#the only thing I can do is try to distract myself until I can move enough to get up

[running-in-the-dark]

I've been having extra awful nightmares lately. my regular nightmares are already bad enough 😭

I think it's because I get too hot (it's very cold at the moment, and I never remember to turn on the radiator in the bedroom before I go to bed, so then I need a second duvet and eventually I get too hot)

but ugggh it sucks so much to wake up from that. it's like my brain stores everything that really terrifies me for these nightmares. it's gory, it's psychological horror, it's everything that really scares me. great!

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[mywritersmind]

MARKS ON YOUR BODY - LN4||OP81

summary : In which it starts with strip poker and ends with questions about a specific hidden tattoo and some secret piercings. Or, Lando and Oscar are both hot for you and let you know it.

listen up : zakbrowndaughter!reader 18+ not fully smut but pretty suggestive (at least for me who doesn’t write smut lol) i’m blushing. STRIP POKER PHOTO INSPIRED!! tramp stamp and tits pierced??🙂‍↕️

words : 1425

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Alright Lan, You wanna stop?” Oscar eyes Lando who’s in pants only. The only way Lando would lose strip poker is if he distracted me too much with his body.

He laughs, “Fuck no!”

“Fuck yes.” I throw down my cards and yawn, “I’m bored of winning.” Oscar had so many pieces of outerwear that he’s lost multiple times but still is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Strip poker is my game apparently, maybe the possibility of the guys being naked fueled my fire.

“I swear you’re cheating.” Lando shakes his head.

Oscar’s laughing as I scoff, “I do not cheat! Just accept defeat, Norris.”

He leans against the table, “I’m not losing to you, Brown.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Lando.” Oscar fiddles with a card in his hand as I lean my head back. Apparently, my hair moves with me and Oscar’s brow shoots up, “You have a tattoo?”

I blink, “Uh yeah.”

“What!?” Lando practically screams, “Let’s see.”

I move back my hair to reveal the tattoo that’s behind my ear, it’s a tiny 8 for the number I grew up racing with. “That’s hot.” Lando nods as Oscar hits his arm, “I want to get a tattoo.”

“No you do not!” Oscar argues as Lando sends him a dirty look.

He turns back to me, his arms crossed against the table so his biceps pull my attention, “Did it hurt?”

I shrug, “Yeah, but some of my others hurt more.”

Lando’s jaw drops, “You have more? How did we not know this?”

I laugh again, “I hide them from my dad.”

“Really?” Oscar asks, seemingly surprised at my sneaky nature.

The corner of my mouth pulls upwards, “You wanna see the rest?”

His eyes are deep as he nods and taps the card against the table. “I’m assuming they’re easy to hide.”

I sigh and hook my finger to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upwards. He's right, of course. All of my tattoos aren’t easily seen by my father.

I pull my shirt until I reach my sternum. Lando’s smile dulls as his eyes zero in on my skin, clearly not wanting to miss anything. I have a star design that goes in a line with little details around it.

Oscar leans his head back against the headrest, biting his lip and checking me out. I don’t think he’s ever looked hotter.

Lando’s hair is a mess but in the sort of attractive way that makes you want to pull it. The two of them are my greatest desire with bright orange caution tape put up by my father.

Zak Brown hates when I'm with the two of them, no matter which, he doesn’t trust me. But coming back from the FIA awards, they offered me a ride since we were all going back to england, so it was only polite to accept.

I drop my shirt and I swear I see Lando’s mouth fall into a frown. “Damn… didn’t know you went against daddy’s orders.”

I smirk, “He hates tattoos…Thinks they’re trashy. Which is ironic because...” I stop myself before I can go on, trailing off and grabbing my water to play it off.

“Because what?” Oscar asks.

“Um…” I don’t really know what to say and I feel quite overwhelmed with these two men staring at me.

“You have one more. Don’t you?” Oscar’s trying to hide his smirk but is shit at it. Lando looks to his teammate, then me.

“Now we have to see.” The curly haired man stretches his arm on the table, his muscles rippling and making me bite my lip.

“Okay.” I situate myself so I'm sitting on my feet. I pause, looking at both of them for a second. The whole thing is so oddly erotic and ridiculously hot.

I turn around in my seat, pulling down the back of my sweats ever so slightly so my tramp stamp is in view. I look over my shoulder to see their reactions because neither of them say a thing.

Oscar is staring, face blank and directed at my lower back. Lando’s mouth is open just the slightest bit, his arm draped over the back of Oscar’s seat. It’s not huge, just thin lines that make up a butterfly and some swirls to compliment it.

“Fuck.” Lando whispers, Oscar looks at him but doesn’t tell him to stop, just mumbles along with his friend. “Yeah.”

“You like it?” I know they do. I’m not blind.

The two are staring at me like i’m fucking edible and the way they look right now, I might be. “I’d be an idiot not to.” Oscar says as I turn back around, my shirt still pulled up and my hair to one side.

“I think this is the first time Lando’s been speechless.” I joke as his eyes meet mine again and his cheeks go pink. “Am I making you nervous, Norris?”

I expect him to roll his eyes or scoff, but he just breathes out and says, “You’re really hot, Y/n.”

“Can’t argue with him there.” Oscar wipes a hand over his mouth before tapping the table, “I wanna see it closer.”

I realize that he means he wants me to sit on the table. “Not even a please?” I tease but I'm already turning and setting myself down on it.

I’m about to adjust my pants but Lando’s hand does it for me. His skin is cold and holds my hip as his fingers dip below my waistband.

“Why a butterfly?” Oscar asks, leaning against the table to get a better look. I lean back and rest against my arms as they look.

“Thought it was cute.”

Oscar laughs a bit, “How often do you mark your body because it’s cute?”

Lando slides out of his seat, moving into mine so I'm facing him. He doesn’t even ask, just slides a hand onto my hip and another on my shirt, pulling it up to see my sternum.

Oscar switches with Lando so he’s now holding the back of my sweats. I let my eyes train down Lando’s chest… his abs… his arms. He’s fit as fuck and the way he was acting during strip poker, he knows it.

I go back to Oscar's question, realizing I got distracted by Lando in front of me. “Very often actually, piercings too.”

This prompts Lando to push my hair behind my ear, admiring my jewelry, “How many do you have?” He sounds almost out of breath.

“Twelve.” His fingers drift over my earrings, counting.

“You only have five on each, though.” As soon as Lando says it, I hear Oscar shift in his seat.

I don’t even wait for Lando to catch on, I just grab his wrist and have my shirt go up with his hand. Lando lets out a noise, close to a whimper.

He stares at my bare chest, the only thing on me is my jewelry decorating each nipple.

I hear Oscar stand, his hand gripping my hip tighten as he gets closer. He’s looking over my shoulder, I lean back a bit so he has a better view of my tits.

Lando’s hand is resting on my neck, pushing my shirt against my skin, I can feel his pulse beat faster under my fingertips.

Lando’s gaze shifts to Oscar as the brown eyed man stares back at him. I feel like they’re having some telepathic conversation that I can’t understand, until Oscar looks back at me.

His eyes are darker, the air filled with tension. As my eyes flick to Lando, I see his chest rise and fall. I get it now.

My hand slips to Oscar’s face, his jaw and cheek warm against my touch. I hesitate purely to see how his breath hitches, then I kiss him.

Lando swears as Oscar’s tongue dips into my mouth, he freezes between my legs. I break the kiss with Lando, hooking my leg around his waist to pull him in closer.

“Are you still nervous?” I whisper as Oscar moves his lips to my neck. Lando looks like he’s dreaming, his head turning side to side slowly as I smirk.

He kisses me, softer than Oscar at first but he becomes sloppier when I start being affected by Oscar attached to my neck.

The aussie mumbles against my skin, “This your end goal all along? Strip poker… tattoo tour… fuck?”

I lean my head back and laugh, “No. I guess I'm just lucky.”

[cherubofthenight]

It really is that damn phone (a rant)

(written nov 18th, 2024)

I was in my bed-rotting, depressed, don’t know what to do with my life nor do I care era up until this morning. And I’m starting to think it’s the people around me bc as soon as I’m not at work, I’m suddenly the most productive person ever.

I’ve been on a mission to become that dream version of myself (which for me requires some physical effort on my part) and shifting and I realized- wait the diff between the dream ver of myself and my dr self only have like slight physical differences. But overall, same mindset, same boundaries, standards & morals. Same person on the inside.

So I thought why make a big deal out of this stuff? Why make a big deal out of being in your dr physically. Stay with me now. Like I try to think of things to do and how to behave and react to stay aligned with my desired self which.. I think I try too hard and it ultimately burns me out. So then I have no discipline to continue- just little sparks of motivation every once in a while.

I’ve realized I feel most at peace when I let things flow without trying too hard. Like when I journal or have inner monologues, sometimes I think—why not shift my awareness to my DR? And suddenly, it feels so natural. Lately, I’ve been focusing on just moving my awareness there instead of worrying about proof or the physical. It’s really just about letting myself tune in, no overthinking needed. Of course, this can still be tricky sometimes (I get sidetracked a lot), but that’s exactly why I started this blog—to explore and share the process as I go.

Anyways, back to the title. It’s that damn phone. THIS IS WHY I SAY GET HOBBIES. I came off Tumblr—I’m not on it as much as I used to be. I queue up my posts when I find something I want to share, then I just focus on me. That’s why I love meditation. Because meditation can be anything. What I just said about inner monologues? You don’t even have to call that meditation—I don’t, most of the time. It’s just about shifting your awareness, and that can happen in a moment. No need for a long process. Just a shift in focus, and suddenly, you’re right where you want to be. I only recently started to grasp that actually.

My last shifting attempt. I’m gonna put the video for what I did and I felt soo close to my dr (the one I had back then) and like it just in reach of my fingertips until it wasn’t. I panicked I freaked out, I lost all hope and inspiration and I had no discipline because I thought “oh shit what do I gotta do now? Do I have to do something now? How do I do this more? How do I get this feeling more? Like what.. what to do… um shit..” and I never got close to that dr ever again. And I hate methods so.. imagine how shocked I felt.

Shaysplanett on TikTok (@shaysplanet)

And then I never tried again, yk why? We get comfortable, we get distracted by the 3D and suddenly we’re forgetting we have desires and we wanna shift to different places

I used to hate reblogging a lot of LOA posts at a time because this community is just things we already know repeated over and over and over again. I also thought to myself.. hm.. what could I post (loa-related) on this blog? And I couldn’t come up with shit. Because it’s nothing new. Law of assumption is nothing new. It’s just recycled shit over and over put in different, pretty words so more people would understand it properly but I think we understand and we’re just not applying. But yet here I am making this post: saying what we know already (and I probably will keep doing that bc it’s how I remind myself)

yeah.

All of this to say what we’ve all heard a million times before: you don’t wanna be thinking too hard about your desire and then end up being consumed by negative thoughts of not having your desire. The more time you spend scrolling and reading about loa and shifting, the most pressure you put on yourself and you miss the one thing you have to do: change your assumption/move your awareness. If you come to the point that you’re spiraling, STOP. Take a breath. Remind yourself that everything is going to be great. Do something else.

(posting this bc i plan to actually take a break from tumblr and finally listen to myself. if you see posts, its bc they're queued. hopefully i actually take the break this time. ps i think im starting to move away from looking at shifting solely from a loa standpoint)

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

A pound of flesh - Lewis Hamilton x reader

You hear Lewis coming home before you can see him. Usually, he'd stick with his trusty every day Mercedes, the electric car smooth and quiet. But today, it's the Ferrari he's taken back from the airport.

"Look who's here," you tell Roscoe, who's already throttling to the door, tail wagging.

Lewis unlocks the door and goes to pet his beloved dog, barely managing to drag in his luggage. He pauses the soft scratches against fur to hug you and give you a quick kiss.

"Welcome back." You say. Usually, he'd be spending more time in Abu Dhabi for testing, but with his team change, he was free.

"Good to be here. Let me unpack this, and then we can all go out on a walk?" He replies, knowing that Roscoe would love the extra time.

"You boys can go out on your own. You know I can't say no to your fans. I think I took around a thousand pics when I had this looker all to myself." You suggest, not in the mood to be mindful of every movement you make. Especially now, when your desire to have Lewis was increased tenfold. Nobody needed to see your flushed face and slight clench of thighs after even the smallest touch. You swear your boyfriend was coated in aphrodisiacs, you could never get enough of him.

He agreed with a promise to be back as soon as possible. He attaches the leash to Roscoe, grabs the biodegradable baggies, and they're off. You are left with the remaining suitcase and bag. You decide to unpack it and sort it out, acts of service, and all that.

Lewis' luggage is neat. Is it surprising that the grid's fashion icon is not a fan of wrinkled shirts. It's all smooth sailing until you reach the smallest pocket of his backpack. There's a bottle of lube? And a fleshlight. You weigh the unfamiliar object in your hands. Was there a possibility he got it early for Secret Santa? But then why would it be open? Had he actually used it? If he had, how much? And ho7w did it look like? You certainly jumped ship fast, picturing Lewis pumping into the soft silicone toy. Did he think of you while doing it? Moan your name quietly as he filled it up with his cum? Did he use it every time, or was it a more of a last ditch effort. Lewis, spent, his hands slick with his spit and precum. His cock throbbing, but needing something more. Needing a pussy to fuck, a soft wet heat to sink in. Him lifting his hips and thrusting in earnest, needing to bottom out. Testing out the pace, seeing how certain rhythms would feel with you.

The fleshlight captures your attention so well that you don't notice the man himself walking back in your bedroom.

"Jesus fuck, please don't touch that." He pipes up, when he realizes just what you're holding. He's embarrassed. To own a fleshlight, a pocket pussy wasn't really his style. Truth is the purchase was once a necessity. A quick dip into a sex shop abroad years ago. He kept in around, because how the fuck do you even recycle this thing. And lately it's been coming in handy (and so has he).

"But I have so many questions." You say as you're still holding the toy. Usually, you'd drop it. But this was a goldmine. So you start with

"When did you get this?"

"2020." He replies.

"Okay, so at least I don't have to worry about being bad at sex." You laugh. Lewis walks over to you, arms wrapping around your waist, lips on your neck. Between kisses on your collarbone, he whispers that you're a great fuck. But he's only trying to distract you from being curious. So you don't relent.

"Why do you have it?"

"I'm an athlete in one of the most competitive and dangerous sports in the world. Almost every weekend, I'm in a car, risking my life. So yeah, hard not to get pent up. It doesn't help that I was notoriously single for some years before you came along. Can't really have a one night stand when your face is on a newsstand." He tells you.

Lewis' hands drift to your hips and move up. You hold the fleshlight away from his reach, and he retaliates by squeezing your breasts. His fingers clamp around your nipples and twist. Despite your needy moans, despite his promises to "make it worth your while," if you stop discussing his sex toy, you continue.

"Can't you just, I don't know, take a cold shower. Meditate it away or something. Do you need to get off?"

"Who do I have to blame for this, huh? Who's the one sending me nudes, videos, begging me to guide her through it, to make her cum? Who's the one that fucking jumps my bones at every break. You got me so fucking pussy drunk that I can't help it. I need to be inside of something. Otherwise I can't fucking cum." He says as his hand trails back down to your cunt. Despite the layers between you, the rough denim of your jeans and the cotton of your panties, you still feel him.

"Does it feel good? Is it like the real thing?" You ask, still managing to focus. But your concentration is broken when he says.

"When I'm away, it feels perfect. But then, I don't fucking know how you feel. I remember, but it's not the same. So I guess that will remain a mystery. Unless you want to try out a little experiment.".

You get what he means, and you're on the bed, clothes off. You're on your back, nipples hard, thighs glistening with slick and the fleshlight right on top of your aching cunt. You expect Lewis to grab a condom. Instead he simply gets the lube. You don't need it, but you're guessing the toy does. He's rubbing your clit, while touching the silicone toy at the same time. It's the faintest of caresses, a light tease if anything.

Usually, he'd not take his time, especially now, after he'd been away for so long. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you fast and hard, to make you cum. But you had a lesson to learn. Don't pry. Don't be a tease. Don't try to switch on him. Do not take his control.

It wasn't like you hadn't been bratty before. You'd be mouthy, sure. But you'd take the consequences. Whether it was spanking, too many orgasms or none at all. And now you're getting this. Being compared to a pocket pussy.

Lewis was no stranger to using toys, even with you. In fact there was nothing he loved more than pressing a vibrator against your clit as he fucks you. The buzzing between you brings you closer, making you squeeze his cock. But this, the fleshlight was different.

“Be a good girl and hold it for me, will you. Need it steady." He reminds you. Lewis watches your fingers clench around it. Yet you're shaking, practically vibrating from pleasure.

He kept up his rhythm, twin fingers trailing paths up your slit and that of the toy. There was a clear winner. Even his high grade, vegan lube was no match for your wetness. You were so eager and needy for him, beyond ready for anything he could give you. But he was a man of his word, he wanted to show you just why you were better.

He finally, finally presses a finger against you and you're a goner.

"You're fucking soaked, huh." He asks, as if it isn't obvious. Your hips are buckling against him and he has to grip them to stop you from moving. Saying something about unfair advantage, he makes you still, and fucking stops. No pleasure would come your way if you didn't play by his made up, unknown rules. With a whine, you beg for his touch. But he still doesn't use his fingers on you again.

His cock moves against your clit, rubbing it, then doing the same thing to the toy you're still holding. He spreads it open and thrusts slowly, letting the silicone envelop his shaft. It's fine. Then your turn comes. He sinks in you and it's so much better. Your little gasp at the first inch. Your warmth, the way you can't help but wrap your legs against his waist, to pull him closer to you. He takes the fleshlight and tosses it on the floor, not giving a fuck about the mess.

"Does this answer your question? About which is better." He asks and rejoices that you can only whimper and beg for more as a response. Lewis guesses that the triple header was also hard on you.

"Tell me how it feels." He continues, fully intent on milking this moment forever.

"Feels so good, God I need you like this again. Need you inside of me. Need you to fill me up, please." Lewis doesn't hesitate, gripping your hips and bringing you closer to him. His fingers move to rub your clit and that's your undoing. His comes about a minute later when you look up at him and say the magic words “Lewis, please.”. As much as he wants to lay next to you and cuddle to sleep, he's a good partner. So he takes the fleshlight that started this all and gives it a good scrub with some water and soap. Then he takes a towel to clean up his girl.

“You know, I gotta let you find my sex toys next. Let's see what happens then.” you say, and your words are somewhere between a treat and a promise.

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[babyfoxflower]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Chapter One Next

Alastor looked up at the now darkening sky. It was getting late and the only thing he managed to find on his hunt were a few measly rabbits that he stuffed into his hunting sack to make carrying multiple of them easier.

“At least we can make a stew out of these,” the disappointment clear in his voice.

He was hoping he’d find a nice big stag to bring home. His mother was quite fond of venison, and even had a special jambalaya recipe that included it. But he knew what ever she made would be delicious.

He took off his glasses and gave them a quick cleaning, he forgot his cleaning cloth at home and had to use his shirt. A bad habit he knew, but it was better than nothing.

He straightened them back onto his face, “Alright, time to go home.”

He started his way back, humming to distract himself from the lousy feeling in his chest.

“GOD DAMNIT!!!” A voice yelled from deeper in the forest.

Alastor stopped dead in his tracks.

That sounds like a lady. I wonder if she needs help.

His gentleman nature would not allow him to ignore a damsel in distress, so he set off in the direction of the voice.

“FOR HEAVENS SAKE! MOVE YOU DAMN STAG!”

Alastor was taken aback when he finally found the source of the noise. It was a woman alright, but a woman who did not match the voice that was coming from her mouth.

She was so beautiful, that Alastor almost couldn’t believe his eyes. He had never seen such a lovely creature in all of his twenty-three years of living. He blinked his eyes a few times to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Please, move,” a little whimper escaped from the lady, which snapped him back to reality.

She seemed to be trying to pull a stag with what looked like a makeshift pulling device made out of rope and twigs.

“Excuse me, Miss. Do you need some help with that?” Alastor asked her, while approaching slowly as to not frighten her.

She jumped at the sudden noise before quickly turning her head around to see who was there.

“Oh, thank god! Yes please, Mister. Could you please help me if it’s not too much trouble?” A look of relief on her pretty face.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I’m always willing to help out a lady,” he smiled kindly.

“You’re too kind, Mister! I was scared that I would never be able to get this thing back, haha.”

“May I ask how you ended up in this predicament? Did you find this stag dead?” He queried.

“I shot this stag myself,” she motioned her head to the rifle in her hand that he somehow managed to not notice until she pointed it out.

Hmm, must have been too distracted by her beauty.

“Ah I see. Please forgive me, Sweetheart. I didn’t notice your gun. And might I also ask about this contraption?” He pointed to the device.

“Oh! I just threw it together, I thought it would make it easier for me to move this damn thing, but it did nothing,” she glared at it.

Alastor shook his head, “You ladies are quite clever, far more clever than men. But sometimes, however, you need a man’s strength,” he said while easily lifting the large animal over his shoulder.

She blushed, marveling at him, at how strong he was, “I can’t argue with that.”

She led the way to her house, making small talk.

“So, what’s your name, Mister?” She asked, smiling softly.

He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten to introduce himself, his mother would scold him if she was here.

“Alastor. Alastor Hartfelt. And what might your name be, my dear?”

“Y/n Rosier. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alastor!”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady. I assure you that the pleasure is all mine,” he replied.

Y/n blushed, she had rarely been called beautiful by anyone outside of her family.

“You’re quite beautiful, yourself! I’ve never seen anyone with such a pretty complexion before, and your eyes, they’re such a lovely light brown, not to mention your chestnut hair…did I just say that out loud?”

Nice going, Y/n! You probably freaked the gorgeous man out!

Alastor was the blushing mess now, his heart pounded inside his chest. He even nearly dropped the deer.

Me? She thinks I’m beautiful? Why does that make me feel both so happy and shy at the same time? Pull yourself together, Alastor!

But he quickly regained his composure, “You did, haha! Thank you, my dear, most people don’t compliment my appearance.”

“Well, they should! Such a handsome man deserves to know it.”

They continued to converse. He told her about his mother and her cooking, how there was no one who could make better food. She told him how she had to do all the cooking and housework, because of how frail her mother was.

She talked about her three little sisters, how much of angels they were. Though she admits that it’s hard having to act almost like their mother.

“I’m their big sister, not their mother. I just sometimes wish that Mama would feel better enough one day to actually be our mother again. That’s a terrible thing to say, isn’t it? I’m sorry for going on about my problems.”

“No, your feelings are valid. And you’re correct, you’re not their mother. I understand your frustration. My mother sometimes treats me like I’m still seven years old.”

“Are you her only child?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s it then. You’re her baby! Of course she doesn’t want to let go of your childhood. But I also understand your frustration.”

He knew that. But it was nice hearing out of her mouth, she made it sound all the sweeter. He loved his mother. She was a kind soul, not a gentle soul by any means, but a kind one. Y/n seemed to be both kind and gentle.

“I want to be my Mama’s baby again, but I haven’t been that since the first of my little sisters were born,” she looked thoughtfully out into the distance.

“Well, one day you’ll have a husband to take care of you.”

“Yes, until I have a baby and then this whole thing will just repeat itself.”

“You don’t have to have a baby.”

“Hmm, what do you mean?”

“You can be married without having to have children. I know if I ever get married, unless my wife really wants children, we’ll probably never have them. Not that I don’t like children or anything like that but I can’t see myself as a father.”

Y/n stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. But then she smiled, “I don’t want children either! I wish more men thought like you, Sugar. But I know once I get married, I’ll be expected to birth many children and keep my husband’s blood line going.”

Alastor looked at the tops of the trees, “That’s the thing, I couldn’t care less about ‘continuing my blood line.’ In fact, I think it should just die with me.”

“Why?”

“I hate my father.”

“Oh. I didn’t care for mine either.”

Y/n then changed to more lighthearted topics. Going on about her hobbies outside of doing housework. It turned out she played the piano and sang just like he did. Of course, her piano was an old hand-me-down going back generations. But it played just fine.

His heart wouldn’t stop pounding as walked beside her. He was so charmed by her. Her looks, her kindness, the way her nose wrinkled up when she laughed. It was actually kind of overwhelming. Sure, he interacted with beautiful women before, but something was different about her.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was almost like she had bewitched him in the best possible way.

Little did he know that she was equally as charmed by him as he was by her. She loved the formal way he spoke, how much of gentleman he was, how bright his smile was. It gave her butterflies in her stomach.

Finally, they reached her house. It was a one-story cabin with a little picket fence surrounding it. Suddenly, three adorable little girls came running to Y/n. She got on her knees and embraced them.

“Why were you gone so long, Y/n?”

“We were worried.”

“We missed you.”

“I know, I know I was gone for far too long! I missed you little ones too,” a motherly tone in her voice.

Alastor smiled, “What cute little girls.”

They looked up at him and then back to their older sister, their eyes asking if it was okay to talk to him.

“My little darlings, this is Mister Alastor. He helped me bring home that big stag,” she pointed to the dead animal.

They turned to him and smiled, “Thank you, Mister Alastor!”

“It was my pleasure, dears.”

Y/n got up, “Come on, I’ll show you where to put the deer,” she turned to him.

She led him to a shack behind the house, it was full of tools for gutting and skinning. In the middle was a table, she told him to place it on there.

“I cannot thank you enough! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to feed my family. Thank you so much, Alastor!”

“Please, Sweetheart, again it was no trouble at all! I’m glad I could be of assistance to you and your family.”

The tallest of the little girls came up to him, “Excuse me, Mister Alastor. Will you be joining us for dinner?” Her eyes full of sweet innocence.

Y/n’s face lit up, “Yes, why don’t you join us! It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

“Thank you kindly for the offer, but I have to get home to my Mother. She’s also counting on me to get dinner home,” he motioned to the sack tied to his belt, “Perhaps another time though?” He looked from the little girl over to Y/n.

“Of course! Stop by anytime! You’re always welcome here now,” her smile couldn’t possibly be any sweeter.

Alastor tipped his cap, “Adieu, my dear. And adieu to you, little dears.”

“Adieu, Alastor!” Y/n waved to him.

“Adieu, Mister Alastor!” The little girls said in unison, waving their little arms.

I hope I see him again soon.

“He was handsome, are you going to marry him, Y/n?” Her littlest sister asked.

“She’s not going to marry someone she just met, Louise!” The middle one said.

“Now, Marie don’t shout at Louise. But no, I’m not going to marry him.”

“Awww. You two would be so cute together!”

Y/n pinched the girl’s cheek.

“Annalise, come help me prepare for supper.”

“Yes, Y/n!” The oldest came running to her big sister’s side.

Alastor got home just before sunset, much to the chagrin of his mother.

“Boy, you better have a good reason for being home so late! I was getting worried,” she looked at him sharply from her rocker.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I brought home some rabbits for dinner,” he kissed her cheek.

“It took that long to catch some rabbits?” She said teasingly, taking the sack from her son.

“I met a girl,” was all he said before going upstairs to wash up.

———————————————————————

Alastor lay awake in his bed that night. He stared at the ceiling, counting the wooden panels. He often had insomnia that caused him only to get three to five hours of sleep.

“Y/n,” he whispered.

I wonder if she has trouble sleeping. Or is she someone who sleeps like a baby? I wonder if she snores, I bet it’s cute if she does.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He had just met her that day but already she was causing him to lose sleep.

Is she a side sleeper? Would she mind if wrapped my arms around her waist and hold her close? What if I stole a kiss or two? Would she wake up with an adorable annoyed face?

Alastor grinned just thinking about what it would be like….

What if I kept kissing her all the way down from her lips to her neck? Would she moan at the sensation? What if I nibbled and sucked at her neck? Would she like it? I bet she would. I bet she would beg for more.

What a sight that would be. But he had to stop such thoughts, since did not feel like cleaning his sheets the next day.

He turned to more wholesome thoughts. Like what kind of food did she like? Would she like it if he cooked for her? Did she like venison or did she just hunt it out of necessity? Does she like jambalaya?

What a silly question, everyone in Louisiana likes jambalaya.

He thought about what it would be like coming home to her everyday. Her sweet smile, her warmth. Her wonderful laughter.

“Alright, I have to see her again soon. Or else I’m going to go mad.”

He decided to visit her next week, he figured it would be enough time in between. He didn’t want to come off desperate.

Finally, he rolled over on his side and managed to get a few hours of shuteye. In the morning, his mother would shake him awake and tell him to get ready for church. Then he’d tell her that he’s a grown man and doesn’t have to go to church. She would then do the sign of the cross, and cry out to the Holy Mother to please bring her sweet little boy back.

He loved his mother a lot, however the devoted Catholic side of her was something he could do without. But of course he would go to church with her, because again he loves her. And would do anything for the people he loves.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! A lil Sirius request or u could do it with one of the other boys (Remus James) but what about if his gf May be has an old injury that always flares up? (I hurt my knee years ago and even tho it's ok now every once a while if I over use it then it still hurts) and just fluff about her being upset her body won't cooperate and him just icing it and doting on her

Thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 618 words

“Try to get up one more time,” your boyfriend threatens, “and I swear to god I will sit on you.” 

“I just want the remote.” 

“And I’m getting it for you.” Sirius stretches towards the coffee table, keeping the ice pack held to your knee with his other hand. He grabs the remote that had been too far for you to get on your own, passing it to you with an exasperated look. “Relax, sweetness, you won’t miss your show.” 

“Thanks,” you huff, turning the TV on. Really, you just want the distraction. Your knee is still radiating a warm ache, your skin still prickling from the humiliation of having to admit it when Sirius had noticed your limp. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, voice quieter than usual. His touch is gentle as he adjusts the ice pack, careful not to press down too hard. You feel shitty for being snippy with him, and resolve not to speak until you can be trusted to do it nicely, in the way he deserves. 

It doesn’t work. Sirius is watching you, gaze shrewd, fingers tapping a distracted rhythm on your ice pack. You keep your eyes on the TV, but it’s only a matter of time before he speaks up. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “For acting pissy when you’re pissed? Don’t worry about it.” 

“I don’t have to be mean to you just because I’m pissed,” you say, tilting your head back on the couch cushions. “I just feel like I should be able to run a couple of blocks without crippling myself. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls sympathetically. He brings his free hand to your hurting leg, rubbing up and down the back of your calf. “We did a lot of walking before, too,” he points out. “It was a big day.” 

“That’s just it.” Your mouth tastes bitter. “I’m not eighty years old, walking around shouldn’t be a big day for me.” 

“I know, baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, it’s shit. But when it’s cool out like this, and you’re putting a lot of pressure on your knee, you’ve just—you need to treat yourself a bit more gently.” You make a sour face, and Sirius squeezes your calf, lips slanting upward. “I know, you’re very rugged. You’re the picture of youthfulness and good health. But try looking after yourself the way I look after you, yeah? For my peace of mind.” 

He speaks with blasé lightness, but his words melt you like butter in the sun. You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance. “But you’re so good at it,” you complain. 

“It’s hard work, yeah.” Sirius’ canines peek out as he grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you up. You’d really be helping me out, taking a load off. And it’d free me up to do more things like this.” 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans down, dark lashes fluttering prettily close to his brow. Your cheeks heat. Sirius moves the ice pack momentarily, pressing a featherlight kiss to the skin just below your knee. 

“There,” he says decisively, putting the ice pack back in place. “It’ll be better by tomorrow now, guaranteed.” 

You bite down on your lip to keep a smile at bay. “I didn’t realize how much you’d be able to accomplish if we shared the responsibilities.” 

“Yes, well, I know I make it look easy, but it is a lot,” Sirius tells you with faux solemnity. “Is there anywhere else I should see to?” He makes a show of looking you over. “Tsk, that lip looks to be hurting, too. C’mere, gorgeous, let me take care of that.”

[painted-bees]

“It isn't for you, it's because of you.

Because of you, I can finally do this for myself.

Because I want to.

Because I trust you with it.

It's all because of you,

and I'm so fucking thankful.”

-- [Jan 28th, 2014] The weather had conspired against him.

Or perhaps it was trying to protect him. Either way, the cold snap that washed over Vancouver on this sunny January afternoon was perfectly timed to ruin the months of careful planning, frivolous spending, and emotional safeguarding Raf had done in preparation for the performance today. It was as though the sky had opened up to release every breath of warm air that the previous weeks of relentless overcast had, until now, valiantly sealed in.

 To make matters worse, Raf couldn’t turn to Margie for consolation about it. She didn’t know anything about a performance happening today, and it needed to stay that way until at least 6 pm. Her distractible nature had been a huge blessing for him during the past long months of preparation and rehearsals, and this was the last day he'd have to work behind her back. He was thankful for that. Tess had whisked her out into town this morning under the pretence of finding a suitable birthday present to ‘surprise’ him with. It was an effective ruse to keep Margie busy and secreted away from him while he fulfilled the final preparations for the day’s event.

  He was half expecting to arrive at Jack Poole Plaza only to be met by an unfortunate orchestra representative tasked with dispensing the bad news of postponement due to the unusual cold. Instead, the venue was abuzz with activity, warmed by the familiar din of pre-performance energy.   Or rather–it was the arrangement of outdoor heaters that kept the temperature surprisingly manageable in key locations across the venue. That was one of the expenditures Raf had considered “a frivolous necessity” when he committed to it, and it was certainly paying dividends today. 

  “Raf!” The sound of Nels’ voice as he approached was every bit as warm as the heaters. “Boy, you sure picked a day, didn’t you?” As the older man closed the distance, one of his large hands clapped down on Raf’s shoulder with an amicable jostle.

  “Well," Raf said, "no one called to postpone.” Genuine disbelief coloured his tone in a manner that wholly undermined his attempt at a half-joke.

  Nels barked a laugh, “Bah! Over a little cold? No chance. But snow?” He held up a finger, “One snowflake hits that pavement and the whole city' in shut down” He looked up at the sky, wincing against the sunlight. “Thankfully not a problem today!”

  Raf offered a small smirk that bordered on a grimace. “It’s not great for the instruments, though.”

  “Cold feet?”

  “Cold everything.” 

  Nels held him with a gentle but uncompromising gaze. “Train’s already moving, kiddo. Can’t stop now.”

  Turning his eyes towards the stage with a relenting sigh, Raf began making strides across the vast concrete venue towards it. “Outdoor concert in the middle of winter was a terrible idea. Why didn’t anyone stop me?”

  “I recall there was an attempt,” Nels said, “But, ah…You had a clear vision, a convincing argument, and a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, I’m also insane. Nels, I hate crowds, I hate public events. Why am I hosting one?”

  “You love the audience and,” Nels’ hand found Raf’s shoulder again, halting him before the stairs leading up to the left side of the temporary stage set-up. “You love Margie. That’s the kind of insanity that drove all this. She adores this sort of thing. She’s gonna be beside herself. Inconsolable, even. And you know that. That’s why you’re doing this.”

  “Mmh.” That was a swing and a miss, but Raf had no desire to engage in the pedantry dissecting his own mercurial motivations, and so, he was content to leave it there.

  Recognizing the full stop in Raf’s voice, Nels clapped his hands together and led the way onto the stage. “Well-! Things here are looking and sounding well on our end. Security’s all set. It’s not going to be a flood of people all at once but, as you can see,” he gestured out towards the plaza, “We’ve already got a population of curious loiterers. We’re wrapping up the last of the sound tests. Speaking of–!” 

  Nels turned his attention to the microphone set up at the front, centre of the stage. Raf intended to follow, but paused at the sight of Naomi making her way over from the other side. She made he way in brisk strides, holding out her open palms in a gesture both of greeting and surprise. 

  “Ooh, you showed up!”

  Raf regarded her with a lopsided smirk and a curt, upward nod of his chin. “Was I not supposed to?”

  She rubbed her hands together and squeezed the fingertips of one hand in the palm of her other. “Dunno, Ephrem. How you feelin' about it?”

  “Trying not to,” Raf admitted. “But it’s mostly fine. I’ve got Kill Bill sirens going off in my head a bit. First time I’ve ever managed something like this myself, but I am managing, so–” With a Super Mario-pitched voice, and a weak upward pump of his fist, he concluded, “Wahoo.” An aptly appropriated Margie-ism.

  “Man, shut the fuck up. You ain’t managing nothin’ yourself this time, either.” She scoffed loudly. “C’mon I ain’t out here at bitch o’clock in balls degree weather doin’ this shit just so you can tell me you ain’t got no help. Be for real.”

  “That’s not what I–”

  “I know,” she gave him a playful scowl before throwing her hands up in an exaggerated gesture of arrest, “I’m playin’! Jeez, Eph, control your temper, chill. Damn, why you always gotta be yellin’?”

  “Boy, I’m going tah rip your face off.” His stiff posture, quirked eyebrow, and uncharacteristic transatlantic accent delivered his threat with all the seriousness he intended.

  “And ruin your manicure? Girl, you’ll cry.”

  Their short drama play ended with a defusing snort of laughter shared between the two of them.

Thumbing her nose with a sniff, Naomi attempted some honest reassurance. “I think you did a pretty good job, all things considered. Hired the right folks for certain.” She grinned at the compliment as she paid it to herself.

  From their place in the corner of the stage, they both looked out over the set-up and across the venue. The stage itself was populated mostly with venue staff and Hi-Note technicians working in collaboration with each other to make sure things sounded great, looked great, and that no one would kill themselves on any of the countless cables that snaked across the floor.

  Beyond the stage, the last of the temporary barriers and crowd management measures were being organised and installed. Raf himself didn’t know what to expect in that regard, and had no option but to trust that the venue staff knew what they were doing. At the very least, a free admission orchestral event wasn’t new to them. One such concert had been hosted here in the summer, and just like that one, this event was advertised months in advance to draw out as large a crowd as possible. But he hadn’t been the one to advertise it. In fact, he had explicitly forbidden any mention of him or of a vocal performance at all. No, this was advertised in a manner similar to the summer’s concert. And indeed, the programme would be much the same–but it would end with his performance.

 Even as the staff set about their tasks, a budding population of curious doddlers seemed content to wander and wait around for something exciting to begin. It was a lot to hold in his head, and there were countless variables he had no control over–many of which relied on the cooperation of other people. Complete strangers. An overwhelming number of things could and likely would go wrong, and anything that went right would only do so thanks to luck. At least–that’s what his gut told him.

  It would be the first concert he’d perform, without Margie, in almost a decade. It would be the first performance without her that centred him since…

  Since Ephrem Records.   A chill unrelated to the cold forced him to shudder visibly, and he steadied himself with an automatic, curtly huffed sigh. This was not that. He had stared that beast directly in the eyes, he had walked into its horrifying, revenous maw and–

  He came back home. Safe. Sound. Completely unscathed.

  It–that–Ephrem Records and the nightmares within it had no control over him anymore. Though it had tried, it couldn’t keep him. That cage door had fallen off its hinges and would no longer close on him. It was a freedom he had had never in his life known before.

  Beside him, Naomi had turned her gaze to watch him. “Remember after Lacey ditched? How you said you weren’t never gonna get on stage for anyone anymore?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “You been cancellin’ shit all the time because you just ain’t gonna perform if you don’t wanna.”

  “Mmhm.”

  “But you’re here. Today. Like--your birthday’s tomorrow. You didn't wanna take it easy for that?”

  Raf turned his head to cast a very slight, wry smile down towards her. “Mmh, nah.”

 Her eyes lit up under the validating glow of his expression. “Nooo, see! I was gonna ask who you doin’ this for, really? But that shit eating grin–” a cackle punctuated her sentence. “This ain't for Margie. Is it?”

  Naomi’s laugh infected him well enough to let out a small snort of laughter all his own. “She'd hate it if it was. No, I just--wanted to see for myself if...Uh. This wouldn't kill me."

"I've been sayin', too, Margie ain't about seeing you freak out for her!" Naomi clasped her hands together and dipped forward in an elated gesture. "Well, you don't look like you're dying."

"Yeah--I don' think I will. "

–

  “Raf’s impossible to shop for. I don’t know what we were expecting to find.” Margie's conclusion arrived at the end of a long day spent following Tess around the whole, wide city in search of a gift for a man who placed very little value on material wealth. “There’s nothing we could buy that he couldn't afford himself. And it’s hard to put proper thought into it when it’s so last minute.” There was tired frustration in her voice.

  Savouring a strawberry frappe through a bent straw, Cortes remained wholly unbothered by the state of affairs. With a shrug, her free hand gestured to sign a sloppily composed, “Raf’s birthday gift can be all the friends we met along the way.” 

  Margie let out one of her conversationally reflexive little giggles. “Yeah, yeah! All none of them.”

  The sun had already begun to sink beneath the city skyline, and in its wake the clear sky was turning a shade of deep indigo. An already frigid day was turning into an even colder night. Too cold to be out walking along the seawall. Tess’s choice of a blended iced beverage was nothing short of absurd but, just like the failure of their gift-hunting quest, the freezing cold seemed to have no ill effect on Cortes whatsoever. While Margie’s breath hung like a ghost in the air and caused an uncomfortable moisture to collect on the fraying filaments of her scarf, Tess suffered no such inconvenience. Margie was bundled for warmth, but Tess wore her winter layers only for the aesthetic of it.

  Without looking at her, Tess signed with languid gestures, “We should probably head home, now. I’m getting bored.”

  Margie might have agreed, but something else tugged her attention. She grabbed Tess's arm to halt her. “Hang on, shh!” 

  A pause.

  A swell of string and brass carried itself on the chill ocean breeze. It wasn’t uncommon to hear music playing from the various shops and storefronts that lined the city streets, especially during the holiday months. But…

  “Does that sound live to you?”

  Tess appeared to listen for a moment longer before shrugging. 

  “It’s coming from the plaza.”

  Another shrug from Tess preceded an inquiring forefinger flopped with mild indifference towards the stairs leading out of the park, up towards the convention centre. 

  Margie nodded and shook Tess’s arm in her grip. “Yeah, I just wanna looksee!”

  With one last resigned shrug, Cortes allowed Margie to lead the way forward.

  As they crested the wide staircase, the plaza greeted them with an array of bright, warm lights and a buzz of activity. Margie immediately b-lined to read one of the standing signs that named the event to her.

  “Wait, no! What? This was today?” She turned a baleful gaze up at Tess. “We missed the summer one, so I was gonna tell Raf about this one. But I thought it was like–next month!” She gestured with both arms towards the banner sign. “Free concert! VMO! Tess! I’m so upset!”  Dropping her arms to her side, Margie slouched under the weight of her disappointment. “This woulda been a perfect birthday gift for him. Why did I think it was in February?”

  Tess’s hand came down gently upon the top of Margie’s head in a placating pat-pat. At the same time, an unfamiliar man’s voice addressed them from the side.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

  Glancing up, Margie watched the man approach, well dressed for the weather with a bright yellow and black jacket. “Genesis Security” was emblazoned in bold, white letters across the breast and shoulder. He wasn’t addressing her. The man’s gaze was locked firmly onto Tess.

  “Ma’am,” he repeated, “I've been instructed to show you to your seat, if you’ll please follow me.”

  “Woah...” Margie watched the guy's back as he began to lead the way forward through the plaza. "How does this keep happening to you?" It seemed that no matter where Tess went, there was always something special waiting for her. People treated her like a rock star, honored by her mere presence. Apparently, this was just another such instance.

 Shrug. Tess tapped on the shoulder of the security guard and locked eyes with him before pointing to Margie, then to herself, and then back to Margie again.

  With a nod, the guard responded, “I don't see why not. But let's hurry. Show's half done by now.”

  The guard made haste, Tess kept in stride, and Margie was forced to shuffle quite swiftly in order to keep up. As she did so, her hands fumbled around in her pockets until they found her phone.

  “I should call Raf, maybe he can make it in time if he’s still at Hi-Note!” Neither Tess nor the guard in front of her said anything to discourage the thought, and so Margie hit his name in on quick-dial and waited for him to pick up.

  Instead, she was immediately met with the robotic voice of his service provider.

  With a small groan of disappointment, Margie lowered her phone to send a text message, muttering under her breath, “Why is your phone turned off, you wiener?”

  The two of them were led through the well populated venue towards the very frontmost row of seating, where Tess was presented with two vacant seats.

  “Oh,” Margie took her seat next to Tess, “Raf wouldn’t have been able to sit with us, anyways.”

  Perhaps sensing the tinge of melancholy in her voice, Tess reached over to wrap an arm around Margie’s shoulders and pulled her in close. With a sigh, Margie nestled herself cozily against Tess and made the conscious effort to shift her attitude and appreciate the free show with her ever patient girlfriend. It was thanks to Tess that she got to see this performance at all–and with that thought, Margie was able to replace her disappointment for failing their day’s objective with thankfulness towards the present moment.

  The orchestra played an enjoyable, eclectic selection of compositions, most of which Margie couldn’t name. Perhaps the only one she properly recognized was the Star Wars theme, which stood out somewhat comedically against the others–all of which she had assumed to be classical pieces. 

  The final piece–or rather, what was presented as the final piece–was no doubt Tchaikovsky. She knew Tchaikovsky. Just…not well enough to name his compositions. But this was definitely him! To her ears, everything sounded beautiful. Had Raf been there, he might have identified nuances in the performance, both good and bad, highlighting them to her so that she might be able to notice them, too. There was a shared enjoyment between them for that kind of thing. In contrast, Tess was a remarkably stoic and quiet person to sit with when it came to anything involving live music. Her enormous, dark eyes stared unblinking as she listened; transfixed by the intricate braiding of sounds. Her long, lithe fingers twirled themselves repeatedly into the stray curls of Margie’s hair. It was a tiny, thoughtless, but comfortingly intimate gesture. Despite the best efforts of the late January weather, Magritte felt remarkably warmed.

  Tchaikovsky came to an end, and both she and Tess contributed to the roar of applause that persisted even as the musicians stood to leave, abandoning their instruments on the stage.

  Keeping with the applause, Margie leaned towards Tess’s ear. “Sit tight, there’s prolly gonna be a–oop, yep!”

  Her statement was confirmed before she even had time to finish saying it, as the musicians quickly emerged to retake their seats on the stage. As they did, Margie stopped clapping, waiting to hear if their encore was a song she could identify. As the rest of the applause died down, two additional figures took position onto the stage; a trio of previously absent musicians took positions on the stage. Or, at least–if they had been present previously, they were on entirely different instruments, now. Three electric guitars, one of which was a bass.

  Margie squinted at the rightmost guitarist and her bumblebee-yellow Kramer. “Oh, woah–is that Naomi? Tess, you see her!?” She couldn’t help but pick up an applause with an exhilarated whoop at seeing a friendly face among the cast of talented strangers.

  It worked to catch Naomi’s attention, and Margie was rewarded with an acknowledging little wave, bright smile, and a thumbs up.

  Clasping her hands together, Margie leaned back in her seat with a delighted giggle. “That’s so cool, this is gonna be so good!”

  A blanket of quiet settled upon the venue, and after a moment's pause, the orchestra’s instruments sprang to life once more. The number opened with a swelling whirl of notes that immediately swept Margie’s imagination into the realm of Broadway romance. And then–

  She heard his voice.

  A pleasing falsetto that wove itself beautifully into the airy strings, Margie knew who she was hearing before he had even walked onto the stage. One note was all it took.

I got inspired to post cringe, I hope you like it lmaooo About a year prior to these events, Margie and Tess had accompanied Raf to a very emotionally turbulent trip to Monaco. It wasn't a vacation, and it wasn't what any of them would describe as particularly enjoyable...Perhaps some day, we'll learn more about what happened there and why he went. One thing that did happen, on a very desperate whim, is that Raf had asked Margie to marry him. No real proposal--something asserted on the spot, motivated more by fear than anything else. Margie said yes, of course--but only on the condition that he ask her again once they were settled back home in Vancouver. She said--promised--she wasn't going to bring it up again unless he brought it up first; that there was no pressure for him to repeat the question once he was feeling comfortable and secure again. It's just--he seemed too emotionally compromised for Margie to really accept the proposal as one that was offered to her with soundness of mind. And so--to ensure that it was something he actually meant--she would forget it was asked at all, until he brought it up again on his own accord upon their return to Canada. No need to any special occasion, now jewelry, none of that--just ask the same way he did in Monaco...but without the undercurrent of panic coloring his judgement. They returned from Monaco safe and sound, and neither Margie nor Raf breathed a word about the Monaco proposal. Margie assumed Raf forgot--or perhaps he had come to his better senses and no longer felt like his well being and safety relied on lawfully locking down their relationship together. As she had expected would be the case. On the other hand, Raf had waited two months to see if Margie would bring it up at all, or if she'd stick to her promise and release him from the obligation of following through. To him, it seemed like she had completely forgotten; ss though he had never asked her to marry him at all. Unbeknownst to her, he hadn't changed his mind. The fact that she wouldn't so much as even allude to it for his sake only imbued further confidence in his decision. She had been with him through hell and high water, she was there in all the ways she promised to be, she gave him the space and the grace he needed, carried him through some of his lowest days, and kept him safe when he was certain no one in the world ever could. She loved him during his worst days, and shouldered his worst behaviors only because she loved being with him. She never asked him for anything spectacular. She never wished to see him spend the limit of his resources on her. She only ever wished to enjoy things with him--and his enjoyment was a critical part of that desire. Over the several years they had been together, one thing became abundantly clear; Margie deserved every good thing he could grant her. Margie could be trusted to receive his best efforts and his greatest gifts without ruin. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to give those to someone--to her. Because it felt right. Because he'd love doing so. Because she fucking deserved it. Performances had become pretty comfortable for Raf by this point. He, Margie, and Tess had been doing them on the semi-regular before certain events dragged him back to Monaco. Even his post performance PTSD episodes--while still present--were far more manageable than they had ever been. He no longer plagued with week-long emotional lows that greatly overshadowed the euphoria of a great performance. Things just felt...more balanced.

Enough so that Raf decided his proposal to Magritte would, itself, be a performance. Planned and organized by him, with the help of Hi-Note. If he could organize an perform a concert as a gift for someone he loved--without succumbing to abject terror and paranoia at any point during the months of preparation--well... That kind of freedom over himself would be the best gift he's ever received. And so--he planned the performance/proposal for his birthday. Margie watched the last half of the orchestra concert with Tess, having no idea that Raf would be the encore act. Tess, of course, had been in on it as a collaborator. She knew the guard would address her for the seating--they had met prior as part of the preparations. She and Raf both knew that Margie wouldn't find anything suspect in the fact that Tess would be spontaneously offered some kind of V.I.P seating. Tess's ridiculous, ambiguous "celebrity status" had basically become a meme between them at this point. It wasn't unusual... It was all planned. And everything played out pretty well according to that plan. Once Raf too the stage, Tess pulled Margie out of her seat and led her to the stage (exchanging a thumbs-up with Nels along the way). Margie followed along in good fun. By this point, she knew shenanigans were afoot--and slipped into her role very agreeably once Nels confirmed that, yes, she's expected on the stage. She was happy to play along.

The dance she and Raf "perform" wasn't any choreographed thing. Rather, it's the same kind of lackadaisical dancing they'd often do in their livingroom at home haha. And then...there was no more performance...just overwhelm and joy and a lot of love...and Kirby rings lmaooo which made her even MORE overwhelmed. And then the rest of the night was just one big overjoyed, emotional blur. Okay, I've typed too much...this is all very silly, but I made it so you can have the whole bunch of it! Bonus: The next morning, they woke up with a terrible cold...and spent the entire day recovering in bed lmao

(happy birthday, Raf lmao).

[msriri030]

Dad! Crowe x Mom! Reader

I was going to sad end, but i couldn't bring myself so simple and sweet one-shot

“Where is my handsome boy?” you cooed, stepping closer to the bed where your baby boy lay. His deep blue eyes locked onto you, and his tiny hands reached up with an excited gurgle.

“There you are, Hisham!” you exclaimed, scooping him up into your arms. A wide smile spread across your face as you leaned in and blew a playful raspberry on his chubby cheek.

Hisham squealed with laughter, the sound bright and infectious, while his tiny hands shot up to grab at your hair.

At first, you giggled along with him, but then your smile wavered as you realized something.

He wasn’t letting go.

“Hisham…” you said carefully, trying to gently untangle his fingers. But your little boy only giggled louder, tugging your hair with surprising strength.

“Okay, okay, let’s not pull, sweetheart—ow, ow!” you muttered, awkwardly trying to maneuver his grip without making things worse.

Hisham just cooed happily, completely unaware of your growing panic as his iron grip tightened.

“Alright, handsome boy,” you said nervously, glancing around the room for a solution. “Let’s play a new game… called Let Go of Mommy’s Hair!”

Laughter filled the room, drawing your attention to the doorway. Standing there, leaning casually against the frame, was your husband—Jericho, or Crowe, as you'd called him in your college days. Dressed in a sharp violet suit, he looked every bit as confident and dashing as he always did.

You pouted at him while he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Are you being a bad boy, Hishy?” he teased, his voice warm and playful.

Hisham squeaked in delight at the sight of his father, his tiny hands releasing your hair to reach for him eagerly. Relief washed over you as you smirked and held out the baby toward him.

“Yes,” you said with a mock glare, “and now he’s going to pull on your hair for laughing at Mommy.”

Crowe’s lips twitched into a grin, and he took Hisham into his arms, cradling him with ease. “Oh no, what will I do?” he said, his voice taking on a playful, dramatic lilt. He pressed a kiss to Hisham’s forehead, his love for the little boy evident in every motion.

Hisham giggled, instantly distracted as he grabbed at Crowe’s braid, tugging at them curiously. Crowe winced slightly but laughed, gently swaying him to keep him entertained.

As Crowe played with your son, you turned to the mirror, quickly fixing your hair into an elegant updo. But as your fingers moved, your eyes caught a glimpse of the faint scar running along Crowe’s neck—a painful reminder of the time you'd almost lost him.

Your breath hitched, and a pang of guilt settled in your chest. If only you’d gotten there sooner… maybe you could see who had done it.

“(Y/N),” Crowe’s deep voice broke through your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed him step up behind you until you felt his lips press softly against the curve of your exposed neck.

You gasped, your cheeks heating as his arms circled your waist. His lips moved gently against your skin, and then he traced along your neck with his teeth, making you shiver. Meeting your eyes in the mirror, his gaze was steady and full of love.

“Don’t ever forget,” he murmured, his voice low but firm, “that you saved me. I love you more than words can ever say.”

Before you could respond, Hisham let out a protesting wail, his little face crumpling into tears as he reached for you both.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Crowe sighed dramatically, giving the baby a mock look of betrayal. “Jealous already, huh?”

You both chuckled as you leaned in, pressing a kiss to Hisham’s pouty little cheeks. Crowe followed suit, covering his son’s face in kisses until Hisham sniffled and finally nuzzled shyly into his father’s suit, soothed once more.

“Alright, little man,” Crowe said with a laugh. “Let’s not steal all of Mommy’s attention, okay?”

“Haha,” you chuckled, adjusting the baby’s tiny bowtie before standing straight. “Well, we should start heading to the restaurant for dinner. We don’t want to lose our reservation.”

Crowe smiled at you, Hisham tucked securely in his arms, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you. Whatever had happened in the past, this moment was yours—this family was yours.

[reidology13]

I tell someone I love them (just as a distraction)

Spencer Reid x fem famous!reader

Summary: In the depths of his addiction, Spencer finds someone who needs an escape as much as he does. cw: talk of addiction, allusions to sex (no actual smut), angst no happy ending

Part 2 here!

Meaningless whispers of ‘I love you’ mumbled between laboured breaths and cold kisses in an apartment that doesn’t feel like mine. The sheen of sweat that coats his body is nearly constant these days, it has nothing to do with physical exertion. The glaze over his hollow eyes is the furthest possible thing from pleasure, although by now he might have his wires crossed. His face is beautiful, and I can see myself marrying it in another life, one where my chest isn’t as hollow as his cheeks. A life where I don’t have to ignore the fresh scars in the crook of his elbow as I pull his shirt off.

I am not in that world, and neither is he, a reality that I cannot grieve because this is what I asked for, what I have been working for since before I can remember. The parties that leave me empty and sick, the performances that start the moment I leave the stage, the new friends who tag along for my name. I love him because he doesn’t care about any of it, if only because he’s too high to care about much at all.

I don’t feel anything when I finish, I’m not sure he does, either. I watch as he disappears from my side, already scrambling to his bag, searching through it until he finds what he needs. He slips into the bathroom, finally taking his chance to feel something after the numbness of the night. He has his escape, he used to be mine. I wonder if one day the chemicals he defiles his veins with will stop calming his ever racing mind, or if I just need a higher dose.

When he comes back, I pull him close to me, dragging him back down into the bedsheets and sweat. It works this time, my skin alight with every electrifying touch as his fingers dance gracefully across my body. His hands shake as they move, a feeling that makes my nerves sing as a lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks to my stomach. He looks up at me with those brown eyes that would be so gorgeous if they held any emotion, anything but that violent hunger for a craving he should have satisfied moments earlier. He can’t up his dose as easily as I can, can’t pull his vice back to bed without the risk of never waking up. He doesn’t bother saying that he loves me this time, we both know it’s not true. Or maybe it is, but there are things he loves much more, and telling me he loves me debases one of the only pure things left in the world. I’m glad he doesn’t try this time.

He holds me afterwards, his trembling body not yet ready to stand up, or maybe he knows that the moment he does he’ll be back inside the bathroom. I turn my head away, and as he buries his face in my shoulder, I pretend I don’t feel the apology he mouths against my glass skin. He runs a hand down my upper arm, his touch tentative and light, scared that I’ll shatter into a million pieces. My heart does. If he knows about the tear that runs down my face, he ignores it, and I’m not surprised. Ignorance is what we’re good at, after all.

When I wake up, he’s gone, slipped into the early morning, or called into the job that he shouldn’t be doing in his condition. I crawl out of my cold, damp sheets, the disgusting aftermath of our night. The sick feeling that perpetually sits in my gut, loosening under him, twisting tighter under the sun of the next day. 

Slowly, I peel back the layers of sticky fabric, watching how they cling to my skin and each other as I force them into the washing machine. I turn it on.

Fresh sheets are laid out on my bed, sheets that haven’t yet witnessed the tornado of us, still clean and untainted by tears and sweat and words that never mean anything. I lay the sheet over the mattress, fighting to wrap it around all four corners as it perpetually escapes one, always sitting just slightly wrong. I place the pillows down carefully, fighting the urge to punch them like I’ve been wanting to punch his face every time he shows up at my door.

I can see myself marrying him in this world, too, getting him the help he needs and staying with him through it all. He would be able to be there for me when I need it, not an escape from, but support through the other parts of my life, a person to love and talk to about the hard things. But I know that is still impossible. One day, he will sober up and disappear, or I will be an uninvited guest at his funeral. There’s no option that ends well for both of us, the best we can do is take it as it happens and ignore everything.

I watch as the last blanket floats down over the bed, carelessly adjusting its corners. It looks exactly the same.

[thatdesigirl17]

concert

jess mariano x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, suggestive talk, jess and reader being possessive

haven't written in a long time so hope you like this, requests are open!

It was the weekend, the day of the concert for which Y/N had bought tickets for them weeks ago. When she heard they were coming to perform in Hartford, she knew she had to buy those tickets because Jess liked them. 

So they were driving to Hartford in Jess’s car and what Jess could think about was her, he had told her that already ever since he picked her up from your house and saw her outfit, a tight, black, short skirt with a cropped black shirt and heeled boots and to top it off, she wore a leather jacket, his leather jacket that drowned her. It made him go crazy for her, he always liked seeing her in his clothes, and it would always fuel his possessive nature. She loved seeing him like this, trying his best to control himself because of her and she was gonna make this harder for him. 

During the entire ride, he kept stealing glances at her, putting his hand on her thigh and being distracted until she came up with a deal, for him to behave himself and control his desires and she would stay the night at his apartment doing whatever and however he wants, a deal that Jess was more than happy to agree to. 

Jess parks the car right outside the venue as she gets off and waits by the front of the car for him, he walks over to her, a sly smirk on his face as he holds her hips, leaning her against the bonnet of the car. 

‘You made a deal, Jess.’, she says looking up at him, placing her hands on his chest. ‘Yeah and I’m just sealing the deal.’, he says smugly before leaning in and kissing her, his body trapping her against the car, pulling her closer his hands now encircling her waist. She kissed him back instantly her hands snaking up to his shoulders from his chest. He breaks the kiss, both of them breathless, ‘Back to behaving myself.’ 

They enter the stadium, the place packed and buzzing with people. 

‘This place is overly crowded.’, Y/N remarked as they entered. Jess looks around and nods, agreeing with her. It’s even difficult for them to move around without bumping into other people. He keeps a protective hand on her waist, guiding her through the crowd, his possessive nature unrevealing itself. They walk a bit closer to the stage, now surrounded by a mass of people all around them.

‘You alright?’, he asks leaning down, closer to her ear, to be heard from the noise of the crowd. ‘I’m fine.’, she replies nodding. Jess nods, relieved to hear that you're okay despite the crowded conditions. He keeps a close eye on the people around her, making sure no one accidentally bumps into her or tries to get too close. His hand stays firmly on her waist, his touch is possessive and protective. ‘Alright, but let me know if you feel uncomfortable, okay? I can try to make more space for you if you need.’ ‘And how will you even do that?’, she asks sarcastically, knowing that there is really little space for everyone to move around. Jess grins at your question, his eyes lighting up with mischief

‘Oh, I've got a few ideas…’, he shifts his position, moving even closer to her until his body is almost pressed fully against hers. His hand on her waist tightens its grip, pulling her against him even more, his body acting as a shield between her and the rest of the crowd. 'How's this? Comfortable enough for you now?’

‘You know the only thing I can see now is you, right? And we're here to see the band.’, she says, her tone feisty. ‘Like you’d want it any other way.’, he grins, teasing her, leaning towards her ear and whispering, his voice sultry. ‘You’re supposed to behave yourself.’, she says pushing him back slightly so that she can look at him. Jess smirks, looking down at her, his hands roaming up and down her sides, ‘I’m behaving myself…just making sure you’re safe and close to me. Don’t want you bumping into someone, now do we?’ 

She hums along, smirking, knowing exactly how much of a tease Jess can be when he comes to it. She pushes him away and moves slightly so she’s right in front of him, her back against his chest, and then takes his hand and wraps it around his waist, ‘How’s this? I’m all yours to keep safe and I can actually see the band.’ ‘Perfect.’, he smiles, planting a kiss on the side of her neck, pulling her closer to him. 

The place seems to have gotten more crowded in a matter of minutes as the band is about to go on stage. He feels the people around them press closer, the heat and proximity of the confined space only stirring up his possessive nature even more. He keeps her tightly held against his chest, his arms like a vice around her body. He mutters in your ear, his voice a mix of desire and frustration. ‘Damn, it's getting more crowded in here. People need to back off. You alright, Y/N?’ She nods in response, her hands placed on his jacket-clad arms around her waist. 

Jess fishes a cigarette out of his pocket, Y/N looking at him over her shoulder as she feels him move. ‘Needed a smoke to distract me. You're too damn tempting right now.’, he explains, pulling her flush against his chest as he leans forward, his other hand leaving his waist for a moment as he lights the cigarette with her still between his arms, the proximity making her breath hitch. He lights it, taking a deep drag as he tries to calm his frayed nerves. He lets out a plume of smoke, the acrid smell filling the air around them. He returns his other hand firmly to your waist, a possessive gesture. He keeps the cigarette between his lips as he takes another drag, the smoke wafting around them both. She takes the cigarette from his hands as she takes a drag herself, her body relaxing more against him, handing the cigarette back to him.

‘Damn it, you’re making this way harder for me, aren’t you?’, he mutters, looking down at her smoking his cigarette. ‘I would move, but there is no space.’, she smirks, shrugging. Jess's eyes rake over your form, taking in the way you're pressed tightly against him, the closeness making his possessive side even harder to ignore. He mutters under his breath, his voice a bit deeper, ‘Damn, you're right. There's no space here. I can't move, and you're too damn close. It's like I'm being tortured, having you this close but not being able to do everything I want to you. It's driving me crazy.’ She chuckles, her smirk growing wider, as she takes the cigarette from him again, taking another drag. She knew that it turned him on when she smoked and it was just another perk right now. She places her hand a little above her shoulder, for him to take the cigarette, but instead, he leans down, his head almost touching yours as he takes a drag, the cigarette still in her hands. The proximity only made her plan backfire. He takes a deep drag, the smoke swirling around you both before he moves his head back up. ‘You’re a damn tease, Mariano.’, she says looking up at him, her words making him smirk. ‘You’re the one to talk.’, he says smugly as the band finally comes onstage and the crowd breaks into a roaring cheer. 

Jess's head snaps up at the sudden sensation of someone bumping into her, his eyes narrowing as he looks over to see who it is. The possessive nature inside him flares up again, his arms tightening around her waist protectively.

‘Who the hell do these people think they are, bumping into you like that? Goddamn idiots.’, he says her voice irritated. ‘Crowds are so not your scene.’, she chuckles, rubbing his arm to comfort him a bit. He nods still eyeing people around them. ‘Jess, relax, we’re here because you love this band, not to play bodyguard, so enjoy yourself.’, she says laughing. He nods, loosening his grip ever so slightly as the band starts with their first song of the night. The sight of his favourite band starting to play makes a spark of excitement flicker in his eyes, she looks at him, smiling to herself as she sees him excited and happy. 

Jess watched Y/N, a small smile forming on his face, as she swayed to the beat, the sight of her body moving against his making his chest tighten with want, his eyes roaming all over her, as he mouths the word himself, tapping his feet with the rhythm. He leans down, his voice low as he speaks in her ear, his breath hitting against her skin, ‘You’re making this so hard for me. Moving like that when you’re pressed against me.’ 

A smirk forms on her lips, she says, leaning her head on his shoulder so that he can hear her through the loud music, ‘Just having fun.’, she grins as he sighs, her actions affecting him, her eyes flicker onto a group of girls nearby. They look at them, stealing glances, checking out Jess and giving her disgusted looks. She sighs, her possessive side coming out, as she leans in further, kissing his neck. 

‘Y/N…’, he says warningly, his grip on her tightening. She sucks and bites on his neck, leaving a mark on him, claiming him as hers. He inhales sharply, arching his neck to give her more access. She smiles against his skin, kissing his neck, moving upwards towards his jaw, leaving another mark there as well for everyone to see. He smirks and chuckles knowing exactly what she’s doing. ‘Really marking me up, huh?’, he says as she cups his cheek and kisses him, he kisses him back deepening the kiss as the band plays in the background. She breaks the kiss, panting looking up at him, ‘Now they’ll know that all they can do is only look at you.’ 

He smirks, as he looks around to see what she's talking about, ‘Jealous much?’ She rolls her eyes as he grins cockily. ‘Don’t roll your eyes, you were jealous.’, he says his grin widening. ‘Let’s just listen to the music’, she says, narrowing her eyes at him, and turning her attention back to the band. He chuckles as he returns his attention to the band as well. They spend the entire night vibing, dancing and singing along, while Jess also teases Y/N any chance he gets, loving to rile her up.

[misc-obeyme]

To my surprise, nobody sent me a prompt for Lucifer for Kinktober. I don't mind, that means I got to choose. But I was surprised that he was the character that didn't get a submission!

Anyway, I decided to try writing voice kink for this one. Lucifer just has that deep voice, you know what I mean? I dunno, it felt like a good choice.

I maaaayyyy have gotten a little carried away. It ended up kinda long. Also do I maybe have a thing for MC getting it on with demons at RAD? Nope. Definitely not. The only other time I wrote about MC getting sexy at RAD, it happened with an angel. Satan in the library doesn't count, that's like a given.

ANYWAY. Here it is, hopefully it's not too terrible lol. I really need to work on my confidence in my smut writing.

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Lucifer

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: voice kink, semi-public, fingering (reader receiving)

You wandered the halls of RAD alone, on your way to class. You were a little early, so you were taking your time. The other students moved past you, everyone absorbed in their own lives, not paying you any attention. For once there were no demons by your side. You would see them in class, but you happened to have this moment to yourself.

That is, until your D.D.D. began to ring.

You pulled it out of your pocket and looked at the screen. It was Lucifer. What could he want? You knew he didn't have a class right then. He usually spent this time working in the student council room.

You answered it. "Hello?"

"Where are you right now, MC?"

You frowned. "I'm in the hall at RAD on my way to class. Do you need me?"

"Yes." Lucifer's voice had dropped nearly an entire octave. "I find myself fully distracted by thoughts of you and I can't get anything done. I need you here so that I can make you come in real life rather than just in my mind."

The depth of his voice, the rumble of need beneath his words, sent electricity through your veins. You managed to side step a small group of students, moving quickly to the wall, certain that anyone would be able to see the flush that was now on your face.

"Lucifer," you hissed into the phone. "Couldn't you have chosen a better time to say that to me?"

You heard a smug chuckle. "Consider yourself excused from class. Meet me in the student council room."

You didn't even have a chance to argue with him because he had hung up. You stared at your D.D.D. in disbelief. While it was certainly like Lucifer to be bossy, it wasn't like him to condone skipping class. But there had been something undeniable in his voice, something that still made you shiver a little.

You considered going to class anyway. He couldn't actually be upset with you about it, since that was the responsible thing to do. But it was too late for you now and he likely knew it. He knew what saying that to you in that deep voice of his would do.

You quickly made your way to the student council room, the halls thinning of people as you did so. Classes began and soon enough you were completely alone.

You paused before the door to the student council room. This location was also an unusual choice for Lucifer. Was he really that desperate?

You opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark. Why were the lights off?

"MC."

You nearly jumped, but before you could turn around, there were arms around your waist. You felt Lucifer leaning in, his lips right beside your ear.

"Now that you're here, let us waste no time."

You shivered. But you also weren't about to let him get what he wanted so easily. You turned around in his arms and tugged on the jacket of his uniform. "What has gotten into you?" you asked, breathless. "It isn't like you to be so… needy."

Lucifer huffed and you could tell he was annoyed. You could only barely see him in the darkness of the room, but you recognized his familiar frown. "You say that as though it isn't your fault."

"My fault?" you demanded, but you didn't get anything else out because Lucifer had turned you around again. His hand was already down the front of your waistband, inching ever closer to your heat.

"I try to keep myself in check, MC," he said quietly in your ear. "Especially here at RAD. But there are times when I can't hold back. When I need you more than I need anything else in the three worlds. Would you deny me?"

His voice had lowered again, his desire causing it to become almost heavy.

You considered it. You knew that if you said no right now, Lucifer would let you go. That he would reign himself in, watch you leave the room and get to class, late though you may be.

You might have done that. But the truth was that Lucifer was just as much at fault as you were. And he knew it, too. He knew exactly what to do to make you crazy.

"As long as we're clear about whose fault this really is," you said.

Lucifer kissed the back of your neck. "You're right. I take full responsibility."

You were about to ask for that in writing when Lucifer's creeping hand finally found its way between your legs. You gasped at the feel of him, a gently teasing touch that made you want him even more.

"All I want is to make you feel good," Lucifer said, his voice still in that low register. The way he had you pressed against him allowed you to feel the vibration in his chest. "I don't believe that is too much to ask for."

You couldn't respond with anything other than a moan because Lucifer's fingers were moving more vigorously now, steadily increasing their speed and pressure. You pushed back into him because you weren't sure you could remain standing. Your hands clutched at his arms where they wrapped around you so securely.

"Ah," you gasped out. "L-Lucifer…"

"Come for me, MC," Lucifer said. It was practically a growl, one that you could feel in your own chest.

You let out a strangled sound, trying to keep yourself quiet here in the darkened student council room, as you came in Lucifer's arms. He held you tightly, keeping you on your feet, his lips on your neck as you squeezed your fingers into his arms.

It took you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself. You leaned on Lucifer as you did so, heart fluttering as you relished the gentle kisses he left on your skin. When he finally pulled his hand out of your uniform, you twisted around in his arms again. You made him suck in a breath by putting your hand on his obvious erection.

You smiled up at him in the dimness of the room. "Your turn."

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ Addicted to your kisses ♡

♡ Tags: Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, making out, pet names, praising, soft sex??, desk fucking??, idk what's acc happening rn, Reader distracting Dazai, p/without any/p? , might contain grammar errors, rushed drabble, cringe, etc.

♡ Notes: NEW FORMAT ?!?! But also srry for disappearing, school's already making me want to kms

Dazai had a lot to do this week, there were a ridiculous amount of documents and reports which had to be filled. He also didn't take a lot of breaks during all this, and the worst thing of all? Not being able to be around you. Not being around your sweet touches, your sweet voice and most of all, your addictive kisses. But it's probably better this way, he may be locked in his room at all times but atleast he's not getting distracted!

When you first found out, you were glad that he was catching up on stuff, but now it has been almost two days since you last been with him. Hell, you even started to get worried, so why not check up on him? Just a quick peak and small talk and then leave him be? That was your original plan, trying not to get him overwork himself, which started off innocently. . Until you kissed him. It was just a quick kiss on the forehead, how did it escalate to this?!

"S–shit, i missed you so much, 'donna.", Dazai panted between kisses, while you were just eager for his lips to touch yours again. From this one kiss, it all started from one innocent kiss for most of the paperwork to lay on the floor and you sitting on his desk, with your arms around his neck as he made out with you passionately. You were so deep into it that even his tongue entered your mouth, fighting for dominance even though you're submitting to him. Dazai's hands are now on your waist, holding you close to him. "Did you miss me too?"

"Yes, i did. . a lot, 'Samu.", you answered his question, just the way he wanted it. "Your kisses are so addictive, darling, i just can't stop after one.", he explained while looking you in the eyes lovingly. You needed him so bad, it was even a joke anymore, and trust me, he could tell. "You want more, love?", he asked, you nodded once more, eagerly and excitedly. Dazai only smirked and slid of your pants, leaving you in your panties. He then unbuckles his own belt. You could see his obvious boner, getting more excited yourself.

Dazai just took out his dick and pushed your panties impatiently to the side, sliding into you immediately. When he was in fully, you let out a quiet whimper. After waiting for a few seconds for you to adjust, you gave him the sign to start. Dazai moved his hips slowly first, already groaning in pleasure while your whimpers turned into moans. His hands were still on your hips, his head now on your shoulder trying to stay quiet. "You feel so good, f–fuck. .", he grunted softly into your ear, only getting you wetter. Dazai's thrusts got faster as this went on, he himself started to whimper slowly.

"You're s–so pretty, I can't–,", Dazai started, getting cut off by his cock twitching so good inside you, that it he had to take a deep breath to continue. Dazai giggled drunkenly before continuing his sentence. "I c–can't control myself. But you like it, don't you? You l–like the way you have me wrapped around fingers so easily.", You arched your back as he trusted into you deep, letting out a slutty moan during it. "Y–you're such a good girl, I love you so m–much.", he whimpered softly, twitching a second time.

The skin slapping in the room got louder and sloppier, meaning that you and Dazai got closer to your orgasm. You placed your legs around his waist, resulting into him going even deeper than before. "D–dazai,", you whimper loud enough for him to hear. "Y–yes, my love?", he asked while lifting his head from your shoulder, smiling drunkenly at you, very slight drool rolling down the corner of his mouth. "C–can I get a kiss, p–please?", he just leaned in, kissing you again. As his lips smashed against yours, your back arched again. Dazai twitched once more before cumming inside you, both of moaning into the kiss while you came with him at the same time.

Letting go of the kiss, you tried catching your breath and Dazai pulled out a few minutes later, sitting down back onto his chair and leaving you still on top of his desk. "Did you finish your work, 'Samu?", you asked, while Dazai just laid on your thighs breathing lightly. "Not really,", he stated. "Then go finish it. You know what happens when you don't.", you warned him until you felt his warm breath get closer to your inner thighs. "Relax, darling, let me clean you up first, hm?", before you could protest, Dazai was already breathing towards your cunt's direction.

"—I can't leave you leaking our juices onto my desk, can I, 'donna?"

AHHH I ACC LIKE THIS !! ♡

♡ Random tags:: @soukokulatte, @rxyyyyy, @miloofc !!