#// he wasn't on a date the night he was killed. he was just on the way home from running errands.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Girl Who Cheated Death

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - There was no one in any universe who would dare to approach you without fear, that is until you meet a certain Shadowsinger. Once stone cold and vicious in your own right, you soon come to realise that perhaps all it takes is a pretty male with hazel eyes to set you free.

Warnings - kinda dark reader, stone cold, lots of sass, swearing, drinking, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of trauma, some subtle sexual tension, everyone being afraid of the reader because she's giving death vibes x

Word Count - 8.9k

Physical descriptions are present in this fic.

Based on this ask! Thank you @cleverzonkwombatsludge for the request 🫶🏻

"Can I offer some criticism?"

"If it's constructive..."

"You're an idiot," the unwinding braid at your side loosened more with each twist of your fingers, and to your right, through the reflection of the recently polished vanity mirror stood Amren, your closest friend that you had gained when you had first moved to the Night Court one hundred years ago.

It had been no accident that you and Amren had met, in fact, she had been the one to seek you out after a rather intriguing show you had directed at Rita's. Amren watched man after man almost break their necks to look at you, the most beautiful resident of the Night Court, and in all of Prythian. Hair that reminded Amren of a black widow swayed behind you in perfectly loose curls, it was sinfully dark and shone in the faelight, shimmering so brilliantly that Amren had thought that threads of silken web were weaved between each glossy black strand.

Amren also remembered the dress you had worn, it was short and tight, the fabric hugged every curve of your body and kissed the thighs that were connected to those incredible taut calves. If looks could kill then the Night Court would certainly fall to its knees.

It wasn't what you looked like that caught Amren's attention, however. It was the way that every single person in that room shrunk away from your stare, a stone iced glare that was void of any life, all that lay in them was ire and boredom, which quite perfectly summed up what you felt about life in general.

The firedrake sought you out, coming by the gallery you had opened in the city which held an array of carefully collected artworks and mysteriously rare antiques, just to get a glimpse of you, to see the one who had been the first to pique her eye in centuries. Amren had not been disappointed by you. There was something about the way you carried yourself that attracted her to your aura, the perfect posture and slightly hooded eyelids that encased walnut orbs that glimmered gold in the sun. That wasn't all, no, it was also the way you spoke, so sultry and dark, but there was a certain elegance your words. A siren luring souls to the darkest depths of the ocean floor.

Rhys had once suggested that you'd never truly age considering you never smiled. That had earned him a rare small quirk of your lip, and he considered it to be his greatest achievement of his life to date.

It had made sense that the Night Court had been the place where you had chosen to settle, it had moulded very well with you, to the point where Day had become an infantile dream that was floating away in your subconscious. Forgotten.

Despite being a collector of sorts, Amren had soon found out just how far your talented talons stretched, you were incredibly well versed in old dialects, ancient symbols and traditions, a talent that Rhys had soon asked Amren to take advantage of since he was too afraid of you to ask you for aid himself.

Seemed as though the terrifying High Lord of the Night Court was actually scared of something.

"How exactly am I an idiot?" Amren enquired with darkened orbs that kept on glancing downward to the scars that littered the bare spine from the licks of Illyrian whips. They were slightly raised and pallid in comparison to the rest of your healthy glowing hue.

Untethering the last of your braid, you ran your nails over your scalp and pulled slightly, shivering at the relief that surged through you as your hair fell unbound down your spine. All the taut tension in your body quickly evaporated. Silently, you turned on your seat to face your friend, "You're asking me to revamp my evil lair to make it more welcoming for your odd little family," you said incredulously and unblinking, "You're an idiot."

Amren wasn't exactly asking you to make your own home more appeasing to the Inner Circle, she simply meant the private office that Rhys had bestowed to you for whenever he needed your help with something, and it had become a place that you frequented often. It was located in the library of the House of Wind so that your nimble fingers had access to all of the books and ancient texts they needed.

The only settling thing about that office was the view of the golden valley of Velaris, of the snow-capped mountains that loomed to the north. Everything else filled any resident with dread. Tall well-loved candles were scattered about the space, cloths stained with millennia old text hung from the ceilings, tomes lay splayed open on the desk and centre table, each depicting some form of terror. To you, your work was fascinating, studying the origins of evil and all of its forms, to others it was petrifying.

It wasn't odd to find the firedrake confined in your apartment, whether you be with her or not, glass of red in hand and reading some sort of research text. Amren often didn't even glace up at you when you entered your own home, all she noticed was your shadow gliding across the room, drowning out the golden candlelight.

"Rhys would spend more time with you if you did. He's actually really insightful, he could help you with your study."

"Why would I want to spend time with him?"

A poor attempt from Amren to try and push you into a monotone civilian life yet again.

"Fine," Amren rolled her coiling silver eyes and tutted, "Are you ready? Rhys doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Irritation was rife in her voice, you clasped a dainty blood diamond around your neck and allowed your shoulders to drop, "I don't particularly care for your High Lord's time." Rhys was not your High Lord and he knew it, he knew that you couldn't be ruled over and would never answer to anyone but yourself. A queen of her own kingdom. But one he very much wanted to keep on his side.

"Y/N," Amren bit, and you too tugged back the smirk that was quaking in the corners of your mouth.

Meeting her fiery gaze in the mirror, you rolled your head to the side in one swooped graceful motion, "I'm teasing, Amren." Rising from the bench before the vanity, you felt the silken hem of your dress brush against your feet. It was a simple garment, black buttoned up fabric, a deep v-neckline that showed the beginnings of your cleavage, short and soft floating sleeves that cuffed above your elbows.

Smirking with approval, Amren moved to the front door of your ornately beautiful apartment, a personal haven of yours that was vastly different to the office at the House of Wind. Brunette carpets thick enough to sleep upon covered the space, the walls were a shade of milked coffee, warm and inviting, and the ceilings were a soft cream and coved with intricate carvings. A large fire bundled into the far wall at the centre of a wall of windows, before it was a onyx seating area of plush deep seated sofas and armchairs.

It was charming. One of the best views of Velaris was from your living room window.

Leaving your home with the click of the lock, you followed after Amren, falling into place beside her as you walked up the winding paths to the House of Wind. The feeling of people's eyes trailing you had become something you'd become rather accustomed to, they were astounded by your beauty, amazed by how someone could look so breath-taking yet so horrifying.

The House of Wind was as it always was, incredibly luxurious in its own right and shivering at your entrance. It wasn't like the house didn't like you, it just struggled to adjust to your energy, it was starkly different to the usual joy it mostly held.

The echoing voices halted when you rounded the corner, your scent of jasmine and sandalwood soaring through the air, infecting their oxygen. Violet eyes appeared before you within a couple of moments, always wary, always laced with the tiniest bit of fear, "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Well," your eyes sliced across the room, absorbing every face and feature and feeling somewhat intrigued by a face you had never seen before. Tall and tan, shadows swirling at his shoulders, large wings that he had mindfully tucked behind his back, and shiny black hair that fell over his forehead. Rhys stood before you waiting for you to speak, your eyes found his and you hummed, tapping your finger against your clothed thigh, "Anything for the firedrake."

A chortled scoff flew from Cassian and Rhys stepped aside slightly to expose you to the general who soon choked on the air, "Something funny, Cass?" Rhys asked with a smirk, he motioned for you to find a seat and make yourself comfortable.

A deep rooted velvet armchair called to you and you moved to it, paying little attention to the hazel eyes fixated upon you. "No, not at all," Cassian sent you a tight-lipped smile which made Nesta grin, enjoying his discomfort nearly as much as you.

Flames danced in your eyes, the fire burning brightly in the fireplace that welcomed your gaze as though it was a mirror. Turning your head, you folded your hands over your thighs, feeling the exposed skin that lay there from the seamless slit in the fabric.

"How about you skip whatever small talk you were going to offer and get to the point, Rhysand?"

Widened pupils possessed Nesta's gaze, she leaned back into her seat and smirked, a wickedly feline feature, and spoke, "I like you."

No words left your lips, you held her gaze and felt your darkness bubble at her determination to withstand your stare, but she soon stood down; though, she continued to watch you, noting your posture and the way you held yourself. Nesta was in awe.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Straight to the point as always, y/n."

"Am I supposed to be anything but?" Rhys sighed, a headache already forming at his temples from your dry sassing. Perhaps he needed some of that powder that Elain had gifted to Azriel last solstice.

The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his hand to rest on Feyre's knee, a sweet gesture, "We need your help with some particular text that none of us can translate. If anyone is going to be able to decipher it then it would be you."

"What text?"

Boredom coiled in your gut, "It's the story of Koschei, we believe that there may be a key hidden within the text that could help us to defeat him." The coil loosened and your eyebrow twitched, and a dark spot to your left caught that millisecond-long expression, sliding back to its master and humming in his ear.

Koschei was a death-god, a personification of evil. To have your hands on such a text would more than aid your research. It would make you infamous in the underworld of Prythian.

"Is it in my office?" Rhys straightened and nodded stiffly; rising to your feet, you brushed down the pleats of your skirt, "I'll take a look."

Before you could move from the room, a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from behind you, beckoning and hesitant. Slowly, you turned around, noticing how Rhys was now standing, "I would like Azriel to help you with this. I believe that your collective talents will be able to decipher the message faster."

Of course. The illustrious Shadowsinger that you had never had the displeasure of meeting. Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court.

"Studies have shown that I didn't ask for your opinion, High Lord," if anyone else had used the mocking tone toward his title they would have been misted on the spot. But not you, never you. Rhys was too afraid that Hell would rise from your ashes and devour the continent if he even tried it.

A cool kiss slithered around your ankle, and when you peered down you found a shadow curling there, caressing your skin and shivering in delight. Your eyes followed the tendril back to its owner who was clearly mentally scrambling to pull his shadow back to the others. Hazel collided with molten gold and you found yourself yearning for the shadow to return.

"I have to insist," his voice wavered and it didn't go unnoticed by you.

Amren sucked in a breath, shrinking further into her spot wedged between Mor and Elain, knowing that she told had told Rhys multiple times to never order you to do anything.

"What do you fear, Rhysand?"

"I think that you'll find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he doubled down and you couldn't blame him, he was an alpha protecting his territory.

Ticking your head to the side, your eyes dragged up his body, and you smirked, a real one that made his blood chill, "Perhaps. But it's in your eyes," not giving him a chance to respond, you turned to Azriel, finding him looking up at you with an almost bewitched possession in his eyes, "Stay out of my way."

Not another word was spoken as you stalked from the room, the only sound being the footsteps of Azriel who had speedily followed after you. Neither of you spoke on the descent down to the library, even that vast space of aged excellence watched you enter; you almost floated across the room, a grace in your steps that Azriel had never seen before, and it had him needing to know more.

How Azriel had never met you astounded him, he would certainly remember a face like yours. It was one that held the power to haunt his dreams.

As promised, the texts had been left on your desk, and you moved to them instantly, tracing your fingers down the bound leather spine and examining the golden embossment, picking apart the symbols in your mind. Rounding the large oaken desk, you pulled the text with you, opening the cover and not even flinching when it thudded against the desktop.

Thick waves fell over your shoulder and you mindlessly tucked them back from where they had originated, not caring about the effect it had on the Shadowsinger who noted how your fingers grazed against your collarbone on its return to the ancient pages before your insightful eye.

"I've never been in here before," a weak attempt to strike up conversation with you. Azriel had heard much about you from Cassian and Rhys, of how awful terrifying you were, how you intimidated every single person that crossed your path and seemingly enjoyed the terror of it.

Azriel understood it, there was something about you that was unnerving, that he could understand why people were uncomfortable in your presence, but he only found himself in wonderment of it.

Without looking up, you turned the page gently and muttered, "Why would you? It's my office."

Displeasure was prominent on your tongue, the taste of it swelled in the muscle but you didn't allow it to be vile, you pulled the bile back and silently choked on it.

Azriel drank in the room, the begging to be lit candles and the large arched windows, the aged tapestries of history that were clearly too valuable to display in your gallery, "The creation of the cauldron," the words pulled you from the text and your gaze narrowed in on the Shadowsinger rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands folded neatly at his back.

"How do you know that?"

The Shadowsinger circled to face you and took a tentative step to the edge of the desk, "I've seen a couple of the same markings in a cave. This is the original?"

"Yes," there were many deplorable things you had taken part in to secure your collection as the most impressive in the entire universe, some things you weren't proud of, others, you were very much so.

"How did you get it?" Azriel admired the piece, a depiction of Prythian's creation that no one would ever guess was as important as it was, all because they couldn't read the first language of the fae.

Sitting back in your seat, you placed your magniscope on the surface, an ornate tool used by curators and researchers alike to read between the lines of existence, and watched him, "There are some things in this world that would make even your blood burn, Shadowsinger."

The way you said his name had a shudder flickering down his spine, your tone was sultry and low, like you knew of his darkness and had decided that it was a star in comparison to whatever lived within you.

A golden glow shrouded the room from the setting sun kissing the mountain peak, it washed over you, its light glittering your skin with shimmer, turning your eyes into burnished gold. The blood diamond around your neck cascaded speckles of its hue across the ceiling, and your chest rise an fell with even, calm breaths.

Forgetting the reason why he stood before you, Azriel allowed himself a moment to examine you, the beautifully loose hair that swam down that perfectly curved spine, the eyes and cheekbones, the full lips and the indents of your collarbone. You were by far the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

The stolen moment wasn't one that escaped your eye, a gentle heat pooled at your cheeks and you had no option but to look away, clearing your throat and pouring your attention back into the text in front of you.

Coiling the magniscope in your fingers, you hovered it over the written symbols on the page, moving it in line with every line and swirl you could see. It was a heavy object, and you hadn't been surprised when Amren had mistook the glass orb as a bookend.

"What do you know of Koschei?" Azriel found a place in the seat opposite you, his shadows danced from his shoulders and began to inch toward you, and he made no move or command to stop them.

"There are many legends," you began, craning your neck to peer at the top of the adjacent page, "Attacking his physical body won't harm him, he has split his soul into parts and placed them in other living creatures or sentient objects. Destroy the objects and you have a better chance of ending him."

Azriel angled himself forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "How do you know that?"

Again, without looking up, you spoke, "When you spend a lot of time in the Underworld of this continent you pick up a few things. You also learn how to decipher the truth from the lies."

Another gentle turn of the page.

The taupe scribing possessed the faintest words written in a pale gold ink, so miniscule that any other magniscope wouldn't be able to see it. Though yours wasn't just any ordinary magniscope, it was forged with the stardust of a fallen star, a star that used to burn the brightest in the northern skies.

"You know of the Underworld?"

For a moment, your gaze flickered upward, golden pools peering through your long thick lashes, "Very well."

It wasn't surprising that you had dabbled in the darkest reality of the continent, your knowledge was not cheap, and it wasn't knowledge that you could gain from books alone. Azriel wondered how many souls you had stripped from the earth on your quest for knowledge, perhaps it would cause his count to pale in comparison.

"I could only imagine what someone would do for this level of knowledge," his voice lingered, questioning, requiring to know every corner of the mind locked within the female in front of him.

"Are you trying to compare body counts, Spymaster? If so, I assume I would be disappointed with your lacklustre attempts."

Then you were back on the text, scribbling words down in the notepad to your left without even glancing to it, focused to the point where no letter strayed from the lines. But you still felt his eyes on you, waiting, scouring your face and trying to figure out why exactly he had never crossed paths with you before considering your occupation.

"Don't you have some doe-eyed damsel to go and rescue?"

Even with the fleeting few minutes spent with the Inner Circle, you saw how Elain Archeron looked at him, all love-sick and hopeful. Elain was a perfectly mundane being, content with all things bright and pretty. It was sickening.

Biting back the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, Azriel shuffled into his seat, seemingly getting more comfortable, "No."

"Shame," you mused, impressing Azriel with how you scribed, analysed and spoke all at the same time. A very powerful mind was dwelling within you, and it had his attention.

Azriel was finding your dry words quite amusing, though he was spending his time sat before you in silence, sketching every inch of your face and body to his memory.

A soft tug pulled at your brows, and if Azriel wasn't fixated upon you then he surely would have missed it. He let a minute pass, a minute where the pace of your analysation quickened alongside the rate of your writing. Again, your hair fell over your shoulder, clearly bothering you but you couldn't move it, not when you were so entranced, and it took all of his will to not do it for you.

Questioning you on your findings, your eyes held a certain twinkle to them as you explained your theory. That Koschei had in fact fractured his soul and implanted the pieces of it within other living creatures and objects, and that to hunt those objects down was the only way to be able to banish him from the world.

"Run and tell your master," you told him after you were done explaining how to find the first host of Koschei's soul, "I'm sure he will be thrilled with your input."

Which was very little, Azriel hadn't done anything other than invade your space and make himself far too comfortable, but he didn't argue, he simply stood from his seat and bowed, taking your hand in his marred digits and raising it to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles and thanking you before leaving you to your silence.

The ghost of his touch lingered on you skin, as did the licks at your calves from the shadows he hadn't cared to reign in upon his exit.

It was then that a small yet foreign warmth pooled in your chest, you rubbed the spot gingerly and sighed, returning to reality and shaking your head back to sense. Finding peace in the confined corners of your mind.

The next instance where you found yourself in Azriel's presence had been one warm afternoon in the library.

Velaris had been scorched by the sun, the summer breezes swept across the city, and you had decided to wear a simple grey dress that afternoon, it was lightweight enough to flow in the gentle caress of the wind but still managed to keep to your usual elegant yet sharp style.

Since that insisted couple of hours in your office a couple of weeks ago, you were ashamed to admit just how much your thoughts drifted to the Shadowsinger you had seen lurking in the corners of your consciousness. The darkness was lingering in the farthest reaches, as if it didn't wish to be discovered by you but couldn't steer itself away.

The ladder beneath your feet creaked as you reached across the shelf, tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you strained slightly, your fingers barely brushing against the spine of the book you needed. A familiar cool presence washed over you, trailing up your skirt and arms and extending from your fingers to remove the book from the shelf and place it in your awaiting grasp.

Peering back to the ground, you saw Azriel stood at the foot of the ladder with his hands resting at his sides; balling the skirt up in your fingers, you used the railing the lower yourself back to the earth and paused in front of Azriel who had a brow quirked in curiosity, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," his voice matched your own but he found himself faltering when you went to walk by him. His voice called out to you, "I just wanted to let you know that we found the first host."

You paused your steps and turned, "And?"

"It's destroyed," and clearly the gravity of it weighed on him, he had to have known that Koschei wasn't exactly going to make the objects easy to destroy, but it still didn't mean that it wasn't traumatising.

Understanding what he meant, at the life he had just taken to protect to continent, you took a step toward him, an olive branch of sorts, "Are you alright?"

Itching with confusion, Azriel nodded slowly, "I didn't think you cared."

You shrugged, nonchalant, and scuffed the heel of your sandal against the floor with your gentle kick, "I don't."

Azriel hummed, a serene grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "I think that you do," Azriel took a step forward and noticed how your back straightened and shoulders rolled back.

The book became plastered to your chest, "Whatever you think is of little concern to me."

Two weeks had passed, two weeks of not only searching for the first host of Koschei thanks to your wildly impressive knowledge, but two weeks of Azriel doing all he could to gain your attention. It had been difficult to see you at Rita's, swaying to the music without a care in the world beside Amren, and not be able to touch the skin that seemed as smooth as honey.

His shadows had been following you, reporting back to him of how you spent your days cooped up in your apartment reading or in your office analysing another ancient text. They reported no men, nothing untoward or damning, they simply whispering to him how pretty you were. They had been bewitched by you, utterly obsessed with everything that you were, and he couldn't blame them.

Turning on the balls of your feet again, you entered your office, leaving the door open in silent permission that Azriel basked in as he followed you inside, "I'm trying to talk to you, y/n."

A soft hum vibrated against your lips. Placing the book once glued to your chest on the centre table of the room, you faced Azriel once more. The office was cold, as was every chamber built below the main infrastructure of the house, and Azriel wondered how you could be so at home within it.

It was entrancing how a room so dark and full of evil texts and passages could make you look so ethereal. The glossed black hair he had often dreamt of running his fingers through was tied back in a loose thick braid, whisps of hair fell from the vines of it and settled over your eyes. Ornate jewellery twinkled in the pale sunlight, swirls of gold encased your fingers and wrists, and a coiled necklace that resembled a scaled serpent glided around the base of your neck.

"What would you like me to say? I did tell you how to find the first host so that you could destroy it. I don't require updates, Azriel," the movement of your tongue as you said his name for the first time had his resolve withering.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so."

Then, as though the sun was blessing the earth after eons of slumber, your lips widened into a grin, one big enough to expose your perfectly white teeth and Azriel felt the dark storm clouds in his soul splinter. A golden threat soared through him, reaching out to you and entwining itself with the thread bristling at your centre.

Sculpted fingers drifted over that spot in your chest that had become increasingly hard to ignore and you inhaled sharply. Azriel's pupils had dilated, they were wide and frenzied, and his hand was outstretched to you.

The smile on your face dropped.

"You're my mate," Azriel nodded at the words you had managed to utter, the same ones that had become lodged in his throat.

Heat prickled at his skin, nerves seeped into his bones. You were so unreadable, and Azriel was scrambling his thoughts to clear so that he may be able to figure out how you felt about it. About being fated to be his.

Azriel had learnt from Amren how unaffectionate you were, how much you hated anyone touching you. It was because of the Illyrian camps you had visited in your younger years where they had thought you a witch, and had punished you for it in a barbaric way; the evidence still lingered on your skin in long angry streaks, and Amren had admitted that night is what spurred on your need to understand the roots of evil.

It was understandable, to spend a lifetime studying the one thing that had ever truly hurt you. For what reason, Azriel didn't know, but he liked to think that it was to cause evil to cower in your presence.

Silence shrouded the room like a disease, infecting and poisoning everything in its path, and Azriel way becoming increasingly worried about how your smile had dropped. Was he truly that repulsive to you? He could only ever dream to be mated with someone like you, someone who welcomed death like an old friend and would entertain it in an eons long waltz, someone who was poised and elegant but so brilliantly lethal that it made even him shudder.

Taking an unsettling step toward you, Azriel loosened a breath when he saw that you hadn't retreated, his eyes were trained on you as he took another step, and then another, until his shadow danced with you own, "I'm your mate."

Rhys and Cassian would be mortified of the news, Azriel was sure that Rhys found you terrifying in the same way that Cassian found Bryaxis. No of that mattered though. Not to him. Not when he now belonged to a female as striking and dangerous as the blood in his veins.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at the proximity, the tendrils connected to his essence peered over his shoulders seemingly apprehensively thrilled that it was you stood before them, "Yes, you are."

Azriel's gaze drifted down to your lips and left dragged back upward to your eyes, "Can I touch you?"

A part of you froze at the desperate question. You hadn't let anyone touch you in years, you couldn't remember the last time you laid with a male or female, you couldn't remember what a simple even felt like. Amren had never even tried to get too close to you let alone anyone else.

In the first vulnerable emotion you had ever let anyone see, you sheepishly nodded, eyes boring into his own and he didn't break his stare as his fingers twitched toward you, ghosting along your skin and melting at the heat they found there. Mindlessly, you shifted when his palm lingered a whisker away from the slope of your neck and his eyes became stitched with concern but softened when you had won the fight against your fear to stand still once more.

Azriel's hand lowered, resting against your skin that was softer than his imagination could ever fathom. His thumb drifted down the column of your throat and you swallowed, hard.

"You don't have to accept this or me," he told you, his voice tantalisingly cooing to you in a hush above a whisper, "But gods, y/n. I really hope that you do."

Azriel saw through you then, through that façade you wore like a medal. And he found what saw to be quite heart-breaking. Stood before him was a woman, one that possessed a brilliant mind and equally captivating beauty, but beneath it all was the girl who was brutalised so badly that she vowed to never allow another person close again.

"You're my mate," you spoke with a certain conviction that hadn't graced your words the last time, Azriel watched your lashes flutter, and he felt his soul singing when those eyes found him again, "I'm not letting you go."

Gracefully, your fingers curled around his wrist, your index finger sleeping just over the faint beat of his pulse, just where his marred flesh faded to memory, "You accept it?"

"I- yes, I do."

Jasmine and sandalwood drowned his lungs, and he would have died happy just to be able to say that he knew what your shampoo smelt like. Papaya and coconuts. He gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, noting how much you loved the feeling of it as you shivered in his arms. Azriel pressed a dainty but tender kiss to your brow, and it had you realising that maybe you were allowed to give yourself this one thing that the younger version of you had always dreamt of.

Azriel hadn't tried to push you further, he knew that the moment of allowing someone to touch you, to hold you, was far more momentous than finding your mate.

Instead he asked you a simple question, it was more of an offering than anything. To spend time together away from the prying eyes of his family, so that you may become comfortable with one another before allowing anyone else into it. You had agreed. Eagerly.

So the next few weeks drifted by, afternoon walks along the Sidra, morning breakfast drop-offs at your office, after hours visits to the gallery where you would tell him of your adventures and how on some occasions you barely survived. Azriel was in complete awe of you, he sat beside you on your love seat completely captivated by you, his fingers tracing small circles into your thighs and his shadows curling through your hair. And that smile, gods, that smile could make even the most poised male lose all sense. It was bright and gleaming, and your skin glowed with the happiness of it.

Then you had decided to break the news to the Inner Circle, and as you stood before those doors oozing with grandeur, you felt nerves pinch at your skin, "Are you ready?" Azriel's fingers were tangled with yours and he bowed his head to place his lips on your bare shoulder.

"Yes." Azriel gave your hand a gentle tug, willing you to move from your spot located just behind him.

The aura of the house had shifted, now, it was inquisitive, glancing to the mirrors and then back to your hands to see if what it was seeing was real. Laughter echoed at the end of the hall, your scent had usually silenced them by now, but not this time. Now that your scent was mixed with Azriel’s it seemed much less threatening. Pity.

Turning the corner, you became startled by the smash of a glass, shards of it glided along the floor and fell at your feet. Looking up, you found Mor frozen in place, wide eyes and bewildered. The rest of the room craned to attention, collectively moving their eyes from Mor, to you, and then to Azriel, and then to your entwined fingers.

It took a minute, but you could have sworn you heard the bell ding in Cassian’s empty brain, “Oh shit,” he rose to his feet, wings flaring slightly as a wide grin gripped his mouth.

Rhys appeared before you both, gaze lowered in surprise, clearly trying to picture a timeline in his mind. The High Lord looked to his Spymaster, “Are you-“

“Mates?” Azriel finished incredulously, knowing that your moulded scents had already infected the room, and turned his head to you, orbs gleaming and adoration speckled on his cheeks, “Yes.”

Elain Archeron had sank into her seat, doing her best to not pay attention to you in particular whilst her stomach churned with the scent seeping into her bones. Subconsciously, you moved closer to Azriel, a slightly territorial action that made him smirk.

It had been a brief conversation that you had suffered through, the one where Azriel had made it very clear that the situation with Elain was brutally one-sided. Azriel had only sought to be nice to her, to help her to adjust to her new body and life because she was Feyre's sister and Feyre was his High Lady, and she had taken his kindness for something much more than what it truly was.

Leading you to the velvet armchair that you would usually slither into, Azriel sat and motioned for you, turning you in his hands so that his touch never left your thighs, and pulled you to his lap. A bashful smile formed on your face and you could feel the eyes of the room on you, equally as confused as shocked.

"Since when?" Nesta had asked after sipping from the goblet of red wine between her fingers, the liquid staining her plump pale lips, and she used her thumb to wipe a singular droplet before it ran down her chin. Her eyes held an emotion you couldn't quite make out, Azriel had admitted that Nesta was just as unreadable as you at times, but the way his digits dug into your flesh told you that what the eldest sister was feeling was an assortment of jealousy. Not toward you, toward him.

"The bond snapped just over a month ago," Nesta hummed and burrowed herself into the cushions, pouting slightly, like she was an infant who had her favourite toy taken from her grasp. "We wanted to explore it before we properly accepted it or told anyone."

That made Elain's doe-like stare move from the floor to your mate who was sat with you on his thighs rubbing small circles into your shoulders, "So you haven't accepted it?"

Your jaw clenched at the question, the question that was perfumed with the last splatters of hope, "If you're asking if we've fucked yet, Elain, then no, we haven't. Does that answer your question?"

Azriel's fingers moved to play with the ends of your hair, knowing that the sensation of slight tugging over your scalp relaxed you infinitely, "I only ask because I know how physical Azriel can be. Surely you've heard the stories?" Elain feigned innocence, Feyre sighed from her seat and glanced to you apologetically, silently begging you to not tear her sister apart.

In fact, you had heard the stories. Trying to ignore the gossip of the city was difficult considering how used you were to eavesdropping into certain conversations in the underworld. So, unfortunately, you had heard about Azriel's many lovers, and you'd be silly to not feel insecure of it, but you wouldn't let her see that. Ever.

Craning your neck to the side, you smiled, your iced gaze slicing into her and making Elain shrink under the weight of it, "With all due respect, which is none," you leaned to the side, accepting the goblet of wine that the house had presented to you in premature thanks for the forthcoming words you were about to utter, "Your existence gives me a headache, so please go and find somewhere else to be."

Rhys' eyes widened but he suppressed the smirk forming on his face, hiding his lips behind his fist and closing his eyes. Not even Feyre or Nesta spoke up over it, they clearly knew better than to challenge you. Cassian however didn't really care if Elain saw his joy at your words, he had been growing more tired each passing day of her pining affection toward his brother, and now he understood why Azriel had withdrawn further from the female over the last few weeks.

It was because of the unique female before their very eyes.

The middle sister went to open her mouth, to retort something that wouldn't even irk you, but Amren shushed her, halted the words in her throat and willed her to die with them, "Don't even try it," Amren served you more than her own court, finding a kindred spirit within you, and she would shame herself if she let Elain speak to you as if you were nothing.

Elain would never understand someone like you. She wasn't worthy of it anyway.

No one had ever tried to understand Amren, not really, they thought her too complicated to be worth it. As long as they brought her pretty jewels and respected her then there was little else to worry of in their eyes. But you, you had understood her instantly and had found a particular solace with her, like you were peering through a mirror and she was your reflection.

Sipping the potent liquid in your goblet, you bowed your head to her, quietly thanking your friend for halting the small spat before it escalated and ruined the evening entirely. Tonight was not about Elain and her fragile feelings, it was about showing the Inner Circle who now owned your heart.

So, the middle sister vacated the room feigning a migraine, and the aura instantly lifted. A soft smile formed on your lips when your eyes landed on your mate, your entire face relaxed; entwining your fingers with his, you blushed when he pressed his lips to your knuckles and dragged your index finger down his cheek.

The Inner Circle watched on, knowing that they had never seen Azriel so taken by anything. They feasted on the sight of his shadows purring through your hair, on your colliding smiles, and how your gentle words to one another were contained in an ornate bubble around your bodies.

As the evening continued, you found yourself quite enjoying their company, you sat bundled into Azriel's embrace, finding comfort in the arms that were wrapped around you whilst Cassian spewed war stories, bragging at his prowess.

"Not to brag," you began with a smirk, "But at least eight men have described me as 'terrifying', and two of them are in this room. Choke on that ego, Cassian."

Nesta's grin turned feline and excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn't give to spar with you, to have your legs wound around her and that tense gaze splitting her in half. From the whisperings of Prythian, it was very clear that you had done some rather diabolical things in order to obtain certain artifacts that had been locked away in your most prized and personal collection. So prized that its location was unknown. She could only imagine what trinkets you possessed, and the things you had witnessed.

"What about Azriel?!"

The Shadowsinger shrugged, his hand resting on your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, "I've only ever been entranced by my mate, Cassian," Azriel drawled, sipping the amber liquid swirling in his rocks glass like molten bronze, "It's you and Rhys who are afraid of her."

"If it's any consolation, I don't blame you."

Cassian frowned, turning to Nesta and asking, "Are you scared of her?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly, so quickly that you had quirked your brow at the sound, "I find y/n to be quite exciting."

"Exciting?" Cassian moved to Feyre and asked the same question, his manhood decaying when she too said that you didn't scare her, "Mor?"

The blonde who could not rival your beauty had always watched you from afar, and had always enjoyed how you made males squirm. Mor rose her glass to the stars and stated, "Bring every man you meet to their motherfucking knees, y/n."

"Amen to that," Amren tipped her glass in response, downing the rest of the thick red sap and finally feeling at home in the presence of her family thanks to you, and she eternally thanked the male sat beside you for being able to breathe some light into the storm cloud that was your mind.

"Mother above," Rhys grumbled, the women in his life uniting and itching to wreck havoc. The action of Rhys swiping his hand down his face, dragging the skin slightly toward in frustration, made a deep chuckle float from your lips, so serene that Nesta likened the sound to a siren call and found herself drawn to it. "Did I just make you laugh?" Rolling your eyes, you nodded at the High Lord who turned toward his mate, "This is the best day of my life," then back to you, "Does this mean that we're friends?"

Rhys waited expectantly, childlike orbs pleading to you with their innocence. You had no friends bar Amren and you were content with that. It meant that you only had one thing to lose. But as Azriel laid his hand on the small of your back, gaining your attention and giving you an expression of promise, the resolve of your solitude cracked, "Why not?"

The door to the River House flew open, a sudden shrill chill soaring through the air from the wild winds battering against the city, no doubt spurred on by your fury.

Many months had passed, and in that time you had truly blossomed, sure you still wore the mask of the devil on your features in public, but when you were with the Inner Circle, a group of people you now proudly belonged to, that mask drifted away like ash in the autumn breeze; and when Azriel was beside you, it felt as though warmth and happiness was all that you ever knew.

Much to Elain's upset, you and Azriel had officially accepted the bond and had locked yourselves away for four weeks to make the most out of every single moment together, and Rhys had been understanding enough of the bond between you both to not drag your mate away on another mission. The bond between you and Azriel was something that Rhys had never seen before, not even between him and Feyre.

"She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had."

The ceremony itself had been astonishing.

The women of the Inner Circle had spent the better part of two days dressing your apartment for the occasion and Feyre had made it quite clear that the upcoming ceremony was going to make theirs look ridiculous in comparison. Rhys was split between jealousy and awe when he saw it.

No one had ever stepped into the apartment beside Amren and Azriel, he had decided to move into the apartment after your return from the four-week sabbatical at the cabin, it was as though you were gifting them with the last part of you, allowing them to see what they could never fathom.

Faelights were strewn across the ceiling, curling around the arched windows that displayed the golden valley of the city in a way Rhys had never been able to appreciate before; tucked between the vines of the lights was fresh foliage, an array of green hue ferns caressing fully blossomed white roses and pale blue peonies. Sprigs of cedar and rosemary had been wove between the foliage and flowers alongside splinters of sandalwood, filling the room with the physical aspects of your scents.

Only the Inner Circle had been invited, and as you were dressing in your room with Amren, you could hear Nesta whining of her foolish jealousy of having to watch Azriel marry you. Amren had simply raised a brow and smirked at you through the mirror as she finished securing your veil to the back of your head.

There was no one you would want to share the moment with other than her.

Amren had blindfolded you, leading you through the home so that the gift wouldn't be ruined just so that you could get ready together, for the most important and deserving night of your life.

The dress that you had meticulously chosen was the most incredible garment Amren had ever seen, so much so that the first time you had tried it on in front of her, she had nearly cried at the beauty of it; and there you now stood, twisting in the mirror and running your hands down the hem of your veil and then your hips. The dress was made entirely of white lace that you had imported from the Day Court, an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves that kissed your wrists, it was elegant and graceful, and made the freckles of your trauma glow like shooting stars.

A gentle knock had sounded at the door and Rhys stepped in, taking one look at you and finding his breath catching in his throat. "You look amazing," he breathed, approaching you with his hands deep within his pockets.

The High Lord had been honoured when you had sheepishly asked him to walk you down the aisle; Rhys had found himself consumed with the need to protect you, after seeing your guard disappear, he saw who you truly were, a woman who just wanted to be loved and protected, and ready to allow other people to do it for her after spending so long doing it herself.

"Are you ready?" Inhaling deeply, you nodded and turned to him, noting the outstretched hand before you and feeling your usual anxiety bubbling in your gut. Rhys, realising that he shouldn't have done something so bold, went to retreat but halted when you took a small step toward him, reaching your fingers out to his palm and sliding them into his grasp.

Azriel was right, your skin was a smooth as honey.

A gentle smile of triumph later, you spoke, "I'm ready."

It was that moment that Rhys was begging you to remember as you barrelled through his house, no doubt heading straight for him in the confinements of his office.

He could feel your anger slam through the walls, your footsteps sounding up the staircase and stopping at the top of the hall, a pause to remember just how much you liked him before stalking down the hall and bursting into his office. Rhys cringed, knowing what was coming as you strode to his desk and slapped your palms flat against the wood.

"If you ever," you pointed your perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Send my mate back to me in that state again. I. Will. Destroy. You."

The snarl of your words sent a shiver coursing down his spine, and in that moment you were the y/n he had met one-hundred years ago. Cold. Distant. Almost demonic.

In his defence, he hadn't sent Azriel on an overly dangerous mission, it wasn't his fault that his Spymaster was ambushed in The Middle. Azriel's spilled blood was entirely his own fault in Rhys' eyes, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt, y/n."

The rushed footsteps of another sounded in the hall, and when Rhys looked past your deeply heaving form, he was relieved beyond compare when he saw a bruised Azriel approaching, "Angel, it wasn't his fault. I was distracted," his voice grew louder as he paced closer to the pair of you, appearing at your side and turning your head in his fingers to face him, "I was thinking about you and I didn't hear them coming."

Watching your shoulders drop, Rhys sighed and wiped away an invisible bead of sweat from his brow, sitting back down and continuing his viewing just as you tilted your head to the side and popped out your bottom lip.

"You were?" Azriel's eyes softened and he dipped his gaze to meet yours, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done. You were attacked because you were thinking about me, you actually bled because you were thinking about me?"

Rhys could only watch on perplexed at your words, you threw yourself into Azriel's arms, muttering small apologies for brushing against the bruises littering his abdomen, "She's crazy."

The Shadowsinger could only huff, too entrapped by you to really reprimand him, "Yeah," his eyes opened lazily, brimming with exhaustion, "But she's my crazy."

Azriel's shadows curled over your shoulders and shuddered, crying to be as close to you as possible, like they were trying to entwine with your soul so that you one day may carry them with you wherever you walked. In whatever world.

A bond like yours was made to topple temples and shatter worlds, it was made to transcend time and space; and as you wrapped an arm around your mate and led him from the office, not without sending one more warning glare to the male you had come to love as a brother, Rhys knew that no matter where either of you went, there would be no place that you could travel to where the other would not follow.

Author’s Note

Hope you enjoy 👉🏼👈🏼

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#acotar imagine #acotar #acotar fanfiction #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #elain archeron #rhys acotar #mor acotar #amren acotar #amren #pro amren #cassian acotar #azriel fluff

[artistic-cannibal]

~An Unhealthy Obsession (Stalker Cillian Murphy X Reader) Headcanons!

Summary: You ended your relationship with Cillian ten years ago due to his toxic, possessive, manipulative, and obsessive behavior; little did you know that he was back again and he was here to make you his forever.

Warnings: smut, stalking, possessive behavior, breaking-in, curse words.

Cillian would regularly call you by an unknown number to which you would answer. When you asked who it was, there was silence; Your voice made Cillian melt.

Cillian got so obsessed with you that he would frequently masturbate while thinking about you, groaning, and sometimes yelling your name as a way to vent his frustration and sexy wants. he developed an addiction, through frequent masturbation and pornography, 

Cillian has been stubborn since he was a child; if he wants something, he will get it, and this behavior did not change as he grew older, because he wanted Y/N, only Y/N, and he will have her no matter what.

 Finding out where Y/N lived, her home address, new friends, the office that she worked at, wasn't hard for Cillian, he had his own way to get information about Y/N.

Cillian would often break into Y/N's house when Y/N was not at home and once he placed hidden cameras and microphones in every corner and rooms of the house. So, while Y/N thought she was at the most comfortable and private place in the whole world, Cillian would notice her every move, from morning when you wake up till late at night when you fall asleep, it was a way Cillian felt he was closer to you. A sense of relief that you were safe was in his mind. Looking at you fall asleep made him fall asleep.

Sometimes he would hide under your bed and sometimes in your closet, till you come back home. He liked looking at you sleep and loved hearing your soft breaths while sleeping. 

Sometimes he would mix sleeping pills in your food so you would faint, and he could have his way with you.

Sometimes you would wake up with a heavy head with unusual bruises and hickeys on the most intimate areas of your body like your neck, your back, your inner thighs, etc. It would even hurt down there.

You never realized you slept so messily, like your bed sheets would all be creased, your bed would look like it was not in the position it was supposed to be. It looked like you just had rough sex with someone.

Once you decided to start dating this amazing guy named Alex, and it was not very long after Cillian got to know about it. His jealousy reached the highest levels and out of anger and love, he would kill Alex in the most terrible way ever.

Even after murdering your date, his anger didn’t lower and he finally decided to teach you a lesson. So one night, when you were fast asleep, he came out of the closet and hurriedly tied your hands and legs with ropes. You tried to scream but he had put his hands over our mouth. There was no way to escape.

“You think you could run away from me, kitten? You thought you could cheat me like this. I will teach you a lesson you will never forget.”

And then everything went black, he fucked you like it was your last day on this earth. Like an animal.

#oppenheimer #cillian #peaky blinders #cillian murphy gif #cillian murphy #dk jonathan crane x reader #tommy shelby #jonathan crane #thomas shelby #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian x fem!reader #thomas shelby imagine #cillianmurphy #tommy shelby smut #robert fischer #cillian fic #breakfast on pluto #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders

[boyfriaends]

what if you could date a ghost?

#𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ blossom is speaking. › ooc tag. #// OKAY SO HE WAS KILLED IN A SITUATION OF /if i cant have you all to myself then nobody else can/ #// like he went on ONE date with someone. got not good vibes. put that person on his block list and that person did NOT take that well. #// he wasn't on a date the night he was killed. he was just on the way home from running errands. #// he fell off the face of the earth. labeled missing then found out to be dead. taken off the roster except #// his name pops back into the boyfriend for hire booking app for certain people but the app never keeps record of it #// he's haunting the app. he's appearing before certain people. HE'S DEAD yet you can touch him. he's FREEZING to the touch #// only certain people can he appear before. #// there's no leads in his case by the way. IT'S ALMOST LIKE NOBODY CARES #// which is fucking sad if you think about it. #// his eyes were brown but after his death they've lost all the life. there's NO LIGHT in them #// i had to have one supernatural kind of oc here you need to understand #// i also blame rue for this idea because rue said ghost and I RAN WITH THE IDEA SO FAST #// anyways im rambling holy shit

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?

#txt #might delete this later but i also might not because my irritation and rage is real and i shouldnt have to so constantly discard it #i am so tired of constantly putting it aside #i want your blood in my fucking teeth. and it's your fault i want it there- certainly- because I TRY. I try so hard not to feel this way #but eventually you get tired of those little games too #okay I drafted this for a minute bc idk if this fucker is actually spending the night or not i just know he took off his belt. BUT THEN ONE #+ OF THESE FUCKERS DECIDED TO START TALKING ABOUT SPIDERS. A THING THAT I HAVE A VERY BAD PHOBIA ABOUT. I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU #thinking of killing and maiming and maiming and killing and killing and shredding and tearing and killing and- #seriously though what. the fuck. you even go ''oh they're not gonna like this'' THEN HOW ABOUT YOU DONT FUCKING SAY IT #ohh and now you're sitting here making plans for when you go out without me next! I'm going to make you a bloody smear on my fucking floor #i am going to Dissect you. I'm going to rip you apart and feed you to the local strays and csrrion birds. #not even getting up and leaving right fucking now would assuage me. i wish i wasn't so full of fucking hate but you just keep adding fuel + #+to the fire #im so tired. I'll come back with a ''im fine now'' if he fucking leaves but im going to seethe now. im so fucking angry. #how do you fucks continually just bounce between the topics that makes me feel Most Violent Towards You? literally how do you not realize i #+ want you dead at this point? how do you not realize the grave you've dug for yourselves in my mind? #i dont fucking mask it that well. i know i dont. and still you fucking do this #((part of why it being a bar specifically that bothers me besides the very deliberate and careful avoidance of mentioning it to me is that #+*one of you is at serious risk for becoming an alcoholic. why the fuck are you being enabled this way?*)) #((if i was dating someone with a genetic predisposition of alcoholism i would make your regular dates nights- idk- NOT THE FUCKING BAR + #+ DISTRICT. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING CARE ABOUT THEM? DO YOU? This fucking boils my god damn blood.)) #(ultimately its their decision if they want to fucking drink yeah sure whatever YOU DONT NEED TO REGULARLY AND READILY ENABLE IT. BASTARD.) #(If they want to drink so fucking bad- if they push for the bars- JUST BUY SOME ALCOHOL AND BRING IT FUCKING HERE. It limits how much they+ #+can have for one- and it would isolate me from you two less! just as an added fucking bonus! but no very unreasonable of me. what was i + #+thinking? clearly not about them 🙄) #i might be a little out of line here. i can admit that. but if anyone spent a week in my fucking shoes back when they first got together + #+and then now? you would fucking understand. #and they just. keep. talking. to eachother. no attempts to include me. not even glances my way. like always. #''oh nothing will change'' IT FUCKING CHANGED. I want to hurt you so bsdly for that lie with ever passing day. do you even know it was a li #do you? anyway was abt to post this and noticed a gif i have of a woman ripping her shirt off so im going to stare at that until im calm ig.

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his. A/N: He's never unmasked so ANY Ghostface with a 🍆. Thank you so much for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of the engagement & enthusiasm so keep that in mind. night walks coded. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, ghostface calls himself daddy once, peeping tom, dirty talk, masturbation (both), knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names (baby, sugar, nasty). NO USE OF Y/N. 

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

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

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #mickey altieri x reader #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #ghostface x you #slasher fanfiction #danny johnson x reader #cw noncon #slasher smut #tw noncon #ghostface #slasher fucker #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mickey altieri #ghostface ☠️ #every inch ☠️

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ staying the night at your ex-husband's house was a mistake. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. you and gojo have a daughter. oral (m. and f. recieving), satoru calls you a slut + whore, degradation mixed with praise, mocking, dacryphilia.

author's note: edit—crying bcs an irl read this and alluded to it in one of our convos pls actually kill me /hj

"hey, sweetheart," the man holding your daughter's hand says casually, as if he doesn't know how much you hate the pet name. "you took your sweet time."

a familiar scowl makes its way onto your face and you cross your arms. "satoru, will you ever stop calling me that?" you ask exasperatedly, pressing two of your fingers into your temples.

six years.

you've known satoru for six years, and you were his wife for four of them. now, after a long, painful road, you two were finally divorcées.

it's been a year since you and satoru ended things, and sure, it was hard for all of you, but life moved on. your daughter, to her delight, still gets to see her father on weekends. and unfortunately, you usually tagged along.

"mommy, can we stay for the night?" your four year old asks, looking up at you with big, shiny eyes. "please?"

you hesitate — if it were up to you, you wouldn't stay in this house, the one you once lived in any longer. "sorry, pumpkin. i think we should go. wouldn't wanna intrude on daddy's space any longer."

you hate the look on satoru's face when you refer to him in the same way your daughter does. fucking pervert.

"you two can stay as long as you want," satoru interjects smoothly. he smiles lazily, kneeling down to your daughter's height and ruffling her hair. "it's kinda late, isn't it? i'd hate for you to have to drive all the way back in the dark."

"yeah, mummy!" your daughter says, nodding along to satoru's words. "i'm tired."

you wince and ignore the smug grin on satoru's face as he stands back up with a soft grunt. "we should head home, kiddo. i bet your dad has work to do, and we have our own house."

satoru frowns slightly at the last statement, but he doesn't even consider shooting back — not in front of his daughter. "sweetheart," he says to you, voice coated in that sickeningly sweet tone that you hated, "it's late. and i don't have any work."

when satoru sees the way you scowl at him, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "you have any other reasons why you wanna leave?"

none that you need to know.

both your ex-husband and your daughter, who takes after her dad more, take your silence as grudging agreement. 

"hey, kid, d'you want to go to bed?" satoru fondly asks your daughter, ruffling her hair again. when she nods, sleepiness evident in her eyes, satoru scoops her up and carries her off to her room without looking back.

when they turn the corner into your daughter's room, you sigh and plop down on satoru's couch. your ex-husband was an infuriatingly good father, and it pissed you off. 

a couple minutes later, satoru strolls out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

"so, babe, you dating anyone?" satoru says conversationally as he plops down on the couch next to you. he's close enough to make you tense, but stays just out of your personal space.

"what's it to you if i am?" you mutter, ignoring the pet name. you know that if you tell him to stop, he'll just say it more, so you don't bother.

he scoffs and faces you, resting his back against the arm of the couch. "what's up your ass today?"

"fuck off, satoru."

satoru whistles and tsks at you, shaking his head. "language, sweetheart. you kiss our daughter with that mouth?" 

after a couple seconds, his expression softens and he studies your face carefully. "what's on your mind?"

and just like that, you're back to the times when the two of you were happy. back when satoru wasn't such a dipshit and actually cared about how you felt.

unfortunately, those times were over.

long over, you remind yourself as you dig your nails into the palm of your hand. "nothing you need to be concerned about," you reply. your tone is clipped, and the words come out harsher than you meant them to.

satoru doesn't seem to mind. in fact, he has a lopsided grin on his face as he scoots closer to you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"you wanna fuck it out?"

his words are so unexpected that your mouth almost drops open. thankfully, it doesn't, but a couple minutes later, your legs do.

"fuckkk," you moan, tilting your head back as satoru's tongue trails a stripe up your slit. 

"keep it down, sweetheart," satoru says without looking up. "don't wan' to wake up our daughter, do ya?"

you hum in response, physically covering your mouth with one of your hands to muffle the sounds escaping the confines of your lips.

in the year that you and satoru had ended things until now, you'd slept with a couple guys. you'd even dated one or two of them, but god, none of them could use their mouth like satoru could.

satoru can't help but smile as he eats you out, pulling away momentarily to shake his head at you. "tsk, you were so mean to me earlier. and now look at you." he dips his head to nip at your clit and grins when he feels you flinch.

"i've barely even started and you're already drippin' all over my sheets," he mutters, lips brushing against your inner thigh. "fuck, takin' my tongue so good, you little slut."

"satoru, i w-wanna cum," you mewl, shuddering when his tongue re-enters your folds. "wan' you inside me."

"i already am, dummy."

you feebly attempt to swat his head in response before scowling and insisting that he knew what you meant.

satoru scoffs as he pulls himself up to face level to you. he readjusts his position over you so your back is pressed into the mattress underneath him before pressing his lips to your ear.

"let's put that mouth of yours to use, yeah?" he mumbles, slipping two fingers underneath his sweatpants' waistband and tugging him off. 

it's been years since you last fucked with satoru, and in that time you had forgotten just how pretty he was. you'd never admit it out loud, but you really didn't mind the reminder. setting into a comfortable position, you wrap your lips around his cock, relishing the way his moans get louder and louder.

you hum slightly, resisting the urge to smile when you feel satoru shake from the vibration. but god, his reaction when you run your tongue over his tip? priceless.

"fuck, baby, it's been too long since you've sucked me off. forgot how good you were- aah," he cuts himself off with a breathy moan. "fuckkk."

you briefly stop to look up at him with a cheeky smile. "you still moan like a girl, satoru."

"and you're as much of a slut for me as ever," he grumbles, reaching down and pushing your head into his painfully hard cock again. "d-don't stop, baby. feels s' good."

satoru's moans only get louder from there, until you have to be the one reminding him that your daughter's asleep two doors down.

"m' gonna cum," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hair and tangling his long fingers in it. "swallow all of it, yeah? don't waste a drop."

you nod your head obiediently, using your tongue just the way you know he's always liked to push him closer and closer to the edge until–

"fuckin' whore," satoru gasps, groaning loudly as he cums in your mouth, hips grinding against your face. "aah, missed your s-slutty tongue, baby, fuck."

"missed your girly moans," you manage to gasp before his tip hits the back of your throat, painfully so.

"shut up and swallow," satoru commands, tugging on your hair just enough to make you cry out. "yeah, who's moaning like a slut now, hmm?"

after you swallow all his cum and lick your now-swollen lips, satoru has you open your mouth so he can check. 

"good girl, looks like there's at least one thing you can do right, even if it is just sucking me off. c'mere," he mutters, pinning you down on the mattress and making the bedsprings creak loudly. "m' gonna fuck you, m'kay?"

you nod, reaching out to stroke his saliva-covered cock. "y-yes, please, satoru."

your ex-husband, who you should really not be fucking with, looks down at you with a smirk and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips. "you look so pretty, baby. all covered in my cum, never looked hotter."

he nudges your legs apart with his knee before pushing himself into you, gritting his teeth through a smug grin when you cry out in pain. "careful, baby. wouldn't wanna wake up our daughter with your slutty moans, would ya?"

"s-satoru, hurts s' much," you whine, pawing at his chest. "you're too big, i can't-"

"you're too big, i can't," satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. "how do you think our daughter was made, baby? did the storks just drop her off?"

his next thrust is particularly harsh, and something about your pained cry almost makes him cum again on the spot. "fuck, we should do this more often," satoru cooes, reaching up and stroking your cheek. "wait, you cryin'?"

yes, you were crying. your cheeks were wet with a mixture of your tears and the remainder of his cum from earlier, and fuck, all you could think about was satoru's cock. so much for being so over him.

satoru laughs, shaking his head and slowing his pace to give you a kiss. "just when i thought you couldn't get any prettier, you gotta go and prove me wrong," he mumbles, licking his lips. "god, you're fucking beautiful."

he presses his lips to yours again, this time letting his tongue slip into your mouth. "i missed you so much, baby. i still do," he mutters in between kisses. he's controlling the pace, purposefully making each kiss's ending sudden as to not allow you to talk — only him.

"you know how many times i've jacked off to you?" satoru breaths, reaching down to grab your thighs and push you impossibly deeper into him. "you know how fuckin' much i want to put a ring on your finger?"

"satoru, i-" you try to say, but his mouth is on yours before you can finish your sentence. and a couple seconds later, more words are waterfalling out of him.

"fuck, baby, you have no idea. i fucked up, but i swear i've changed. c'mon, give me one chance, i-"

"mummy? daddy?"

you and satoru both flinch and whip your heads towards the door when you hear your daughter's voice, preparing to make up some far-fetched story to tell her besides we were fucking.

thankfully, the universe allows you two seconds to cover yours and satoru's bodies with a blanket before your daughter opens the door and pokes her head inside. "i heard noises."

you look at satoru for help making up an excuse, and thankfully he has one ready to go. 

"oh, we were just watching a movie," he lies, running a hand through his hair. "go back to bed, kiddo. we'll tuck you back in in a second, yeah?"

your daughter looks at you before looking back at satoru and nodding. 

"close the door, please!" you call as she turns to leave. when the door shuts behind her, you let out a long exhale and bury your head in satoru's chest.

and to your horror, the door opens once more.

your daughter looks at you with shiny, curious eyes. "mommy, are you and daddy back together?"

satoru saves you from having to answer that impossible question with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. "go back to bed, pumpkin. i'll be there to tuck you in."

ten seconds after the door shuts for what you hope is the final time, you turn and glare at satoru. "you're gonna tuck her in?"

satoru scoffs in mock disbelief, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking you up and down. "if you wanna tuck in our four year old daughter covered in my cum, be my guest."

you nudge his arms off of you and bury your face in a pillow, groaning softly. "fuck you, satoru."

"love you too, sweetheart."

#osaemu #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

[lovifie]

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission. 

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside. 

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size. 

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him. 

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was. 

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning. 

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it. 

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny. 

Not because they would have not loved him back. 

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask. 

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one. 

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body. 

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now. 

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast. 

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest. 

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing. 

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too. 

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms. 

Warm and breathing. 

He can only imagine what you went through. 

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse. 

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him. 

He already knew that. 

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment. 

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny. 

A scarred, angry Johnny. 

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease. 

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel. 

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately. 

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart. 

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else. 

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other. 

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning. 

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes. 

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked. 

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him. 

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't. 

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest. 

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon. 

Not the greatest first impression. 

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years? 

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour. 

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection. 

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him. 

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up. 

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him. 

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you. 

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat. 

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care. 

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name. 

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear. 

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length. 

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed. 

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

#call of duty #ghostsoap #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #soapghost #simon riley #cod smut #ghost smut #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #soap x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #ghoap #ghoap x reader #soap #call of duty smut #john mactavish #soap smut

[hiraya-rawr]

— oh and by the way im married (zhongli) .

synopsis !! zhongli neglects to inform his friends that he's married.

contains !! they/them reader but referred to as wife, comedic dialogue

Z H O N G L I

Perhaps it's the fact that you've been married for centuries that informing others didn't seem to be a priority for Zhongli.

It wasn't obvious either. He had his day job and you had yours. To regular couples, the amount of distance you two spend would be a little strange, but time is something you have in abundance so it didn't really matter when you spend a few days apart doing your day jobs.

It was Hutao who brought it up the on the evening's Lantern Rite dinner.

"Aiyaya, it seems like everybody alive and dead has a date for this year's lantern rite."

"Hahaha! And here we are celebrating a feast with new and old friends. It doesn't sound like much of a loss to me." Venti laugjs, pouring himself a drink that threatens to overflow from his hand.

"I'm not saying it's a loss, I'm simply wondering wouldn't some of you want to spend the night with a special someone?" She smirks, eyes scanning the group. Chongyun coughs into his cup as Xiao averts his gaze from the troublemaker.

"If you're asking for my opinion, I'd say everyone here is quite special to me," Lumine smiles warmly before glancing at the two archons and yaksha, "I'm sure there's still time for dating in the future. We're not that old."

"Well. . ." Hutao turns to Zhongli. He raises a brow, placing down his cup.

"May I ask why you're staring at me, Director Hu?"

"No reason~ It's just, as your boss, of course I'm a little bit concerned. Aren't you wasting your youth by not going out on dates, mister Zhongli? I'm sure there's a line of Liyuens who would love to–"

A burst of laughter comes from the green bard. "Oh, him? On a Lantern Rite date with someone else? (Name) would surely kill him."

"(Name)?" Everyone questions.

"Huh? He didn't tell you?" Venti tilts his head.

Zhongli coughs, "Ah. . . Please don't be concerned about my dating life, Director Hu. After all, I am already married."

Silence.

A cup drops.

Tea spills (literally).

Then,

"Married?!" The restaurant shakes as Hutao and Lumine jolt upright, hands slamming the table.

"Married." Zhongli confirms.

"What! For how long? When? What's their name? Why have you never–"

Zhongli hushes, trying to calm his boss from jumping over the table. His face dusts a light pink, perhaps embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

"For a few. . . years now. As you know, they're (Name). And as for why I never mentioned my wife. . ." He glances at the crowd, ". . . I simply forgot."

"You. . . forgot," Xingqiu slowly repeats.

"Yes, it seems I've forgotten to inform everyone. Then again, is it not obvious that I'm a married man?"

Chongyun covers his face in his hands, processing the whole ordeal, "Thinking back. . . mister Zhongli always had a domestic kind of aura. It seems so obvious now."

"Wait, wait, wait! How come I didn't know about this? We work together almost everyday! And why does Venti know! Didn't you two just met! Do you even have a ring?" Hutao interjects, flabbergasted as Zhongli and Venti freezes.

In truth, he does have a ring. One he carved himself made of only the most precious of jade and metal. It has rested under his glove for centuries—

Under his glove also hides his draconic arms, golden veins against dark brown, almost scale-like skin. Proof of a entity greater than human.

"Ehe. . . about that," Venti nervously looks away, "I've actually. . . met his wife before!" He covers up, voice laced with enthusiasm.

"Yes, yes, my wife is quite fond of Mondstadt's songs. They've frequently visited the nation before."

"And you don't come along?" Xiangling asks.

"I don't."

The group blinks.

"And what about the ring? I never see you wear a wedding ring." Hutao narrows her eyes.

"That's because I don't wear it." He answers bluntly.

". . . and you never introduced them to us because. . .?" Lumine questions.

"Because . . . I haven't had the time to?"

Hutao rests back on her chair, her eyes glazed in judgment, "No offense mister Zhongli, but you seem like a terrible husband. If you don't get your act straight, I'd say your marriage won't last."

His jaw drops. Venti laughs.

|| ko-fi support / character m.list ||

~ bonus ~

"Darling, am I a terrible husband?"

"No? What makes you think that?"

"No reason. Although I believe we should try dating publicly."

tumblr has been deleting my last paragraphs why

//for some reason tumblr has been deleting my last lines in drafts so i have to type this so my last sentences wont get deleted

"No reason. But perhaps it's about time I show you off to the public more."

ko-fi support | character m.list

#genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli fluff #zhongli fic #genshin fluff #genshin x reader

[jelluf1sh]

౨ৎ — alt. ending!

there were few things gojo loved about life. a handful of simple joys that made his — frankly, tiring — existence as the world’s strongest sorcerer just a pinch better.

one of them was your face. a vague first, and he knows that, but that doesn’t change his answer.

“satoru, look. look how many there are!”

look at you, fascinated with something as simple as jellyfish, your eyes illuminated by the blue luminescence of the bubbling tank, your palms pressed to the glass as if you’d never even heard of a sea creature before. he’d never given a second thought to things like that, but he’d buy you the entire aquarium to keep that smile on your face.

“mhmm,” he murmurs, "real pretty.” not once had he taken his eyes off you. even with six of them, he could never get tired of the way your cheeks stretch and your lips show off your teeth.

the second thing was the way you looked at him.

or maybe, he'd told himself countless times, times late at night when his thoughts raced with you, times when he felt his heart ache and pull against his ribs, begging his lips to spill words that his brain told him to keep in, maybe you look at the whole world like that. he wouldn’t be surprised if you did. the way your eyes gleamed when you stared at something you loved — satoru gojo never thought he could be jealous of an inanimate object until he met you.

the third thing was the fact that you didn’t know how he felt. it was a bittersweet, slightly addicting feeling, like candy with a sour coating and a sugary aftertaste. he’d thought out how to tell you: that was why you were at the aquarium right now, though he’d disguised the very obvious date as another hangout when he’d first texted you.

“i didn’t know there were so many different kinds,” you continued to ramble, your hands still pressed to the tank. then you turned to him with that look. that look of wonder. like a child — and gojo hated children, but when you looked at him like that…

“do you think we’re jellyfish in some other life?” such a stupid, random question, and yet his heart pounds, and he prays you can’t hear it. white lashes flutter under his sunglasses, all six eyes focused on the shape of your lips as they push out sweet words. the strongest sorcerer, prodigy of the gojo clan, reduced to something of an elementary school kid with a life-sized crush.

“…yeah,” he mutters, clearing his throat awkwardly when his voice nearly cracks. “yeah, probably.”

the rest of that day was spent in a comfortable bubble, just you and gojo, wandering around staring at fish. it was simple, and he’d not have it any other way. for a few hours, he could forget about it all, take in your face and feel his tiredness die out like a bad dream.

...satoru gojo swore the gods must have hated him.

he couldn’t even lift the tarp. it was white, practically red now that unimaginable amounts of blood had soaked it through. your eyes were closed now, courtesy of him — because you deserved to rest in peace, and because he couldn’t bear to see the fear preserved in them as you lay there on the table. as a reminder that he wasn't there to save you.

'killed in action'. three fucking words, and his world was turned on its head.

if had he known the aquarium was the last place you two would've been happy together, gojo would've given anything to make that day last just a few minutes longer, so he could spill his guts, pour his heart out, told you that you could be jellyfish in your next lives like he should have.

but in the end, you died without ever knowing he loved you.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #꒰🪼꒱ jelly writes. #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo angst #if this gets 1k likes i'll make an alt ending /srs #user jelluf1sh actually posting real writing ?!!1!?? #drabble #jjk drabbles

[csainzoperator]

yummy: LN4 ☆

summary: y/n is a chef in the mclaren hospitality who is famous for her fabulous recipies. everyone is head over heels for her recipies, and a certain someone is most definitely more than head over heels. but not just for the food.

(lando norris x fem!reader)

read more under the cut!

itsmey/n has posted!

another day at work! for the british gp, their special "sticky toffee pudding" was a success :)

tagged: landonorris and oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 76,123 others.

landonorris it was so yum (she fed us the so called desert forcefully after giving us a 4 course meal)

- oscarpiastri you're such an ungrateful brat. it was great, bestie itsmey/n

- itsmey/n thank you pastry, and lando...i might leave you to starve to death.

lewishamilton i would kill for a pudding rn! you should drop by merc hospitality y/n!

- mclaren look at you trying to steal our goddamn chef....

f1wagsss oh my god you're so pretty

landonorris has posted!

P2 AT HOME RACE BABY!! so proud of the team to be finishing at P2 and P4. also special thanks to y/n for feeding us well :)

tagged: oscar piastri and itsmey/n

liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55, itsmey/n and 872,182,283 others.

landonorizz are we gonn ignore the fact that y/n just made it to a lando post???

lechaaair OH Y/N FEEDS US TOO. SHE SERVES ALL THE DAMN TIME. MOTHER 🙏🏼🙏🏼

itsmey/n its literally my job tho...?

- oscarpiastri some people are bad at their job. he's appreciating you for being good. (lando you fr have no rizz man)

carlaando lando are you trynna make a move GN

- landonowinss BROS PROBABLY REGRETTING RN 💀

(time skip!)

it was the hungarian gp. you were in the mclaren hospitality. the mclaren kitchen was quite big, and your co-workers were extremely sweet. you mainly cooked for the drivers and mechanics, while guiding the others. you were tasting a dish when you feel a presence behind you. you immediately recognise who it is.

"what is it now, lando?" you ask with a knowing smile on your face. he sits down on the counter beside you and watches you as you work. "i was wondering if you would like to, maybe, just maybe, come outside with me and sit down and talk and get some food you know?" he blabbers

"are you asking me out on a date?" you tease him. "well, yeah. only if you want it to be. its okay if you say no" he says with a sad smile on his face. you cup his face with one of your hands and give his cheeks a squeeze. "ofcourse i'll come, dumbass. now shoo, let me work. you're too distracting"

the smug smile he has on his face makes you blush. "so i am distracting huh? what else am i? you can give me details when we go on that date" he winks at you and walks off. you just simply shake your head in amusement.

the date goes well. to be honest, more than well. you both have the most fun ever. lando is everything that you craved. he was the sweetest boy. day by day, meal by meal, both of you started talking more, discovering each other. one fine night, in his apartment in london, where you taught him how to bake his favourite cake, he surprises you by asking you to be his girlfriend. you say yes without hesitation. you knew he wasn't going to play around with your heart.

it was the brazilian gp. lando had placed P2 again! you were the proudest girlfriend to exist, and the happiest. you were just so incredibly proud as he was doing so good this year.

itsmey/n has posted!

brazil you were brilliiianttt <3 liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris and 92,233 others.

f1wags HOLD UP. SOFT LAUNCHING????

oscarpiastri yuck i hate being around the hospitality now.

landonorris 🌟

- carlandodod PLS IM NOT OK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

- leclercvc oh. my. god. guys. i think its lando and y/n.

f1gosssip apparently some people saw looking for his "girlfriend" after the race, and some people even saw him kissing a girl in the mclaren garage! we hope its y/n 😫

y/nfannn MOTHER WHO IS THAT

landonorris has posted!

brazil with bae. thank you team for making the P2 happen! more to come.

p.s i don't believe in soft launches. she let me hard launch after 8 races 🖐🏼

tagged: itsmey/n and mclaren

liked by mclaren, itsmey/n, charles_leclerc and 827,123,12 others.

oscarpiastri GAG

carlandooo MAMA Y PAPA

carlossainz55 finally mate! congrats :)

maxverstappen1 lando isn't a kid anymore

f1wags OFFICIALLY OUR FAV WAG (with lily obv)

itsmey/n i love you, baby! super proud <3

- landonorris i love YOU. so much. so much.

paddockclubb 8 RACES?? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON OMG

the end ♡

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #carlos sainz x reader #f1 instagram au #fanfiction #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula one #instagram au #fanfic

[miley1442111]

i wanna kiss you on the mouth -s.reid

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

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

a/n: i am back from the dead! hello, i was gone for the past few days because school and work is hectic but rest assured i am back :)

summary: both of you are completely unaware of your feelings, but you speak too loudly and your feelings are confessed.

pairing: spencer reid x bau! fem! reader

warnings: none

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

Spencer had only been thinking of you every day for the past 4 months. From the moment he woke up, to the second his head hit the pillow. You were on his mind. 

It’s weird he tried to convince himself. You were his childhood best friend, who’d just moved to Washington. You were a year older but just as intelligent, if not more, and you were conversational and interesting. You had people skills that he could only dream of, and a smile he could only dream of. Which he did. Dreamt of you a lot. Usually you were his girlfriend, or occasionally his wife. Sometimes you were clothed... others he wasn't exactly proud of. But it wasn't him technically, it was his subconscious. Right?

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

“We have a new case,” Penelope grimaced as you rolled your eyes, clearly hungover from the night prior. 

“Bad date?” Derek mused and Spencer’s muscles tensed. 

“I don’t even remember Derek, all I know is that I woke up in someone else’s bed,” you chuckled. 

“Cheating on me?” He mocked. 

“Always,” you smirked, lowering the sunglasses on your eyes to give him a wink, one which made him laugh. 

Spencer’s chest tightened. You were going out. You had casual sex. That was fine, you’re an adult. He shouldn’t be bothered. You two hadn’t spoken in years before you joined the BAU 4 months ago. 

“Pretty boy?” Derek repeated. “Are you alright? You’re not listening.”

“S-sorry! Just… thinking…” he trailed off as the conversation flowed again, ideas and questions filled the room as they continued the briefing. 

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

The jet was not much easier. You were smirking at your phone as the others napped or looked over the case file. 

“Who’s that?” Emily smirked, looking over your shoulder. 

“My maybe-boyfriend,” you smiled back as her face lit up. Spencer’s heart dropped. You barely look in his direction most days. You don’t talk to him. You clearly don’t care about him. Yet here he is, upset over the fact that you might have a boyfriend. “Kidding, my apartment complex’s group chat is going off right now because someone is playing music really loudly. My neighbour is threatening to kill the old woman in 35 with a kitchen knife,” you chuckled as Emily deflated, but read the messages aloud, which made the entire jet laugh. Spencer smiled along, an ease in the weight on his chest. 

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

You were exhausted. You hated this. You hated being so close to Spencer and not feeling able to talk to him. You hated how much you wanted him, needed him. You hated how little attention he paid to you. You didn't like going on first dates, much less sleeping with the asshole that was 'Josh' but he had a similar vibe to Spencer and you'd needed a release.

“Fuck,” you yawned, allowing your eyes to drop for a few seconds before Derek hit the back of your head to wake up. You groaned in response as he laughed. “Fuck you.”

“Come do it yourself,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes. “Anyways, how is it going?”

“I’ve narrowed down the geological profile from Spencer’s initial one-”

“I mean ‘Project Reid’!” He gossiped. “Have you even talked to him yet?”

“Derek,” you grumbled, resting your head against your hands. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, he doesn’t even fucking like me!” 

Derek internally rolled his eyes, irritation bubbling at the both of you. How could two of the most gifted profilers he knew not realise the goo-goo eyes they were sending each other while the other wasn’t looking?

“He likes you plenty,” he sighed. “Ask him out! Talk to him.”

“He does not like me!” You squealed. “Spencer Walter Reid does not like me, in a friendly way or a I-want-to-kiss-you-on-the-mouth way! Stop pushing something that will not happen, despite how much I want it to!”

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

As Spencer approached the conference room, his weary eyes tired as they focused on your figure. You looked beautiful. Spencer always thought you looked beautiful.

“He does not like me!” You squealed. “Spencer Walter Reid does not like me, in a friendly way or a I-want-to-kiss-you-on-the-mouth way! Stop pushing something that will not happen, despite how much I want it to!”

What.

You liked Spencer? You wanted to kiss Spencer. You just amditted to liking him.

“What?” Spencer’s voice from behind you startled you as Derek laughed. “Y-you want that?”

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

“What?” Spencer’s voice from behind you startled you as Derek laughed. “Y-you want that?”

You stared in Derek’s direction, willing for him to leave. Thankfully, he got the message immediately and left swiftly. Leaving you and Spencer alone together. Maybe he should’ve stayed. 

“Umm… yeah. I’ve like you since we were kids, but y’know… life got in the way-”

You were shocked. Spencer Reid, shy Spencer Walter Reid had just cut off your sentence with a kiss. 

What was going on? 

His lips were soft (he used lip balm often, clearly), his hands rested tentatively on you waist. But the kiss. If you could describe kissing Spencer Reid in one word, it would be hungry. He kissed you with as much passion as you would assume someone to give to their partner on their wedding day. He was blanking your mind with this insanely mind-blowing kiss.

“I really like you too,” he smiled. “I an I-wanna-kiss-you-on-the-mouth kinda way. Like I really want to do that again,” he smiled again and you couldn’t help but kiss him. His hands landed on your waist, more comfortable than before as your arms circled his neck. 

Maybe all his overthinking about you was too much. Maybe it was just that simple. 

You liked each other.

In an I-wanna-kiss-you-on-the-mouth kinda way. 

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (CRIMINAL MINDS, marvel, top gun, the bear, the hunger games, challengers, obx+)

#criminal minds #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #bau #spencer reid fanfic #matthewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader

[kishibei]

GUYS MY AGE ...

dilf! toji x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.6k words

summary: toji loves everything about his younger girlfriend, all except the overly friendly relationship she has with his son. to curb his unspoken fear of losing you, you fuck him.

cont: jealousy, possessive language, affectionate toji, missionary, mating press, no resolution, creampie per usual

Toji loved your body; he could never fight that little nagging thought sitting in the back of his mind— the one telling him to touch you.

Your boyfriend's hands were strong, holding a roughness that was tender in its own right— the honest pads of his fingers hardened from years of dirty work.

His fingerprints were practically committed to your memory, each one just a little different from the next. Uneven swirls and ridges winded into each other; tips tacked with scars and deeper indentations from his gunslinging days.

You could feel them all when he walked his hands down your body; even more so when he had you spread open across his thighs, teasing you with just a couple of fingers.

...

Toji appreciated the softer parts of you and paid more attention to them. Your chest, your ass, and the slight pinch of your cheeks constantly reminded him of your youth compared to his— a youth that appeared long gone when you'd met his gaze now; thin black eyes adorned with crow's feet.

His eyes held a vision that was faraway, a distant kind of look he'd always given when he was upset about something. That stoney face he wore never failed to betray his emotions, bearing them on his sleeves despite his best efforts at swallowing them down. There was only one thing that could've been bothering Toji; the same thing that had been eating him up for weeks— his irrational fear of losing you.

Toji really had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping you to himself. You were a one man kind of girl, ignoring the advances of any others who set their sights on you. He often scorned your younger peers, making fun of them without second thought, especially taking joy in tormenting the very man who introduced you to himself: his own son.

...

His first and only, Megumi was beyond fit. Clever, agile, and full of much more life than he was; Megumi was the spitting image of Toji in his younger years. Their striking resemblance was never quite something he saw as a bad thing, at least not until he began to date you.

It was the spoils of his own labor he envied— so much younger and almost perfect for you.

With the kind of drive that came with youth, Megumi easily had a long list of goals he fought fiercely to achieve; ones that he was never really shy to let you know of. He was shameless in this right, not even trying to hide his willingness to impress you in front of his father.

Toji would have been an idiot to not notice his son's infatuation with you. Only a fool would've choosen to ignore the longing glances, the lingering hugs, how the younger man always managed to look away whenever his father kissed you.

At times your boyfriend wondered if you’d prefer someone who wasn't this much your senior, mumbling his insecurities into your chest when he thought you’d already fallen asleep at night.

You had loved him just as much as he did you; your heart swelling with an appreciation for all things Toji. So here in his lap, you humor him; giving him a small reminder of just who you belonged to.

The man had softened up over the years but his strength still remained, thick corded muscle staying firm beneath the thinning skin he had cursed so much.

You hardly blinked; watching intently as he fingered the hem of the shirt he was wearing, peeling it off slowly to expose his muscular chest. His pecs were adorned with light blue branches of veins that shone through his patinaed skin.

Despite how perfect, almost god-like he appeared in this moment, the sight reminded you of his humanity.

You're not sure of what exactly he did before he settled down with you, how many people he’d really killed, or the curses that followed him in his lifetime; but it was a reminder that blood still ran thick in those veins of his, and that they sustained the heart that bled only for you.

“I love you…” he whispered, the sudden confession making you laugh. A giggle bubbled up in your throat before bursting forth into the air, a sound reminiscent of wind chimes escaping your lips. It was an infectious thing, lifting the corners of Toji’s lips to form a gentle arc that stretched from cheek to cheek.

He's impatient when he tugs your jeans off, not even bothering to remove his as he opens his fly just enough to pull his heavy cock out. You know he’s hard despite the fact it barely stands erect, his leaky head bowing under the weight of the rest of him.

You can't help but lick your lips as you stare down at it, eyes already lidded with hazy vision as he grips onto the base, slipping into you without much of a fight.

A shaky breath leaves Toji's lips as he settles in, hissing at how your hole flutters, already clamping down on him.

"Shit..” he sibilates, “so fuckin’ wet for me…”

The words seem to go straight to your pussy as you clench around him, whining a bit from the praise and the mind-numbing feeling of him sinking into you.

He’s so big, he knows he is. Toji’s fully aware of how he fills you to the brim, how deep he reaches, practically prodding at your cervix as he lowers you down on him. He’s teeming with confidence now, pressing down on your tummy to show you just where he’s sure the tip of his length reaches.

“Mm, you feel that, baby?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear your head enough to find the words to respond. Pushing past little whimpers, you stumble over all the syllables you need. Deciding it's best to give up on speaking, you nod profusely, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. Upon revealing your stupefied expression to him, he laughs like he always does; a low rumble that just drips in arrogance as it falls from his lips.

“That’s all me…” he purrs, deft fingers slowly caressing the rest of your body, stopping to squeeze at your soft chest.

His unyielding touch moves down to your legs; strong hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs as he practically folds you in half, pressing your thighs to your chest like nothing.

It's so much, and you can feel him even deeper now, every inch of him plunging into you at a disconcerting pace. You squeal as he pounds into you sloppily, pressing messy kisses to your cheeks, the tops of your ears, down the expanse of your neck, and just about every bit of skin he can get his lips on from this angle.

He loves you, this you know. And even if he hadn't said it earlier, the way he’s fucking you says it all.

“Ooohh, shit Toji!” you sputter, eagerly bouncing on the man’s lap as you try to match his thrusts. Your body shakes with the force of each pump, moaning wantonly as he slowly drags his cock out of you, ramming it back in your dripping hole again and again.

You seem to be growing dumber by the second, incoherent babbles and whines leaving your lips as he fucks the shit out of you. If you could focus on one thing, you would; but your eyes shift everywhere, rolling into the back of your head before meeting with the place where your bodies connected, watching in a trance as Toji’s thick cock disappears into your sopping wet cunt.

Toji grunts, his hips bucking wildly as he clings to you tightly, your back against his broad chest as he uses the force of his pounding to bounce you on even harder than before. He grits through his teeth, eyes shutting hard before they open again, his lips at your ears as a string of expletives leave them.

“Fuckin’ hell, ease up, you’re squeezin’ me…” he strained, jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might just break.

Toji looked like he was reeling, so close to the edge but still holding on, trying to push you over yours before letting himself go.

“Fuck…whose pussy is this?" he panted, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keeping his pace, his hips stuttering as he got closer to finishing now.

You couldn’t answer, mouth preoccupied with moan after the next as you tried anyways, babbling at him like an idiot.

“Mmngh! Y-yours! Yours, right?!"

It was difficult to even answer him straight, just saying anything, you jumbled up the first few words that floated into your hazy mind.

Toji laughed, taking in a shaky breath as he kept going, pulling your legs back even further as he slammed into you with a force that was overwhelming.

"Mine… all fuckin’ mine, you hear?!"

His pace was grueling and you were surely at your limit, crystalline tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he fucked you. Your skin felt like it was on fire, a deep familiar knot in the pit of your stomach just threatening to break.

“I hear! Hear you, Toji!" you yelped, mouth hung open in a perpetual 'O' as you teetered over the edge, right at the cusp of your orgasm.

“I can't! Can’t take any more, please!"

Toji amused you with a crooked grin, using his rough fingers to circle your puffy clit, the extra stimulation giving you just what you needed. You came with a cry, electricity coursing through your veins as you moaned wantonly, gushing around him with a shudder.

The force of your orgasm sent Toji straight into his own, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you, filling you to the brim with thick spurts of cum.

He huffed, chest heaving as he kissed you messily, slotting his tongue into your mouth just before he pulled away to speak.

“You’re so good… but just for me, yea?"

He pressed his lips against yours again and the corners of your mouth turned up in a satisfied smile, loving when he got like this. Toji grew soft, cuddling up to you as he slipped out of your cunt, a runny mix of both his and your fluids dripping onto his lap.

“Only for me…”

©2023 KISHIBEI do not repost, modify, distrib. or translate.

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #dilf toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji jjk #toji x you #toji jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji smut #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji #dilf toji

[mypoisonedvine]

Hi hi! I’m sure you’re being flooded, but I’d love a little something about younger (20 or older though!) reader babysitting for dad! Steve. Smutty if you feel so inclined. Can be single or not, dealer’s choice!

I went wayyyy overboard with this, oops, but it was so sexy omfg

word count: 2k

warnings: huge age gap (45+ vs 20), unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral m receiving, sliiiightly mean dom steve, size kink, stomach bulge kink, daddy kink

You'd been crushing on Mr. Harrington for years, actually... even before the divorce.

It wasn't just that he was good-looking, although that was obviously part of it. It was the way he acted with you, it made you feel all girly and little and dumb; it was the way he played with his kids which made your uterus sob in envy; it was the way he wore reflective shades to the pool and you had to wonder if he was looking at you and seeing how much you'd grown.

For the longest, much to your dismay, nothing happened between you. You'd been trying to make conversation after he came back each night to finish your babysitting shift, but it never really worked. Nothing worked, actually, not even the skimpy outfits or the strategic bending over or the casual touches to his arm or knee.

Nothing worked until last night.

It started mostly normal, except that he was obviously in a worse mood than usual. You asked how his date went; he dodged the question. You pressed again, and he shook his head as he sat down on the couch, running his hands over his hair.

"It's starting to feel futile," he explained, speaking quietly knowing his kids were asleep down the hall.

"What is?"

"All of it," he breathed. "Dating, work, all of it."

You sat next to him, pulling your knees up on the sofa and tilting your head sympathetically. "Tell me about it," you offered.

Amazingly, he did. He told you about how each woman he went out with was worse than the last, and he didn't trust any of them with his kids. That made your heart skip; I'm his babysitter, he trusts me with his kids.

He told you about how rough the divorce had been, and then the custody arrangements. Apparently he was still dealing with that even though Mrs. Harrington had moved out probably almost two years ago now.

He told you about how hard his job was, how the hours killed him, how he could barely find time to spend with his family because he was putting out everyone else's fires at the office.

"That all sounds really stressful, Mr. Harrington," you cooed when he finished his rant. "You need to relax."

He chuckled a little. "Easier said than done."

"Maybe I can help you."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but his eyes went wide as he watched you get on your knees on the ground.

"Let me help you relax, Mr. Harrington," you pleaded, running your hands over his legs gently as they stayed slightly spread on the couch.

"Oh, uh— I— sweetie, we can't—"

You reached up to his belt, and even if his words were hesitant, he lifted his hips slightly to make it easier for you to unbuckle it.

"Are you— fuck— are you really—? Baby..."

It made your hips wiggle against the carpet hearing him talk like that. You got his fly open next, and started to rub his cock through his boxers underneath. His eyes followed your every move in disbelief.

He was just starting to get hard when you took him out, but he was already so big... your mouth was watering. You couldn't wait any longer: you looked up at him for just a second before you leaned forward and took his fat head into your mouth.

Groaning and tilting his head back, his hands found purchase in your hair instantly.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, "you're... you're so bad, sweetie, you know you shouldn't... oh my god."

You bobbed your head eagerly, feeling him swell and harden against your tongue until your mouth was stretched to its limit by his size. You hummed around him joyfully, revelling in the softly salty taste on your tongue. Stroking with your hand what your lips couldn't reach, you took a break after a few minutes to look up at him for approval.

"Where'd a sweet girl like you learn how to do that?" he asked with a long sigh. "Fuck, keep sucking... look up at me, baby."

You did as you were told, and he adjusted his hips slightly so it was easier for you to keep eye contact with him while you suckled at his throbbing head.

"Good," he praised, stroking your cheek as you worked. "Such pretty eyes... and that pretty mouth too, god. Take it deeper, sweetie, you can choke a little."

His hand helped push you down until his dick hit the end of your throat, and you gagged helplessly. He moaned loudest at that, eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Too big for your little mouth, huh?" he noticed. "Poor baby. Choke on me again."

You did as he said and noticed his hips rocking up to push his cock even deeper and gag you even harder. Tears welled in your eyes but he purred in satisfaction.

"Mm, good job," he praised, "you're so good for me, sweetie."

Needing a break for your throat, you pulled back and stroked him slowly as you made conversation. "How long has it been since somebody sucked your cock, Mr. Harrington?" you asked sweetly.

"Fuck, I don't even know— years? Before Allie was born, probably. She didn't... she never did it, really," he mumbled, and you tried not to bite your lip. Of course his bitch ex-wife never did this to him, he was probably so starved for affection for ages.

"That's such a shame," you pouted, "it tastes so good. I'd never be able to stop tasting you, Mr. Harrington."

"Then don't stop," he encouraged, pushing your head down again. You got back into the pattern, only taking breaks to lathe the shaft in long licks from base to tip; he seemed to like those a lot.

Sometimes you felt his cock throb and you hoped it meant he would come soon: you couldn't wait. You went on for a while longer, though, and started to get desperate for it. When his heavy breathing made you pretty sure he was close, you broke the pattern one more time to encourage him. "I want you to come in my mouth," you informed him. "M'gonna swallow it, sir, I promise."

"No, fuck no," he interrupted, surprising you. "No, I want that pussy. Fuck, I need your pussy, get up here."

You climbed onto the couch eagerly, straddling his lap as he started to pull your skirt up right away. He snapped your panties off like it was nothing, instantly groaning at the sight of your mound beneath; you felt so exposed in the best way, you worried you were going to drip right down onto his khakis with him looking at you like that.

"Fuck, sweetie, you're so gorgeous," he sighed, "such a gorgeous little pussy. C'mere..."

He held your thighs, petting them as he guided you down to his cock. He stopped looking at it once he was just barely pushing inside, instead starting to watch your face as you sank down onto his length with a moan. "Fuck!" you whimpered. "Fuck, too big, you're too—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, "gotta be quiet, baby, the kids are asleep."

Your gut burned from how stupidly hot that was, and you bit your lip to try to keep it down. His cock reached the end of you and you jolted, trying to move back up, but he shook his head and kept guiding you down.

"No, sweetie, you need to take all of me," he scolded gently. "You're gonna take all of me, fuck, so good..."

Finally, somehow, he managed to get it all inside until your thighs were flush with his. You were shaking, it was so deep you were shaking; there was a slight bulge in your tummy where his cock filled you. "Mr. Harrington, it's too deep..."

He growled, actually growled, and held your hips tightly. "No, baby, it's just the right amount. You're taking me so good... all of my cock is in you, sweetie, you're doing so fucking good. Now just ride me."

Shaking and whimpering, you started to rock your hips on top of his; he sighed and watched you, looking wrecked in the best way.

"Yeah, fuck," he encouraged, "fuck, you know how long it's been since I had pussy like this? Tight, wet, young pussy like yours? You feel so fucking good..."

"You too," you moaned, "you feel so good, Mr. Harrington..."

He smirked a bit. "I think we're on a first name basis by now... but I want you to keep calling me that anyways. It's so fucking cute."

Pulling you a little closer, he whispered right by your ear.

"Maybe," he suggested, "you could even call me daddy."

"Oh, daddy," you pounced on the opportunity immediately, and he groaned in satisfaction. "Daddy, it feels really really good..."

"Yeah? Well then why don't you cream for me, huh? Let that cute little pussy come on my cock—"

You didn't even let him finish. You'd been worked up since he got here and it hit you all at once. He watched you proudly, thin laughter ringing in your ears.

"God, you're so sensitive," he groaned, "it's gonna take me a while, baby, I'm not as young as you... takes me all night sometimes."

You shuddered; "I don't have anywhere to be..."

"Yeah you do," he corrected, starting to guide your hips as your motions faltered from the exhaustion of coming. "Your parents are probably worried about you, sweetie. They don't know what a slut you are, do they?"

You shook your head. "N-no, daddy..."

"Fuck," he breathed, "you're so cute... show daddy your tits, sweetie— lift up your shirt for me and show me your tits."

He was more than capable of doing it himself, but he preferred to watch you roll up your tank top and let him see your tits, hardened from being so turned on by all this. You'd stopped wearing a bra around him months ago, and it was all worth it as he reached up and palmed one of your breasts.

"Mm," he hummed, "you've got great tits, baby— you show them off too much, though."

He slid his hand across your chest to touch the other gently. "I only did that for you, Mr. Harrington," you promised, "I just wanted your attention... wanted you to see how grown up I am..."

He smirked. "You got my fucking attention, sweetie."

With renewed energy, you started to take control again, riding him in earnest. "Really?" you confirmed hopefully. "Did you think about me, daddy? Did you ever jerk off and think about my tits?"

He delayed his answer by hissing a little, looking down at where your pussy slid up and down on him before tilting his head back again. "Yes," he admitted, "yeah, I thought about you. I would've done it a lot more if I knew you wanted me to."

"Of course I wanted you to," you giggled, "I have such a big crush on you, Mr. Harrington, I have for so long..."

"A crush, huh?" he laughed.

You nodded eagerly, whining when he held onto you tighter and started to thrust up into you off the couch.

"You know I'm more than twice your age, right?" he reminded you with a purr, and you nodded. "You know I'm older than your dad, right?"

Your head was spinning, but you nodded again.

"And you know I could get you pregnant... right?"

You moaned, head falling back, and he laughed.

"I knew it," he gloated, "I knew that was what you wanted— knew you needed some babies fucked into you, sweet girl. Daddy's gonna knock you up, s'that what you want?"

"Yes, yes!" you sobbed.

You weren't moving at all now, you were limp and useless as he thrust up into you hard and fast, making you cry and moan so loudly he had to cover your mouth. "I'll come, fuck, nice and deep," he promised, "and give you a baby, yeah? Get you so full and pregnant, just how you want it."

You were begging him for it, but it was all muffled into nonsense under his hand as he fucked up into you rough and fast. It ended with a groan, his head falling back and his body going limp under you as he came. You collapsed onto him, both of you sinking into the couch as you caught your breath.

His hands rested on your thighs still, sometimes petting them or moving up to your waist; you shyly hid your face in the crook of his neck, hardly believing that this really happened— and terrified you would wake up and realize it was all a wonderful dream. "Think I'm gonna need you to babysit for me again tomorrow night," he broke the silence suddenly. "I'll pay double for the short notice."

"I'll do it for free," you replied.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #dad!steve harrington

[scudevils]

champagne coast — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, semi-public, swearing, alcohol, sexual innuendo, not proofread and rushed ending!!

synopsis: lando finally won his race, there’s only one way to celebrate [2.4k]

a/n: the ending was so so bad these exams have been kicking my ass :/

"stop staring and pick a shirt." you looked back at him in the mirror, fixing the smudged lipstick lando had been the cause of.

"can't help myself when you look that pretty."

lando almost looked proud of himself at his reply, yet you could only give a drawn out groan in response. "stop being cheesy and get dressed. we're leaving in 10 minutes." he rolled his eyes before getting up, ultimately choosing the white linen shirt you had left out. "we're celebrating you, remember."

the cuffs were rolled up to just below his elbow, lando had a gift of somehow making ever outfit make him even more attractive to you, and tonight was no different. you just wanted to throw him back against the bed, fuck your friends waiting for the pair of you to meet them, and have him all to yourself for the night.

unfortunately, that wasn't the case and it was now you being called out for your shameless staring, a boyish smile on his face as his curls framed his forehead. you ignore him though, giving yourself another once over in the mirror, letting your eyes fall to landos just barely taller frame behind you, his hands finding your hips and lips just grazing over your neck.

he pressed a kiss against your pulse point, taking in the smell of the perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, the same one he'd been buying you for years. so much so that he now associated anything even similar in scent to you, driving him crazy from the first time you wore it.

"no, no, we need to go." you almost gave into his advances, ready to ditch the plans made, before finally you came to your senses, knocking him back off of you and reaching for your heels. "you better behave tonight."

it was an empty threat, and you both knew it.

the club was busy, probably the most packed you had ever seen it, buzzing with young drunks ready to celebrate the race result with their friends and a one night stand they'd regret in the morning, drivers joined them, alone or with their partners to congratulate the young brit on his first victory. it was nice though, coloured lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. the smell of alcohol flowed through the air like it did in the veins of the people there. the heat almost bound you together, sweat coating bodies as they danced against one another, drinks in hand to refresh their never ending thirst.

lando is just behind you, a hand on the small of your back when he spots a few of the other drivers and their girlfriends, directing you over to them and you move, heels already killing your feet and you knew it would be a sore night.

"thought you'd never show up." max sniggers, the boys giving lando a knowing look that had your face going hot, the girls not sparing you one either, kelly laughing at the way you blushed at the implication. they all knew how you and him were, in the honeymoon phase still despite the years of dating.

"blame him, took him about an hour to choose a shirt." you're quick to pass the blame, sitting next to one of the girls you're closest with as she makes space for you and the brit. you eye up her drink, the blue shade piquing your interest. "what are we drinking then?"

she lets out a giggle, passing you a straw and letting you have a taste of it. before you can ask lando to get you one when he goes to the bar, max and carlos are sat back at the table, a tray of shots each. half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear.

everyone plucks shots from the table, you play it safe though. taking a clear one first, you cheers it to the table, grimacing at the burn when you throw your head back, the liquid flowing down your throat, you make a face at the strength, recognising it as vodka.

your eyes follow lando as he lifts the golden coloured shot from the tray. he brings the small glass to his lips, and you can still feel the way they felt on your neck just half an hour ago, the jut of his jaw, and how the stubble would cause an itching sensation against your cheek, leaving pink marks in its wake as he kissed you. it's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it's water. "patrón." he groans.

"you two have lots of catching up to do." they're quick to remind you, some of them even three, four, drinks deep meanwhile you and lando had had one shot each, although he'd been drinking champagne since his win earlier in the day, tipsier than you already.

you could feel the music thumping through your body, the humid air already getting to you, standing in the line for the bar, with lando just behind you. his hands rarely left your hips, sometimes he dared to move them just lower to the hem of your dress when you swatted them away, reminding him to behave.

you weren't afraid of lando touching you in public, everything he was doing his friends had seen before, but tonight he was feeling more dangerous, maybe it was the adrenaline of his first win, or maybe he was just really fucking needy for you.

his one-day stubble scratches your soft cheeks, when he presses a kiss there, almost an invasion for more. although your annoyed at him for smudging even more of your makeup, it doesn't last long when he places a drink in your hand. no matter how much time you spend on yourself, he always ruins you. your makeup, your clothes, covering your whole body in hickies and marks. simply because you're his, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't do the same to him.

he tests his luck, the hand at the bottom of your dress finding it way under and squeezing the soft skin of your arse, and you gasp before turning go face him. "behave." you warn him, but ultimately it goes in one ear and out the other, his eyes zeroing in on your lips as he innocently pecks them.

"thought we were celebrating me?" he parrots your earlier words, lips so close to yours you can feel them moving against yours, you can taste the fruity cocktail he's been drinking. "you gonna let me celebrate with you?"

you're nodding your head before you even realise. drink being abandoned on the table before you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, kelly and alex offering to come with you before you shut then down, passing a worried glance in lando's direction but he only encouraged with a smirk.

you were gone more than five minutes before they got worried about you. "the lines probably long, i'll go check on her, keep her compancy." lando offered, the group either too drunk to care or not wanting to say anything out loud.

that was how you found yourself now, lando's lips on your necks, red marks turning purple in the aftermath, your small gasps and whines echoing off of the tiled bathroom walls. you couldn't take your hands off of him, trailing up his toned stomach, the way his muscles tensed under your touch had you wanting him even more.

you weren't sure wether it was the high of his win that was making him look even more attractive than usual or the heat was getting to you but he just looked so fuckable in that moment you didn't want to let him go.

threading your fingers through his hair you felt his groan against your neck, he'd been freeing his curls more and more each day not doing well to help your obsession with pulling on the strands. "lando-" a breathy moan falling from your lips in the sound of his name.

you'd managed to finally get him away from your neck, hands cradling his face as your thumb swiped across his cheek, slotting your lips over his as your back pressed against the sink counter. lando's hands wandered your body as if for the first time, leaving no part of your exposed skin untouched, pawing at the clothes he'd commented on earlier for being too small and now he thought you had too much on. "you gonna let me reward you for being my lucky charm, hm?" his hand ran down the side of your cheek, taunting you, a mocking tone to his words as his eyes stared into yours.

"please, lando." your voice was just above a whisper, shame seeping into your words, the realisation that your friends, his colleagues, were just outside and could interrupt at any moment, hear you at any moment, they could get worried about how long you were taking and try and come find you.

"you're gonna need to be real quiet, okay?" the pads of his fingers rubbed circles against your hips bone, lifting you up onto the counter, your back pressed against the cool glass, heading falling back and exposing your neck to him again, goosebumps raising on your legs as the bottom of your dressed had already bunched up below your waist.

the belt from his trousers was quickly undone, pulling them down enough to free himself, tip already leaking pre-cum, begging for you to touch him. your hand wrapped around him, squeezing lightly as you worked your wrist feeling him harden underneath you.

you whined as he pulled your hand away, pressing a small kiss to the palm. "fuckin' love your hand, but i wanna come inside of you." he groaned, watching the way you dropped your feet back onto the bar floor, turning your body so your eyes met his on the mirror and teasingly arched your back against his front.

there was something about the way he towered over you when you were bent down that turned you on like nothing else, knowing he could manhandle your body like a rag doll if he wanted to, fuck you like you wanted him to. your hand dipped between your own thighs, rubbing circles over your clit as your eyes closed, feeling him watching you.

his hands found home on your waist, tight enough that your eyes opened, staring back at him, your dressed hiked up your hips and panties pulled down enough to give him access to you. but instead he watched the way your hand moved, focused on the small moans that fell from your lips, arm threatening to buckle under your weight but you knew if you took your eyes off of him you'd be in trouble.

you managed to focus on him for the first time, seeing just the underside of his neck as his head lolled back. the sound of you moaning from your own doing had him groaning, the sight in front of him something he'd never forget.

"don't stop, fucking don't." he warned, seeing the way your hands grew weaker, movements becoming tired as you grew closer to your high, legs beginning to shake against his own. "so good for me-" your eyes screwed shut, head falling back against his chest as he let you come undone against him, arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up.

lando intertwined his fingers with your own, bringing your fingers up to his mouth as placed kisses to them, taking them in his mouth, cleaning them off. "looked so hot on the podium, wanted to fuck you right there." you spoke against his neck, pulling away slightly and looking up at him for his reply.

"yeah?" you nodded. "gonna let me fuck you now?" nodding again, lando's hands were back on your hips, pushing you down against the cold counter.

his hands ran down your body, a harsh hit against your ass caused you to jolt towards the sink, a whine falling from your lips at the stinging sensation. you felt him against you, moaning as he slid in, stretching you out as if for the first time, feeling every inch of him inside of you.

"lando-" moaning his names he made a makeshift ponytail in your hair, moving against you at a quick pace, the sound of skin against slim bouncing off of the walls in sync with both yours and his groans.

you never felt his pace falter even when his movements became erratic, when he could see your thighs shaking, arms threatening to give out when you held yourself up. "look at you baby, looking so pretty when you let me fuck you."

"only for you lando." his thrusts seemed almost deeper now, a new feeling of pleasure rippling through your body, the warmth coming from him in contrast to the coolness of the counter against your skin. "gonna come, please."

he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, his chest pressed against your back, biting down onto the skin there to muffle the moans he let out, although failing as they mixed with your own, the sounds begging him to let you have your release. "please, lando, please let me come-"

you felt his hips stutter against you, movements faltering and becoming sloppy, and he couldn't hold back when he twitched again inside of you, the feeling triggering your second orgasm of the night as you moaned into your fist, trying to muffle the sounds of your desperate whines, clenching around lando as he reached his own release, feeling him deep inside of you, your vision blurry but you could feel his hands on the backs of your thighs, massaging the muscles that would sure to be sore in the morning. "fuck, i love you." he murmured against your skin.

"i love you too," your eyes met his in the mirror, the mess of his and your hair had you blushing, his pupils blown out, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. "my race winner."

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #f1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #scudevils

[cosmicbucky]

verity

summary: an inadvertently broken heart and a girls' night in can only lead to one thing: you drunkenly confronting the very man who broke your heart in the first place - aka your best friend, bucky barnes pairing: bucky barnes x female reader word count: 3253

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk with friends, pet names, sad bucky, sad reader, drunk confessions, swearing, misunderstandings, reader gets sick (vomit), fluff, kinda friends to lovers (??)

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The music flowed through the living room around you, quiet enough to not overpower the conversations you were having with your friends, but loud enough for you to know what you were swaying in your seat to. 

It had been a while since you had a girls' night, though you were all but forced into this one; it was made clear by Nat that your presence was not an option - you were the only reason you were all gathered here now, each of you at least a bottle or two in. 

At first you resisted. You wanted nothing more than to wallow alone in your room, watching trash TV and crying over cheesy scenes. It wasn't that you didn't love the company you had right now, you just wanted other company. You wanted the same company you had every day for the last year. The same company that became your only solace ever since it took a literal bullet for you without thought just to keep you safe. The same company that read your favourite books so you had someone to talk to about them. The same company that sat with you and watched all your favourite shows so they could get a better glimpse of who you are and what you like. The same company you thought you were finally getting somewhere with. 

It felt like you got hit by a truck when the words "You know Bucky's been dating?" nonchalantly left Sam's mouth one day while you were having lunch. You didn't want to know more about it. You didn't want to know who they were, how the two met, or what they did for a living. You didn't want to be told anything other than the fact Sam was joking, that what you thought you had with Bucky really was real and not just in your head. Sam never said anything close to that, though. 

Bucky never brought up the dates to you, and you almost felt that was even worse than if he did. Why did he not want to tell you? Were you really not as close as you thought? Did he not trust you enough to tell you such a thing? Your thoughts continuously spiraled over the next few days, stealing away your self confidence and the air from your lungs. Nothing was the same anymore. You thought you knew where you stood with Bucky. You thought it all meant something. All the stares from across the room, the lingering touches, the 'just because' gifts, the movie nights, the sleepovers, all of it. But it meant nothing. You read it all wrong. And now it's been two weeks since you were able to look at him long enough for you to even say hi to him, let alone have a conversation with him. 

Bucky noticed the shift the moment it happened; when you slid ever so slightly away from him when he tried to hold you in his arms like he did every movie night. He noticed when the smile stopped reaching your eyes. He noticed when you stopped showing up for dinners with the gang every night. He noticed when you couldn't hold his gaze anymore. He noticed that you two just weren't the same, and it killed him. It killed him because he didn't know what he did, and he tried everything under the sun to get things back to the way they were, but nothing worked.

Everyone noticed when his demeanor changed. His fuse was shorter, his temper was stronger. He spent even more time in the training room, pummeling and destroying bag after bag until his knuckles were bloody; letting himself heal overnight only to do it all again the next day. He shamelessly threw a dining chair into a wall when Tony made a joke about how you must have smartened up and finally got sick of him, and his expression was so murderous that a Code White was called, effectively resulting in him being locked down in his room for a full 24 hours - he ended up staying in there even after the lockdown was over. The only reason he started leaving the confines of his room was to spend time with his best girl, and he didn't have that anymore.

All your friends were sick of it. They didn't know what was going on, and you both refused to talk about it. No one could even mention the others' name to either of you anymore without fear of having the nearest object thrown at their head. 

So plans were formed, and you now sat on the couch with a glass in your hand as you mindlessly swayed to whatever song was currently playing. 

"Who is in charge of this music? It is awful!" Yelena stated from her spot on the floor, taking yet another shot. 

"I picked it," you crooned, stilling your movements as you looked at her. "It's completely free of attachments to you-know-who."

A cohesive muttering came from all the women before you, and Yelena cleared her throat. "It is not bad," she corrected with a grimace, taking pity on you. 

"Are you drunk enough to tell us what happened now?" Nat asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Downing the rest of your glass, you looked at her with a thoughtful expression for a minute. "No," you concluded, filling your glass again. 

"Okay, this is torture. Time for a drinking game!" Wanda exclaimed, standing from her chair. "Everyone take a mustache and tape it to the TV. We're putting on a trash show and drinking whenever it lines up with someone."

You beamed with excitement, ready to both watch crappy TV and get drunk - gods know you needed at least one night to forget about Bucky. 

And forget you did. You can't remember the last time you were this far gone, the last time you had this much fun. The drinking game was very successful; it even got Yelena and Nat a little tipsy, which was not easy to do. No one said anything when you went a little harder than everyone else, when you drank a little more, taking shots when you weren't technically supposed to. You haven't smiled like this in weeks, and they weren't going to take that away from you. 

Your giggles carried on down the hallway, the echoes of your voice, of your laughter, music to everyone's ears - having gone so long now without hearing it. It captured someone's attention, socked feet being dragged towards the sound before even knowing what was happening, a seat being taken in the kitchen just to be that much closer, eyes gazing across at you, a face with such an amorous expression it would have made anyone who saw it sick. 

You audibly gasped as you caught sight of him, your eyes meeting his for the briefest of seconds before he looked away, contemplating whether he should go back to his room or not. 

"Oh, my god. Why is he here?" you asked the girls, unable to take your eyes off of him. 

"Why is who here?" Kate asked, following your gaze. "Him? What are you talking about he-"

"We don't know!" Nat chimed in, sending a warning glare to Kate that you were too distracted to see. 

"Why don't you go talk to him and find out?" Wanda suggested, quickly catching on to Nat's motive. 

You shook your head vehemently, making yourself momentarily dizzy. "Noooo. He broke my heart, Wan. What would I even say?" you replied with a whine, sinking into the couch as you lifted the glass to your lips again. 

She shared a look with Nat, two looks that said 'fuck, maybe we shouldn't let her do this' and 'what the hell does she mean by that?' You couldn't decipher either, though. The blood was rushing in your ears as you stared across the room again, torn between going to confront this beautiful, asshole of a man and staying in the comfort of the living room.

Before you could really think it through - and in your state, it's not like you really could anyway - you abruptly stood from the couch, taking a few seconds to steady yourself on your feet. 

"Fuck him," you muttered to yourself, vaguely aware of the girls trying to get your attention as you marched across the floor. 

His head snapped up when he heard you coming, his enhanced hearing paired with the fact you weren't exactly in a graceful state didn't give you the advantage of sneaking up on him. 

"Hi, doll," he said once you approached him.

Had you been in a more collected frame of mind, you probably would have noticed how quiet his voice was, how strained it was from the fact he was holding his breath in the hopes the two of you would go back to normal. You would have noticed the pain, the hurt, the confusion, and the hope dancing around in his eyes; making the blue that used to be your favourite colour now dull and stormy. 

You didn't notice, though. All you noticed was the burning pain in your heart that was supposed to be gone after all those drinks, but just one look at the man before you brought everything back. 

"You can't call me that anymore," you declared, shaking your head so much it made the room spin even more. "You gotta keep that name reserved now," you added bitterly. 

"Reserved?" Bucky asked, his brow knit together in confusion. "For who?" 

You scoffed, walking forward to close the distance that was left between you and the table he sat at. A few steps in and you lost your footing, but before you could even stumble Bucky was already out of his seat. His hands were on your arms in an instant, the feeling of hot and cold both burning your skin in a familiar way. The tenderness of his touch and the yearning you felt for it after all this time was almost too much to bear; your mind was spinning. Spinning from alcohol. Spinning from heartache. Spinning from anger. Spinning, spinning, spinning. 

"Let go of me!" you exclaimed angrily, shrugging yourself out of his grasp. "I don't think your little lover would want you touchin' me." 

Bucky could only stand there, blinking in surprise with his hands still outstretched. "My what?" he asked, his hands slowly falling back to his sides. "My lover?" he repeated. 

"Yeah, your lover - or… whatever the hell you want to call them. Sam told me, because you didn't," you told him indignantly. 

"I- what? Sam told you? Sam told you what?" he asked, more confused than ever. 

"That you're dating someone!" you yelled, the anguish clear in your voice. 

Bucky sighed and ran his hands over his face in exasperation before resting them on his hips, his lips pursed as he collected his thoughts. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he finally asked, trying to put the pieces together in his head. 

"Didn't expect me to know, did you?" you spat furiously. 

"I don't- sweetheart, what the hell is going on?" he asked softly, trying his best to remain patient. You were finally talking to him again, and it's definitely not the way he imagined but he'd be damned if he was going to let you slip through his fingers again. 

"No!" you said forcefully. "I'm not your sweetheart. She is. Whoever she is." 

"There is no ‘she’," Bucky told you calmly, trying his hardest to make sense of what was going on. 

"Okay, then he is!" you replied in defeat, finally throwing yourself down on the chair beside you. 

"What? No, that's not-" he tried to answer you, but you quickly cut him off. 

"Why didn’t you want to tell me?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking. 

“Because… I’m not dating anyone,” he replied slowly, more of a question than a statement. 

“Just stop lying!” you yelled, hands slamming onto the table. “Please, I can’t take you lying to me anymore, okay? You’ve been lying to me all year,” you added in desperation, your eyes starting to glisten with tears. 

“All year?” he asked, his voice quiet and shaky as he slid into the seat across from you. 

You could only nod your head, bottom lip trembling as the first tears started to fall down your cheeks. Bucky started burning from the inside out, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and kiss the tears away- but he couldn’t. So he stayed where he was, swallowing thickly as he willed himself not to start crying with you. 

“I never lied to you, you know that,” he said carefully. 

“You did, because this whole time you-... I really thought-... you made me think-” you couldn’t get the words out, falling silent as you tried to collect yourself.

Bucky instinctively reached his hands across the table to you before he caught himself, pulling them back and setting them on his lap. "What did I make you think?" 

"That you trusted me. That we meant something to each other," you explained softly, swallowing back more tears. "I thought you loved me back," you added, your voice so quiet it would have been inaudible to anyone other than him. 

"What?" Bucky breathed out, the air being stolen from his lungs with those last six words that spilled from your trembling lips. 

"I know you heard me." 

"Okay- now is not the time for this conversation," he sighed, running his hands over his face. 

You sat in silence for a moment, looking at him with such an recognizable expression Bucky felt like he was looking at a completely different person. "Figures," you muttered before shoving your chair back and standing up. 

"What are you doing?" Bucky asked, half out of his seat as he watched to make sure you were steady on your feet. 

Without another word to him, you turned and carefully started to make your way out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom. 

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Bucky called from behind you, quickly on your heels. "No, you're not allowed to leave me like this again." 

"You left me first!" you yelled back, placing your hand on the wall to keep your balance as you walked a little faster. 

"I never left you once!" he argued, still hot on your trail. 

You scoffed, shoving open the door to your room and trying to slam it in his face; the attempt was unsurprisingly futile. "Stop following me, you said you don't want to talk."

"No, I said this isn't the time for this conversation," he huffed, shoving his way into your room and closing the door behind him. 

"Why? You don't want to admit what you did?" you asked, stumbling your way to sit on the bed. 

"For fucks sake, I didn't even do anything!" he defended with exasperation, leaning against the door.

"Yes you did," you argued, attempting to take off your sweater. 

"I'm telling you, I didn't," he told you, trying his best to not let out a laugh as he watched you struggle to lift the sweater over your head. 

"You did!" you yelled, voice muffled by the fabric. "You lied, and you kept secrets, and you - god, can you fucking help me?!" you asked with a huff, interrupting your own rant. 

Bucky suppressed his laugh as he stepped forward, kneeling down in front of you. "Alright, alright. Stop fuckin' squirmin'," he muttered. 

You stilled, muttering a few choice words under your breath that did not go unnoticed by him. Grasping the hem of your sweater, he carefully lifted it up and over your head to reveal your disheveled, pouting face. 

"There's my girl," he whispered softly, delicately brushing back your mussed hair. 

"I'm not-" you started to argue, before he quickly cut you off.

"Yes. You. Are," he said firmly, enunciating each word.

"But Sam-"

"Is an idiot," he insisted, cutting you off again. "He tried to set me up with someone but I never went. When he asked me about it, I told him we were gonna go out again so he'd stop fucking bugging me about it. I lied, sweetheart. I was never dating anyone." 

"You- there was no one?" you asked quietly. 

"There was no one else," he told you, his thumbs brushing away stray tears you didn't even know were falling. 

Before you could ask him what that meant, your room started spinning once more and your mouth felt like cotton and your stomach felt like it was making its way up your throat.

"I don't feel so good," you mumbled, staring at him with wide eyes for a moment before rushing to your bathroom, barely making it on time. 

Bucky was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding back your hair as you let loose the contents of your girls' night, his hand ghosting up and down your back. He sat patiently with you, muttering comforting words between each second of you getting sick as you gasped for air and sobbed, occasionally wiping your face with tissues. 

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes, his hands never leaving you. 

You could only nod in response, shifting away from him to rest against the bathtub as you closed your eyes. 

Bucky immediately fell into his old habits, wasting no time in taking care of you. The only thing that destroyed him more than not having you in his life lately was watching you practically wither away, unable to do a damn thing about it. 

"Drink, sweet girl," he told you, caressing your cheek in an attempt to rouse you before handing you the water you had no idea he even retrieved. 

You blinked up at him, taking a moment to process what was going on before taking the glass from him. As you drank he gathered up a washcloth, running it under cold water before kneeling before you once more. 

"C'mere," he whispered, taking your chin in one hand to hold you in place as he gently wiped your face. Your eyes closed once more, sighing in content as the cold water eased the burning under your skin. 

"I love you," you found yourself telling him. Your voice was a delicate whisper, but the words were so heavy you felt like they echoed off the tiles surrounding you anyway. 

Bucky stayed quiet, but you refused to open your eyes and look at him. Looking at him would make this moment real, so as long as you kept your eyes closed, you could pretend none of this ever happened. 

"Let's get you to bed," he finally said, causing your world to implode once more. 

Completely defeated, you allowed him to lift you from the floor. 

Not having the energy to fight him anymore, you cooperated as he helped you into some sleep clothes. 

Wanting to just hide away forever, you let him tuck you under the covers, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he slid in beside you, wanting to be there in case you got sick again.

The room was engulfed by silence for so long it almost felt like it was suffocating you, but just before your whirling mind finally succumbed to the allure of sleep you heard Bucky's gentle voice speaking out to you.

"Sleep this off, angel. Because when I explain to you how in love with you I am, I want to make damn sure you can remember what I say."

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[astraystayyh]

The wedding and the morning after

inspired by that cute twitter trend :,) very soft bang chan fluff. use of wife and husband a lot but they just got married so they get a pass!!!!!

if you guys enjoy reading please leave a reblog or comment it means the world to me <3

Your wedding ceremony with Chan was a simple one. You weren't one for extravagance and neither was he. So you opted for an intimate setting, only inviting your favorite humans in there.

You felt as if everything was more vibrant that day- the colors of the flowers you both hand-picked, the smell of food that wafted through the air, the twinkling lights you had installed because they reminded Chan of your eyes (or so he insisted).

But you knew it had a lot less to do with the decorations, and more with the man you married. Being with Chan was like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

You felt grateful that you were alive because you got to experience being loved by him.

There was music, lots of laughter, and admittedly, tears. You can blame Chan's vows for it. His words rang in your ears throughout the night- how he vowed to love you until his last breath, and long after that.

But he didn't need to make those promises, they were just honorifics. Chan has shown you time and time again that he was in love with you.

You knew by the way he tore down your walls, gently, at your pace, your hand tightly clutched in his. How he deeply cared for you, on your happy days but especially on your saddest.

You and Chan weren't perfect, but you complemented each other like two halves of one heart. You found in him a home, a safe place for you to exist and be loved.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers in your ears while the both of you sway on the dance floor. You could faintly hear the cheers of the boys who were watching you, but you paid no mind to them. All you could focus on was Chan's warm hands on your waist, holding you close.

"So are you", you beam at him. When you looked at Chan, you didn't simply see his beautiful features- his brown eyes, straight nose and plump lips. You saw a warm coffee shop, where you seek refuge on a cold day; you saw a sunset slowly casting down into the sea; you saw a field of tulips stretching into the horizon.

Looking at Chan reminded you of beautiful sceneries, of the smell of earth after the rain, of a hearty soup that fills your insides when you are ill. You saw in him every beautiful feeling you've ever experienced in your life.

"I don't know how I got so lucky", he kisses your forehead gently and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on your skin.

Chan's forehead kisses held a special place in your heart. You always felt them deep within you- as if he was kissing beyond your skin and into your soul.

"I'm the lucky one", you reply, standing on your tiptoes and pecking his forehead back. Chan blushes at your gesture, eyes crinkling closed like half moons. It made your heart sore, how affected he was by your touch even after four years of dating. You liked to believe you'd be seventy and still a giggling mess around each other.

Chan then twirls you around, your laugh echoing around the venue. He thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you laugh this way for the rest of your lives.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My feet are killing me", you whine to Chan as he parks in front of your apartment. You chose not to rush into your honeymoon, because you wanted to savor the quiet after your wedding, just the two of you. And you couldn't think of a better place to do so than your apartment.

It wasn't a huge one, but it had a makeshift studio for Chan, and a little balcony where you read. You painted the walls blue together and he bought you plants that you water everyday.

It was messy at times, but it was still your home. You knew that no matter what happened throughout the day, you can leave your worries at the door and head inside into each other's safe embrace.

Chan quickly hops to your side of the car, and opens it for you. He takes your heels off, throwing them into the backseat, before scooping you up bridal style.

"I've been dying to do this on our wedding night", he giggles excitedly and you smile, loosely looping your hands around his neck.

"Well now you can, husband."

"Say it again", he smiles as he leads you up to your apartment.

"My husband", you repeat and he quickly leans down to steal a kiss.

Chan opens the door to your apartment, finally placing you on solid ground. He loosens his black tie and you lean against the wall, admiring the view.

"Like what you see?", he teases and you smile mischievously, "This is what I married you for."

"So you are only with me for my looks?", he pouts. You would have thought he looked so adorable if not for him slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"I am", you smirk and suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder. You laugh as he runs towards the bedroom, with you perched on his back.

He then gently places you down on the bed, caging your body with his arms; any hint of playfulness gone from his eyes. His gaze is so intense, you feel a blush creep up your neck. He notices, of course, and he smiles softly at you. "Is my wife getting shy on me?"

"Shut up", you glare playfully at him, and he grins, "Make me."

"You are so cheesy", you giggle as you grab his tie, pulling him down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Morning, my love", Chan smiles at you, his hand threading through your hair gently.

"Morning, honey", you smile back, stretching slightly.

"Did you sleep well?", he asks, snuggling closer to you.

"Mhm, like a baby."

"I must have tired you yesterday", he smirks and you glare playfully at him, "Cocky much?"

"And you love it."

You're about to reply when your stomach grumbles loudly. "Is my pretty wife hungry?", he teases and you bite his arm in response.

"I'll take that as a yes", he chuckles, pulling you up with him, "Let's go make you breakfast."

"Make who breakfast?" you singsong and he smiles softly at you. "Make my wife breakfast."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

You are clad in Chan's oversized t-shirt and he's only wearing a pair of black shorts. The view of Chan's back muscles is so enticing you'd almost skip breakfast if you weren't so hungry.

When you are both done cooking, you happily dig into the breakfast while recounting the weddings events- how Hyunjin and Minho got so drunk they ended up confessing their love to each other, how Felix cried during your vows, how Seungmin and Jeongin surprised you with a song cover during your first dance. You can't help but sigh contently at how simple yet loving it felt.

You then wash the dishes while Chan dries them- an easy routine you both fell into as soon as he moved in with you.

You've been married to Chan for a day but you've loved him for what feels like forever.

When the kitchen is clean, you high-five him but he doesn't let your hand go. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing you closer to him.

"I love you", he whispers as his thumb slowly caresses your palm.

"I love you more."

"Impossible."

"But-", Chan silences you with his lips on yours, and you both can't help but smile into the kiss.

When he leans away, he bows down slightly, offering you his hand, "May i have this dance?"

You giggle as you curtsy back, "Yes you may."

Chan twirls you around the kitchen and you feel light as air. You then spin him around and you almost lose your balance, but Chan is there to steady you with a gentle grip.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to look around you. The kitchen is bathed in warm, golden light, and the aroma of freshly made coffee fills the air. You can't help but wonder what you'd look like to an outsider, waltzing in the kitchen with no music on.

But as you gaze up at your husband, you don't find it in you to care. You've come to learn that with Chan, even the silence can sound like the most enchanting melody.

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