#you'll probably never see this but ily

[cringaria]

gorgeous,

when the lake rests above the trees it's your sign: this is a dream you’ll remember in the morning. so pluck the leaves like golden bells swinging in the sun, tie them to your ankles, and stride your way across the chasm like the winged boy you’ll never be.

when you were younger you dreamed of flying, but now cliff faces make you dizzy so you weave your hands into chain link fences. october turns the world upside down once a year and it just happens to be today, so we're glad you're here. now pull yourself up by the hook in your chest and close your eyes. this song won’t sound the same next year.

[duhlore]

❛ THE NEEDY AND THE TOUCH-STARVED! 670wck/3.7kchars

PAIRINGS; touch-starved!c. kamo x reader, needy!t. shigaraki x reader

CWS; amab!reader, squirting, afab!characters, biting/scratching, vryy whiney shig, fingering, p in v sex, pussy slapping, virigin choso, breeding kink/ preg mention, lowercase on purpose, crying + overstim mentioned in choso's part, masochist!shiggy :333, not proofread lmfaooaoa ..

notes: i honestly got carried away w/ cho's part so he might not even be touched starved because im so sleepy..,.., but this is a 1 year anni gift for my poochie ily queen

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who can't seem to get enough of you, always trying to get your attention in some sort of way even if it wasn't verbally. always needing to feel your strong hands somewhere along his sensitive body, specifically his cunt.

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who easily gets wet at the feeling of your fingers teasing his entrance circling his tight hole— your thumb caresses his clit while he tries to pay attention to the game he's playing, a firm grip on the controller in his shaky hands as he tries not to drop it.

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who can't stop himself from letting out a loud mewl whenever you give his throbbing pussy a smack whenever he loses a match at mk, muttering something to him along the lines of ‘ pay attention, ’ or to ‘ stay focused, ’. although he wants to please you, it's so hard for the poor boy to concentrate when your thick fingers are pumping in an out of his slick heat at such a brutal pace that made him see stars.

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who instantly lets out a sigh of relief when he finally wins a game, knowing that you'll reward him for trying so hard (he lost like more than 10 matches cuz he couldn't focus..), leaning back into your embrace and grinding back against you for some sort of friction he desperately needed to feel, whining and whimpering like a mad man. NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who cums after just a few thrust, not even 6, wailing and babbling that he wanted you to keep going, that he needed your kids deep inside him womb. And by his nth orgasm he's practically screaming at the top of his lungs for you, not caring who or what heard him, the sound of skin against skin or the headboard loudly banging against the wall.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who's never had sex a single time his whole life, which probably was more than 150 years, but the second he sees you? slick is dribbling down his legs like a goddamn rainstorm. and god, does it feel absolutely amazing when you're finally inside of him, the feeling of your long and girthy cock plunging in his guts make his toes curl and his eyes roll back instantly.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who cums loud and so hard that he ends up squirting for the first time in his life, fluids gushing out of him and covering yours and his own thighs with his juices while covering his face with his arm out of embarrassment although you're reassuring him with soft and open-mouthed kisses along his neck and jaw, praising him about how good he's being for you.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who's biting your shoulder and scratching at your back hard enough to draw blood from the areas, clinging to you as if his life truly depends on it, tears beginning to sting at his eyes from his surprisingly good he felt from your cock rearranging his insides. TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who'd probably pass out from overstim after your nth round, sobbing lightly as his frail and trembling body falls limp in your warm hold, pussy squeezing your cock like a fuckin flesh light as he comes again, his tight heat wrapping around you so perfectly you can't help but follow soon after. TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who trails his hand along his own body, feeling your sperm leak out of him as soon as you pull out of him. And then he feels the light bulge in his stomach from how full he was with your children, a whimper slipping from his lips as he leaned back into the pillows, a content smile on his lips.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who's always so desperate to have your hands or fingers on him (or in him) after that night, always begging and pleading to have your cock nested inside of his tight little cunt or always feeling you up so you would do it back to him. He was practically yearning for your touch.

-

THE NEEDY AND TOUCH-STARVED men get what they deserve and always will— especially from you.

© duhlore,, do not repost or copy at all pls >_>

[squinch-depraved]

idea: schlatt and you trying some special sex chocolate and accidentally take way more than you mean to and the effects r starting to take place 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐏 anon

oh this is yuMMy. delicious. scrumptious, even. thank u to 🐏 anon for being my first ever ask ily mwah i hope this is good i've never used these chocolates before but i might have to 🫣

coming home from a long day to your boyfriend's empty apartment was not what you were hoping for. you were hoping to come home to him watching something on the tv, rotting on the couch in his usual comfy clothes, playing with his two sweet cats, and just waiting for you to get home. in your mind, he would have sprung up to greet you the second the door opened, gliding through the apartment to place a tender kiss on your lips as he picks you up and twirls you around. but the unnerving silence you actually did come home to rips you from your daydream before he can place you back down on the ground and gush about how much he missed you. the cats finally skitter up to you, meowing and trilling in a way that lets you know they're absolutely starved for attention (he's been gone maybe 20 minutes, probably). cooing at the sweet babies as they butt their heads into your legs, you pet them and settle in for the night.

after having changed into one of his shirts and deciding pants weren't worth the effort, you stumble into the kitchen to grab a snack. lucky you, your perfect boyfriend had left a plain gold box of 12 wrapped chocolates on the counter! no labels, other than a little logo in the corner, but a small note was stuck onto the top of the box, reading: "take ONE - be back soon toots" along with a heart. you sigh contentedly and tear into the box. you hadn't had much time to eat today, and you were sure your boyfriend who loved to spoil you would be fine with you having more than the allotted amount of mysterious chocolates. what's the worst that could happen, they're edibles? at least then you'll have a story to contend with ted's!

the first chocolate melts on your tongue, leaving an almost rosy flavor behind that you can't quite get enough of. you debate if this'll be worth the punishment, but the chocolate was impossibly good, so you decide to go in for one two three more before dancing yourself down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. feeling slightly warm, you lay down in the middle of your bed and put some random video on the tv, dozing off a few minutes later. your job was exhausting, he'll get the hint you're sleeping and come find you when he gets home to a silent apartment. see how he likes it.

but he doesn't come home to a silent apartment. whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, echoing down the hall from your bedroom's open door. his eyes immediately dart to the little gold box on the counter, eyebrows shooting up in an oh, fuck motion when he sees the four wrappers littering the surface. he quickly drops his stuff where it needs to go and pops two chocolates in his mouth himself, figuring he'll need help keeping up with you after how many you've had, before quickly walking to the bedroom. the sight that awaits him leaves him standing in the doorway for a while until he finally decides to wake you up.

you lay there, babbling in your sleep, random phrases about how good something feels and how close you were. mostly incoherent horny gibberish. your (his) shirt has ridden up a bit, panties visible and soaked as you writhe unconsciously, desperately trying to get friction from a pillow, the blanket, something, anything. it makes him smirk, and he watches you for a moment before sitting down and gently stroking your cheek.

"y/n," you hear. "doll, c'mon, i gotta take care of you." you slowly come to, and once you process that he's here, he's back, you jump him. pulling him down to kiss you before attacking his neck with little nibbles until he pulls away, a stern (yet amused) look on his face. "i told you one. ONE. piece of chocolate."

you hide your face in your hands. "what the fuck did you do to me, j?? i thought maybe they were edibles or something, but this doesn't feel like a normal high? i'm sorry, i know i shouldn't have eaten them now but oh my god, what did you DO to me? i feel like a feral, ovulating, cavewoman or some shit!!" you whine, earning a laugh from him.

"they're sex chocolates."

you move your hands and look at him. "sex chocolates," you repeat.

he nods.

"why the fuck wouldn't you say that??" you smack his arm.

he grins and replies, "thought the mystery would be sexy."

"i mean, inadvertently, yeah!" you sigh, amused and frustrated all at the same time.

he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. "i took two to keep up with you," he breathes into your ear.

you hook your legs around him and pull him as close to you as you can. "then let's go! c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you pant as you grind up against him, groans spilling from his lips. "fuck me! touch me! something, j, please, i'm begging you," you plead, kissing him frantically all over his chest and neck. hands exploring under his sweater and dragging nails down his back, arching your back and moaning without him having to even do anything, he swears he's never been this hard.

the first time you cum, it's from his head between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit and sopping pussy like a man deprived of water for days. he keeps going until you're crying, begging him for another kind of stimulation besides his thick fingers ramming in and out of you and his chops brushing against your purple-marked thighs. the second time you cum is also from his masterful mouth, and this time he listens when you say you can't take it anymore. he drags himself up to look at you, kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, and slowly pushes himself into you as you whine and squirm.

round one, he starts gentle, slowly working his way up to a medium pace, where he starts fondling your chest. once he really gets going, though, he's spitting on you, choking you, and rubbing your clit with his thumb all while pounding into you at an incredible pace. "so good for me, toots," he growls, fucking into you almost inhumanely now. all you can manage is a whimper. you cum once more before he pulls out and makes you suck him off til he finishes, grabbing your hair and guiding you up and down, and then really far down before cumming down your throat.

ten minutes of making out later and round two starts with him shoving you down, hands and knees, so he can shove himself into you from behind. something about the recoil of your ass makes his brain short circuit. he brings his hand around to your clit again and it's not long before you're screaming that you're about to cum again, and he smacks your ass so hard you know it's going to leave a mark and says, "fuckin' cum for me, you stupid slut. can't listen to directions but i bet you'll follow that one, huh?" through gritted teeth. you cry out and collapse as your fourth orgasm rips through you. he holds you up long enough for him to somehow speed up before filling you up with his pearlescent seed.

you both lay there for a second before he kisses the back of your head and pulls out, leaving to go get you some water and then help you to the bathroom. you make a mental note to always eat more than one of those chocolates and sigh, finally feeling satisfied.

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[cherrylovelycherry]

GIRLIE PLS, I request a boothill x gnreader tarte aux fraises along with leve soufflé

PLEASE PLEASE AND THANK YOU ILY

.note. HEYYYY, sorry for the delay anon. i already needed to do some heavy angst, so I did this in good time. btw, sorry if there is a typing error. hope you like it ദ്ദി(˵ -̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises and a soufflé."

Probably

pairing. boothill x gn!reader cw/genre. exes to something else, angst, slightly suggestive/nsfw, vomiting, mentions of vomit. synopsis. after “getting back” together, you find him almost making out with a girl full menu

Boothill caught you just in time as you stumbled through his doorway, his arms a steady anchor for your drunken sway.

"I recall you sayin' you'd be just fine without me, yet here ya are, standin' at my doorstep with those tipsy pretty eyes fixed on me."

It had only been a week since he’d left you. His hands gently rubbed your head as he guided you inside and settled you on his couch.

"There, there, you'll be alright."

He watched as you settled into the couch in the heart of his living quarters, your flushed features a stark contrast against the worn leather seat. The scent of alcohol permeated the air, a subtle hint of your earlier exploits.

A playful smirk tugged at the corners of Boothill’s lips as he moved to sit beside you, his arm resting casually on the back of the couch just behind your head.

He took a moment to observe you, admiring the effect the alcohol had on your usual composed demeanor, before a bemused tone colored his voice.

"Looks like someone had a little too much fun."

“But I can’t help but wonder,” he continued, a hint of teasing in his voice as his gaze lingered on the pink flushed on your cheeks. “How much of your decision to come here was influenced by the alcohol or maybe…”

He paused, his finger gently tracing the edge of your chin as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “By the fact that you missed me.”

The air between you thickened with an undercurrent of tension, the silence in the room magnified by the soft sounds of your breath. Boothill’s eyes never left your face, a mixture of amusement and curiosity in their depths.

His fingers continued to trace along your jaw, as if mapping out the contours of your features.

“Or perhaps it was a little bit of both,” he mused, his lips curving into a knowing half-smile.

The proximity of his body to yours was intoxicating, the heat from his proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest. His eyes, which had been locked on your face, flickered to your neck for a brief moment, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin there for a beat longer than necessary.

“It’s just... cute. Seeing you come here all tipsy and needing me,” He murmured, his hand moving to the back of your neck.

"Nuh huh, I just, just got the wrong department." You said, slurring your words a little, shuddering a little at his cold touch.

“Sure you did, darlin’.” He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the sight of you in your carefree, inebriated state.

His thumb tracing lazy circles against your flushed skin.

“No need to explain nothin’." He drawled, his fingers gently tracing the nape of your neck. ”I get it, you missed me.”

"Fuck you." You replied again, frowning.

Your mind was fuzzy, from the alcohol in your system.

This time, however, you leaned into his touch, as if it were soothing to you.

Oh, he was thoroughly reveling in this moment.

A soft, pleased hum escaped him as he felt you lean into his touch. He was thoroughly enjoying the shift in your demeanor under the influence of alcohol, the usual steel behind your words replaced with a more vulnerable, needy edge.

His fingers continued their slow, soothing motion against your skin, his gaze never leaving your face.

"You know," he said, his voice lower and warmer than before, "You're a lot more affectionate when you're drunk."

His other hand moved to gently tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to his view. “Looks like your tough exterior isn’t so tough tonight, hm?”

You mumbled something he couldn't understand.

As you moved away from his touch momentarily to straddle his lap.

"I hate you," you blurted out, almost as an incoherent mumble.

He had to bite back a laugh at the sight of you straddling his lap, your words and actions betraying your usual stoicism. You were a mess of contradictions tonight, and he was relishing every moment of it.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he heard your petulant words, the contrast between them and your current actions making his chest rumble with amused laughter.

"Sure you do, darlin’." He murmured, his hands settling on your hips, pulling you closer until you were pressed firmly against him. His fingers flexed slightly, giving a light squeeze.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, lingering on the way your hair fell haphazardly around your face.

His hands, still resting on your hips, began a slow, rhythmic motion, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against the fabric of your clothing.

"Always acting tough."

You let out a shaky sigh, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

Your eyes closed slightly. His touch was what you had been longing for. You just wouldn't admit it.

He chuckled softly at the sight of you resting against him, the way you leaned into him. It was such a small gesture, but it said volumes.

His fingers continued their steady, soothing motion against your hips, occasionally drifting up to the small of your back.

"I missed you…" You blurted out, slurring your words again, as you settled on top of him, closing your eyes completely.

The alcohol had drained you of all the previous energy you had in the bar.

His smile widened at your impulsive words. He'd expected a denial, an argument, anything but this. But here you were, drunk and honest, confessing that you missed him.

He moved one hand up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers burying themselves in your hair as he held you close, his other arm wrapping firmly around your waist to keep you in place.

"Feeling sleepy, huh?" He asked, his voice soft yet tinged with the same hint of amusement he'd been displaying earlier.

You just nodded in response, your eyes still closed and your breath warm against the crook of his neck. You felt exhausted, the alcohol numbing your senses and leaving you heavy-limbed and compliant.

He took advantage of your state to adjust you in his lap, shifting you slightly to make himself more comfortable. He could tell that you had fallen asleep, the steady rhythm of your breathing and the way you leaned into him.

He chuckled again, resting his cheek against your head.

The next day, you left, trying to be quiet.

You were embarrassed about what happened, that was clearly not your intention.

Your relationship was supposed to be over, so why come crawling back to him?

"Ugh, what an idiot," you thought.

You're supposed to be fine without him. You were calm and not needing to have someone by your side. Of course you were.

Right?

Right…?

No, you were not fine like that.

Try as you might, it was in vain.

A few days later, you sent him a message, late at night.

You wanted to call him, but you couldn't.

Oh yes, it goes without saying that you had alcohol in your veins again.

You sent him somewhat incoherent messages, but they all came to the same meaning; "why did it all end between us?"

His phone vibrated on his bedside table, jolting him out of his sleep.

Boothill reached for it, squinting at the bright screen in the darkened room. He felt bleary-eyed and disoriented.

As he read through the messages, his eyebrows arched up, a mixture of surprise and amusement playing on his face. He wasn't expecting to hear from you, let alone under these circumstances.

"What the…" he muttered, reading through the somewhat incoherent texts.

He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on the screen, running a hand through his hair as he clicked on your name.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment, debating whether to respond in kind.

Eventually, he gave in to curiosity.

He hit the call button and brought the phone to his ear.

The phone rang once, then twice.

Each ring seemed to echo loudly in the silence of the night.

He waited, wondering if you would answer or hang up on him.

Finally, there was a click.

"We were doing so well,"

Your voice was unsteady when you picked up, your words slightly slurred.

He could almost picture you, probably sitting alone somewhere, alcohol coursing through your system. It was a familiar sight, one that both annoyed and amused him.

"Hey there, darlin'."

Boothill let out a soft sigh, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

The mere fact of the nickname made you frown, feeling your vision blurred by stupid tears.

At your silence, he continued.

"We were doing so well, huh?" he repeated.

He couldn't help the sardonic tone, though there was a hint of resignation in it.

He leaned back further against the headboard, his phone held between his ear and shoulder.

"Is that why you're drowning yourself in liquor right now?", he stated bluntly.

You fumbled to find the right words, your brain slightly mush.

He was right and you hated that.

"I just…"

You stopped, feeling your throat getting tighter.

The tears finally fell, your cheeks wet but your eyes dry.

You swallowed a sob with difficulty.

His words felt like a shot through what little remained of your buzzed brain.

It was a direct hit on the reasons for your current state.

"It's not…", you answered, trying to compose yourself, to sound like you were at least slightly less drunk than you currently were.

But it was futile.

Your voice trembled, betraying your true condition.

"You left," you said, your voice breaking slightly. "Shit."

"You said you would never do it." You stifled a sob. You were upset, he was a liar and selfish for ending something perfect.

Boothill winced slightly at the sound of your cracking voice.

There was a pause on his end, his expression shifting.

He wasn't expecting you to sound so… broken.

He had expected anger, maybe harsh words.

Not this.

Not the genuine heartbreak in your voice as you spoke.

His jaw set slightly, his grip on the phone tightening.

His voice was low when he spoke again.

"Why are you send me messages, then? If you're just goin' to blame me for leavin'."

Your accusation hurt him, but it was not far from the truth. He had said many times that he would never leave.

And yet he did.

You sniffed, wiping away the tears on your cheeks with a shaky hand.

Your chest felt tight, and your throat ached from holding back the sobs that threatened to spill out.

The alcohol in your system didn't help.

It made everything more intense, your emotions raw and unfiltered.

"I don't know," you admitted, the words coming out in a frustrated half-sob. "I don't know. I miss you and it's your fault."

The truth in your statement was bitter, a stinging reminder of your current vulnerability.

The words hung in the air, echoing a truth more profound than you wanted to admit.

"It sucks," you continued, your voice still trembling.

"It sucks that I still…"

The rest of your sentence was lost in another sob.

His expression softened, his tone shifting from defensive to something more vulnerable.

"Still…?" he prompted, his voice low and soft.

He hadn't seen this side of you before, the raw pain and vulnerability laid bare by the alcohol and the late-night call.

It was a far cry from the tough exterior you normally projected.

You stayed silent, you felt like you were throwing a tantrum like you were a little child.

He let out a heavy sigh, a hand running through his hair.

"You don't know what you're sayin'."

It was a weak attempt to deflect, to push back against the truth of your words.

His comment about not knowing what you were saying stung more than it should have. It felt like a dismissal, like he was trying to downplay your feelings as nothing more than booze-fueled ramblings.

But the thing is, you did know what you were saying.

You heard his voice, softer now, the usual teasing edge absent.

It pissed you off.

"Shut up," you replied, your own voice shaking.

Your tears continued to flow, your eyes stinging and your vision still blurred.

"Stop trying to dismiss it," you continued, your voice rising slightly, "Stop trying to act like it doesn't matter."

His jaw clenched as your voice rose, the frustration in your tone cutting through the silence.

He'd never been good at dealing with emotional outbreaks, much less drunk ones.

The tension in your voice, the pain and anger in your words — it all hit him like a gut punch.

"I never said it didn't matter," he countered, his voice tight.

"But you're not in the right state of mind, darlin'. You're drunk and upset—".

And again, minimizing your words just because of how you were currently.

Immediately, before he could continue speaking, you interrupted him. "You're a fucking idiot." You said, before hanging up the call.

You wanted to throw your phone, but you stopped before doing so. Allowing yourself to sob without holding back any emotion.

The sudden silence after you hung up was deafening.

He looked down at his phone, as if staring at it would make the situation better.

It didn't.

He swore under in his mind, tossing the phone on the bedside table and clenching his metal fists in frustration.

Your words echoed in his head.

He was used to your sharp tongue, your retorts and banter.

But something about hearing those words now, in that tone, was different.

He stay there, staring at the ceiling, the silence of the night mocking him.

The entire conversation felt like both had ended your relationship again.

He sat up well, the blankets pooling around his waist.

He was torn between anger and guilt.

Anger at your words, your drunken honesty.

Guilt for the part he had played in this, for the choices he had made that led to this moment.

He reached for his phone again, his finger hovering over the screen.

He wanted to call you again. To try and fix it, to apologize or to do something.

Then he put the phone back down.

It was no use.

Not now. Not like this.

Approximately two days.

Two days in which you fought with yourself to not let yourself be trampled by your feelings.

A shame your will wasn't strong enough for this.

The taste of a good whiskey made everything better, or at least made you feel brave.

With the little reasoning you had now, you couldn't help but think about your pride, which right now, by doing this, was at its limit.

Yes, you knocked on his door again.

Your somewhat messy hair, your cheeks pink from the liquor and your somewhat glassy eyes were the first thing he saw when he opened the door.

He couldn't believe it.

There you were, standing before him again, a few days later, looking as disheveled as the last time he had seen you.

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Your disheveled appearance, the flush on your cheeks, and the glassiness of your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

He hadn't expected you to show up — not after your emotional fit over the phone.

He felt a pang of guilt at the sight of you, knowing he was partly to blame for your current state.

The sight of you shouldn't affect him as it did, yet it did.

"Come to yell at me again?", he drawled, his gaze roaming over your face.

The sight of you standing there, clearly inebriated, stirred a cocktail of emotions he couldn't quite place.

There was annoyance… concern… and something he didn't want to acknowledge.

Your face contorted in a mixture of irritation and frustration, your mind foggy.

You didn't know whether you wanted to yell, cry, or throw something at him.

Maybe all at once.

But the sight of him, his slightly tousled hair, his disheveled shirt, his tired eyes, it softened your expression a bit.

But his sarcastic remark made the irritation flare up again.

"Yell?", you repeated, your voice carrying a hint of slur.

Your eyes narrowed, a hint of hurt behind the drunken haze.

You met his gaze, your gaze unfocused but unwavering.

"No," you replied, your response coming out more as a slur than a clear answer.

You swayed slightly on your feet, leaning against the door frame to stay upright.

You felt exposed under his gaze, the effects of the alcohol making you more vulnerable than you'd like, and yet, it also made you feel emboldened.

"You're a bastard," you responded, your voice slightly slurred, "A selfish, seelfish bastard."

The words slipped out, fueled by a mixture of emotions: anger, hurt, and that damn thing you hated—that lingering feeling of affection that didn't seem to go away, no matter how much you tried to drown it in liquor.

His expression hardened slightly, his eyes narrowing at your accusation.

He took note of the way you swayed on your feet, the slur in your voice, and the glassy look in your eyes.

Everything screamed "drunken emotional outburst".

"And you're a mess," he retorted, his voice flat.

His gaze moved over your disheveled appearance again.

Your cheeks flushed redder, anger and humiliation mixing with the alcohol in your system.

"Oh, I'm a mess, am I?", you shot back, your voice rising with emotion.

You stepped closer, close enough for him to smell the whiskey on your breath.

"What right do you have to criticize me when you're the one who left? Left me with nothing but a bunch of broken promises."

Your voice cracked at the last part, the vulnerability seeping through despite your drunken bravado.

His expression remained neutral, though a flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes at your words.

He knew where this was going.

He had seen you in this state before — emotional, inebriated, angry.

But this time it was different.

He stayed silent for a moment, the tension between you two palpable.

He didn't know what to do with this side of you — the raw, hurt you.

"Maybe I left 'cause bein' with you was like walkin' on eggshells," he retorted, his voice laced with irritation.

The words left his mouth before he could reign them in.

Your eyes widened slightly.

"Eggshells?", you repeated, your voice rising in pitch, "Is that what I was? A burden? A pain in the ass?"

His words were like a slap, stinging worse than you'd ever admit.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips.

"Right, blame me for everything, as usual."

You stumbled slightly, catching yourself on the door frame. Your voice was thick with sarcasm and hurt.

"It's always easier to run away than to stay and face the problems you helped create, isn't it?"

The vulnerability from before was gone, replaced by the protective anger that had been your default since he left.

You took another step forward, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"News flash, cowboy, relationships are not easy. There are ups and downs. You don't just up and leave because it gets messy."

His eyes narrowing, the guilt from earlier replaced by a mix of irritation and something else.

"Easy?", he retorted, his voice rising to match yours, "This wasn't about somethin' being 'easy' or 'difficult'. It was about being able to breathe. To not feel like I was bein' suffocated by a constant barrage of your-"

He cut himself off, his jaw clenching.

He'd already said too much.

The words cut deeper than he intended.

But...suffocated?

Is that how he saw you?

As a weight around his neck he wanted to get rid of?

"A constant barrage of my what?", you demanded, your voice sharp.

Your finger was still pressed against his chest, your entire body bristling with anger.

"Say it," you challenged, moving closer, "Finish the sentence."

Your eyes locked with his, searching for a hint of what he was leaving unsaid.

But your vision was still slightly hazy, the alcohol making it difficult to focus.

Yet your emotions, raw and unfiltered, were clear.

He let out a heavy sigh, as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Besides you don't just turn to liquor to escape reality," he retorted, his voice low yet sharp.

He didn't continue with what he was going to say, he just changed his words.

He knew he was walking on thin ice, but the situation, the alcohol pumping through your veins, the hurt in your voice, it all stirred a mixture of emotions he couldn't fully grasp.

"Coward," you hissed, venom in your voice.

His comment about your drinking stung, a sharp rebuke that hit a raw nerve.

Your breathing hitched as he mentioned your reliance on liquor, a sensitive point that he knew all too well.

You pulled your hand away from his chest, stepping back, your eyes narrowing.

“You're a fucking moron,” You began to blurt out, your insults tripping against your slow tongue.

'Coward' and 'moron.'

The words were like a kick to his gut, though he refused to show it.

"'Kay, that's it." He said, while trying to turn a deaf ear to your insults.

The irony wasn't lost on him, considering his past habits, but he was too defensive to acknowledge it.

He moved a little away from the porch of his door, grabbing it with one hand.

"And yeah, I walked away. 'Cause dealin' with your things was gettin' a lil exhausting, darlin'," he retorted, his tone sharp.

And, after saying that, he closed the door in your face.

He hoped that his words, which were not entirely true, would push you away and make you never come back to look for him.

The door shutting in your face was like a final nail in the coffin.

You stood there for a moment, stunned, the effects of alcohol and raw emotions swirling together in a toxic concoction.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Anger was the first emotion to surface, bubbling up like hot lava in your veins.

"Bastard," you spat at the closed door.

But then the anger gave way to a deeper, more painful emotion: hurt.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, the alcohol making your emotions harder to control.

He heard your insult through the door.

His hand was clutched around the door handle.

But he forced himself to stay put, to not open the door again, no matter how much he wanted to.

He knew he was being harsh, unnecessarily cruel. But the sight of you, a mess on his porch, filled him with conflicting emotions.

He heard your voice through the door, the anger and the hurt in your words clear.

The sound of you saying something, he assumed it was an insult or another expletive, only heightened his guilt.

But then, that damned sound came.

The sound of soft sobs filtering through the door.

He squeezed the door handle, the temptation to open the door and draw you into his arms was almost overwhelming.

Almost.

His jaw clenched, torn between his pride and the overwhelming need to comfort you.

He knew he shouldn't care.

He shouldn't open the damn door.

But standing behind it, listening to your soft sobs, was like needles pricking his nerves.

He could practically see your face, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy.

However, he forced himself to move away from the door.

You, you ranted, you insulted him in every way you could think of. Also releasing phrases like; 'I'm sorry', 'I hate you' and 'I miss you'.

Phrases that totally contradicted each other, not to mention that you continued to let tears soak your face.

By the time he slowly approached his door again, he heard nothing outside.

He sighed, mentally relieved that at least you're back at your apartment.

However, he was going to make sure that was true.

Because, obviously you were already in your apartment, right?

Right?

When he opened the door, his eyes went to the floor, there you were.

You had fallen asleep there, he assumed without energy from the alcohol and from crying.

He felt like shooting himself in the head out of guilt.

Your sleeping face, somewhat swollen and wet, was something that caused him displeasure. He hated seeing you like that.

He stood there, staring down at you.

Your breath was steady, face peaceful in sleep.

He knelt down, his eyes taking in your disheveled state.

A part of him wanted to wake you up and send you on your way.

But he couldn't.

You looked so fragile, so… broken.

He sighed softly, his hand brushing against your cheek.

Then, in a move that surprised even himself, he scooped you up into his arms.

You stirred lightly as he lifted you up, your body instinctively snuggling into his chest, seeking comfort.

He clenched his jaw, the feeling of your small frame, compared to the size of his body, in his arms stirring something deep within him.

But he ignored the stirring of emotions, focusing instead on getting you inside.

Memories from the past threatened to surface, but he quickly pushed them back.

With you in his arms, he walked back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

He carried you through the living room and into his bedroom, the room still dimly lit.

He laid you down gently on the bed, pulling the covers over you.

He watched as you curled into the bed, your body seeking comfort in the soft sheets.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment, taking in your peaceful expression.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the room silent except for the sound of your soft breathing.

His hand hovered over your hair, tempted to brush strands away from your face. Yet, he stopped himself at the last moment.

No.

He shouldn't get close.

Oh, but he wanted to.

So he allowed himself to do that.

He couldn't resist.

His hand found its way to your hair, gently brushing the strands away from your face.

The motion was slow, almost hesitant.

His fingers trailed down your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw.

He'd missed this, touching you, being this close to you.

But he had to stop.

He pulled his hand back, his expression conflicted, his resolve wavering.

Aeons, you looked so fragile, so beautiful, laying there in his bed.

If yesterday, your pride was less than half, now you had nothing.

Would you regret this? You did not know.

You hoped not.

You felt a little nervous, despite having only had 2 glasses of whiskey.

A very low amount for you.

You sighed, trying to control your nervousness and, above all, embarrassment.

Your hand approached the door, which seconds later you knocked.

He grabbed his revolver from the bedside table before opening the door, only to be met by the sight of you.

You were standing there, looking nervous, a far cry from the drunk person who had been on his porch earlier.

“Uhm,” You blurted out, measuring your words.

"I was just coming to thank you," before continuing you scratched your cheek, "You know, for not locking me out yesterday."

He stared at you for a moment, surprised to see you sober and looking less disheveled.

His eyes roamed over you, noticing the change in your demeanor.

"You don't gotta thank me for that," he said after a moment.

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never left you, observing every bit of your expression as if searching for something.

"You sober this time?" he asked, a hint of a tease in his voice, though his expression remained guarded.

You tried to act nonchalant, shrugging your shoulders, but your heart was racing.

"Yeah, I am," was what left your lips, followed by a nervous laugh. "I only had two glasses, I'm good now.", ducking your head a bit to avoid his gaze.

Silence settled for a few seconds, almost uncomfortable.

Then, you decided to take a chance, raising your head to look at him.

The atmosphere was different, not as charged as the previous night, but there was still a tension lingering.

"Uh…can I come in?" You dared to ask.

His eyes flicked to yours, noticing your attempt to hide your nervousness.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, seeing you avoid his gaze.

"Two glasses, huh?" he repeated, his tone playful.

He didn't step aside immediately, letting the silence linger just a moment longer.

Eventually, he moved back, gesturing with his hand for you to come in.

"Sure, come on in," he said, his eyes studying you as you stepped inside.

You stepped inside.

It had been so long since you were in his apartment. This way exactly.

Your gaze wandered over the familiar surroundings, only made you feel more aware of the situation.

The room was still in its usual messy state, but you were grateful for it. It brought a sense of comfort, a sense of familiarity.

Silence hung in the air again. You felt small, almost sheepish, but you tried to keep your bearings.

You sighed before taking a seat on the comfortable couch.

"Can we talk?" you said, your voice a notch above a whisper.

After he decided to end the relationship, both hadn't seriously talked about it.

He closed the door behind you.

His eyes followed you as you sat down on the couch.

He approached the couch, sitting down, keeping a comfortable distance between you.

"Yeah," he said, his tone neutral.

He leaned back, the tension in his body still visible despite his laid-back pose.

Talking with you was risky.

You both knew this conversation could lead to things he wasn't sure he wanted.

Your fingers fidgeted with the loose threads of the couch's cushions, your gaze fixed on your hands.

A moment of silence followed, the only sound was that of your breaths and the hum of the air conditioning.

Then, taking a chance, you looked up at him.

He was still leaning back on the couch, his arms casually draped over the backrest.

He met your gaze with a blank expression, but in his eyes, you could see something stirring.

“I miss you,” you blurted out.

A flash of emotion passed through his eyes.

Surprise, then something deeper, something more… vulnerable.

But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a familiar mask of nonchalance.

He exhaled softly, his body still tense, but his gaze remained on you.

"I miss you, too," he admitted, his voice slightly softer than before.

He paused, his eyes searching your face, like he was looking for something.

Your heart seemed to thump a little louder.

You weren't expecting that.

His confession was like a soft blow to the chest, knocking the air out of you.

You stared at him for a few moments, your expression one of surprise.

"You do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on you, the previous hardness in his eyes now replaced with a strange vulnerability.

His response was simple and direct, a nod, confirming that he did indeed miss you.

But his eyes held a lot more than his words could convey.

There was a depth of emotion, an ache, a raw vulnerability that he tried to keep hidden.

His fingers tapped against the couch, an unconscious sign of his internal turmoil.

He was torn between acting on his emotions and keeping his distance, torn between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

You didn't miss the subtle signs of his inner battle.

The tapping of his fingers on the couch, the flicker of his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You knew him well enough to understand that his nonchalant facade was just that; a facade.

He was struggling to keep his emotions in check, you could sense it.

And without him noticing, you had already gotten close enough to put your hand on top of his.

Although he couldn't feel your body heat, be could feel your touch.

The feeling of your hand on his made his breath hitch, almost imperceptibly.

His eyes darted from your hand to your face, his expression a mix of disbelief and something that he couldn't quite identify.

His mind screaming to pull away, to maintain his distance. But, he didn't.

Instead, he let your hand rest on his, his fingers twitching underneath as if to intertwine with yours.

The contact sent a small shiver down your spine.

You could practically feel the internal struggle he was having, the war between the logic and the desires.

Despite his initial shock, he didn't pull away from your touch.

Time seemed to slow down, the tension in the room almost palpable.

Your hand wavered a little, but in the finals you did it.

With the hand you had intertwined with his, you let it go for a while, grabbing it and guiding it towards your cheek.

It was a contrast to you, his hand cold from the metal and your cheek warm.

You clung to his hand, as if you had been waiting to do that for a long time.

As your hand guided his to your cheek, he felt an overwhelming wave of raw emotions wash over him.

His fingers instinctively curled slightly, as if he was gripping you.

It had been so long since he had felt your skin against his like that.

He struggled to keep his emotions in check.

Your hand held his with such tenderness, almost like you were afraid he'd pull away.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation, his thumb gently your cheekbone. A painful reminder of all he'd given up and everything he still longed for.

The dam he had built to hold back his emotions was dangerously close to shattering.

You took notice of the subtle changes in his demeanor.

The clenching of his fingeres, the way his eyes closed.

He looked almost… pained.

You could feel the tension in his hand, the conflict within him.

And, this time, your body acted on its own.

While he continued with his eyes closed, quickly, still with his hand on your cheek, your face got close enough to his face.

In such a way that your lips touched his.

His breath hitched again as your lips touched his.

His eyes flew open, meeting your face, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

He should pull back, maintain his distance.

But for a brief moment, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of your lips on his, the scent of you, the proximity.

So, all the pent up emotions he had been holding in, the longing, the want, the regret, all came rushing forward.

He closed his eyes and kissed you back with a mixture of desperation and yearning.

His fingers dug into your skin, holding you tightly and gently.

The kiss started off slowly, almost hesitant, but it quickly grew into something more.

His lips moved against yours, his touch rough yet gentle, as if he was trying to hold back but failing.

His fingers pressed into your cheeks, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid you'd disappear.

He was practically drowning in the feeling of you.

You'd missed this so much.

All that mattered was this moment, the desperate connection between the two of you.

You reached out, clinging to the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer, needing to feel more of him.

However, you couldn't help but get sentimental about this.

You were happy and excited, you felt like this was your first kiss.

So after a few seconds, even with your eyes closed, a few tears fell and slid against your cheeks.

It wasn't until he felt the wetness on your cheeks that he snapped out of his intense state.

He broke the kiss, his eyes widening when he noticed the tears streaming down your face.

He froze, his hands still on your cheeks, his breathing uneven.

"Fudge," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse.

He gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs, his expression now laced with concern and guilt.

"Was I too rough…?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Even with the tears on your face, a small laugh escaped your lips at his question.

"No," you said quietly, shaking your head.

In fact, he was way too gentle.

The thought made a small smile appear on your lips.

"I'm just… happy," you explained, your voice soft and earnest.

You reached up, covering his hand with yours.

"I really missed this," you said.

His expression softened at your assurance that he hadn't hurt you.

He let out a shaky sigh, his fingers gently caressing your cheek.

Your words, "I really missed this," echoed in his mind.

It was the truth.

For both of you.

He couldn't deny it.

He had missed this connection, the feeling of your touch, the comfort of being close to you.

He had been the one to end this, and yet, here he was, craving your touch like a man starving.

He chuckled softly, a mix of relief and amusement at your response.

"Happy tears, huh?" he said, his voice a bit lighter.

His fingers traced your tear-stained cheeks again, as if committing the feeling of your skin to his memory.

"You always were a crybaby," he teased gently, the familiar tone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

However, as your words sank in, his expression softened.

You let out a soft scoff at his teasing remark about you being a crybaby.

"And you're always such a jerk about it," you retorted, but there was no bite in your words, only a hint of amusement.

"I missed this too," he admitted quietly, his gaze fixed on yours.

Then, the last part of his reply hit you. I missed this too.

You felt a renewed flicker of hope in your chest.

Without thinking, your hands came up to his face, gently tracing his features as if to ensure he was really there, and not some illusion.

"How much did you miss me?" you asked softly.

His breath hitched again as you traced his features, your touch almost reverent.

The feeling of your fingers on his skin sent a jolt through him, a mix of pleasure and guilt.

He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the touch until your question pulled him back to reality.

His eyes fluttered open and he met your gaze again.

His throat felt tight, the confession he'd kept buried threatening to escape.

"Too much," he admitted quietly, his voice gravelly.

The thought that all this time, he longed for you as badly as you longed for him was… bittersweet.

Your fingers continued to trace his features, taking in every inch of his face.

You didn't say anything, just stared at his face for a moment.

Under your gaze, he felt vulnerable, exposed.

But he didn't pull away.

He wanted to reach out and pull you closer, to feel more of you against him.

But he held back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Stop staring," he muttered under his breath, his voice betraying a hint of embarrassment.

The silence stretched between you, the air heavy with unspoken words and pent-up emotions.

However, he spoke again, a little more confident.

"You're making it hard for me to keep my distance," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

Stop staring.

You heard him mutter those words, but you didn't care.

And you weren't going to stop.

Your fingers continued their exploration, tracing his jawline, his eyebrows, his nose, his lips.

Your fingers lingered on his mouth, gently tracing the outline of his lips, and felt the slight shiver that ran through him.

You knew you were testing the edges of his self-control, but you couldn't help it.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of your lips at his words.

"Good," you replied, still tracing the lines of his face.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction in the way he seemed almost flustered by your gaze.

After months of separation, you craved this closeness, this connection.

His self-control was faltering, and he knew it.

Your fingers on his mouth sent a jolt through him, and his breath hitched again.

The smirk on your face made him want to both strangle you and kiss you senseless.

He could only take so much.

With a suddenness that surprised both of you, he grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from his face.

"Enough," he croaked out.

He brought your hands down to his lap, holding them tightly in his grasp.

The sudden jerk and the grip on your wrists surprised you, making you gasp softly, but a part of you was satisfied.

You had gotten a reaction.

But even as you stood there, with your hands pinned to his lap, you didn't try to pull away.

Instead, you held his gaze, a stubbornness in your eyes.

"Or what?" you taunted, a hint of defiance in your voice.

The challenge in your voice sent a surge of heat through him.

He gritted his teeth, his grip on your wrists tightening almost reflexively.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to control his breathing.

You were playing with fire.

"I'd like to know what's going on in that head of yours." You said, starting to feel the atmosphere somewhat heated.

The tension in the room had grown thicker, the air almost crackling with electricity.

He studied your face, his gaze boring into yours, as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

He didn't understand why you were doing this.

Why were you purposefully baiting him?

If you wanted him so much, why would he refuse to give you what you demand?

He pulled your wrists with his hand towards him, while his other hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you to his lips.

Before you could respond or tease him further, your wrists were suddenly yanked forward, and you stumbled towards him.

And then, his mouth was on yours.

It wasn't like the previous kiss. This one was fiercer, hungrier, filled with months of suppressed desire.

His hand on the back of your head held you against him, preventing you from pulling away.

It was a kiss born, out of both longing and frustration.

His fingers tangled in your hair, holding your head in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry into your mouth.

You gasped against his lips, the suddenness of his action and the intensity of his kiss taking you by surprise.

The gasp you let out only fueled his desire, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

He tilted your head, angling it to grant himself better access, his tongue tangling with yours in a possessive dance.

He wanted to explore every inch of you, to claim you as his own, to make up for all the months you spent apart.

He released your wrists in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, practically yanking you onto his lap.

You felt yourself being pulled onto his lap, your legs straddling him as you now sat facing him.

His arm was a strong and secure presence around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

The feeling of him under you, his body pressed against yours, sent a shiver up your spine.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the metal start to heat up a little, before looping around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He let out a low growl as you straddled him, the feeling of your body against his sending waves of heat coursing through him.

His hand on your waist moved to your hip, his grip tightening as he pulled you even closer, leaving no space between you.

Your hands in his hair sent sparks shooting down his spine, his heart racing as he continued to kiss you.

He could barely think, his mind consumed by you and the overwhelming desire that was coursing through him.

His lips moved from your mouth, trailing a path down your jaw and to your neck.

The grip he had on your hip, he moved it towards your butt, squeezing it.

A small gasp escaped your lips as his mouth trailed down your neck, his kisses and light bites sending jolts of pleasure through you.

The feeling of his hand on your hip, pulling you against him, was almost primal.

Then, as he squeezed your butt, you let out a small moan, your hips involuntarily rocking against his.

You could feel the effect you were having on him, his breathing becoming more labored, his body growing hotter against yours.

His name escaped your lips in a sultry whimper, the sound making him shiver.

That was all he needed to make your mind go blank in a few minutes.

Oh, poor your hips, your legs, your hole. Poor your body.

And, all said and done, after about 10 minutes, the only thing that could be heard from outside his apartment were moans and whimpers on your part.

That became a vicious but fun routine for both of you.

Sometimes it was in your apartment, sometimes in his apartment.

The strong need both felt for your bodies and presence was too much.

This wasn't just part of your imagination, you and he enjoyed it too much.

This would probably last permanently. That's what you decided to think.

Since, just as you thought months ago, days after your relationship ended, he would need your kisses, you in general.

"Nnnngh…"

Your body trembled against his, your breathing still ragged and uneven.

He held you tightly against him, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your body, still sensitive and flushed from what had just occurred, felt boneless and heavy against his.

When the sounds finally died down, the room was filled with a heavy silence.

Your body was plastered to his, your head resting against his shoulder as you tried to steady your breathing, his grip on you finally loosening as he allowed you to slump against him.

He was also trying to regulate his breathing, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back in a soothing gesture.

The aftermath was always like this.

He'd hold you close, his touch gentle now in a stark contrast to the intense passion that had just unfolded between you moments before.

You'd rest against him, your body limp and spent, your mind still foggy from pleasure.

And you'd lie there, both of you silent, the only sound the steady beat of your heart and the soft rustle of clothing as he continued to stroke your back.

The room was quiet, the air heavy with the aftermath of pleasure.

After a few moments of simply catching your breaths and basking in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, he spoke, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his hand continuing to tracing small circles on your back.

There was a hint of concern in his tone, but also something else, something softer.

He knew he'd been more intense than usual, maybe a bit rougher than the previous times.

You inhaled slowly, your breath still shaky, before nodding against his shoulder.

"Yeah," you managed to reply, your voice a little raspy.

The feel of his hand on your back, his touch gentle and soothing, was a comforting contrast to the passion of a few moments ago.

You could sense the concern in his voice, the subtle shift from intensity to tenderness.

You slowly lifted your head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze, you found his eyes watching you, his expression a mix of affection and worry.

You smiled at him, unable to hide or deny your excitement despite your exhaustion.

"I love you damn too much." You said, standing up a little to give him a soft, short kiss on his lips.

His expression softened at your smile, relief washing over him as he saw the reassurance in your eyes.

Your words, I love you damn too much, made him chuckle softly, the sound rumbling through his chest.

He returned the soft kiss you gave him, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you close for a moment.

"I love you more," he murmured in response, his tone laced with both adoration and a hint of possessiveness.

Your heart swelled at his words, a soft huff of laughter escaping your lips.

"I doubt it," you retorted, your voice laced with a playfully stubborn tone.

But even as you challenged his claim, there was no denying the depth of your feelings for each other.

You leaned into his touch, your own hand placing over his on your cheek, holding his hand in place.

The simple gesture spoke volumes, expressing the tenderness and connection between you.

After a moment, you left his side, getting out of bed somewhat wobbly.

You stretched a little, trying to relax your sore muscles.

You looked down, noticing how your body was full of marks, that made you blush a little.

But you felt good.

"See you the day after tomorrow at the bar?" You asked, before grabbing your clothes as you began to put them on.

His gaze followed you as you got out of bed, his eyes tracing the marks on your body, a mix of pride and possession in his expression.

He laid back, resting his arms behind his head as he watched you dress.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice casual but affectionate. "I'll be there. Can't stay away from you for too long, you know that."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he continued to study you.

"You're funny. See you around, honey." You said, as you let out a light laugh, turning your body to leave the room and the apartment.

Even though you didn't want to go out, you had to go back to your reality, where you are busy almost all day.

He lay there for a moment longer, watching you leave, a pang of loneliness already settling in.

He knew these moments with you were precious and fleeting, but he was comforted by the knowledge that he'd see you again soon.

As he pushed himself up into a sitting position, he ran a hand through his hair, a small sigh escaping his lips.

Your light laugh still echoed in his mind, a sound that he always found endearing and soothing.

With another glance at the empty space where you'd been just moments ago, he quietly muttered, "Can't wait for that."

Just as they agreed, the day came when you would see him at the bar.

However, 3 hours had passed by the time you both agreed to meet.

This time it was your fault, you were working so much that time literally flew by.

You arrived at the bar barely breathing. You took some time to take out your phone and see on the camera if you were unkempt.

Magically you weren't, the only thing you noticed were the bite marks and kisses on your neck, they were still present.

The memory made you happy.

Afterwards, you put your phone away, starting to enter the bar.

This time you almost tripped over people, the place was too dark for you to see.

You spent 10 minutes looking for him throughout the large bar, and, you couldn't find him.

You pulled out your phone again, sending a quick text asking him if he had returned to his apartment yet.

There was no response from him, which seemed strange to you.

But you didn't give the matter much thought.

You sent him one last text in which you said you were going there.

And that's what you set out to do, calmly.

The closer you got to his apartment, the more you felt a strange tightness in your chest that gave you certain spontaneous chills.

You hoped he wasn't upset or sad because it took you so long.

A block from his apartment, you took out your cell phone, there was no notification from him.

Your brow furrowed a little, it was strange.

You shrugged your shoulders and continued walking.

You had already taken out the key to enter, he had given you the spare key, in case you wanted to enter whenever you wanted.

And, being only a few steps from the door, you heard some faint moans.

The blood drained from you for a moment, even your hand trembled as you raised it to put the key in the door lock.

You reassured yourself, that was probably coming from the TV.

You tried to tell yourself that it was just the TV or the neighbors. Maybe he was alone and had put on a random movie.

However, your mind kept going to the worst possibility.

Your hand was shaking as you pushed the key into the lock, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

Finally, you managed to unlock the door, the sound of the key unlocking almost deafening in the silence.

You pushed the door open slowly, holding your breath, the sound of the moans becoming clearer with each step.

And then, the sight that met your eyes confirmed your worst fears.

What you saw made your stomach turn.

You had to cover your mouth to avoid vomiting right there.

There he was, half lying on the couch, being on top of someone. Exactly licking a girl's nipples.

The way his hands pressed roughly and desperately made your head spin.

You didn't know how to react, you froze.

Your emotions were a mess, your own body didn't know whether to cry, scream, hit him or just run away.

You felt far away from that view.

Humiliated. That's what you were.

Did those hands and that mouth kiss you two days ago? You thought, feeling disgusted with him and yourself.

Your body was still full of marks that had not been erased. You were humiliated.

The sight was a cruel blow to your heart, a reality that seemed almost surreal.

You felt sick to your stomach, a mix of disbelief and heartbreak swirling within you.

Each movement, each touch he gave her made your blood boil.

You stood there, frozen in place, watching something you thought was yours being shared with another.

The most degrading thing was that he didn't even hear the door open. The girl, seeing out of the corner of her eye that there was someone else, shook him a little, to get him out of the disgusting trance he was in.

The girl separated from him, covering her breasts as best she could, looking at you with embarrassment and curiosity at the same time.

His confusion increased with the girl's action.

And that's when he looked up, seeing you.

His eyes widened, realizing the situation with a mixture of shock and realization.

He stood up from the couch, trying to get closer to you.

At that moment, it was like you had covered your ears, you didn't hear any of the words you saw him saying.

But how could he possibly explain this?

The first thing you managed to do was cover your neck with your hand, which had his marks.

Pure humiliation.

It felt like he was making fun of you.

The keys that were previously in your other hand slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor.

You stayed there, watching him formulate words with his lips over and over again that you weren't hearing.

It made you sick to see his lips, his face.

Each word he said seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Your mind was racing with emotions, your chest felt tight and your heart was hurting.

Seeing his confusion and attempted justification made you feel even worse.

There was no explaining.

Every mark that littered your neck felt like a reminder of your trust in him, now shattered.

Your tears fell silently, without even realizing it, the scene in front of you becoming more and more surreal.

You still hadn't moved from your place, your body frozen like a statue.

You didn't know what the right way to react would be, maybe yelling at him about how he could have cheated on you.

But oh, right.

You and him had never said that you would be dating again.

You just created a guess, because of how things were the same again.

You had nothing to complain about.

Your mind flashed back to the last few weeks, the passionate encounters, the nights spent in each other's arms.

All of it felt tainted now, as if it had all been a lie.

Your tears fell even more, your nose began to run and your breathing became more labored.

The girl was still sitting on the couch, in silence, watching all the scene.

He was getting more and more desperate, now that he realized that you weren't reacting to any of his pathetic excuses.

You still stood there, still unable to process what was happening.

It was all so surreal and unfair.

Both had returned to each other's arms so easily, without a problem.

How could he do such a thing having you in his arms?

You felt your own body shaking, your head spinning with disbelief and shame.

How could he do this to you, just a day after holding you in his arms?

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, but it sounded like a sob.

Your body finally began to move, slowly walking out of the apartment.

He followed you, still trying to explain himself.

But your mind was still blocked, you couldn't understand his words.

All you could feel was the stabbing pain in your heart, the humiliation and the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You were holding your breath so you wouldn't start sobbing there.

As you stepped out of the apartment, you heard his footsteps behind you, pleading for you to listen to him.

But every word seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Your feet continued to carry you forward, tears clouding your vision.

His voice seemed so far away, it was like trying to pick up the voice of someone on another planet.

Each step you took felt like it was echoing louder and louder in your head.

You were so hurt, so betrayed.

Once you were far enough away, no longer hearing his footsteps, you allowed yourself to breathe again, only for your breathing to become extremely rapid.

You felt like you couldn't even breathe, your heart was going to jump out of your chest.

Until, in the first drawer you found, you vomited, taking out everything that was inside you.

As well as the tears and strong sobs.

As each tear fell, it was like it carried a piece of your heart with it.

You stayed there on the sidewalk, letting the humiliation and pain wash over you.

Each of his words echoed in your mind, his excuses, his pleas.

You felt so stupid, so humiliated.

The pain in your heart was almost unbearable.

The cold night air was a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped you.

How could someone who touched you and held you so tenderly be capable of such a thing hours later.

The memories of what you saw came back to you, like knives to your chest.

The tears continued streaming down your face, your whole body feeling weak and exhausted.

Until, even though you were still sobbing, not as hard as before, you stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You forced yourself to walk back to your apartment.

On the way, in the first trash can you found, you threw your phone inside.

In which, while you were already blocks ahead, it began to ring and ring, over and over again, with audios, calls, messages. From him, exactly.

It was probably all in your mind, and after all, your relationship with him had ended months ago.

It was a shame that this situation had taken you out of your beautiful imaginary story.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lara4eclipze]

so I was thinking if you could maybe write a Megan × fem reader where they're Roblox girlfriends and decided to meet up irl (idk I just think it would be so cute haha)

“Roblox?”

— ( 💻 ) "maybe we should meet irl lol" Megan chats , "why not?" you reply

— ( 🎧 ) online dating , fluff , swearing, LEWSERR , cuties , established relationship (girlfriends)

— ( 🎮 ) ackk I love this request!!, it fits Megan so well :)) love you anon!! , made this longer than I expected lololol

stranger danger is something you know and apply in your life — you can never really trust people online especially when you haven't seen how they look or know much about them

but that rule just gets broken whenever you play Roblox , the whole thing of Roblox is meeting and playing games with strangers online

sometimes you're lucky with who you meet but most times not — it was worth the risk for you , instead of getting bored

Mei_Berry05:hii ^^

y/nniee_06: helloo!!

"I love her avatar" you murmur to yourself as she approaches you — your avatar was... something! compared to hers

you were playing adopt me who cares what you wear— but she was cute the way she typed was very nice

Mei_Berry05: can we be friends??

y/nniee_06: yeah sure! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

and just like that you two became friends, over the span of a few weeks she would always match with you—join the games your playing and buy you robux whenever you wanted a gamepass

ding

she was honestly so cute , but you always wondered how she looked like or how she was in real life god knows she might just be a old man behind the screen

∞

a notification rings your cellphone, it was her!, "can we play mimic??" you read her chat — you weren't really that good in horror games but you'll be with her anyways it's okay

y/nniee_06: Sure!!! — I'll just set up my laptop :))

Mei_Berry05: okayy just join me when you're ready

"okay meii" you replied as if she was listening to you , you open your laptop blinded by the screen brightness

you join the game greeted by her jumping and emoting Infront of you , you giggle as you see her reaction

Mei_Berry05: hi!! ^_^

y/nniee_06: heyyoo! , lets play :]

Mei_Berry05: okay follow me

she chats jumping up and down in the game , the game was fun and very hard — you had to repeat the same level almost 7 times , megan practically carried you throughout the game , soon enough you felt very bored of the game the overuse of jumpscares just made you sick of it

Mei_Berry05: wanna play adopt me?

Mei_Berry05: please?? :((

you can practically see her frowning even in real life so you immediately agreed — plus as immature as it sounds you loved adopt me

y/nniee_06: okayy , join me! <3

you type enthusiastically on your laptop , the keyboard was beat up by the amount of times you typed this fast and hard

the game was fun you both scammed some kids , and bought the recent egg the ocean egg , hatched it and got a legendary octopus!

Mei_Berry05: soo can I ask you something?

y/nniee_06: yeahh? why what is it??

Mei_Berry05: can you be my g!rlfri3nd? :>

you were taken a back, maybe because you didn't expect it or more on because you two only knew each other online and it's not even on social media but on roblox

y/nniee_06: YESS!! , so can we? match fits?!?

you chat back smiling to yourself in real life — you wait as she types in chat

Mei_Berry05: YAYY (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ , yes we could match fits!! ### sm

you laugh as her chat gets tagged , it was three letters so probably "ily" i love you , aww

"pulling a girl , but in roblox" you chuckle to yourself , the first relationship you had was built in roblox not only that but in adopt me

weeks and weeks pass by and not a single one ended without you two playing some random game on Roblox sometimes you both just chat about your day— you didn't know much about her other than she was in Hawaii and she loves dancing

∞

Mei_Berry05: I'm actually in LA rn!

y/nniee_06: oogofmdi I live in LA WDYMMM?? UR HERE?

your heart was about to jump out of your chest with how excited you were , were you gonna meet her finally?

Mei_Berry05: maybe we should meet irl!!

y/nniee_06: why not?

and just like that you two started planning where and when you two would meet it was nerve wracking to say the least — you were gonna see your girlfriend! , but you weren't sure if it was safe..

∞

"I'm so nervous what the fuck" you mutter to yourself as you wait for her , you both agreed to meet in the local café near you , you sat down and already ordered a croissant and a iced mocha

everytime someone new entered the cafe your heart raced , but then she walked in — she had this calming and soft aura to herself

"hi! — y/n!!!" she exclaims as you wave your hand at her , she runs up to you hugging you

"hi mei!" you replied back , she was so cute , the slight tint of pink to her cheeks and that cute smile gosh your actually gonna die

you two talk about life and other things laughing at the first time you two met , and how you two were girlfriends in roblox

∞

after a long day you two walk in the breezy night , with ice cream to both your hands , her fingers interlocked with you as if she's afraid you'll float away

"i love you , i really do" megan whispers loud enough for you to hear , "I never would've imagined how much I'll love you more when I met you"

"I love you too—promise me you'll visit me more often 'kay?" you replied as you felt all warm inside a contrast to the cold whether

as you stop in front of the city fountain you lean your head onto her shoulders, enjoying the quiet company she provided, the warmth she made you feel

you look at her , she looks at you her face scrunched up as she tries to analyze what you were thinking — a beat passes by and you meet her lips with yours , hers was sweet and soft it felt right it was right

she smiles into the kiss , and holds onto your nape prolonging it , "I love you" megan mutters your foreheads pressed against each other , "I love you too" you replied

[ihopeiexplode]

Sukuna ramblings: “Realistically, would Sukuna have a lover, if yes how would the relationship be?”

. Requested!

—

Honestly realistically speaking, Sukuna himself stated love is worthless so without a doubt I don't see Sukuna having a lover,

Because personally I see Sukuna as someone who only cares about his own desires and could careless about what people think, because he did state in the manga that he was an unwanted child meaning he would be neglected

Which would also mean he doesn't know what the concept of love is and doesn't bother learning it, Sukuna isn't one to give, he takes.

Of course as any unwanted and neglected child Sukuna probably climbed his way up to earn his title as the king of curses, getting rid of anything that gets in his way

Sukuna sees feelings as love worthless and a sign of weakness, and seeing Sukunas personality for a fact he hates showing vulnerability and weakness towards anyone

Afterall throughout his whole life he was always a feared and well respected man, Sukuna knows his worth, and is very much aware that the things he's doing is bad but despite that he simply has no regards of the consequence of his actions

Yes I've seen the way he acts with uraume and gojo etc etc

As I said I don't think Sukuna would be the one to have a lover, but if he ever did I feel like he would prefer them to be an equal to him, plus to have undying loyalty to him

Sukuna is the type to hate the weak, so him having a weak s/o is unlikely, he'd much have someone who's independent, strong and won't get in the way of his plan and help him with his plans

But of course his s/o should also be proven useful to sukuna, cause you know they might come in handy for the future

But how would the relationship be like?

A relationship with him would be decent, but he won't show his love for you openly seeing how the concept of love is unknown to him so expressing his love for you would be difficult meaning you'd also have to be patient with him

Plus he already thinks he's showing his love for you seeing how he granted you the privilege to walk beside him and be with him in the first place, that should be enough right?

Seeing how sukuna never experienced love, so he'd be very unfamiliar with the feeling of showering his s/o with affection, the best you'll get from him is compliments and gifts and a few lingering touches from him here and then

He won't be soft, the best you'll get is him lowering his guard around you, and him spending his free time with you

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/n: yes this was just an excuse to ramble about sukuna thx ily guys

Permanent Taglist: @megumisfave

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

[a66-1]

starving

part 1 | part 2 [you're here!]

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

finally got the idea for part 2. excited?

me too

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen.

semi proofread bc who cares

The next morning was exhausting as the last.

You got up early to go running. If you ever have the chance, you run until the sun comes up. You need to stay fit if you want a boyfriend. It was easier when you were on your meds. Almost like you had the will to live those mornings.

You were back at the house around 8 am. You weren't scheduled for work today so... You headed back to bed and really, just slept the day away

You woke up around 5 pm. 5, really? God, you are just some depressed child.

You got out of bed for the second time, and changed into a dress. It was hard seeing yourself in a dress after 2 years. You stopped going out because alcoholism and anti-depressants aren't really two peas in a pod, are they?

Well this is why you quit. You dropped your therapist and your meds because you were better, and your mom stopped helping with the payments, and now you can go back to partying.

Minus the heavy drinking.

Hopefully.

You tear your eyes off yourself. If you stare too long, you'll end up convincing yourself to stay in bed longer. You configure the rest of your outfit, and grab a small black purse. Throwing your phone in it, you leave the house quicky. If you don't, you might properly convince yourself you're just as ugly as you thought..

The drive to the bar was silent, save from the honking cars around you. Fuck, what if this is the wrong idea? I mean the looks everyone will give you, you look so bad and so ugly and god this was such a bad--

You hear a car honk behind you. The light turned green. You lower your head, sighing, and taking a left.

Once at the bar, you slip into one of the seats nearer the back, feeling uncomfortable in the seat. Adjusting your dress down, you cringe while looking around the bar. There's so many pretty women here, and comparatively you are way under them.

You order a drink, sipping on the alcohol for the first time in months. Fuck, your therapist would be losing it if she knew you not only stopped meds but started drinking again...

You rested your head in your palm, watching others interact. Pretty women just have a way with men, a way you've never had. The buzz of the alcohol was enough to make you not question why nobody has interacted with you, other than the bartender. People probably think your such a loser, I mean, who would just sit here and drink--

"Hey. You're, uh.. That girl from yesterday right?" A gruff voice appears behind you. You flinch forward, whipping your head around.

Oh. This guy.

You slowly put your drink down, your palm over the top of it.

"And who are you?" You ask, eyeing the man. He didn't have his mask on. He was... Really cute.

"A customer." He sat next to me, his eyes trained on mine. I felt sort of flushed under his gaze.

Fuckin' small world.

You spent some of the night talking with him. Still don't know his name, or why you ran into him here, but you don't care nonetheless.

You were looking for sex this night but... Is a connection so bad?

Like you could make a connection with someone who is out of your league.

thank god i finished this. 3 drafts later, and im sorry its kinda short. trust part 3 is gonna have the good stuff, this is kinda a filler so it can get to the good stuff.

ily babes...

-a661

taglist:

@i-am-hungry-24-7 @arminarlertssword @haven-1307

[luvxxriki]

Please do when niki feels like his sisters are stealing you from him and he starts beginning jealous please please😭😭

NO PLEASE I LOVE THIS IDEA.

pairing - riki x fem!reader (ft. konon and misora)

genre - fluff, established relationship

warnings (but not really) - jealousy, riki has an attitude, kissing, reader calls riki 'Ki'

wc - 481

notes - ILY FOR THIS. probs my fav req ive gotten🫡 hope you like it!🫶🩷

“Wait, try this one!” Misora laughed, handing you another one of Konons eyeshadows. You put it on over the other make up you were already wearing.

“Wow, it looks good! You should keep it!” Konon complimented you and took a few pictures of the three of you on her bedroom floor, with all of her makeup spread around you. 

“Really?!” You smiled. You loved the color, and the fact that she was letting you keep it? Treating other people well really ran in the family.

“Of course! I never wore it anyways” 

“That's cuz it didn’t look good on you” Misora teased, which earned her a light smack on the head from Konon.

The three of you were so busy talking and laughing that you didn’t even hear your phone ringing beside you.

“Konon, have you seen yn? She said she would be here like a half hour ago- oh” He stopped mid sentence when he saw you sitting on his sisters bedroom floor, laughing like his sisters were the funniest people on earth. 

“Oh, you’re back!” You smiled at him. He didn’t return it, and just said “Yea” and walked off to his bedroom.

“Oooh, someones jealous,” Misora laughed.

“Go get your man, I don’t wanna deal with him being cranky later because he ‘barely got to see you’” Konon waved you off and you sighed. “You don’t wanna deal with him? He’s probably not gonna let me have any of the snacks he got!”

You walked out of her room and knocked on Rikis door.

“Ki? Lemme in” 

“No, go with Konon and Misora” 

You immediately walked in and sat near him on his bed, laying your head on his lap and looking up at him.

“Are you jealous?” You asked, with a bit of mischief laced in your tone.

“No…” He looked away from you. You smiled and sat up to make him look at you.

“Whyyy? I was just waiting for you to come back from the store so they let me hang out with them!”

“You could’ve come with me!” He finally looked back at your eyes and sulked.

“You left before I even got here!” You hit his shoulder. 

“Fine. But even lately you’re always hanging out with them, I feel like they’re stealing you!” He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Nuh uh! They could never steal me” You kissed the top of his head.

“Really? So you'll hang out with me more than them?”

“I think I have to”

“Have to?! I thought you liked being with me” “I know, it was a joke” You smiled and cupped his cheeks. You kissed his lips gently, just to show him how much you really like being with him.

“Now are you gonna stop being jealous?”

“Do that again and I will”

[l0v3tast3]

ooh can i request a 141 witha reader that has bad abandonment issues and needs constant reassurance?

if it’s to much please then don’t do it, don’t wanna make you write something you don’t want to

but if you do mwah ily! ❤️❤️

as someone with severe abandonment issues. and also needs constant reassurance. thank you for this request lmao also mwah ily2 !!! (っ˘ω˘ς ) this was rlly cute to write lol also sorry this took like a month im finally trying to get caught up on requests lmaoo

✎ tags: gn!reader, young military reader, angst, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff

✎ word count: 900 words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests

✧ ˖ ° they all notice it when your eyes shift towards theirs for their approval when you do well during training, when you never say "no" to whatever they ask you to do for them. they think you're just eager to please. you're the shiny new recruit to the team, beaming bright and always ready to take on your next task, so they brush it off.

✧ ˖ ° simon is the first to really figure out how deep your servitude runs, what the real reason behind it is. it's during one of your missions together, him and johnny and you in a firefight. johnny gets separated from the two of you and he can nearly feel the panic radiating off of you at the thought of your teammate, your friend, being gone. you do a good job of concealing it, of pushing through it to clear the area before you bolt to go looking for him.

✧ ˖ ° it clicks for simon so quickly because he's been where you are before. he's felt that trepidation too many times, the dread dripping cold down his spine when the other end of the radio goes silent. he's felt that same dizzying relief when you both reunite with johnny and your shoulders visibly relax. so when you're all back at base and you're hanging back while you fiddle with your gear, he pats a heavy hand on your shoulder with a gruff "y'did good, kid," before he walks away.

✧ ˖ ° kyle doesn't quite figure it out in the same depth as simon, but he picks up on the way you get nearly giddy at any kind of praise or validation and how anxious you seem to get when you think you haven't done something as well as they want you to. as he gets to know you and grows more and more fond of you, he'll make it a point to encourage you and try his best to help you build your confidence in your abilities. it's subtle and obvious at the same time, a quick "nice shot!" over the radio during missions and a huffed "are you ever gonna let me win?" while you're sparring together.

✧ ˖ ° it's not something that's spoken between you two, but you know he'll always be there for you. being the closest in age (and social media knowledge) helps you both to bond quickly and strongly when you join the team, and eventually people start joking that the two of you are attached at the hip. and it's pretty much true; when you aren't together you're texting, sending memes back and forth and talking about how bored or entertained you were in the moment. during missions, you're checking in with each other every few minutes, to the point where simon starts getting annoyed.

✧ ˖ ° price can see it in you the same way he can see it in so many of the recruits that join the military seeking purpose and approval. you're looking for a reason that others will give you to keep going, and he wants to tell you that you need to find your own reason, that you will find your own reason, but it's not something for him to explain. instead, he'll show you a gentleness that he doesn't often show; it's not outright obvious, not enough that others besides probably the rest of the 141 will notice, but it's enough that you'll see it. encouragement and very slowly helping you build your confidence is the road price takes to help you. quiet affirmations after training sessions, positive feedback surrounding the negative, a heavy hand thumping against your back when you do well- price is quiet, but he notices.

✧ ˖ ° as for johnny, well... he's not oblivious, per say, but he'll be somewhere along the "realization scale" close to kyle. it's not something that he's personally worried about himself all that much. johnny knows his talents and capabilities, and the confidence he's built up after a decade in the military is unquestionable. but you haven't had as long as him, as any of them to climb to their level of self-assurance, and he's aware of that much at least.

✧ ˖ ° when he sees you struggling internally with your self-doubt, johnny always swoops in with something to lighten your mood. he brings up that you've mastered a particular move in training already or how impressed he was that you're already able to bring himself down while sparring. johnny sticks near you when he can; he'll eat meals with you and work out with you and just enjoy your company during your free time at the base. if he sees you struggling with something during training, you become certain that he'll always pull you aside after everyone leaves and help you until you've got it down.

✧ ˖ ° as a whole, the men of the 141 task force aren't great at outright reassurance and emotional help. they're hardened soldiers who've proven their worth time and time again, but they know you haven't had a chance to yet. so with their unknowingly combined forces, they'll do their best to make sure you do get that chance, to make sure that you know how much of an irreplaceable and valuable cog in their well-oiled machine you've become.

[cyberluvzu]

I don't know if you will want to do it, but can you make headcanons of Ben Drowned? (The fanon version of him, not the canon where he is a child 💀)

I've been seeing some of your headcanons and I loved how you write !! (This is my first request, I don't even know if I'm doing it right ✋😭)

That's it have a great day <3

BEN DROWNED HEADCANONS

AJJGSKSHSK THANK YOU SM ILY. ALSO I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BEN SMSMSMSMMS. You're literally so nice I'm sobbing. I ALSO WASN'T SURE IF YOU MEANT GENERAL OR ROMANTIC HEADCANONS. YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY TOO :3 <3!!!!!! MWAH MWAH MWAHHHHHH!!!!

(I also had to edit this while it was posted bc I accidentally clicked post 😭😭)

General Headcanons

- Pothead

- LMAO SORRY

- But he would probably smoke weed here and there

- Hungry when he's high

- I also like to think that he has longer hair, just long enough to be put in a pony tail

- He mostly keeps his hair up

- Would probably dress more comfy if he's just relaxing at home

- Video game shirts, basketball shorts, sweatpants, PJ pants

- If he has to like actually get dressed for any reason he would just wear something comfortable but not exactly pajamas

- More like baggy clothes, y'know?

- Buys dumb shit with his money

- "Oh look a bag of mini plastic ducks"

- "I NEED IT"

- Likes to hack games, but when other people do it he gets mad

- He takes it as a challenge and pops through that person's screen to absolutely terrify them

- He thinks it's hilarious

- Going off of that, he LOVES to scare people

- Specifically likes when people have over the top reactions to it because he thinks it's the funniest shit ever

- Would definitely watch those 2 hour long YouTube video essays on a topic he's never heard of

- Frequently falls down YouTube rabbit holes because of it too

- Also knows random facts about obscure topics because of that

- Takes GREAT care of his PC

- It's in absolutely top notch condition

- I like to think that he's not THAT messy like some people see him as

- More of a "I'll put everything in separate piles" messy

- Surprising clean-ish room

- Loves brain rot

- In like an ironic way though

Romantic

- Let's you play with his hair

- Loves the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp

- Gives you dumb pet names

- Will absolutely call you the most cheesy, diabolical pet name and act like it's normal

- LOVESSS taking naps with you

- Like genuinely adores it

- Also really likes nose kisses

- You kiss him on the nose

- He's all yours

- ALSOOOO WOULD DEFINITELY WAKE YOU UP TO PLAY GAMES WITH YOU

- "Babe can we play Minecraft"

- "It's 3am, Ben"

- He loves you and wants to play with you

- He would definitely do most of the hard work (cheat)

- Makes sure you have the best items in games

- Loves when you wrap around him

- Big fan of hugs, especially yours

- He loves how you feel and smell

- NOT IN A WEIRD WAY 😭

- He just really likes you

- Will absolutely flirt with you in the stupidest ways possible

- Tries to pay attention to you, but if he's distracted by a game, you'll lose his full attention for a couple of hours

- He will eventually remember that he has a partner and will go bother you

- HE LOVESSS TO ANNOY YOU

- Will poke you when he wants attention or needs something from you

- Has a shit eating grin on his face the whole time

- If you get upset at him he'll fake being overdramatically upset just to make you laugh

- Loves seeing you giggle, laugh, or smile

- He would definitely let you borrow his clothes

- He thinks you're the cutest thing ever in his clothes

- Looks forward to getting into bed with you and talking about a new game he started, his day, or just about anything

- He's sweet, but can also be a complete dick

- IN LIKE A JOKING WAY

- He wouldn't really be mean to you

- Just annoying

- He's secretly hoping you kiss him to shut him up

- Would buy you and him matching jewelry

- Your name in his phone would probably be "player 1"

- Or something cheesy like that

- He loves being cringey and cheesy with you

- He's just really comfortable around you and loves you

- Sometimes he might not know how to express it because of how extreme it feels

- But he does get the point across eventually

-------------------------------------------

HELLO!!! So basically I didn't proof read this for shit 😭. BUTTTTT that's bc I accidentally hit post when I wasn't ready. BUT I HOPED Y'ALL ENJOYED, SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN POSTING AS MUCH!!!!! MWAHHHHH!!!!

[rosekasa]

58 for the kiss prompt??

HI ILY THANK U FOR THIS

58. “It’s been years since we’ve seen each other and I didn’t know what happened to you because of secret identities” kiss from this list by @kisspromptsforthelovesquare

The train of her dress catches in the jamb when she slams the door. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she says.

Adrien looks down at his loafers. The floor has been freshly polished. This room is probably booked for another wedding later today. After Marinette finishes taking her vows at hers.

She takes a step forward, fingers clutching so hard at her bouquet that the stems start to split. "Adrien," she says. "What did Tikki mean when she said you're Chat Noir?"

Music floats through the corridor from the other hall. He knows no one's going to wonder where he is, but what about the bride?

He swallows, still looking at his loafers. "...You weren't meant to find out today," he says quietly.

She scoffs. "So after the reception was your idea of good timing?"

Adrien says nothing.

She reaches her hands up, like she wants to scrub them down her face, then thinks better of it. They still haven't even gotten around to the actual ceremony yet -- she can't ruin her makeup.

"God, Adrien, I just--" She sighs. "How could you not have told me before?"

"...There was never a good time," he says.

"Never?" she repeats. "You came back to Paris six months ago!"

He bristles. As if he didn't think about it back then. As if he wouldn't have told her at the airport on the very first day, when she'd outrun Alya and Nino and jumped on him when her engagement ring brushed against his neck.

Does she feel differently about that hug now? Now that she knows he's Chat Noir, her ex-boyfriend, the boy who disappeared as soon as Hawk Moth was arrested?

"I don't know what you want me to say," he says. "It's not like it would've changed anything."

Her eyes cut towards him. "Adrien, do you really think I'd be getting married today if I knew who you were?"

The words hang in the air, reverbing in his ears long after it stopped in the empty room. She can't possibly mean what he thinks she means. She's been with that guy for two years, they have an apartment together, he's pretty sure she's mentioned adopting a cat soon--

"That's not--" He struggles for a moment. "Of-- of course you would, I mean, you love him--"

"Then what stopped you from telling me in the first place?"

He swallows hard.

He knew. He knew full well what would've happened if he'd told her.

Her eyes are moist behind her mascared lashes. "I can't go back out there," she says.

"What?" he says. He steps forward, edging around the skirt of her dress. "Marinette-- no. You have to."

"I can't, I--" Her voice cracks. She turns her eyes up, holding back tears.

"Marinette." He grabs her hands, almost desperately, and squeezes. "Marinette. This is your future. Your life."

"It was my life," she says. "When I thought I wouldn't see you again." Her gaze shifts back to his face. "How can I promise myself to someone that isn't you?"

Her ring feels like a blade against his thumb.

"You kind of already did," he whispers.

She sighs. Her head drops to rest on his chest. Her veil looks like a white tulip petal, spreading across the floor behind her.

Careful not to dislodge her bun, he cups her head. Leaning his face down, he kisses her hair.

"You'll be okay," he says softly. He takes her by the arms and helps her straighten. "You'll be more than okay. I mean, he has much better hair than me anyway."

She laughs wetly, dabbing at her lashes with a finger. "That's impossible and you know it."

He cracks a pained smile.

He wonders when the next flight out of Paris is tonight.

[crowleyholmes]

hi there chris! since the new year is approaching rapidly, i wanted to ask my favorite creators (that includes you! i love your art!) how they look back on their 2023 tumblr year and which blogs made them happy to be here. i am very happy to follow you and hope you'll have a great 2024! 💘

Hiiii omg this is so sweet and means a lot to me, thank you! 🥺💕

I've been meaning to do a little end-of-the-year shoutout/love post for some of my favorite blogs, so I hope you don't mind if I use your ask as the perfect excuse!

I've had many fun years on tumblr, but this one has been extra special. Falling into the Good Omens fandom and meeting all of you amazing people has made this year so so SO much better than it otherwise would have been, so here are some special shoutouts (apologies, I'm sure this will get long, things like this tend to get away from me, so I'll put it under a read-more)

@majortomyourcurcuitsdead SASHA can you believe I was going to just send you an anon telling you that I think you're cool and leave it at that. Can you believe it. WELL thank Somebody you had your anon turned off and I had to expose myself in your dms because it feels like we just instantly connected about like 20 different things and haven't stopped talking since sskjdfhs anyway I'm so happy I met you you're so fun and so clever and so talented and so enthusiastic and I've only known you for like. What 2 months?? Ish? But I already love you so much <3

@lineffability !!! Line you are so *struggles to find words* you're just great is what you are okay. I feel like you are what happens when somebody takes a big cup and puts six shots of love, chaos, sunshine, talent, fun, and enthusiasm into it, generously sprinkles intelligence on top and gives it a good stir. I don't even remember how or when or why we started talking tbh? But your creativity is so inspiring, and some of my favorite tumblr-moments of this year have been 'yes-and'ing with you about one thing or another in a very >:3 manner hahah so! my point is! i love you lots <3

@dontbotheraziraphale Teeeedddd you're wonderful, I vented at you one time and then we talked for like 2 hours and at the end of that 1 conversation I already considered you a friend - and not just in that "tumblr mutuals who talk 1 time are my friends" kind of way but like. Genuinely. You're so kind and so fun and every time we talk it's such a good time ily a lot my bro my buddy my man <3

@crikey01 Tallulah HI I also completely forgot how we started talking but I remember connecting the dots that you were the one who painted those INSANE black and white and gold oil paintings and the way my jaw dropped like?? BRO you're so talented I admire you so much! And I love that we bonded over stopping each other from masochistically checking certain peoples' blogs... 😂 Anyway you're so sweet and fun and ily lots <3

---

The list could probably go on but you four are the people I've talked to most on here and you're the tumblr chat boxes I never close but always just minimize and y'all better see this as the ultimate internet declaration of affection that it Clearly is >:D 💕

---

And here are some more shout-outs because I just HAVE to.

Apologies, I know I've already tagged a bunch of you recently in a mutuals appreciation post but. This is my official thank-you-for-2023 post and I just have a lot of love for you all okay sorry feel free to ignore this <3

@rowan-ashtree (i'll text you back soon I promise I'm sorry I just haven't had the brain-space recently ssjkdfh) @crawley-fell (we've never talked but i love you from afar :')) @ineffabildaddy @llokilaufeyson @actual-changeling @saryasy @hyperfocusthusly @beccibarnes @rainbowcrowley @thesherrinfordfacility @goodoldfashionednightingale @wibbly-wobbly-blog @highlyillogicalandroid (i see your data obsession and i agree <3) @tortugay @foolishlovers @stargazing-crowley @gingiekittycat @weasleywrinkles @bildads-shoes @finleycannotdraw @bowtiepastabitch @heytherefluffy @samwwise @nocturnal-birb @athousandyearstime @angelsdiningattheritz @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer @jedthesecretdreamer @wraithee @hydrangeadangea @southfarthing @frodo-baggins @mobius-m-mobius

[madlittlecriminal]

can we have some jonathan crane head cannons / fluff with him and his gf having a big age gap?? (she’s like 19/20 just starting college and i’m assuming he’s like 30 something lol) anyway, ily thank u ❤️‼️💕

Age Gap ↦ Jonathan Crane × Female!Reader [headcanons]

i love you too, anon! :) i hope you enjoy!

Warnings: age gap (reader is 20, Jonathan is 30), reader majors in psychology, slight angst

You two met after he came to give a speech on psychology to your major.

He was intrigued by your questions, and you had developed a crush based off looks and his knowledge on psychology.

While it was your first semester, you knew he was smarter than your professor, who looked like took the job as a last resort.

Jonathan gave you his email in case you had more questions as he had to leave.

He wasn't going to lie though; you left a mark on him.

You were so invested in fear and his opinions even though you could ask your professor these questions.

Then again, it's been 10 years that he was in college, so professors probably changed since then.

You waited about a week until you emailed him.

You left this man anticipating your email and when he finally got it, he actually smiled.

"I have a question about your talk."

"What was the question?"

Did you go overboard with the questions?

Well, you sent him more than one which had him chuckling.

From there, you went to him for questions until it led to more.

He ended up giving you his number and you two began texting often.

He knew of the 10-year age gap between the both of you.

He was cautious at first, but he couldn't lie about the way his heart raced whenever your message came through.

You also couldn't deny how you always giggled like a kid on Christmas when he messaged you.

After about 3 months of chatting, you two made it official.

He'd take you out on little dates when you two had free time

He'd help you study for an exam for your psychology class and would reward you with a kiss on the forehead if you'd get the answer right.

If you'd tell him your grade, he'd hug you, kiss your cheek and say, "I'm proud of you, darling."

He'd then buy your favorite snack and give you cuddles.

If you had a low grade, he'd say, "I know you tried your best, darling. Don't worry. You'll get the next one."

And he'd still buy you your favorite snack and he'd still give you cuddles.

The same outcome for both because he can, and he will.

He never drew the line with you, and he was extremely patient.

If there was something you didn't like or didn't want to do, he'd understand and wait for you.

Then you found his mask.

Was it a test?

Possibly.

He's convinced whatever force was out there didn't want to see him happy.

He didn't know what it was, but you didn't look happy.

Which made him unhappy as well.

"I need time."

He froze as you rested the mask on the table before stepping out of his apartment and back to your apartment.

He gave you time, but he wouldn't as he did worry.

After all, he felt like it was his fault if this relationship ended.

But you called him a week later and told him you were ready to talk.

You two met up at a cafe, but he still listened to you.

You told him you were upset that he didn't trust you with this.

He said he couldn't risk anything happening to you.

You were still a bit cautious, but you gave him another chance.

It took time for you to get used to his Scarecrow counterpart, but eventually you did.

[f4iry-bell]

for your event!! would you do a Jameson x reader where the reader is hopeful journalist and is scared that she’ll never be loved and it reflects in her work.

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

summary: well ↑

taglist: @clarissaweasley-10 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou @emelia07 @elysianwayy77 @cassie6392 (lmk if u want to be in this)

word count: 784

a/n: anon, hope you like this, anon. ily!

masterlist | 300 event masterlist

Being in the school newspaper doesn't automatically make one a good journalist, just a good writer for her age. I got a lot of compliments about my writings but I never felt truly appreciated for my writings. Because people read two sentences and then poof, they say you're amazing. What about the rest of my work? Do those two sentences judge my entire work? Everytime I read and reread my work I want to rip the printed paper to pieces. Especially since I joined college, I somehow managed to be in the college newspaper as well, probably because I was in my school newspaper.

I didn't get any recommendations or any of that sort, I managed to believe that I am where I am for my talent. In school, I doubted myself a lot, I thought my writing was bad because people didn't read them entirely, it took me time to realise that they are just lazy to read. 

Or they just don't want to read my work. They just don't care about what I have to say. Even my own friends.

Maybe that's the reason I haven't made it yet. Sure, I do talk to people but you can't label them friends. With all of this, I somehow managed to grab the attention of the smartest, most handsome, and charming boy in college ever; Jameson Hawthorne.

His first words to me were “nice work.” I wanted to scream, because with those two words he also added “pretty girl.” 

We started by talking a lot after that. I went to him when I wasn't sure of my writing. He is an honest critique and I was able to take criticism. But there was this nagging feeling that told me that he's just tolerating me and my work. Sometimes I wonder if he ever regrets talking to me first at all.

I was about to leave the newspaper room when Jameson walked in holding the newest paper of our college, and he looked pissed. 

“Can we talk?” He asked, trying to keep his cool which was obvious.

“Sure. What is it about?” I asked. That's it, he's mad about something that I did. He's gonna leave too.

“What is this?” He placed the paper on my table with my article on being the wallflower.

“My article.” 

“I can see that. Did you take inspiration from a character? Or did you write it just with your imagination? Tell me it's either of those.” Jameson’s tone was firm.

I just stayed quiet. I'm not telling him that I'm a loser, and people hate me for that directly.

“Seriously?! I know you're shy and reserved, and don't like people. I know your family’s history. But writing that you're never been truly loved by anyone? That no one cares about you, ever?” He scoffed.

There was a moment of silence before I spoke. “It's the truth, Jameson. I'm not going to lie.” I shrugged. 

He's going to leave anyway, so what's the point of trying?

“6 months.” Was all he said.

“What?”

“We've known eacother for 6 months. And I've been nothing but nice to you. Yes, I tease and mess with you sometimes but have I ever given you the idea where I don't care about you?” He looked hurt now.

“I- It's complicated.”

“It's not, damn it. How can you not see it!” 

“See what? Cause all I'm seeing right now is my friend who is pissed at me about work, who is going to drop me like everyone else.”

Jameson frowned which made me frown. “You really think that just because I'm mad I'll drop you?”

“It's how people are, Jameson.”

“I'm not people. Those people were stupid.”

“You say this now. But I'll do something else to make you mad, and then you'll drop me.”

“You're stupid sometimes for a person who is way too good with words.” 

“What?”

“Why can't you see how much I love you?” His features relaxed, it looked like he just spilled something that he was holding for a very long time.

“You what?”

“I'm in love with you. And you're too blind to see it, and now I'm afraid you won't even believe it.”

“Jameson— I don't know what to say.”

“Just say you like me, you don't even have to love me. Say you have feelings for me, and I promise you I'll do everything to make you believe how much you can be loved. Don't push me away, don't sabotage this.”

After a few moments of silence I nodded. Jameson's shoulders relaxed as he took a step forward to kiss my forehead. “I'll do everything, okay? And you know how ‘everything’ can be when I say it.”