#i want to gauge my eyes out and pull out my hair why is it like this

[m0llygunn]

deathbed confessions (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: cold and flu season hits you hard but luckily you have your best friend eddie to take care of you. If the cold medicine makes you admit a few things... eddie sure isn't complaining.

contents: 18+, best friends to lovers, r is dramatically sick with a cold (talks about dying but it's just drama), fluff idk a/n: guys i am so sick help me i had to lay on the bathroom floor after braving a shower because i thought i was gonna die (but also i wrote this so maybe im ok) wc: 4.4k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Holy shit, did Halloween come early?” Eddie snickers from the door of your room.

All you can muster up is a low groan and that alone makes you feel like your head is on the brink of explosion. 

“Jesus, you’re really sick, huh?” he says with the huff of a laugh.

You answer with another groan. Yes. You are 'really sick'.

“Can I do something to help?” he replies, the first hint of empathy appearing in his voice.

“Put me out—” you interrupt yourself with a sniffle followed by a phlegmy cough. “—out of my misery.”

You were supposed to be seeing some double feature with Eddie tonight but yesterday, right before bed, you felt the slightest of tickles in your throat. By morning you were the living dead with everything from your big toe to your forehead aching in one way or another. You called Eddie and before you could even mention that you were sick, he knew from your stuffed up voice. 

No matter how many times you told him you’d be fine he was strangely insistent in checking on you at the very least. By the end of the call he’d quickly worn you down and you told him that he has the spare key and he can do whatever he wants but if he gets sick that's his fault— a little mean but arguing was the last thing you felt like doing.

From the time you hung up to now— which has only been a handful of hours, you’ve gotten substantially worse. Earth shatteringly worse. So terribly worse that the simple task of opening your eyes has been too much effort. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and your lungs are just begging for salvation. That’s why when Eddie called twenty minutes ago letting you know he was on his way you told him no. It would have been wise if he listened to you but instead he replied ‘too bad’ and abruptly hung up the phone. 

Cut to twenty minutes later he was at your door, letting himself in. He was willingly walking into his very own death sentence. He clearly thought it was more of a joke than anything.

You hear Eddie’s tell-tale gait as he walks further into your room. You assume that he’s standing over your bed, maybe a hand on the back of his neck, maybe a hand on his hip. Mustering the efforts to confirm your suspicions would take too much of your very limited energy so you continuing laying in your bed, not doing as much as opening an eye.

You hear the ruffle of his hair and he definitely is rubbing the back of his neck as he gauges what to do. 

“So…do you want, like, medicine then?” he asks. 

“A gun,” you croak, earning a deep belly laugh from Eddie.

“At least your humour’s still intact, that’s good to know,” he says, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

You try to shuffle over to make room for him, but that effort alone makes you wince.

“Call an ambulance,” you whine, sniffling pathetically. 

“Really?” he asks, a genuine nervousness creeping into his voice. You feel his hand tug at the blanket you’ve cocooned yourself in, revealing your face for him to see. If you were more cognizant maybe you’d care about Eddie seeing you like this, but you’re too far gone to think about that. 

“No,” you answer, nodding your head up and down in contrast to your answer, earning a huff of relief from Eddie. 

The blanket slackens from his pull and the bed dips deeper as he leans in further to get a better look at you. Once again, if you were more cognizant you’d probably rather he didn’t, but you wouldn’t have the will to fight it anyways.

“Did you take anything?” he asks. 

“It’s been a few hours.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, whipped up a quick 4 course meal earlier, michelin approved of course,” you mumble. You contemplate cracking an eye open to see his reaction but you don’t. 

“Right, so no food.” 

“No, surprisingly not that hungry when you’re on your deathbed,” you say, sniffling.

“Tell me you’ve at least had water,” he says and from his tone you know that he already knows the answer. 

“I had water until the bottle was empty, then I decided I’d rather succumb to death than get out of bed,”

“Funny, funny girl,” he says dryly, obviously not impressed by your answers. 

“Tombstone quote,” you say weakly, hoping that Eddie gets what you mean. He laughs softly and you consider that enough of a success. 

You hear the slightest bit of shuffling, not Eddie getting up but more like he’s looking around your room. Whatever state it’s in, you couldn’t even work up the courage to care. 

“Do you want a movie on or something?” he asks, breaking the lull in conversation. 

“Would you do that?” you ask, tilting your face towards him despite not opening your eyes. 

“Oh yeah. I’m giving you the mortally ill special— the deathbed works, if you will,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. You do your best to smile back but it’s weak and probably looks more like a grimace. 

You feel shuffling before the bed rises from Eddie standing.

“Okay, so I’m gonna get you medicine first. Then movie, food, and whatever else, deal?”

Your lower lip pouts out appreciatively for the boy you’ve called your best friend for forever now. If you weren’t deathly ill, you’d kiss him.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you whisper, voice getting caught in your throat for an entirely different reason than your cold this time. 

He mumbles back some version of ‘don’t worry about it’ before he’s off, leaving you in the quiet of your room with only your breathing, coughing, and sniffling breaking the silence. It’s barely a few minutes before you hear his footsteps and the edge of your bed dips again. 

“This is what you took right? The cold and flu medicine?”

“Mhm” you hum.

“You have nasal congestion?”

You sniffle loudly and nod.

“Right. Nasal pain, sinus congestion, and sinus pain?”

You hum again, catching onto the fact that he’s reading the symptoms off of the box. 

“Chest congestion?”

Weakly you swat your hand out trying to find Eddie. When you do, you give him the weakest of taps. “Too many questions,” you muster. 

“Well, I know you’re joking about dying but I don’t want to actually kill you,” he says. You hum again.

You hear him fumbling with the cardboard before fumbling with the plastic pill packaging.

“Do you wanna sit up?” he asks.

“I want to die,”

“Well you can’t do that so I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?”

Eddie starts tugging at the blanket and you let your weakened limbs go limp, undoubtedly making the task much harder for him but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he pulls you up by your underarms, propping you up against your headboard. 

When you feel his cool hands on your forehead, pushing your hair back and out of your face, you open your eyes for the first time since Eddie got here. 

“There she is,” he laughs lightly, still pushing back the disheveled mess that is your hair.

“Your hands feel nice,” you whisper, focusing on the coolness on your skin. Before you have a chance to really absorb the relief of his hands on your skin, he pulls away, grabbing for the water he had set down on your bedside table. 

“Yeah, you’re really hot,” he replies, passing the water to you.

“Tombstone quote,” you say, catching his eye, making him laugh again. With a shaky hand, you take the water.

“Funny and hot, that’s a killer deal.” He hands you the little cold and flu pill and you place it in your mouth, swallowing it down with small sips of the cold water that feels like ice going down your throat. 

You redirect your gaze to Eddie, “you’re gonna get sick, that’s the real killer here,” you say. 

“I’ll be fine,”

“You don’t want this cold, trust me,” you say, taking another sip of water before holding it out to Eddie. 

“I’ll be fine,” he repeats as he takes the water, putting it back on your bedside table. 

You nod. You appreciate Eddie’s help more than anything. Fending for yourself wasn’t exactly going so well— clearly.

“You had this with your other stuff, do you want it?” he asks, holding up the vicks vapor rub.

When you felt the cold coming on you went to the pharmacy and picked up a few things just in case. The vapor rub was on sale and you bought it on a whim but haven’t tried it yet.

“Do you think it really works?”

“Wayne used to put it on me, I guess it does?”

“Where do you put it?”

“On your chest or back,” he answers, looking at the fine print of the packaging. “Yeah, it says chest, throat, and back.”

You open your mouth to reply but instead feel the creeping up of the tickling in your throat. Turning the other way, you do your best to not cough all over Eddie. Sucking in a deep breath, you only trigger another cough that divulges into one of many coughing attacks that you’ve had today. When you’re finally done, you drop your head to the back of the headboard in defeat. 

“C’mon, let’s try it on your back for now,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder encouraging you to lean forward. You move how he wants you without protest.

“I’m just gonna lift up your shirt a bit, okay?” he says, you nod but he pauses, fingers just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Eddie, with the way I’m feeling, you could see me butt ass naked right now and I could not care less,” you say. 

He snorts a laugh before his cool fingers trail up your spine giving you tingles that make you shiver. “Sorry,” he hums but you shake your head. His hand makes contact with your upper back, rubbing the ointment on your skin and it honestly feels incredibly soothing. Whether it’s the rub or the physical contact, you’re not sure, but you’re not questioning it either.

The noise that comes out of you could have been a moan had you not been congested. Instead it comes out like a low, stuffed up groan— not unlike a movie zombie. 

Eddie rubs a few more circles on your back before his hand travels back down your spine. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, helping you sit back up straight.

“So fucking good and like I need you to rub my back like that again,” you say, resting your head back against the headboard. Maybe you put a little too much conviction in your words but that truly felt amazing.

The room is silent and you blink open your eyes to see Eddie holding the tub of rub in his hands, paused halfway through closing it. It takes a moment for him to look up at you but when he does, he smiles softly.

“What movie do you wanna watch?”

Had you not been distracted by your sickness, you might have noticed the faintness of a blush spreading across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks. Coughing and forcing air back into your lungs takes up every ounce of your consciousness though, so you don’t notice. 

You shrug your shoulder taking a deep breath, “anything, I’ll probably pass out from the medicine anyways,” you reply, turning away again to cough. 

Eddie hums before he’s moving to your dresser opposite your bed, angling the TV for you to see it better. 

“Sixteen Candles, Children of the Corn, Gremlins, Teen Wolf?” he says, listing off the titles of the different tapes you have sprawled next to the vcr. 

“Any.” 

“Gremlins seems kind of relevant,” he says, pulling open the clamshell box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. Eddie turns to you, smirk spreading across his lips.

“Nothing,” he sings lightly. He turns away from you, pushing the tape into the player and then pressing the combination of buttons to get it working. 

“You better not be implying that I look like a gremlin because—” you interrupt yourself with another cough that quickly divulges into yet another coughing fit— worse than the last. 

With each cough being so strong it makes your head pound. You don’t notice Eddie crossing your room or him settling back on the edge of your bed. You only notice his presence when he’s encouraging you forward, hand rubbing your back again. 

When your coughing finally calms down enough for you to take a good breath, Eddie brings the glass of water up for you to take a sip. You take the cup in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. At the same time, Eddie never fully lets go of the cup, making sure it doesn’t spill. You take a drink, nodding when you’re done and he sets it back down, hand still running up and down your back. 

“It’s probably just the rub working, getting all that nasty stuff out,” he says softly. 

You nod again, letting your head fall to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably not the smartest idea to be so close to him because you're pretty much sentencing him to his demise, but with how terrible you feel you’re desperate for anything to make it better— and right now the only thing making anything better is Eddie. 

“The medicine’ll kick in any minute and you’ll feel much better, okay? I’ll go get you something to eat and then I can rub your back some more. How’s that sound?” he says softly, brushing the edge of your face with his chin as he tilts his face downwards towards yours. 

Your lower lip pouts out again and you feel your eyes water behind your closed lids. Maybe you were already hyper emotional from feeling so sick, but Eddie being so sweet is also doing a number on you.

“Sounds really nice,” you whisper, sucking in a breath.

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, hand switching from rubbing up and down your back to rubbing circles at the top of your back. “I’ll take care of you, I got you.”

Before the tears in your eyes have a chance to breach your waterline, Eddie’s shifting beside you, leaning you back against the headboard with the promise of being quick while he gets you food. Only once he’s gone and you’re left alone in your room do you notice Gremlins has already started playing. Opening your eyes, you spare a few glances at the screen that distract you from your teary eyed state.

As Eddie promised, he was pretty quick in his return. You could hear him the whole time, kitchen utensils clanking and cupboard doors closing. Maybe all concept of time is lost on you right now, but it seemed like barely any time had passed before he was taking slow, careful steps back towards your room.

“Alright— got that soup you like, got crackers, and got you some juice,” Eddie announces as he situates the dishware on your bedside table. “I even made sure not to warm the soup too much so you can eat it right away,” he says.

Eyes closed again, you don’t know what you expected him to do but him manhandling you took you by surprise. A hand slid behind your back and another under your upper thighs, he was sliding you right over on the mattress.

“Just giving myself some space here,” he says absentmindedly as he fixes your blanket around you. He quickly settles in next to you before grabbing the sleeve of crackers and settling them in front of you and grabbing the bowl of soup.

Sitting with his legs stretched out next to yours, you let your head dip to his shoulder again, this time like a silent thank you where you cozy your head against him, not unlike a cat.

“For the record, you’re more like Gizmo,” he says, a tease intruding in his voice.

“Hm?” you hum questioningly.

“You don’t look like a gremlin, you’re cute like Gizmo,” he says.

You sink your face further into the crook of Eddie's shoulder, lip jetting out once more. He’s done nothing more than call you a cute gremlin rather than an evil gremlin, yet you feel yourself turning misty eyed yet again. This time you squeeze your eyes shut, closing them on purpose, hiding your sickness induced emotions.

“Soups gonna get cold,” Eddie says, twisting his neck to look at you again. “C’mon, it’ll be better for you if you eat it warm,” he says, using his free arm to move you.

Once you’re finally propped up again in an appropriate position to eat, you feel Eddie’s hand on your cheek— no doubt becoming aware of your tears.

“You okay?” he asks softly, thumb rubbing under your cheek.

“You’re being so nice to me,” you explain, sniffling back your need to cry.

“Just taking care of you. Want you to feel better,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet. 

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, just gotta eat your soup, okay Gizmo?” Eddie says, making you snort out a snotty laugh before sucking it all back in with an apology that he quickly dismisses. 

You take a few breaths, getting your tears under control. Shifting your focus to the soup, Eddie holds the bowl close to you while you slowly feed yourself spoonful after spoonful. 

“Crackers?” Eddie offers.

“Maybe one.”

“How ‘bout two?” he replies, peeling back the plastic and pulling two out for you. You nod softly before taking them from him. 

You feel yourself running out of energy and it’s exasperating that all it took was lifting a spoon to your lips a measly few times. When you let the crackers sit in your lap for too long, Eddie turns to look at you, resting the bowl of soup down in his lap. 

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Tired,” you answer. 

“Just finish those and you can be done, okay?” he says, meeting your gaze. You shake your head.

“Can’t,” you reply.

“You can,” he says, turning his torso to put the bowl of soup on the table. He turns back around, reaching for the crackers in your hand. “Know you can,” he repeats, bringing the crackers to your lips.

“Eddie—” you try to protest.

“Bite,” he says, cutting you off and nudging the cracker into your mouth. 

You bite, giving into him. It feels weird being hand fed. It’s probably even weirder when two bites in you close your eyes in an effort to conserve your energy. Regardless, Eddie doesn’t say anything besides positive affirmations about how good you’re doing which you really, really appreciate. 

“How about you drink some of this,” he says, reaching for the glass of juice as you chew the last bite of cracker. “Then I’ll help you lay down and I can rub your back s’more?”

“You don’t have to if you wanna go home, you've been here a long time,” you say, swallowing the dryness of the cracker down. 

Eddie lifts the cup of juice to your lips, tipping it back for you to sip at. When you take more than a few drinks, you lift a hand lightly pushing the cup away. Blinking your eyes open you look at Eddie as he returns the cup to sit with the other dishware on your bedside table. 

“I’m serious, Eddie. You can go home if you want,”

“Don’t want to,”

“You’re gonna be— you interrupt yourself with a yawn this time. “—gonna be so sick,” you say groggily.

“Just let me cuddle you, you know you want it,” he says, a teasing tone hinting in his voice. You blink open your eyes again to see a genuine smile as he looks at you—one that shouldn’t be there considering how gross you feel and are sure you look. Despite that, it’s there and you do want cuddles so you nod softly, making a weak, sad attempt at getting closer to Eddie.

Eddie meets your attempt by gently pulling you down the mattress. He maneuvers you to have your head resting on his chest while his arm snakes around you, rubbing circles on your back. With the sleepiness settling in and your cold symptoms dialing back due to the medicine, you can’t help but hum happily. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says quietly.

It feels beyond good. Good is an understatement. Having him take care of you like this is making you feel mushy and only highlights your feelings for Eddie. In combination with your partially delusionally, sleepy state the only thing on your mind is expressing your feelings, all of them true no matter how far out of it you are at this point. 

“Eddie, if I die, just know that I love you,” you mutter into the fabric of his shirt. 

“That’s just the cold medicine talking,” Eddie laughs softly. You find the energy to shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, love you,” you repeat. “Love you so much.”

It’s faint, maybe he whispered it or maybe it’s the fact that you were slipping into sleep but you heard it. 

“I love you too,” he says quietly. 

As if those words gave you a short lived second life, it had you perking up, desperately needing to clarify just in case he didn’t understand. 

“But Eddie I love you as my best friend but also more than that— I love you so much.”

He leaves you in silence but you don’t have the clear consciousness to overthink it, you just keep talking.

“I don’t even care if you don’t like me like that, I love you Eddie.”

“I love you too. Love you a lot, but I think we should talk about this when you’re not tired and on cold medicine, okay?” he whispers softly. 

As your thoughts start to drift, you focus on the first half of Eddie's sentiment. He loves you— and he loves you a lot. With that on your mind, intermixed with the comforting friction of his hand on your back, you fall into the deepest and most comfortable sleep of your life despite being so sick. Eddie loves you. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arguably, the best thing that came out of your cold was your confession. It was bound to happen eventually and although it did sort of seem like a deathbed confession at the time, it was genuine— that of which you clarified for Eddie. To your fortune, he also clarified that his reply was true as well. Beyond that, you were still sick and neither of you had done much more than just sharing those little words that one night. So yes, arguably, that's the best thing that came out of your sickly state; however, in your opinion, you think the best thing that happened was that you got Eddie sick too. 

It was less than a day after you started feeling normal again that Eddie was running a fever. He ended up staying at your place for the majority of your sickness but he had left once to get some things for himself. Since he had his stuff here already, you offered for him to stay over at yours while you returned the favor of playing doctor. 

Eddie took on a much different position as a sick person than you did. Undeniably, you both were on the dramatic end of things but while your cynical humour came out during your time being sick, Eddie was much different in how expressed himself.

Normally, a very touchy feely person, his affectionate side heightened tenfold while he was sick. He was all grabby hands, wanting you closer to him. Maybe it was because the two of you had broken the touch barrier while you were sick or maybe Eddie just turned into a touch deprived baby when he was sick, you’ll never know, but you didn’t deny him of the cuddles that you so dearly appreciated while you were under the weather. 

The most interesting part— which shouldn't have came as a surprise, was that not only did he appreciate holding you, but he intensely appreciated you holding him, whether that be hands scratching his head as he rested it on your stomach, or your arms wrapped around him from behind making him the little spoon. Additionally, he was also incredibly affectionate with his words, constantly telling you how grateful he was for you and how much he appreciated you. 

Your favourite confession came late one night, probably at the peak of his sickness. Fairly similar to your deathbed confession, but a moment to remember regardless.

You had just finished helping him eat, similar to how he had done for you, and were cuddling with him, smoothing your hands over his side as he rested his head on your chest. 

The medicine was kicking in, making him drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he let sleep take him over. He had kept babbling random thoughts but as he got more and more tired he was eventually reduced to heavy breaths. That was, until he titled his face up to yours. You looked down at him, meeting his sleepy eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you replied, smiling.

“But I love you so much,” he said, voice returning to its babbling cadence. “Love you so much I wanna kiss you and love you and—” his babbling started to slowly fade as his head got heavier on your chest. You couldn’t help but laugh softly as your heart swelled.

You smoothed a hand over his face, brushing back his hair as you stared at him with nothing but love for your very, very sick boy. Like you had given him a second wind, his babbling started up again. 

“Wanna marry you. Love you so much wanna marry you,” he said, words slurring.

“Think you’ll have to ask me on a date first, cutie,” you replied quietly, partially under the impression that he was already asleep. 

“I will. Love you so much, I will,” he mumbled and with that, he was out like a light. 

From there, the rest was history. If curious minds were to inquire, you would say that Eddie’s always been very good at keeping his promises, and mindless babbling or not, he meant every word that he confessed in his sickly, drowsy state. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

thank you! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson friends to lovers

[greatooglymooglyyy]

It's Never Over (C. S.)

contains: 2nd person pov, angst, somewhat toxic relationship, verbal argument, relationship issues, kissing, smut (softdom!chris), overstimulation, angry/make up sex, unprotected sex, 3.4k words

a/n: hi friends. this is apart of the triple threat event sooo don't forget to go see my babies @luv4kozume and @rootbeerworshiper for two more fics for your smutty needs. j will be posting in one hour and sienna is an hour after that.

masterlist

Maybe we’re too young.

The thought bounces around your head uncontrollably as you watch Chris move silently through the kitchen from your perch on the counter. You haven’t been home long- maybe 10 minutes- but after the day you’ve had, the silence feels like a jab.

“So,” you start, raising your eyebrow as he pulls out a drink and leans against the counter across from you. “How do you think the pictures will turn out?”

He gives you a tired look, seemingly trying to gauge whether your question is a trap. “I actually really fucked with it. It’s a new look for us.”

You two had spent the entire day on the set of a photo and promo shoot for Fresh Love’s new line of products. He was right about it being a new look and he’d gone all out for the launch; the shoot had been completely 90s-themed to match the vibe of the products and he’d recruited some influencers to model. 

Not that you were keeping track or anything, but the original idea had been yours and you’d put countless hours in helping him execute it. That isn’t to say you minded at all... at least not until today.

“I’m glad it’s exactly how you envisioned it.” You say, testing the waters unsure if you wanted to raise the issue again.

But Chris takes the bait and groans. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t even say anything, Chris. But I just don’t understand why my input stops being taken seriously as soon as other people are around.”

“Did you ever stop and consider that maybe my photoshoot wasn’t the place for you to start a random ass argument?” 

“I wasn’t trying to start one. And my bad, I didn’t realize you stopped being my boyfriend when you walked on a set.” Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, irritation at the situation resurfacing.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. “I don’t but it’d be cool if my girlfriend supported me on days like this instead of adding more stress.”

Your eyes grow wide and you look around dramatically. “I’m sorry? Is that not all I do? Planning with you. Pitching ideas. Running around finding any little thing I can do to help? You wouldn’t even have the new product ideas without me.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “And I’m grateful, baby. You know I am. I’m not saying you’re not important to me. I’m saying it can’t always be about you.”

“Can it sometimes be about me?” You question, feeling like you’re losing your mind. “I would never have an entire photoshoot full of influencers and not even ask you to join. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Oh my-” He laughs out harshly, turning away for a second and then turning back. “I knew that’s what this was about. The team wanted people with over a million, not me-”

“And who owns Fresh Love, Chris? Don’t act like you have no control.”

“I own it, but it’s not just me who runs it. How stupid would I be if I hired a marketing team and didn't fucking listen to them?” His voice raises slightly and he shakes his head, attempting to regain composure.

“Probably as stupid as I looked pulling up to the set and looking for hair and makeup. You should have told me.” With that you slide off of the counter, intending to let the argument die there and go to bed but he follows behind you. 

“How are you mad at me because you assumed you were modeling? I never said that. I invited you to the set like I do every time because You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” He claps to emphasize his points and you spin to glare at him.

 

“I’m not just your girlfriend, Chris. I work hard on my content just like you.” You say defensively. The decision to even begin posting was his idea so you can’t believe how unsupported you feel.

“And I'm so proud of you. You know I am.” He says with sincerity, bringing a hand to his chest. “But you aren’t..." His sentence trails off and he gives you an uncomfortable look.

“What?” You challenge, knowing exactly where this is going. “Say it. Tell me how little I matter since I haven’t hit the right numbers yet.”

He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s business. And they asked for people with reach. What did you want me to do?”

“Fight for me, Chris. That’s what I expected you to do.” You turn and head over to your dresser, snatching out your favorite oversized t-shirt and changing quickly.

Chris leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you intensely until you finally face him with a scowl. “Stop following me.”

“I just can’t believe this is how you want to end this night. Why can’t you celebrate this win with me?” He asks, annoyance coating his tone. 

“Go celebrate with Brooke. You two looked comfy today.” You suggest as you pass him to head into the bathroom.

Behind you, he barks out a laugh of disbelief before whispering something under his breath. You don’t even bother asking him to speak up, grabbing your makeup remover instead.

“So what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You're gonna start throwing accusations at me now?” He sounds absolutely over the conversation but won’t walk away to cool off. It’s a flaw you have in common.

“Just saying Addison has twice the followers as her but somehow you put her centerstage. I mean, I thought this was a numbers game.” You say, refusing to look over at him as you lather your face wash.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s not like you actually believe Chris would ever cheat on you. One thing Chris has always been is loyal to a fault. But right now you're itching for a reaction. No matter how you have to get it. 

“You have to be fucking kidding.” He says, reacting exactly like you expected him to. “When the fuck would I be cheating on you?” 

“How am I supposed to know? People make time for what’s important to them.” You say, letting your voice take on a nonchalant tone as you pat your face dry.

“That’s so fucking stupid and you know it. Look, I’m sorry you’re not where you want to be in your career but don’t take it out on me.” He grinds out, his voice thick with distaste.

You spin to face him, your eyebrows high. There it is. At least he finally said it. “Wow, Chris. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Y/N.” He says, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do you think I could buy a shoutout, Mr. Six Mill? Only if you have time, of course.” You drawl, pressing your hands together into a begging gesture.

“Tell me what you want to hear, baby. Tell me what I need to say to end this conversation.” He says, stepping toward you but you take a step back instead, leaning against the sink. 

“How about an apology? How about recognizing that I worked hard on this launch too and deserved to be a part of it? Anything except this condescending bullshit.”

He drops to his knees dramatically, looking up at you with a faux pleading look on his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”

You shake your head and curl your lip up in disgust. “Yeah. ‘Cause everything’s a joke, right?”

Chris blows out a huff of irritation and stands up, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and spinning you around to face the mirror. He presses himself into your back and meets your eye in the reflection as he runs his hands up and down your body. “Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?”

Your gaze drops to his hands, watching as he slowly and methodically slides up your oversized t-shirt and rubs teasingly at your inner thighs.

"You know I love you." He whispers, his grip tightening as he trails higher, grazing your heat before dipping his hands back down.

“Do you?” You question childishly, heat flooding your body as his hands travel your skin. He leans in close, the cool breath of his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me prove how much.”

Part of you wants to snatch away from him and refuse to reward his arrogance. But there is something so erotic about the way his eyes stay locked on yours as he moves in closer to where you need him most. Without your permission your body melts into his, the muscle memory from every other time he’s made you feel this way activating naturally. 

You turn your head to look at him full-on instead of the reflection, the slight flush on his face from the arguing turning you on even more. “Nah. Prove how much you need me.”

If Chris is at all surprised by your demand, he doesn’t show it. He just walks you closer to the sink and spins you around by the waist to face him. His blue eyes are so coated with lust and frustration they seem almost brown under the harsh bathroom lighting.

He lifts you onto the counter, pausing only for the barest of seconds before crashing his lips against yours. The sudden movement pushes the back of your head into the mirror but you barely feel it over the heat and pressure of his kiss. 

His hand travels under your shirt, his fingertips grazing your nipple with a frustratingly delicate touch that has you groaning into his mouth. You pull away, drawing a shudder out of him when you lightly nip his bottom lip as you do. 

“Stop wasting my time.” You demand, your hands fiddling with the bottom of his shirt in a hint for him to take it off. 

He does with a roll of his eyes before he comes back, placing a firm hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. “You can drop the attitude now. You know you want this just as much as I do.”

Pain flashes through you again briefly as you consider the possibility that this is the only thing you two will ever agree on wanting but you push it down and lean in to run a tongue over his collarbone. “Shut up and prove it like you said you would.”

A smirk grows across his face before he nods and kneels down slowly, pushing open your legs and roughly snatching off your thin underwear. Pushing your legs open wider, he buries his face in your inner thighs and peppers lingering kisses on them as he trails closer to your heat.  

When he finally reaches it, it’s clear he’s not done taking his time as he runs his tongue through your folds purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You push at his shoulders in annoyance and he chuckles darkly, only making your wetness grow despite yourself.

The first kiss he places on your clit is slow and shallow before he leans back to find your eyes. “I always forget how fucking pretty you are.” He says as he smooths a thumb over you before diving back in with a new urgency.

There’s reverence in the way his tongue circles your clit, the movements somehow both precise and desperate. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself grinding your hips up to chase your pleasure, pathetic whimpers falling from your lips.

You don’t need to glance down to feel his eyes on you, baby blue and laser-focused as he peers up to gauge your reaction, alternating expertly between sucking and flicking his tongue. But instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you press your fist into your mouth and work to keep your face a mask. You’re determined to grant him as little praise as possible, leftover anger spurring on your pettiness. 

Smiling against your core at the challenge, he readjusts his hold on you, slinging one of your legs lazily onto his shoulder before locking his arms around your thighs to keep you still. He pulls fully away and you finally snap your eyes to his, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“I can do this all night and still make sure you never come. Stop playing with me.” His voice is like velvet as he warns you, not even pausing for your response before he buries himself back in. He taps your leg, signaling for you to hold it before he readjusts to add his fingers, swirling them around teasingly before pumping them inside to stretch you out.

All of your pride flies out the window as he fucks into you with his fingers, finding your g spot easily and caressing it. Flinging your head from side to side and calling his name wildly, you feel a familiar pressure building inside of you. “Please, Chris.” You beg as you tangle your hands into his hair.

His pace only increases when he realizes you are close, his moans against your clit sending vibrations through your body and driving you even crazier. You tug his hair lightly as your body tightens and grind your hips against his fingers to ride out your orgasm. 

Chris pauses and removes his fingers slowly before placing one last kiss on your throbbing heat. He comes up with his breathing unsteady and a look of pure triumph on his face as he sucks his fingers into his mouth. 

Your legs are still trembling slightly as you slide off of the counter and pull his face down to yours. This kiss feels different, like coming home, and you can tell he feels the same. He kisses you back like he loves you like the taste of you is air and he’s suffocating. 

It’s been a while since you two were desperate enough to leave marks on each other’s skin but he does tonight. And you let him without a single thought to the effort of covering them up, too focused on his tongue working over the sweet spots of your neck.

You reach down fumbling with his belt impatiently as your breathing goes ragged, and free his hardened length, stroking it slowly.

His lips freeze on your throat as he thrusts into your hand before he yanks away and spins you back around, pressing his palm into your back and kicking your feet apart to give him access.

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance, slipping down further to tease your clit briefly, your only warning before he slides inside of you. A cry tears out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, bottoming out. 

You’re still soaked from your orgasm but as he stretches you out around him, you feel yourself coat him even more and he groans. “My pretty girl. Best fucking feeling in the world.” He pushes your shirt further up your back, his fingertips trailing your spine lightly as he continues to thrust into you.

Squirming with a need for him to go faster, you push your hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper and making you both curse. He takes the hint, wrapping his hand tightly around your shirt for leverage before setting a brutal rough pace.

Your vision starts to blur so you close them as you try to hold on to the counter for stability. With your eyes squeezed tightly closed, it’s almost easy to pretend the tears swelling up are from the intensity of the moment and not from everything that came before. 

Because it’s nothing if not intense, your stomach pressing into the sink as he slams inside of you roughly. His free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white and he keeps up his insane pace. His name slips from your mouth as a moan, seeming to spur him on as he increases his tempo even more.

“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” The sound of his voice barely breaks through your fucked out trance and you lift your head to see him through the mirror. 

The sight of him almost pushes you right over the edge immediately and you watch him in a sort of fascination. The way his muscles strain with his movement, his slightly open mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip. But it’s the wink he throws you when he notices you watching that has you contracting around him for the second time tonight.

This orgasm tears through you like a wave and you lose all control as Chris fucks you through it, never missing a stroke. If you had it in you to be embarrassed right now, you would be mortified at the things you say at this moment. Making promises, calling him names you never thought you’d utter, telling him exactly who you belong to.

When you come down, Chris’ pace slows and he pulls you up to face him. He watches you tenderly before he lifts the shirt from over your head and kisses you deeply.

He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down at the center of the bed, climbing on top of you slowly.

He enters you again with a gasp and you bring your mouth up to his to swallow it, his hand traveling up to lightly circle your neck. You moan in contentment and he makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat as he begins to thrust.

His strokes are slow and as deep as he can make them, his hands roaming your body as his tongue explores your mouth. There’s emotion laced in every snap of his hip and you know him well enough to understand every message. I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. 

Pleasure coils around you as his thumb finds your clit and circles it, coaxing you closer to the finish line as he drops his head near your ear. His hips stuttering tell you he’s close and you bring your mouth up to his ear to whisper. “Come for me.” 

He groans loudly in response, fighting not to lose control yet. “You first.”

“I already did!” 

“I don’t care. Give me one more.” 

At his words, he pulls himself up and angles himself deeper, finding your g spot and plowing into it mercilessly. You drag your nails down his back, yours arching up off the bed. “Chris, I can’t.” 

He shushes you softly, his lips claiming yours again as he continues to push into you. Ultimately it’s his muffled moan of “fuck” against your mouth that sends you over the edge, your face screwed up from an erotic mix of ecstasy and exhaustion.

You know you can’t take much more but Chris follows right behind you, dropping his head on your shoulder and moaning your name into it.

You lay there breathing heavily, skin to skin, for a while before you tap his back and he slides out of you. Awkwardness settles between you, so thick you’re not sure what to do with it so you stand wordlessly and head for a shower.

Your thoughts race as you scrub the remnants of him off your skin. The words you threw back and forth play on repeat in your brain as you wonder how to fix what’s between you before it’s too late.

The bathroom door opens and you watch through the streamy glass as Chris settles on the counter. The same counter he had you bent over not long ago. 

You step out of the shower and grab your robe, all the while avoiding his eye contact. This is the part you hate the most. The part that never ends. Because neither of you knows how to force it to end. 

He clears his throat, gesturing for you to come to him when you finally meet his eyes. Once you are standing between his legs, he pushes your wet hair out of your face gently as he studies your face. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

The nod you give is reluctant and slow. It’s never been a question of if Chris loves you. Just a question of whether he appreciates you. 

But he continues this time, his eyes holding a fierce sort of intensity. “I’d give this all up for us if I had to. My whole platform if it means I can wake up next to you.” 

Your breath hitches at this and you feel the tears threatening to fall so you bury your face in his shoulder, letting him pull your body into his. 

And you hope. Hope that his words are more than just words. Hope that you’re not too young to keep each other from slipping between your fingers.

A/N: thanks so much for reading my loves. don't forget to head over to my girl @luv4kozume's page in exactly one hour for her new matt smut. 🗣️

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz

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[wroteclassicaly]

18+

A/N: Small piece of filth, hope you enjoy ❤️

“Driving me crazy. Don’t know why you do that.” Another bit of babbling you-speak, poured out in waves, interwoven through your whines and moans, Steve notes. Or rather, tries to, given the predicament of being on his back as you use him to your satisfaction.

You’d stared him down like he was prey for the last several months, always shaking your head, clicking your pen until it broke. Then there were the signs that made Steve realize, with a lopsided smirk (that only made it worse), that you weren’t in fact mad at him, not in a serious way anyways. Your hitch in breath every inch closer that he came to you, the way you melted into him if he just brushed by you, or how your legs would tighten, feet would bounce, to the way that you’d chew on your fingertip when he was bent over putting stock out and he knew exactly what you were looking at. When he talked about dates or flirted with girls that came in, you’d roll your eyes and be obnoxious in the background to sabotage unknowingly, but he found it endearing. And when he bought himself his new diamond chain to go with his mustard colored shirt for the fancy dinner in Indianapolis the older kids had all gone to, your public exasperation is partially what led to the moment.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that it exploded in full. Steve was at work on your shift, you were dealing with a sore wrist after his ensemble at Saturday’s excursion. And the stupid bastard had the nerve to wear that blinged out piece of jewelry beneath his button up, all black polo. You slammed a stack of video tapes down and had blew out a rough breath, working your way around the counter to ask Steve ‘what the fuck his problem was?’ And in truth, he’d worn the chain again just to gauge your reaction, before making his move. Sure, you’d been close friends all up in emotional arms for years, but the sexual tension was more alive than ever and could no longer be ignored.

With one hand on his waist, the other propped on the counter, he grinned lazily at you, fresh highlights looking perfect with his grown out tresses under the cheap lighting, jeans tight on his toned legs and perfect ass.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re just… You’re —“

“I’m what?” He’d said, folding his arms to accentuate his biceps.

Your jaw had dropped rather comically and Steve is pretty sure you whimpered in defeat. You were caught.

“You know what you are, shithead. And I can’t take this shit anymore, it’s too much!” You’d gotten closer, talking with your hands. How Steve loves your hands. And you gave pause, brows pinched. “Wait, is that new cologne?”

Steve had pulled his shirt out to bare thicker chest hair, shrugging. “No, same ol’ stuff.”

“Can you stop, please?” You had sounded completely out of it, your pupils blown, leaving your beautiful eye color a thin ring, nearly transparent to the aroused abyss he’d created.

“Tell me what I’m doing, honey. Can’t stop if I don’t know…” Steve reached out with a finger, his confidence having greatly improved the last year within your friendship, and he traced down your cheek.

“Oh, shit.” Was all you could come up with.

With his thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth, massive hand cradling your jaw, he’d unraveled the knot with, “It’s okay if you say you want me, baby. Because I want you, too.”

~*~

Your hand looks small in comparison to his large girth, shining with what you’d slicked him up in, your babbling from before, slowly fading. His mossy orbs have shattered, their shards prickling you in an electrical stimulation, on you everywhere. His massive hands pinch your plush waist, every tendon visible on his jugular, his throat contracting around a harsh swallow as your fist around his base meets your body - seating him fully inside you. It hurts so bad that you welcome him to see the tears, see the glistening mess of your cunt spread open around his cock, cream bubbling in his base and smeared across his happy trail. You’ve never felt this before, this power, this safety, this want, this love.

Steve tosses his head back as your hips give an experimental rise and fall, sweat soaked backs of your knees feeling the pressure. He’s inside of you so deeply that you can barely move, his length dragging, pushing against every inch of your walls. You’re overcome in the moment and grab his big paws, curling his thick digits around your breasts and holding them together as you begin to roll your hips, never taking your eyes off him. He let out a moan that vibrates through you, his bed beginning to squeak beneath your rocking. His neck is visible again at this, scars beneath the chain, sweat glittering around and beneath the links, every freckle, every mole there, making him Steve.

Your movements have briefly slowed and he realizes, eyes open as you’re staring with this smirk. He gives your nipples a flick and releases, linking hands, to bring yours to his and kiss each knuckle he can get his mouth on. That’s when he’s flipping you with ease, knees sliding underneath your thighs, hands pinning yours to the bed as his nose finds your lashes, mouth planting his words across your lips; cinnamon breath spray, coffee, and cigarettes ghosting with each hot breath, “Don’t get too cocky, honey.”

On the break away, his chain sways forward, links getting caught on your lips. You take the jewelry into your mouth, sucking on the taste of the material, Steve’s chest tufts drag along your breasts as he fucks you on him with an ease so slow, that you can’t find cohesive speech for the rest of the night.

// Eat me paragraph //

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[marnle]

My sweet, sweet Dove - Mafia!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary - Bucky Barnes finds the peace he so rightfully craves in his best friend, the worlds upon his shoulders, yet his lust for you lives on through his darkest of days.

Warnings - smutttt, juicy af, mentions of violence, slight alcohol consumption, grinding etc.

A/n - Hi all, my requests are open! I’ve never really published my works before, so this is all new to me, but feel free to drop a request, and I’d love to see what I can do! :)

Enjoy, safe reading! <3

————

You sauntered into the kitchen, it was incredibly dark, yet a small lamp situated in the corner illuminated the majority of the room, drowning it in a blanket of rusty amber. You grabbed a small glass and walked towards the sink, filling it with cold water, it swirled around the glass as though it were a prisoner, fighting against its confines. You propped yourself up on the marble countertop, it was icy underneath you, a considerable difference to the heat that burned underneath your skin and through your veins. The deep, angered and somewhat laboured voices that previously echoed through the halls had silenced. They’d swirled through the walls, up the stairs, and burst through the windows too. Bucky had informed you that he was working late, you’d understood what he’d meant, yet the scale of debate that evidently had occurred left you feeling drained - and you hadn’t even been in the room.

Bucky was one of your closest friends, your main confidant in the times you needed him most. So when you informed him that you had nowhere to stay, he practically offered his whole life to you, and you took it with his blue eyes piercing what felt like your soul. So you resided in his main estate where he conducted his official work, his official business meetings, you knew he was dirty, and downright inequitable, but his loyalty was unlike any other, your friendship was unlike any other, and you owed him the world and more.

So as you sipped your water, and pondered the evident lack of sleep that laced your features, you didn’t hear his office door finally open after hours, or the trudge of his tired feet upon the dark wooden floor approaching, the leather of their seams making the slightest of noises.

His black silk tie sat loosely around his neck, his mountainous shoulders were tightly winded practically up to his ears, the top buttons of his previously pristine shirt were undone, and said shirt was hanging messily out of his slacks, of which sat loosely on his hips, his brunette hair was unkempt, almost spikey as the last of the gel he’d previously put in began to finally wear away.

“Doll? You alright?” He asked, snapping you out of your trance, he moved opposite to you and plopped himself shakily down on the floor with a large sigh, leaning against the kitchen cupboards behind him, his head thrown back in a show of exhaustion.

You simply hummed.

“Why are you still up?” He queried, running his large hand through his hair, absolutely destroying any remnants of orderliness it previously had maintained. Glaring at the girl in front of him almost alarmingly.

“Couldn’t sleep is all.” You replied, taking another small sip from your glass before handing it downwards towards Bucky. He accepted it, and pulled out a metallic flask, pouring a brown liquid into the mix, swirling it, then drinking it. It burned the back of his throat and warmed him from the inside out. He looked at you curiously, his oceanic eyes bore into yours in order to gauge a reaction. It was silent as you returned his eye contact, you were sure you could hear a pin drop.

“Well, hand it over.” you laughed nervously, taking a gulp of the alcoholic beverage. It also burned your throat, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust. You could hear the deep rumble of Bucky's laughter in the background, it sounded angelic to your ears.

“Bad night?” You asked, anxiously pinching the skin of your fingers as you awaited his reply, not wanting him to ever suffer at the slightest. You observed the way his jaw slightly clenched and went slack, how he breathed slightly faster at such, and slowly regained his composure not a moment after.

“Something like that Doll.” he replied, letting out yet another sigh. In complete honesty, the meeting was a mess, his business partner had backed out of a paramount deal, meaning he’d have to find a backup as soon as possible, something that wasn’t likely. This left him open to financial attacks elsewhere. He’d even lost his temper, covering his golden signet ring that sat dormant on his finger in a layer of carmine; the ring you twirled when you felt anxious. His business partner had messed up his ring, his new enemy had messed up your ring, and Bucky had made sure he paid for it.

“Is there something I could do to make you feel any better?”.

He subtly nodded, allowing his stoic exterior only to fall in your presence, something that exhausted him beyond words.

He kneeled and shuffled towards you whilst you sat upon the counter, arms open, knowing exactly what he needed. He pushed his head into your stomach, breathing in your scent, roses and fresh linen, it made him feel safe. His was sandalwood, it engulfed your scenes and knocked the wind out of your chest, just like it always did.

You placed your hand upon his head, stroking your fingers through his hair as you felt the tension leave his large body, you leaned down and placed a small kiss on the crown of his head.

This caused him to gaze up at you, a longing in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, and you were sure yours mirrored them as such.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You whispered at a barely audible level, you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Like what?” he replied, his voice breathy and almost desperate.

Your hands moved down from his hair towards his chin, cupping his face as though he was the last living being on earth. Your eyes fluttered between his lips and his eyes, the room was spinning, the air was thick.

“Like this.” you whispered before slowly bringing his face to yours, and placing your smooth lips over his own.

Bucky felt as though his world had stopped, his heart was erratically beating, his head didn’t feel as though it was his own, his body wasn’t his own. The tension had been snapped just as quickly as it arised, and Bucky felt as though he was on cloud nine, there and then he decided that the feel of your lips against his own was the singular most effective high he’d ever encountered, it was a high he was now addicted to, and one he’d never ever let go.

He stilled in your grasp, causing you to pull away.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry.” You muttered, a wave of red covered your cheeks, horrified at what you’d just done. Yet before your brain could sabotage you further, and convince you otherwise, Bucky slammed his lips onto yours, grasping the back of your neck in his large hands. He groaned at the taste of you, a sweetness he’d only ever imagined.

He pushed into your mouth, your teeth collided in a show of desperation and finally requited lust. You slid your hand into his brown hair once again, yet under completely different circumstances.

You grasped his hair, pulling him off of your lips, it made him groan.

“Tell me you don’t want this, tell me you don't Bucky.”

“You know I can’t.”

He picked you up, wrapping his large arms around your torso, his fingers pushed under your shirt, drawing circles upon your skin, skin of which felt as though it were a juvenile flame of the sun.

You tucked your face into the crevice of his neck, his scent was the strongest it had ever been, it blinded you, and you loved it. You dragged your lips across his neck, biting and nipping at whatever skin you could, making his groans rougher, whinier.

He’d walked you both into the living room where he dropped backwards onto the couch, you in his arms. You were sitting in his lap, he was so extremely hard under you that you couldn’t help but tease.

You slowly rolled your hips, the friction causing you both to moan in unison, in pleasure. He grasped your body as though you were his life line, and even though he hadn’t said as such, you both knew it was true for the both of you.

You continued to grind against him, you moved against each other as though you were made for each other. Your moans were beautiful, they made him lose his mind, his great intelligent mind reduced to nothing simply by your presence alone. His hands grabbed your hips for a moment, your face was directly in front of his, you inhaled his breath as though it were your last.

“Doll, I can’t last long like this.” He moaned, more like a whine, in an attempt to keep his composure.

“I bet.” you replied, causing his mouth to fall even further open in a state of disbelief, allowing you to sink your teeth into his lip, stealing even more of his sacred breath away.

Instead of slowing down you sped up, with Bucky’s hands gripping your waist so tightly, you were sure his touch was to be ingrained upon your soul. He ran his hand down towards where you longed for him most, and cupped your pussy, pushing his palm into your clit, causing you to let out a moan that echoed off of the walls, a moan he was sure he’d never forget. He ran his other hand up your body towards your nipple, and twirled it between his fingers, swapping between the two, making you feel as though you were atop of the world. The sight of you was enough for him to come right there, yet he’d only ever imagined this moment, and wanted, no, needed to drag it out for as long as possible, as long as he humanely could.

“Come on baby, let go for me.” He purred, gazing into your eyes as yours fought to stay open.

“Shh, that’s my Doll, let go love.” And you did, your body arched into his grasp, he pushed his palm even further into your clit as you came, creating such delicious pressure, you thought you were going to burst. You wrapped your arms around his body, engulfing him and curling into him to fit his form as though you were perfectly moulded to him as he came too, groaning and bucking his hips whilst his stomach and glistening abs contracted over and over again, he’d entirely lost control, the lust he felt wasn’t matched by another soul.

Your sweaty bodies sat wrapped around each other, breathy whimpers left the both of you as you fought your natural instincts to breathe. Bucky grasped your face, and silently laughed as he brought his lips to yours once again.

“My sweet, sweet Dove, how you’ve had me forever.”

————

Fanx 4 reading bros :)

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[patrophthia]

attention is what i want! | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: pining, one sided crushes, angst !!, complicated feelings, theo is a dick tbh, humor (my attempt at it), reader embarrasses herself (multiple time), girls girls pansy, reader are friends with the golden trio but isn’t a gryffindor, cursing, drinking, a bit suggestive in the end hehe

wc: 4.3k (idk how it got this long, i planned to write sth with like 2k at most but it kept going)

note: i wrote this while listening to attention by new jeans for two hours straight (yay pining!) i have very mixed feelings for this fic but here it is anyways!

summary: it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

To say you had a crush on Theodore Nott would be an understatement. You never actually confessed to the Slytherin but it's as clear as days that you were into him. 

And when he was as good looking as he was, could anyone really blame you? 

Not really, not when most of Hogwarts found your attempt at shooting your shot with him the most amusing thing ever. 

"Good morning, Nott." Your hand shot upwards the second the Slytherin enters the classroom. His eyes settling on you whilst his friends bickers behind him. "I saved you a seat." 

There's snickering from behind you, hushed whispers as your classmate gossips about your pathetic attempt at getting with Theodore once more. 

His eyes scans the room, finally settling on one of the two empty seats behind the class and B-lining towards it. Zabini, having lost to Malfoy at grabbing the seat next to Theodore smiles at you kindly. Maybe even apologetically as he sits next to you. 

"Better luck next time?" He offers, trying to lighten your mood and you smile back, nodding. "You'll get him eventually." 

And though your voice is low, barely audible and muffled; Zabini still manages to hear you huff out a: "doubt it." 

"Do you think he'd pay attention to me if I dyed my hair green?" You ask, playing with your hair. 

Sure, your hair would end up damaged but if it meant Theodore would spare a glance your way then you'd take it. 

Harry looks at you as if you'd grown an extra head, green eyes enlarged as he tries to gauge whether you were serious or not. "Excuse me?" 

"I think I could pull of forest green hair." 

Hermione rolls her eyes. "No, you can't." She doesn't really mean it though, she does agree that you'd probably pull off forest green hair but she'd rather you do it for your own personal wants rather than to gain someone else's attention. "And you won't." 

You only huff at her words. "Why not?"

"Because, it's stupid. You'd look stupid doing so." Mione doesn't bother sugarcoating it, she doesn't need to when you've known her as long as you have. "If you need his attention so badly then ask him out, just drop the question and get it over with." 

"I'm trying to!" You groan, passing your plate with leftovers over to Ron who accepts it gladly. "I could walk naked in front of him and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash." 

Ron face scrunches at the idea, finding the prospect of a naked you disgusting. "You could put up a banner," he suggests through a mouthful of food. "I'd notice someone if they put up a banner with my name on it." 

And when Hermione's whacked Ron at him encouraging what she deemed was self destructive behavior, the conversation shifts to something else completely. 

You're huffing and puffing when you straighten up, showing your three closest friends what you'd been working on for the last two days. "What do you think?" 

Ron gasps loudly, eyes wide as he takes in the imagine in front of him. "You're crazy." 

"If you'd just—" Hermione, as if it was second nature, reaches up and smack at his arm. "—learnt how to shut up, this wouldn't have happened." 

It's only natural for you to frown at their reaction, brows knitted as you asked them. "Is it too much?" 

Harry, and his sweet sweet soul tries his best to not hurt your feelings as he nodded. "Maybe?" He tries to soften the blow, adding on: "I think it's brilliant, it's just ... a lot." 

You look over your masterpiece. Reading out the glittering paint, letter by letter and watching it as it takes shape into one of the biggest banner you've seen at Hogwarts by far. 

Written in shining green paint were the words: 

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me? 

"I mean, if anything you'll definitely get his attention with that," Harry says, blinking rapidly at the banner. "It's pretty hard to miss." 

"Let's hope so." 

The dining hall is louder than normal, it has always been noisy; having seated thousands of teenagers who had little to none supervision during their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

But like Theodore has noted earlier, it's noisier than normal. And the drop of voices is significant when he steps through the large doors, loud gossips turns to hushed whispers; eyes roaming between him and a figure by the Gryffindor table. 

It doesn't take him long to notice why, a dust of glitter falling down on him from above. He glances up, eyes squinting as he reads out the banner before him. 

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me? 

The letters are bright, glinting under the candle light as if it was taunting him, pushing at his buttons for a reaction. And though, there was no name written on the banner to indicate who'd made it; he knew that it was you. 

Dark eyes narrows as he zones in on you. You dressed up nicely, watching him with a pretty smile on your waiting face. 

And when all he did was roll his eyes and turn towards the Slytherin table, without sparing you another look. You all but deflated in front of everyone's eyes. 

You knew it was stupid, and that it was all your fault to make your love life so public for everyone to entertain themselves with, but you can't help but feel hurt at the laughter bubbling through out the hall. 

You're scrambling out of your seat, rushing out of the hall when a voice shouts out. "Serves you right, pick me!" 

Oddly enough, it's Pansy who speaks up; her voice loud and clearly irritated when she shouts back, telling them to go and: "Fuck yourself." 

Why the Slytherin threw a dirty glare at her friend and ran after you despite the two of you not being friends —let alone having been seen together before, was a mystery to everyone. 

And since Hermione loves you too much for her own good, she’s quick to scramble out of her seat, casting a spell to set the banner up in flames as she rushed after Pansy and you. 

There’s a sort of guilt that Hermione feels when she finds you hunched over with Pansy’s hand running up and down your back. The two of you weren’t friends, neither is Hermione and Pansy but when a girl’s in need of comfort, it’s only normal for them to be there for her. 

“I don’t get why you’re into him, honestly,” Pansy grits out, “out of all the boys in Slytherin you just had to choose the dickhead, didn’t you?” 

Hermione can hear you sniffle out a laugh as she takes a seat on your other side. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to choose the dickhead, huh?” 

Pansy and Hermione are sharing a grin as you lift your head up slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not like I wanted to like him, you know?” You say with a small laugh. “I guess I’m just attracted to an asshole.” 

“You’re guessing this now?” Pansy says with a roll of her eyes, there’s no venom in her tone, only playful annoyance. “This isn’t the first time he’s treated you like this. I’ve heard all about your … attempts, you know?” 

“Really?” You’re laughing and the hurt in your tone is clearer than ever. “How embarrassing.” 

“It’s not,” Hermione reassured you, “if anything I think it’s endearing.” 

“Me making a fool of myself for a guy is endearing to you?” 

Pansy giggles at your words. “I’ve done worse, maybe just not so publicly.” Her voice is playful when she adds on, “but this should be the final nail in the coffin right? Finally getting over that asshole after this?” 

“That asshole is your best friend,” you remind her and she looks to her side bashfully. 

“That doesn’t excuse him for being horrible to you,” she mumbled. “And I thought Draco was bad.”

“Malfoy is bad,” Hermione chimes in. “He just didn’t humiliate you like Nott did her.” 

Pansy tilts her head to the side in thought. “Maybe. Or maybe we should just stop dating Slytherin guys over all.” 

Hermione only smiles fondly at her words. “Maybe.” 

You’re doing fine. Or as fine as one could be after a publicly humiliating confession. You’re still very you, smiling at Theodore every chance you get even though you’ve told your friends (now extended to Pansy) multiple times that you were getting over him. 

The only BIG difference that anyone noticed after your rejection was that you no longer attempted to get closer to Theodore. You don’t save him seats, you don’t tell him good morning, and they’d be lying if they said it wasn’t weird. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You look up, eyes widening at the person in front of you and nodded. “I’m saving it for someone.” You pray to Merlin that he doesn’t hear the waver in your voice as you did so. “Is there something you needed?” 

He doesn’t answer you, instead placing his book bag on your desk. You try to control the butterflies caged in your stomach, fluttering at the sight of his forearm flexing as he did so. “You’re saving it for me? Like always?” 

You blink at him. “… no. I’m saving it for Blaise.” 

“Huh,” he hums thoughtfully, “you’re in first name basis now?” 

You move to your right when he takes his seat to your left, trying to distance yourself from him. “What do you want?” 

He looks at you and your pretense of being over him crumbles all over, tumbling as he nearly knocks you off your feet just how intense his gaze is. And though you’ve always wanted his attention, for him to look at you back like he’s doing now. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach with how much you still liked him. 

“Attention is what you want, right?” 

What is he playing at? “Not anymore.” 

“Shame.” There’s a slight smile at your answer. “I was finally ready to give it to you.” 

“He said that?” Pansy repeats your words back to you, her hand moving away from your face as she dips it back into the face mask she’d mixed up. “That’s weird.” 

“That’s what I thought,” you murmur, feeling Hermione kick her feet into your lap. “I’m so confused right now.” 

“Maybe he’s playing hard to get?” Hermione suggests. “Even if he is I hope he knows the only hard thing he’s getting is a rock thrown at his face.” 

It’s clear that she’s taken your rejection harder than you did, grumbling at the thought of him. “A text book if he’s lucky.” 

Pansy finishes up your face mask and sets the bowl down. “I told him to apologise to you, not to go and bother you," she says, frowning slightly.

“You told him to apologise?” The tone of the conversation shifts, downing just the slightest bit. 

Pansy avoids your eyes as she nods, “I just wanted him to say sorry for how he treated you, you didn’t deserve that. But that fucker decided to go and do something weird, I’m sorry, lovely.” 

When she’s taken up the nickname lovely for you, you don’t know. But you’re too much into your head to say anything about it. “Please don’t do that. Don’t meddle with this just because you pity me. I can handle this by myself.” 

“I don’t—” Pansy pauses, realising the weight of her actions “—I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave you be.” 

You’re nodding when you tell her: “thank you.” 

Trying to jot down notes does nothing to soothe your nerves, and it definitely doesn’t distract you from the fact that Theodore Nott is sitting so damn close to you. So close that your thighs were touching, and that with any small move you made, your shoulder brushes against his. 

Moving your chair to the right is no use, not when he’d move his just so he’d be closer to you. You’re so close you could practically hear him breathe. 

It’s when your quill slips off of your desk that you have to confront him about it. You nudge at his thigh with yours, forcing them to his left only for him to look at you curiously. “Can you move?” 

“Why?” He asks instead, planting his thighs where they’d been. 

“My quill fell, I need to get it.” You explain, avoiding his eyes as best as you could. His attention is not good for your heart, maybe it two weeks ago, but it definitely wasn’t now. 

Theodore is uninterested and unmoving when he quipped back. “And you can’t get like this?” 

Not if you didn’t want to plan your face on his lap and be so terribly close to his— yeah no. You sigh, leaning forward to tap at the person’s in front of you shoulder. “Would you mind getting my quill for me please? It’s bit hard for me to reach.” 

The person in front nods and leans down to get it for you with a smile. And when they hands it to you, their finger brushing against yours, you distinctly feel Theodore press himself closer to you. 

“You could’ve borrowed mine,” Theodore says lowly, eyeing you from above. 

He’s slightly taller than you, even when you’re both sat. Trying to prove to him (and yourself) that you were over him, and that this close proximity did not matter to you; you strain your neck up to glare at him. “You could’ve moved.” 

“Maybe,” he concurs. “And you could’ve just asked for me to get it for you.” 

“Like you’d do that,” you murmur with a roll of your eyes. “For me of all people.” 

“For you of all people,” he repeats. 

You hate how you instinctively break away from his gaze, looking at your notes as you try to calm your beating heart. Two weeks is nearly not enough to time to get over a crush you’ve been harboring for the longest time, not when you liked him so much you didn’t bother to keep it a secret to anyone and he knows it. 

He knows it and he’s using it as an advantage, for what exactly you don’t know. What you do know, is that you need to get away from Theodore Nott. Or kiss him. Whichever works. 

You sigh, glancing at your hands and hope that your voice doesn’t tremble when you quietly ask him. “What are you playing at Theodore?” You’re exasperated and he can hear it, he can hear the exhaustion in your voice and he tries his best not to let it get to him. “I know Pansy told you to apologize but you’re not apologizing, you’re just making things worse.” 

He doesn’t say anything, though you can still feel his eyes on you. “Excuse me, Professor,” he says suddenly, his shoulder knocking yours as he stood up, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, would you mind letting me slip to the infirmary?” 

His hands are on you, holding firmly onto your wrist as he speaks. “It’s best if I had a friend to help me.” The professor doesn’t get a chance to respond before Theodore is pulling you away from the class. 

Your words are jumbled, flailing as you try to match up his pace; you’re confused and against your better judgement, you trust that he wouldn’t hurt you —even if he’d done so many times before. 

He comes to a halt by a hallway, it’s quiet still; students having yet left their classes. 

He looks at you, dark eyes clouding with emotion and tries to get you to look at him. Practically begging for you to give him your attention before speaking. “How am I making things worse? It’s what you wanted isn’t it?” 

“It is,” you say after a minute. “It’s just— this isn’t how I wanted it.

I like you, Theodore. A lot and I’ve made it so clear so many times and you always made it clear that you didn’t like me back. I finally try to get over you and you do this? What even is this? What are you trying to get at, Theo?” 

He doesn’t answer you, his hand finally releasing the grip on your wrist to rest by his side. 

You scoff, noting how he falls back to his pattern of not speaking to you when you’re practically pouring your heart out to him. 

“Why did never ask me out?” 

Your expression is puzzled, and he knows that he needs to explain himself, for him to tell you exactly what he meant but can’t bring himself to. Not when he wants to keep his pride in check.

“I did ask you out,” you tell him slowly. “In front of everyone.” 

“Exactly,” his reply is breathless as if he had been pondering over this for ages, “in front of everyone. Why didn’t you tell me you like me? Why didn’t you ask me when it’s just you and I?” 

“Are you serious?” You let out a ridiculing laugh. “You never wanted to step a single foot next to me and you expected me to ask you when it’s just me and you? Are you kidding me? 

Did you ever wonder why I wrote ‘attention is what I want’?” 

He’s speechless. And screwed. He can sense that you’re growing agitated with him, and he hates it. 

“Would it have changed anything if I had asked you out between you and I?” 

His silence is loud enough for you to understand his converted answer. 

“Merlin, why did you bring me out here, Theodore?” 

Theodore is bad at emotions. He’s bad at feelings, he’s bad at love and everything alike. He doesn’t like you and he’s pretty sure of it. Then why does it bother him so much to know that you no longer wanted anything to do with him. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Of course you don’t.” You meet his eyes and he knows that this is the end, you’re done with him for good. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to be the one I liked, huh?”

“And that’s it?” Ron ask curiously. “You’re finally getting over him?” 

“Mhmm,” you hum, waving at Pansy who waved at you from the end of the dining hall, her Slytherin friends pointedly looking between you, Pansy, and Nott. “Finally am.” 

Ron doesn’t need to know that despite your mind being set on getting over Nott, your stomach still did somersault every time you see him —even in your peripheral vision. 

And when you smile at him, much like you did to everyone else and he doesn’t smile back at you; you feel your heart break all over again. 

It’s your own fault though, falling for a mere stranger who you’d only ever spoken to in classes —all of which having been conversations about school. 

“Do I get reward?” 

Hermione rolls her eyes. “A reward for doing something we’ve been telling you to do for ages? You wish.” 

“I’ve been wishing for something else.” The mischievous look on your face is enough to clue her in on where your mind as gone, scrunching her face as she scowls at you. “Gross.” 

“Are you okay though?” Harry asks you lowly. “I know it can be hard to get over crushes.” Take him and Chang for example. “So if you need anything we’re here for you.” 

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Or at least I’ll be.” 

Harry offers you a smile, as kind as always. “That’s good then.” 

It’d only be weird for you to visit the Slytherin common room often (courtesy of Pansy) and for you to not run into Theodore at least once. 

You’re standing outside the common room, waiting for Pansy to come and get you when the door swings open and he stands there in front of you. He’s in his pajamas, an oversized sweater pooling at his hands. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Though you’re also in your pajamas, you feel slightly underdressed under his eyes. Only having worn a loose T-shirt and shorts for girls night. 

You want to ask him what he’s doing here but it is his house’s common room so you withheld your question to yourself. “Pansy.” 

He gives you a once over before glancing back into the common room, it’s roaring with laughters; a bunch of the Slytherin boys deciding to play card games as they indulge themselves with the alcohol they bought with their father’s money. 

“Let me walk you in,” he offers, already turning back into the common room; expecting for you to follow after him. 

“You don’t need to—” you don’t get to finish your words when Theodore throws you a sharp look. As if he was asking you to protest him on this. You sigh, following after him. 

Theodore stays a good distance away, hiding you and your bare legs from the other Slytherins. He doesn’t really have to though, most of them minding their own business until Blaise chirps up to say hi. 

“Hello,” you greeted him back, waving at him. Crabbe, now noticing your interaction lets out a low whistle at the sight of you. And Theodore moves closer to you, almost possessively. “I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Mhmm,” Blaise says, humming before turning his attention back to Enzo. “Goodnight, princess.” 

There’s a snicker from Goyle, smirking as he says. “You’re stealing Nott’s girl now?” 

You only offer him a smile, feeling Theodore come in over closer to you as he hurries you up the stairs. There’s a thump! from behind and you knew, without seeing, that Blaise threw a pillow at the bastards face. 

Theodore doesn’t try to hide his amusement when you curse a hex in Crabbe and Goyle’s way, not when Mattheo’s laughter roared across the room at your spell. 

“Thank you,” you tell Theodore, and you noticed that his lips are curled; why exactly, you don’t want to know. “Goodnight, Theodore.” 

You’re halfway up the stairs when he calls your name, you turn to him. “Yes?” 

“Goodnight,” he says, turning on his heel to leave. 

You turn back up the stairs, only to pause and look back at him once, twice; before setting off to find Pansy. 

It’s two weeks later when Theodore bumps into you again, this time; quite literally. His hands are on you, stilling you so you wouldn’t fall flat on your ass. 

The dance floor is crowded, but it’s to be expected when one of the most popular students at Hogwarts (read: Blaise Zabini) is throwing a birthday party. 

You’re —by extension through Pansy, a friend of his which means you needed to be there or he’d be pretty (very) sad about it and pester you about it for the rest of your life. 

“Woah!” Your hands lay awkwardly on his chest, trying to push him away whilst trying to balance yourself still. “Watch where you’re going.” 

Theodore straightens you up, hands lingering a little too long before letting you go. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.” 

And though you promised yourself to let go off Theodore months ago, you can’t help but feel your heart twist at his words. Skin burning where he’d touch you mere seconds ago. 

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “just be more careful.” 

“Yeah.” His tone is breathless, blinking at you slowly as if he couldn’t believe you were so close to him. “You look nice.” 

You better hope so, it’s not like you spend an hour getting ready to look anything but nice. And despite your better judgment, you feel butterflies setting off in your stomach once more. But that could’ve also been caused by the mixed concoction you downed five minutes ago. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You too, Theo.” 

“Mhmm,” he hums nodding, his expression is hesitant. “Thank you,” he says, turning his head to the side and under the clubbing lights, you can easily spot the tinging redness at the top of his ears. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

“What?” It’s not that you didn’t hear him, it’s that you didn’t want to hear him. Because you knew, damn well, that if he’d just repeated himself you would agree within a heartbeat.

He gulps, and repeat himself. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

Maybe your heart is weak, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Theodore that gets you out of there with him attached to your lips. 

His hand pressing into the small of your back as you leaned against the wall, a small groan slipping from his lips when you nipped on it. 

Theodore pulls back, eyes wide and roaming your face as he takes your features in; memorising the slope of your nose, the plumpness in your lips, and the apples of your cheeks as if this was the last time he’d be able to do so. And presses his lips to yours once more. 

He calls out your name, a free hand reaching up to cup your jaw so you’d look at him. For you to give him the attention he so desperately wanted from you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you probably hate me and I’m so sorry but give me a chance, please.” 

His tone is desperate, almost begging as he did so and you wonder if he knew the impact he still had on you. He lets go of your jaw, arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

“Give me a chance to make it up to you,” he asks of you, mouth pressing wet kisses down your neck as he repeats himself. “Please, please, pretty girl.” 

“Theo.” His kisses doesn’t stop, much less falter at your words. “Theo.” 

“Mhmm?” He hums against your neck, pulling back to give you his full an undivided attention. “Yes?” 

He’s a bit taken aback when you kiss him quickly, chasing your lips as you pulled back. “You have a lot to make up for.” 

“I know.” The curled smile of his returns, dark eyes glinting as he looks at you. “But for now let me give you all my attention.”

— from bee: i guess reader got what she wished for at the end lol, feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! (๑>◡<๑)

p.s this pic of mingyu is so (my) bf i love him!!

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #🧳: my writing #Spotify

[jarofstyles]

Cocoon- Best Friend's Dadrry

hello my loves, here is part 6 of the best friend's dadrry series!! I hope you enjoy

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Previous part

Warnings- age gap relationship, hints of smut, fluffy and angsty

WC- 2.9k

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“Fuck me.” Harry muttered, looking down at his phone.

It was a day in-office for him, one of the few ones that he still did just to keep order of it. Having his own company had a lot of perks, which were thoroughly enjoyed by the man with taking trips and spending money and living lavishly. One of the best so far, though, had been being able to be home when Y/N had days off. The pretty girl that stayed on his mind 25/8, the one he was still trying to gauge how she felt. 

Today had been scheduled before she had been given the day off. The man had mourned the loss of a later morning, snuggled between her legs with her thighs keeping his cheeks warm. He loved having breakfast in bed, languid licks at her sensitive cunt while she stroked his hair and squirmed under him with soft little sleepy moans. His ultimate best morning routine, tarnished by the fact he had to leave at 6 in the damn morning. He’d kissed her pouty lips goodbye and driven to the city, grumpy and under caffeinated as he sat down at his office chair. 

He’d been in the middle of a conference call when he had opened up the messages sent from Y/N. One in particular had him cursing under his breath. 

It was her in his bed. His shirt on her body, lifted up by her hand to expose her naked torso and the curve of her hips. Her beautiful, beautiful body that he had dragged himself away from this morning, albeit mournfully. His eyes took in the faded marks of his fingers on her hips and the very fresh love bite he had left on the swell of her breast. He could remember the exact moment he had given it to her, too. Her body laid out under him on the couch, vibrator he had snuck downstairs pressed firmly to her clit as she whined for him. He’d worshiped her breasts, sucking on the nipples until they swelled and made her shiver when he blew on them, kissing and licking every available inch of skin just because he could. Because Harry wanted to own her, and she loved to be owned by him. 

That one spot in particular had made her squeal, so he had latched on. Sucking rough, feeling her hips roll and her poor clit be slightly abused as she came and he kept it pressed there for another time around. Harry had become increasingly greedy with her and her body, her time. He wanted all of it. Making her orgasm was an addiction, feeling her nails dig into his arms as she weighed in his arms and telling him ‘enough’ but knowing she wasn’t safe wording out? He went feral on that. 

Their sexual chemistry was a modern marvel. He’d wondered many times how it was. Why it was. It had to be his daughter’s best friend who had finally unlocked the side of him that he had thought never existed. Passion and lust and the need to please had engulfed him like a wall of flames as soon as they kissed, achy hands gripping soft flesh and pulling her closer and closer so he could get her scent on his skin. Her taste on his lips. His orgasms before were barely considered now that he had came inside of her.

Y/N had woken up a part of him that he had thought had died a long time ago. The adventurous sex and excitement, he felt like a boy discovering love and intimacy all over again. It was terrifying and exhilarating and he wanted to hoard all of these moments with her for himself. He had considered it a potential midlife crisis when the topic had been broached, but quickly dismissed that. The things he felt for her were real. The sweaty palms and the need to please and the shot of butterflies shot into his stomach when she fucking smiled at him. He had been in a few relationships in the past and it was similar, but Y/N just seemed to understand a part of him.Unspoken, perhaps, but it seemed like she didn’t even have to try to make him happy. Her simple being an natural instincts leaned towards his preferences.  

“What?” One of the voices on the call had responded. 

Fuck.

“Sorry, I spilled coffee on myself.” He tried to save it. “I apologize for the unprofessionalism, it just burned me.” He hadn’t realized he said it out loud. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s awful. Are you alright?” Another voice asked, the concern making him smile to himself. 

“Yes, I’m fine. We can continue.” 

His eyes went back to the photo, making sure to mute himself this time as his thumbs typed out a text to her. 

H: What are you trying to do? 

H: You know I’m in a meeting right now. 

💋: I know 😇

💋: thought you’d like some motivation. 

H: The only things it’s motivating me to do is mark your ass up with my hand when I get home. 

💋: say it again, Daddy. I’m close. 

H: Y/N….

💋: Daddy H…. 

H: You’re lucky you’re cute. 

💋: ooo, what else am I? 

H: Trouble. 

💋: hm, maybe a little bit. 

💋: what else? 💋💋

H: One of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. Incredibly intelligent. Kind. Strong willed. 

💋: … damn. I was teasing but you’re making me blush. 

💋: you’ve earned a blowie when you come home. 

H: I’m only stating the truth.

His smile grew as he realized that she called his place home. 

H: You’ll still be there when I get home?

💋: Mhm. I was going to run errands but the bed… it’s too comfortable. 

💋: I think you should bring home take out and eat it with me in bed. Be lazy with me. We can watch the documentary you wanted to see.

H: I won’t complain about coming home to my pretty girl in bed. 

In fact, it would make him giddy all day. She wanted to spend time with him like that?  Yes, they’d done it a lot before but it felt way better now. More real. Domestic. 

💋: I’d hope not. 

💋: not opposed to a pizza and some wine. Just putting it out there. 

H: Anything for you, darling. 

💋: if you keep saying that you won’t be able to get rid of me. 

H: I wouldn’t dream of it. 

He never wanted to. He wanted to keep her. That was part of the problem. 

—-

Harry came home with two pizza boxes in hand and the requested wine in the other. The house was quiet, tranquil. The string lights she had asked to hang up on the deck were on and the sun was almost set, casting s glow into the kitchen as he walked through it. His home had felt so empty when his daughter had left for college, even more so when she’d actually moved out- but having Y/N here was a remedy. A blessing. He wanted to come home every night to her shoes in the entryway. Her mug in the sink. She made it feel like a home again.  

His briefcase was set down in the office, his work phone left too so he didn’t have it and grabbed two glasses from the kitchen before he basically zoomed up the stairs, opening his bedroom door to see- a lump. 

A Y/N sized lump under the covers. Hair piled up on top of her head peeked out of his duvet that was clutched close to her face, which was smushed slightly against his pillow. She was sleeping on his pillow on her side of the bed. His heart tingled, a slight smile rising on his face as he placed the pizza boxes down on the dresser and the wine following. 

He took a moment to observe her. He’d done it plenty of times before as she slept. Creepy? Perhaps. But there was something so sweet about her when she fell asleep. Staying curled in his bed, no walls up, she let go of any defenses and felt safe enough with him to snooze in his bed- with or without him home. Her gentle breathing was all he could hear besides the low buzz of the tv playing some show he couldn’t place, the peaceful look on her face one he wished he could memorize. 

Fingers couldn’t stop the urge, reaching out and brushing the hair from her face. The baby hair that had been fussed with and fallen out in her sleep, her warm skin igniting his fingertips. She was so goddamn beautiful, it made his heart ache a little bit in his chest. He knew she was younger than him, but she was a woman. She was a sweet woman, strong and full of life and vigor. Y/N was hilarious and feisty but above all else, she was kind. She had a good heart. Perhaps there were flaws- ones he knew about, like her stubbornness, and some others that were more than likely hidden under a layer of heavily guarded fluff- but he thinks that they all add together to make her Y/N. And that in and of itself was fucking beautiful.

His chest squeezed when she leaned into his touch, falling deeper into the pillows with a soft noise. His touch calmed her, even in her sleep had her gravitating towards him. His heart felt like it was in his throat as he realized that it wasn't something he could talk himself out of. There were real feelings here. It wasn’t just an illicit affair anymore. Not just two people indulging in the taboo. It was a relationship, even without the label. 

He stroked over the apples of her cheeks, petting her heated skin as he saw her eyes flutter. One sleepily popped open, looking up at the man in confusion for a second before the most gut wrenchingly sweet smile tipped on her sleepy lips. A slow hand grabbed his hand keeping it where it was as she turned her face so her lips met his palm. Something that had become a habit for them both, her smooth, soft lips pressing chaste against the slightly tough skin of his hand. 

Wordlessly, her hand weakly tugged at him before she opened up the blankets. 

She wanted him in. 

Harry wasn’t going to tell her no. Especially not after how raw his heart felt at his revelation just mere seconds ago. He shrugged off his jacket and his belt, letting them fall to the floor so they wouldn’t irritate her while she scooted more towards the middle of the bed, allowing him space. His brain was whirling around, full of thoughts and things to say, but he couldn’t get them to organize themselves. All he could do is indulge in her request, crawling into the bed with her and laughing under her breath as she dove for his neck, tucking her face into the crook of it. 

God. He was so, so fucked. 

“Hi.” Out of everything he could have said, it was what escaped his lips. Arm wrapping underneath her body while the other moved to stroke her exceptionally warm back, he felt her snuggle into him. Melting into his body like it was a second piece to his own. Her breath was warm as he felt a single peck to the thin and sensitive skin of his throat, her nose running over it as she clutched his work shirt.

“Hi.” Was the peep back, her voice raspy with the sleep she had just gotten. Y/N was a nap fiend, always excusing herself for a bit of shut eye, but this had to be one of his new favorites. Sleepy Y/N in his bed, desperate for a cuddle when he got home. There was no semblance of hesitation, she was simply doing what she wanted and it made him feel full knowing that this was the choice.  

“Sleep well when I was gone, darling?” His voice was hushed, not wanting to break the intimate moment. This was the type of thing that Harry had been exceptionally greedy for lately. The tenderness, the sweet heart of this girl showing itself to him front and center. He could tell that sometimes it was intimidating for her to do such a thing, but she had been making him so, so happy. 

“Mhm.” The soft hum was met with her hand slipping under his work shirt, resting on his chest. He’d unbuttoned it and lost the tie on the way in, but he knew now that he needed to thank whatever gave him the idea to do that. Her little warm hand smoother over his skin, brushing over the light hair on his chest with another hum before she settled it there. “Missed you, though.” The admission had him smiling to himself, unable to see her face but knowing it was a little bit shy. His hand found a similar position, slipping under her tank top and splaying across her smooth, warm back. “Yeah? Missed you too. Always do.” He decided to reward her with some of his own vulnerability. It was a team effort. She should know he felt just as fond. “Don’t like goin’ into the office. S’not as nice as working from home.. And I can see more of you.” Lips brushed the crown of her head, inhaling deeply as he pressed a kiss to it. Her shampoo smelled so good, it was just essential Y/N, and it was all over his bed. He would seek it out when she inevitably, unfortunately, would have to return to her flat. 

Y/N waited for a second before raising her head from his neck, pecking his jaw and looking at him with those pretty, hazy with sleep eyes that he utterly adored. She took a moment to stare at him, his pulse going a bit harder when she didn’t reply right away- but he was rewarded. Her lips found his, her nimble fingers tangling in his silver necklace. Ever so gentle, her lips closed around his and she arched into him, letting it linger for a few seconds before Harry returned it, pecking her lips with a few light pecks. The sound of them made her smile, peeling her eyes back open to look at him. 

“I like when you stay here with me, too. I’m a little greedy with your time…” She joked, a tiny smile showing the humor. It wasn’t really a joke, though. Y/N had found it hard to stay away from the man. It was a culmination of things. What she had always intended to be hot, whirlwind sex before she settled and searched for a good job had turned into a mess. One that was starting to mean more to her than most other things. 

“I like it when you’re greedy.” there was a double meaning there but the tone was showing he meant it in the pure way. “I like spending time with you. Y’know that, yeah?” He mumbled, pulling her body in to snuggle against him. The softness of her limbs and heat of her nap soaked him to his bones, the covers pulled up around them to keep the cocoon of warmth steadily baking around them. “Love sex with you, but… This is nice too. Or goin’ out to the pool with you. Cooking with you. It’s made my days lately.” 

Y/N’s heart felt like it was a bit too full, a shy smile painting her lips. It was difficult to look him in the eye when he said sweet things like this when her brain hadn’t even fully broken out of the nap and kiss haze. The older man cradled her like she was precious- she felt precious- and he always made her feel appreciated. It had been the last thing she expected when this had started but she couldn’t deny how good it felt to know that she wasn’t just a body for him to fuck. He enjoyed spending time with her. 

“Me too.” She peeped, hiding her face back in his neck as she resumed her clinging to him. His cologne had faded a bit, leaving the last bits of it mixed with a tiny bit of coffee and his telltale soap smell of his skin soothing her down. “I’m happy. We can keep doing it, right?” 

He knew she had a bit of a shy streak when it came to softer things. A fierce and demanding girl when it came to sex, but real vulnerability had her cowering away a bit. Not to the point where he felt her pulling away from him, but showing that it still intimidated her. He nearly melted as she asked if they could continue it. As if he would ever be the one to tell her to stay away, as if he would ever be the one to break it off. As if he wasn’t completely and utterly obsessed with the girl in his arms. 

As if he wasn’t falling in love.

“As long as you’ll let me, darling, I’ll be here every day.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #bff dad #best friends dad harry #best friends dadrry #bff dadrry #dilf harry styles #harry styles age gap #Harry styles au #Harry smut #Harry fluff #Harry angst #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles angst #older harry styles #older h #older!harry #Harry styles daddy #daddy harry styles

[hughes86-43]

love confessions | N.Hischier

part 2 to this blurb!

note- tbh, I’m not good with angsty writing, so this probably didn’t turn out that good. I still hope you enjoy it!

warnings- not that I know of, but plz let me know if there are some!

Truthfully, you had no idea what day it was or what time it was. Everything had been blur since you left Nico’s house in Switzerland and flew right back to New Jersey, needing to leave before everything got much worse. Although, how much worse could it get when you showed up unannounced at your one-true loves house, told him how you felt, had no clue how he felt, and then his blonde hook up came down the steps. So yeah everything was a blur, and you had no intentions at the moment to fix it.

Currently, you’re laying in your bed, covered up in blankets, wearing the same pajamas that you threw on when you got home two days ago, and your hair up in a top knot. You had no one to see, so you didn’t put much thought into your appearance, that is until you hear a knock on the front door.

Rising up from the bed, you try to think who it could be, since your friend was at work it couldn’t have been her. You adjust a robe around your frame and try to settle down the crazy pieces of your hair. You also try to make your under eyes a bit more better since you had been staring at your phone for the whole day, but you knew there was no use.

Once again, the person at the door knocks again. You look into the peephole and see the one person who you never thought you would see again. Nico. You sigh and yell through the door, “Go away! I’m not home!”

He knocks again, “Y/N! Stop being an ass and open the door! We both know your home!”

You walk over and pull the door open, fed up with him, you reply, “Who do you get to tell to stop being an ass? Clearly, you should be telling yourself that!”

He winces, he expected that he thought. “Can we not do this in the doorway? I just want to talk and explain.” You sigh, contemplating. “Please, just hear me out and then you can decide if you want me to leave, and I’ll leave.”

Deciding to forgo an actual answer, you just turn from the doorway and walk deeper into the apartment, hoping he would get the hint to come on in. He does, and he shuts the door and kicks off his shoes.

You grab a water from the fridge, not bothering to ask him if he wants one. You point to the couch for him to sit while you choose to continue standing. “Well, go ahead,” you tell him as he hasn’t talked in about two minutes.

“Okay, one, I’m sorry about how I acted when you arrived at my doorstep. I was honestly just shocked and hadn’t expected you to show up.”

“Or hadn’t expected someone to interrupt your little hookup?” You let out a dry laugh.

“Stop, we’re not at that part yet.” Nico says as he fiddles with the couch cushion.

“Oh, then what part are we at then?” You ask, standing with your hands on your hips waiting for an answer. Although you’re still in your pajamas and robe, you honestly didn’t care.

He sighs and looks back up at you, “We’re at the part where I tell you that you’ve always been the one, and I just hadn’t realized it.”

You widen your eyes at his words, letting out another dry laugh, “Oh, really? How’d you come to that conclusion? Was the blonde not good enough for you, so you had to come running to me?”

“Listen to me, will you?” Nico says, standing up from his spot on the couch. “The blonde girl was one of my friends, she’s with one of my guy friends, and she was there because she waiting on him to get back. She heard most of the conversation and came downstairs, not expecting to see you there. So honestly, I’ve never hooked up with her, and I had no girl with me when you showed up.”

You wince a bit, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Nico stands awkwardly there, trying to gauge how the rest of this conversation will go.

You run your fingers over your cheek, and walk to the chair by the couch to sit down. Leaning back into it, you ask, “Then, why did you let me leave? Why didn’t you even say anything?”

“Honestly, I was shocked you showed up at my door. I wasn’t expecting it, and I certainly wasn’t expecting you to tell me how you liked me.” He flops back down on the couch. “I know I should’ve stopped you, and I truly did feel bad, but I still let you go. I’m sorry, and if that isn’t good enough, then I’m still sorry.”

You nod, “It’s okay, honestly I shouldn’t have ran, I was just scared that I let out how I felt about you, and you didn’t feel the same way back, so I was scared that it would end whatever friendship we had.” You look down at your hands.

Nico gets up from the couch and kneels infront of you. He reached out to lift your chin up, “Hey, I know I was stupid for how I acted in that moment. However, I’m still glad that you came and told me how you felt. I’ve been wanting to tell you since forever, but I guess I thought you would realize how much better of a guy you could get than me. Someone that doesn’t have to travel all over the place, someone that would be constantly there for you.”

You move your hand to run it through his brown locks. “Nico, I could never be with a guy that is as good as you. So what you travel so much for hockey, it’s what you love to do, and I’m not going to take that from you. I love you, a lot actually.”

“You do?.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“Ha, yes! Didn’t the whole me coming to Switzerland and spilling my feelings for you, not convey that?” You laugh out.

Nico gives you a big smile, “Yeah. Yeah, it did.” He kisses your forehead.

“I guess we could’ve said this way sooner, if we just got out of our heads about it.” Nico laughs at that. He stands back up and offers a hand to help you up. You take it, and he pulls you into a hug.

Melting into his embrace, you say, “Come on, I’m tired, I haven’t slept in two days. You looked tired as well, so let’s go to my bed.”

“Lead the way, babe. I’m all yours,” he says as you drag him into your room.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fics #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics

[roguelov]

Only in Dreams

Summary: Married to Dream of the Endless, for centuries, you never expected to feel neglected. Yet even after his return, his attention turned to the Dreaming and ensuring its stability and future. While, your own needs and wants pulled at you. And soon your dreams were slowly filled with pleasure. Just not exactly from Morpheus.

Word Count: ~4k

Reader: Afab

Warning: smut (unprotected sex, oral receiving (afab), switch!reader, switch!dream, dirty talk, fingering), bits of angst, and some fluff

Tags: @lizajane2, @layla2-49

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

Soft light filtered through the tall windows. Specs of dust glowed in the light, casting a dreamlike hazy in the air. The royal library was a spectacular sight. Endless floors, and winding mazes of shelves, continued to grow and grow.

Comforting, and welcoming.

Yet, a squeaky cart echoed, disrupting the peace. Or it would if anyone else were here enjoying the thousands and thousands of books.

It was you, and you alone. You wheeled around the infernal cart, shelving new books added to the Dreaming. While, Lucienne was off collecting a new census, and as you suspected, a reason to step outside the library’s walls.

But, company soon appeared.

“And what are you doing?” A presence loomed behind you.

Smiling to yourself, you barely turned your head in acknowledgement. “Shelving books.”

Morpheus hummed. “Care to have some company?”

“I would love some,” you smiled. You continued to move down the bookshelf with Morpheus trailing along like your shadow. “So, what have you been up to, my king?”

Morpheus moved to the side of you. “Usual business.”

“How vague,” you teased a bit.

A smile twitched on his lips. “I do not wish to bore you with all the details on how to run a kingdom.”

You hummed, twisting to shelve another book. A mistake. Instantly, like a spring loaded viper, Morpheus pressed himself against your back. His hands curled around the shelves above, white knuckling it. Still facing ahead, you smirked to yourself, “Yes, my king?”

His hand fell from the wooden shelves, and circled around your waist. “Why do you address me as such? Call me by my name, sweetness.”

You leaned your head back and whispered in his ear. “Morpheus.”

A groan rumbled in his throat.

Your heart skipped. It was such a beautiful noise. You laughed through your nose. “I think you have lied to me. I think you are the one in need of some company.”

“Is that a problem?” He buried his face into your neck.

“No.”

“Good.” He pressed a gentle kiss, almost desperate to refrain himself, in the crook of your neck. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he breathed into the shell of your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “You have tainted my thoughts all day, I could not focus at all.”

You spun around in his grasp. Books and shelves dug into your back. But, you didn’t mind. “Oh, have I? And what have you thought about?”

His lips skimmed over your neck. “Treacherous things.”

You bit your lip, and craned your neck. “Tell me.”

“Where do I start?” He nipped at your skin, eliciting a low hum from you. “One was you, your lovely bare body, laid out for me on our silk sheets. And you were squirming under my constant touch.” His hands travelled over your body. A hand snaked up, skimming over your breast and wrapped around your throat. He lifted his head, gauging your reaction. Your eyes were glassy with lust. A mimic of his own. He laughed through his nose. His hand trailed down and gripped your hips. “And you were making the most wondrous noises.”

You sighed, lost in his touch and spellbinding words. Your hands latched into his hair, needing him closer and needing to ground yourself.

He hummed as you carded your fingers through his hair. His thumbs rubbed teasing circles on your hips. All of it calculated, all of it to pull you in. It was so far, yet so close to where you truly needed him. “One was us on my throne with you on top. Your head was thrown back as you cried out in pleasure.”

You let out a shaky breath. Fuck. You rubbed your legs together wishing for some sort of relief.

“Another was here in the royal library,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “tucked away in a corner, like now. And we have to be, oh so, quiet but you, my love, could barely contain yourself.”

You tugged on his hair, making him moan quietly. You laughed, “I could not contain myself? Are you sure it wasn’t yourself you were mistaking?”

His eyes sparked with hunger, his lips curled into a devious smirk. “Shall we test this theory?”

You opened your eyes.

Black silk drapery. Not the captivating blue of a certain Endless. Soft cushioning hugged your back. Not sharp, somewhat uncomfortable, edges of books and wooden shelves.

It was a dream.

A idiotic dream.

You laid here in bed, and not in the royal library about to have a battle of wits and pleasure. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the dream. His voice still echoed through your head like a siren’s call. You rolled over. Empty. You reached over touching the spot where Morpheus would sleep.

Cold.

You sighed, frowning slightly. He must have left a while ago. It was sweet he did not wish to disturb you, but you wished he did.

You needed him.

In many ways right now.

However, you did not blame Morpheus. He had finally returned after so many years away. He had regained his tools, and had more power which he hadn’t had in ages. He was stronger, and wiser too. But, the years away, also brought paranoia. He didn’t want the Dreaming to fade as it did. Rebuilding it all from ruins was a long tiring journey, and now the Dreaming was thriving. Dreamers rejoiced. But, he still worried. He had busied himself with every detail, with every minor issue, to ensure an everlasting success.

And in doing so, he had started to neglect you.

His love.

Of course, in the first week of his return, he hardly left your side. He worshiped you like a fallen devotee begging for your forgiveness, he murmured his love on every square inch of your body, and he showed you again and again how years away had ruined him.

But, a kingdom needed their king.

His attention drifted back to the Dreaming, and ever so slowly he drew away from you.

You sighed, sitting up.

Your hands rested in your lap. You fiddled with the black band on your left hand. A simple band dipped in an inky onyx black, yet when you twisted it, it shone like far off galaxies: purples, blues, flecks of green, and twinkling stars. It resembled Morpheus, and his love, in every way.

You softly kissed the ring. “Morning, my sweet king.”

With a heavy heart, and a droop in your shoulders, you got out of bed and went off to find work.

Day after day.

Night after night.

The fissure between you and Morpheus grew. And so, those dreams became more and more frequent, and more intense.

And you couldn’t turn away from it.

Morpheus slid down your naked body. His eyes, once a delicate enchanting blue, now sharp and filled with a dangerous hunger. His lips dragged the curves of your body. Goosebumps chased after him. You wiggled, and hummed.

His lips skimmed further and further then -

He darted around where you so desperately wanted him. He peppered butterfly kisses across your inner thigh. Fleeting and soft, all of it left you wanting.

“Morpheus,” you whined.

He chuckled and nipped at your thigh. You gasped. “Patience, my love,” he whispered.

He moved to the other side, leaving a new trail of kisses, and marks, on your thigh. You bunched up the bedsheets. “Please, Morpheus.”

Off, in the outer edges of the Dreaming, a king heard his love call out his name. Morpheus, who was diligently working on new dreams and nightmares, spun around. He cocked his head. Did he truly hear you?

“Morpheus.”

His eyebrows knitted together. Why did you call him? Why now? Has something happened?

Curious, he stepped away from his soon to be creations. The bind that connected the two of you, tugged at his chest. Taking a single step, the dark sandy beach vanished like wisps of fog. It was all replaced with a bedroom: your shared bedroom.

And a sight was there to greet him.

You sprawled out on the bed, legs spread, as himself - a copy - buried his head between your thighs.

A dream. You dreamt all of this.

The fake gently blew on your needy core. His eyes flickered up. Your face was turned and buried into the pillow. Your lips parted. Your heavy breathing filled the silence, anticipating - begging - for his next move.

Morpheus stared stunned. His mouth agape.

The fake swiped over your folds with the flat of his tongue, then sucked on your clit. Your jaw dropped as your eyes shut in pleasure. The fake finally dove in. His expert tongue swirled and stroked all the right spots.

“Morpheus,” you moaned.

Your hands flew to his tousled hair, gripping it for dear life. Your back arched in pleasure. The fake hummed, sending your mind spinning. You squirmed. His firm hand pressed on your stomach forcing you down and still.

Morpheus, the real one, couldn’t look away.

Emotions clashed inside of him: anger, sorrow, jealousy, and also spikes of desire. Each one desperate to dominate him, yet he couldn’t grasp on one. He could only watch numbly as a poor copy of himself pleasured you.

You bucked your hip, trying to ride his face. The fake chuckled. The vibrations sent another wave of pleasure through you. You began chanting his name over and over like a broken prayer.

“Come, my sweetness,” the fake mumbled against you.

Morpheus left.

He didn’t wish to see anymore.

Now, he had something he must do.

The next morning, you still woke to an empty bed. The dream from the night before was muddled and hazy but a dull ache lingered in your heart. Yet, you continued on. You put your head down and got to work. Lucienne mentioned something the other day about needing assistance, so you went there.

Hours passed.

You never saw Morpheus. Unfortunately, as you predicted.

You and Lucienne chatted and laughed. Your own sorrows were forgotten for a fleeting moment. However, neither of you were aware of the shadow looming around you. A certain someone who still couldn’t comprehend what he saw last night.

He watched as you smiled and laughed as if nothing happened.

And in a way, nothing did.

Morpheus simply saw something he wasn’t supposed to. But, it continued to dig at him. Why? Why didn’t you come to him? Why did you act as if everything was fine? Why were you hiding this?

Later, he decided. He would address this later.

In the waning hours of the day, snuggled in a plush chair in your grand bedroom, you mindlessly flipped through a book. One, you weren’t truly reading. Your eyes scanned over the pages. Letters barely formed words. They skittered over the page and swirled tirelessly in your mind.

You huffed, setting your book down. You turned your attention to the flickering fireplace. Its heat warmed your cheeks, surrounding and filling you. As you stared at the whipping colors, your mind drifted to where it wished to go since the beginning.

Your dreams.

Your damned dreams that ran rampant.

You couldn’t free yourself from them. Morpheus now consumed your every thought, consumed your every needs. Physically and emotionally.

A door creaked open.

You peered behind you to see Morpheus. You smiled easily, your head resting back. “Hello, my sweet king.”

“Hello, my love.”

Not expecting any more of this conversation, you turned back to the fire. You suspected Morpheus to go to bed, weary from a day’s work. However, he surprised you. He sat down in the chair across from you. His coat wiped and flourished. His fingers threaded together resting them on his lap. His matching onyx band twinkled in the fire light. His eyes slid over to the flames.

The crackle of fire filled the pressing silence.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was solely on the fire. His lips puckered in thought.

You may not have been physical in weeks, but it was daunting seeing how in recent days you hadn’t properly spoken to one another. It was awkward, and a little unnerving. It felt as if a stranger sat across from you.

“Are,” you began, getting Morpheus’s attention, “are you okay?”

Morpheus cocked his head in minor confusion. “Am I?”

“Yes, are you?”

“My sweetness, I am perfectly fine.”

You nodded.

“It is you who I worry about.”

Now, you were confused. “Me? Why?”

He sighed. The time has come. He got up and strolled over to you in three easy strides. Standing over you, he cupped your face. “Have I truly made you feel so abandoned?”

You scrunched up your face. “Abandoned? No, not -“

“My love, please, do not lie.”

“Morpheus, sweet Morpheus,” you hummed, smiling at him. Despite the obvious ache in your heart. “I don’t feel abandoned. I know of your duties and everything you must do.”

“But.”

You smiled softly. “I’m okay, I swear. You simply worry too much.”

The Dreaming is more important, you thought.

“Worry? Is it wrong to worry when I have forgotten the one I love?” He huffed. His thumb began to rub soothing circles on your cheek. “Yes, I do worry but, right now, I am more upset than anything.”

“Morpheus -“

“You needn’t lie for my pride. I already know the truth.”

You blinked.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “I have left you alone - needing - so you sought pleasure elsewhere.”

“What?” Your heart skipped. Fearful and slightly ashamed.

“You have used the Dreaming to create another me to fill your needs. I heard you calling out and to say I was surprised at the sight I saw is an understatement.”

Your cheeks warmed. You didn’t think he - “Morpheus, it’s fine. Honestly I don’t know why -“

“Tell me what you want.”

“Excuse me?”

He cupped your face with both hands, gently tilting your head back. He bent down. His lips brushed over yours, instantly drawing you in. “Tell me what you want, my love. Use me to fill your needs.”

“Morpheus -“

“Don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “A husband should care for the one they swore to love for eternity. And I have put my attention elsewhere. I’ve hurt you.”

Your hands slowly moved up bunching the front of his shirt. You haven’t had him - the real him - so close in a while. “You didn’t hurt me.”

It was the truth. You still loved him, always will.

He laughed once through his nose and smiled. “You are too good for me.”

Your hands wandered up further threading into the ends of his hair. You curled your fingers softly, nails scraping against the base of his head. He closed his eyes and hummed.

You bit back a knowing smirk. “It seems you have also neglected your needs, my sweet king.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I have.”

You finally pulled him in.

Your lips melded together. Like two puzzle pieces. Electricity ripples through your body. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He greedily followed your lead. You forcibly yanked on his hair. He moaned, opening his mouth. The perfect opportunity. Your tongue snuck in.

He groaned.

Your heart jumped. Oh, how you loved the noises he made. It drove you crazy. Each hum, each moan, seemed to go through you.

He smirked against you.

Although he may give himself over to you, he did enjoy teasing you. As your tongue swirled around, soon Morpheus quickly gained control. He knew exactly what to do and knew your own body better than yourself. In seconds, you were a puddle in his grasp.

You whimpered.

He gently guided you to your feet. His expert fingers trailed down your spine leaving sparks. Morpheus’s hands moved to your hips. You threw your arms over his shoulders bringing him impossibly close. You both clumsily stumbled around. Yet, your chest started to constrict. Your lungs burned. Air, you needed air. You broke the kiss and rested your forehead on his. Your chest heaved in chaotic unison.

Morpheus drawed your hips closer.

The simple friction was fire across your starved skin. You bit the inside of your cheek, humming.

“What do you want?” He whispered.

“You,” you breathed out.

You walked forward, pushing Morpheus backwards until he hit the edge of the bed. He flopped. His arms sprawled out to the sides, his coat draped behind him, his hair pointed in all directions, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and swollen, and his eyes - oh his eyes - were soft in absolute adoration.

He smiled lovingly up at you. “Use me as you wish, my love.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You crawled up on top of him. You pulled him into another deepening kiss. He hummed, his hands flew up gripping your hips.

But, you ended the kiss quickly.

He groaned, disappointed.

You kissed the corner of his lips, down his face, over and up his jaw, then to his neck. He craned his neck back. You peppered kisses up and down his neck, and when you hit a certain spot, right at the crook, Morpheus’s hands tightened, possibly bruising your hips.

You smirked against his skin.

You nipped at him, starting to mark his perfect skin. He groaned, “(Y/N).”

It sent shivers down your spine, and directly to your core. His deep resonance, his pleas, it was dizzying.

Your hands snuck under his shirt tracing every taunt muscle. Your lips moved over his neck to the other side. He leaned, giving you easy access to nip, bite, and mark more of his skin. Your palm laid flat over his chest. His heart thrummed.

You leaned back.

He breathed heavily. His brilliant eyes darkened.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him up. Your lips smashed together, hot and heavy. And now, he decided to return the favor. His lips ghosted over your neck. Such a simple touch made your head fall back as you groaned.

He smirked.

Needing more, you grinded down.

Morpheus moaned, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Do that again, my love, and I won’t be able to control myself,” he mumbled.

You smirked, grinding down again. He chuckled darkly. He pulled back looking at you in the eye. His index finger and thumb wrapped around your chin, bringing you closer. “Is that what you want?”

Your pleasure meant the world to him. He wanted it to be about you.

“Yes,” you murmured.

“As you wish, my sweetness.”

You feverishly tore off each other’s clothes. Each layer fluttered to the bedroom floor, piles upon piles. Morpheus laid you gently on your back on the dark sheets. He hovered over you. He bent down kissing you softly. You hummed, knotting your fingers in his already messy hair. He pulled away, licking his lips.

Biting back a smile, you slowly pushed him downward. He smirked, taking your not so subtle hint. His lips trailed down your body.

His talented mouth kissed down the valley between your breasts then over to one. Slowly, taking one his mouth, he swirled his tongue over your perked nipple. You sighed, tightening your grip in his hair. His hand kneaded your other neglected breast. Working you, sending you into pleasure. He pinched your nipple.

“Morpheus.”

He popped out your breast and switched, working on the other one. You arched your back, moaning. He knew exactly what to do. He knew how to rile you up in the most delicious taintilizing ways. All of it, leaving you needing and begging for more.

His eyes flickered up. Your eyes were closed, as you fell apart to his touch. Smiling against your skin, he moved farther down, kissing and nipping at your skin. He nipped at your hips, then down your inner thigh.

You squirmed.

You were dripping, desperate for any friction, for some sort of relief. One finger dragged between your folds collecting your wetness. “Morpheus, please,” you begged.

“Patience, my love.”

One finger slid in, soft simple strokes. He was teasing you. Not offering you enough. You bucked your hips begging for more, desperately trying to ride his one finger.

Then he dove in.

His tongue swirled around your clit. You sighed in pleasure, and tugged on his hair. Another finger slid in. He pumped you, a soft rhythm, gently stroking your walls.

He curled his fingers, beckoning you.

You gasped. Your eyes flew open, and peered down at him. His dark eyes met yours. Buried between your thighs, he stared unwavering up at you. Heat spread throughout you. He curled his fingers again.

You moaned, your head falling back.

Each stroke brought you closer and closer and -

He stopped.

He removed his fingers and pulled away completely leaving you feeling utterly empty. You whined. Looking down at him, he put his two fingers, covered in your juices, in his mouth. He moaned at your taste. His tongue swirled around his fingers leaving you wishing it was you.

You bit your lip, whimpering.

He chuckled. “Do not worry, my sweetness. I’ll help.”

Crawling over top of you, he paused. He stared lovingly down at you. You smiled reaching up, cupping his face. He turned his head kissing your palm and down your inner wrist. He brought your hands over your head. Your fingers intertwined together. Your band and his clacked together.

He lined himself up.

He bent down kissing you.

Without warning, he slid in.

You moaned against his mouth, and he eagerly swallowed the noise. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours. His dazzling blue eyes bore down at you. You smiled softly at him.

He rocked his hips.

Your face twisted in pleasure.

Slow and steady pace. Each movement filled and stretched you, each movement a show of his undying affection, each movement an apology for leaving you.

“Morpheus,” you whined.

“I know, bear with me, my love.” He dropped his head onto your shoulder. He kissed your skin as he gently rocked his hips. “You are truly too good for me.”

You tightened your hands in his. “I love you, Morpheus. Nothing will change that.”

“And I love you.”

He bucked his hips at a different angle. You moaned, arching your back. “Morpheus, please, faster.”

He smiled, and teasingly said. “If that is what you want.”

“Yes, more than anything.” You mewled.

He snapped his hips.

A new relentless pace. A string of curses left your lips. You instantly wrapped your legs around his hips. Pressure build and build. Your walls hugged his cock wonderfully, as he hit all the right spots. Like before, he knew your body well.

His heavy breathing fanned across your already hot skin.

He slipped one hand free from your grasp. Tracing down between your molded bodies, his finger circled around your clit. “Fuck,” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Ah, look at me, my love.”

You cracked open your eyes to see the endless blue. He expertly swirled his finger again. Your mouth fell open.

“You are divine,” he whispered. Your wall fluttered around him, warning him. He groaned. He knew you were about to reach your end, and soon so was he. “Come for me.”

You whined.

“Come for your dear husband.”

His words fueled the already burning fire.

You cried out his name as you clamped down around him.

He smiled to himself.

He continued to work you through your orgasm sending you higher than before. Until, you were completely filled with ecstasy. You writhed beneath him, repeating only his name. Your mind clouded in only absolute pleasure.

Morpheus soon followed after. Your name tumbled off his lips in a low groan. He hovered over you, breathless. You smiled lazily, brushing his hair out of his flushed face.

He smiled down at you.

He fell down into the sheets. You instantly crawled over to him laying your head on his chest. Your ear pressed to his heart listening to its erratic beat as it began to slow down. His arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go. Not ever again. His finger drew lazy shapes on your still hot skin.

“If you need anything, do tell me,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you whispered against his skin.

His index finger titled your chin back. His eyes connected with yours, and he smiled softly. “Please,” he repeated, “do not think your needs are less than. You are more important in every way.”

You matched his smile. “Do not say that or I’ll have you trapped in here.”

He laughed once. “Please do from time to time.”

You laughed.

He bent his head pressing a loving kiss to your lips. You sighed, closing your eyes. Slowly, he pulled away and whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#the sandman #Morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus smut #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagines #dream imagine #the sandman imagine #smut #afab!reader

[polakina]

how they respond to suggestive texts

call of duty headcanons #6

hc masterlist // masterlist

on an absolute mission to get so much content out rn, my two days off have proved efficient ahaha

rating: explicit

-

baffled. was not expecting it at all

he thought he'd have an easy night in doing paperwork in his office until his phone pinged

half expected it to be laswell

damn near dropped his phone when he read the message from you

"i need you, john."

he wasn't used to this sort of advance

he was old school, preferred this sort of thing face to face, but didn't mind straying from his ways of normality

"you need me? well how could i say no to you?"

that was all it ever took, really

he'd always come find you, seeking out what you wanted from him

but it always ended the same way

he'd find you in his bedroom, rolled on your stomach facing the door, waiting for him to enter through it

"need something from me, love? you could have asked."

he could never gauge your texts, what emotion or tone was lurking behind your words

but that's what you liked most about it. the fact he always had to come and find out what you wanted

it could be a favour, it could be a simple question, or it could be this

he saw it in your eyes

"i did ask."

"not really though, hmm?"

he never felt the control of the situation he was used to feeling. not when you had him crawling to your room

"got you here though, didn't i?"

you always had the same smirk on your face when he came striding over to you by the side of the bed, meeting your lips in a kiss as he rolled you over, crawling on top of you

he liked receiving those messages after that

couldn't respond immediately

had no idea what to say back to you

he just stared at him phone for a few moments

"what are you doing right now? i can't sleep"

he never really responded to these sorts of messages, instead he took the physical action of just coming to you

you classed whatever was happening between you as a sort of casual convenience

a simple text had him coming to knock at your door within minutes

and after that, you went about your day until inevitably sending or receiving a similar message a few nights later

"can't sleep, hmm?" he'd ask, leaning against the door frame of your room on base. a smirk always painted his face, expecting the message at some point in the night. "perhaps i can keep you company."

he knew exactly what you needed

fucking you raw until you couldn't feel your legs anymore

your ass in the air, face pressed against the pillows, hands behind your back and held there with his own wrapped around your wrist

he pounded into you until your voice grew hoarse and your body gave out from under you

the sheets were soaked with your juices, your hair strewn over your face from his unrelenting thrusts, sweat slicking your skin

he didn't stop. not until you were limp under his touch

his free hand held your hip, steadying your body as his hips connected with your ass, slapping roughly against your skin and pulling obscene noises from his throat

"fucking hell, love. i should have come here sooner. would have had more time with you."

wouldn't admit it, but loved it when you messaged for him to come to you

was usually waiting at his phone for it to ping with your name popping up on the screen

his heart gets all fluttery at stuff like this, not that he would admit it

a big grin on his face that he can't conceal

"come to bed, johnny."

you called him johnny when you missed him. when you needed him

he often worked late in the office, losing track of time

seeing those messages, it brought a soft smile to his face

"im busy, lass. i'll be a while. go to sleep without me."

he never really caught on the first time

nor did he ever really register the meaning behind any of your messages

"i'm not tired."

"then why do you want me to come to bed?"

he could be so fucking thick sometimes

it finally clicked in his head the second he pressed send

"one second, lass." was all you received as a hasty reply before footsteps came running up the stairs

he practically dove on you the second he came into the room

"here now"

you laughed as he kissed your face and neck

"too late now. you missed your chance," you always joked

he was always late to figure it out. and you always said he'd missed his chance

"hmm...well, sweetheart, we'll see if that answer changes when your clothes are on the floor, shall we?"

liked to make a game of it

your text had him wanting to lock himself in your bedroom and have his way with you, but he restrained himself for a short while first, having fun with it

he played along, wanting to pull a plead out of you before he even thought about coming to satisfy your needs

"i miss you. how long are you going to take?"

he usually stayed late, researching, or sometimes in the armoury detailing his weapons

more often than not, he lost track of time and by the time he was ready to go to bed, it was well past midnight

so your texts usually pulled him out of focus and back to reality

"an hour or so. why, what's up?"

he didn't need to ask. he knew what was up. he always did

"come on, gaz. don't make me say it."

"say it, love."

you hated when he dragged it out. but you loved it at the same time

"i need you."

he always smirked when you finally admitted you needed him. but he liked to play it out even longer, occasionally

he read the message but never replied

it frustrated you, but you carried on

"please, gaz."

that was all he waited for

in the short time it took for him to reach your bunk, you'd have thought he'd ran across the compound

you always found that he was just as needy as you. but he had more patience

his lips were on yours before you'd even managed to close the door behind him

his hands roaming your body, pushing you against the door, hiking you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist

he took you right there and then, pushing your shorts aside, not even bothering to undress you before pushing himself inside you slowly while you adjusted

"you weren't kidding when you said you needed me," he smiled, feeling how easy it was to slip into your wet cunt

he lost all patience for waiting once fully inside you, thrusting his hips against you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your thighs tighten around him, locking him in against your body until you both reached your high

"well next time," you smiled, "don't make me wait so long."

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #captain price #captain price x reader #simon riley #fluff #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #john price #john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price smut #price x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #soap #soap cod #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader

[treysimp]

“I don’t know how else to say this… do you want to make out on my couch?”

Part 3

GN!Reader x Octavinelle (Azul, Floyd, Jade)

Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

Other chapters:

Savannahclaw | Scarabia | Octinavielle | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Heartslabyul | Diasomnia

🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

“Prefect, if you wanted to make a deal you could have just…” Azul seems to have begun reciting a canned response, one hand splayed on his chest and the other beginning to push up his glasses until he perfectly freezes in place at the realization of just what it was you asked him.

His icy eyes snap to yours in bewilderment and for once the ever-prepared businessman looks like he got hit by a truck. You weren’t going to pass this chance by.

“Oh? So you are on the table? I guess everything has a price, huh?” You giggle, smoothing your hands around the hem of his collar. You take advantage of the proximity to stare at his nervously bobbing adam's apple as Azul thickly swallows. Oh man, it’s mean to tease him like this… but…

“If having you were my wish, what would it cost me?” you say, looking up your lashes at Azul to gauge his reaction.

Azul’s mouth opens and closes uselessly, his ears flush crimson as he desperately tries to will the stalled gears in his head to turn again. You weren’t sure if he’d even looked cuter than he did right now.

“Ahah… well, I mean… this is an unprecedented request so I would need to calculate my uh expenses, the payroll deductions, line item taxes and…” his babbling trails off, clearly not sure of what he possibly is supposed to do in this situation.

He studied night and day, he voraciously devoured every single written word he could, academic and… less so as well… but in the index cards of his learning that he shuffled desperately through to find an answer, he was drawing a blank.

Azul finally broke eye contact with you and gazed towards the ground in thought, crossing his arms as his face spread into a soft smile.

“F-For you…” he pointed his finger into the distance as if he was indicating a point on a map you should see. He complimented this pose by tilting his head inquisitively to the side, handsomely framing his face with the longest curl of his silver hair

“It’s… it’s on the house.” he finally finished. Unfortunately, his attempt at a suave swoon-worthy line did not quite deliver the impact he wanted it to. Azul was flushing even deeper than he had been before trying to lay a cringy line on you. Oh god, why is he trying to be cool right now?

“Oh…” you gasped softly, “well, aren’t I just the luckiest?” you say with a grin. Taking the opportunity of your response causing Azul to lower his arms in relief, you grasped Azul by his lapels and pulled him forward into you. You carefully placed and most gentle kiss you could manage on him.

At first, Azul’s arms hovered at his sides, seemingly mirroring the frozen state he was in when you had first asked your scandalously forward question.

Within a brief second of pause, his hands were on you, desperately grasping and groping at every bit of you he could touch. Azul’s breathing sped up as he quietly moaned and gasped into your rapidly intensifying kiss.

When you two finally separated, Azul’s chest was heaving, his eyes were glassy and his perfect waves were mussed and thrown about.

Setting his mouth in a straight line, Azul looks at you with determination. Just as you were about to ask him why he was screwing up his lovely face, you felt yourself being lifted from the ground and Azul quickly tromped the both of you across the ratty living room, over to your well-worn couch.

You gasped in surprise but quickly remembered just how strong mermen seemed to be, even if they weren’t the most graceful on land. While Azul had never been one for flying during PE, you had caught him lifting suspiciously heavy objects more than once in other scenarios.

Throwing you down in a way that was perhaps less graceful than he intended, Azul nevertheless climbed on top of you in a hurry, his breath being barely visible in the air of the cool night.

His blue eyes shined from the moonlight streaming into the Ramshackle lounge, but the low light did little to hide the sheen of spit on his lips and the reddening of every square inch of his visible body.

Azul’s hands were all over you yet again, and with the amount he was able to do so quickly, you would think that he had more than two of them. Lovingly stroking, tugging, testing, caressing, it felt like he was afraid that if he stopped for even a moment he would miss something vitally important.

Hat on the ground, scarf tossed to the side, Azul set upon the rest of the garters and contraptions that held his dapper uniform to his body. He repeatedly got distracted by seeing you below him, and just as soon as he would remove one glove, he would jump back to you, smothering your skin with his touch and then undoing one or two buttons of your own. It was slow going, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look… prefect…” Azul began, his eyes earnestly staring into yours with an indiscernible emotion. He sighed deeply and started his full sentence again.

“You… you’re not signing a contract with me but… regardless I’m…” his eyes drifted off to the side, clearly contemplating how to finish his declaration.

“I am swearing to you right now. I will-! I will write it down if you want me to…” he said, his voice getting louder and more confident.

“Regardless I… I am going to do everything I can to make sure that you will never forget tonight.”

----------

“Oh? Are you trying to come on to a poor innocent eel, like me, shrimpy?”

Floyd’s eyes seem to practically glow with mirth as he leans close to examine your face, cocking his head to the side as he slips ever closer. His ever-present slouch seems to against all reason make him seem even larger when he’s using it to crowd you like this.

“I never thought that you would try to take advantage of my innocence, you know? Poor sweet me. A naive little moray amongst all of these cunning humans…” Floyd's shoulders are visibly shaking as he seems to barely be able to contain his giggles.

You came this far though, and he hasn’t said no.

Calling his bluff, you snake closer to his ear and push his long strand of dark hair back behind it.

“Do you want that, Floyd? Do you want me to sully your squeaky-clean reputation? To take advantage of you? ”

Floyd’s eyes widen as he stands eerily still for just a moment. After a few seconds of you genuinely worrying if he needed to blink, Floyd finally closed his eyes and fully shook with the laughter that he had been holding back through the entire conversation.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he gasped a few more times until finally settling down, eyes sparkling as he again leaned back down to crowd you just as he had been a minute before, quickly getting back into the character. You weren't sure why he was so attached to this bit, but you were willing to play along.

Putting his hands on either side of your head, he grinned in a way that best put his sharp teeth on display as Floyd proceeded to pin you to the door like a butterfly waiting to be mounted on a frame. All this talk about being helpless and he was going to be the one pinning you down, huh?

“I hope you understand what you’re getting into.” He whispers before finally closing the gap between his mouth and yours.

His kisses are messy and unrefined, but even so, you could tell that he wanted them just as badly as you had.

You could hear Floyd quietly whimper and sigh against your lips, chasing you every time you tried to separate from him to grab a breath and insistently pulling you back against him.

“Heya… shrimpy…” Floyd finally pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, speaking in between labored pants, his bright eyes boring into your own.

“You really want me, right? This is really happening, right?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking, but you nodded.

“Yes… I really…” he cuts you off with his mouth again and his left-hand drifts to the doorknob behind you to throw it open, tripping you both in the process.

You land on the ground with a yelp, while Floyd just lands on top of you, eyes dreamy and grin wide.

“Hey…. Can I? Do you want to?”

You sigh at him in fond exasperation.

“Do I want to do what, Floyd?”

Floyd’s giggles seem to keep him from speaking as he lowers his face to your neck to nip and playfully pepper you with the ghosts of kisses.

“Do you want to go further?”

You were mildly surprised to hear Floyd ask so respectfully, but were a little less impressed to see that he had been stripping without waiting to hear your answer.

“Floyd! You’re not even gonna wait to see if I say yes?” His eyes widen for just a moment as he stops himself with his shirt tangled around his head and the long sleeves wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold. He blinks owlishly and then puts his arms down carefully, trying not to rip the clothes that you feel he would have shredded if he were in a worse mood.

“...oh, yeah.” He pulls down his shirt for just a moment as he stares at you, holding perfectly still as he stares at you expectantly.

“The answer is yes.' you say, immediately flinching at the happy squeal that erupts from Floyd as he resumes tossing the clothing that was already partially hanging off of his body halfway across the room.

Floyd tackles you back to the floor and peppers your face in small ticklish kisses, you giggle and swat at him but he refuses to give it up.

“Shrimpy?”

“Yes, Floyd?”

“I hope you’re ready to take responsibility for being such a bad influence on sweet, little ol’ me.” he says, a malicious grin once again spreading across his face.

“It might take all night.”

----------

Complete and utter silence. If you didn’t know better you would have thought that Jade didn’t hear you, but you were well aware that he had.

You turned slowly to look at him, preparing yourself to be turned down. People don’t just sit in silence because they’re stoked about what just happened, right?

To your surprise, Jade seemed to just be observing you, hand on his chin like you were a specimen under his watch, a slight smile washing over his features as he waited patiently.

He seemed to be waiting for something, which honestly pisses you off considering the fact that the person who had just risked it all in a moment of horny weakness was you and not him. You could feel the tips of your ears burning as you tried to keep your composure.

“… Jade?”

“Yes, Prefect?”

“Are you going to respond?”

Jade tapped his gloved finger to his chin, innocently tilting his head to the side in a facade of faux confusion that greatly contrasted with the smug air that oozed out of his every pore.

“I was just basking in the moment,” Jade stated frankly, finally taking a slow step to close the gap between you.

Jade peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his jacket pocket, trailing his now bare hand down your forearm to lace his fingers in between yours.

It felt strangely intimate, to tell the truth. His skin was shockingly soft and you marvel at how immaculate his hands appear to be even though both his job and hobbies involve working with his hands.

Jade slowly tugs you inside and proceeds to elegantly settle himself on your couch, allowing you to flop unceremoniously opposite him.

He’s staring again, but his smile seems more genuine this time, not like his usual grin that never touches his eyes. This smile felt fond and disarming, a smile that you were not sure you ever had the pleasure of seeing before.

Jade reached over and threaded his fingers at the base of your head, tangling his grasp in your hair and gently tugging at your roots. Soft but still insistent, he pulls you forward to him.

His other hand deftly began unbuttoning your collar, pushing the fabric to the side to get a better view of your clavicle. Jade’s hand drifted lower and pressed firmly against the left side of your chest. At first glance, you might think that he was feeling you up, but you soon realized that he was actually trying to feel your heartbeat.

“Can I conduct an experiment? I promise it will be a pleasant one,” he said softly, his mismatched eyes drifting to your lips thoughtfully.

With a swallow, you slowly nodded. You could only hope he was telling the truth.

Jade’s body pushed further into yours until you could finally feel his petal-soft lips gliding over yours, warm breath mixing in gasps and murmurs.

“Hahh… just as I thought,” Jade mumbles as you part reluctantly from a particularly heated kiss. “It sped up. That means you meant it, right?”

Your face flushed at his implication. Does he think you would try to come on to him as a joke?

“Of course I meant it!” you said with a frown.

“I know,” Jade responded, lowering his face to kiss at the point where your shoulder met your neck. “I just had to prove it.”

Your breathing sped up as you tried not to make pathetic noises while Jade nursed on your pulse point. After a moment, his forehead landed on your shoulder with a quiet thump, and Jade heaved a quiet sigh. You look down at him questioningly, smoothing down his hair with your palm as he sat in silence.

“I think I am going to have to spend some time finding out just how fast I can make it beat,” he said finally, springing up from his place against your shoulder to push you back-first onto the couch.

His hands were quick, one working up the hem of your shirt as the other traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Alas, there’s only one way to find out for sure, hmm? This will be a fine study, don't you think?”

Who do y’all want to see next? I realize that I probably shouldn’t have made this a side blog because I can’t respond to your lovely comments in the replies 🥲 should I remake/repost these you think?

Inbox me your requests and suggestions and I would love to write more.

Also tomorrow is my birthday so if you want to scream about these boys with me that would be a great present. 🥰

Also: would any of you be interested in NSFW continuations or nah?

Thanks for reading! Love you!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #floyd x reader #jade x reader #twst x reader #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #couch series

[quin-ns]

Can you maybe write something with swiftie!reader?

I thought this sounded so cute and since I saw a couple tiktok edits of JJ to this song, it’s the one I ended up referencing 🥰

Style (JJ Maybank x Reader)

John B realized his mistake the moment he handed you the aux cord, but it was too late. You plugged your phone in and pulled your go-to playlist up.

You were in the passenger seat so it had been something he’d done without thought, but as Taylor Swift’s voice came over the speakers, Kiara leaned between the seats.

“See, now why would you do that?” she questioned John B

“Hey! Her songs are really good,” you argued, looking back at Kiara.

“They are, but you play this one way too much.”

You rolled your eyes at Kie and opened your mouth to speak, but JJ crammed his way to the middle to be able to lean over your seat. The action made you smile, especially when he backed you up.

“Let her play what she wants,” JJ jumped in. “Besides, I like this one. “Style”, right?”

“10 points to JJ!” you cheered overdramatically, mostly just to watch Kie roll her eyes.

You noticed the sly grin appear on JJ’s face right before he asked, “Do I get a prize?”

That look he got when he was only focused on you crossed his face. You loved it.

You grabbed his chin lightly in one hand and pulled him in close enough for you to be able to press a kiss to his lips.

“You guys are gross,” Kie grumbled, moving to sit back in her spot.

“Please don’t make out in front of us,” Pope requested a little uncomfortably, finally making himself known.

“Jeez, Pope,” JJ drawled when the two of you parted. “It was just a kiss, not making out. When we do make out, you’ll know.”

Pope cringed at the implication while you jokingly swatted at your boyfriend.

While you had control of the music, you only played Taylor Swift. You let a variety play out, but went back to “Style” more than once.

At one point when you played it a second time, even though he was sitting behind you, you realized JJ was humming the tune and occasionally muttered out some of the lyrics to himself.

It brought you joy, and that was partially why you ended up playing it yet another time. You knew all the complaints were non-serious, so you didn’t see a problem. Besides, you put up with their music tastes all the time, they could handle it.

Later, when it was just the two of you lounging out in the hammock while the others resided inside the Chateau, JJ brought it up.

He was laying on his back with his arm wrapped around you. You laid mostly on your side next to him, your head on his shoulder.

“Why do you like that song so much?” he wondered, probably realizing he hadn’t asked before.

You knew exactly which one he was talking about. You tilted your head up and found him looking down at you. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly why.

“Parts of it make me think of you,” you admitted. JJ didn’t say anything, waiting for you to explain. ““James Dean daydream”?” you recited, gauging his reaction. ““Long hair slicked back, white T-shirt”?”

As your luck would have it, to further prove your point, JJ was wearing his favorite white T-shirt. You pinched the fabric between your fingers and that caused him to look down at himself.

JJ’s brows pinched together. “My hair’s not that long.”

You chuckled at how he analyzed the lyrics.

“Long enough,” you replied lightly, shrugging your shoulders in spite of the angle. “And it’s not the whole song, because our relationship isn’t in danger like that—it’s not, right?”

You weren’t asking him genuinely, you had a joking tone that he could easily identify.

“Absolutely not,” JJ still answered with certainty. “You and I are perfect.”

“I second that,” you agreed, snuggling a little closer to him. “But anyway, a few weeks ago I heard it after we hung out and that part…” you trailed off, watching him watch you.

You loved the interest JJ showed as you spoke, even over something as small as a song. It made you feel more listened to and cared about than you ever had before.

“I don’t know, it just made me think of you,” you concluded, not having a more complicated reason like he was expecting.

“It is a pretty good song, and if that means I’m on your mind, then I approve,” JJ beamed.

JJ cupped your face in his hand and leaned down to press his lips to yours. You grinned against his lips before letting your eyes slide shut and kissing him back.

JJ rolled you beneath him, his lips moving against yours with dominance.

You had an afterthought about before in the van when Pope accused the two of you of making out. You hadn’t been before, but you were now. You really hoped this one wouldn’t be interrupted.

The next time you all were in the van, JJ rode passenger since you all took turns for the most part. When John B handed him the aux cord, a smile broke out across your face the same time Kiara rolled her eyes dramatically and Pope sighed when his chosen song came on.

“Seriously, dude? You too?” John B asked, more amused at his friend playing Taylor Swift than annoyed.

When “Style” got to the chorus, JJ looked over the seat. He gave you a smile in return before sitting back down properly.

“What?” he questioned with a shrug, facing John B. “I like this one.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #request #asks #quin-ns writing

[nyoomiin]

roommates: part nine.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

“Do you make all the clothes yourself?” Kunikuzushi asks curiously.

The breeze tousles his hair, sunlight filtering through the trees just so, giving his eyes an angelic glow. He feeds you a piece of chocolate whilst your hands are busy with your embroidery. You’ve been friends for a few months now, and have known each other for longer still, but there are many things you’ve yet to learn about each other.

You shake your head, back bumping into tree bark. “Recently, yeah. My father used to help me with it before.”

“Oh,” he says. “The first set of clothes you made for me… Did your father help you with that?”

“Nope!” you declare proudly. “That set was the first set I finished all by myself.”

You’re still quite proud of the fact your first professional creation had met such a lovely owner. Honestly, it almost felt like destiny Kunikuzushi had walked in at that moment, right after sewing an outfit that looked perfect on him.

“Oh,” he says again. Pink dusts cheeks.

“Hey, when exactly is your birthday?”

Kunikuzushi ponders for a moment, then shrugging dejectedly. “I don’t know if I even have one.”

“Don’t be silly — everyone has a birthday,” you tell him. “I turn fifteen in a few weeks. You can share a birthday with me if you want.”

His eyes widen, neck whipping around to stare at you. You laugh. It was as if he couldn’t possibly understand why anyone would want to share something so precious with him.

“Can I really…?”

“Of course. A birthday party for two means double the gifts!”

He beams, and it's the prettiest fucking thing you've seen in your life.

You blink, and you can’t help but do a double-take.

Kunikuzushi had cut his hair. He fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, shyly looking up at you, gauging your reaction. You wonder why he cut it — you know he liked it long. Still, the both of you weren't as young as you had been all those years ago. Maybe he just wanted to make a change.

It's nice, you think. Though, it gave him a much sharper look. Oddly enough, it suits him well. You grin. “It's perfect.”

“You think so?” He perks up immediately. “I cut it myself.”

“Yeah! It looks a bit choppy at the back though. Want me to help you even it out?”

You seat him down on a stool, grabbing a pair of trimming scissors you usually used for thread. Your hand brushes against his neck, and he startles minutely. You laugh. “Don't worry, I’ll be careful.”

“Huh? This…” You push away his hair to take a clearer look. There’s an odd tattoo on his nape — the symbol of electro, an electrifying violet against his porcelain skin. The symbol of the Electro Archon.

He gasps softly, slapping a hand over the tattoo and whipping his head to look at you. “It — It's not what it looks like…!”

And that was how you found out about Kunikuzushi's birth — no, creation.

You were fifteen when you had met Kuni, and you were shy of eighteen now. You had grown, and he had changed.

He is much less meek now, but emotional all the same. Ecstatic when he is happy, devastated when he is sad, and explosive when he is mad — sometimes, you think he feels much more than you ever did.

That day, you meet under the sakura tree as you have always, and he has a troubled, worrisome look on his face. He looks best when he is cheery, you think. Not when he has storms in his eyes and thorns in his heart.

“What's with the long face?” you ask, and wrapping your arms around his waist and drawing him into a hug.

He lets you pull him down onto the ground, saying nothing as you rest your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of his breaths. He releases a shuddery sigh, but it is when his breathing halts when you realise something is wrong.

“I thought the name Kabukimono had been forgotten by now,” he starts. “But — Are you listening?”

You were listening — just not to his words. You were listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

You had never noticed it before, for his breaths had always drowned out the beat of a heart, and you had assumed a puppet merely had a fainter heart. Yet agitated as he was today…

“You don't have a heartbeat,” you say in a quiet awe. “That's so… Damn.”

He stiffens.

Then, he jerks away from you roughly, and you almost fall over. You huff. “What was that for?”

“Kuni…?” you ask hesitantly.

The violet in his eyes had become lightning storms, his body drawn tight with tension. He seemed to be working himself into a dangerous sort of rage, and when he reaches for you, his speed causes you to flinch, just the slightest.

His gaze shoots towards you, wrathful. “You — How could you? I thought…”

He stops then, glowering, turning on his heel and leaving.

“Kuni!” You yell, scrambling after him.

He doesn't turn back to look, even as you trip on a tree root.

(It is only hours later that you realise his expression looked a lot more like heartbreak than rage.)

It has a week since you last spoke to Kunikuzushi, a week since that sort-of fight. He has been avoiding you, that you know, but you haven't a clue why. Still, you'd make him talk to you even if it was the last thing you did. Knowing him, he jumped to some horrible misunderstanding that day and was too prideful to reach out to you first. He was your precious friend though, so even if he wouldn't, you would.

But before you go to Kuni, you had to meet up with Niwa.

The furnace had been malfunctioning for a while now, and Niwa had commissioned you for some new uniforms for the workers. Apparently, anything that came out of the furnace was rendered unusable. So, here you were, on your way to deliver the new uniforms.

Hm, you make a mental note to buy some dango on your way back. Kuni loved dangos.

… You don't know it yet, but you never do end up getting dangos.

“Niwa,” you call, “I'm here.”

You don't get a response, so you let yourself in. It's not like you could just leave the uniforms by the door, could you? Anyway, he wouldn’t mind. You glance around the office. It's oddly silent, though the stench of iron is particularly strong. Well, it was a mine, after all. But had Niwa not come to work today?

Lugging in your basket of garments, you trip over something on the floor. Eh? You glance down.

You scream.

Someone laughs, high and cold and cruel. Your gaze finds a blue-haired man emerging from behind the shutter.

“What a delightful development,” the man says languidly, smiling with all his teeth. “The heart of his beloved would do just perfectly. Do not worry, for I will send you off painlessly.”

Everything happens within a fraction of a moment.

The man lifts a hand. There is a wretched, piercing squelch. You stagger, hand reaching for your heart. It's stained in red. It's stained in agony.

He lied, you think.

Your world goes black.

You jerk upright with a strangled gasp.

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @mostlymoth @thenyxsky @kiyiiaarchived @skyvella

#—stellaronhvnters. #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche #WE ALMOST DONE RAHHH

[guccifrog]

MEDDLE ABOUT P3

TW: this chapter mentions SA please don't read if you don't feel comfortable

band!chris sturniolo X reader

warnings: swearing/ band chris/sa

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᵒʳⁱᵍⁱⁿᵃˡ ʷᵒʳᵏ// ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵖʸ

˚ ༘ ·˚꒰Meddle about-chase atlantic꒱ ₊˚ˑ

1:35 ━━━●───── 3:47

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

ʷᵉˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵒʷ

part 2

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

y/n's pov

"Have a good day and- and oh you better be on time tomorrow!"My boss's words echoed as I walked out of the store, swinging my tote bag over my shoulder. I let out a sigh, the cold air stinging my cheeks. It was only 6:00 PM, but I had asked him for an early dismissal since I still had to get ready for that stupid party tonight. Ugh, why did I ever agree to go in the first place?

I hurried down the busy street, weaving between people who seemed to be in just as much of a hurry as I was. The thought of that stupid party only made me more impatient, but I knew I had to go. I really regret saying yes but I can't cancel on Liv last minute. She'd kill me.

Thirty minutes later, I finally made it home, my shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The moment I stepped inside our tiny apartment, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my bed, too tired to even change out of my clothes. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told me I had exactly an hour to get ready.

I pushed myself up off the bed, wincing as I stretched out my stiff muscles. I groaned and walked over to my tiny closet, rummaging through the hangers and mess of clothes until I found something halfway decent to wear.

I didn't want to go all out but I also didn't want to look like a total loser. After much thinking, I settled on a black mini skirt with some ripped fishnets and a sleeveless band shirt that I cropped, and finally my platform dr. martens. Not my best outfit but it would have to do. I quickly straightened my hair and threw on some makeup.

"y/nnnn" Olivia called from the living room. I let out a small groan, knowing that meant she was already waiting for me. "Just give me a minute!" I yelled back, quickly putting my rings, earrings, and necklaces on. Once I was finally satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my purse and jacket and headed out of the room.

As I stepped into the living room, I could already see the impatient look on Olivia's face. She was sitting on the couch, her posture perfect as always, wearing a fitted red dress that hugged her curves just right. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and she had a pair of black heels dangling from her fingers. "About time!" she said with a roll of her eyes. "You took forever."

I rolled my eyes playfully" Shut up I just came back from work" I said as I walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. "Besides, we have to be fashionably late "I added with a grin. Olivia laughed and smacked my arm lightly.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Are you ladies ready ?." Said a deep masculine voice. I glanced at Olivia, who nodded, indicating that it was indeed her boyfriend. We both stood up and headed towards the door.

I let Olivia open the door, not really wanting to deal with him right now. As soon as she did, her boyfriend, Alex, stepped inside, his green eyes scanning me up and down. Ew.

I always hated Alex. From the moment Olivia introduced him as her boyfriend, there was just something wrong about him. Maybe it was the way he always looked at me like I was a piece of cake, or maybe it was the way he treated Liv like shit, but she was too blind to see. Whatever it was, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around him.

As he stepped into the apartment, I glanced at Olivia, trying to gauge her reaction to his presence. She was always so damn good at pretending like everything was okay, but I could see the tension in her shoulders and the way she bit her bottom lip.

"You look amazing, Liv," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "As always." He gave her a quick kiss, making my skin crawl.

"Thanks, Alex," Olivia replied, her voice a little shaky." Let's go" I added, trying to break the awkward silence. "We're gonna be late." I grabbed my jacket from the couch and shrugged it on, hoping to hurry this whole thing along. Olivia shot me a grateful look before turning back to her boyfriend.

We got inside Alex's car, I sat in the back, as usual, and Olivia in the passenger seat. I glanced out the window as Alex drove, trying to ignore the uncomfortable silence that settled between us.

After a fifteen-minute drive, Alex finally pulled up in front of a fancy looking house. I sighed, knowing that this was going to be a long night. As we got out of the car, I couldn't help but feel a little out of place. The other girls here were dressed in designer dresses and heels, while I looked like I was going to a rave.

We walked up to the door and Alex knocked, waiting for someone to answer. A moment later, a tall, blonde girl with a smile on her face opened the door. "Alex, you're here. Come in." She stepped aside, motioning for us to enter. I shot Olivia a look as we walked in, feeling even more uncomfortable.

The house was huge, with high ceilings and expensive looking art on the walls. There were so many people here, all of them dressed to impress. I felt even more out of place than before. I tried to stay close to Olivia, hoping she would make me feel better about being here.

A few minutes passed, and I found myself getting bored. This party is lame as fuck. Olivia seemed to be having fun, talking to some of her friends, and laughing, but I was regretting coming here. I mean, I know I should support her and all, but I just can't stand this.

"Liv," I said, trying to get her attention. "Can we, like, go somewhere else or something? I'm kind of bored here." Olivia glanced over at me, a frown tugging at her lips. "Okay, hold on a second," she said before turning back to her friends.

I sighed in frustration as I waited for Olivia to finish her conversation. This party was even worse than I thought. The music was awful, the people were fake, and I was starting to feel dizzy.

I decided to go get a drink since Olivia was taking forever. I made my way through the crowd, trying not to trip over my feet in these ridiculous shoes, and finally reached the kitchen.

A group of people were already gathered around the counter chatting and laughing. I stood in the back, trying to decide what I wanted to drink, I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice, then poured some soda into it. I wasn't in the mood to drink alcohol tonight.

Just as I was about to turn back with my drink, someone bumped into me, causing me to spill soda all over my shirt. I let out a frustrated groan, already hating this night even more.

"alright motherfucker" I turned around, ready to give the person who bumped into me a piece of my mind, but the words died on my lips when I saw who it was.

"I'm so sorry- wait y/n ?"

"Matt ?" I said, my voice small. He looked just as shocked as I felt. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

He smiled. "Lucas invited the whole group" He shrugged before looking down at my now ruined shirt. " Shit..um..I'm so sorry about your shirt" He said softly.

"It's fine don't worry about it," I forced a smile, trying to play it cool.

"Matt what the fuck is taking you so long…y/n?!" A voice called out behind him, causing me to glance over my shoulder.

"hey ?" I said looking at Chris who looked so confused. "What are you doing here ?" he asked now standing next to Matt. "I'm just here with my roommate…uh…she's right there I guess," I said pointing at Olivia. She was still talking to her friends and didn't seem to notice.

"Ohhhh, I see…well…um…good to see you…I guess?" Chris said nervously, clearly not sure what to do with the situation. Matt was now talking to Nate who was standing behind Chris.

I glanced down at my shirt. I was wearing nothing but my bra under it, but they got wet as well and It was getting uncomfortable. "fuck" I muttered under my breath, and Chris seemed to notice. "you alright?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned. "Yeah, I'm fine." I lied, not wanting to make a scene.

"Wait why is your shirt wet ?" Chris asked, now looking really concerned. I glanced down at my shirt again, feeling a little self-conscious. "It's nothing," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "It's just a shirt, I'm sure it'll dry off soon." I forced a small laugh, but he didn't seem to buy it.

"Here," he said suddenly pulling his sweater over his head, revealing a black tank top underneath. "Take this." He held the sweater out to me.

"Chris it's fine really…" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"No, it's not. You need it, and it's not like I'm cold or anything. Take it." He insisted, I hesitated for a moment before finally taking the sweater from him. "Thanks, I appreciate it." I smiled softly.

He nodded, seeming satisfied." I'll go find a bathroom to change into this. Thanks again, Chris." I said, and he smiled warmly. "No problem, I'll be waiting for you here when you get back." I nodded and made my way through the crowd.

After a few minutes of searching, I finally found a bathroom, just as I was about to twist the doorknob, the door opened from inside. And as if this night wasn't already bad enough, it was none other than Alex. "Oh hey, fancy seeing you here," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Alex if you're done using the bathroom please move aside so I can get in," I said, annoyance clear in my voice. He chuckled leaning on the door frame.

"What's the hurry, Y/N? We're all friends here, aren't we?" He smirked, his eyes roaming over my body. I felt a shiver run down my spine. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my anger in check. "I'm not your friend," I said. "And I'm in a bit of a hurry."

He laughed, stepping aside but as I was about to walk past him, he grabbed my wrist. "Oh wait, where's the fire?" he said, pulling me closer. "Let me just check if you're okay…" His other hand reached up and cupped my cheek. I felt trapped, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to free myself from his grip.

"Let go of me, Alex," I hissed through gritted teeth.

He laughed, tightening his grip on my wrist. "Oh, I'm just trying to help you out. You don't have to be so…aggressive." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "You know you want this, Y/N. You've always wanted it."

I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, feeling panic rising up inside me. "Let go of me, Alex," I repeated. I felt so trapped, so helpless.

His grip tightened even more. "Oh, come on," he growled, "you're not going to make this easy, are you?" He leaned in closer than before if that was even possible, his hot breath fanning my cheek.

I couldn't breathe. "I could make you scream," he whispered into my ear, his hand still gripping my wrist so tightly it felt like it was going to break. "I could make you beg"

I felt tears prick my eyes, but I refused to let him see them. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Let me go, Alex," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

He laughed, as his hand trailed down my body, resting on my hip. "You know you want this, Y/N," he whispered in my ear, his breath sending a chill down my spine.

"Alex please let go" I plead, tears starting to fall down my cheeks.

" Alex ? Y/n ?" A voice called out from the end of the hallway and Alex finally let go slightly pushing me.

oh no no no no this can't be happening right now, I thought desperately as I felt the tears running down my cheeks, the warmth of them making me even more miserable.

Olivia stood there, her face flushed and her eyes wide with anger. "What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, her voice shaking with fury.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

lmk what you guys think ♡︎

taglist★

@mattestrella @littlebookworm803 @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @crybabycat1 @ducksturniolo @pepsiimaxx @ilovemattsworld @secret-sturniolo @fuckshitslover @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @chrislapdog @therealcody1 @rodysuntiedtie @kiarastromboli @sturnsgasoline @sunsetmill @strniololoverr @sleepysturnss @st7rnioioss

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #christopher sturniolo texts #fresh love #lets trip tour #matthew sturniolo #nicolas antonio sturniolo #x reader #angst #boy bands #chase atlantic #meddle about #NANA #nana hachi #trapnest #matthew bernard sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolos

[somber-sapphic]

Just Want To Sleep

You're sick, Natasha is stuck working, Wanda is doing her best to help you. (natasha x reader)

Word Count. 1012

----

“Please, you know me, I’m here all the time, I just want to go to sleep!” You half sobbed, pleading with the agent who was just typing away on her keyboard, effectively ignoring your desperate pleas. You shivered in your soaked sweater, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the arms of your girlfriend. Your nose was running but you were so stuffy. 

“Ms, you know I can’t let you up without your keycard.” The woman explained, rolling her eyes as tears began to slip down your flushed cheeks. 

“I am Agent Romanoff’s girlfriend. I called her, but she was in a meeting and couldn’t pick me up. I lost my wallet, dropped the keys to my apartment in a sewer grate and walked two miles to get here because I don’t have anywhere else to go. Now for the love of all the gods, let me go up or I will break something.” You breathed, your threats muddled with congestion. 

“Y/n?” A feminine voice called, pulling you away from where you were probably getting too close to the other woman. You looked over and saw Wanda half jogging over to you, brow furrowed in concern.

“Oh sweetie, what happened to you?” She cupped your cheeks in warm hands and moved one to your forehead, trying to gauge your temperature. 

“Wanda, she won’t let me up.” You sobbed, leaning into the arms of your best friend. Wanda slipped her arms around you and glared at the woman behind the desk, rubbing your back as you cried. She didn’t care that you were soaking her clothes, she was too angry. Her eyes glowed red, making the agent cower. 

“Come on honey, I’ll have Stark deal with this later. Let’s get you warmed up.” The brunette fussed, walking you to the elevator. She didn’t try to make you stop crying, didn’t push you away and didn’t say anything except to whisper words of encouragement. 

“Do you need help changing?” She asked as she led you to the room you and Nat shared when you came over. Embarrassment overcame you as you realized there was no way you could do this on your own. Then there was the sobbing. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it out loud. We’re going to get you changed, and I’ll dry your hair while we watch a movie. Nat’s going to be in a meeting with Fury for another hour or so, but I texted her and she’s trying to get out of it.” Wanda talked as she helped you undress, keeping her eyes locked on yours to reduce some of your humiliation. 

“Fuzzy PJ’s?” She murmured, rifling through your drawers to find what she knew were your favorite clothes to wear when you were sick. They happened to be Natasha’s clothes, but still. They were your favorites. 

“Where’s Tasha?” You sniffled, shivering as she helped you into Natasha’s departmentally issued sweatshirt and her softest sweatpants. She smiled gently and kissed your forehead, smoothing your hair back in a motherly show of comfort. 

“Tasha’s in a meeting Y/n. She’ll be out soon, okay? For now, why don’t we get you something for this fever?” She held out a hand that she clearly wanted you to take, but you hesitated, blinking up at her with teary eyes.

“C’mon, you won’t want to get everything in here wet, hm?” You nodded and took the offered hand, allowing yourself to be led into a small living room where she deposited you on the comfortable looking couch. You curled up with a fluffy blanket and stared at the blank TV, only moving to cough into the blanket. 

“Alright you, take this and I’ll dry your hair. What do you want to watch?” Wanda plopped down beside you and shoved a cup of medicine into your hand. Too tired to argue, you took it like a shot and leaned into your friend, smiling when she turned on The Lion King. It was your favorite movie of all time and she knew it. 

The witch carded her fingers through your hair and began to dry your hair, the hot air soothing the chills and lulling you into a comfortable daze. You felt your head drooping and closed your eyes, allowing the brunette to help you feel better. Your head dropped against your chest and you shot back up, bumping into the hairdryer. 

“Woah, easy. Take a nap Y/n/n, it’s okay.” She soothed, pulling you back into her lap. You shrugged mentally and sighed, a painful cough bubbling from your lips. Wanda rubbed your back comfortingly, shushing you softly as you fought back tears. Your throat hurt so badly, but the medicine was already taking effect. This time when sleep beckoned you, you fell into its embrace.

–

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a different place. Instead of the couch you fell asleep on, you were curled up amongst a mountain of pillows, a heavy duvet encircling your sick body. You turned your head and squinted at the blurry figure beside you. The blurry figure with the flaming red hair and beautiful green eyes. 

“Natty?” You rasped, drawing her from her reading. She set the book aside and pulled you against her chest, holding her tightly in her arms. All of the anxiety from before disappeared. She was here, she was finally here.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so, so sorry. You needed me and I couldn’t get you and now-” She broke off, cupping your face in her hands. You smiled sleepily and cuddled close to her, nuzzling into her chest. 

“S’okay. You’re workin’. M’tired.” You slurred, exhaustion blurring your words. Natasha kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering against your hair. She didn’t seem to mind that you were sweaty or congested or blubbering all over her, she was just there. Holding you. Being warm and strong. 

“You’re perfect, Y/n. You’re always here for me. I should’ve been here for you. But I am now rebenok and I’m not leaving you again.”

#fever #marvel #marvel sickfic #sick reader #sickfic #wanda maximoff #fanfiction #marvel mcu #sick fanfiction #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #sick fanfic #wanda marvel #hurt/comfort #miserable reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #fever whump #reader fever

[thebearchives]

A5 with carlos i actually need it to live

first kiss drabble goes to u mwah <3

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

prompt: jawline kisses

carlos watched as you shivered, tsking loudly, “this is why you should have worn a coat, mi amor.”

you stuck your tongue out, instantly regretting it when a cold gust of wind blew and pushed your hair into your mouth. you spluttered, reluctant to pull your hands out from where you had crossed them and push your hair away from your lips. 

carlos let out an exasperated sigh, finger reaching out and trailing along the side of your face, guiding the hair away from your mouth. 

you gave him a smile, appreciative, “but a coat would have ruined the look.”

“and a coat would have kept you warm,” his finger trailed down your arm, where the rest of his hand extended and lightly held on, “your arms have goosebumps all over them.”

you couldn’t help but push your arms further into his hand, the warmth from his palms too inviting. carlos was like a heater— no, a furnace. and as much as you wanted to blame it on the fact that he was wearing a warm jacket, you knew better. his hands were always hot, both literally and figuratively.

“yes,” you pushed forward slightly, gauging carlos’ reaction— he let you. you moved closer, “but, i have my big heater of a boyfriend to keep me warm.”

carlos playfully rolled his eyes as you pushed yourself into his arms. his jacket had been unzipped, as if offering you to nestle against his chest. he hissed when your cold body came in contact with his own. even through the white button-up that he had worn, he could feel your icy fingers and arms wrap around his torso. god, you were freezing. even colder than the actual temperature outside.

“mi amor, why do you do this to yourself?” carlos pulls the sides of his jacket up and over your body, trapping you against him.

“i told you already,” your voice was muffled against his chest.

“yeah, yeah,” carlos wrapped his arms around your covered body tightly, “but next time you forget a coat, you don’t get to do this.”

you rolled your eyes, muttering a quiet ‘fine’, before closing them and basking in his warmth. the train wasn’t due to arrive for another five minutes or so, and you could only hope that the inside of it was heated. 

a few beats of silence passed, and you raised your head and rested your chin against carlos’ chest, gazing up at him. his eyes flickered down at you and then back up, but he made no move to entertain your gaze.

your eyes followed the curve of his chin and jawline. you could just barely see one of his ears peeking out from gaps between his messy hair, tinted red like the tip of his nose. your eyes fell back to his jawline, and you caved. you pushed up on your toes, cold lips pressing against his lightly-stubbled jaw. 

carlos was unmoving, but a smile curved the corners of his lips up. he willed himself to not look down at you again, not wanting you to stop.

you placed another kiss along his jawline, just as soft as the last, “thank you, amor.”

he couldn’t help it, head moving back so he could connect eyes with you. you repeat yourself, “thank you for taking care of me, especially when i’m being difficult like this.”

carlos smiled, “well, who else would take care of you if not me, yeah?”

you gave him a pointed look, and he chuckled, lips coming down to meet your forehead, “siempre y para siempre, amor. no hay nadie más que quiera cuidar que tú.” always and forever, love. no one else i'd want to look after more than you.

#— kisses for 500 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz imagine #f1 driver x reader #f1 imagine #fluff #ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ writes #f1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #timestamp #drabbles #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #cs55 drabble #ferrari #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz drabble #carlos #sainz #formula 1 one shot #formula one fic #1k

[peachcitt]

we're sitting under the stars on my best friend's balcony,

and everyone but us have gone in for the night. I've just told you, hazy and drunk, that my astrology app feeds me bullshit every day, and sometimes I'm weak enough to believe it. But most of the time it's bullshit.

I don't know why I told you - to you, the stars are lifeblood, or at least a personality gauge based on spinning planets and hair size. "Leos are known for their big hair," you'd said, maybe only a few hours prior. I can't remember why I chose that bone to pick - I think I've reached a barrel-scraping desperation where I feel the need to assert, over and over again, that 'I defy you, stars!' even though it would be much easier to say that mercury in retrograde may be causing my acute depression.

You pull up your astrology app. We're friends on there, and I think I remember checking our compatibility and feeling drawn to the sex & love section, but that would be ridiculous. There's something in the bullshit my astrology app fed to me that I read out loud in drunken amusement that resonated with who I am in your eyes, sitting in front of you under the stars. Your app tells you that you might experience a big change when the sun comes up, that you'll have to reach for it with both hands, and I see your eyes flick over to me.

There's a defense mechanism that locks in, underneath my skin, that acts as a human deterrent. I look at my best friend and there is something primal and soft that begs to lean my body against her and touch her with a casual intimate care. But when she laced her fingers with mine, pushing up against my stiff palm like digging through stone, I had to look away. She knelt down by her puppy and took my hand in hers, pressing my knuckles to her forehead to show her puppy that I am safe, that I can be trusted, but the little creature watched me like a sentinel behind my best friend's back, wary and right.

I think I told you it might be bullshit; I can only remember myself contrary in the string lights. You insisted that it could be true. "What if everything changes," you said, "what if it's right and today" - we were far past midnight - "and today the-"

"The world ends?" I finished for you.

I don't think that's what you wanted to hear, the careless laughing way I said it. I stared at the back of my best friend's house today, hours after you left, and I thought about fate. I bent over backwards and stared up at the stars, framed by the staircase up to the porch we sat. The world didn't end, nor did it change substantially, and I'll admit I didn't want either. I want to stay the same forever, but the goddamn stars keep moving.

I've played this game before, and I've been the one to lose every time. I'd like to say I'm a good sport, but there's only so many hits you can take before it starts getting personal, and I'm afraid my jagged edges are sharpening in preparation. I can't let you be another meteorite I strain every muscle to push to the top of the hill only to fall back in the same bloody crater. You have to understand; where you see fate in the stars, glinting just for you, all I can see is apocalypse.

(28 August 2023, 3:26 am)

#original work #creative nonfiction #prose poetry #peach writes #listen i know this is. i know this is different from what i normally post. i know that #but just listen. listen. i normally post my poetry online on my personal instagram acc #but that account is followed by family and friends including the people i am describing. and i know they read my shit #as we all know i love anonymity in stupid insane ways in my personal life so here. have some raw feelings im sharing with strangers #and you may be asking. why post this at all? . well that's easy silly it's because i genuinely think it rocks and rolls #i can separate my feelings from my art im normal about it