#‘just a tender moment before falling asleep’

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm back! Thank you kindly for your patience, we're done with Act III! It was probably a terrible idea to wait because this is so long, I'm so sorry.

previously, in harrowhark! a vagrant the ninth:

this happened

also a couple previews that will show up in this but are in the tag

currently, chapters 24-31 (END OF ACT III!!!):

harrow wakes up after sleeping a sensible amount of hours in yandere twin's room

yandere twin, who's into chomping cavaliers, complains about having had some harrow soup

they have a sort of tender moment, I guess

they have a complicated dynamic

harrow falls asleep again

she's in the bed and yandere twin is sleeping on the floor

and harrow is woken by the sound of self inflicted pain and torture

harrow gets tired of this and decides to just rip yandere twin's arm off

@lady-harrowhark reminded me that I called this (!!!) in this recap

I had absolutely 100000% forgot I said that but congrats past me!!!

so, there's this scene in which harrow rips yandere twin's arm off and puts a new bone-y one in there, remade with her own parts

like this

some people have told me in the replies that it's a sessual sort of scene, and I get that, I suppose it was the vibe it was going for

total respect to that

but I'm gonna be honest here

it felt like I was witnessing a birth and harrow was the midwife

so harrow lets yandere twin know that she's been improving her necro powers via studying and practicing to try to make up for her being "lyctor lite"

harrow and alleged gideon aka ortus are the only people here that seem to be getting any work done tbh

so now, with the new arm, inner chad can use the sword again

and yandere twin is happy because she's now a proper lyctor and has senior chad aka augustine's approval

harrow is proud of herself for doing nice necro things like chopping and reconstructing arms

as a thanks, yandere twin agrees to help harrow to kill alleged gideon the first aka ortus

nobody asked you, but ok

I actually have no qualms with alleged gideon aka ortus

because he's at least direct and honest about it

everyone here has an agenda, at least this guy's like directly trying to physically kill harrow

at this point, I respect the direct approach

augustine and emperor reverend professor john can go fu—

WELL, ACTUALLY, WE'LL GET THERE LATER

CHAPTER 28

we're back at gideon-less canaan house

canaan house isn't safe in any universe, all the trails lead to death

everyone who's alive or accounted for is having a sleepover

there's a bunch of people unaccounted for, actually

the kiddos from the fourth are allegedly hidden elsewhere

who knows, at this point

I don't trust anyone

there's a fog and rain and water rising still

which reminds me of the movie identity, in which they all were trapped in that motel because it wasn't actually a motel and they weren't actually alive per-se

magnus and abby say that protozoa should have decked mayonnaise uncle

which is one of the reasons why the gideon universe is superior

aside from the presence of gideon and camilla

I miss them so much I'm gonna start biting cavaliers

anyway, where in the hell is duracell bunny nephew???

he wasn't with mayonnaise uncle when he yeeted himself

his soul, which got detached from his body in the gideon universe, is still flying like a balloon across universes and dimensions, I guess

abby didn't expect regina george twin to die, apparently, and says "if she's gone, then perhaps that means..." but doesn't elaborate

nobody ever elaborates

abby also makes harrowbean read another one of the "harrow texts"

I can't keep adding them all together in recaps because this will end up being super long but here goes the new one

"I will remember the first time you kissed me —you apologized— you said, I am sorry, destroy me as I am, but I want to kiss you before I am killed, and I said to you why, and you said, because I have only once met someone so utterly willing to burn for what they believed in, and I loved him on sight, and the first time I died I asked of him what I now ask of you. I kissed you and later I would kiss him too before I understood what you were, and all three of us lived to regret it—but when I am in heaven I will remember your mouth, and when you roast down in hell I think you will remember mine"

so yeah, we've got a triangular situation, I suppose

I need to put all of them together to continue to draw connections

my though was that this could be ice cube barbie aka annabel lee, because of the long-lost sun, but I'm unsure still

I don't think the timing fits the other side of the 3d model that's the gideon's mom and rebel leader situation

inconclusive still

abby suggests harrowbean she might be haunted

which might also fit with ice cube barbie??? maybe??? idk

CHAPTER 29

harrow says she doesn't remember shit about chad

get perpetually owned, chad

mercygirl asks harrow things about her necro process for the arm reconstructing and the last thing she asks is "what is the name of the saint of duty?" to which harrow says "ortus the first" and mercygirl goes

me and my "alleged gideon" theory are very happy about this

the hill I will die on

mercygirl continues to use onomatopoeias to express herself

I do not want to think about what that would imply in a later situation I don't want to dig into

"you read unholy omens in the way people say good morning" that's what these recaps are, thank you very much harrow

that's our tagline over here, that's our brand

"how you loathed any sentence beginning with augustine says" SAME, BESTIE

I HATE THAT MAN

he can go fu— ANYWAY

harrow and yandere twin are having sleepovers so that harrow isn't murdered in her sleep

apparently the nudes are cyrus and his cavalier and yandere twin likes that energy

they gifted them to others as souvenirs too

it's like if you had a university classmate who sent nudes to the groupchat every birthday

yandere twin says augustine the asshole has agreed to help kill alleged gideon aka ortus the first

I don't trust any of these lyctors if they're willing to kill each other this easily

how do I know they've got my back in combat if they don't have each other's backs—

I CAN'T EVEN ARTICULATE MY THOUGHTS AND NOT SOUND TERRIBLE NOW THAT I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS LATER IN THE PARTY

ANYWAY

yandere twin reminisces about not having been apart from regina george twin much in their lives and hoping she's sleeping well wherever she is

I also don't know where she is

yandere twin tells harrow that she was more farsighted than her

which I'm sure she was, but she doesn't seem to remember shit about it, and the letters remain unopened

harrow thinks it's kinda gross that the cyrus lyctor murdered his cavalier to become a lyctor and then took all of their nudes to the emperor's bolthole

none of these lyctors are operating from a place of common sense, harrow

"you were lucky that the memory of your own cavalier did not hurt you—except sometimes in the form of a sick headache in your temples, or in words stuck on repeat in your head"

so, augustine's plan involves dinner

harrow, hearing that, is like this

they look for clothes in the cavalier's things

yandere twin says "valancy trinit was my height, weighed more than both of us put together, and —judging by her portraits— had a body that did not quit"

I sure hope she's a thick girl, because I've had enough disappointment with the gideon cover not letting her have the arms she deserves

I hope valancy trinit looks kinda like this

ANYWAY, here's the makeover vibes, as previously shared

apparently chad could embroider, which I have to admit is a good quality

hate giving him any props, but I must be fair

harrow painted the less cute skull in her repertoire and we respect that

they went to augustine's room and he's still an asshat

I don't like how he treats yandere twin tbh

I feel like yandere twin has a thing with validation because of how her life has been and he uses that

augustine justifies his betrayal to his fellow lyctor saying that he "caused more pain over these last scant forty years than I dare to admit"

mercygirl is also here for the party, all dressed up

SO HERE'S THE THING

I am so embarrassed I didn't pick it up on the fly and it took me the whole chapter to put it together

augustine tells her "dios apate, minor"

at the time, I didn't remember what it meant, and when I finished reading the thing, I was like "oh, it's exactly like the deception of zeus"

I forgot that's what it was called

I mean, I got the "dios" part, obviously, but forgot the "apate"

my ancient greek professor is going to come back into my life to shoot me at my doorstep

to be fair to myself, it was a long while ago that I took ancient greek

AT LEAST I PICKED THE REFERENCE UP AFTER, OK????

god, I'm so embarrassed

palmolive, I'm so sorry, I promise I figured it out eventually

mercygirl punches augustine in the face, which is great

he insists on it being "minor", which idk where the line is there and I'm not gonna ask

idk which things are or aren't...involved in a minor form of zeus's deception

mercygirl says she's not wearing the right dress, I don't think it matters, it worked just fine

CHAPTER 30

everyone gets drunk except for alleged gideon aka ortus and harrow, because they're the only people in this group project who are doing the work

augustine and mercygirl start fighting about something their cavaliers did back in the day

they start toasting for cavaliers and talking about how "hot pyrrha was"

there is no respect for the dead in the emperor's bolthole

there's about to be something else in the emperor's bolthole in a minute though

I was excited about them drinking, though, because that's when people start spilling some truths

the lost commander of BOE is a "she", her name is/was Commander Wake, she almost killed alleged gideon aka ortus

I'm still spinning with the gideon's mom theory

and the background telenovela I've got going on

BOE found a Herald, killed it and turned it into weapons against these clowns

good for them, tbh, kill these drunk irresponsible bastards

emperor reverend professor doctor john thinks it's narcissistic of him to toast to himself

I want to murder him in cold blood

I hate this man so viscerally I want to rip him apart with my hands

the twist in this book is that I'm gonna reach to his murder and it's gonna be me

it's like bastian reading the neverending story but it's me killing this man

his full name is john gaius but I had been spoiled of his name by people not tagging their posts

he also does a "your mama" joke because he's my villain origin story

"part of your brain temporarily calcified into atheism" I'M GLAD, HARROW

so, they start to make out, all three of them

I finally caught up about zeus's deception and all about here

emperor awful is sandwiched between mercygirl on a table and augustine behind him and they forget there are children in the room

well, not children, but same difference, they're a million years old

harrow and yandere twin get the hell out of that display

CHAPTER 31

yandere twin wants to kiss harrowbean before she leaves to kill alleged gideon aka ortus, but harrow doesn't let her

harrow says "my affections lie buried in the Locked Tomb" to which yandere twin responds "Somebody might even exhume them for you"

when harrow mentioned not wanting to be touched while sleeping beside yandere twin, I remembered the pool hug and all that, that was a nice time

people were being killed left and right but it was a nice time

ANYWAY

harrow has a whole plan and has it all figured out, it's a really good plan, it works very nicely, but alleged gideon aka ortus isn't where they told her he was

sometimes, life works that way

the man you plan to kill isn't in the training room and all

she goes to look for him in not!dulcinea's crypt or whatever

and she sees this

and the spear

she follows the children's hospital trail of blood to the incinerator

alleged gideon aka ortus is inside the fire thingy and not!dulcinea is operating the controls

I wonder who could have predicted that this woman could still be an issue even after death

me, it was me

anyway, no time for I-told-you-so's because harrowbean decides to help him out of there

I'm very happy because I need him alive

he knows things and he's less bad than everyone else around here

because he's upfront about the killing

he tells her some things while he's kind of out of it

like to use blood wards instead of bone ones

that it will make her safe from "us"

"I know you're there. Kill me all you like. I would know you in the blindness of my eyes" he says and, among other things "Just tell me—back then—why you brought along the ba—"

WAS HE GONNA SAY BABY???? WHAT IF HE WANTED TO SAY BABY???

I'm still on my gideon agenda, sorry if it's embarrassing to read

of course emperor dickhead stops him before he can finish it

alleged gideon aka ortus says he doesn't remember shit afterwards and harrow sees her own mental state reflected in his

they can't find not!dulcinea, apparently

she's probably operating heavy machinery elsewhere

harrow is putting up her blood wards when she hears augustine and mercygirl argue about the whole zeus situation

the incinerator alarm apparently interrupted their plan of letting this happen

whether or not they had a hand on the not!dulcinea thing idk

mercygirl says she didn't move her

we end this act with ice cube barbie maybe annabel lee saying "The water is risen. So is the sun. We will endure."

obligatory yearning for camilla moment

That is the end of Act III and of my commentary because this was way too long and I need to make less chapters at a time istg

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

[gallawitchxx]

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

#welp - throws whatever this is at you #alskfjalkj #i realized that both of my kisses are at the very end of the ficlet & aren't actually described #lolol #maybe my next attempt should be 1K words of just describing the kiss #no actual context needed #just tongues #anyway THANKS DEANNA I LOVE YOU DEANNA #shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

[erikahenningsen]

Regina takes up 2/3 of the bed but it works for them because Cady sleeps curled up in a little ball. Regina hates having to sleep without Cady because sometimes she has nightmares and she always feels guilty about calling Cady in the middle of the night.

Now, please do this 😔🙏, or if you could, elaborate more. I'm currently in the midst of brainrot.

#grad school universe / Angie's fic

Regina wakes up just as the bus is about to hit her, breathing hard.

For a moment, she's completely disoriented, before she realizes she's in her bed, her apartment dark and silent.

Regina presses a hand to her forehead and finds it tacky with sweat, and her throat is a bit tender. She wonders if she had been screaming in her sleep. That's happened before—and completely scared the shit out of Cady the first time.

Cady.

Instinctively, Regina reaches to Cady's side of the bed, and finds it cold and empty. Right. Cady is at her apartment in New Haven. Regina is still getting used to spending more nights apart than together. She'd never tell Cady, but she thinks the nightmares have become more frequent as a result.

Regina wants to call Cady. She needs to hear her voice. It's the only thing that slows her heart, which is still pounding inside her chest with panic. But it's the middle of the night, and Cady has class in the morning.

Regina rolls over and tries to ignore it, to will herself back to sleep—or at least into a calmer state. But every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Cady staring at her with horror as the bus plows into her body. Sometimes, in the dreams, the bus hits Cady instead. Those are the worst ones.

After a couple of minutes of trying to relax by sheer force of will, Regina tries deep breathing. She tries listening to some calming music. She even tries a free meditation video on YouTube, even though she thinks it's stupid. But she doesn't feel even a little bit better.

Before she can overthink it, she taps on Cady's contact and holds her breath as the phone rings.

Just as Regina thinks the call is going to time out, Cady picks up. The screen is dark, but Regina can make out part of Cady's face on the screen.

"Regina?" Cady mumbles sleepily. She squints against the light of her phone. "You okay?"

"Hi, baby," Regina whispers. She feels guilt flare in her stomach at Cady's sleepy face, but she already feels less like she's having a heart attack.

Cady runs a hand down her face. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asks.

Regina cringes a little at the wording—it makes it sound like she's four years old—but now is not the time.

"Yeah," Regina says. "I just needed to see you."

Cady makes a vague gesture that might be a wave. "Here I am."

"And so beautiful, as always," Regina says. She's always found it quite unfair how Cady looks gorgeous all the time, even in the middle of the night.

"I love you," Cady says, with so much affection that Regina physically aches to be with her. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Me, too," Regina says. "Most of the time."

Cady makes a displeased noise, and Regina knows if it weren't the middle of the night and they weren't in separate states Cady would insist on having A Conversation about the most of the time part.

For a few moments, Regina just looks at Cady's face. Well, more like half of her face. At a weird angle. But her breathing has returned almost to normal, and she isn't trembling anymore.

"I'm gonna fall asleep," Cady admits, eyelids drooping, "but I'll leave my phone on."

"Good night," Regina says. "I love you."

Cady kisses the tips of her fingers and taps them against the screen as her eyes close.

It'll have to do, for now.

#cadina #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #regina george #cady heron #grad school universe #ask #anonymous #prompts

[iwanthermidnightz]

*excerpts below — but I highly recommend reading the full article in link above*

Hit Me Hard and Soft dunks us headfirst back into that universe, from the deepest wallows of depression to the exhaustion that comes with the world speculating about her every move. There are no arachnids where they shouldn’t be, but getting in touch with her darker side has Eilish finally feeling like herself again. “I feel like this album is me,” she says. “It’s not a character. It feels like the When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? version of me. It feels like my youth and who I was as a kid.”

Although 2019 felt like a whirlwind of madness at the time, she has found herself missing it. “It was the best time of my life,” she says. “This whole process has felt like I’m coming back to the girl that I was. I’ve been grieving her. I’ve been looking for her in everything, and it’s almost like she got drowned by the world and the media. I don’t remember when she went away.”

The title Hit Me Hard and Soft derives from a conversation she had with Finneas, when she mistakenly thought the name of a synth in Logic Pro was called Hit Me Hard and Soft. “I thought it was such a perfect encapsulation of what this album does,” she explains. “It’s an impossible request: You can’t be hit hard and soft. You can’t do anything hard and soft at the same time. I’m a pretty extremist person, and I really like when things are really intense physically, but I also love when things are very tender and sweet. I want two things at once. So I thought that was a really good way to describe me, and I love that it’s not possible.”

Eilish and Finneas call Hit Me Hard and Soft “an album-ass album.” It’s not a concept record, but it is a self-consciously cohesive set of songs, inspired by auteurist works from the past 15 years or so, like Coldplay’s Viva La Vida, Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die, Tyler, the Creator’s Goblin, Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart, and Vince Staples’ Big Fish Theory.

“Lunch,” a complete 180 in both sound and subject content. It’s a sexy, bass-heavy banger where Eilish is crushing on a girl so hard she likens sex with her to devouring a meal. Finneas remembers playing this moment for Interscope and witnessing the team shift in their seats. “What’s funny about starting the album with [the opener] is that it is a total false promise,” he says. “If you’re remembering ‘What Was I Made For?’ and then you hear [it], you go, ‘Oh, OK. I understand this world.’ Then the drums come in [on “Lunch”], and it really is the kill-the-main-character-type beat. It��s like Drew Barrymore being in the first five minutes of Scream and then they kill her. You’re like, ‘They can’t kill Drew. Oh, my God, they killed Drew!’”

Eilish and I spend a lot of time talking about the new era she is about to kick off, and how she’ll promote Hit Me Hard and Soft while prioritizing her mental health, privacy, and well-being. With all of that in mind, I wonder if she’s ready for journalists to pepper her with questions about the album’s subject matter, particularly the sexual nature of “Lunch.” “That song was actually part of what helped me become who I am, to be real,” Eilish says. “I wrote some of it before even doing anything with a girl, and then wrote the rest after. I’ve been in love with girls for my whole life, but I just didn’t understand — until, last year, I realized I wanted my face in a vagina. I was never planning on talking about my sexuality ever, in a million years. It’s really frustrating to me that it came up.”

Eilish is referring to her interview with Variety last fall, in which she mentioned she was attracted to women. The quote — “I’m attracted to them for real” — became a national headline. The following month, Eilish attended Variety’s Hitmakers event in L.A. While on the red carpet, she was asked if she intentionally came out in the story. “No, I didn’t,” she told them. “But I kind of thought, ‘Wasn’t it obvious?’” Eilish then posted about it on Instagram, with a caption that read, “Thanks Variety for my award and for also outing me on a red carpet at 11 a.m. instead of talking about anything else that matters. I like boys and girls leave me alone about it please literally who cares.”

Looking back, Eilish admits she overreacted with the Instagram post. “Who fucking cares?” she says. “The whole world suddenly decided who I was, and I didn’t get to say anything or control any of it. Nobody should be pressured into being one thing or the other, and I think that there’s a lot of wanting labels all over the place. Dude, I’ve known people that don’t know their sexuality, or feel comfortable with it, until they’re in their forties, fifties, sixties. It takes a while to find yourself, and I think it’s really unfair, the way that the internet bullies you into talking about who you are and what you are.”

As for that red-carpet quote that made all the headlines, Eilish says she tried to think of a response that would be entertaining for her fans and the internet. “I went into Billie Eilish interview mode, [like], ‘Oh, I don’t care. Yeah, I’ll say whatever. Wasn’t it obvious?’” she says. “And then afterwards I was like, ‘Wait. It wasn’t obvious to me.’”

Thinking about it now, she draws a bigger lesson from that moment. “I know everybody’s been thinking this about me for years and years, but I’m only figuring out myself now,” she says. “And honestly, what I said was funny, because I really was just saying what they’ve all been saying.” She adds that she liked the journalist she was talking to and didn’t want to be rude. But she still felt exploited. “Bro, I have asthma out here,” she says. “I fucking can’t take a breath.”

If Eilish had the opportunity to do it over again on the red carpet, she says, she wouldn’t have answered the question. But she acknowledges it could have been worse. “I’m lucky enough to be in a time when I’m able to say something like that and things go OK for me,” she says. “And that’s not how a lot of people’s experience is.”

Eilish has officially decided to make some changes to the way she presents herself to the world. “This album, to me, feels like a way to restart, in terms of my sharing,” she says. So let’s take a second to reintroduce Billie Eilish, the home-schooled bohemian who captured our attention as a teenager. She’s 22 now, yet she’s more self-aware than people twice her age. She would like some space to grow, to figure out exactly who she is — no label required. She is not the poster child for anything. And she is not, she’d like to note, a TED Talk speaker. So where does that leave us? Eilish sums things up with four simple words that point to her desire for normalcy and acceptance.

“I’m just a girl.”

#please read the whole article from this link #she really went there #billie eilish

[mosstrades]

i love you autumn i love you autumn i love you autumn i love you i love you

#nick.txt #im cozy. im so fucking cozy #it's 15c and rainy outside #im wearing soft tights and soft sweaters up to my palms im wearing chunky socks and drinking tea #its so quiet and gentle everywhere outside and inside #i can wear my binder again finally #theres a quiet and a kindness about this moment of the year i need to learn to bring with me to the rest of it #but god after a tumultuous summer theres nothing quite like being able to settle into known peaceful patterns #tea! oh to be cold and made warm! #oh to be cold and made warm #and temps dropping coincided precisely with my week off #so i can just cocoon for a bit #i forgot it could feel like this. im so glad it still can #warm enough i can go outside without it being an Expedition. cold enough i need to hold myself to keep myself warm #whole world nodding off before it falls asleep #i'll learn better words to put to all this but for now it's just. autumn makes it easier to be kind and im not sure why but god #it is good #something about stillness something about the intentionality of warming yourself up something about it #something about the cold making my hip ache and the tenderness of a hot water bottle and a blanket #something about a winter sun

[yuujispinkhair]

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Lots of fluff. Minors don't interact. Divider @/cafekitsune

Just cuddling in bed with modern!boyfie Sukuna. It's late at night, and you're both sleepy, but the dim indirect lighting is still on, bathing the bedroom in a soft, warm light. Sukuna is only in his black boxer briefs, and you wear panties and one of Sukuna's shirts with no bra beneath. The two of you are entangled in a warm embrace, cuddling and sharing tender, deep kisses. Everything feels so warm and cozy and a bit hazy because of how sleepy you are.

Your hands travel lazily over Sukuna's gorgeous body, caressing his broad back and his biceps. Just a light touch of your fingers to his firm muscles and tattooed skin because you love to be gentle with your bad boy. And you feel Sukuna's hands on your body, too. Slipping under your (his) shirt, caressing your waist with a matching tenderness. Your bad boy, who can be so rough with everyone else but who is so gentle with you, so soft only for his girl.

You feel sleepy but so happy with your boyfriend so close to you, his tall, strong body making you feel safe, his lips, which can say such rude things to others, moving so gently against yours and murmuring sweet nothings against your skin.

Those slow, deep kisses while your bodies are pressed against each other like that could easily lead to sex. But tonight, you both just enjoy this closeness, the intimacy of sharing those tender cuddles before falling asleep. Sweet, secret moments shared between the two of you. Moments that Sukuna would never share with anyone else. This side of him is only for you.

You only stop kissing when you are both too tired to continue. Your eyes fall shut, your breathing calms down. And Sukuna snuggles against you, lying half on top of you, resting some of his weight on you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him and caressing his tattooed skin.

You can feel him smile against your skin, where his face is buried in the crook of your neck. A soft, contented hum is heard when you scratch his undercut. You smile sleepily and turn your face to kiss the top of Sukuna's pink hair, overcome with how much you love him and how gently you want to treat him. Your feelings for him are evident in how tender you sound when you whisper,

"I love you, Kuna."

Sukuna's happy sigh, followed by a murmured "I love you too, princess," in that sexy, sleepy voice, is the last thing you hear before drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

#I AM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM 💗 #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, drugging

fem reader

Thinking about a human collector who decides he wants a new pet to add to his collection...

The air of the animal shelter is polluted by whimpers, howls, and growling as he parades past all sorts of rareties locked up in their cages – all for him to pick and choose from. 

The warden is telling him about the new swan hybrid they wrangled a week ago, wings like an angel with the grace of royalty, a true prize jewel of any collection. 

He thinks it sounds promising before strolling past you.

Placed in one of the smaller cages on the floor, seemingly tucked away so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

You’re a sorry sight to behold – all starved and shaking – the collar around your throat too heavy for you to lift your head, having to look up at him through your lashes as he crouches down in front of you.

Your eyes are wide like two moons as he sticks a finger in through the bars.

It’s thick like a carrot, and for a moment, you seem like you’re about to scurry away into the very back of your cage – but instead, you inch closer, sniffing at the digit before suddenly snapping at him.

He backs away with a hiss, drawing the warden's attention – who rushes back and knocks his cain against the cage with a growl in his throat, “Stupid critter.” 

You’ve narrowed your eyes, nose wrinkled in anger – something akin to a snarl forming your lips. It’s a funny expression to see on such a normally docile breed.

“I’m really sorry, sir. Bunnies aren't usually aggressive, but we’ve had issues disciplining this one for weeks.” The warden rushes out the apologetic excuse, expecting to be sued.

But the collector only chuckles – a deep sound that makes your soft fur stiffen. “That’s fine.” 

He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, all movements calm and collected as he wipes the spill of blood trickling from the small bite mark you’d left on his finger.

“It’s only a nibble, after all.” 

You spit the bitter taste left in your tongue out on his shoes with another sneer.

If it angers him, it still doesn’t show through the lofty smile he wears. His leer is just as poised and heavy as he looks down at you.

“Does she talk?”

The warden had turned to lead him towards the more desirable and tamed section but halted at the question.

He had a puzzled look on his face before he answered, almost in a question himself, “We don’t know.”

The collector scoffed out another small laugh, then pulled out his phone. “How much?”

The warden seemed appalled then. “Sir, we have exotic pets more up to your standard in the back. Are you sure-”

“I want this one.”

The warden looked snuffed at his firm tone. But straightened himself out after a moment. All business as usual. “We can’t guarantee she’ll behave. It could be dangerous-”

But he’s cut off yet again, this time with another rumbling chuckle.

“That won’t be an issue.”

And those dark eyes with that deeply dominating look within them were the last thing you remember seeing before becoming a sleepy heap on the floor of your cage – drooling with a blank stare as you’re carried to the trunk and driven off with.

The tranquilizer makes you fall asleep, waking to heat swallowing you as you’re lowered into a bathtub.

“Let’s get you groomed first.” The same man murmurs in a coo. Petting your head with a heavy hand when seeing your weary eyes try blinking off the sleep – but still left too drowsy to thrash.

Instead, you can just moan as he washes you with a tender smile on his face – his big hands coarse against your creamy skin, rubbing your plush limbs with soap and oil.

“My pets have been an awful handful lately…”

He’s talking about something, but you only catch bits and pieces of the words being said. Something about ruts and scratched furniture – someone’s been pissing in the sofa, and all the pillows are ruined.

He messages the lops of your ears, then rinses them gently.

“But it’s my fault. I’ve been neglectful.”

He cups your tits next, lathering them with the warm milky water, circling your nipples with the gritty pads of his thumbs until they perk.  

Then he delves under the water to find your puffy cunt, letting the hot water rush the sensitivity, making it swell with heat as he splits the lips and pets your clit. 

You buck your hips, and he awes with a light chuckle, crooning down at you. “It's okay, little bunny.”

His carrot-sized finger teases your hole before sinking inside you, filling you in slow and tentative pumps. Sitting next to the tub, just as composed as before, while your cunt squeezes his knuckles.

He hums, watching your body fight the tranquilizer as you seize up and ripple with release.

He retracts his hand, patting them both on the fluffy towel placed next to him. A content smile on his face. “You’re gonna do perfect.”

After he’s finished drying you, he fixes a collar around your throat and carries you out to the others.

“Gather ‘round, pets.” He announces, placing you down on the soft carpeted floors beneath.

Your limbs are still heavy, too weak to stand just yet. But that all changes with the adrenaline kick.

“Come say hi to your new rut-puppet.”

The stench in the air coats your skin with sweat.

“She’s a fragile thing, though, so make sure to play nice.”

Your big eyes skitter around. 

On your left, there’s a wolf, fox, and hyena who all lick their teeth at the sight of you.

Next to them lies a bear that wakens from his slumber. He licks his snout with a huff.

Drool drips from the hang in their lips as they start panting. 

And they aren't the only ones.

On your right, there’s a panther and leopard whose eyes all blackout into nothing but a deep pool of darkness.

Their tails slowly meander behind them as they arise from their beds to stalk you.

You whimper, backing up until your back hits the legs of your new owner.

You lift your head to look up at him, only to see him smiling down at you.

“Don’t be shy now. The smell of fear only makes them wilder.”

part 2

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut

[lovelyghst]

craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.

just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.

it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.

he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.

you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.

he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.

though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.

“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”

your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.

kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.

lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.

he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.

your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.

“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”

he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.

the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.

you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.

he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.

“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.

“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”

he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.

he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.

your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.

erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.

you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.

and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.

“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”

you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.

“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”

you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.

“i missed all of you...”

his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.

“some parts more than others, clearly.”

“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.

“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.

“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”

“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”

“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.

you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.

“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.

and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.

you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.

“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”

you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.

your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.

maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3

#i got carried away #cod mw #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

[fangswbenefits]

Intimacy

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Fangs. Implied breeding kink. A comprehensive study on intimacy with Miguel O’Hara.

“She’s finally sound asleep.”

Holding back a yawn as you entered the living room, you were promptly met with a very heavy-eyed Miguel O’Hara on the couch, enjoying the comforts of home.

“Thank you,” he said truthfully, straightening up lightly in his seat. “Come here.”

You paced towards him, lazily settling on his lap, both legs framing his as two big and warm hands sprawled across your back, pulling you into an embrace.

Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut once cheek came to rest on his shoulder, taking in his body warmth and enjoying the steady heartbeat that drummed against your chest.

You figured you might just fall asleep and don’t fight against it. Taking care of a baby had been taking a toll on you both as of late, but it was to be expected.

Still, you missed moments like this. No talking, just feeling right at home in a silent embrace.

Miguel planted a few kisses to the back of your neck, but they were void of any sexual bearing. You knew what he meant with those. Absolute gratitude and devotion.

“Next time, I’ll put her to sleep,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm.”

His hands glided along your back, fingertips applying just enough pressure to raise goosebumps across your skin.

“I mean it.”

“You’re also tired,” you drawled out with a yawn, body slumping fully into him. “Work and all that…”

Another tender kiss. “But I have responsibilities here, too.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“You taught me how.”

Point taken.

Silent seconds ticked by and you shifted on his lap into a more comfortable position, ready to enter the valley of dreams.

“I miss you,” he said all of a sudden.

His hands settled on your arms to straighten you, a pair of red eyes encasing yours.

“I miss us.”

Miguel wasn’t a man to deliver empty words as filler, so you knew that he genuinely meant it, which had your heart to skip a beat.

His digital suit began to fragment and reced, exposing the skin underneath. Your placed your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles flex under your touch.

He was so handsome. Almost unfairly so.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

You nodded, bringing your lips to meet his in a lazy kiss as you dragged your fingers along his hair, earning a moan of approval.

It was a slow and steady kiss. You were in no hurry and wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity.

One of his hands slid to grope your breast and you felt him groan against you lips, breaking contact.

His half-hooded eyes were now on your chest, and as you followed his line of sight, you realised what had caught his attention.

Your shirt was getting soaked with milk.

Damn.

Two round damp spots spread across the fabric that covered each nipple, and you felt instant embarrassment take over. “Sorry… wanted to pump before putting her to bed, but she—”

“Don’t ever apologise for this,” he silenced you at once.

You tried to slide off the couch to fix yourself, but he kept you in place with both hands gripping your waist, pushing you down on him.

“Stay.”

Oh?

“I’ll help.”

Oh.

“Miguel…”

Masterful fingers worked their way down the buttons of your nightgown to reveal your heaving breasts.

You knew that look on his face.

Hunger.

“So full,” he said more to himself, cupping both of them softly.

A few droplets coated both nipples and he brushed the pad of his thumbs along the sensitive skin, earning a jerk from you.

The tingling between your legs emerged in full force from just the sight of him staring at you like he could devour you whole.

He craned his neck just enough to capture one nipple with his lips before latching hungrily.

The overwhelming sensation was enough to have you clinging to his broad shoulders for support. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped once you felt him sucking gently.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the growing pressure between your legs from his hardening cock.

“Be gentle,” you moaned, caressing his cheek that would rhythmically hollow as he downed your milk.

“Hmmm.”

Then your hand came to his neck and you gently gripped it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp.

You stared adoringly at him, slowly grinding into his covered cock. A raw groan reverberated through his throat, and you could tear your eyes away from the sight of the warm liquid pooling in the corner of his mouth.

The latch was just perfect and felt too good.

You brought your hand to caress his face once more, brushing a few strands of his hair away.

“You’re so good…” you moaned.

His cock twitched at your praise, and you could feel the wetness damping his own underwear. Now he was the one leaking for you, his body full on auto-pilot as precum readied him for more.

A couple of droplets began to run down his chin, dripping and drenching his underwear.

“No fangs…”

You’d felt them grazing your skin lightly, but you couldn’t really blame Miguel. His fangs would emerge from either extreme anger or blinding pleasure. A roll from your hips with added pressure was enough to tear his lips from your nipple, head falling back and mouth parting with a raw moan.

He bared both sets of fangs as both hands gripped your waist. Your own mouth dropped open as haziness filled your vision, absolutely revelling in seeing your own milk dripping from his lips and down his muscular neck.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut.

You hurried to collect some of the beads of milk from his skin, but Miguel intercepted you midway, capturing you into a searing kiss. His tongue hurriedly slipped past your lips and you tasted sweetness.

Parting yourself from him, you focused on the grind of your hips and Miguel snapped open his crimson eyes, lust dilating his pupils.

“I’m not… I’m not…” he mumbled incoherently, too lost in his pleasure. “I’m not… lasting…”

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m surprised you lasted this long,” you whispered seductively, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse point on his neck. “So much stamina…”

Miguel was a sucker for praise and it was the easiest and fasted way to get him to crumble.

Your clit rubbed against his covered cock in a steady rhythm as more droplets of milk kept dripping from your nipples. Your eyes roamed along his chest that was glistening as beads of white liquid streamed down.

Suddenly, Miguel pulled you into him, your breasts now squeezed in between you two, more liquid pouring out.

He titled your head and immediately latched his lips against your neck, fangs nearly puncturing the flushed skin.

“You ride me so good,” he murmured hungrily against you.

A moan tangled in your throat and your hips surged to encourage his, ruthlessly intensifying the pleasure. Miguel picked up the speed again and you felt each burst of bliss at every thrust and desperate to feel the next.

Your orgasm was upon you faster than you had expected, the sense of urgency in his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Miguel… Miguel…” you moaned, your panties completely drenched.

“Inside… please…”

Desperate fingers clawed at your underwear, sliding it to the side as the tip of his cock nudged at your entrance. He slid inside effortlessly, bottoming up in an instant, and after a moment he gave a harsh cry and shoved himself so deeply and tightly against you that you gasped, clenching hard around him.

Miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck in a failed attempt to muffle his groans.

He kept grinding and rocking against you with stifled grunts, spurting hotly inside.

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing followed, and you sank against him weakly as if drained of all energy.

A familiar waile filled the room, making you wince.

“Shit… were we too loud?” you asked, trying to ease your breathing.

Miguel was still buried deep inside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I’ll go check on her.”

You could tell he reluctantly slid out, easing you on your back. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily, and you felt some of his warm cum spilling

“Keep it in,” he said, pressing your legs together as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv miguel

[ode2rin]

clingy!rin is my favorite rin <3

it’s 4:30 am, and rin is now wide awake.

rin woke up 30 minutes before his alarm went off. his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. he blinked a few times, his brain slowly registering that something was off.

that's when he saw your figure turning away from him, your back facing him. you weren't cuddled in his arms like how he remembered falling asleep.

he frowned, his eyebrows furrowed, a typical expression he held in his everyday life, but never towards you. never because of you. except now.

this was the first time it happened. or was it? did you always slip away from his hold when he was fast asleep? did you not like having him close like how he wanted you snuggled in him? or maybe he did something wrong last night? was it something he said? he couldn't recall.

all he knew right now was that he didn't like it. you don’t get to do this to him, rin thought. cuddles were a must for him to function properly! he will never tell you that but he knows you know that!

he laid there for a moment, staring at your back. as much as he hated what was happening right now, he didn't want to wake you up. because as much as you love and adore rin, the earliest of waking up as a part of the pro-athlete life was something you would never try. who in their right mind would wake up at the crack of dawn just to be tired all over again? definitely not you.

rin continued staring at you until his alarm went off. the loud blaring of his alarm stirred you from your sleep. slowly, you turned to rin, and your sleepy eyes blinked up to meet his narrowed ones.

uh oh. someone didn’t have a great sleep, you thought.

“your alarm, rinnie. time to start the day.” you said.

that’s all you could say? no explanation? fine. 

rin let out what seemed like a huff, causing you to open your eyes. lo and behold, rin was pouting.

rin itoshi was pouting. at 5 am.

curious as to what was making your lover sulk so early in the morning, you reached out to cup his jaw. “what’s wrong, baby?” you asked softly.

“you.”

it was now your turn to frown. “me? what do you mean?”

“you were turned away from me.” rin said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

you must be on a mission to completely infuriate him as you utter a “huh?” in response.

“i woke up and you were turned away from me.” rin replied, a little bolder and louder this time.

“oh.”

rin scoffed at your realization, completely opposite to the smile forming on your lips. 

you opened your arms, beckoning him closer. “come here, rinnie,” you said, your voice tender and soothing.

rin might be feeling a little grumpy, but who was he to decline such a sweet offer?

slowly, rin laid himself in your arms, his face buried in your neck as he took his time to get lost in your scent.

you stroked rin's hair, “i'm sorry,” you said, leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead, kissing the grumpiness away, “i must have moved in my sleep.”

rin let out a sigh at your answer, accepting that it was out of your control.

he wrapped his arms around you tighter, pulling you close to him. “just don't do it again,” he said, his voice hot against your neck. “i need you close to me.”

you smiled at his words. even if your boyfriend might be frequently grumpy and unconventionally clingy, you still wouldn’t have it any other way.

#☁️ my ode to you #I AM CRAZY ABOUT HIM #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

[tommyshelbyslittleprincess]

𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆; 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒃𝒚

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; tommy notices your pregnancy before you do

the night was calm, the moon casting a soft silvery glow through the curtains of the room you and tommy shared. as the streets outside murmured with the remnants of the day, you lay in bed, shifting and turning. the sheets rustled as you tried to find a comfortable position, your restlessness a silent symphony in the dimly lit room.

lying next to you, tommy couldn’t help but notice. his gaze followed the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers absently brushed against the fabric of your shy pink nightie.

after a moment, tommy propped himself up on an elbow, his brow furrowing with a careful mixture of annoyance and concern. you glance at your husband, eyes meeting his icy ones in the quiet of the night.

“can’t sleep?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur that carried a depth of understanding for your situation.

you sighed, a hint of frustration tugging at your tender lips. “it’s like i can’t get comfortable. oh tommy, i’ve been tossing and turning all night.”

tommy reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “something botherin’ you, angel?”

you hesitated, gaze holding his for a moment longer before you shook your head. “i just … can’t get comfortable,” you whine, pouting your lips.

he opens his arms for you and you lean into his comfortable embrace. albeit, it was much easier to feel lulled with him beside you. it was a delicacy that had become so fleeting within a few months of marriage. usually he'd come to bed after you'd fallen asleep, and woke before you started to stir.

as the silence lingered, tommy’s gaze softened, his eyes tracing the soft slopes of your face. in that moment, a realization seemed to settle over him, piece by piece, like a puzzle coming together.

“love,” he began slowly, his voice a mix of tenderness and curiosity. “i’ve been noticing things lately. changes.”

you met his gaze, your curiosity piqued. “changes?”

tommy’s fingers brushed against your flushed cheek, his touch gentle as he spoke. “you’ve been feeling sick over certain smells, right? complaining about the food in the kitchen?”

you blinked, clearly taken aback by his sudden but astute observations. “that’s true.”

“ and i’ve noticed you’ve been tired. more than usual,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on your skin

you nodded slowly, a mixture of surprise and curiosity dawning in your eyes. “i’ve been struggling to keep my eyes open lately.”

tommy paused, his gaze searching yours before he spoke again, his voice softer. “and there’s the restlessness. tossing and turning all night.”

your breath caught as the realization dawned on you, and you met his gaze with a swirling mixture of emotions.

“tommy, what are you…?”

you trail off as his fingers trace your silky nightie that had once fit just right around your curves but was now becoming snug around your waist. his fingers slid down to cup your gently rounded tummy, his touch light and deliberate.

“your hips,” he said, his voice a hushed murmur. “they’re different now. rounder. as well as your tummy…”

you blushed, your nervous laughter a mixture of shyness and surprise. “oh, so you’ve noticed that?”

you'd figured it had something to do with the way you've been indulging lately. you were thankful your husband chose not to mention your newfound voracious appetite. you were ashamed of how unladylike your eating habits had become, especially on nights when your husband didn't accompany you to dinner.

his gaze held yours, his smile tender as he continued to trace over your softer tummy. “couldn’t very well miss it now, could i?”

tommy’s thumb brushed against your knuckles, his touch a reassuring anchor once he sees you flush at his teasing. “don’t worry, angel, it suits you.”

you smile shyly and bury your face into his shoulder. a moment passes and tommy speaks again.

his fingers brushed against your stomach as he spoke, “i think i might know what’s going on, love.”

a beat of silence passes, then, you realize what your husband could be hinting at.

"yeah?" you breathe, staring into your husband's eyes to confirm your suspicions. you'd figured that you might've been carrying when your monthly had failed to arrive for a second month in a row, but it didn't quite register as a concern until tommy had started to notice.

"i think you're expecting." his words are tender, both of you sharing a moment of silent revaluation.

"tommy..."

you hadn't been trying for a baby, though neither of you were opposed to the idea of children. you'd discussed it on your wedding night, and tommy had promised that he'd give you as many children as you wanted under the humble request that he'd be able to have a year to spend with just his wife before adding any new additions.

“i understand if you’re not happy about this, i know you said you—”you begin to ramble, but get cut off by your husband pressing a stern finger over your lips to prevent any more anxious words from waltzing out.

“shh, love,” he murmurs, “‘m happy about it.” your can feel your eyes fill with tears at his words. mood swings already, you think, how did he notice before you did?

“truly?” you look up into his eyes to see a familiar tenderness, reserved only for you and now apparently your child.

he sighs happily and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead.“truly.”

#━━━ .°˖✧ tommyshelbyslittleprincess ⋆˙⊹ #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine

[tojipie]

mma fighter toji? (im so happy tk see that you’re back btw ❤️)

i really do think this is the best ask i’ve ever gotten pls feel proud of ur brain before u go to bed tonight bc ily. wrote this on the verge of falling asleep if u see any spelling error no u did not.

mma fighter!toji x reader | 1k words

content: violence, injury, blood, reader objectified by stranger

────────────────────────

“you got it, you got—don’t fucking look at her, look at me fushiguro!” your boyfriend’s manager yells, holding a bucket to the younger man’s heaving chest with a sigh.

toji nods at the command, taking a swig of water and spitting into the vessel before wiping his mouth with an ungloved hand. fighters never drank in the ring, it’d only settle heavy in your stomach. make you easier to catch.

blood and saliva drip down his chin and onto the floor of the ring, bright red patters against black mesh.

you watch the veins in toji’s neck pulse underneath sweaty skin, decorated with swirls of black and grey ink. his tattoos extend down his chest and back, working to cover the mess of purple and blue bruises across his body.

on his rib lies a scrawl of your name, etched into his skin for millions to see every time he stepped into the ring.

the raven haired man says something unintelligible to his team before smacking his temple with his glove, almost as if he was trying to knock something back into place.

you cringe at the thought of a brain injury so early into his career. you’d heard stories before, world class fighters reduced to shells of themselves. shot memories, seizures, even paralysis. you try not to think too deeply about it.

the TV screens in front of you pan to across the ring to his opponent. ryomen sukuna, 2 years into his career with every title under the sun.

everything except heavyweight champion. the name belonging to the winner of this very match.

sukuna was terrifying, completely unfazed by the rivets of blood pouring from his temple and left nostril. you’d quite literally watched him pop his nose back into place during the first break after your boyfriend had dealt a serious blow to it. to say this man scared you was an understatement.

toji notices your anxiety, leaning against the mesh wall of the ring to look down at you in the front row.

“you watchin’?” he yells with a grin, barely coherent over the mixed sounds of cheers and boos.

you smile, though your boyfriend scowls at the onslaught of paparazzi trying to capture the tender moment. he spits at the see-through wall of the ring to serve as an unspoken “fuck you.” cheers ring out from the sidelines as the screens capture the interaction.

toji turns to you and pushes off of the mesh wall, throwing his hands out with a “tsk” and a shake of his head.

“you worried about me baby?” he teases, fully aware that the cameras are still on him. “you don’t gotta worry about me, right?.”

you laugh, motioning for security to shoo any onlookers off. the mix of adrenaline and attention was clearly getting to him, though you loved when he got cocky like this. he always fucked you hardest after a big win.

the two men settle back into the middle of the ring, the referee separating them with an stern arm. sukuna looks down at you with an unreadable expression, pinning you to your seat with just a glance. toji’s pink-haired opponent turns back to him with a sinister grin, taking out his mouthguard to speak clearly. you only manage to make out the end of his insult, blood running cold as his words register.

“..and after they give me that title? i might fuck that little girlfriend of yours, fushiguro.”

toji says nothing, expression blank. you begin to wonder if he even heard the other man, but the buzz signifying round 3 pulls you out of your thoughts. you brace for whatever may come next.

sukuna is a brick wall, but toji’s light on his feet, weaving in and out of punches with his gloves guarding his face.

he’s faster than usual, spurred on by adrenaline and anger.

he lands a kick to sukuna’s ribs, the sickening crunch reaching the front row right on impact. definitely two, maybe even three broke ribs you hear a fan spectate.

his opponent curses, landing two punches to his chest before knocking toji to the ground, just barely missing the raven haired man with a solid blow right as he springs upwards.

“you gonna fuck her?” toji scoffs, landing another kick to sukuna’s injured ribs. you can barely make out their conversation even with a front row seat, you doubt anyone in the stands has been able to understand them this whole time.

the pink-haired man winces on impact, his first show of weakness since the beginning of the match.

“huh? tell me.” your boyfriend muses, dodging a kick and throwing sukuna to the floor. cheers ring out in the stadium at the direct show of brutality, you cover your mouth in anticipation.

toji settles his body weight on the man below him, twisting his arm as far as it will go while keeping his face to the floor. his legs wrap around and under the second man, squeezing his injured ribs like a vice with his thighs.

sukuna lands a blow with his free arm, then another, then another. toji does nothing, holding his opponent down with a smile almost too wide, too sinister.

“fuck.. fuck!” sukuna yells, struggling under the weight of the man above him.

the crowd is in hysterics, the announcers are out of their seats. “an unprecedented burst of energy,” you hear them call it. nothing like they’d ever seen before during any of toji’s matches.

you have to fight off the ego boost it gives you, knowing he’s only fighting this hard for you. because another man dared to speak on your name in his presence.

toji takes a couple more punches with that same smile, finally grabbing his opponent’s free arm to render the other man motionless.

you stagger out of your seat, running into the isle to get a better view of the ring.

the referee crouches by the two men, waiting to call the match. sukuna shares a look with third man, groaning before tapping toji’s wrist three times.

the crowd is animalistic. screams, wails, jeers, all of it meshes together within seconds.

toji’s security forms a circle around you, leading you towards the ring as fans flood the isles in celebration.

that was it, he’d won the title. Fushiguro Toji, heavyweight champion.

sukuna is led out of the ring by his team, choosing to forego any post-match interviews. he doesn’t dare look at you as he passes you on the steps, humiliated beyond belief.

calls of your name echo out from the center of the ring, your boyfriend pushing past paparazzi to scoop you into his arms.

the heat from his torso melts into yours as he clutches you to his body. he’s sweaty, practically bleeding from every direction too. but he’s smiling.

it’s not the smile he puts on for press, a quick flash of perfect teeth to keep the morale light, keep his sponsors happy. not the sinister smile he flaunts during matches either, fueled by bloodlust and pure adrenaline.

not even the cocky smile he puts on for the crowd when the match gets tough, the one that gets his opponents mad, gets the crowd hit and bothered.

this smile is soft, private. a small show of love in a sea of flashing cameras and prying eyes. this smile says “i love you, I do this for you.”

you reach for his face, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. toji wipes the blood—his— from your lips with a calloused thumb, pulling your head to his chest with a soft murmur.

“i love you.”

#adah’s asks #i love this ask so much #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji hcs #toji headcanons #mma fighter toji #mma fighter!toji #mma fighter! toji fushiguro #toji angst #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader angst

[xxsabitoxx]

Baby Me

Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff and nothing else.

A/N: too much is going on in the Gojo realm, both in the anime currently and the manga, so let’s take a minute to forget and ease the pain with some soft Toru~

Word count: 1.2k

His body is aching, every atom that makes up his being is begging for sleep. But that won’t stop Satoru from showering, not wanting to dirty your shared bed with his sweat. Or even worse, wake you up cause he smells of sweat and blood. So, Satoru drags his half-awake body through your shared apartment, stumbling into the bathroom unceremoniously and turning on the hot water. He was swaying on his feet by the time he got his ruined uniform off and into the hamper, eyes barely open as he stepped into the steam filled shower. 

Satoru wasn’t even sure how long he had stood under the current, blood and dirt running off of his body in rivets. It stuck out harshly against the white tiles of the shower floor, not that he could really care at that moment. He’d just feel bad if you had to clean it up in the morning. It wasn’t until someone’s presence entered the bathroom that Satoru snapped out of his daze just a bit. He would have noticed them sooner, but his guard was always down when it came to you. “Toru? Why didn’t you wake me up?” You mumble softly, shedding your clothing with the intention of getting in with him. 

“It’s nearly three in the morning, baby. You need your sleep.” Groggy and full of exhaustion, it made your heart ache a bit. “Nonsense, let me help you clean up.” Satoru smiled a bit, grimacing as even that proved to be a bit of a tiring task. “You’re too kind to me.” But you merely hushed him, stepping under the hot water and reaching for a loofa and his favourite soap. “I love you, Toru. There is no such thing as being too kind with you.” You dumped a generous amount of soap into the white loofa before sticking it under the water again. “Now let me wash you.” 

There were things far more intimate than sex, Satoru didn’t realize that until he started dating you. Moments like this, for example, where you so tenderly scrubbed his skin clean of every impurity he had. Standing naked together under the hot water, in the early hours of the morning, as if you were the only two people on earth. Satoru craved these moments just as much as he craved you. “None of this blood is your own.” You laughed softly, placing a kiss on his spine now it was clean. “I’d hope.” Was all he could muster, nearly falling asleep where he stood because your touch was so tender.

You laughed softly before placing another kiss, trailing them down his spine until you reached the base. Satoru shivered at the feeling, your hand holding his hip as you told him to turn around. He did as you asked, giving you a lazy smile as you began to scrub the front of his body with the loofa. “I’ll shampoo your hair next.” He simply nodded, eyes shutting as he let the hot water run down his back. You were careful as you moved, alternating pressure depending on what part of him you were scrubbing. You knew he was rather ticklish so you’d be more careful when scrubbing his abdomen. But you also knew he enjoyed the way the loofa felt on his sore arms when you scrubbed a little harder. 

Satoru could go on for hours about how he didn’t think he deserved this treatment. He couldn’t even begin to understand how he had gotten so lucky, fighting curses all night just to come home to his beautiful girlfriend would be enough. And yet, you pull yourself out of bed regardless of the hour and shower with him. You scrub his body until he is clean, wash his hair until his shoulders go slack from the feeling, dry him off with a fluffy towel and shower him in kisses. 

He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to get this lucky, but he thanked the stars every night for giving you to him. 

“You’re going to fall asleep while standing.” You set the loofa down, all finished after scrubbing his body clean. All Satoru did was hum in response, bending down to press his forehead into your shoulder. “Let me scrub your hair and then we can dry off and go to bed, my big, strong boy.” You teased as his arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tight. “Toru~ let me wash your hair and we’ll be done.” He only hugged you tighter, with a sigh, you reached around him the best you could to grab his shampoo bottle. Still, he didn’t let go. 

You squeezed some of the contents on top of his head, laughing as he whined about it being cold before you started to massage the contents in. You smiled a little harder when he moved his head from your shoulder to nuzzle into your neck instead. At his height, you couldn’t understand how the position was even comfortable. Still, you scrubbed until his hair was full of sudsy bubbles. “Time to rinse.” You cooed softly, as if he was a small child. Reluctantly, Satoru straightened. With eyes still closed, he leaned back and rinsed his head. 

You took that time to quickly wash yourself, thankful you had put your hair up before getting in with him. “M’kay bub, time to get out.” His eyes opened a bit for that, nose scrunching at the use of “bub”, you found it cute. Within seconds the water was turned off and the steam began to subside, both of you stepping into the lights Satoru now deemed to be “too bright”. You babied him, wrapping him in a warm towel while you used another to ruffle his hair dry. Satoru gave a half hearted attempt to wrap you in a towel as well, but the man had begun to sway on his feet yet again, eyes fully closed as you dragged him out of the bathroom. 

“C’mon, lover boy, let’s get you dressed.” You giggled, watching his nose scrunch again but his eyes didn’t open. Satoru moved past you, dropping the towel and flopping onto the mattress. His groan of relief nearly shook the whole apartment. “Alright, clothes are a morning problem.” You concluded for him, dropping your own towel to crawl into bed beside him. You barely adjusted on the mattress before Satoru was moving to wrap you in a tight bear hug. “Cuddle me.” was all he said before promptly passing out, leaving you a bit surprised when his infinity didn’t immediately push you away.

“Huh… that's new.” 

Then again, you weren’t used to Satoru falling asleep before you. Perhaps he had learned of a way to keep it off while he slept, or maybe he had figured out a way to have it encompass both of you. Regardless, you couldn’t be bothered to dwell on the matter. You were quickly remembering that it was past three in the morning, your exhaustion was creeping up on you quickly. Now that Satoru was home and safe in your bed, you could sleep much easier. You moved the best you could in his embrace, throwing your leg over his hip and resting a hand on his side before giving up on getting any more wiggle room. “Night, Toru~” you sigh, melting into his arms. 

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 5) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

-

As it happens, the sun does rise the next day. 

You wake up gummy-mouthed, brow furrowing before your eyes even open. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, diaphanous and left open from the night before. Warmer than usual. It draws you back into its arms for a brief moment, ensconced in its warmth, bathed in the fuzzy in-between of wake and sleep. 

Memories trickle in slowly at first. It comes piecemeal; your first thoughts, a shallow pool that ripples when you dip your hands in, memories of the day previous scattering until you wait for them to come back together. You open your eyes to the window opposite you again. When you blink, it doesn’t fade like a dream. Your lips purse unconsciously because the truth is that you can’t recall ever sleeping in a room with a window. Or in a bed as comfortable as the one you’re in.

An arm around your waist pulls you in tight.

Your stomach swoops when you register the body behind you, a bracket of warmth at your back. Your immediate instinct is to kick away, go flailing off the edge of the bed and frantically search for the nearest object to brandish at the man in your bed. Then a hand runs up from your belly to cup your breast and your thoughts fizzle out again. His hand closes around the flesh and holds there, slotting your nipple between two thick fingers. Even with the fabric of your shift separating his hand from your skin, the feeling is electrifying. 

He grumbles against the back of your head and the sound reverberates through you. A full body shudder. Mildly peeved that your neck breaks out in a sweat. The sound is familiar though, as is the way he chuffs in his sleep, a brief expelling of air that glides over the naked skin of your neck. 

Something about his touch makes it click. You remember the glimmer of his badge and the rattle of the belt around his waist. The memory of his touch is bone deep; you’ve known John Price for less than two days, but you’ve felt almost every part of him by now. 

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets, a big thigh slotted through yours, giving you a perch to sit on. The two of you completely intertwined. You don’t remember falling asleep wrapped around him; maybe the slightest cuddle before rolling away to the edge of the bed.

When the hand on your breast squeezes, you inhale sharply. Loud. It echoes in the small room, the only sound apart from Price’s slow, even breaths. Part of you aches to move his hand. Again, he touches you where no one’s touched you before. You count your blessings that the sound of your gasp hardly makes him stir, sure that if Price were to wake up now, he’d never let you live down the way your nipples bead at his touch. 

As if your traitorous body answers to you these days. Your skin heats and sweats without your approval, heart always at a gallop when the man now known as your husband lingers close to you or sets a hand on your waist. Maybe in time it’ll become easier to withstand his touch, but the thought of lingering in his house even a week longer puts you on edge. 

It feels more like a curse than a blessing when his hand slowly draws back down the length of your chest. Panic sets in the moment his hand twitches, worried that Price might have woken up, but he breathes the same. Even, deep. He’s touchy in his sleep, always looking for some part of you to hold. You relax for a moment when his hand lingers on your belly. The weight is almost comforting, in a sense. Tender.

Then, it dips farther down. 

“John—John—” you whisper frantically, voice far too thin to pierce through the veil of sleep still shrouding him, trying to push his hand back up to no avail. He grunts in his sleep, curling around you. 

The hand on your belly sinks between your legs. It bunches up your shift, dragging the fabric of your nightdress between your legs. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

He cups your sex roughly, a firm hold that doesn’t budge when you try to squirm away. You’ve felt those fingers on your backside and curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, but between your thighs his palm feels wide. A man’s hand. The texture of his calloused fingers is dulled through the fabric of your shift, but you swear you can feel its heat.

He rocks the palm of his hand into your sex, the heel rubbing up into the apex of your thighs, making your whimpers go feathery and frail. You nearly bite clean through your bottom lip trying to stave off the moan crawling up your throat. His fingers rub at your hole through the gusset of your underwear and shift, the tip pushing just barely inside. 

A fevered, aching hotness spreads in your belly when his fingers sink in just the slightest bit. You can feel how sopping wet the fabric is, where he uses your own slickness to push inside. 

John practically growls when you finally cave and press your hand over his, tilting his hand just enough to grind the heel of his palm against your pearl. The shame is almost unbearable, so desperate for pleasure that you’d use a man in his sleep to reach your end. Hardly your heaviest sin, but it sinks into you anyway, another feather on the scale. Still, you choke back a suffering gasp and press down harder into his hand.

Pleasure suffuses through you when he grinds his palm just right. First, utter relief, the tension draining from between your shoulder blades and dripping onto the bed under you. Then, burning hotter than before, chewing your lip to keep quiet, terrified that you might wake John. Terrified that he might not, might keep you hovering over the edge with your feet kicking out. 

You’ve played at touching yourself before, but never with a firm, steady hand. Never without the aftertaste of guilt. It whispers in the back of your mind even now, a thorny prick, but then it whispers something else. It’s not sinful if he’s your husband, mumbled deliciously into the whorl of your ear, in John’s voice somehow. A husband doesn’t ask forgiveness for spreading his wife’s thighs open. He takes what’s his. 

John ruts against your bottom, huffing into your neck when you bite off a wail and breathe out heavier instead. The heavy shaft between his legs that you’d gotten a glimpse of the night before presses into the curve of your backside to nearly the small of your back. Thicker, hard as it is; you can only imagine how it’d feel to have that inside of you, to have him lay you flat on your back and bury his length into you. 

His hand tightens over your mound, gripping harder than before. Two fingers nudging at your entrance break you. It sends you down the side of a waterfall, frantically trying to swim your way back before plummeting down into the frothy depths, directionless in the water until you surface. 

John spills inside his trousers against your back. You feel it when he grunts and jerks against your backside one last time. 

You lie there, basking in the aftermath while the sun warms up the room. It’ll be at least an hour before the heat truly sets in. For now, it’s a gentle warmth. John’s hand is a loose hold between your legs now, petting your sex softly in his sleep. You feel your guilt just on the periphery, waiting with bated breath for you to come back down to earth. 

You feel John shift behind you and then a kiss is pressed into the crown of your head. Every inch of your body stills. 

“Morning, darlin’,” your husband croons, the smile thick in his voice. “That was a nice way to start the day.”

You’ve felt embarrassment before. You’ve felt shame, humiliation, horror, terror, guilt, and a medley of other sentiments that are part and parcel of living at the behest of others. So it’s not embarrassment that leaves you lying frozen in bed while John climbs out of the other side of the bed, but perhaps its cousin. 

It weighs on you so heavily that you can hardly even bring yourself to twist your head towards him. 

“You were—” your voice is brittle-thin when you speak “—awake?” 

He divests his nightwear with ease, pulling out a new day’s pants and shirt from the chest of drawers and then rounding the bed to take a knee by your side and cup your cheek. Not the same hand, you think wildly, staring at him wide eyed, still lying on your side. Frozen there. Tempted to say something else until he leans forward to press a firm kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m an early riser,” he says, a warm smile spreading across his face. He’s got a lovely smile, you think in a daze. 

He leaves you alone in the room, whistling on his way down the stairs. They creak one-by-one under his weight. When you finally sit up in the bed, you can vaguely hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. A pot clanging against a counter before the sound of the screen door shutting behind him. He must’ve gone to the well to fetch water. 

It takes an age for you to find the strength to get up out of bed. There’s still a wet spot on the front of your shift that makes you blink when it brushes against your legs. Then heat up like a roast duck. You’re tempted to change into your daywear and maybe bury the shift somewhere out back where you never have to acknowledge it ever again, but when you look over at the chest of drawers, all you can think of is John dropping trou just a moment ago. 

Your stomach aches all over again.

You limp hot-cheeked down the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast. The smell of fresh brewed coffee wafts from down the hall. You take a peek out the front window before joining him. Still hesitant, embarrassed like you’ve been caught. And you have been, you know. Caught and reeled in. Dragged to a courthouse and married to a man who hasn’t yet called you anything other than darling and honey. You wonder if he even remembers your name—or, your supposed name. 

Beyond the dirt trampled horse pen, a thick blanket of wild grass sways gently in the morning breeze, dotted with white wildflowers. Hardly a cloud in the sky today. Bluer than the bluest sea. This early, the sun only glints in the eye, a spectral everywhereness about it. In the noontime, it’ll hover overhead and glare down balefully, a sweltering curse. 

In the kitchen, John pours coffee into two cups. Rich stuff, not the bitter sludge served on the train or the watery cocoa that your aunt used to make to carry you through the brutal east coast winter months. You get a whiff of chicory. 

It must amuse him to hear you hovering in the doorway before creeping tentatively into the kitchen because he looks up with a little smile. You keep shame as a periapt around your neck these days, it seems; it must jingle when you walk. 

“Good morning,” John says. 

“You know—I didn’t know you were awake,” you blurt out, fists clenched at your sides. 

His eyes twinkle. “I caught on to that when you froze like a mouse.” 

The comparison makes your lips twitch. “You should’ve told me that you were awake.” You don’t have any right to scold him. Even as the words come out of your mouth, you know how foolish they sound and what they say about you. Little harlot that chases her pleasure with her sleeping husband’s hand. 

“Told you?”

“It’s only polite.”

“Polite.” There’s a teasing note in his voice that ruffles your feathers.

“It’s only right.” 

“Well then. Want me to wake you up the right way next time?” he asks instead, leaning back against the countertop. 

You frown. “The right way?”

He holds out a hand, beckoning you to him. You go, but with a stumbling step, nearly tripping into him when you take his hand. Without the barrier of your shift, you can feel the calluses on his hand when your fingers run over his palm. A shiver races down your spine. He reels you into his chest and holds you in place with a hand on your low back, pulling you so close to him that you’re practically leaning against him, as tangled as you were upstairs in the bed. 

John lets go of your hand to tip your chin up. “Barely got my hand wet, darling. Next time, I’m gonna pull that little shift up around your waist…wake you up nice and easy with my mouth. Drown out that voice in your head giving you a million and one reasons to leave. Yes, I can—” he huffs a laugh when you squirm in his arms, held steadfast to his chest “—I can tell you’re not yet settled. Maybe itching to run even, take the next train out. Go back to your old ways. But I said I’d make it good, darling, and I will. You just wait for tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I’ll make it good enough to give you a reason to stay.”

Your mouth is dry when you rasp, “Your mouth?”

“Every morning,” he promises, sun-sweet. “I’ll make it so you don’t have a care in the world apart from when you’ll come next.”

Flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it. His words make your stomach pull in taut, leave you a threadbare, panting mess. Like a new language, spoken in stuttered breaks when you repeat it back in your head; the words somehow sutured together into a phrase that you know you’ve dreamt and forgotten. 

In the wispy daylight hours, it’s hard to see where the edges of you diverge from his. You’re still back in the bed upstairs with your legs tangled in his and his arms pulling you in close, the burr of his beard scratching the back of your neck. Touching the dark hair of his forearms, the groves of the muscles there, the softness of skin giving way to the hard musculature underneath. 

And then he dips his head for a morning kiss, his rough whiskers against your lips breaking the spell. 

“You haven’t brushed your teeth,” you complain, face puckered up at the stale taste of his mouth. When he smiles against your mouth, you can feel his beard drag up your skin the slightest bit. He draws back. 

“Well, guess I oughta wash up. Think you can start breakfast ‘till I get back?”

Cooking you can handle. You coat the pan with a lump of butter that melts over the iron. Two eggs cracked and sizzling in the butter. When he comes back, John cuts thick slices of bread that you heat in the pan with the eggs, the butter making the bread golden crisp. And it’s quiet. It’s quiet and there are birds twittering outside in the trees, chickadees and red-winged blackbirds. 

“Do you have any fruit?” you ask. More of a mumble. 

He hums. “Canned peaches in the pantry. Jam too.”

The pantry’s well stocked. Jams and jellies, cured and salted meats stored away in jars. Cornmeal and other grains. Pickled and canned vegetables. It’s the fruit you’re after though—the preserved peaches with the gingham fabric nestled under the sealed lid. Thick, juicy slices that come out of the jar coated in their own syrup that spreads out on the plate and touches the edge of your toast, softening the hard crust. 

You sit across from him to eat. Breakfast is a quiet affair interrupted only by your eyes flickering up to his face with each bite. Interrupted only by your skittering heartbeat. It’s hard not to be drawn to him, tempted to sneak a glance. Though dressed in his daywear, the edges of sleep still cling to him faintly, in the lines around his eyes and the folds of his forehead. You catch your eyes caressing those spots with a tenderness that makes your heart flare red for a moment, troubled. Like a red hot iron glowing at its hottest point. 

There’s no denying that you’d like to stay the course. Perhaps just out of curiosity. 

You’re ruled by your history though. Again, you look over at him, watching him silently and wondering what it must be like to live without that pressed upon you. To not be fixed like a violet between parchment paper. You’ll leave eventually, you know; when the moment presents itself. Even now, though he stares down at his plate, contemplating something that he doesn’t vocalize, you know that he’s aware of your every move. If you should so much as twitch, he’d know. 

A day or two won’t matter, you hope at least; there’s always a chance that your name might come across his desk, but there’s little chance at this moment that he’ll link it back to you, not thinking of you as his wife of another name that he refuses to say. It sits in his mouth like chaw. What you can’t wait out are the men surely following your scent, dogs with their noses to the dirt, sniffing you out. 

There will be a moment when his attention shifts. You just have to wait him out. 

The next train out, you think, scrapping butter onto your toast, picking at the crust with nervous fingers. You set a peach slice on top to make the perfect bite, bashfulness sinking back when you have to brush the crumbs from the corners of your mouth. Good etiquette finds you wanting here, sitting at the breakfast table in your thin shift with nipples pebbling in the cool air, crumbs all over your face. 

John reaches across to drag his thumb just under your bottom lip, wiping up a drop of syrup. “Messy girl.”

The hammer comes down on the iron again, liquid metal poured back into the crucible. Swallow with a dry mouth. You just have to wait him out. 

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price/reader #captain john price

[hoasvuon]

(10:02 PM)

seungcheol always looked forward to coming home after a long day. after all, what could be better than changing into his comfiest clothes, falling straight into bed, and cuddling with you to fall asleep?

since his work ended so late, by the time he'd get home, he'd be greeted with the usual sight of you already fast asleep in bed, clutching a camel plushie (it reminds me of you, cheolie! , you always said, smiling softly).

and no matter how hard he tried to keep you from stirring awake, he always seemed to know exactly when he even lifted the covers.

today, he had thought he was in the clear. he tiptoed into the room, his steps hushed in an attempt not to disturb your peaceful slumber. the dim light from the hallway spilled softly into the room, revealing the silhouette of your sleeping figure beneath the cozy blanket. carefully, he had untangled your hands from the tight grip they had on the camel plushie before slotting himself in that space. you had stirred a bit at the close proximity to another figure next to you but after pausing for a second, fell back into your usual slumber. slowly reaching across your waist, he attempted to pull you closer into him.

he quietly sighed in relief, thinking he had succeeded in his mission to slip into bed unnoticed.

however, a sleepy murmur escaped your lips as they blinked away the remnants of dreams, their eyes adjusting to the subtle glow of the room.

"cheolie?" you mumbled, voice drowsy yet filled with warmth. "Is that you?"

seungcheol winced, caught in the act. "yeah, it's me," he whispered, his fingers gently finding their way to intertwine with yours. "sorry, did i wake you up?"

a soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "no, just checking if my imagination was playing tricks on me. what time is it?"

he glanced at the clock on the nightstand, "a little past 1 am. i swear, i really tried to be quiet this time, but you're like a human radar for my presence."

you laughed softly, the sound twinkling in his ears. "you know I always notice when you come in late. how was your night?"

seungcheol sighed, the tension of the outside world melting away as he settled into the warmth of your shared space. "long. busy day. but being here makes it better."

you lifted your hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, before shifting over slightly to leave a soft kiss on his cheek, a silent reassurance that you were glad he was home. "i'm happy you're home baby. let's just go to sleep and get some rest. we can talk more in the morning, okay?"

he obliged, drawing you in with his arm wrapped around your hip, his fingers drawing figures absentmindedly along your side. the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound being your soft breaths, slowly rising and falling before syncing with his. in the stillness of the night, seungcheol couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments — the quiet exchanges, the warmth of your bed, and the simple pleasure of coming home to someone who made everything feel right.

as sleep gradually reclaimed you, seungcheol pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and murmured "goodnight baby." before letting sleep overtake him to his dreams to meet you again.

#svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt drabble #svt soft hours #seventeen fanfic #svt angst #seventeen soft hours #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fluff #seungcheol soft hours #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol smut #svt

[143hyunes]

when you help them shave

includes: ot8 x gn reader

genre: domestic fluff, crack(?), sfw

synopsis: you ask your bf if you can help him shave

warnings: implied established relationship, use of nicknames like baby; babe, lots of kissing, suggestive (lee know & seungmin), mention of blood in han's part, extreme **fluff**

wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: i saw a similar hc a while back, so i was hesitating whether i should upload this for the longest time (i've had this in the drafts since January 😭), my version is different from that one though, i can't believe i'm finally posting this. anyways i hope you like this <33 as always reblogs and feedback appreciated !!

CHAN

Days off with Chan were always eventful. Today was one such day and he was in a playful mood. The razor was in your right hand while you held onto his chin, in order to glide the razor easily across his jaw and cheeks. But Chan had other plans, you yelped out in surprise when he pulled your waist against his naked torso, the razor dropping from your hands, luckily the razor was not near his face and he didn’t get hurt. “Christopher! You could’ve seriously gotten hurt, please don’t do that again.”

“Yes ma’am!” He cheekily exclaimed, saluting you. When his hands went back to your waist again, you gave him a glare.

“What? Can’t I be close to my baby?” He said matter of factly. You sighed, you loved his cute antics, the way he was always seeking out your touch even when asleep, if he could he would never leave your side. “Okay, ok, I guess we can compromise.”

You led him out to your shared bedroom, setting the glass with water and shaving cream on the floor. When he sat down, he guided you to sit down on his lap. After you had settled on his lap, you started your handiwork on his face again. 

“All done.” You say grinning, satisfied with your work. “Finally.” He says before pulling you in for a kiss, the kiss is soft, tender and unhurried.

Both of you stop to take a breathe but don’t pull away from each other, almost sharing the same air. “I love you.” His sudden admission makes you blush. “Like I really, really love you.” He enunciated, nuzzling into your neck.

“Then will you make breakfast and do the dishes today?” He giggles.

“Anything for you baby.”

LEE KNOW

Your boyfriend’s insistence on not keeping a straight face was getting troublesome, you had been trying to shave his face for the past half an hour. He kept making goofy, semi scary expressions, you didn’t know how he could have so much control over his features. “Lee Minho, you’re really going to get hurt and ruin your shirt and it won’t be an accident.”

“I won’t hesitate to resort to violence.” You warn him again.

That seemed to make him stop but you should’ve known better, his hand had sneaked around you to get the bottle of the shaving foam. You dodged just in time but his attacks didn’t stop after his failed attempt. He finally managed to get the foam on your face. “You’re such a brat.” You scoffed.

You had to restrain him, that’s the only way you could get work done. Your left hand held both of his wrists behind his back while you used the right to shave his face, you tried to finish as quickly as possible because he could easily break free from your “constraints”. He played along though and was surprisingly cooperative. “Damn, babe I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff.”

“Shut up.” You knew you would not hear the end of it and soon his friends would also start teasing you. After you were done, you playfully, lightly slapped his right cheek. He sent you a skittish glare before caressing your neck and leaning in. You thought he would kiss you but he pulled away at the last moment. 

“Ugh,, you’re such a menace.”

“You know you love it.” You begrudgingly agree, giving his lips a chaste kiss.

CHANGBIN

“Bin, Bin!” You slowly shake his shoulders.”Don't fall asleep on me when I’m shaving your face.” You say while cupping his face, he leans into your touch giving your palm a soft kiss.

“Mhm hmm.” He hums.

You dutifully start shaving the side of his jaw again, when you clean the razor of the foam on it, you feel soft curly hair and hot breathe on your neck as he lays his head down on your shoulder.”Oh my baby is really tired, isn’t he?” You coo, your fingers massaging his scalp and he only lets out a cute grunt still laying on your shoulder. 

“Tell you what, if you let me finish shaving your face, I’ll make pancakes with chocolate chips for you.” That seems to wake him up and he obediently faces you. You laugh at his antics, the way to his heart was truly through food. 

You quickly shave the remaining hairs on his face and give him kisses all over his face. You watch as he snuggles back into the sheets, he looks so cute and endearing, you just want to bite him.

You make the pancake batter and add chocolate chips to it. You flip the last pancake and add it to the stack. Pouring his favourite apple juice into a glass, you take it and the plate of pancakes to him, you knock on the door to wake him up. He gives you a smile that you would kill for. 

His takes his first bite and smiles up at you again. “Really delicious, babe.” he says his mouthful of the pancake, he lifts his fork up for you to taste your creation. He always does this, sharing his food and feeding it to you too. 

After he’s done eating, he convinces you to take a nap with him. You can never resist him and the way his arms around you make you feel warm and safe. Slumber soon finds the both of you as you cuddle.

HYUNJIN

Hyunjin’s leaning against the wash basin, lowering his body so you can easily shave his face, he holds onto your waist for support. His hands are rubbing small circles on your waist and he’s humming along to one of your favourite songs that plays from the bluetooth speaker. Quiet nights like this where you have his undivided attention make you so giddy. 

Hyunjin always liked to hold intense eye contact, something that made you very shy at the start of you guys’ relationship, it still flusters you. His intense gaze on you right now was making your cheeks heat up, you’re always curious as to why he does that, so you decide to ask him right now.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you meekly ask him, the scrutiny of his gaze making you timid. 

“Nothing, you just look so cute while you’re concentrating on something.”

That makes you stop, your blush deepening at his confession. “But you always look at me like that.”

He seems to ponder over his next words, his lips and eyebrows quirking up, making him all the more endearing. A stray strand of hair falls into his face and you tuck it behind his ear, cupping his face. 

“It’s because I love you, I’m trying to commit your face to my memory, so you’re there even when I close my eyes.” He finally answers.

Sometimes you feel overwhelmed by the love he has for you, this feeling making you feel full, akin to having a meal with your loved ones where after your hunger is satiated due to the good food and the hearty conversations. 

Still cupping his face you lean in to kiss him, trying to convey your love and feelings you cannot describe through the kiss. And he understands, like he always does, both of you were so attuned to each other’s emotions and mannerisms like you were cut from the same clothe.

He breaks away from the kiss only to go back to kiss your forehead. It had become his 2nd favourite spot to kiss you, after you had let it slip one such night that you really liked forehead kisses because they made you feel loved and safe. 

HAN

Han had had a very eventful day today and you could tell from the way he was so excited to tell you all about it while you shaved his facial hair. He was a ball of energy even at the end of the day, his animated gestures making you smile.

He seemed to forget that you held a sharp razor in your hand and turned his head abruptly, you pulled your hand away but it was not soon enough.”Ow!” He yelped out in pain.

The razor had scratched his skin, making it bleed; fortunately the cut wasn’t too deep.

You remove the first aid kit from the bottom drawer, using the alcohol you clean his wound. It hurts your heart when he flinches from the sting of it, but you proceed to apply antiseptic cream to his wound, softly blowing on it, in hopes that it would hurt less.

You kiss the mole on his left cheek, you couldn’t resist it. He smiles, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful with the razor.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault babe, I should’ve been more attentive and not move around so much.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead.

“Let me kiss it better, unless it doesn’t hurt too much?” You grin cheekily.

He suddenly clutches the side of his face, acting like he’s in indescribable pain.”Oww, Y/N it hurts really bad, only my baby’s kisses can heal me now.”, he exclaims with a pout.

You giggle while kissing his soft lips, he leans into the kiss, holding your face.

Later you did each other’s skin care routine, you were of course careful of his wound, not wanting to hurt him. You spent the rest of the night watching anime cuddled up beside each other.

FELIX

Felix really liked being taken care of. The blush that creeped up his neck when you asked him if you could help him shave his face today, was indication enough. And you liked taking care of people. You were perfect for each other. 

The razor hovers just before his jaw while he looks at you with such a loving expression that it floors you. He looks so adorable even with his bed head, the sunlight streaming in through the bathroom windows, making his skin glow. The freckles on his face truly shining like constellations in the night sky. You were hit with a huge wave of love for him, you just couldn’t not kiss him, not when he looked at you like you had put up all the stars in the sky. So you did, feeling lucky to call him yours.

He smiled into your kiss, returning it with the same fervour.

“I love you, Lixie.” He only giggles, blush deepening. 

“Oh really? What a coincidence, because I love you too, baby.” His voice was deep and gravelly after the long hours of sleep and it was driving you crazy would be an understatement.

You only realise that you have shaving foam on your face when he wipes it off you, his movements delicate. You must have gotten it on you when you kissed him. 

After you were done, he made breakfast for the both of you, scrambled eggs for him and sunny side up for you. You loved how domestic all of this was and could imagine spending the rest of your days like this, basking in each other’s love. What you didn’t know was that Felix shared the same thoughts as you, already planning your future in his head.

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin was very apprehensive of the idea of you shaving his face, you were naturally clumsy and he was afraid you would abrade his skin.

“If I get hurt I’m suing you.”

“Kim Seungmin, do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

“No.” He says begrudgingly.

“Then you will listen to what I say.”

You gently drag the razor across his face while he stands as still as a statue. He really is afraid of you hurting him, so you decide to tease him. You flick the foam on his jaw and giggle when it lands on his hair. It looks like he has a cloud on his head, when your hand again goes to flick the foam, he grabs ahold of your wrists. “Why’re you such a brat today?”

“I just really like teasing you, Seung.” You say directly looking him in the eyes, his right hand holding onto your wrist, in between your faces. 

Releasing the grip on your hand, he leaned down, his hair touching yours and now you too, had a cloud on top of your head. “Now we’re even.”

“Hey! Not fair, you attacked when I was distracted!”

“You’re the one who started it.” He says while crossing his arms. He towered over you though it was not much, you caught him off guard when you tickled his sides. Soon enough, it turned into a tickle battle and both of you were out of breathe. 

You had no idea how it happened but he had somehow managed to cage you between his arms, your back against the glass wall of the shower. “You’re really such a brat.’ He says raising your chin with his pointer finger. “But it’s ok. I actually like it.” Before you know it, he’s leaning into kiss you. 

You don’t know how he could be so passionate with his kisses so early in the morning, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. 

“I like being a brat for you too.”

JEONGIN

It was a lazy day in and you were cuddling with your boyfriend, when you had the idea to shave his facial hair. “Can I shave your face?” You asked as you looked up at him from where you lay on his chest. He makes a distinct sound of agreement to your question.

“Okay, let’s go.” You say pulling at his hand.

“Now? But I’m so comfortable.” He says pouting.

“What can I do to convince you?” You say nudging his side.

“Can we pleasee have Mc Donald’s for breakfast?” He asks, flashing his signature charming, dimpled smile.

“Hmm, it’s not healthy, you know that baby.”

“But-I’m also craving a hash brown. Oh what the hell, you only live once.” You say giving in.

He gives your cheek a kiss when you agree to his peculiar request.

Both of you decided to place the order after you were done shaving, since the food arrives fast. 

Jeongin was really compliant and before you knew it you were done, it was going surprisingly smoothly. He must have really wanted to eat his favourite shrimp burger.

You, however, soon realised that you had spoken too soon, as your boyfriend’s hand collided with dirty soap water and it almost spilled on you. Luckily for you his reflexes were strong and he caught the glass before it could spill on you.

“You’re such a klutz, babe.” You tch, teasing him.

“That’s not how you treat your saviour.” He haughtily replies, a lilt in his voice.

“You’re also the one who put me in harm’s way.”

“Okay, fair enough. Can we please order Mc Donald’s now?”

You go to the bedroom to find your phone and place the order. When food finally arrives, the smile on Jeongin’s face is so big that it makes you smile too. Lazy days would always be the best as long as your boyfriend was with you.

#skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz crack #straykids #stray kids #skz x y/n #skz x you #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #straykids fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #bang chan fluff #lee know fluff #seo changbin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #han jisung fluff #lee felix fluff #kim seungmin fluff #yang jeongin fluff