#I’ve had these sitting for a while and thought I’d share them

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissing, a little tinsy bit angsty, flirtatious banter.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10

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“Why’re you putting these up anyway?” You say standing at the bottom of the ladder that John is currently stood on, installing cameras he purchased for outside your home.

“Cause i’ll have to return to work this weekend and i’d like to make sure you’re safe.” you smile to yourself at his protective nature.

“I’ve lived here for ages and nothing has ever happened.” you reassure him as he descends the ladder.

“It’s for my peace of mind.” he says quietly between the two of you in the spring air.

“Okay.” you reply as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Onto the next corner.” he says gathering the ladder, walking to the other side of the house as his tool belt clings and clangs.

—------------

“Anything you can tell me about this next mission you’re going on?” you ask as the both of you lay on the couch.

“I leave on Sunday and don't know when I'll return, that's all.” He tries to make his deep gruff voice soft it’s a cute attempt. He knew this was going to be the hard part for both of you. You want him to stay and he doesn’t want to go but duty calls.

“Mmm.” you breathe into his chest, trying to inhale him, commit his scent to memory sure it’ll linger but this is straight from the source.

“I'll call you when I can.”

“I thought you weren't allowed to bring a personal phone, that’s what Gaz told me.” you rest your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Gaz isn’t the captain.” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Ah abuse of power is it.” You quip. 

“If that’s what it takes to reach you.” You look away not being able to contain your blush after that as if he couldn’t feel your heartbeat quicken.

He lifts your chin back up, leaning down almost straining his neck for a kiss. Of course this kiss turns into more, you move further up the couch straddling his waist you’re hungry for him, for his kisses, groans, deep inhales of air, all of it. He’s flipped the two of you over pinning you beneath him with almost half his weight.

“John, why’re you teasing me?” You whimper.

“Not teasing, takin ma time.” 

He kisses down your throat, over your pulse to your collarbone ridding you of your shirt tossing it somewhere to be picked up later. This has been a common occurrence recently thing is he won’t fuck you. No, he will do everything else and give you absolutely anything you want except well what you want. 

“John.” You say as he starts to take your pants off.

“Yeah doll?” He slows the movement of his fingers and simply rests them on your hips.

“Why- why won’t you- you know fuck me?” So you did notice.

“Well because I- I actually-“ he’s a stuttering mess for the first time since you’ve met. 

“Do you not want to?” You begin as you sit up.

“Of course I do, believe me, but I want to savor you in every single way I can, you're irresistible as you are if I have you the way I want it’s all I’ll think about whilst also trying to not get killed.” He admits while comfortingly rubbing your thigh.

“Oh, that’s actually quite hot.” You feel a little bad, I mean who are you to demand something that’s literally a part of him.

“When I’m back I promise I'll give you my cock like you so desperately want.” Well damn.

——————

“Do you guys share a room wherever these missions are?” You ask as he dices up tomatoes for your antipasto Salad. 

“Em there’s rarely time for sleep but sometimes depending where we are we do and other times we don’t. Most times there aren’t even rooms there’s tents or simply no sleep.” He answers before tossing them into the large bowl beside his cutting board as you hum in understanding.

You didn’t know he knew had to cook, well sort of. He can grill, but that’s something that you cannot. So recently he’s been showing you how to smoke and grill different meats, today is what he said was the best of them all and longest cooking time, brisket. 

“Do they snore?” You ask as he laughs at your random questions.

“Yeah actually soap snores like a fucking pig, it’s horrible.” Now it’s your turn to laugh as he nods towards the door for you to follow him outside so he can check on the meat.

“Do I snore?” you ask sheepishly. He smiles looking over his shoulder at you, your arms crossed across your chest to make up for your lack of a sweater. When he sees you this way, so comfortable and raw, hair in your face and pajamas at 6PM, it’s everything and more. 

“You do.” your eyes go wide.

“No, do I really?” you seem so genuinely concerned.

“Doll everynight i've got to spend beside you has been the deepest and best sleep of my life, if you snore I've got no idea.” 

“Thank goodness.” You sigh out as he approaches you.

“Ready to eat?” He asks brushing hair from your face. 

“Yes.” 

Dinner is more talking than eating on your behalf, you want to soak up every second with him that you can. He listens intently wishing his brain was a recording machine so he could play it back when he needed to feel sane. 

“God John that was so good.” You say half an hour after he’s already finished his meal which was also his third serving. 

“I’m glad, you always cook. I'm happy to be able to provide you with this one thing.” 

“You’ve provided me with much more than this one thing.” You say with a soft smile, it’s so sweet it nearly knocks him breathless.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You admit.

“I know, doll.” He reaches across the table for your hand holding it firmly but not tightly as he looks away.

“But I know you have too.” His eyes return to yours.

“How will I spend my days without thee John Price? What will I do?” You say it over dramatically.

“Nothing too risky I hope.” He replies, eyes crinkling at the corner.

“Maybe I’ll skydive.” You tease.

“Please don’t.” 

“Can’t promise.” You joke.

“You’re going to give me more gray hairs.” He said showing you the few already on his head.

“That’s exactly what I want, I love the grays.” And he loves you, but he can’t bring himself to admit it although it isn’t even something he can try to rid himself of at this point it has consumed him whole, sprouting colorful and beautiful things inside him.

“Movie time my darling up we go.” He says as he stands motioning for you to do also. 

This is something that has become ritual, dinner then movie. It’s the perfect unwinding time although sometimes most times it turns into more.

“You pick?” You say as you hand him the remote, getting comfortable at his side tucking your head beneath his big arm. 

“You’ll fall asleep half way through this.” He looks down at your already drooping eyes.

“No I won’t.” 

“You will.” He plays a show you two had begun the other week as he settles in more comfortably moving one of your legs to rest across him. 

He’s laughing unaware of just about everything as his whole body shakes, that’s until he notices you’re not and to his not so own surprise you’re passed out cold. 

——————

When you wake it’s sometime deep into the night. The tv shows its rest screen and John is sleeping. Unfortunately after a weak attempt at falling asleep you’ve decided you're no longer tired so you just lay there, hand beneath John’s shirt rising and falling with every breath he takes. The only noise to be heard is his heartbeat and the clock ticking. 

You begin to overthink the more time passes, you’ll be alone in just two days. The comfort and protection John brings you will be miles away. This warmth that fulfills your soul won’t be in your home any longer. It scares you, how much you want him around how much you love him. You wonder if this is as hard for him as it is for you or if it’s something he’s gotten used to. 

It’s overbearing, too much. You untangle yourself from him, sliding your leg over his body and onto the floor, stepping as lightly as you can onto solid ground.

You tiptoe to the kitchen and open the fridge for water. You lean against the counter before taking a sip out of the bottle breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. You’re zoned out completely so much that you don’t notice John come into the kitchen till he’s placing his hands on your hips. 

“You scared me.” You jump slightly as he offers you a sleepy smile. 

“What’re you doing awake?” 

“Can’t sleep.” You say not meeting his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He asks. 

“thought you’d need as much good sleep as possible.” You say quietly, leaning your head on his chest.

“That’s not as important as you.” He rubs a firm hand onto your back pulling you close. He holds you like this for what seems like eternity and you relish in it.

“I’m going to paint for a little, please go lay back down.” He looks exhausted as you finally bring your eyes to him. 

“Come paint in my room.” He is tired but he’d rather be sleep deprived than have you anywhere but next to him. 

“What? You’re crazy, all my stuff is in the sun room.” You say with a small laugh.

“Then I’ll move it, I can’t sleep when you’re more than 5 feet away from me.” 

“Okay.” You know he won’t give up so you’ve learned to give in.

You simply watch as he picks up the heavy canvas and its easel hauling it across the house as you grab your brushes and paints and follow. 

He sets it dangerously close to his side of the bed, he even moves the nightstand over to the corner to ensure you have enough room. 

“Perfect.” He says after pulling his desk chair out of his office and over to it.

“Yeah actually it kinda is.” You smile. 

“Well, have at it.” He says giving you a firm kiss then walking over to the bed and getting comfortable. You sit in his very big but very comfortable desk chair and begin to mix colors in the small pallet that rests on your thigh.

“Goodnight.” He says pulling the chair towards him with an outstretched arm for one more kiss which you happily give. 

“Night.” 

—————

Released an hour early as a little surprise

It’s my best lol it’ll get better just getting back into my groove:)

As always love ya!!!

————-

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving

#captain price x female reader #angst #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #task force 141 #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #and they were roomates series #john price x y/n #Barry Sloan

[felinefractious]

Speaking of hairlessness the previous ask reminded me to ask. Does it cause any health issues in cats besides being cold/lots of yeast infections? In rabbits the symptoms of it range from mild to very severe depending on which gene is causing it (specifically there’s one gene that usually results in kits only surviving to up to a few months.) Was curious how’d they compare!

This is probably among my most controversial breed takes but… no, I don’t consider Sphynx to be particularly ethical.

I wouldn’t say they’re on the same level as “can’t fucking breathe” Exotics or “every moment is pain” Folds and obviously not anywhere near as bad as what you’re describing in hairless rabbits… but it’s (personally) still a hard no from me.

I wouldn’t consider yeast infections a minor or benign issue. Yeast infections suck, anyone who’s had one can tell you that. They’re itchy and uncomfortable and all around unpleasant.

A Domestic Shorthair comes in with a yeast infection and it’s a problem that you treat, a Sphynx comes in with a yeast infection and it’s a breed trait that yes you try to treat but understand it’s a uphill battle that’s not likely to completely resolve for an extended period of time.

Overproduction of yeast and hairlessness in cats go hand in hand.

Cutaneous carriage of Malassezia species in healthy and seborrhoeic Sphynx cats and a comparison to carriage in Devon Rex cats

Malassezia pachydermatis and M nana predominate amongst the cutaneous mycobiota of Sphynx cats

Without a hair coat the natural oils produced by the skin just sit there, which is why Sphynx cats require frequent bathing and wiping down. Skin issues are a practically a feature of the breed, no amount of bathing or wiping can replace the function of a natural hair coat.

Video of an 8 week old Sphynx being groomed.

The same thing goes for the ears and nail beds, they require very frequent cleaning but you’ll never be able to keep them as clean as a coated cat. The fur is there for a reason, it works 24/7 while manual cleaning is only present periodically.

They’re also more prone to ocular issues like corneal sequestrum and entropion, I would think this is related to the lack of eyelashes and eyebrow whiskers which serve to protect the eye from debris (similar to our own eyelashes) and alert the cat when something is near their eye and they should close it to avoid a jab.

Prevalence and characteristics of ocular diseases in Sphynx cats: A retrospective assessment (2012–2021) and comparison with non-Sphynx cats

This all tracks with my lived experience with Sphynx cats. This is a very popular breed where I live and we see them frequently. We see repeat, long-term Sphynx owners and we see new Sphynx owners.

I used to be fine with Sphynx cats, I thought they were just another breed with higher grooming requirements - not a big deal, many longhair breeds also have increased grooming needs! But working with them gradually shifted that opinion, and then I began to see these issues where I’d missed them before… how even breeding cats shared by their cattery often have black, dirty nails or how well-known Sphynx owners discuss dermatitis as just part of the breed you treat as needed.

I realized these issues are the rule and not the exception - and it sucks, because pretty much every Sphynx I’ve met has such a good personality. They’re awesome lil’ guys!

Anyways, these are just issues related to their lack of hair - it isn’t touching on other concerns like the insanely high prevalence of HCM in the breed.

#rot dogz #asks #cat breeds

[ladytauria]

**KNOCKS THE DOOR DOWN**

27!!!! For the WIP game thingy

hehehe

(jaytim) empty promises p. 2

a sequel to this prompt! (inspired by you, lmao; the sad animal pics won me over xD)

which, to summarize, tim & jason have a big fight… and before it’s resolved, jason gets called to do a job with roy. it’s going to be a sort of 3+1 fic, focusing on 3 phone calls they share before jason comes home. the first two calls are written and now i’m stumped lmao

there’s… a lot i’d like to share; i’m pretty proud of what i’ve got but, um… have a snippet from phone call #2

Tim tries to ignore the way his heart softens. “How’s progress?” he asks instead. The words are sour in his mouth. Work is… easier. He wishes it wasn’t. But he doesn’t know how to talk to Jason with this thing between them—and he doesn’t want to talk about it like this. Over the phone, with hundreds of miles separating them.

Jason hums. “In a minute,” he says. “Have you eaten yet today?”

“Not recently,” Tim says. He had a granola bar like, an hour ago. And he’s been munching on trail mix while he plays. So, not entirely the truth, but he wants to know where Jason is going with this.

“I was thinking, ah. Maybe we could eat together?” Jason offers, hesitantly. “I was just about to dive into some leftovers, and I thought… maybe…” He trails off, and then laughs, self-deprecatingly. “S’kinda stupid, I guess.”

“No,” Tim says, immediately. “No, it’s— That sounds nice, actually. Do… Did you want to switch to video?” He has some leftover takeout he didn’t finish last night. He’d ordered their usual on automatic, and, well. He could eat a lot, but not quite that much.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Tim warms up his food before settling at the dinner table. Through the tinny phone speaker, he can hear Jason doing the same, and it warms him, despite himself. When Jason is ready, they hang up. Tim props his phone up, accepting the video call request from Jason.

The screen is heavily pixelated at first, but soon, the graininess clears away to show Jason. Tim can’t make out any details about the room he’s in; not on such a tiny screen. But he can see the man himself—looking tired, a little worn, but… He’s smiling, too. There’s a nervous edge to it, but. It’s sincere.

He finds himself smiling back, wondering if he looks as tired and lonely as he feels. “Hey,” he says, more softly than he means.

“Hey,” Jason repeats, his tone the same.

For a minute they just sit there and look at each other.

Then Jason swallows, and says, “You—uh. You asked about the job?”

He almost takes it back—asks Jason how he’s been sleeping, instead; if he reaches for Tim in his sleep the same way Tim has been reaching for Jason. He almost tells him to forget the job, forget the argument. Just come home.

Almost.

“Yeah,” he says. “I did.”

[ wip ask game ]

#i think this one is short enough not to do a readmore lmao #krizariel #asks and answers #wip ask game #jaytim #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic

[lemonadeinfuser]

Holiday House: Chapter 2, Dinosaurs

1.2k words

"For a moment, I was heavenstruck"

The sky was dimming slowly, a light shade of pink as you pulled your Beetle into the driveway of Aaron Hotchner’s impressive house. It was simple and sleek, like you imagined him to be- chalk splayed out on the front sidewalk, with an overgrown flower bed lining the front door. You smiled to yourself, noting absentmindedly that if you got the job that was something you could easily trim up.

You smoothed your hair down, glancing at your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your outfit was simple, but in no means casual- you had decided to forgo your normal t-shirt and jeans combo for a simple black pencil skirt, with a long sleeved top to match and a slicked-back high ponytail. You had finished the outfit with your own personal flare, in the form of tiny black dinosaur earrings that you planned to show Jack, in hopes that he would like you more. Adrenaline pumped through your body as you approached the front door. You weren’t quite sure which was more nerve-wracking- a job interview, or the fact that it was for the son of an FBI agent. You notice your hands start to shake slightly, taking a final breath before going to knock on the door.

On the other side of the door, Aaron checks himself out quickly in the glass of the door. He was still in his work outfit, just minus the tie and suit jacket, his shirt unbuttoned slightly. He clears his throat as he opens the door, and smiles at you standing there, looking- absolutely beautiful.” Aaron silently curses himself for that thought, reaching out a hand in your direction. “Good to see you, __. I’m Aaron Hotchner.” You flush slightly as you take him in- muscled figure, l a r g e hands, all business but still smiling at you as you reach out to shake hands with him. “T-thank you for having me, Mr Hotchner, it’s an honor.” “I’ve heard a lot about you from Penelope.” Aaron remarks, as he indicates for you to come in. You laugh slightly, walking inside and glancing around as he shuts the door behind you. “I’ve heard pretty much Penelope knows- which is a lot, but mostly stuff she’s deduced over the years.. I hear you’re not much of a talker.” Fuck, why did you say that?

Thankfully, a smile tugs at the corners of Aaron’s lips. “I just like to keep my personal life and my work as separate as possible.” He walks towards the kitchen table, pulling a chair out for you like the gentleman he is. You thank him, sitting down opposite him on the wooden chair. “So, __, tell me about yourself. I would like to know more about you, before we get to the formalities.” “Well.. I’m 29, about to be 30, I have a bachelor’s in child development but I’ve been working odd jobs while looking for something more permanent. I’m originally from the West Coast, I have an older sister but my parents are, uhm, gone, and I love being creative with my hands as well as music.” Your voice trails off slightly, but Aaron just nods, intently listening to you and scribbling down something on a notepad in front of him. Your eyes drift down to it, not able to make out anything but the FBI emblem at the very top, which made you flush as you realized just how important this man was.

“Thank you, and I appreciate you sharing that with me. It must’ve been difficult losing your parents so young.” Aaron meets your gaze, eyes soft as he scans your face, memorizing the peaks and valleys of your cheekbones, the curve of your slight dimples as your lips curled into a grateful smile. “It was. But, enough about me. I’d love to hear about you, and about this job, if that’s okay?”

As Aaron explains his position to you- how much his job requires him to be away, how Jack had been acting out recently and he knew it was because he needed one on one attention, that Jessica deserved to live her own life with her own family, and how losing Haley had been difficult for both of them. Your heart swelled with sorrow and emotion for this poor family, and for Hotch, dealing with being a single dad alongside the difficulty of his profession. You watched his gaze harden as he talked about losing Haley, but soften once again when mentioning Jack. “So, I basically would need someone to live-in, because I feel it’s time that Jessica gets a life of her own. I’m not gone all the time, but my hours are inconsistent, so it would be a full-time position. All costs would be covered- I’m more than happy to give you my card when I’m away, for groceries, outings, what have-you. I trust Garcia, so I believe I can also trust you.” A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you nod, shifting slightly in your chair as you study his face. “I’m fully prepared to move in, sir, whenever you need, as soon as possible.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but as he does, the pattering of small feet comes down the hall into the kitchen, stopping right below you as you glance down and see Jack gazing up at you, brown eyes blinking in surprise. He was tall for his age, probably taking after his dad- with a sweet smile and freckles dotting his cheeks. Aaron chuckles, lifting Jack onto his lap and gesturing towards you. “Jack, this is Y/N, the nice friend I told you about. Can you say hi?” Jack waves eagerly, studying you with wide eyes and looking at his father. “Is she your friend, Daddy, or mine?” Aaron smiles slightly, smoothing down Jack’s messy brown hair that looked strikingly similar to his own. “Both. But, she’s mostly here for you.” Jack nods, studying you once again and reaching out towards your ears. “Dinosaurs!” You laugh, nodding and taking one off and placing it in his hand. “I thought you might like those. See, it’s a T-rex!” Jack jumps off his father’s lap, grabbing your hand and tugging you. “Come see my dinosaurs!” You glance at Aaron, looking for approval, and he nods,“Go ahead.” You follow Jack into his room, adorned with dinosaurs galore, gasping dramatically as Jack starts play fighting you with a brontosaurus.

Hotch watches the way you talk with Jack, as you follow him down the hall, your face bright and engaged, with a sweet smile on your face, and there are so many thoughts running through his head. How amazing would it be to come home to your smiling face every day? Taking care of Jack, of course. And that sweet, floral vanilla scent you carried would be permanent.. But you were here for Jack, of course. And that clear, strong sweet voice, ever present,drifting from those beautiful lips.. Aaron clears his throat, standing up and steadying his mind and body as he grabs the folder of paperwork from the kitchen counter, laying it out on the table in front of your chair with a pen. He had already made up his mind- it didn’t take long to know that it was the right thing to do- for Jack, of course. ;)

"For a moment, I had cosmic love"

A/N: AHHH it's here! enjoy my lovelies!! comments and suggestions always open!!

#criminal minds #bau team #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #criminal minds hotch #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds incorrect #derek morgan #criminal minds fic #aaron x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #i love you aaron hotchner #emwrites #matthew gray gubler #thomas gibson #fanfic #jack hotchner #haley hotchner #elle criminal minds

[blowflyfag]

Hi these are my Kane headcannons I wrote a bit a while back. My history of Kane is a bit different than the cannon stuff since the cannon stuff is kinda cringe fail. Also. Only gonna talk about masked Kane. But! Reality is mine to do what I want so here’s my Kane headcannons. I’m more than happy to go in depth on more stuff! Or explain why I think this.

Kane Headcannons

He wore masks even as a kid, it’s a sensory thing.

He grew up in a single parent house, it was both the funeral home and their home, with a mourge in the basement. They lived in a very small town in Death Valley, but they what they lacked in people the area made up with supernatural occurrences

I think he can see ghosts, with how connected his family was the supernatural it’s only natural he can see ghosts.

Kane liked dancing around with his mom as a little Kid. She often would play stuff on the radio while she worked or while cooking or when even just sitting around. Kane liked these moments… standing near her and swaying and humming along.

Kane keeps his hair long cause it reminds him of his mother, he does a lot of things because they remind him of her. He keeps his hair long, looks to deep into his undamaged eye. He listens to music she liked. He just wants to feel close to her. He’s a fuckin Mama’s boy

Kane is mostly burned and scared on his right side, it’s more prominent on his right arm and neck. His right eye is damaged from the fire.

Freckles!!! Kane has a lot of freckles when he gets in the sun. They’re a bit faint since he covers up but if he does loose some of the covering his freckles will really pop out

Bros Autistic guys.

Kane is mostly non verbal. He’d rather communicate with his body language or sign his thoughts. He only speaks if he really must.

He has such a soft spot for animals and kids it’s insane.

When he was younger him and taker found a clutch of snake eggs under their porch. Their mother No whwre in sight so they begged and pleaded for their mom to let them take care of them.

It ended up being a trip to the vets to make sure the eggs were properly taken care of. And a few weeks later their first pet.

It was a corn snake Kane and Taker named Amber.

Amber stayed in Taker's room. Though Mom would let them take Amber out so she could slither around in the living room while they watched movies.

Speaking of Taker’s room. It’s decked out with zombie movie posters. As well as other posters for horor movies and rock/metal bands. There’s Aldo a purple lava lamp. The typical angsty older brother room

Tumbleweed forts! He would beg Taker to play outside with him so the two would make forts and sit in them. Pretending to be bandits hiding out from the law.

He has a fascination with fire. Even though it is the thing that burned him, scared him, traumatized him beyond belief. The sight of someone lighting a cigarette near him brings his eyes instantly to the flame. Watching it flicker and wave with light and warmth. A controllable flame is a huge comfort.

I’d say Kane is Bisexual with a male lean. He’s very inexperienced when it comes to love. Often he finds himself confused with why his heart beats faster around someone he likes. Tilting his head to the side as he watches from afar. The most romance he knows of is watching late night black and white movies from when he was kept hidden in the basement.

A lot of what he knows is from television actually. Most of the time in the cellar hed just watch tv and learn, infomercials, animal documentaries, old cowboy movies. all “boring to most kids” but to kane it was an escape.

At first Kane fucking despised Taker so much with Paul Bearer’s manipulation. (For my reality Paul Bearer is the one who caused the fire) for years his anger festered and bubbled beneath his skin. Originally Taker went missing before the fire. And Kane learning that he became a wrestler, (not knowing Taker was under Paul Bearer’s control) was even more livid at him, for leaving his mother behind, for leaving him behind, for leaving everything behind. He truly hated Taker in those days, of course he’s come around but he struggles sometimes…

Kane has meltdowns very easily, it doesn’t take a lot to set him off. That’s what happens when he curls up and rocks. He’s trying to calm himself down the only way he knows how.

He really likes big cats, tigers, panthers, leopards. He thinks they’re the coolest animals.

So the Katie Vick stuff doesn’t happen in my reality, however Katie Vick is a real person, she was Kane’s childhood friend growing up. They were both kinda weirdo outcasts so they stuck together. They would mess around with ouija boards and try to find supernatural stuff that they shouldn’t have been messing with.

#Kane #wwf #world wrestling federation #eris headcanons #? #idk #I’ve had these sitting for a while and thought I’d share them #I might add more? idk. #I’m writing a bigger story about Kane’s childhood and stuff…

[foldingfittedsheets]

Buckle up for another unhinged story time. Now, as I’ve said before, I used to work at a sex shop. At one point I had three roommates and we all worked the same dildo slinging retail job and lived together. It was extremely sitcom.

Now, as you’d imagine, living with three other people who also talked about sex toys all day created a microcosm of people who were all extremely comfortable around sex toys and related topics. No one left dirty toys laying around but seeing things left in showers or showing off a new purchase was just a Tuesday.

After some life upheavals I ended up living with one of those roommates again, just me and her. For the sake of this story let’s call her Betty. Betty and I shared a two bedroom, and the layout was all the common spaces were an open floor plan and then one hallway formed a T, with my room and bathroom to the left and Betty’s to the right.

Well, one day my cousin calls me up. He’s coming to town for a visit and I offer to put up him, his wife, and their more… sheltered friend. (Unbeknownst to me there was a full Briefing for this girl before she met me so that I didn’t overwhelm her with my blasé attitudes towards- well, most things).

They drove in from two states over and it was a long drive. I had to work and couldn’t greet them or spend the first day together. So I told them to come grab my key so they could all shower off and settle in before me.

I arrived home later that night and found the atmosphere a little awkward at first. Things quickly warmed up and I charmed their friend, impressing my cousin with my immaculate respect for personal comfort levels. We had a lovely evening. By the time we all said goodnight I’d dismissed the initial tension as being tired after a long drive.

The next day we all decided to go to the zoo. I’m a morning shower person, but I let them go first while I made breakfast. After breakfast it was my turn and I hopped in the shower.

Midway through my eyes fixed on it. A little pink sex toy, sitting brazenly on the rim of the tub. Oh no, I thought. This was why things had been awkward yesterday! I left out a personal object because I’d literally forgotten to ever put them away by that point.

What I felt wasn’t embarrassment per se, because that emotion had been utterly eradicated by that point. Rather it was a deep shame that I’d leave out something that might make a guest feel uncomfortable. They told me their friend was sheltered and I had left out a sex toy, it was the epitome of rudeness!

I rejoined everyone and said, “I am so sorry! I didn’t realize I’d left that in the shower, that was so rude of me!”

My guests all exchanged a Look. I looked from my cousin to his wife, she glanced toward their friend, and their friend looked at my cousin. No one would look at me.

“Well…” my cousin finally said, “you didn’t tell us which room was yours yesterday.”

I blinked in confusion, Betty’s room and bathroom were basically just like mine.

“When we got here,” his wife continued, “we went to the other side first. In Betty’s bathroom.”

Reader, Betty’s bathroom.

Had been absolutely covered in dildos. Sex toys of all shapes and sizes covered every flat surface, the tub rim, the sink, the shelves. Wall to wall sex toys. Apparently Betty was doing a spring cleaning and had left her entire extensive collection out to air dry.

These three weary travelers had opened a door to the dildo dimension and had no idea how to react. To this day I have no idea what context clues they used to figure out Betty’s room from mine.

But when I’d come home they were lost in the sex toy shell shock, presumably wondering how they could ever talk about it with someone who felt it was okay to leave out every sex toy they own when expecting company in some kind of bizarre power play.

By the time they finished telling me about this we were all laughing so hard we were in tears.

“When we saw your bathroom with one little pink toy it was so discreet we didn’t even care!” They told me.

After my cousin and his crew had gone on their way I finally told Betty the whole story. She listened with eyes growing wider and wider and finally burst out, “That’s why they were so weird when I got home!!”

#ramblies #funny #story #writing #nsft #ffs foibles

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.

i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴

we made up.

LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration

in which you can never just bite your tongue

eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3

songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink

2.6k words

you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.

after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.

maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?

it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.

you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.

“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.

“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.

it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.

“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.

“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.

“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.

there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.

-

turns out, you have to apologise.

you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.

so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.

but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.

“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.

“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.

“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.

“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.

“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.

the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.

you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.

“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.

“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.

your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.

“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.

“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.

“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.

truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.

as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.

“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.

“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.

“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.

“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.

“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.

an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.

“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.

his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.

once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.

“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.

“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.

“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.

“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”

“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.

he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.

“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.

lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.

“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.

“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.

“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”

with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.

“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.

sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.

“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.

“learned your lesson?”

“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.

you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.

still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.

“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.

“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.

you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.

“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.

you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.

“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.

“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.

he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.

“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”

you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.

“‘m so close.” you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.

“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.

those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.

“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.

you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.

you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.

-

two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.

when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.

“we made up.”

-

oof

-

taglist

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if you wanna be added or removed lemme know! :D

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton fics #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 fics #f1 driver x you #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton imagine #formula 1 smut #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fics #jas’s 4k celebration #writing things #request #smut #enemies to lovers

[eupheme]

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.  

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin. Flexing up and into you, letting you feel the hard ridge of him.

“This what you want, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles. 

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

#please mind the tags! #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

[jgracie]

HOW YOU GET THE CURL

masterlist | rules

❝ idk if you’d do percy but with curly blonde hair (like pjo series ver perce) but if you do, i’d love a fic where he teaches y/n how to maintain curly hair (she doesn’t have curly hair) cause he loves the idea of her taking care of him ❞ — anon

in which percy teaches you how to take care of curly hair

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . romeo & juliet (peter mcpoland), san fransisco (be sure to wear some flowers in your hair) (scott mckenzie), sunflower, vol 6 (harry styles), slow dancing (aly & aj), our house (crosby, stills, nash & young)

an can someone pls tell me the titles sooo smart and funny 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

“Honey, I’m home!” As soon as you heard Percy yell those words from your front door, you left the comfort of the couch and ran into his arms. He immediately put his bags down and picked you up, twirling you around before peppering kisses all over your face.

Life in New Rome couldn’t be any better. After the two of you got into the same university, your parents bought you an apartment to share so you wouldn’t have to be separated in university dorms, knowing all too well how you were attached at the hip. You had cried at the gesture, and Percy held you in his arms as he, too, held back tears.

A wide grin on his face, he asked, “how’s my favourite girl?” As he unpacked everything he’d bought that day, you gave him a rundown of your day. It was pretty mundane - some reading, some studying - but he listened as if you were describing the plot to a sci-fi movie. Your eyes quickly took in everything laid out on the counter, mostly groceries, and landed on one bottle.

You picked it up and read the label while Percy explained what it was, happy you were amused, “that’s a new curl cream. The one I’ve been using’s a little too heavy for my hair, always weighing my curls down. I think I’m gonna try it today, do you wanna do the honours?” 

“Honours of what?” You asked, confused. You didn’t have curly hair, so you didn’t know much about the effort that went into taking care of it, just that it required a lot of different products and was incredibly laborious, according to Percy. His curls were really cute though, so in your opinion, the labour was worth it.

Making his way over to you and wrapping his arms around you, Percy batted his eyelashes, “of trying it on me. I’ve been thinking, babe, you need to know how to do curly hair for when we have kids! Curly hair genes run strong in my family, so I wouldn’t be surprised if our kids inherit them.” 

You felt your face heat up as you thought about having kids with Percy, then smiled fondly when you realised what he was doing. Percy’s always been incredibly shy about wanting to be cared for. No matter how many times you’d tell him you didn’t mind giving him a massage or going over his maths homework, he’d always try to conceal his true intentions with some other lame excuse, like now.

“Okay! Let’s go do it now,” you said, dragging him over to your bathroom. You grabbed a stool for him to sit on and stood between him and the bath, hand-held shower head in hand (I hope this setup makes sense LOL). Making sure the water was the perfect temperature, you began rinsing his hair, careful to make sure no water dripped down his body. While you did so, Percy told you about his day. You always loved his knack for storytelling, your boyfriend never failed to find a way to make anything sound interesting.

Next, you squirted some of his shampoo on your hand and began lathering it in his hair. You felt Percy relax and smiled, glad he was content, “it’s okay to want to be taken care of, Perce. I’ll do it gladly,” you mumbled absentmindedly, to which he simply hummed. As you conditioned his hair, he began to doze off, which made you reconsider using the cream. You didn’t trust yourself to use it without his guidance, but didn’t want to wake him up.

In the end, you decided on disrupting his sleep, since you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he slept now, “how do I do this?”

Percy took your hand and squirted some of the cream into your open palm, “rub it into both hands, then scrunch it into my hair.” You did as you were told, your hands light as too little was better than too much, in case you did something wrong.

When Percy looked into the mirror, he turned to you and smiled, “hey, you’re a natural! You should do this all the time” He asked, his eyes bleary. You would do this a million times if it made him this happy every single one of them.

After the cream came the gel, which was a lot easier since it was the same scrunching motion as before. You were a little apprehensive when Percy told you to put it in, since you didn’t think crunchy curls were the outcome. However, it all made sense during the final stage: the hair oil.

“This, my love, is what stops them from being all crunchy. Just lightly pass it over my hair,” Percy explained, pouring the tiniest amount of oil into your palm. You recognised the scent - it smelled like home, like him. 

You finished and admired your work. Percy was right, you were pretty good at taking care of curly hair. After running his fingers through his hair a couple times to loosen the curls up the way he liked, Percy gave you a hug, kissing your head thousands of times and saying a muffled, “thank you,” into your hair.

Nothing was more blissful than this. Well, until you smelt something burning.

Pulling away from you, Percy asked, “did you make something?” You wracked your brain for an answer then gasped, remembering what it was. Running to the kitchen with Percy behind you, you quickly pulled the cookies you were baking - once blue, now black - out of the oven.

“I wanted to surprise you with these!” You said, disappointed. 

Fighting the urge to cough, Percy picked one up and bit into it, grimacing for a second before smiling and holding a thumbs up, “it’s really unique, I’ve never tasted anything like these. You definitely did surprise me!” He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice Rolling your eyes, you discarded the cookies and replied, “oh, shut up, Perce”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson drabble #cynwrites

[artists-ally]

{Confess Your Lust} Azriel x Reader

You all can thank @riddlesb1tch for this. I have no regrets. It's just pure filth, but I know my whores like this 🥰 Rose this is all for you so you're the only one I care about liking it. Hope you all enjoy, title is from this song. highly suggest listening to while reading btw

Word Count: 4,682

Warnings: SMUT. Minor Dom/Sub concepts, bondage, degrading, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, Az is your pretty little good boy and you're gonna let him know ;)

Tagging: @riddlesb1tch @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @xaithings

Summary: Azriel requested a very special birthday present. And who were you to tell him no.

~~~~~~~

“Cassian, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gotten me a dagger for my birthday.”

“Yup,” he grins. 

“You know it’ll never suffice to Truth Teller, right?”

“An Illyrian can hope,” Cassian sighs, a relaxed smile on his face. “I know they all go in a drawer at the bottom of your dresser.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, but thanks his brother anyway. He appreciates them, but they hold no candle to the pretty piece of steel sat on his thigh.

Mor had gifted him a new pair of boots and a matching belt to go with them. They were of sleek leather, polished so well he could see his distorted reflection in the curve of the toe. He might have to set them aside for a special occasion so he doesn’t ruin them with training and missions. 

Rhys and Feyre gifted him a custom made weapons display case. It had racks and shelves for all his favorites, as well as drawers for the ones Cassian constantly gifted. It was complete with a throwing pad on the side to practice different strikes as well as a sharpening stone. He’d never admit to anyone but himself, but it made the back of his throat string. 

Amren promised him a night out at Rita’s, and coming from her it was quite generous. 

Buy my gift… it was something to be shared between my mate and no one else. They didn’t need to know the secret behind the look in my eye. It was waiting at our newly constructed home, just like I promised. Just like he had asked. 

“That’s it from us, I don’t see another one here,” Cassian looked around the rubble of discarded bags and decorative paper, not finding any other boxes. “Did Yn already give you hers?”

“No,” I said, sipping my glass of wine. “It’s back at the house. But he already knows what it is.”

“He does?”

“He does?” Azriel furrowed his brows, clearly not remembering the conversation the two of us had several months ago. 

Azriel sauntered into the dining hall, hands fisted at his sides, wings tucked in close. “Can I talk to you?”

The sudden spring of worry in his eyes made me put down my book, following him to a nearby couch to sit on. 

“What’s up, my love?” I asked tenderly, locking a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“If I asked you to do something for me- to me… would you?” 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Az,” I cocked my head to the side, getting a better look at his eyes. Those wicked shadows blocked some of his tan skin, so I gently nudged them out of the way.

“I umm- I was thinking that we might change some things up. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about these things and I want them. And I want to see if you could want them too.”

“Okay,” I nodded, waiting for a response.

“I want to try using some toys. On me.”

Well, that is not where I thought this was going to go at all. Utterly shocked, but not opposed to the idea, I asked him to elaborate. And by the Cauldron did he. He went into detail of what he wanted, why he wanted it, how he wanted it… it sounded like a dream come true. 

“I’m so happy you told me about this. Yes, I’d be more than happy to fulfill these fantasies with you,” I smiled eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it special for you. Just like you did for me.”

Azriel still didn’t seem to get it, so I flashed a mental image down the bond, watching his brows unfurrow and raise up his face. It was almost ridiculous how far they went up. Nobody else said anything as they watched the interaction. 

“Oh.”

“Oh… what? What did she get you?” Rhys prodded his brother, Azriel not breaking our eye contact. I just smirked, winking in his direction before turning back to the wine. Mor spared me a curious glance, but I gave away no details. The others didn’t need to know what happened behind those closed doors. 

“Just something to play with later,” Azriel swallowed, throat working down and then back up. Only I would be able to note the change in his scent. “Time for pastries?”

I giggled as he deflected the question and moved onto another topic. It was another hour or so before anyone made a move to leave, but as soon as Cassian rolled out, his hands were all over me. 

“Are you being serious?” His hands were cupping my cheeks, a desperate plea to his voice. 

“Of course, my shadow. Go on up, get yourself ready. I’ll be up in a little bit, okay? Send word when you’re ready,” I instruct, moving out of his reach to begin cleaning up some of the mess left behind from the small party. 

“Won’t you come do it for me?” His strong arms wrapped around me, the soft scent of his wings wafting in the air. “I could really use your help.”

“I thought you wanted me to take control?”

“I do, that’s why I-”

“Didn’t I give you an order?” 

“Y-Yes, I just wanted-”

“Then go. Don’t make me ask again, Azriel.” 

“Yes my lady,” he obediently replied. I watched him go up the stairs, shadows lingering behind before darting after him. Once I heard the door click softly shut, I continued my work around the living area and the kitchen. I didn’t have any desire to be cleaning, I just needed to build up some tension. For this to work as he wanted to, I needed to do the unpredictable. Which would be really fucking difficult since he is basically progammed to know every turn and corner. 

I threw out trash, packed dishes in the sink, scrubbed them clean and put them away. About five minutes ago he sent a shadow curling my way, enticing me up towards the play room. I ignored the urgency of the call, deciding I’ll go when I want to. And he’s just going to have to wait. 

Azriel isn’t the most patient creature in this world, that’s for damn sure. 

Making him wait this long would be torture. 

Precisely how I wanted it to be. 

Finally, after another ten-ish minutes of stalling, I make my way upstairs. Purposefully being as loud as I can without stomping up the stairs. My heels click gently across the hard stone. As I near the door, I am hit with a wave of arousal coming from the room. It’s thick and tastes devine on the back of my tongue.

The sight of him sitting in the chair, wings facing me, arms ready and waiting behind his back is a marvelous sight. I can’t help but smile. He looks so pretty. 

“I thought you forgot about me,” Azriel said, a smirk in his tone. “Is it time for my present yet?”

“So impatient, all of you Illyrians,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I made my way to the wall in front of him. Hung up, there were various toys and playthings. All could be used for pleasure or pain, depending on the mood. “You’ll get it when I say you do. Give me your wrists.”

I held the bundle of rope between my palms, stalking back over to Azriel in his chair. As I pass around to where his hands are locked behind his back, I make sure to tell him he’s allowed to safeword if and whenever he needs to. 

“I know, my love, thank you. I know you’ll take care of me,” he smiles gently, offering his lips.

“You asked to be overwhelmed, so I’m not going to stop unless you give me the word. I want you begging me to stop, remember? You’ll sound so pathetic and pretty when you whimper,” I smiled sickly sweet, pecking his lips with my own. “Ready?”

He gave a firm nod, hazel eyes locking on my body as I pulled away.

Back at the wall, I open the drawer in the chest, finding those two boxes I hid away weeks ago. How he never found them, I’ll never know, but I’m so glad. One was a vibrating cuff. The other was a dildo. 

After taking them out of the box and sanitizing them, I left them there for Az to see, but not to use yet. No, I wanted the anticipation to do the work for me. Rather than giving him what he wanted, I made my way over to him and trailed my fingers around his frame. 

Every flick of my finger sent goosebumps slithering across his skin. Up his neck… down his arms. That sensitive place between his wings twitched as I trailed through it, delicately applying pressure on the muscle. 

“Fuck, baby you… you can’t tease me like that.”

“I think I can do whatever I want,” I replied. “You are tied up at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good boy,” I smiled, threading my fingers through his thick hair, latching onto his scalp. I pulled to the side, watching his body move with the force. His chest rose and fell, I could feel his heartbeat down the bond. Wicked. Powerful. Anticipating my next move. 

I slid into his lap, feeling just how much he needed me through his pants. I leaned just far enough away that he couldn't capture my mouth with his. He tried twice to kiss me, but each time I leaned away, a sick smile on my lips. 

Azriel scoffed, “I just wanted a kiss.”

“I know you do, but I didn’t give you permission, did I?” I mocked, leaning in closer and closer. “Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. I decide when you get what you’ve earned. And all you’ve done so far is complain that I haven’t given you anything. That’s not how good boys behave is it?”

I can see the fire in his eyes, those two sides of his personality fighting each other head on. This desire inside him to be taken care of, to be set free by my control versus that blistering need to be in control of everything. 

I’ll break him free with my bare hands if I have to. 

“Don’t be shy, my shadow. You can say it, it’s okay. No one can hear you besides me. Unless you want everyone to know just how much you need me.”

“I’ll behave,” he recites quickly. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging for it already,” I smirked, standing up from my place in his lap. He groans, cock clearly straining against the fabric covering his legs. 

I circle him. Like a predator to its prey. “You look so pretty tied up, my shadow.”

“When I asked you to play with me, I didn’t expect to be tortured.”

“Tortured?” I spun around to see his hazy eyes. “Oh, my sweet love, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging? Don’t be so pathetic, Azriel. You can take more, can’t you?” I nodded his head for him, fingers fisted in his hair. “Yes you can, good boy.”

I quickly walked around to see his pink cheeks, heated with humiliation. I had no intention of going easy on him the first time. 

In a swift motion, I sheathed the blade at his thigh, cutting away his pants, leaving him just in his undershorts. He gasped, eyes going wide as roughly pulled them down his hips. “Y-Yn what are you-”

“Quiet,” I demanded. 

Azriel shut his mouth, panting heavily as I fisted his cock in my hand. His head tipped back in pleasure, and I almost let myself enjoy it for a second before I ripped my hand away. Those fierce hazel eyes were back on mine in an instant, silently begging for more. He made a wounded sound when I walked away, grabbing the vibrating cuff from the dresser. 

“Let’s play a game, okay? I put this on, and you aren’t going to cum. If you take it like the good boy I know you are, then I’ll give you something else to play with. If you cum… well, you’re just not going to stop.”

Azriel looks genuinely afraid. Like I might break him if I go through with this. I’ve never wanted to break something so badly just to put it back together again. 

I kneel in front of him, spreading his knees apart. I can see the generous amount of gel he’s used to work himself open for later. His body is glowing, vibrating with tension. I spit on his dick, enjoying the sight of him flinching as it hits his hot skin. 

Being extra agonizing, I blow some cool air on his tip to really watch him jump. I giggle, sliding the cuff over his length. The pale blue color is a stark contrast to his bright red skin. There is a button near the bass to turn it on and to switch the intensity. The gentle purr of the toy comes to life with a quick tap, and Azriel damn near falls out of the chair.

“Relax,” I say, forcing his knees down. I looked up at him, chest unmoving as he held his breath. “Breath Azriel.”

“I- I can-can’t,” he chokes. “Fuck Yn, it’s too much.”

“It’s only on the first setting, you’ll get used to it. In thirty seconds I’m going to put it on the next setting,” I warn, watching the way his body quivers slightly. 

My mates eyes are slammed shut, teeth clenched together. His cock gently pulses with the vibe, slick trickling down his shaft in a steady stream. To be a little extra mean, I run my tongue up the length.

“Oh gods Yn…” he pleads, head tossed back. His chest is on display, perfectly cut muscles constricting with every breath. 

“You’re being so good, Azriel,” I praise, relishing in the way his body relaxes into the words. “Just a little longer.”

I stand, walking to the corner of the room to the closet. I quietly wheel out the next part of his surprise, setting them aside for when I need them. When I come back, I notice the sheen of sweat lining his chest and torso. It glimmers in the low light, catching at all the right angles. 

I stroke my hands up and down his shoulders, working the tense muscles. He relaxes into my body and I travel further. Over his chest, over his abs, down his thighs. When I reach his cock, I press the next button and turn up the intensity. 

Az growls. In a way I’ve never heard him before. He curls in on himself, kicking his feet against the floor. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Azriel. I know you want to be my good boy and take your birthday present so well. You’re gonna take it until I tell you you’ve had enough.”

“It feels so good,” he moans. His thighs are shaking, his cock flushed almost purple. “M-More.”

“And now you’re begging for it? Gods, Az you are so easy for me. I’m sure if you'd found this before tonight, I would’ve caught you with it, huh? So fucking desperate.” I can’t help but tease him, he makes it so easy. And he is being so good for me, why not give him what he wants? “You asked for more, Azriel.”

I click it up another notch, watching the way it sends shock waves through the muscles in his thighs and abs. He’s open-mouth panting now, unable to take a breath without whining. He starts shaking his head back and forth, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“You’re not allowed to cum, Azriel. I didn’t give you permission.”

My reminder makes him sob. “Please, please Yn. Fucking please let me cum. Fuck I-I can’t- Yn I can’t-”

“You’re going to,” I demand, pushing the hair out of his face. “Because I told you to. You wanna make me happy, right? I won’t be happy if you cum. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

He shakes his head no rapidly, sweat dripping down his face. 

“Then don’t cum. It’s not that hard.”

Azriel cries out, the noise coming deep within his chest. He tries to cross his legs to relieve the pressure, but I force them to stay open. He shakes and writhes, wings slanted behind his back in a mess of shadows. He cannot sit still, but I don’t reprimand him for it. 

The room is filled with the sound of his harsh breathing and the hum of the vibrator. It’s filled with the scent of his sweat and breath. 

“Yn- Yn turn it off.”

“No.”

He curses, a colorful menagerie falling from his wet lips. “Please please please please please please.”

The sound of him begging, truly begging, makes me grin in a sinister way. This is exactly how I wanted him. A whimpering, desperate mess for me to play with. 

I turn it off. 

Azriel blows out a breath, body still writhing. His cock stands tall, a deep shade of maroon. I know one flick of my tongue would send him over the edge. And having that kind of power over him feels incredible. 

After letting him rest for a second, I decide it’s time for some real fun. I pluck the dildo off the dresser and stand in front of Azriel, waiting for him to look up at me. When those hazel eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and full of pleasure. Almost too much. He looks drunk with his cheeks so rosy and ears flaming red. He looks so adorable all fucked out like this. 

“Stand,” I commanded, watching the words register on his face. 

His knees tremble, but he manages, stretching his taught legs. The sight of him shaking so vividly would normally scare me. But right now it's… it's beautiful. I made him this way, and this ache between my legs couldn't be stronger. 

The cup on the end suctions to the metal chair when I place the dildo down. “Sit.”

“Yn-”

“Sit,” I snapped, eyes hardening. Azriel swallowed, looking from me to the chair and back. “Don’t make me ask again. I told you to sit. So sit down. Now.”

He turned back around, standing above the chair. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he lowered himself to the chair. His arms were bulging against the ropes, veins running along his biceps throbbing with his pulse. But he sits. All the way down. 

With a proud smile, I drink in the way he sits. It's so rigid. His chest barely moves with his quick breaths. His eyes are screwed shut. 

“Azriel,” I taunt, my voice sickly sweet. “What's got you breathing so hard, hmm? Are you in too much pleasure? Does it feel too good?”

His mouth gapes open, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re at a loss for words with how good you feel. So fucking pathetic, completely fucked out the first time you’re taking a toy?” I click on the vibrator again, starting at level two. He thrashes, then grunts, tossing his head back. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been pleasing me so much, Azriel, did you know that? You’re making me so happy. Keep being a good boy and I’ll let you cum.”

“Yn…” he breathed, head falling back to meet my eyes.

“What do you need, my shadow? More? You want more?” He shakes his head no, but remains silent. “You can do better than a pitiful shake of your head. Tell me what you want, Azriel.”

“Yn… Yn…” he chants, my name a plea of desperation. It's airy and full of need. 

“That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need, I promise I’ll give it to you.”

With bleary eyes, he looks at me. “Please let me cum.” 

The words are broken and a little slurred, but he told me what he needed. So I’ll give it to him. 

“Such a good boy, Azriel. Telling me how much you need to cum. I’ll make sure you do, baby. Just keep taking it for me. You’re doing soooo good.”

I kept talking to him, praising him for how good he’s taking everything I’ve given him. Azriel is babbling and pleading like a total whore. While he drones on and on, I wheel out the surprise I set in the corner. Three long, vertical mirrors are set around him so he can see every angle of his perfect body. 

So he can watch himself come undone without me even touching him. 

“Azriel, look at me baby,” I commanded. He settles his gaze on me, then the mirrors. “Don’t you think you look so pretty?”

The way his body slumps in the chair sent chills down my spine. He spread his legs, admitting the cuff constricting his cock. Azriel pushes on his toes lightly, bobbing up and down on the dildo. “Fuck I- Yn I look so…so-”

“I want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror. Don’t look at anything but yourself. This is all for you, take it all in, my shadow. Enjoy watching yourself fall apart for me.”

Azriel nodded. 

I circled him slowly, amused at how… delicate he looked despite the harsh reality of his current fate. He was tied up, more vulnerable than ever. And yet he looked so sweet and simple. And devastatingly ruined. 

At the first touch to the leathery material of his wings, Azriel jumped. He shouted and swore. 

“Relax, Azriel.”

“I can’t handle it when you touch my wings, Yn. I’m not gonna be able to hold on,” Az pleads. I touch him again in the same spot. He shudders and grits his teeth. “Yn please.”

“Eyes on yourself, Azriel.”

With a deep, controlled breath, he pulls his eyes back to the mirrors. As I touch and explore the most sensitive parts of him, he twitches in every direction, effectively screwing himself further on the dildo. I take the curve of my nail and trace a vein running in his wing. Fibers in his muscles seize. 

In the mirror, I can see the cuff working nicely. His chest is coated in sweat and it takes all my strength to not run my tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his throat. Instead, I continue to tease his wings. 

Azriel has this one specific spot right at the base of his wing that drives him insane. The moment I begin to move my hand, he begins to moan uncontrollably. He begs and whines and begs again for me to make him come. 

“Are you watching yourself, baby?” I ask, locking eyes with him in the mirror. When he nods, eyes cast down at his body, I stroke his wing. Twice. And tears spill down his face. 

“F-Fuck Yn I need to cum. I need to cum, fuck PLEASE let me cum please please please,” Azriel chants like I’m a long forgotten god. As if I would be able to grant all his wishes and desires. And it fills me with a fire I’ve never felt before. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, Azriel. Go ahead. You can cum, let go.” 

The second I gave him permission, he came. His whole body convulsed with the force. His legs and torso shivered, ecstasy pouring out of him with every whine and curse. 

“Fuuuucccckkkkk,” he mewls, watching his cum slide down his cock, spreading over his thighs. The cuff keeps vibrating, drawing out his pleasure. “Turn it off turn it off turn it off-”

“Don’t you wanna see how far you can go? You look so pretty when you cum, I could keep watching you forever, my dear. Why don’t you do it again, okay? You’ve earned it, go ahead and cum for me, just once more.”

His whole body is flush, the same beautiful color as his aching cock. He strains against the ropes and for a minute I think he’s going to break free. But he falls slack, a steady wave of whimpers as the cuff continues to drain him. The flow of it never stops. 

After a few more seconds to enjoy the show for myself, I turn off the vibrator. I gently slide it off, the majority of his seed landing on my fingers. I make a bog show of licking it off for him. 

Azriel is lost in his mind somewhere when I begin to undo the ropes. I massage his shoulders, working blood back into his extremities. 

“You did such an amazing job, my love. I am so proud of you, I hope you had as good of a time as I did.”

Azriel stayed quiet, but he nodded his head, gulping down air. He was shaking, but judging by the way the bond felt, he felt nothing but euphoria. I had done exactly what I was asked, and he loved it. 

While I kneaded his shoulders, kissing up and down his back, he recovered. While I was strong, I wasn’t strong enough to lift a fully grown Illyrian warrior and carry him to the bathroom. Currently, he’s in no condition to move under his own volition, so we’ll take our time until his strength is restored. 

“I love you so much, Az. My beautiful, strong mate. You did such a good job, such a good boy for me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Love being your good boy.”

“You are, you did so fucking good Azriel. It was so hot watching you cum like that,” I smiled, kissing his forehead, then his lips when he pursed them to me. “Feeling good enough to get to the bathroom? The tub is waiting, ready for you.”

My mate nodded, “Only if you’ll come in with me.”

Giggling, I slung his arm over my shoulder. “Of course I will. Stand up slowly, take your time. I’ve got you.”

With a few hisses as he stood up off the chair, wings splaying out to help him keep his balance, I guided him to the bathroom. He could stand just… not super well. We stumbled, but made it to the tub in one piece. I left him to climb in as I stripped, adding some salts to the bath. 

“I don’t care about that, just get in, my love.”

Illyrians, not known for their extended patience, but they are known for their incredible brutality and bravery.

As well as their wingspans. 

Before he could yank me in with my clothes on, I swept them away with a flick of my hand and climbed in. Azriel guided me to sit in his lap, face to face. His warm, scar-flecked hands caressed my body. It wasn’t in a particularly sexual manner, but I was far too turned on to not let a whimper slip. But he didn’t smirk or crack a teasing joke, he just continued to roam my body. 

It seemed to calm him, the edges of ecstasy fading away from the bond one strand at a time. His heart rate slowed and that glaze over his eyes faded away. 

“Feeling okay?” I asked, stroking my hands up and around the tattoos on his shoulders and chest. 

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Just… wow. My body feels so tingly.”

“Now you know how I feel when you make me cum multiple times.”

Azriel smiled, sending my heart tumbling in my chest. “Guess I should be a bit more gracious with you, shouldn’t I? Considering now you have what you need to retaliate.”

“I think you’d like it if I retaliated,” I grin. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Good time? I’ve never felt so satisfied in my whole life. Thank you for giving me that experience.”

I smiled so wide it hurt. “Of course, my shadow. But the next time you want to have a ‘new experience’, don’t hesitate to wait so long to tell me.”

“I promise,” Azriel whispers, cupping both sides of my face with his hands. Our foreheads lean in together. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x you #smut #acotar smut #azriel smut

[slut4thebroken]

Second Chances

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | Emmett takes advantage of your kindness and hospitality.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, praise, guilt tripping, very large age gap, painful sex, first time, breeding, crying, bro has hella trauma fr.

Words | 2.5 k

Notes | Direct result of my Emmett brain rot (Also two fics in one day??🫣)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Here you go.” You smiled, handing the steaming mug to him. 

“Thanks.” His voice was quiet as he took it from you and held it in his lap. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, sitting down next to him, hoping you weren’t intruding too much. He paused for a moment, seemingly debating if he actually wanted to make conversation with you and give you “personal” information about himself. 

“Emmett.” He finally said. 

You gave him your name and watched as his eyes dragged down your body, taking in every inch of you. With a blush, you cleared your throat and looked away for a moment to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Are you warm enough?” He looked over you again with a neutral expression that made you squirm a little. 

“Actually I’m still a little cold. Is there anywhere I could go that’s inside?” 

“Oh- yes! Of course.” You said quickly as you got to your feet. “My parents will be out of the house for another couple of hours so you can use some extra blankets and maybe lay down on the couch for a while.” You smiled. He didn’t return the expression as he stood up and followed you for a couple minutes until you finally walked up a porch to the front door. 

“Okay, let me just grab another blanket and then I’ll start the fire place as well.” You ran off to retrieve a blanket and when you came back, he was sitting on the couch looking around the room. 

He gave you a small “thank you” after you handed him the blanket and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked forward, then kneeled down in front of the fireplace. “You live here with your parents?” He suddenly asked, almost startling you. 

“Yeah. Since there’s three of us, we got our own place. A lot of other people had to share.” He hummed in acknowledgment and you finished up with starting the fire before turning around to face him, finding his eyes already on you. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“This is more than enough.” He said softly. 

“Okay… Well, I’ll let you rest. If you’re hungry I can try to make something?” You offered with a kind smile. 

“Actually I’d rather talk with you.” 

“Oh-” You said, eyes widening in surprise— He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want to make small talk with a stranger. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone like this.” You hesitantly got up and sat down next to him on the couch. 

“Like what?” You asked curiously. 

“So loud… and about things other than survival.” His voice was still quiet, but this time there was a bit of a solemn undertone to it. 

“Oh.” You bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, but not really knowing how to approach this. “You never… had anyone to talk to about normal stuff? Surely it wasn’t all survival.” You can’t even imagine what he must have experienced. When he suddenly looked away and clenched his jaw, you realized that you might’ve over stepped. “I’m sorry, that was— I shouldn't have pried…”

“It’s fine. I had a family, but they’re gone now.” He still wasn’t looking at you. Taking one last sip from the mug, he leaned forward, then placed it on the coffee table. 

“God, I- I’m so sorry.” You said quietly. 

“It’s silly, but… I miss being able to hug them— to hug people.” He finally looked at you again, this time with a sad smile. “I remember the last time I felt someone’s touch… 11 weeks ago.” That must have been when his family died…

“Would you like a hug?” You offered nervously, hoping you weren’t too bold again. He studied you for another moment before nodding. 

“That would be really nice.” Once you had his approval, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him, letting him do the same even though his wet clothes were starting to dampen yours. He let out a quiet breath and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you… I’ve been so lonely.” He whispered, making you frown. 

“You won’t have to be anymore. The people here are very kind, you’ll make plenty of friends.” 

“I can tell.” His voice was a little amused now and he pulled back just enough to look at you. “If it’s not too much trouble… could I hug you a little more?” 

“Of course.” You said instantly, then let out a startled sound when he lifted you onto his lap so you were straddling his thighs. You thought he meant more as in for a longer period of time, not.. this…

“Thank you.” He said again, pulling you closer and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were stiff for a few seconds, still trying to process this new development, but finally you relaxed into him and hugged him a little tighter. “I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.” He whispered against your neck. 

“To hug?” You wondered, trying to understand. 

“Yes. But also the gentle touch of a woman.” A blush took over your face and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, my wife… I was with her when she passed.” He said quietly. You were already dreading where this was going, not sure you could handle learning about any more of the pain he’s suffered since the start of everything. “I had a really hard time understanding and accepting this… but she said she wanted me to move on. To be happy again.” One of his arms stayed wrapped around your upper body, but the other moved a little lower, pulling you closer so your hips were also flush with his. 

“Emmett…” You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip and you finally felt the bulge pressed up against your heat. You tried not to gasp at the realization.

“Shh… It’s okay. I just— You look so much like her…” You had no idea what to say. You’ve never been in a position like this before. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly pulled away and you stared down at him in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done— everything I didn’t do.” Your lips parted, but no words could come out for a moment.  

“You deserve feeling safe and cared for. Everything you had to do was for the sake of staying alive.” At least you assumed it was. Honestly you have no idea what he’s done. “And it’s not your fault— what happened to your family. You did everything you could.” You said softly and he started shaking his head. “Yes. You can’t blame yourself, Emmett. Maybe that’s why your wife said that to you before she passed… because she knew how much you’d struggle with it.” 

“You remind me of her so much.” He said through a choked sob, making you freeze. You had no idea he’d get so emotional. Not knowing what else to do, you just pulled him back into the hug and held him tightly. “That’s exactly the kind of response she would’ve given.” He croaked. In response, you just hugged him even tighter. 

“It’s okay…” You whispered. “I’m so sorry, Emmett. No one deserves to go through what you have.” 

“It hurts.” He cried, making your heart ache for him. 

“Tell me what you need. How can I help?” You said quickly, not wanting to see him like this any longer. 

“Can I— can I kiss you?”

“What?!” You choked out, making him pull back to look at you. The tear tracks on his cheeks were far less than what you thought they’d be, but maybe they just wiped off on your dress. 

“Please. I miss her so much and… god you look exactly like her.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. 

“I…” You’ve never kissed anyone before. Are you really about to give it away to a stranger you just met less than an hour ago? “Emmett…”

“I know I don’t deserve it— I know. But I just… it hurts so bad, I can’t take it.” He all but whimpered, making your hesitant expression melt into something softer and more sympathetic. 

“…I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You admitted quietly and you swore his eyes darkened, but it was too hard to really tell. 

“I know I’m asking far too much of you— I know I don’t deserve your kindness,” 

“Stop saying things like that.” You frowned. “You deserve kindness, you deserve to feel loved, just like everyone else.” He stared at you for a moment, his eyes still glossy with tears, then he was suddenly leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss. You let out a muffled sound of surprise and brought your hands to his chest, trying to push him away. In response, he snaked his hand around your head to grasp your hair, holding you still as he moaned quietly. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your lips. You let out another startled sound when he suddenly threw you off of him so you were laying on your back on the couch. Before you could move away, he was crawling over you, kissing you again as his hands roamed your body. 

“Emmett-” You tried to say as you continued pushing his chest, but he was too strong. “Stop!” 

“I know.” He panted before snaking his hand down your stomach all the way to the apex of your thighs. He slipped under your dress easily and roughly cupped your sex, making you whimper. 

“Emmett, please stop.” 

“I will. I will— I just need this. I haven’t been with a woman in so long…” He whispered. “I promise I’ll be fast.” 

“Please don’t,” You whimpered, already feeling tears brimming in your eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hand suddenly left your body to open his pants and free his cock, then he was pulling your panties to the side and lining up. 

“Please! I- I’m a..” You sobbed, trying anything to get this to stop. 

“I’ll be gentle.” He promised, then faltered and added, “At least… I’ll try to be.” When you felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, your body went completely rigid. 

“Please! Emmett, please don’t,” You cried, still trying to push him away. 

“Shh…” The blunt head of his cock was against your entrance now, pushing as hard as possible, trying to fit inside you. When he finally breached your opening, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your shrill scream. “Oh— fuck… I'm not gonna last.” He moaned loudly, letting his head drop down for a moment. The tears in your eyes were finally falling and you sobbed almost violently behind his hand. Your crying only got worse though when he continued pushing in. 

“Almost there.” He whispered and you let out an anguished sob in response. It felt like you were being ripped open as he continued pushing deeper, a lot farther than what you could comfortably take. “Good girl… Just a little more.” Your body was trembling from the pain and you started clawing at him, trying anything to get this to stop. But he was undeterred. When he finally bottomed out, he let out a low groan that was overshadowed by your cry of pain. 

“I know… I’m sorry. Fuck, you feel so good. Just like how she felt.” He whispered. “I think she’d be happy that it’s you.” He gave you a small smile, then slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside before forcing it back in. 

“Please!” You cried, the word coming out muffled from behind his hand. 

“God- your cunt is so good.” He groaned, picking up the pace, making you cry harder. 

“Stop! Please…” You whimpered brokenly. 

“I know, baby. I’m almost done, I promise.” He said breathily. You tried kicking your legs, thrashing under him, pushing him away, but he was too strong. “Just a little longer, you’re doing so good.” He removed his hand, but before you could scream, he was kissing you again. This time, he shoved his tongue passed your parted lips, licking into your mouth in a desperate, almost feral manner. That, along with the fact that you couldn’t focus on this kiss because of how hard you were crying, made it incredibly messy and sloppy and wet. 

He snapped his hips into you, chasing his orgasm as he kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss anyone ever again, making it feel like you could barely breathe. Mostly because of the kiss, but also because of how overwhelming the pain of the stretch was. He continued kissing you and his facial hair felt scratchy against face, only furthering your discomfort. 

“I’m close.” He whispered against your lips. At least it was almost over. “I haven’t filled up a cunt in over a year.” He practically growled, making you stiffen again. 

“N-no… Emmett, please don’t. Please pull out.” You begged desperately, trying to speak coherently through all of the crying. 

“I thought you said I deserve this? That I deserve to finally be happy after everything.” He frowned, making you falter. 

“I didn’t mean… this.” You choked out, not sure what else to say. 

“I know…” He said quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I’ll try to pull out.” 

“Emmett, please. You have to,” He leaned down and cut you off with another kiss as his thrusts became even rougher. 

“You’re such a good girl…” He murmured against your lips, breathing heavily as he neared his release. “So good. I’m gonna make you mine. I’ll take care of you, just like I took care of her. But we’ll be safe this time...” You shook your head, unable to do anything else. “No monsters, no illness— It’s gonna be perfect. We’ll even have some boys, yeah?”

“No,” You sobbed, quickly feeling defeated. You couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried. “Please, Emmett… I just turned 18, I- I can’t…” He moaned quietly when you said that. 

“Shh. Yes you can. I’ll help you, baby, we’ll do it together.” You shook your head in disagreement as you continued to cry. “Fuck,” He choked out, eyes closing again. “Ready?” 

“No— no, Emmett… please. Please pull out!” You yelled, making him curse under his breath. With one final groan, he forced his cock all the way in, pushing up against your cervix uncomfortably. 

“Oh, good girl.” He moaned, lazily rutting into you as he rode out his high. “So fucking good. So tight… milking every fucking drop.” He said proudly, making you cry harder at the verbal reminder that he just came inside you. 

“Emmett…” You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch inside you. 

“Thank you.” He said through a breath. “Thank you so much.” He almost sounded like he was about to cry in relief and that made you falter. This man has been alone for weeks, just haunted by the memories of his family with no real outlet or source of comfort. So when someone finally offered him some… he jumped at the chance immediately. You probably would’ve done the same, had you lost your entire family. 

“And I meant what I said. I’m going to keep you safe this time, I promise.” He said quietly, reaching down to feel where his cock was bulging your stomach— where a baby would be growing soon enough. “All of you.” 

#emmett smut #emmett aqp2 #emmett a quiet place #emmett x reader #emmett x you #cillian murphy

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

#harry #harry fic #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #professor!harry #TA!harry #professorry

[ethrlst]

sparked secrecy

⌞ sypnosis ⌝ - one of the unspoken rules of friendship is to always keep it platonic. between your circle of friends, the line of friendship start to blur between you and a certain pair of blue-green eyes. what happens when you begin to favor one more than the others?

⌞ wordcount & tags ⌝ - 1k+ words. fluff! lando x reader! slight!slowburn! head over heels for each other! highschoolsweethearts!

⌞ a/n ⌝ - here’s a little something i worked on after watching a cute edit of lando i saw on my fyp. for the mean time, i might start doing small drabbles of other drivers as well before writing the second part of my first work ;). happy reading!

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

three minutes clicks the clock before the bells go off signaling lunch, students favorite time of the day. it was yours as well, as much as theirs, because it was a full hour and quarter of laughter, bantering and endless conversations with the people you adore, your friends. one by one, students grab their belongings and head straight to the cafeteria, including your friends who didn’t miss inviting you before your short answer of i’ll be with you guys in a sec, referring to your books and supplies.

when the noises died down, you had initially thought you were alone, not until you hear a soft cough. bringing your eyes towards the noise just to see lando leaning down towards you in a chair. ‘hi’, he softly grins at you: ‘hi’, smiling at him in return. gazing at eachother’s eyes, you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks, and as quickly as you could, you try and distract him with a conversation.

‘why aren’t you in the cafeteria with them?’

‘you look really pretty.’ it fails.

his hand reaches for your hair, tucking it behind your ear, he then gently caresses your scarlet tinted cheeks with his thumb. ‘cherry’, he utters while observing your flushed face. slapping him with your english book, giggles and a small ‘ow!’ from lando echoes in the room. ‘let’s go?’, gathering your items, you look at him only to see his eyes already on yours, staring, admiring. with a small smile, he says, ‘yeah, let’s go.’

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listening intently to daniel’s story on how he managed to pull his girlfriend of 2 years, you can hear charles’ complaints about it’s repetition, sick of hearing how utterly in love his friend was. ‘mate, i’ve heard this story more than i’ve heard max talk about being the top student, daniel please!’, charles exhaustedly rolling his eyes, the group laughs at the two; giggling, you joined. ‘well to be honest i’d quite prefer his stories rather than sit here and endure about yuki’s problems with his crush.’ pierre only adds to the group’s laughter. the latter is quick to defend himself with a very verbal curse to his friend as well as a witty comment about carlos who laughed at pierre’s statement, ‘well carlos here isn’t even trying to talk to his, so i don’t know why he’s laughing’. carlos only responds with his middle finger.

continuing to write down your ideas on how you’re going to design the cake you plan on baking tonight, you hear your name being called by oscar. ‘heard from lily you received a love letter with chocolate covered cherries on your locker, mind giving us an insight on who?’. with a smile, you ignore your friends’ continuous questions regarding the matter with a short ‘no can do.’ despite so, they continue to nag you of any information, a hint to whoever this mystery admirer of yours was. stretching, lando gives you an amused look, sharing a small moment of sparked secrecy before you comb through your hair to hide the beaming look on your face.

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the cool breeze of the air blows your hair right onto your face as you walk, chuckling to yourself, you try and comb your hair back to decency with your fingers. it works for a while, but the wind comes back stronger and that’s when you decide to finally put a stop to your agony and lando’s endless rude comments about how your hair reminds him of the full grown bush outside his parents house. the both of you side by side walk towards the train station just before parting to say goodbye. ‘i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’, he smiles softly towards you and you return with a grin, ‘of course, who else are you gonna copy statistics out of?’.

lando lazily rolls his eyes and comes up with a comeback, but ultimately fails. quickly you say your byes to him before boarding the train, usually you would wave him goodbye but today seems to be different, sitting at a chair, you look away nervously. lando still frozen on his feet, gradually lifts his fingers and graze his left cheek. yes, you didn’t wave him goodbye, but instead, you had kissed him. it had been a good minute after the train had left when finally, he starts coming back to his senses. with a silly smile that reaches upto his ears, lando begins to take his route home. step by step, the boy couldn’t help but replay the way you leaned up towards him and gently place your soft lips on his cheek with your hand on his chest. he rethinks it all, simmers it all down to his memory as much as he could, afraid he’d forget any bit of detail.

what would tomorrow be like? how would my day be? shall i ask her to eat lunch? should i give her something? i think i should text her. no! that’s not a good idea. but.. how would i know if she’s reached home? i should wait instead.. right? ughhh i don’t know! maybe i should text he— his thoughts were interrupted when he feels his phone vibrate and make a small sound of pingg! fishing it out of his pocket quickly, he looks at the screen to read your message of ‘i forgot to take my chapstick back from your bag, could you bring it to class tomorrow, please lan?’ followed by another, ‘oh and by the way, in case you were wondering, i’m home. :)’.

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clicking his keys on his house door, he heads straight to the the bathroom right after disregarding his items in his room. in the middle of dressing himself to comfortable clothes after a shower, lando’s eyes lands on his bag just behind his door. a thought runs through his head as he grabs it and does his search. hearing a knock on his door, lando removes his headset before responding with ‘coming!’. he finds his family preparing the dining table for dinner as he walks up to his mother and kissing her hello before helping. his ears perks up to his mother’s voice calling his name across the table. ‘are you wearing chapstick, darling? it smelt like a cherry one to me.’ now scarlet faced, lando lowers his head down trying to hide the growing smile on his lips. not wanting to raise suspicion and receive weary eyes from the rest of the family, the boy hums as a response. choosing to stay quiet and listen to the conversation between his father and siblings until rest of the dinner, lando swiftly comes back to his room and sends you a response. ‘hey, just finished eating dinner. sure! and it was the cherry one, right?’.

fin.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris drabble #lando norris fluff #fluff #lando norris f1 #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #mclaren f1 #f1 2024 #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #pierre gasly #carlos sainz #yuki tsunoda #oscar piastri #lando norris blurb #lando norris au

[kingkatsuki]

Sealed With A Kiss | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Didn’t think I’d write anything for Bakugou’s birthday and then a random idea popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. It’s been months since I’ve started and finished a fic, so please be kind! And Happy Birthday, Bakugou!💕

Summary: Not everyone wants the quirk that they're given. Ever since you were a child, you were cursed with a quirk where you’re able to see how someone will die when you kiss them. Unsure on whether your quirk is telling the future, or sealing their fate with a kiss of death, its safer for you to completely give up on finding love. Coming to terms over the years that you’ll have to watch all your friends get married and settle down, while you spend the rest of your life alone. That is, until you run into Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings: 18+, minimal plot, mostly smut, no beta, praise, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sex, protected sex, not as angsty as I thought it’d be!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 6.4k.

What would you do if you could tell someone the exact time and way that they’re going to die? Would you share that information with them, hoping that they can get their affairs in order and live those final moments to the fullest before kicking the bucket? Or would you keep quiet about it, holding onto the information as though it's a sordid little secret that needs to be buried and taken to your own grave?

Not that it matters anyway, because even if you held that information no one would believe you anyway, would they? Telling someone that they’re going to die in a car accident when they don’t even drive, or that they die during a snowstorm in July. It’s like people only ever believe what they want to hear, and it’s the same reason why even your best friend doesn’t know about your quirk. Imagine if you’d proved it, writing down your prediction and then waiting for it to happen. Counting down the days like you’re waiting for an exciting event, not waiting for someone to die. And then what? Someone dies and people want you to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a fluke. And then what? You’re kissing every single person that comes along just to tell them that they’re not going to make it to their next birthday?

Quirks should be a blessing, but yours was most definitely a curse.

“You know you really should start trying to settle down, you’re not getting any younger.” You could practically feel the disdain in their tone as you tried to avoid the question by taking a sip of your drink.

“You act like she’s going to die soon,” Your best friend Tatami laughed, shaking her head, “She’s got plenty of time.”

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You should scoff at the saying, but in this instance, it was very much true. The entire Hen party was made more awkward by the fact that you didn’t like any of your best friends friends’. All socialites that would give up your deepest, darkest secrets to further themselves and get their names plastered all over the latest tabloids. You were lucky enough to have known her since childhood, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Every wedding you’d attended in the last few years was even more elaborate and outrageous than the last like each bride competed to show that they had the most magnificent life. And every time you were stuck in an uncomfortable bridesmaid dress, trying to avoid the same string of questioning that you knew was coming.

“Come on, Tatami.” One of the girls rolled her eyes, taking a large sip of champagne, “Why don’t you try to set her up with one of your old school friends? At least then she’d be with a man with ambition.”

You felt irritated by them talking about you as though you weren’t even in the room, never mind sitting on the opposite ends of a table. They made it seem as though you were incapable of finding a partner like no one would ever want you.

“Or you could try one of those dating websites, I almost married a rich tycoon from Russia on there before I settled down with my husband. It’s funny how things work out.”

Of course, no one even bothers to ask me whether I want a boyfriend or not– never mind a husband. You rolled your eyes at the idea of flying out to Russia to marry a rich oil tycoon.

“I’m happily single at the moment,” You force a smile, your hand tightening against your glass, “

“They are right though, darling.” Tatami gave you a soft smile, “You have been single for quite some time. I’m not even certain I remember the last time you even mentioned going on a date with anyone?”

That’s because you hadn’t. Not since you lost your boyfriend all those years ago. Why would you try to look for someone again knowing what you know now?

Growing up you’d eagerly awaited receiving your quirk, but the longer it took to manifest the more you’d come to terms that you were one of the quirkless. It wasn’t until you shared your first kiss at sixteen that you realised that maybe things weren’t quite as they seemed. Everyone anticipates their first kiss, hoping it would be one of those special, perfect moments that you’d remember for the rest of your life. But instead, the moment you’d shared yours, you’d been struck with a horrifying premonition.

It felt like a dream at first, a moment where you’d pinch yourself and realise that everything had been concocted in your mind. The vision of your first love walking into traffic on a cold, snowy evening. The cars were unable to stop against the icy terrain as they drove straight towards him, the lights bouncing off the road to make it difficult to see pedestrians as he was knocked to his back. You’d even told him about it after it happened, laughing about how vivid your imagination was– but not even three months later and it's like your nightmare came true.

You’d told yourself it was a coincidence, that it could've happened to anyone and it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to heal your heart as you took time to recover from losing your first love until you met your next boyfriend. You were trying to allow yourself to be happy again, to forget the bad memories that haunted your past. Until it happened again– your first kiss with him gave you a vision. This time a villain attack endangered the city, your boyfriend was caught in the crossfire as a fire quirk ripped through his body and burnt him from the inside out.

It should’ve frightened you, much like the first time. But instead, you just felt numb. It was then you realised that you weren’t in fact quirkless, but instead of gaining a talent that was cool, flashy or useful to society– you inherited a curse.

Of course, there was no way you could explain your quirk to anyone, finding someone that believed you would be hard enough. But telling someone that you know when they’re going to die purely from kissing them? It sounded insane. Not to mention what it could do if the information fell into the wrong hands. Using the information for those dark, depraved benefits.

And to this day you weren’t even sure whether kissing someone showed the way they were going to die, or whether kissing them sealed their fate. Like you were the grim reaper handing out the macabre kiss of death.

Why would anyone want to be with you?

So it was easier this way, guarding your heart so you couldn’t feel the pain of losing someone you love again. A small price to pay to ensure that you didn’t harm anyone else, and the disappointed looks from your friends that you were still very much single were a small price to pay.

But you did feel alone.

Watching all your friends get married, settle down and have kids was harder when you knew you could never have those things. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. We always desire what we can’t have, after all.

“Let me set you up on one date and see how it goes,” Tatami’s annoying friend dipped her glass towards you from across the table, the champagne sloshing inside it, “I have this friend, not much of a looker, but he’s a quirk defence lawyer. It pays good money, and he’s looking to settle down–”

“It’s alright, I’m really not looking–” You felt awkward as each set of eyes around the table scrutinised you.

“Nonsense, he’d be perfect for you,” She continued, and you almost groaned as she pulled out her phone, “Let me text him now, I bet he could get you lunch in that new Sushi restaurant in the city.”

“Sorry, I just need the bathroom-” You almost shoved Tatami out of the booth as she stood up to let you out, her drink splashing as you tried to give her a reassuring smile before disappearing into the throng of people inside the busy nightclub. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find it back to your table at this point, but all you knew is you needed to get out.

The heat inside the club was suffocating, burning through you as you tried to find an exit. Weaving through the sea of people as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. Heaving a sigh as you noticed the sign to a smoking area as you followed the few people heading in the same direction. Stepping into the cool evening air is a welcome relief, the chill pricks against your skin as the heat slowly simmers down. Leaning against the rough brick wall as the back of your head knocks against it gently, closing your eyes to try and alleviate the irritation bubbling up inside you.

“Oi, you okay?” Your eyes opened into a glare to see the source of the voice, your nose scrunched in irritation at the blunt introduction.

A blond man stood a few feet away from you, cell phone in hand. The bright screen illuminated his face and cast a soft glow against his skin. You felt your heart betray you as it sped up at the sight of him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his piercing ruby gaze.

“M’fine.” You mumbled, not about to dump all your issues on a random stranger.

“You don’t look fine,” He shrugged, glancing back down at his phone as he typed against the screen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sneered, your defences up.

“You just look pissed,” He smirked, and it only irritated you more.

Who did this fucking asshole think he was?

“Well I’ve got a random stranger bothering me, so perhaps I am.”

The answer has the opposite effect you were expecting as the blond beside you gives you a wide grin, shaking his head.

“Gotta be better than the desperate pricks inside there?” He tilts his head towards the club and you’ve gotta admit he’s right. You’ve been standing beside him for a minute and he hasn’t tried to buy you a drink or grab your ass.

“Guess you’re right.” You exhale softly.

“Whatever it is can’t be that bad anyway,” He shrugs, “You’re too pretty to be frownin’.”

You hate the way your heart throbs when he calls you pretty, it's pathetic really.

“You come here alone?”

Does he really think you’re that much of a loser to come to a club by yourself?

‘No, my friends are still inside.”

“So why are you out here alone?” He raises a questioning brow.

“Why are you here?” You crossed your arms against your chest defensively, turning the question back on him like he wasn’t doing the exact same thing you were.

“Got a big promotion today,” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Probably just another step on the never-ending corporate ladder to him, “My friends got me out to celebrate.”

“Is that why you’re standing outside on your own?” You shoot back, unable to miss the way his nostrils flare in irritation.

“Could say the same to you, sweetheart.” He scoffs, “Who’re you here with?”

“My best friend,” You smile softly, “She’s getting married.”

“Not very rowdy for a hen party.”

“Oh yeah?” You watch the way his tongue darts out between his lips to wet them, “You're not exactly the life of the party yourself, are you?”

“Just wanna go home,” He rolled his eyes, “My friends turn into assholes when they’re drunk.”

“Mine can be assholes at any time.” You were already expecting texts in the morning trying to invite you on a blind date you didn’t even want to go on.

“Dya want me to call you a cab?” The guy held up his phone, “I can get you a separate one if you don’t wanna share. It ain’t safe to be out here alone.”

“Very considerate of you,” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your heart from doing a little flip, “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure looks like it,” He scoffed, “That why you’re gonna hide out here for the rest of the night?”

“Shut up,” You almost pouted, “I’ll go back in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked.

“What’s your name?” You asked as he slipped his phone back into his black jeans pocket.

“Bakugou.” He answered after pausing for a second, “What's yours?”

You mumble your name and can’t stop your cheeks from scalding when he responds with a soft “Pretty.”

Standing in a comfortable silence between the handsome stranger you watched groups of people slowly leaving the club, some moving on to their next destination for the night and others trying to stop their friends from throwing up before they climbed into their designated cabs.

“Gonna take fuckin’ ages to catch a cab now, I hate this part of the city.” Bakugou groans, running his palm down the length of his face.

“You could go back in and party,” You shrugged, “I’m sure your friends are missing you.”

“Yeah? After you, sweetheart—” Bakugou made a mock chivalrous movement with his arm to invite you to go back inside first which you rejected. Moving back to stare into the sea of people with a small smile on your face, “Didn’t think so.”

You stood in a comfortable silence beside him for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. One of the first times in a long time that you felt yourself as you both listened to the rowdy cheers in the background.

“Do you ever just want to say fuck it and disappear?” You surprised yourself by speaking your thoughts out loud.

“Go somewhere where no one knows who the fuck you are or what the fuck you’re doin’?” Bakugou responded simply.

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” He murmurs.

“It just hurts when it seems like everyone else has their perfect little lives while you’re just waiting on the sidelines,” You sigh. Maybe it was easier offloading everything onto a random stranger, it wasn’t as though you had anyone else you could talk to, “It’s just lonely.”

“You don’t have to be lonely.” He replied as though it was the most simple answer.”

“It’s not that easy,” You shake your head.

“Who said it ain’t that easy?” Bakugou turned to face you, his frame towering over you as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Cause I’m always lonely.” You felt hot, pearly tears beginning to clump in your lash line as you thought about the nights you spent at home alone while all your friends were with their partners. The life that you’d always dreamed about, but never have. For once you just wanted someone to be there for you, with you, “It's just how it is.”

“You don’t have to be though, sweetheart.” He whispers.

“Yeah?” You murmurs, “Do you feel alone too?”

“Fuck,” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he stands with you for a moment, “C’mere.”

Bakugou took your hand in his as he walked you through the crowd of people outside the rowdy venue and down a dark dingy alley that was illuminated in fierce neon lights from the various clubs dotted along the high street. You followed behind him obediently as your heart danced against your ribcage, astounded by your daring behaviour. He could be a murderer or a psychopath for all you knew– just another stranger out looking for his next victim. But for some reason (maybe it was the liquid courage coursing through your veins) you felt safe with him.

He moves his hands to your hips as he pushed you back against the cool brick wall, slotting himself between your parted thighs as he looks down at you with crimson eyes. The scent of liquor was sharp on his breath as his lips hovered close to you, warmth fanning your face as he leaned to kiss you.

“No kissing,” You gasped as you tilted your head just in time to avoid his lips as he pressed a wet, scorching kiss against your jawline.

If he had an issue with it, he didn’t voice it. The only sound was a rough grunt rumbling from the back of his throat as his lips continued to pepper sloppy kisses along your neck. Your fingers swiftly carded through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp as you tried to pull him closer. As though everything right now wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“Please,” You whine as you felt his teeth graze your pulse point, hips bucking as strong palms reached out to steady you. Keeping you still as he bit down on the supple skin hard, the sudden pain had you crying out for him as the ache blurred your vision. Or maybe it was the alcohol running through your system— warm lips suckling the fresh bite mark as you clench your thighs together in a feeble attempt to give your neglected clit some much-needed friction.

“Please, what?” He rasps against your neck, his tongue salving against the mark he’d left against your skin moments earlier.

This is the part where you should’ve stopped him. Making up an excuse about Tatami wondering where you are, or needing to get home and disappearing into the night. But you didn’t—

“Touch me,”

“You always beg random strange men to touch you, sweetheart?” He smirked, his hand reaching round to grab a handful of your ass, “Or am I just special?”

If only he knew how unlike you this really was, that no one had touched you so intimately in years. A thought that would’ve surely ruined the mood if Bakugou’s hand hadn’t slipped beneath your dress to cup your aching sex, the sensation had you gasping in surprise as the blonde smirked down at you.

“I’m just special, hah?” He answered his own question with a toothy grin, “Is that why your panties are dripping for me?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this insatiable. Evenings spent at home with your toys felt nothing like the way his warm hands felt against your skin, uncaring that you were in a dirty alleyway as you found yourself grinding into his touch.

“Fuck,” You murmur, your head knocking against the cold brick as Bakugou presses the heel of his palm against your clit through the sheer fabric. A heat blazes through his touch and scorches you as you writhe against him, desperate to create a delicious friction as he smirks down at how salacious you look at this moment.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, bet I’d slide right in.” He grunts, surprising himself at his blunt words. Blaming his audaciousness on the alcohol Sero and Denki had plied him with not long ago, the liquor flowing through his veins.

“Please,” It’s quite pathetic really, just how easily this man has turned you into this. You’d managed to go years without the touch of a man, and now you’d felt it for a moment you were unsure how you’d ever lived without it.

“Oh, fuck.” He chokes back a groan as he pulls your panties to the side, the skirt of your dress now shamelessly bunched around your waist as he notes the glossy strings of your essence that cling to the flimsy fabric of your panties, “This all for me?”

His fingers drag through your slick shamelessly, testing it on his fingers as he feels the heat radiating from your core. He spends little time circling your puffy clit before continuing lower, dipping one thick digit inside your tight hole. You wish at this moment that you’d worn slightly prettier panties than the plain black ones you wore right now, but if Bakugou had any issues with them he certainly didn’t seem to mind as he pumped his finger in and out of your core.

“Shit, you’re so sensitive.” He groans at the way your body responds to him, thrashing against him as he places more pressure on your clit.

“Please, Bakugou.” Your thighs quiver as he continues pumping his finger inside you, feeling the way your walls hungrily try to suck him in deeper, to take all he's got to give and more.

“Wish we weren’t in a dirty fuckin’ alley right now, princess. I’d have you sit on my face.” He groans, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him at his lewd words. You’d never wished something so bad in your life, tempted to tell him you didn’t mind if there was an audience if it meant having his lips wrapped around your clit.

“I don’t normally do this shit,” He groans, nuzzling your neck.

“Fuck strangers in alleys?” You tease as he gives you a playful smirk against your skin.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You groan as he adds another finger to join the first, stretching you open as your nails dig crescent-shaped moons into the base of his neck, leaving reddened indents against his skin as he growls from the slight twinge of pain. The sounds coming from your cunt are downright crude, echoing around the empty alley as he deliberately curls his fingers to press against the spongy spot inside you.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ dripping.” Bakugou grunts, watching your creamy slick dribble down his fingers and settle into his palm, his thumb pressing sloppy circles against your needy clit as you shamelessly rock your hips into his touch. Greedily searching for the orgasm that he’s more than happy to give to you.

“Look at you,” He goads, “You’re so fuckin’ easy. This sloppy ‘nd I’ve barely even touched you. Is this all it takes, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the heart to tell him how long it's been since anyone touched you like this, that no matter how hard you try to replicate his touch after today, you’ll probably never feel anything like this again. It’s like he’s tempting you to say something, to give him a witty comeback. But you can’t, not when his fingers are stroking you in all the right places, stretching you out in preparation for what you know is soon to come. You spread your thighs further apart to give him more access, a movement that has a wide grin from ear to ear appearing on his face. Standing on shaky heels as he ensures you stay upright with a palm on your waist.

He knows when he’s found it, like a lost ship searching for the bright glow of a lighthouse to guide it home. Pushing his calloused digits against the same spot that he knows will have you coming undone.

“Right there, huh baby?” He coos, “Yeah, I know, I know. Such a pretty pussy.”

You must look debauched now, your tongue lolling out as you pant pathetically with your head knocking against the cold brick wall. Allowing Bakugou– a complete stranger– to do as he so pleases with you.

“Oi, you listening to me?” He growls, and you can’t even remember what he’s just said. So lost in your own bliss as he continues to press the same persistent circles against your clit, “Course you ain’t, so desperate to cum, hm?’

“Please, Bakugou.” You mumble, breaking off into a salacious moan as he increases his pace eagerly trying to push you over the edge. He’s watching intently as you writhe against him, dangerously close to your release as you pulse around his digits.

“Fuck,” He almost snarls, the sound sending shockwaves direct to your needy cunt as you feel yourself vaulting into your bliss.

His fingers don’t stop their ministrations, even as you're crying out for him and gushing all over them. He instead, increases his pace, determined to have you completely intoxicated on him before he's even begun.

“You’re so goddamn noisy, ain’tcha?” He scoffs, finally pulling his digits from your spent cunt with a crude squelch. Unabashedly holding them up to his lips as he tastes you on his tongue, groaning as though he's tasted the sweetest ambrosia as he cleans you off his skin.

“Please, Bakugou.” You slur, legs shaky from the intense orgasm he’d gifted you as he pulls his fingers from his mouth.

Bakugou’s fingers are quick to unfasten his belt, letting the heavy buckle hang as he dipped his thumbs into the hem of his boxers to pull them down along with his jeans. Letting the material settle around the curve of his ass, just enough to free his aching cock. The sight of it had your thighs quivering in anticipation, the bulging head an angry pink colour as it oozed pre from the slit. Dribbling down the underside as the veins that forked along his girth made him appear even bigger, the length of it drooped down from the sheer weight as you wondered how on earth he could keep something that size hidden beneath his jeans.

“S’big,” You murmur, biting down on your lower lip as your cunt throbs in anticipation. Even his balls look huge, thick and weighty as you watch him give himself a teasing pump. His wrist rolling as he smears pre along the length. Ready to ignore how damp and filthy the floor looks in favour of dropping to your knees to worship his cock as it deserves.

“Think you can still manage it though, sweetheart.” He grins, “I know that pretty pussy’s good for it.”

You’re almost disappointed when he pulls a condom out from his wallet in his back pocket, seemingly you’ve found the only man in the entire bar with a conscience as he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. Lifting one of your thighs up to press against his hip as his cock slips between your folds, the fat tip catching against your entrance as he sucks in a breath.

“Don’t do that,” Bakugou groans, “You’ll make me wanna fuck you raw.”

“Do it then.” You challenge, wondering whether he really is like all the sleazy men your friends end up with.

“Another time, baby.” He glowers back, pushing the tip of the condom against the head of his cock as he slides it down his length.

The first push against your tight entrance has the air stolen from your lungs, a dull ache from the stretch in your core as his thick cock slowly breaches your sex.

“Holy fuck,” He grunts, his fingers dipping into the fat of your thigh as he holds it against his hip, “You’re so tight.”

He smirks at how desperate you are to feel him inside you, trying to drop yourself down on his length as he gives a few, shallow thrusts. Your fingers dig into his skin to try and get him to give you more, rewarding you by thrusting all the way inside. One sharp rut is all it takes to have him sheathed inside you, your walls moulding to the shape of his cock as he takes a moment to cherish the sensation of you wrapped around him.

“Told you I’d slide right in, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, slowly pulling back as he glances down between you to watch his cock slide out of your warm heat before you take every inch again.

There’s not much you can do in this position except stand there and take what Bakugou’s got to give, his rough thrusts push you against the wall as he almost sweeps you off your feet. His messy pubes tickle your clit with every forward motion as your essence leaks from your needy cunt and dribbles down his heavy balls.

His scent is intoxicating, the saccharine tartness has you tugging him closer. Burying your nose into his neck to smell the mixture of cologne and his natural scent. It’s almost comforting as you cling to him a little tighter, trying to commit it to memory so you can cherish it when you inevitably end up alone after tonight.

“Oh, god.” You cling to his broad shoulders, holding him tight as he sets a brutal pace. The fabric of your dress catches against the rough brick behind you as he leaves a trail of kisses against your cheek.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure rapidly building inside you as he continues thrusting into you with hard, sharp ruts of his hips. For once, the only thing you can think about is the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. The soothing ache from his cock stretching you open is almost cathartic as you let him use your body as he pleases, his rough hands groping at your exposed skin as he presses more scorching kisses against your jugular, sharp teeth nipping at your skin.

“Oh fuck, Bakugou.” You cry out, louder than intended as your toes curl from his harsh movement.

“Shit– You want us to get caught, sweetheart?” He groans, his palm reaching up to cover your mouth, “Can’t kiss you to shut’cha up, can I? So I’ll have to do this.”

And maybe it’s better this way, your lips warm against his palm as your lipstick smears against it. Otherwise, with the way he was looking down at you, you probably would’ve kissed him.

Your moans are muffled by Bakugou now, his pace unrelenting as he gives rough thrusts inside you. The lewd squelch vibrates around the empty alley and mingles with the loud thrum of bass that vibrates from inside the club. The loud bustle of voices only feet away as anyone could turn down and see you both in such a compromising position— not that it would be anything unusual. You certainly aren’t the first couple to fuck down this alley, if the empty condom wrappers and bottles are anything to go by, and you surely won’t be the last. But it’s been so unlike you to allow yourself to submit to your pleasure, to live a little.

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He groans, “Pussy feels so good. Can feel you clamping down around me.”

You whined against his palm, feeling the pleasure intensifying inside you as Bakugou continued his rough pace. Drunken patrons hollered boisterously as they left the bar causing him to shield your body with his broad back, taking his eyes off you to ensure they didn’t decide to come down the alleyway to interrupt you.

“Fuckin’ pricks.” Bakugou snarled under his breath as he stilled inside of you.

Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, hovering dangerously close to the edge of your climax as your cunt clenched around his thick cock. Causing Bakugou to suck a harsh breath through his teeth as he brought his attention back to you, the corner of his lip curling into a sly smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I didn’t forget about you,” He groaned, languidly moving inside you, “Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“Please,” You mumbled, muffled by his hand as he began rolling his hips, the bulging tip of his cock catching against the spongy spot inside you with each pronounced thrust.

“Fuck,” Bakugou snarls, moving his hand from your mouth in favour of slipping it between your bodies to thumb at your clit. The sensation has your knees buckling as your weight drops, no longer able to hold yourself up. But he’s strong, keeping you pinned between his body and the wall as he keeps his unrelenting pace, “Come on, pretty girl. I know you’re close, can feel you choking me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s embarrassing really, how one man— a stranger, can have you coming undone like this in public no less.

“So fuckin’ noisy, shit-” He grunts, his ruby gaze intense as he watches you come undone.

Bakugou steals your climax from you, his thumb is unrelenting against your clit as he feels your cunt clamp down around him. The loud cry that spills from your lips has him wincing as he hopes no one’s decided to look down the alley for a free show— something that would certainly make the front page this very morning. He eases you through your high, the white spots that dance across your vision make it feel like you’re seeing stars. A sea of constellations against your eyelids as you succumb to the pleasure.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” He groans, his face buried in the apex of your neck as he inhales deeply, committing your scent to memory as he cherishes the way your cunt clenches around his cock.

Bakugou pushes his fat cock inside you, as deep as he can go. Until his balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he feels the tremble of your cunt coming down from your high. His warm breath scorches your neck as he gives himself a moment's respite before picking up his pace once more, greedily using your body to chase his own release. His palm pushes your thigh up higher against his hip, changing the angle as the swollen tip of his cock finds what it was searching for. The euphoria already surging through your veins is enhanced by the attention from his cock knocking against the same spot inside you over, and over, and over.

“Think you can give me one more, sweet girl?” He rasps, watching your thick lashes flutter as tears blind your vision.

“I– can’t,” You manage to get out between broken breaths, unadulterated pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Yeah, you can.” He coos, his thumb persistent against your clit as he ruts into the same spot inside you, “C’mon, for me?”

The sensation building inside you is almost painful, still overwhelmed from your last intense climax the pleasure still bubbling to the surface as Bakugou is unrelenting. It’s too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” He groans, “Cum for me.”

Your body feels ungovernable as you succumb to the pleasure, a cry of his name tumbling from your lips that he doesn’t try to silence as he holds your quivering body. Preventing you from thrashing as he clings to you tightly, fingertips creating divots in your plush thigh.

“Oh fuck, there we go.” He snarls primally, nostrils flaring as he gives a few final shaky ruts of his hips, spilling his release inside the condom with a grunt as you both bask in the aftershocks of your release.

You’re certain if he let go of you now you’d collapse to the dirty floor, your legs no longer strong enough to support your weight as you cling to Bakugou. And he holds you back just as tight, dropping your sore thigh in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist as he remains buried inside your fluttering cunt.

He can still feel you spasming when he finally pulls out of you, sliding the condom off his spent cock as he shamelessly throws it onto the ground. Fixing your panties before pulling your dress back down around your thighs to hide your modesty before he moves to tuck his wet cock back inside his underwear and buttons his jeans.

You hadn’t expected him to hold you so tenderly, as though you were the world's most precious porcelain. But you both stand there for what feels like forever, basking in the afterglow as you sway side to side.

A large palm raised to cup your warm cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. Leaning forward as his eyes crossed to stare at your pouty lips, closing the distance slowly until you placed a palm on his chest.

“No kissing.” You repeated, turning your head as Bakugou pulled back, squinting at you.

“Still?” Bakugou grunts, “Why the no kissin’ bullshit?”

You couldn’t explain it to him, especially not after this. Wondering if it would be easier to make up a lie about your breath smelling or being nervous.

“I just can’t.” You sounded pathetic, internally wincing at the pitiful tone of your voice.

“Yeah, why?” He continued, “You got a boyfriend or somethin’?”

He actually looked hurt as he asked the question, his crimson gaze searching your eyes for any kind of deception as you shake your head no.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Husband?” Bakugou pushes as you shake your head again.

“No.”

“Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” He spits, slightly more harshly than intended.

“You won’t like it,”

I don’t want to know when you die. You think to yourself.

“Like fuck I won’t.” He scoffed, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

Bakugou caught you by surprise when he wrapped his palm around your neck, holding you so tenderly as he ducked his head forward. Catching you even more by surprise as he placed his chapped lips against yours, his tongue instantly slipping past your parted lips to delve deeper.

Fuck.

The first time you’ve actually felt something for someone this had to happen. The premonition played clearly behind your eyes as you felt Bakugou’s tongue mould against your own, a deep timber groan vibrating against your mouth as he lost himself in the kiss.

Of course, whatever higher power couldn’t just let you be happy for once, you had to see the fate in store for Bakugou Katsuki.

Pulling away from your lips as his tongue poked out to taste your lipgloss, the corner of his lips curled into a smug smirk as you stared up at him in complete horror. This wasn’t good—

You’d hoped that his death would be a peaceful one, dying a natural death surrounded by his loved ones at a ripe old age. But it was anything but, the terrifying vision now imprinted onto your memory. And you wished he never kissed you, not only so he wouldn’t die but so you wouldn’t have to see this vision every time you close your eyes.

With one kiss you’d sealed his fate.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.

You’d convinced yourself that as long as you didn’t kiss him, it would be okay— but now you’d seen the future you knew nothing would be okay.

Humans are such selfish creatures.

“Yeah, fuck.” You groaned.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Katsuki Bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #Bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #Katsuki Bakugou x you #bnha x you #mha x you

[dark-and-kawaii]

𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪: Tav/Reader has a child and Halsin hopes it’s his and not Astarion’s.

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: I’ve had this thought for a while now and decided I’d post it, I do apologize if it’s crappy due to not writing in a long while… HOWEVER, enjoy it the best that you can loves 💕

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Astarion x Tav/Reader, Jealous Halsin??

The Swiping your hair out of your face, Halsin watches you sleep soundly. He can see the sleeping child nestled in your arms, a handsome boy, while Halsins lingering fingers on the top of her head, he smiles. Surely this has to be his child, you had bedded him a few too many times for it not to be his child… His smile drops at the thought of it not being his, his heart shattering all over again. It feels as if someone reached into his chest to tug at his heart…

Sliding his fingers down from your head to where the child sleeps soundly, Halsin pulls back the red velvet blanket that hides most of the child’s features. Ah, and to his dismay he sees pale skin and features that could only belong to Astarion.

“He is my child, and it always will be my child.”

Scrunching his face, Astarion stares at the much larger elf that’s standing all too close to what is his.

“You need to leave this room, druid. She does not belong to you, nor does the child. She belongs to me, and so does the boy.”

Astarion always had a knack for rubbing salt in the wound, why couldn’t he have just disappeared in the underdark like the rest of those spawn?

Clenching his fist next to you, Halsin unclassps his fist and strokes your face one last time before turning to Astarion, “She does not belong to anyone, you do not own her. Tav is free to do whatever she chooses, and I’m for certain she wouldn’t mind my presence.”

Astarion laughs while kicking himself off the wall which he was leaning on, striding up to the wood elf, “She may not mind, but I do.” Standing as tall as he could in front of Halsin, Astarion stands his ground, “I’ll admit it we all had some fun in the past, but that’s over so do not test my patience. I’ve done unthinkable things to ensure the safety of my child and her.” Halsin’s insight is as keen as ever, looking into the pale elf’s eyes he can see that Astarion is lying, he never truly enjoyed Halsins company… At least, not when it involved you.

Halsin scoffs, “To ensure their safety? Or to ensure yourself that no one takes them away from you? Are you that self-conscious?”

Astarion’s face twists with annoyance, “Excuse me?! What did you just say?!”

Halsin can only smirk at Astarion’s newfound expression, “Unlike you, I’ve actually been at her side protecting her. I’ve seen the horrors she’s gone through, and I’ve been there each time to defend her and aid her in battles. Not to use her as some kind of shield like you did.”

“You wretched-“ Reaching for the dagger that sits comfortably on his belt, Astarion grips the blade's hilt, ready to spill blood.

As Halsins eyes glow like the golden sun he’s prepared to change and defend himself while Astarions veins pop from his hands due to clenching his dagger's hilt. They are ready for what is to come next; however the infant cradled in your arms stops them before any blood could be spilled.

Your son’s wailing is what breaks the tension, his arms reaching into the air looking for someone to cling to. Both men cease their actions, Astarion the first to fix himself so he can go to his son.

Reaching for his child, he makes sure not to disturb you while lifting his pale son, holding him close to his chest. It doesn’t take clear eyes to see that Astarion is still weary of holding such a fragile creature, however it sinks into Halsin that he was wrong to come here and disturb the couple's happy life. He had grown fond of you and deep down was hoping you’d share his forest with him along with a child of his own. This right now though, isn’t like him, it’s time he heads back with the orphans and those in need.

“Astarion, forgive my actions, for I do not know what overcame me. It was wrong of me to come here.”

The high elf’s facial expressions cause creases in his perfect skin, “Forgiven. Now just go.”

Nodding, Halsin takes his leave but not before he’s able to witness the infant tug on Astarions curls as a distressed Astarion cries out.

- 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝔀𝓲

#astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav #bg3 astarion #halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #baldur's gate 3 #halsin bg3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #dad astarion #baldurs gate x reader #gaming #baldurs gate tav #tav #tav x astarion #tav x halsin

[achillfrog]

Hey, so...

My rabbit, Sir Galahad, died last Friday. I’m trying to find a way to live with this, so. Here’s ten things about him.

1. His favourite “healthy” food was kale. He wasn’t allowed to have it all the time, coz it’s too high in... something. But every now and then he would get some. His favourite non-healthy food was sultanas; we would share a box every now and then.

2. He looked like a ball of fluff when he was sitting normally, but when he stretched out, he was so flat. I used to call him flat-rabbit when he did that. He could change his shape a lot, depending on how he was sitting.

3. He and I shared a room, and for the first few months, when I went to bed at night, he would jump up next to me and try to groom my hair. This was extremely painful, as he would dig his teeth into my scalp and drag them down. But I appreciated the thought.

4. He went nuts for food. He would get so excited, jumping around me, whenever he thought food was on offer. One time, he figured out how to climb onto my desk and helped himself to a few nibbles on some biscuits I had up there, which were definitely not for him.

5. I haven’t had a rabbit since I was like four, so the first time he flopped, I thought he’d died or passed out or something. I was frantically shaking him, trying to “wake” him up, while also googling madly trying to figure out what had happened. He was unconcerned.

6. He didn’t like to be picked up or held, but he loved pats, and would often snuggle next to me. If I was lucky, he would put his front feet on my leg while I rubbed his face. He liked it when I cupped his head between my hands and rubbed, like I was trying to start a fire or something. That was his favourite.

7. If he felt that he hadn’t gotten enough pats recently, he would charge at my ankles and grunt. As he weighed less than two kilos, this was not particularly intimidating, but it got the point across.

8. He had the softest fur I’ve ever felt. He was very meticulous about keeping it clean, though sometimes I had to help him shed. But it was so soft. A lot of people commented on it, when they met him. That and how sweet and friendly he was. Most people didn’t expect a rabbit to be so friendly.

9. While he did get scared sometimes, he was so brave. We’d be at the vets, and he’d poke his head up and look around. When the kids wanted to pet him, he didn’t shy away, even if they got too excited and made sudden moves. He was 100% willing to throw down with our 30 kilo labrador puppy (who wouldn’t hurt him, but did get a bit over-enthusiastic).

10. He trusted me from the beginning. From the moment I stepped into my front yard and saw him, where he’d likely been dumped by his previous owner, he seemed to know. I’ve seen videos of people trying to catch rabbits, even domestic rabbits, and they’re so hard to catch. But he let me walk right up to him, and pick him up, even though he hates being picked up. It was like he knew I loved him, and from the second I saw him I did. He would follow me around, when I let him free roam the house. Sometimes when I’d come into our room, he’d startle and hide. But then he’d see it was me, and come over for a pat.

I miss you Gali. My sweet boy. It hurts so much. I love you. I’m sorry. Our time together was so short. But know I love you.

Goodbye.

#animal #animal death