, wiping them away. “you’re all i have, kal.” you sob, shaking your head. “don’t do this to us.” you whisper, so softly that you’re not even sure his super-hearing allowed him to hear that. you see your reflection in his eyes, you close them once again and let go of his cheeks. kal grabs your wrists and places them around his neck, he bends down to kiss you.

this kiss was perfect, it was soft, yet intense, slow, and passionate, it felt like you were the only two people in the world, it was quiet and peaceful, it was like the monster that was destroying the streets of Metropolis and the battle cries of kal’s super-friends weren’t there anymore like they were never there. you wish this moment would last forever.

the kiss deepens, and kal swears that if he didn’t have to do what he had to, it would turn into something else. you feel his lip tremble as the two of you pull away. you rest your foreheads on one another and let out a deep exhale. you and kal share a look. “you’re everything to me. you are what defines me, and i swear to you, all i want, is an eternity with you. i hope we can have that.” you nod, sobs are all that come out of you as he says those words.

he kisses you, one. last. time. kal feels forced to pull away, once you feel your lips are lonely, your mouth begins to tremble, you don’t open your eyes until the touch of his fingers leaves yours, and even when they do, you deny to open them.

“kal!” you call out his name, and just as you feared, he isn’t there anymore. you gasp softly, you sit down on the chairs you have displayed outside on your balcony, and sob your heart out. hoping that your cries would somehow bring him back.

the sky lit up, your hands covered your mouth as you realized what had happened, you felt as if your heart stopped, you couldn’t believe it, yes, he was practically indestructible, you knew that, he made sure you knew that, even though you tried so hard not to think it, you couldn’t bear to think that you lost him. a nuke? no one could survive that. not even him, he couldn’t. you thought.

you have had enough, you don’t even think you had enough tears to keep crying over him, but, you did, and that managed to put you to sleep well, so well, you fell asleep in the swing you had in your balcony. but, when you woke up you weren’t in the swing anymore, you were back in your bed. you had no idea how.

except you do, you had one idea.

❛and you don’t know if you’ll make it back. i say no, don’t say that.❜

[prettypinkporkchop]

Can you do a Plus!Size!Reader x Paul Lahote?

I’m thinking, reader who is Bella’s sister, has been friends with Jacob for years (stayed with Charlie) and she’s always had this massive crush on Paul. Since she is insecure about her weight/ looks, she always avoided Paul at all costs, embarrassing herself too.

One day, she gets dragged by Bella when Bella is mad Jacob. This is where Bella slaps Paul across the face. The reader stays in the truck but when this happens, she gets out of the truck to stop Bella. Paul phases which scares Bella and Reader but he then imprints on reader.

For a while their relationship is just friends (per readers request) until Paul kinda snaps in frustration because he wants to be more and he knows reader wants it too. Lots of fluff and reassurance that the reader is worthy enough for Paul.

Thank you so much, your writing is just amazing and I think you would write this really well ❤️

You're More Than Your Body

A/n: my thick queens!!! I know for a fact that Paul would be obsessed with them thighs! Oh lawd I can see it already!!! BTW I FREAKING LOVE THIS STORY I AM SO BOOSTING MY EGO BC I DID SO GOOD IN THIS! PLZ, I LOVE IT!

Warning: bad language

Paul. Paul. Paul. Nobody runs through your head like Paul. Even now that you're graduated and so is he, you see him around town. Especially since you and Bella are close with Jacob.

You stare in the body mirror in your bedroom, grabbing your stomach in hopes it'll disappear. It would make this outfit look so much better... your heart pounds as tears want to explode from your eyes. The pain of being the "funny fat friend" and always being the butt end of the joke your whole life has really been weighing on you. Even now, as an adult and being stuck on a guy since school.

"I need you to come with me. This is serious." Bella barges in your room.

"Oh, so the sad girl speaks to me now?" You glare at her.

"Look, I'm sorry for ignoring you and charl-.. dad, it's just been.." She stops knowing that you know what she means.

"Edward. Yeah." You roll your eyes and then smile at her. "Okay, what you got?" You ask.

"Jake has been away. They're saying he's sick. I have to see him." She says.

"He's probably tired of you stringing him along." You reply.

She shakes her head and then walks over to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down the stairs.

"Uh! Hey! Stop!" You yell.

"I don't want to go alone." She looks at you, still holding your wrist.

"Fine." You sigh.

You both get in her raggedy truck. She speeds up to Billy's house. The car ride was mostly her panicking, and you telling her to slow the Frick down. But, she pulls in with both of you alive. She gets out of the truck and enters past Billy. He sees you sitting in the truck, and you awkwardly wave.

The sound of whistles is heard toward the trees next to the house. You look over and see Jared, Paul, Sam, and Embry. Your heart races as your eyes fixate on Paul. They don't see you. It seems like they're calling for Jacob.

Bella barges out and goes over to them. Your mind blanks out with what is happening. You notice they're yelling and Paul is getting angry. You decide to be the protective older sister and run out of the truck.

"Bella!" You yell and make your way over there. As you get closer, she slaps him. "BELLA WHAT THE HELL?!" You grab her arm.

Paul is snarling. His body seems to get bigger. Next thing you know, he's a wolf. A silver wolf growling at Bella. She falls on the ground, and you stare at the monster. He looks at you and stops snarling. He whimpers.

"BELLA!" Jacob runs out and turns into a wolf, too.

This caught Paul's attention, and they began to fight, wrestling into the woods. You're breathing heavy in fear, but look down at Bella. She's confused and looking at Sam.

"Hey, bring these girls to Emily's place." Sam orders.

"Guess the wolf's out of the bag." Embry mumbles.

That's when you learn everything. Emily and Bella go on a tangent about it all. Embry is cracking jokes, and Jared is kicking him under the table for spilling too much to a 'leech lover'.

Paul walks inside and sits on the chair beside you. He turns back to Bella. "Sorry." He smirks and eats the muffins that are placed on the table. His eyes roam up and meet yours.

You pause. Is he really looking at you?

He sets the muffin down before rubbing his hands on his shorts. He extends a hand and smiles at you. "Paul." He says.

"Yeah, I know." You smile and shakily let your hand reach his. You feel warmth fill up your body. You know your cheeks are burning red.

His smile fades, and he lets go of your hand. "You know me?" He asks, as if he's guilty for not knowing you.

"Yeah. School. We graduated the same year and... you were quite popular with the girls." You snort.

He gulps and looks down. "Yes. Yes, I was." He seems so guilty. But his face turns back to you with a smile. "What's your name?" He asks.

You go to speak but Embry interrupts. "That's y/n. Leech lover's sister." He laughs.

Paul glares at him. "I'd like for her to answer that herself."

Embry lifts his hands up in defense. "Aight, chief. Or should I say.... imprinter..." He snorts.

Jared hits the back of his head. "Bro! That's Paul's story to tell!" He yells.

Sam enters and glares at Embry. "Stop it." He turns to Paul and smiles. "Welcome to the club." He takes Emily by the waist and kisses her.

"What's an imprinter? I'm confused.." You smile and look around awkwardly.

---

"Friends?" You smile at him.

He stares out at the beach, the waves crashing, and the wind blowing. "Yes. I'm sorry for not noticing you. I'm sorry for everything." He turns to face you. "Friends." He smiles.

You sigh of relief and look out at the water. You want more but you're too big for him in your mind. You accepted the bond, but maybe friends will do. At least you'll be around him, and it won't be so bad.

"C'mon. Let's go get food." He stands up and takes out a hand for you.

Yes. You've barely eaten today, and it's four pm. You take his hand, and he helps you stand up. When you're on your feet, he grabs your waist to steady you. That touch has you SPINNING.

"Where do you want to go?" He asks.

"Hm, I'm totally feeling burgers." You giggle.

"Oh, fuck yeah! My kind of girl!" He yells and takes your hand, kissing your knuckles.

He leads you to his truck and takes you to a small diner. It's actually the one you, dad, and Bella used to go to growing up. Now that she's back, the trips here have been more frequent.

He opens your door and helps you out by holding your waist. He seems to love grabbing you there. Honestly, you don't mind, but at the same time, them love handles are ugly to you. He leads you inside and you both get a seat and order.

Paul looks over your face.

You awkwardly look around and smile while blushing. "What?" You ask.

"Nothing." He chuckles and sips his Dr. Pepper. "What's it like being Bella's sister?" He asks.

"Nothing but drama. But I love her. She's very giving to family." You smile.

He nods. "I don't have anyone but my asshole father. I don't live with him, thank God." He rolls his eyes.

Your heart aches for him. You can't imagine not having anyone. "I'm so sorry." You reach out and touch his hand.

His eyes dart toward your contact, and he smiles. "Nah, it's no big deal. I have my boys."

"I guess that makes things better." You smile and let his hand go.

The waitress places your guys' food down, and you both enjoy the night getting to know each other.

It's dark out now, and you're in his truck watching the roads as he brings you home. You're startled when you feel a hand on your thigh. You look down and see his fingers on your flesh. His thumb is rubbing your skin. You look over at his face. He's just watching the road.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Paul is at your window. You know it's him because he HAS to show up every night after patrol. You get up from the bed and open your window. He climbs up and closes it behind him. He hovers over you with a smile.

"Hey." He whispers, pushing hair behind your ear.

"Hey." You blush and soak in the warmth of his body heat.

He slowly leans in, looking in your eyes and then to your lips. No. No. You're too ugly. He's just into you because of the bond. Shit! You don't want to be used. You back away and awkwardly laugh. He gets the message and looks at you.

"Wanna see what I've been watching?" You plop on your bed and pull out your phone.

He smiles and lays beside you.

You show him the YouTube videos you've been addicted to until you fall asleep.

---

You're eating the brownies that Emily made while sitting at the bonfire. Everyone is talking and you're stuck in a debate with Sam.

"No! You're wrong!" He smiles, pointing at you.

You laugh and put your plate on the ground to get focused. "Sam, listen! I'm telling you, the grass is wet in the morning because of the dew!" You yell.

"It's because of the rain!" He yells back.

"Aren't you out all night? On the nights it doesn't rain, why is the grass wet then?!" You're laughing so hard.

Paul, from beside you, gently touches your knee. "He thinks he's always right. You won't win." He laughs in your ear.

"Love birds." Jared smirks.

You look at him. "No, we're just friends." You smile.

"Still?!" Jared asks, shocked. "Damn, Paul! You're taking your time." He laughs.

"Dude.." Paul shakes his head in annoyance.

After the bonfire, Paul brings you to his house. You're super freaking tired, and you fall on one couch in exhaustion. Paul puts a blanket over you and sits on the other couch that's next to your head. The couches are in an 'L' shape. He sits there while you fall asleep. Your arm falls out, and he looks down at your hand. He slowly takes it, holding onto it while you sleep.

---

You wake up and feel a body underneath you. You look down to see that you're on a snoring Paul's chest. You look around and see that you're in his living room. You panic and sit up, going onto the other couch. Your movements wake him up.

"You alright?" He asks in a tired and low voice.

"I.. don't remember falling asleep." You awkwardly giggle.

"You were shivering, so I joined you." He yawns and sits up. "Was that alright?" He asks worriedly.

"Yeah.. yeah, that's okay. Thank you." You smile.

He smiles back and checks his phone. "What you want for breakfast?"

"How about I make something here? If you have anything." You stand up and walk to his kitchen.

"Yeah, I've got stuff. You sure you want to cook? I can do it." He stands up and leans on his fridge, watching you.

"Yeah, no! I've got it." You smile.

He smirks and walks up to you, grabbing your waist. "You're beautiful." He whispers.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You look up in his eyes. "Friends.." You whisper.

He sighs and lets you go. "You know, I can't with you. You hold back so much and you won't let me in." He says in frustration.

You put the stuff on the counter and look at him with worry.

"I want you and I know.. I KNOW you want me, too. Why can't I have you?!" He smiles but is still aggravated.

You gulp and cross your arms. "I'm not good enough for you. All through school, you wanted the skinny girls. You only want me because you imprinted on me." You say quietly.

He starts laughing with anger. "Are you serious?!"

Tears threaten to escape your eyes. He notices and frowns. He pulls you into him and rubs your back. "Nobody will ever compare to you. You're more than your body. And if I didn't imprint on you, I would still think you're fucking hot." He says. "Let me prove it." He pulls away and looks at you.

You smile, hopeful, and touch his cheek. "You mean that?" You ask.

He grabs your waist and picks you up effortlessly. He tosses you on the couch while you giggle. He hovers over you and touches your stomach. "I love this." He smiles. His hand lowers to your outer thigh, and he squeezes. "I love this." He continues to squeeze your thigh. "Oh, the way these will be my pillows." He chuckles. "I love..."His hand moves lower, "may I?" He wants to touch your ass. You nod, and he happily grabs your ass. "Jesus, I love this." He bites his lip and looks over your face. "Most importantly," his hand touches your chest where your heart is rapidly beating, "I love this." He says. "You're absolutely stunning." His eyes scan your features. "I'd show you off to the universe."

You're smiling, blushing, shedding tears, and lowkey screaming inside. Your heart is swollen with love and affection. You never want this to end. Now, you understand, you are perfect for him. You grab the back of his neck and pull him down to your lips.

His lips meet yours, and the kiss is gentle and loving. Your lips move perfectly, and he finally pulls away. "What an amazing kisser." He smirks. "Mine, now?" He asks.

You laugh and nod your head wiping away your tears. "Yes, Paul. I'm yours, now."

[https-lvesick]

ㅤㅤ( 이동혁 ) — blurb #1

scenario . . ♡ your husband comes home overwhelmed and just needs your embrace.

content . . 𝜗𝜚 husband!haechan x fem!reader, domesticity, slight angst, haechan sucks your boobs, but it's in a non sexual manner.

you were sprawled on the bed, scrolling aimlessly through social media, waiting for your husband. haechan had promised he’d be home early, but now it was well past late. you’d made dinner, hoping to eat with him, but the table stayed untouched. your messages went unanswered, and every call you made went straight to voicemail. frustration bubbled in your chest — it wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but you couldn’t stop the worry from creeping in.

with a sigh, you exited the app and prepared to call him again. before you could, the sound of the front door closing caught your attention. you set your phone aside and started to get up, only to see haechan appear in the doorway. his face was drawn with exhaustion, his usual spark dimmed.

without a word, he crossed the room and collapsed onto you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body and burying his face in your chest — his favourite place to find solace. you knew better than to ask questions when he was like this. haechan didn’t need words; he needed comfort, to feel your presence, to know you were there for him.

your fingers found their way into his hair, gently carding through the strands, while your other hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. you did everything you could to calm him, but it didn’t seem to work. the damp warmth of his tears soaking into your shirt told you just how much he was holding in.

his quiet sobs tugged painfully at your heart. you knew how overwhelmed he was, constantly overworked and carrying too much weight on his shoulders. even when he came home, his thoughts refused to give him peace. it was breaking him — and it broke you to see the love of your life suffering like this.

“love…” you began softly, inhaling the familiar scent of his shampoo as you lowered your head to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. he hummed in response, too drained to form words. “do you wanna shower? we can shower together, hmm? then we’ll have dinner, and i’ll give you a massage after,” you offered, placing another tender kiss on his forehead when he lifted his head to meet your gaze.

his big, rounded eyes, once so full of light and mischief, now carried a weight that broke your heart. sadness and regret clouded them as he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head and sinking back into your embrace. “just wanna stay here…” haechan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a sniffle punctuating his words.

“that’s okay, baby,” you assured him, your hands resuming their soothing strokes along his body. his voice, so small and broken, was almost too much to bear. his job was draining the life out of him, and you felt powerless to stop it.

you missed your sweet, energetic haechan — the one who would tease and pester you endlessly until he got his way. you longed for your joyful, playful bear, the one who could light up a room with his laughter. and as you held him close, you silently vowed to do whatever it took to help him find his way back.

you felt his hand slip under your shirt, his warm touch instantly soothing you. as his fingers brushed your skin, a calmness washed over you both. he gently lifted your shirt, and soon, his mouth found its way to your breast. this had always been his comfort, the one thing that calmed him the most. and you never denied him that solace — not when he needed it this much.

you sighed, longing for the day this would all come to an end, silently wishing for your husband to find his spark again and bring it back into your lives.

masterlist + lola's notes .: i guess i'm going through something guys...

taglist ♡ @jungaji @spacejip

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Part 12

"Couldn’t stay away"

You chose your husband

Returning to your husband felt like stepping back into a familiar yet fractured world. The house looked the same, the routines unchanged, but everything between you had shifted. The man who once felt like your safe harbor now seemed like someone you had to learn all over again.

The first few weeks were heavy with tension. He tried—tried to act normal, to be the man you’d fallen in love with all those years ago—but the cracks showed. He watched you closely, as if afraid you might vanish again. Every phone buzz or late evening at work made him flinch.

“I want to make this work,” he said one night as you sat together on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. “But I need to know you’re here with me—not just physically, but emotionally.”

“I am,” you said, though the words felt hollow. You wanted them to be true, desperately. He was a good man, and you owed him honesty and effort. But a part of you—deep, buried—still longed for the man who had consumed your thoughts since the day you met him.

~~~

Ghost

Miles away, Ghost sat on the edge of a worn cot in an unfamiliar safe house, the note you’d left trembling in his gloved hand. He read it over and over, the words cutting deeper each time.

*"I love you, but I can’t stay. I need a life with certainty, and as much as I want you, I can’t bear the thought of losing myself in the shadows."*

His jaw clenched, and he crumpled the note in his fist before tossing it onto the floor. Anger surged through him—not at you, but at himself. He’d let you slip through his fingers, let his fears and doubts push you away.

“Fucking coward,” he muttered to himself, running a hand down his mask.

But beneath the anger was a pain he couldn’t shake. He knew your decision wasn’t made lightly, and as much as it tore him apart, he respected it. That didn’t mean he could forget you, though. Not even close.

~~~

Months went by. You poured yourself into rebuilding your marriage, trying to rekindle what you’d once had. There were good days—moments where laughter came easily, where you felt like the couple you used to be. But there were also bad days—days where the silence between you was suffocating, where your thoughts drifted to Ghost despite your best efforts.

And then there were the messages. Short, infrequent, but enough to keep the connection alive. You and Ghost never talked about anything too personal, never crossed a line. But every time your phone buzzed and you saw his name, your heart skipped a beat.

Ghost: *You doing okay?*

You: *Yeah. Just busy with work. You?*

Ghost: *Still breathing.*

You: *Be careful out there.*

Ghost: *Always.*

You told yourself it was harmless—just two people checking in. But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

~~~

It was a typical day at the hospital. You were finishing up paperwork when your friend from the emergency room called you down for a quick coffee break.

As you walked into the ER, the hustle and bustle of patients and staff surrounded you. You were halfway to the break room when you felt it—a presence. You turned your head, and there he was.

Ghost stood near the entrance, his imposing figure unmistakable even in the chaos. He wasn’t in tactical gear this time, just dark jeans and a hoodie, but the mask was still there, his eyes scanning the room until they locked on yours.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

“What are you doing here?” you managed to whisper when he approached, his sheer presence making your knees weak.

“Had some time,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Thought I’d check in.”

Your mind raced. You shouldn’t be happy to see him—not here, not now. But you were. God, you were.

“I’m working,” you said, glancing nervously around.

“I’ll wait,” he replied, his tone calm but resolute. “Outside.”

And with that, he turned and walked toward the exit, leaving you to wrestle with the storm of emotions his presence had stirred.

~~~

As you left the hospital that evening, the weight of the day—and of seeing him—pressed heavily on you. Your eyes scanned the parking lot, and there he was, leaning casually against a lamppost in the shadows.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said as you approached, your voice a mix of frustration and longing.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his eyes locked on yours. “I had to see you. Make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you said, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Are you?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t. The truth was too complicated, too raw.

“I don’t want to mess up your life,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I can’t pretend I don’t care. I’m here if you need me. Always.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The pull between you was undeniable, and you knew this wasn’t the end.

Part 13

[littlemissaddict]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

It takes her longer to realise than it should have but in the heat of the fight she was more focused on her own survival than where the rest of the team was. Or more precisely, Simon.

A shot rings out behind her as the man with the knife aimed at her crumbles to the floor with a thud. She turns to find the source of the shot to see soap standing not six feet from her, motioning for her to follow. She figures the areas clear, and that's their cue to head out. Only Simon was there with them, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

She's about to stop Soap from going any further when she sees him still. She assumes that he's realised what she had but then she follows his gaze, heart stopping when she sees the crumpled figure on the floor. Without a second thought she rushes over to him.

"Ghost! Simon!" She pleads, laying a gentle hand on his arm, relaxing slightly when she feels him stir. "We gotta get him out of here!" She whirls round to Soap, not realising he's already at her side.

"Ya got 'im?" Soap asks her, after helping get Simon to his feet. It's almost comical, Simon's large form slumped against her, a large arm slung around her neck which grips with one hand while the other finds its way around his back, gripping onto his tactical vest to secure her hold on him.

"Think so, now clear the way" she nods as she and Simon stumble after Soap.

The adrenaline fueling her lasts until they get back to the chopper, thankful for the help of hauling him on board before she's slumping next to him. Her head dropping onto his shoulder, "Thanks love" he grumbled, the only thing he'd said since they'd found him.

"You scared me Si, just stay alive until we get home at least" she sighs, exhausted.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

It was a rare occasion that Johnny got so drunk that he could barely stand. In fact in all the time she'd know Johnny there was only the once that she could remember it happening, a visit back home to see his family had ended with him and all his cousins half comatose on the floor after a someone had bet they could drink more than the rest. Unsurprisingly, Johnny didn't remember that night just the hangover the following day.

"Aye, ken 'ave 'nother" he slurred as Price stood up offering to get the next round in, she noticed he was a little unstable to his feet too but nowhere near Johnny.

"I think you've had enough" she placed her hand on Johnny's arm as he turned his head, his unfocused gaze landing upon her, ready to deny her words.

Ghost, who she'd barely heard speak all night cut Johnny off before he could speak. "Ya birds righ' mate" he spoke before draining the rest of his whiskey from the glass.

"Guess we should all call it night then, huh?" Prices asks, ever the sensible one as he starts ushering his boys from their seats, the offer of the next round forgotten.

She expects Johnny to be unsteady on his feet as soon as he stands, so she wraps an arm around his middle, leaning in closer under the pretence that she wants to be close. Johnny's a stubborn one, and if he realised she was only doing it to keep him upright then he wouldn't be happy.

He stumbles on the way out of the bar almost falling and taking her down with him but luckily Gaz is there to catch the both of them. "Do ya want any help getting him in the car?" He offers.

She shakes her head in response, "Thanks, I should be fine. We're only over there." she waves her hand in the general direction of the car, thanking him again with a smile as the rest of the team say their goodbyes for the night.

"C'mon Johnny let's get you home" she mumbles, half dragging, half guiding him towards the car. Letting him lean against it as she pats his pockets down to check for his car keys.

"Gettin' handsy there bonnie" he smirks as he reaches sloppily for her chest.

She bats his hands away with a laugh, "Get your mind outta the gutter, I'm just getting the keys" she says finally fishing them out of his pocket.

"'Ve got it," he says, determinedly reaching for the keys, but the alcohol has slowed his movements, and she easily pulls them out of his reach.

"I love you Johnny but if you think I'm going to let you drive right now your crazy" she deadpans as he frowns in response, trying once again to unsuccessfully grab the car keys. "C'mon in the car you go" she says opening the door and guiding a sulking Johnny into the passenger seat. Once she's sure he's buckled in properly she leaves him with a kiss on the cheek before shutting the door and heading around to the drivers side already mentally preparing to deal with a hung over Johnny tomorrow.

[em-prentiss]

love to keep me warm

----

“I’m in my pajamas,” Emily mumbles, teary-eyed.

Aaron looks up. His mouth opens, no doubt to console, but Jack beats him to it.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Emily looks up to find his eyes wide and earnest. “Me and Dad are in our pj’s too. We won’t change, right?”

She never imagined she’d cry before even stepping foot in the damn hospital.

Or, Emily goes into labor on Christmas Eve.

Word count: 3.6k

For @leavemurph <3 because she's the best <3

----

“Is it a Nintendo?” Jack interrupts through Home Alone 2.

Emily is watching the movie with blank eyes, the fist she has clutched in her pajama pants doing nothing to help her through her contractions. They’ve become more frequent in the past few weeks, unexpectedly rolling through her as her due date looms closer; January 9th seems far to her, but apparently her body thinks it’s tomorrow. Her back has already been aching for a week, and the increasingly intense contractions aren’t helping any. They went from uncomfortable cramps to sharp pain just over the course of this afternoon, fiery stabs suddenly attacking her abdomen. Still, Emily waves them away. A nagging voice whispers in her ear, but she ignores it. Because it couldn’t be. Not yet.

She’s breathing through the pain, lips parted, when Jack touches her shoulder.

“Mom.”

Emily jolts.

“Sorry, honey.” She sucks in a breath, blinking the haziness from her eyes and turning to look at him. “Were you saying something?”

“My present,” he catches her up, hazel eyes bright, “is it a Nintendo? The 3DS—”

A small laugh worms its way out of her chest. “You’ll know tomorrow.” Fondness seeps through her words, drenching them until they’re dripping saccharine. “It’s just a few hours away, Jack. Wouldn’t it be better if it stayed a surprise?”

Jack’s pout is half hearted. “Will you tell if I get you another cookie?” He bribes. It seems a dangerous skill for a ten-year-old.

“Not even if you got me all the cookies in the world.” Emily ruffles his hair, earning a grumble. Speaking of cookies—“Can you help me up, please?”

He’s up and in front of her in seconds. Emily smiles as she takes his hands, both of them a little cold despite the steady fire burning in the hearth. The moment she stands the pressure returns on her hips, Lucy weighing on her bones as she wriggles around restlessly. 

“Thank you, honey,” Emily presses a kiss to Jack’s brow.

He hums, eyes already back on the TV. “Y’welcome. Tell Dad he’s missing the good parts.”

Emily manages a small laugh.

Her short walk to the kitchen is, in fact, a waddle, each shuffle of her feet sending pain down her pelvis. She makes a face and ignores it, placing a hand on her bump as if she can physically stop her daughter from dropping lower. A small flutter greets her hand; Emily smiles despite herself as she walks into the kitchen, her mission accomplished when she breathes in the warm scent of the cinnamon sugar cookies Aaron is taking out of the oven.

“Your daughter’s abusing me,” she grumbles, shuffling over to the piping hot cookie tray. Heat radiates from it in waves. Emily grabs a cooled one from the previous batch and pops it whole into her mouth.

“I’ll have a talk with her,” Aaron says, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth. Emily hums at the taste of cinnamon on her tongue, the cookie warm and sweet, crumbling easily beneath her teeth. But she can’t even enjoy it; mid-swallow, the pain rushes through her again, making her groan into her closed mouth. 

“What?” Concern knits Aaron’s brows, “What do you feel?” 

Somehow, Emily manages to swallow the cookie. 

“Contractions,” she croaks. They’re not anything new, but, “They hurt like a bitch.” She all but whines, tears misting her eyes as Aaron’s hand wraps around her elbow.

“How long have you been having them?” He’s nudging her into a stool. Emily sits, her fingers clutched in his shirt as he helps her down. 

“I don’t know.” Her voice shakes. Sweat slicks her skin. “Uhh…since lunch? Before—before we started the movie. Way before.” Her lip is suddenly between her teeth. “I’ve been—fuck,” she hisses, her nails sinking into Aaron’s flesh. Pain flares in her abdomen, shoots up her back. She whimpers.

“You’re in labor.”

Emily clutches at the counter. She can’t be. It’s Christmas tomorrow, almost two weeks from her due date. Two.

She was supposed to have more time.

“N-No,” she’s shaking her head, cool air slapping her cheeks from the vigorous movement, “I can’t be. I’m not ready.”

“You are,” Aaron soothes, so calm it makes her want to break something. “Honey, we have to—”

“It’s early.” She chokes out. “She’s not supposed to be here until January, Aaron, it’s still—it’s still early.” Her voice wavers again, but not from the pain. “How can you be so sure, anyway, they could just be—”

“Have they been getting closer? Lasting longer?” At her silence he cups her cheek, gentle but firm. “She’s coming now. You gotta let her, Em.”

Emily closes her eyes, her whimper stifled into her bitten lip. She’s shaking her head as Aaron holds her up, carrying her weight against his chest. There’s a quick press of his lips to her hair, a murmured, I know that pushes tears to her eyes.

She’s having her baby tonight.

The contraction is still rolling through her when Aaron calls for Jack. She feels the vibration of his voice through his chest, the pattering of footsteps on the floor static in her ears, muffled as if she’s underwater. Emily twists her fingers in Aaron’s shirt. He palms the back of her neck.

“—shoes on and come here when you’re done, stay with Mom while I get the baby’s things, okay? I’ll stay with her till you come back.”

She doesn’t need anyone to stay with her. Emily opens her mouth, about to say it, when another contraction hits. It sends pain across her abdomen, burying the feeling of Lucy shifting around. She closes her eyes and gnaws on her lip.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“She’s having the baby now?”

“Yeah. Let’s go, we have to get to the hospital.”

“But isn’t it too ear—?”

“Jack,” Aaron says tightly, feeling the way Emily tenses, “buddy, it’s okay, it happens. Babies are rarely born on their due dates. Can you do what I asked?”—a soft, breathless yeah—“Quick, bud, c’mon.”

A swish of air. A hand skating up the length of her arm, the warmth of Aaron’s fingers cupping her cheeks. Emily opens her eyes, finding his blurry outline crouched in front of her.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “How are you holding on?”

She shakes her head. Her tongue is heavy, her jaw tightly clenched against the pain.

Aaron’s eyes are pinched with poorly concealed concern. He stands up and rubs her arm, mouthing some reassurances she can’t hear into her hairline. They vibrate through her skin until Jack’s sneakers come into view, from the corner of her eyes. He’s holding a pair of her shoes—the only pair that fit her anymore—which Aaron takes in hand and kneels down to fit on her feet.

He slips her right, already sock-covered, foot into her shoe, deftly tying the laces together in a double knot. When he’s done he moves on to her left, and through the haze of pain she can only think of one thing.

“I’m in my pajamas,” Emily mumbles, teary-eyed.

Aaron looks up. His mouth opens, no doubt to console, but Jack beats him to it.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Emily looks up to find his eyes wide and earnest. “Me and Dad are in our pj’s too. We won’t change, right?”

She never imagined she’d cry before even stepping foot in the damn hospital.

****

Forty eight minutes later she’s shivering in a hospital gown, numbed from the waist down from her epidural. Six centimeters dilated and the clock inches closer and closer to 9.

It’s there, under the annoyingly bright fluorescent lights of her hospital room, that it hits.

She’s having her baby on Christmas.

Emily’s vision is blurry before she knows it, hot tears rolling down her cheeks with all the ease of a hot knife slicing through butter. Her control on her emotions hung on a thread that has long since snapped, pregnancy a pair of scissors that rendered her a puppeteer with no control over her puppets. From the first few weeks she started crumbling, compartmentalization blown to pieces before she even started to show. It’s something she despises, even more than the aches and pains almost continually rolling through her body. Tears drop at wrong delivery orders and itchy clothes, unsatisfactory baby names and ugly shades of paint for the nursery. And now her daughter is going to share her birthday with a major holiday for the rest of her life.

The sob doesn’t build long in her chest before it breaks free. 

Aaron straightens from where he’s sitting next to her bed. “Emily,” he perches on the edge of his chair, leaning against the handle separating them, “what is it, sweetheart? Are you still in pain?”

Emily’s lip wobbles. “Our daughter is gonna be born on Christmas. Do you know how much it sucks to be born on Christmas?” Her voice breaks on the last word, thick with the taste of her tears.

Aaron blows out a slow breath. The sound irritates her, a flash of annoyance sparking under her skin. But then he takes her hand and rubs his thumb into the tight skin stretched over her knuckles, replacing the bone-deep cold with his warmth.

“It would suck,” he agrees quietly. Emily chews on a sob and turns away, the confirmation in his voice too much for her to take. Aaron brings her back with warm fingers under her chin, gently forcing her eyes on his. “It would suck,” he says again, “if we weren’t her parents. We’ll make it special for her, Emily, you know we will.”

The distant feeling of a contraction ripples through her body. Emily clutches his hand, blinking back superfluous tears until it passes. “How?” She croaks.

His brows tick the slightest bit upwards. Aaron idly brings her hand up to his lips, muffling his thoughtful hum into her knuckles. “Well…we could split the day. Merry Christmas in the morning and happy birthday in the afternoon.” He murmurs. A few more ice-cold breaths and the corner of his mouth ticks up. “Gingerbread pancakes for breakfast and a cake after lunch?”

“...Gingerbread pancakes?” Emily frowns tearily. “Do those even exist?”

“We’ll make them exist. We’ll make up a new tradition for her—for us. It’ll be ours.” Aaron reassures, squeezing her hand. It warms in his grip. “We’ll make it work, Em. It’s hardly the hardest thing we’ve had to do.”

Truthfully, he almost convinces her. It’s hard not to; his eyes are warm, his hand warmer still and his voice bucketfuls of cloud-like softness to calm her down. Emily sniffles, seeing gingerbread pancakes, and almost starts to smile.

Until a thought unfurls in her head and more tears spill down her cheeks. 

“J-Jack’s not gonna have a normal Christmas anymore.” She hiccups, eyes burning. “Neither of them will. And”—she aggressively wipes the hot tears on her face—“I think I traumatized him. Fuck, he saw me crying—”

“Emily—”

“We should tell him we got him the Nintendo.” She sniffles, “He’s probably upset. God, what kid wouldn’t be upset that their sibling is being born on Christmas—”

“Honey, you’ve got to save your strength.” Aaron says gently. He wipes her tears, uselessly, because more spill down her cheeks. “Jack isn’t upset, okay? Jess just texted that he can’t sleep, he’s so excited.” 

Emily blinks damp lashes at him. “She did?”

Aaron’s smile is endlessly patient. “Yeah, she did. Come on now, let’s think of the good stuff.” He slips the hem of his sweater over his heel and gently dabs under her eye. “In a couple of hours, we’ll have our baby. And, just think about it—we’ll have more time with her than we thought we would. Fifteen more days than we thought we’d have. Isn’t that—” Aaron swallows, his hand faltering as a faint shine gleams in his eyes. “Isn’t that good, Emily?” 

Fifteen days. Fifteen more days to know her baby, to get to speak out her name and run her finger down the length of her cheek. 

More tears pool on her lashes. God, she’s sick of them. “Yeah.” Emily croaks, half laughing, half sobbing. “Yeah, it’s good. Fifteen days.” She wipes under her eye.

Aaron smiles softly. “She just couldn’t wait,” he lays his palm on the curve of her stomach, “must’ve heard about all the fun we’ll be having and got jealous. Did you, Lucy?” Impossibly, his voice softens further. “You just wanted to be part of it, huh?”

Emily smiles blurrily as she dries her face with the heel of her hand, watching Aaron lean over the handle to talk to her bump. That in itself isn’t unusual, but:

“You’re talking so much,” the thought slips past her lips before she can catch it, half delirious already from the pain and her epidural. Her hand finds his face, the pad of her thumb dipping under his jaw. “You never talk this much.”

She must really be on the ledge.

“Well, you’re freaking out. I have to do something.” Aaron murmurs. “What, should I stop?” The teasing lilt to his voice makes her cringe.

“No. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.” Emily mumbles, apologetic even though the brown of his eyes is warm. “S’mean.”

Aaron’s hand covers hers. Their fingers lock together, the metal of their rings notching with a tiny click. “You’re in labor, Emily. I think you saying a few mean things is warranted.”

“So you do think it’s mean?” Her eyes brim up with tears again. Great, she traumatized Jack and is bullying his father—

“No, baby.” He smothers a sigh into her knuckles. “I think you should stop worrying about my feelings and focus more on getting this little princess out,” his other hand drops to her stomach, knuckles gently tracing over the scratchy material of her hospital gown. Lucy stirs, but she doesn’t jab an elbow into Emily’s gut in response. “She’s not kicking anymore,” he notes.

“Mmm,” Emily sniffs, stealing her hand from his grip to place it on the palm lying on her stomach. It’s a bit of a useless exchange. “S’weird. She’s, like…rolling. Shifting.” Her brows furrow, even as Aaron smiles. “Can’t really explain it.”

A contraction makes her lace their fingers together, squeezing his hand though it doesn’t hurt, not really. When it passes he grabs a water bottle off her beside table and pushes it into her free hand, murmuring something about restoring all the water she’d lost. Emily glares at him weakly but takes it, her throat drier than she’d like from what seems like hours of crying. Neither of them are surprised when she drains the whole bottle in one go.

Emily’s eyes restlessly flit to the clock again; she groans when she finds it’s not even 9:30 yet, the clock’s long hand hovering between 4 and 5. The exhaustion is heavy in her bones, though it seems she’s hardly done anything but cry. Aaron makes her down yet another bottle of water at that, and when she’s done he wordlessly conjures a wet wipe and wipes the dried tears from her face.

She’s about to scold him for opening up their unborn daughter’s pack of wipes when a knock sounds and the door opens. The nurse comes in, cheerily announcing that it’s time for another checkup.

“How are we doing, Mrs. Hotchner?” She asks as she pokes and prods, pressing the transducer to Emily’s stomach. Lucy’s heartbeat comes through, and both Aaron and Emily exhale.

But the relief quickly disintegrates.

“Tired.” Emily grumbles.

Izzy smiles sympathetically. “You’re still at six centimeters. You could take a nap, if you’d like. It’ll probably still be a while.”

“It’s a good idea,” Aaron says when she’s gone. “Today was busy.”

It was busy. They’d been up since the morning, wrapping presents and hiding them—Jack’s—in their closet. Aaron had gone to the mall for some last minute gifts that slipped through the cracks, and she’d stayed home with Jack, hanging stockings while stepping through mountains of wrapping paper, half of them shredded to streamers from Sergio’s claws. But it was a good kind of busy, a good kind of ache that lingered alongside Lucy’s constant presence. It’s a kind of busyness she never thought she’d get to have, fated to celebrate holidays surrounded by friends but ultimately on her own. Now warmth flows from a home she can call her own, a family that makes her count lucky stars she never even believed in.

“Yeah,” Emily hums, abruptly closing her eyes at the feeling of another contraction. She lays her hand on her bump, thumb drawing circles as she tries to imagine meeting the little girl beneath her skin, finally getting to hold her, place a face to the name. She’d already imagined Aaron’s eyes, their dark hair—and hopefully those Hotchner dimples that she wouldn’t stand a chance against. The vision makes her breath hitch.

“Does it hurt?”

“Mm, no,” Emily mumbles, trying to open her eyes. She does it with some difficulty—forehead scrunched, squinting into the same alert pools she just saw beneath her closed lids. He is a little blurry again, but she blinks forcefully. “I fucking love drugs.”

Aaron laughs lightly and leans over the handle of her bed, kissing her temple. “I think that’s your cue for that nap. Close your eyes,” as soft as his voice, he adjusts the blanket up to her chest, “it’ll probably be the last good sleep you’ll have in a while.”

Emily snorts weakly. “If you can call having the whole bottom half of your body numb good…” 

But she can’t complain too much. Except—

“I’m cold.”

Aaron reaches for the hem of his sweatshirt. The pajama shirt he’s wearing underneath rides up his stomach as he pulls it off, exposing a sliver. Emily chews on a smile, trying to hide it as his pajamas come into view. Jack had insisted on them—she kind of had, too—and Aaron stood no chance in refusing the bright red pajamas. He tried, but not very convincingly; Emily thinks she—impossibly—loves him all the more for it.

Aaron fishes his arm through the neckline and folds the sweatshirt back the right way. Softened strands of hair wilt into his face, shaken loose in raven threads above his eyes.

“Here,” he kisses the skin between her brows before gently stretching the neckline of his sweatshirt and guiding it over her head. Her hair gets trapped under it; Aaron pulls it out as she clumsily shoves her arms into the sleeves. Warmth settles over her, stretching over half her belly, though the blanket over her legs doesn’t do much.

Hospital beds always leave her with a distinct chill. The ones for her checkups were different, but beds like these remind her of the crushing fear she’d been left with last time, the loneliness and pain knowing her friends thought her to be gone. Now the extra space is heavy with the cold, even though she’s not anymore. 

Emily stretches her hand over the handle. Aaron takes it, pressing his lips to her knuckles before encasing them between both of his warm hands.

“You’re in your pj’s,” she mumbles, a half smile getting squished into her pillow. Christmas pj’s, no less.

A faint smile curves his lips. Dimples. “Mm, solidarity and all that,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

“Bet the nurses had a good laugh,” her words start to slur.

“Bet they did,” his teeth show, a small laugh escaping as pink colors his cheeks. “Now close your eyes.”

“Y’know, I’m starting to think you just don’t like me.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, dipping his head down to catch her lips. They’re warm; she tingles all over. “I just want you to rest up, okay?”

“I guess.” Emily whispers. Her eyes flick up to his. “Just don’t let go of my hand.”

Aaron threads their fingers together. 

“I won’t.”

****

Emily is in awe.

She’s sticky, she’s sweaty and numb, her legs useless, but she’s in awe. Her arms are full of her baby, the downy pink of her blanket rubbing softly against her arm. Lucy’s eyes are closed as she sleeps, quiet as the stillness of the room, and Emily can’t stop tracing the soft, miniature curve of her nose—her own nose, in a different face. 

“I did such a good fucking job,” she mumbles tearily.

Aaron’s lips press together, dimples blooming in his cheeks. “You did.” He nods.

“And you did, too.” Emily sniffs. She takes his hand and squeezes. “Thanks for my baby, Aaron.”

This time he does let himself laugh. “It was my pleasure, sweetheart.” He tucks stray bangs back behind her ear, escaping from the braid he’d put her hair in. “Believe me.”

Emily bites her lip between her teeth, a poor effort to conceal the bubbly giggle in her chest. It’s strange; she’s distantly aware of bone deep exhaustion, a heaviness lining her eyelids, but she looks down and feels floaty. Christmas miracle, Aaron had called her when she was placed into Emily’s arms, red and screaming.

She has to agree.

When Jack sits on the edge of her bed and holds his sister, Aaron’s hands supporting his, he looks up at her with wide eyes.

“She’s way cooler than a Nintendo.”

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter Warmers day 26 version 2: Cock warming. Max/GP. About 1.4k words.

Max walks towards his hotel room, slightly dragging his feet, feeling tired to the bone. Even in a building as big as this one, he can hear the pounding of the rain outside, see the occasional flash of lightning. He changed clothes at the track, after trying to dry himself up a little, but he hadn't had time to shower between the interviews and the post-race debrief.

He barely had the energy for it anyway.

It had been a very long and frustrating weekend, rain slowing down every session, almost stopping them from having a race at all. Not that they had ended up racing much, between red flags and safety cars.

Now, he wishes he could go straight home, but the weather is bad enough he had been advised to wait for the next morning, so one more night at the hotel it was.

He leans slightly against the wall as he looks for his room key, his eyes threatening to stay closed with every blink. The headache that had been steadily forming during the day seems to be back with a vengeance, pounding at the back of his skull.

The door opens with a beep, and he pushes it open, just wanting to go take a shower, or maybe straight to bed, no matter how disgusting he might be, when he realises the lights are on.

He blinks, not really wanting to have to deal with an intruder at the moment. If there is a murderer waiting for him, he might let them do their job without arguing.

He walks in, tiredly trying to muster up enough energy to send whoever it is out of the door, but what he finds isn't a murderer.

Instead, GP is sitting on the small couch, a stack of papers in his lap and an highlighter in his hand.

He raises his head, flashing Max a smile that is just as tired in the corners as Max feels.

"Hey," GP greets him, "I let myself in, I hope you don't mind."

If it was anyone else, Max would very much mind, but with GP he just shakes his head, toeing out of his shoes.

As soon as he's shrugged his jacket off though, his momentum stops, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, the following tasks (taking a shower, changing, maybe eating something, going to bed) feeling too draining to even start. He wishes he could teleport straight back into his bed at home, his cats curling on the blankets next to him.

"Max?"

Max looks up, and finds out that GP has moved, now standing in front of him, a worried expression deepening the wrinkles on his face.

Max should probably tell him that he's fine, he's just tired, he just has to get going and then he'll be fine, but he can't get his mouth to move. What he does instead is tip forward, until his forehead lands on GP's shoulder, his hands hastily coming up to steady him at his waist.

GP presses his cheek against the top of his head, moving half a step closer to make the half hug more comfortable.

"Are you sick? Or just tired?" he asks, keeping his voice soft but stern. It's a fair question, it wouldn't be the first time Max hides a illness to be able to race, but it's not the case this time.

"Tired," he mumbles, voice raspy. Even just that one word feels like too much effort, tongue stumbling around the letters, heavy and drained like every other muscle in his body.

GP hums, rubbing one hand up and down his back. His presence alone is so comforting it makes Max feel like he could fall asleep right there, standing in the middle of the room.

GP gives them a few more moments, before gently pushing Max back, keeping his hands on his hips while he waits for Max to hold his own full weight again.

"Shower?"

Max wants to say no, wants to lie and say he's had one already, but he knows this is pretty much just a rhetorical question and GP will make him shower anyway. So he nods, trying to muster up enough energy to get to the bathroom.

He looks through half lidded eyes at GP, who's now rifling through Max's suitcase to find some clean clothes, and then heading to the bathroom, turning the water in the shower on.

"Come on, Max, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can go to bed."

It's not the first time they have showered together, but it's the first time it's not following, or preceding, sex. Normally, it's all languid kisses, wandering hands on warm skin, but this time Max can't do much more than just standing there, letting GP take care of him.

GP is thorough with it, but careful. He makes sure no shampoo gets in Max's eyes, and that Max is always at least partially under the spray, not getting cold.

It's meditative, in a way, to let the water wash over him, feeling GP's strong hands moving over his naked body, turning him this or that way, and he turns his brain off.

When they're done, GP helps him into a towel, drying his hair for him with another, and then into clean clothes, warm from being left on the radiator.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence once they are back in the main room.

Max nods, sitting down on the bed and rubbing at his eyes, so tired they sting. He wants to go to sleep, but he knows that if he goes right now he won't fall asleep anyway.

For how tired he is, for how much his muscles hurt and his head aches, he knows his brain is still too awake, the last dregs of adrenaline still cursing through him.

He looks at the sheets of data GP had abandoned on the small couch and pushes himself to his feet again, ignoring GP's quizzical look to gather them up and bring them over to the bed.

He sits down near the headboard, and pats the spot beside him until GP sits, the data next to their legs.

"Max, I don't think going over data is going to be productive for you right now," GP tells him, his eyebrows wrinkled again with a worried pinch. That's fair too, Max knows. Both saying that he would be useless right now, and worrying about Max working too much. But that's not what he plans to do anyway.

So he shakes his head, pressing a hand on GP's shoulder until he is sat back against the headboard, then handing him the data.

And then he slides under the blanket, moving down on the bed until he's parallel to GP's legs, head in his lap, nosing against the underwear, Max's, he had put on after their shower.

"Max..." GP stops him, carding a hand in his hair. "I don't know if either of us is up for that. Quite literally."

It's true. Neither him or Max are hard, but that's not what Max wants.

"I just..." he tries, words clumsy in his mouth, "I need..."

He doesn't know how to end the sentence, doesn't know how to explain he just wants his brain to be quiet, to be able to sleep, but GP seems to understand anyway, his eyes growing softer.

"You need this?" he asks in confirmation, one hand coming down to cup Max's cheek, making him look up, his neck straining as he nods.

"Go ahead then."

Max's hands feel too big as he tries to rid GP of his underwear, but he gets there in the end, placing his head back in GP's lap, guiding GP's still soft dick inside his mouth.

He sucks at the head for a moment, tonguing at the slit, listening to GP's breath hitch, before taking into his mouth properly.

It's immediately perfect. Even when not hard, GP's dick fills his mouth nicely, the noise in his brain quieting down, the feelings of the day washing away, leaving him empty. All that counts is right here, just the weight on his tongue, the smell in his nostrils, the hand in his hair.

After an indefinite amount of time, he hears rustling of papers, and the sound of GP's voice, reading data aloud, creating the perfect background. In any other moment, Max would listen, would try and remember as much as possible, but not right now.

Right now is for sucking spit back into his mouth, breathe through his nose, and drift.

[imagionationstation]

I am here to tempt you with evil Leo but not to his brother and Donnie is the one receiving the good feelings

~ELT

I AM SO TIRED I SHOULD BE SLEEPING

BUT MUCH LIKE RAFA, LEO HAUNTS MY SLUMBERS

“Just because you didn’t kill me, doesn’t mean he’ll trust you.”

Leo stares at him a moment, watching as the ninpo flickers up his arm, zipping into the collar around his neck, safely contained so he can stay bound and helpless in the corner where the Sensei left him.

He should be dead, but the timing was all wrong.

He’d found Donnie before anyone was supposed to. And Donnie had been terrified at the idea of watching him die. He couldn’t scar his little brother with that. He doesn’t understand. He’s not ready.

Burning eyes stare up him, sparking around the irises.

More ninpo dissipates.

Leo tilts his head, just so. “You don’t say.”

“You can’t really think he will? That any of them will?”

Leo walks over to his drugged brother, finally sleeping after so much stress. Poor thing only agreed to rest if Leo promised not to go anywhere. He could understand the sentiment. He wouldn’t want to be left drugged and restrained in an unknown area either.

He hates it. He hates that his hands had been tied. He hates that his brother is so smart. He always did manage to cause trouble with those big brains. It was his gift, and sometimes, Leo’s curse.

So smart, but so, so naive. So trusting. So easily confused.

The drugs weren’t meant for him. But when a plan goes wrong, a leader has to know how to improvise.

Irritation coats his actions as he brushes some of the dust from his arm and watches his shallow breaths. The tranqs should be wearing off soon. His hand lifts for the pressure point.

It might be vindicating to watch him squirm after all the trouble that he’d caused him. But. But. This isn’t really his fault, is it?

He stands, walks over to his annoying captive, and stops right in front of him. Narrowed eyes glare back, refusing to be intimated.

In one swift movement, Leo kicks him hard in the plastron.

He cries out and Donnie gasps awake.

His head jerks, half-lidded eyes glazed, and in the same instance he tries to rise, he falls against the wall. His head slumps, pupils dilated as ninja senses urge him to find the threat and fight.

Leo flies to his side. He sets a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to process the weight, some of the frustration dying when frantic eyes lock on him. He’s confused, and Leo uses it.

"Shhh." Leo murmers as his little brother whines, disoriented. He cups his face, gingerly. "You're okay. You're safe. I’m here."

He shakes his head, trying to look around, but Leo holds him still.

A soft chirp slips out, a vulnerable sound that all of his brothers rarely, rarely make. It twists up his insides like nothing else can, and he’s suddenly aware that every late day spent wondering if they’d be okay without him seems wasteful. Of course they wouldn’t.

He can’t believe he let those turtles get in his head. That he’d actually let himself be manipulated into thinking that his little brothers could be fine. It sounds so stupid now.

Even his mind wasn’t unharmed by their invasive touch.

He’d just need to keep them from speaking ever again.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He coos as Donnie pants, slowing his struggle, but still tense in panic. Leo nods, smiling fondly at sleepy eyes. “I know. But it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just rest.”

Like the magic that brotherhood is, the fear melts away as Donnie lets his eyes close, leaning obediently into his hand. Leo presses their foreheads together, churring lightly, and supports him until his breathing evens out. And then he pulls away, familiar warmth oozing from his heart to fill his chest, swearing, "I've got you."

Donnie churrs, briefly, as his consciousness falls away.

And, right there, Leo forgives him for everything.

Because he knew it. He knew it.

They need him, just as much as he needs them.

So the Sensei stands, facing the watching turtle.

“Does that answer your question?”

“He’s drugged.”

“He trusts me.” Leo speaks over the nonsense. “More than anyone else in any world, they trust me. All the way down to their subconscious. They know with me- they’re safe.”

“Maybe you won’t hurt them but they won’t let you do this. We’re your fam-”

“You’re imposters playing pretend.” Leo hisses, crossing the distance. "And my brothers may never forgive me. They may be scared to follow me, but at the end of the day, I'm their brother. I am their Sensei. They'll still trust me with their lives because I would do anything for them. That trust is all the matters to me.”

"But you," Leo pulls out his sword and holds it close to his chest, right over his heart. "-cannot be trusted." He touches the plastron with the tip of his blade. "And one day, I'll help them see that."

“What are you going to do?” He asks, soft.

“What you guys do best.” The Sensei taps the broach on the belt of his sheath. “Lure my audience and put on a show.”

[disgracefulthings]

Does anyone else have the headcanon that Shang Qinghua is terrified of thunder storms?

[screampied]

‘ ALLLL ON MY TONGUE I WANT IT ★ ?!

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, geto, sukuna, higuruma. how the jjk men eat you out, ‘till the jaw aches

cw. fem! reader, cunnılingus, dirty talk, praise, edging, nose riding, hair pulling ( geto ), slight mommy kink ( choso ), squırting, overstim, p spanking, dumbification, puśsy drunk men, spıt kink, biting, i forgot nanami nuu, sukuna uses his hand mouth.

wc. 4.0k+

☆ SUGURU GETO.

“i’m hungry. spread ‘em,” balmy hot breath fans against the inner parts of your thighs as you sit still. lazily, you lean back against your bed, meeting the feral gaze of a very feral man with dark raven strands running down each sides of his face. there’s an almost pout forming on his lips before he kisses your pretty twitching pussy through your panties.

without hesitation, he ogles as your legs sprawl away from each other. he rests on his stomach, preparing to dig in before you stop him, lightly grabbing him by the hair. “s- sugu,” you breathe, feeling a tingle brew inside of your tummy, mixing along with a fluttering concoction of butterflies. he stares at you with a raised brow before you pull out the sable black hair tie that was secured around his wrist, pinning his hair up into a messy ponytail.

“oh,” he hoarsely hums with a shrug before preparing himself to dig in - licking a long sloppy stripe that forms a sticky wetness against the cottony fabric of your panties. “thank you baby. always so thoughtful.”

geto didn’t have to tell you twice. whenever he came home, he wanted you. whether it was thirst or hunger, the only thing that would clench his thirst and feed him right was that pretty thing between your legs. he’d eat you out for hours, up until his tongue is numb and his jaw is just aching.

“thirsty,” he huffs, and you could hear him swallow every few slurps. your legs were already shaking in dire anticipation. geto’s irregular breaths were gruffly strained—he runs his calloused fingertips against your slick folds before lapping them up with his tongue. “mhm,” dark eyes flicker back toward you and he grabs your wrist that’s dug into his scalp. “pull. harder,” he grunts, instructing you to tighten your grip against his hair. you’d almost forgot it was one of the many kinks he’s told you he’s into. as you gather a good enough feel, you drag his hair by the ponytail, pulling harder and harder until he grunts. a sly smile presses against your pussy before he chuckles. “good girl. better had.”

as he’s shoved face first into your cunt, you notice the shine on his lips were painted a pretty crimson. with his eyes close, lengthy black lashes flap every so often as he’s devouring his favorite meal of the day. of every day.

“sugu, sugu, suguuuu,” you whimper, the sensitivity of the nerves that store inside of your clit making you fail to stay still. he inhales, gathering a decent wad of saliva before spitting right onto your cunt. it’s so nasty, he’s nasty. you watch with wide eyes, feeling yourself twitch even more before he licks it right up with no shame. out of nowhere—you felt yourself blurt out your thoughts you didn’t expect to come from your mouth. at least not so soon. “s- spank it, sugu.”

“spank it sugu,” he mocks your words, rolling his eyes before briefly moving his lips away. “don’t tell me what to do,” and within seconds later, he spanks your cunt anyway. damp droplets of your slick plop onto his palm and he groans. “last time i checked, i don’t take orders from sloppy wet girls so lie back ‘n let me finish eating, yeah?”

“yes, s- suguru,” you pant, the quake within your thighs never subsiding.

there’s another eye roll that comes from geto, and he goes right back to eating you out like a starved man. he doesn’t even need to use his fingers, his tongue was just enough. more than enough actually. orgasm after orgasm, he’s emitting out the most sweetest sounds from you. you’re so loud that it bounces off the walls. he hears the reverb of your voice and it makes him snicker. “louder,” he growls, slurping up a remainder of your saccharine flavored juices. your grip remains in his hair and you bite your lip, preparing to finish yet again. “i wanna hear you. i want the neighbors to hear you. i wanna hear a scream come outta that pretty tight throat.”

and he meant it — your pleasure meant everything to him. with the way he’s sucking, you wouldn’t have lasted a second longer.

the moment you end up reaching your inevitable climax, a potent bawl rips out of your throat raw. he’s munching on your pussy, eyes shut with an innocent smile on his face as if he hadn’t just made you an entire broken mess. “s- suguruuu!”

you’re shaking, panting.

it’s as if every finish was way more powerful than the last one. a breezing squall of wind prises from your full lungs before you fall back. your legs remain spread, mouth formed into a circular shape whilst you’re still making a cute attempt at trying to catch your breath. “c’mere,” a low voice murmurs to you, and he sits up to go toward you. geto’s sweltering body heat radiates against you. he tenderly wraps a hand around your neck before pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. “open.”

with half lidded eyes, you open, already knowing what’s to come. as you part your plump lips apart, rolling out your tongue, sharp hooded eyes stare down your throat before he leans in and spits right inside. you moan, feeling his free hand toy with your cunt some more, clearly not finished. “uh huh. now, swallow ‘n give me a kiss, sweetheart.”

as his hand squeezes against your pulsating pussy, you whine—swallowing, shutting your heavy eyelids before pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss. beads of sweat from his forehead press against yours before he returns the gesture, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mhm,” he grunts, now starting to suck on your tongue. it took you a while to realize geto’s eyes were already open, and he was looking straight at you. abruptly, he pulls away and gives your forehead a kiss. “good girl,” but then he makes you lie back, spreading your legs even further.

“but ‘m still thirsty. let’s see if i can make ya squirt this time, pretty.”

☆ HIGURUMA HIROMI.

“dove, you wanna ride my nose, don’t you?”

a low voice coos at you as he’s reclined back against the sofa. he’s sexily manspread, work clothes still on and unkempt — tie pulled off halfway and he hums, watching your abashed expression grow. “it’s okay, i don’t bite. c’mere.”

and with an usher of two swift finger motions, he tells you to come closer. with your panties still on whilst you’re slowly sticking your own arousal between your legs, you prepare to hover over his face.

you pause, parting your knees apart and on each side of his face before huffing. “a- are you sure? i don’t wanna suffocate you, ‘romi.”

“that sounds like heaven, trust me,” he whispers, grabbing ahold of both of your thighs. it was a secure grip. with two broad hands, he outspreads them - gentle thumbs stroking against your sweet, candied skin. “so perfect. so nice ‘n soaked jus’ for me, huh,” and after about a few seconds, you take your seat down on his face. higuruma gruffly grunts, a low guttural moan escaping from his lips before he smooches against your cunt. it’s slick, not only slick but sweetly sweet. “that’s it, dove. ‘s just you ‘n me, don’t be shy. ride it.”

you whine, biting down on your bottom pulled lip as your pussy grinds against the bridge of his nose. the second you ride against it, the feeling sent your entire body into overdrive.

with your lashes fluttering, you feel the bumpy texture of his hooked nose - it’s rough and gnarled—perfect for riding against.

higuruma lowly grunts at seeing the way your hips leisurely pick up its pace.

you were a natural, moving against his face whilst your hands find their way into his hair. his messy, knotted strands was like a maze. your slender digits entangle through his darkened roots, giving them a firm tug before your head tosses back in ecstasy.

“f- fuuuck, hiromi,” and you start to feel his tongue lay itself flat. you’re rubbing your cunt against his slick-spit lips and his nose back and forth.

over and over, you’re already spiraling,

profusely, your legs shake and jitter before you whimper out a desperate wail. “jus’ like that, ‘romi. p- please,” and as you continue to use his face, he’s meeting your eyes. it’s only been seconds and he’s already pussy drunk. a sly smile spreads across his lips before he slides a thumb down the opening of your cunt. “ngh, fuck.”

“yeah, dovey. ride my face—mphm,” and he’s interrupted by your cunt silencing his words. your taste, he just couldn’t get enough. higuruma’s already got a slippery snail trail of your arousal that’s coating his chin. it’s got an almost glow to it, you yank on his strands until his head falls forward. a throaty chuckle comes out of him before he flicks his tongue against your clit. “heh, easy now. my hair’s one of my best features.”

you couldn’t even laugh because pretty soon, you were about to reach your chilling climax. its shivering, frigid and you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

“fuh— fuck,” you clench your jaw, feeling your legs merely collapse right then ‘n there. it was unpredictable, you were an entire full blown mess and his tongue wasn’t making it any better. as you continue to thrash your hips into his greedy mouth, you’re clinging onto his hair tightly. his nose, the bumpy texture continues to rub off against your swollen cunt before it finally comes.

you come,

it comes all at once - an overwhelming bundle of nerves surge straight out of you, electricity pulsing through your veins as you come undone.

you’re sucking your teeth and you don’t even realize it. as you’re slowing down by default, feeling his lips steadily suck against your tender slick folds, he purrs.

“oh, my love,” he breaks away for a moment to breathe, warm breath titillate against your twitching heat. “made quite a mess out of me, huh,” and with a thumb, he rubs against your pulsating clit, giving the nub one final kiss. “such a good girl. my good girl.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“baby? c .. can we try this?” and you have a sheepish grin once choso’s showing you a video of a woman getting ate out. however, he’s imagining it’s you the entire time, feeling his mouth water at the pure thought of tasting your sweet cunt for the first time. it’s lewd, probably too lewd for him but he just couldn’t help it.

“sure, ‘cho,” you give him a soft smile. even your smile alone was enough to get him hard.

and it did.

with choso though, despite being over hundreds of years old, he was inexperienced but he was also a very quick learner. he tried to remember the video, the tongue work, how the man made the woman feel. but the second he’s diving into your cunt face first, there’s no prying him off.

you’re laid flat on your back whilst he’s right between your thighs, using a single thumb to trace down alongside your curves. he makes sure to pay attention to every part of your body at least he tries to. heart eyes blow its way into his pupils, dilating as he admires your pretty frame. “y- you’re so pretty, baby,” his voice was so soft and gruff. it almost sounds like a whisper.

not even seconds go by and he’s already drooling right before your pussy. a shimmery coat of saliva pours down the inner cracks of his lips as he gets a view of his meal. god, he couldn’t wait. every few seconds, he’d pull away to coat your slit with a multitude of amorous, sweet kisses. once you wrap your thighs around his face, he’s slurping anything and everything out of you.

you could barely stay still, going into a state of shock of pure pleasure. choso’s tongue was long, he makes it extend all inside of you, not missing a single spot. it curves its way through the inner parts of your cunt, taking time to swallow your taste and moan at the flavor that now lives on his tongue. your flavor. it doesn’t take him long to reach your sweet spot - because once you release that cute squeal, he sucks against it even harder.

“w- wanna make my princess feel good,” he murmurs, already drowning in your slick. your pussy was sopping wet, coating his chin with such ease. every once and a while, he flicks his tongue against his chin, relishing in your taste. “fuuuck,” he whines, feeling a cute tug of your hand drag his ponytail against your cunt. “use my ponytails like handle bars baby, ‘s okay— mmm.”

like a good boy, he slurps you clean, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, brushing a thumb against your navel as he’s happily luxuriating in your taste. “c- chosooo,” you mewl, feeling the intense shake of your legs arise.

it’s like a wave, everything’s preparing to crash down all at once. with the way you sung his name, it sounded like a harmony, a symphony.

his pointed ears twitch at the sound of your voice, the way your hips thrust into his mouth makes him drool for more.

already . . you’re stupefied. he’s drunk from your pussy and you’re drunk from his tongue. “ugh, jus’ like that, baby. you’re doing so good, making me feel so good.”

“i- i am?” his face cutely lights up. choso gives your cunt soft licks, delving his tongue in and out, exploring every depth. choso’s head moves side to side in a quick motion. it’s attractive, he’s already sweating and strands of black hair stuck against his forehead like glue. choso was a sucker for praise, especially whenever it came from you.

he can’t help but creep a hand down between his legs as he lies on his stomach, touching himself. he groans against your pussy, feeling your hips stutter from his erotic tongue work.

“y- yes,” you whimper, grabbing ahold of both of his soft dark ponytails. his eyes lock onto yours and he’s entirely pussy drunk—droopy eyes and that sheepish little grin. he looked so pretty, but the moment he stares down, choso knew that your sweet cunt was even prettier. as he’s lapping up your honeyed taste, slurping against your folds, you rub him against your soaked entrance with a more hastily tempo. “so good, choso. m- make me feel so good all the time.”

“i- i do?” he whimpers, moaning from your taste. he’s trying not to rush, he wants to savor the flavor of your cunt. your praises, it was enough to make him make a mess in his pants.

so much so to where he can’t help but reach down to touch himself. reach down into his obsidian black boxers, stroking his flaccid veiny cock. with choso, he gets off to you, your pleasure was always his pleasure. once he sees you nod, he lowly moans again against your cunt, quickening his tongue work and pace. “i- i do,” he repeats, kissing your folds again, and again, until you end up cumming on his tongue.

hard, it comes quick. it had your mind going for a loop — you couldn’t think nor could you register anything out of your little empty brain. you feel a hard pressure pressing against your abdomen, a pool of heat ghosting on your body and you get euphoric tingles. right away, your legs give out as he’s still dug between them, flopping back and landing with a cute oof. choso’s lower part of his chin was soaked and he loved it. he slides your panties back toward the center before having a soft pout. “are you okay? w- was i like the video?”

with a soft exhale leaving your windpipe—you huff, cupping his face. “even better,” and you lean down to kiss him. he moans into your lips, leaning into your gentle touch, sitting up to press his body against yours. swiftly, your tongue licks against his upper lip, tasting your taste that was lingering on his tongue - it’s sweet. choso could feel his heart racing, and you gasp once he slowly trails a hand down between your thighs. as he’s on top of you, he gives your cunt a gentle feel before licking a needy stripe up your neck. “c.. choso, you want more?”

“yeah,” he whines with a subtle nod, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s humping against your leg. “please— pleaseplease, take care of me now m- mommy?”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“nuh uh, no ya don’t. get the fuck back here,” and a small squeak leaves your throat as he’s dragging you back by the hips. clumps of creamy cum stick against the fat of your thighs - it’s spilling, oozing out and he licks his lips at the sight.

you moan from his touch, feeling his hand caress against your curves. “bend f'r me, yeah,” he whispers hoarsely, witnessing the limp arch your body submits. “atta girl,” he coos roughly, bringing his face directly up close to your ass. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he smacks his fat angry tip against your needy slit. kissing his teeth, toji grunts. “really milked the shit outta me, babygirl.”

indeed you did - as he drags a thumb down the swollen bulb of your clit, he stares at the excess cum that pours out of your hole.

“ngh,” you whimper, feeling his toasty warm breath tickle against your wet folds. the second you feel toji’s tongue lap against your entrance, your thighs only grow weaker. you were already so sensitive from before, and the moment his tongue licks against your pussy — you were over. toji’s nasty, smearing his face all over your drooling cunt with the most cockiest grin on his face. the curving slant of his scar brushes against your folds and your toes curl at the rough texture. “tooojiiii,” you gasp out a sweet elongated hum, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“such a fuckin’ messy girl, huhhh,” he quips, flattening his tongue to slurp you full. your legs shiver as your eyes start to roll back, feeling his thumb tantalizingly plug its way against your puckering hole. “messy baby, gotta fuck you ‘n clean you right up,” and his breath against your cunt only makes you twitch more. you moan over and over until your voice was a broke record.

it feels peculiarly cool, a frigid slick coats against your folds as he latches his lips. you whimper, muffled moans clashing against the soft surface of your palm before he playfully bites your pussy.

“such a crybaby, maybe i should stop hm? ‘s it too much? thought you were a big girl.”

“n- no, please,” you choke out a weak sob, the pleasure practically giving you whiplash. your ass swerves against his face briefly, making an attempt to rut your rear against his face. “i am your big girl—don’t stop, ‘toj. ‘m gonna cum, hngh.”

with a scoff, he continues to swipe his tongue across - flicks turning into sloppy, sultry sucks.

it’s to the point where he’s practically just making out with your pussy, tongue kissing and giving it solid french kisses. sloshing sounds of your wet pussy rings against his sensitive ears before he inserts a single thick digit. with gracious ease, you clamp around his finger and you let off a breathless moan.

“c’monnn, give it to me. all on my fuckin’ tongue, girl,” and as he’s sucking you clean, you heave, feeling the plush of your tummy cave in in rapture. once he gives your cunt a rude abrupt spank with his free hand, you let off a cute whine. he tchs, narrowing his jade blown irises at you. “fuckin’ slut. get turned on from jus’ about anything, huh,” and your thighs jiggle with recoil. your shrilling babbles only pitch and grow louder before he’s nibbling harder against your pulsating nub. you huff, digging the edges of your teeth into your flesh. already, you’re dumb and it’s moments until you cum right on his tongue. “mhm.”

as you blissfully succumb to your teeth shattering release, your chest slumps into the mattress and you’re left stupid - entirely stupid.

your tongue was lolled out and your eyes flickered back to the very depths of your craniums “fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, toji,” you slur your words on melodic loop, chewing on each individual syllable. as you collapse, you feel yourself dampen between the crevices of your thighs.

“allllll clean,” he snickers, giving you pussy another smack. you whine, feeling your cunt all tender and sensitive. toji pries his lips off, licking them clean before dragging his thumb across his scar. it was wet, his stubble was drenched, and toji leans in to give your filthy folds one final suck. you’re too stunned to speak, trying to wriggle your ass away from his mouth but he drags you right back again. “not so fast, baby. ‘m not done,” and before he flips you over on your tummy, he spanks your ass just to see the little jiggle. “but since y’er a good girl, i think you can give me one more, right?”

“well—”

you’re interrupted with a mean slap to your pussy.

“that’s enough talkin’ baby. ‘s time y’er pussy gets the mic,” and the dark haired man gives your folds a soft, loving kiss. in a low, hoarse whisper, he hums, staring straight at your twitching entrance. “ain’t that right, princess? uh huh, thought so.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

makes you squirt for the first time and immediately gets addicted to it.

“heh, angel if i had a dollar for every time you squirted f'me today, i’d be rich— well, technically i am rich,”

and of course with gojo, not only is he a good eater but he’s a fucking blabbermouth.

he’d literally talk your ear off while you’re riding his face. white thin strands of hair nearly occlude his view of vision. as he’s lying flat on his back, he needs to take a few seconds to dig his hand through his hair, combing the strands back in place. your legs tremor with desirable euphoria.

as you shifted your weight against him — his chiseled jaw all shiny and glistening with your arousal, he simpers as you prepare to speak. “s- shut up, ‘toru,” you repeat yourself for the nth time, eager for him to start up again. his tongue had you craving for more. this was his favorite view of you, without a doubt. just straddling his face, rocking your rickety hips back and forth until you gush out again. sucking in a long breath of air, you bury your shivery fingers into his smooth snowy-rich scalp. “ngh, talk so fuckin’ much just finish.”

“ugh, well excuse me,” he rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended. the white haired male used a single thumb to pry your legs open before he rolls out his long tongue. it’s clean, a pretty pink tongue that’s already watering at the tip. drip after drip. your breath hitches at the sight, he’s hungry for more and so were you. “let’s try with my fingers this time, pretty girl. think we can do that?”

you nod, inching a hand down to touch yourself but with quick reflexes - he grabs your hand only to then spank your pussy, earning a cute yelp from you. “ah ah. words, i was speaking to you, not your pussy, dummy.”

“y- yes,” you hiss, feeling the stutter in your waist accelerate. if it wasn’t for gojo’s hand gripping against your left hip, you’d have surely collapse onto him. “i can take your fingers, ‘toru.”

“fuck yeah you can,” he purrs - hot breath going right up against your slick folds. you whimper, watching with hazy doe eyes as he starts up again. gojo feels your cunt sporadically twitch in his mouth and he groans. he creates a swirl with the tip of his tongue before slowly inserting one finger. one eventually turns into two and the stretch, your legs were on its last final final hinges. you moan at the thickness of his digits curling all around your soaked gripping walls, swabbing up a nice amount of your slick slippery sweet. “yeah, listen to her. she’s got so much to say unlike you.” and his pristine azul eyes were staring straight at your cunt, not you. the wet wet squelches from your own slobbering folds makes your hips jerk forward quicker.

as he’s vigorously plunging two fingers in and out, his tongue continuing to slurp you clean. you whine, tugging on his hair, holding onto it tight for support. a hand claws into his silky strands before you hear the sloppy sluuuurps that slither out of his annoying mouth.

“sa— fuck, satoru,” you sob out, gasping once the tips of his digits locate your g-spot with such ease. he was so quick, his fingers knew exactly what to do. mimicking a bowling ball grip, he fucks his fingers into your swollen cunt, still latching his lips onto your pussy. “ngh, ‘toru. i just finished. satoruuuu.”

“babyyyy,” he mocks your moan in a faux manner, fully exaggerating the way you sounded. you rode his face at a more steady yet faster tempo, already feeling yourself about to collapse.

the stimulation had you floating on an incredible high. white thin brows of his arch into a furrow as he’s melting in your cunt, laying his tongue flat before overzealously sucking against your clit.

“mhm, that’s it. make another mess. awh. don’t be shy, ‘toru’s gonna clean—mmph,” he pauses with a grunt, giving you a half glare as you yank his hair forward. his smug grin returns and he briskly pistons his fingers further into your gummy walls. “as i was saying, ‘toru’s gonna clean you right up. always liked the mess.”

you’re spasming — the only thing you could see was a multitude of bright colors. as your jaw drops right on lewd cue, dangling goofily, you felt a gush of pleasure ripple out of you again. your thighs practically stuck together, the numbness adding its own kind of gripping sting before he quickly snatched his soaked fingers out. now, you’re just a drooling babbling puddle—with huffed breaths, you glance down at gojo who’s got the biggest grin.

as he’s lapping up your mess, you feel the tip of his nose swipe its way against your folds. he couldn’t help but smell you, your heat. you were so hot, in more ways than one. cerulean blue eyes meet yours one more time before he snickers, a tiny pout curling against his lips.

“oh, baby. are you cryin’?”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“no, go on. finish touchin’ her,”

hoarse low words embarrassingly creates a pulse between your thighs. as you stare at sukuna, not only are you knuckles deep into your swollen pussy but you’re also caught red handed.

curses, you knew full well how sukuna wasn’t fond of you touching what’s his. to him, you were his and that included your precious cunt. crimson red eyes bore into you as you slouch back, continuing to pump your sloppy drenched digits in and out. “keh. the audacity.”

you felt a burning heat settle against your skin, its feverish. you take a minute to swallow, a slimy coat coating the entirety of your fingers before you whine.

“kuna,” and he sucks his teeth - staring at you play with yourself right in front of him. with two hands, he spreads your legs, not wanting you to hide anything else. his touch send a feverish thrill up your spine and you gasp once he lightly smacks your hand away. “p— pleas-”

“quiet, woman,” he grouses, using the fat of his thumb to spread your quivering cunt lips apart further. he gets a full face view of how soaked you were. as you remain sat against a fluffed pillow, you gulp at the sight of the demon - licking his lips, forked tongue baring out a single fang the more his mouth stretches opens. within a second, he lolls out his long tongue before getting a sweet taste of your soppy pussy. you whimper, the texture of his pink muscle makes you shiver. “mhm,” he grunts, the low vibrations tickling against you.

but you start to feel an extra tongue glide against your soddened folds. voluntarily, your back arches and you heard a loud slurp before meeting the view of one of his broad hands.

you remember sukuna telling you how he had tongues on … certain other places of his body.

he’s told you about his stomach but never his hands. “s- sukuna,” you whimper, the texture feeling frigidly cold. it tickles at first, his clammy hand smearing back and forth against your cunt. “fuck, fuuuuck,” and your head leans back, all types of emotions foiling at your brain. and your irises slowly became docile. both slippery tongues were forked, long, and slimy. you shudder the entire time, gasping in long exaggerated breaths as your thighs try to stick together from the growing heat. “gonna cum, ‘kuna. ‘m not gonna last.”

“yes you are,” he snarls in correction, the mixture of two fat tongues diverting against your clit sends you pangs of obscene rapture.

he hums in amusement at the sight of your back and how it effortlessly arches for him and only him. another one of his hands creeps between your legs, plucking them open some more. his words were dangerously husky, they stirred something inside the empty depths of your tummy, making you pulse. speaking of, he feels the crazed pulse throb against each tongue, and his slurps become more carnal. “my, what a sloppy cunt. the audacity to be touchin’ her though is beyond me, little one,” and you could hear the possessiveness lingering off his tongue.

within each slurp, suck, and suckle—you just knew it was impossible to last. the stimulation of both concluding muscles against your folds makes you go further and further toward the edge. you’re so close that you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. sugary sweet with a sprinkle of saltiness. “sukunaaa,” you whimper, too weak to even pull at his hair.

you were at his very mercy - one of his favorite things in the world. the way you’d murmur out his name in that sweet pathetic voice, a desperate cry for more.

but alas, your words would always fall on deaf ears. he’d edge you ‘till the end, until you’re begging. with your legs feeling like practical mush, your jaw tightens before he finally lets you finish on both jarring tongues. “you’re so dramatic,” he grouses with a scowl, allowing you to conclude at your climax, heaving large breaths every few seconds. even though it was just minutes, with sukuna, he made anything seem like orgasmic long hours. “good girl, thaaaat’s it.”

and he moves his mouth away, allowing his hand tongue to do the remainder of the cleaning. the sensation was unlike anything you’ve felt before. you whimper, achy pipes in your throat all scratchy and hoarse from how vocal you were just a few moments ago. the tongue that rests against his palm sucks you clean—it’s more tender and gentle and you’re a stammering mess, secretly adapting to the strange yet pleasurable feeling..

you’re still trying to recollect breaths, invisible glue sticks and glosses between your legs before you glance up at sukuna who’s got a sly smile. “w- what’s with the look?”

“oh, nothing,” the demon retorts wittily, leaning up to press a soft kiss against your neck. his touch made you shiver and you wrap your arms around him almost instantly.

his cologne as always, was loud and made its name known across the entire room. leaning up against your ear, he licks it - which turns into seductive nibbles before he whispers. “i was just thinking. i think you’d prefer my stomach tongue a lot more, princess. i promise i’ll try not to swallow ya, heh.”

[canyonmooncreations]

I can’t stop thinking about bratty princess reader x bodyguards 141

Something something your life is ruined now that your father has hired four broody body guards to be with you at all times. They usually rotate shifts, one staying with you at all times.

Sometimes events call for three of them or all of them. So when it’s time for a royal ball and three of them are needed, Simon opts to sit this one out in hopes to avoid the uncomfortable socialization.

After the ball, John stays at the palace with you and Kyle and Johnny join Simon back at their residence. Simon is absolutely baffled when the boys don’t shut up about how bratty you were and the major attitude adjustment you need.

Talking about how you refused to follow directions, even when they were for your safety. Refused to buckle up in the car and struggled so much that Johnny had to hold you down while Kyle buckled you up. Pouting the rest of the way home. Refused to eat dinner at the ball and insisted they stop at a drive through even though that wasn’t on your itinerary. Threatening to get them fired if they don’t take you.

The boys go on and on about your behavior and Simon just listens, dumbfounded.

“What’s that face for Riley? She even worse with you?” Johnny asks with a frustrated tone.

Simon shakes his head. “No attitude for me.”

The boys both start laughing. There’s no way that’s true. You’re truly a spoiled rotten brat, they think. There’s no way that he’s serious.

They never believe him until there’s an event that calls for all four of them. Simon’s with you at the palace while you get ready. The three boys pull up out front ready for you to join.

They watch as you walk nicely to the car and climb into the middle settling in next to Johnny. Simon climbs in after you. The boys are ready for the battle of asking you to buckle up.

“Buckle, princess” Simon grumbles.

“Yes, Mr. Riley.” The car goes silent. Johnny and Kyle look like their eyes are about to pop out of their head. John doesn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed red.

The car ride is silent. The boys are too shocked to say anything. Since when did you have manners and the ability to follow instructions? John drives with a grin on his face. Simon is unphased as you rest your head on his shoulder.

At the event, you are on your best behavior. You eat your food, move when instructed to move, and smile the whole time. The boys are genuinely so shocked at this new side of you. They watch in awe as Simon approaches you and the ever present feisty look is no where to be found.

“Ready to go?” Simon asks softly.

“Can we please stay a little longer?” You ask so kindly. Simon nods and finds his protective position.

“Did she just say please?” Johnny asked exasperated.

“She doesn’t even know what that word means!?!?” Kyle is just as shocked. John just chuckles and shakes his head.

They then watch as minutes pass and you gently tap Simon and tell him you are ready to leave.

When you get to the car, Johnny decides to put this to the test. Simon gets you in the car and closes the door to talk to the event staff before leaving.

“Buckle up sweetheart.” Johnny instructs.

You give him a polite nod and buckle up quickly. John lets out a chuckle and before Johnny can’t say anything before Simon is joining them in the car. “Bloody hell.” is all that is heard as the car falls silent.

On the way home, you lean over the Simon and ask if you could stop for ice cream. He replies with a simple “No, princess” and is met with no reaction from you. A slight nod and your head falls back against his shoulder.

Kyle is about to lose it. You threatening to get them fired if they didn’t take you through the drive through the other day. What the fuck has Simon done to you??

Something something and now it’s the end of the night. Simon has got you settled into bed and walks into the castle living room to review how tonight went with the security team.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Johnny and Kyle stare at him as if he’s accomplished the impossible.

“Told ya, no attitude with me.”

John chuckles and pats Simon on the back as he grins.

A/n: is this dumb?? It’s been eating my brain for a four hour car ride 😭😭