#shonee draws things

[shonee]

whatever you do, steer clear of the purple...

#shonee draws things #my ocs #starlight oc #starlight Brigade #cheshire cat #grabs my old edgy ocs and throws them in the funny space fantasy zone #he doesn’t bite :) #(more than once) #marvin

[tender-rosiey]

oh em gosh imagine gojo with an s/o who's basically as obsessed and in love with him as he is with us <33 and every1 is just like 😒ugh get a room

back and forth — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: equally being obsessed with each other>>> also check out @novelbear her prompts are out of their world! I used some of the dialogue prompts hehe

you would like to say that you’re immune to satoru’s charms, but then you would be a liar.

sometimes you, sure, can say no, but most of the time you indulge him. he uses his pretty face and even prettier words to get his way. it does reassure you that you have the same effect on him. actually, he can never say no to you.

he once sat with himself to think that maybe he is spoiling you, and he needs to stop, but then you entered the room beaming, smooching his face and asking to go to that one café that opened recently.

satoru’s original plan was to do the paperwork yaga has been yelling to him about, but how can he say no to you? so with a grin, he locked arms with you and the both of you skipped to the café.

so yeah, you’re both so down horrendous for each other and neither of you can deny it.

it’s terrible for everyone around you.

the way the both of you are screaming each other’s name from a mile away and running towards each other like you're in some romance movie. the hug is even more dramatic than the running, somehow.

the balant display of affection makes the students all roll their eyes.

one time, you called satoru from home and you had a call that lasted for an hour or so. eventually, you had to hang up since satoru had a class to teach. however, these goodbyes take even longer than the call itself.

“I love you, ‘toru!”

“I love you, my pretty angel!”

“I love you more, my lovely husband!”

“I love you even more, my divine wifey!”

and it continued like that forever. the students almost lost hope to get any education that day, but satoru finally said, “okay, pretty, I have to go now.”

they beam as they hear your voice replying with a sweet ‘okay!’, but they quickly deflated when satoru relaxed back and said, “but you have to hang up first.”

of course, what followed was a ‘no, you hang up first!’.

one and after another and nobara had enough before snatching satoru’s phone and instead speaking to you, “okay, y/n-sensei, we all love you, but we need this guy to teach us something so bye!”

satoru spent the entire day pouting.

another thing is how the both of you take pictures of the other while they are unaware. at first, you would think there is nothing wrong with it, and there isn’t.

but both of you love to fawn about the other in front of your students or friends.

satoru rambles with the most passionate and energetic fangirling ever to nanami, an audience that’s about to jump off a building, and you, who refuses to believe his beauty, ramble to shoko who’s about to finish 4 packs of cigarettes.

in general, satoru is a lot more brazen with his show of affection. for example, the way he shamelessly stares at you like he is memorizing your every feature.

sometimes, his hands wander to your face to gently caress it, then his lips follow, pressing a peck to every part of your face, drawing constellations of love. he then pulls back with a smile, “you’re really pretty, y’know?”

he always says what’s on his mind, and he is the type of lover to help you challenge your limits. he pays the people around him no mind as he pulls you in the rain with a grin, saying, “come on, dance with me!”

and you do your best. you’re both clumsy in your steps and you’re swaying more than dancing. satoru’s infinity is off and you’re both soaked.

still, satoru thinks you’ve never looked prettier, and you think his eyes never shone brighter.

there are times when words escape you before you think about them like that one time satoru was in a mini rush to go on a mission and forgot to give you a goodbye kiss. before he dashed out the door, you held him by the shirt and frowned, “my kiss?”

despite his blindfold, shock was evident on his face. he recovered quickly though. with a chuckle, he murmured a soft, “right sorry, wifey,” and kissed you passionately. he pulled back slightly, “am I forgiven?”

you nodded lightly and kissed his cheek, “yup; now go, mister strongest sorcerer.”

“I prefer my lovely husband, but that will do as well.”

he likes to tease you too. it’s in his nature, something he does with everyone he knows. of course, there is some teasing reserved especially for you.

satoru also loves hearing you sing his praises or verbalize your love for him. like that one time you were going on a mission and murmured an ‘I love you’ to his lips, but he quickly stopped you and said, “what did you say, pretty?”

you looked at him confused, “I said I love you,” you poke his cheek, “you heard me.”

he laughed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your neck, “I know; I just wanted you to say it again.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you cupped his face, pulled him down, and started smothering him with kisses. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you,” then the other one, “I adore you,” his forehead, “I am infatuated with you,” his eyelids, “I can’t imagine a day without you.”

a big wide grin was plastered on satoru’s face and his cheeks were painted a very faint hue of red. you chuckled at his expression, “was that enough?”

he enveloped you in a big hug, resting his face on yours, “one more time, please?”

for you, you see satoru in a several things in your daily life. you see him in the blue sky above you. you see him in the glass of the bakery you pass by. you see him in the white cat that always walks by your side near the school.

you also hear him in the some of the songs you listen to, and you don’t hesitate to let him know.

one time when you were stargazing on the roofs of the school, playing your playlist since the time before it was satoru’s turn. a specific song started playing and it made you smile, before you spoke up, “y’know, satoru.”

he hums and you continue, “this song reminds me of you.”

you don’t hear a response, so you turn to look at him, “it’s actually one of my favori—satoru? satoru, are you tearing up?!” you laugh, leaning close to him, and he looks away.

“nope!”

behind closed doors, and with great distances separating the both of you, you never fail to call the other to feel their presence even through a phone. it’s practically a ritual for you and satoru to video call whenever one is out on a mission.

you can talk for hours and hours on end or relish in the silence, comforted by the fact that you can see each other.

satoru always insists on them, saying that he sleeps better when he see you. you share the same sentiment, so there’s no surprise that you both always fall asleep on call.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x you #jjk fluff #satoru x you

[neckromantics]

Spoiling Astarion?

Bringing him back little things that remind you of him whenever he stays back at camp just so he knows you're still thinking of him while you're apart.

Astarion being so used to receiving little gifts from your travels that when you arrive back at camp, he's standing by your tent with his palm outstretched just waiting to see what you've brought him this time. The giddy little grin that's plastered on his face when you fork over the shiniest object you could get your paws on. All varying in degrees of monetary value, for sure, but all with a unique story of their own.

A couple of old coins from an ancient crypt. The entrance of which you'd all stumbled upon when Karlach punched a wall of a cave in victory after a particularly tough battle, only to come back with a handful of bones and cobwebs. The look of shock on her face when the entire wall came crumbling down on the group was enough to have you in stitches, entirely too weak from laughter to stand. You laid beneath the rubble for so long that Gale had assumed you developed a concussion and needed rescuing.

The PRETTIEST, crystal goblet that you'd stolen right from under a rich lady's nose under the guise that you were testing her drink for poison. You'd downed her ale in two gulps the second you exited the building. Was in the middle of patting yourself on the back for being oh-so cunning when you nearly fell on your ass. It was a sick, twisted coincidence that her ale did, in fact, turn out to be poisoned. But, at least you had a spare antidote on you that you gulped down before Shadowheart could find you in such a state. (And make fun of you, no doubt.)

A set of handmade jewelry– not stolen this time, if you can believe it. Wyll had pointed out the small shop to you while the two of you were out shopping for supplies. Said something about how it might be a good idea to pick out a new pair of socks since you'd been complaining about how holey yours had become after so much running around. Which was a good idea, truly– but the second you'd set eyes on the shop window, you knew what you wanted. A matching necklace and earring set, lovingly crafted with silver chain, so very delicate. So very understated that one could almost miss it among the rest of the more garish examples that sat alongside. Three, very small, opalescent stones shone so pretty at you beneath the sunlight that you could hardly look away. You would have given the shopkeep your left kidney just to see Astarion wearing them, but thankfully, it wasn't necessary. (You became so feral in your excitement to hear the very reasonable price that you nearly threw your entire gold pouch at the clerk's head and then kissed him on the mouth.)

You're an eager one. Astarion never has to wait– always receives his gifts before you can so much as slip your travel pack off of your shoulders. He goes real quiet for a moment. Has this far away look while gazing down at whatever it is, turning it over in his palm a couple of times to really study it.

The two of you sit together while you go through the rest of the day's spoils, and he listens while you tell him all about how you found today's special little trinket. Insists you spare no details in how you acquired it. (Unless any of those details are boring, dear. Do spare him of those.)

You know that there have to be some things he enjoys more than others. You know that there has to be some things you've given him that he outright dislikes. There have been a few occasions where he'd poked fun at you for bringing back something silly. Like "The roundest pebble you'd ever seen, Astarion, look at it roll!" or "This drawing of the two of you that you'd doodled on a stray sheet of parchment when you couldn't find anything else no matter how hard you tried!". BUT he has never refused anything you've chosen to bring back for him.

He thinks it's rather sweet that you've dedicated yourself to proving you still think of him when he stays behind. Wonders why you are the way that you are. Sort of loves you to death for it. Definitely does NOT invest in a bag of holding for everything once it all begins to stack up.

Definitely doesn't insist on you taking one half of the jewelry set so you always have a little piece of one another on you at all times. That would be ridiculous. (Earrings or necklace, darling?)

Sequel?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #astarion headcanons #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #karlach cliffgate #shadowheart

[gogogodzilla]

Easy Mornings

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, mike’s POV, almost getting caught, i know the majority voted for a different way this could go, but i already had this one started (sorry y'all, that one is coming soon) part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3

Mike gripped the steering wheel with an iron grip for the entire drive home, excitement buzzing throughout his body. Your panties weighed heavy in his front pocket, now covered his cum. 

His hands shook as he pulled into the driveway. He wondered how he’d find you. Would you be buried under the covers of his bed, one of his old t-shirts just barely covering your modesty? He’d gently pull the covers off of your sleeping form, exposing yourself to him. His breath would catch in his throat as he took in your figure and his hands would trail up your bare thighs. 

His mind got lost in the possibilities as his hands rested on the steering wheel. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of thoughts of you at least long enough for him to get in the front door. 

His keys jingled softly against the lock and he breathed in the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. You had your back turned to him, leaning over the kitchen table and scanning over one of your textbooks. 

You clutched your coffee mug in your hand and took a sip, not noticing his presence. Morning sunlight shone gently through the windows, illuminating the kitchen and bathing you in a soft glow. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, just as he thought. You looked heavenly in this light, and Mike would have the image burned into his mind forever. 

He set his bag quietly down by the door and padded closer to you. You jumped as he wrapped his arms around your center and tugged you closer to him. His hands gripped your hips and held you in place as his lips moved on their own accord and trailed down your neck. 

He could practically feel your grin as you hummed, leaning into him. “Did you enjoy what I packed for you?”

His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you into his growing bulge. He breathed in your scent, taking in the moment alone with you. 

“Sure did,” he hummed against your skin. “I think I’ll enjoy the real thing a bit more.” 

His hands drifted down your body and under your shirt, skirting over the bare skin of your thighs. He lets out a satisfied noise as his fingertips trailed over your ass. You were bare for him, your panties still sitting snugly in his front pocket. 

One of his hands drifted down and across the backs of your thighs to run his middle finger through your folds. You let out a small gasp at his touch and pushed your hips against him, already needy for him. His fingertip grazed across your clit, and his lips attached to your neck once again. 

“Mike,” you whimpered softly, attempting to keep your voice down. Abby was due to be woken up soon. 

His finger dipped in your entrance before returning to your clit, and your frustrated groan was interrupted by him sliding inside of you. He slowly pumped it before allowing his pointer finger to join it, stretching you divinely.  He removed his other hand from your hip to draw lazy figure-eights across your clit, earning him one of those pretty moans he loved to hear. 

Mike removed his hand from your clit to work at undoing the button of his pants and tugging the zipper down. He removed his fingers from your dripping core and slipped them past his lips, sighing at the taste. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he murmured against your ear as he freed his painfully hard cock from his boxers. You hurriedly nodded as he dragged his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. His grip tightened on your hip as he was already getting lost in the feeling of you. You both let out soft moans as his tip bumped your clit before moving back to tease your entrance. 

You jutted your hips against his, “Mike.”

He answered you by angling his cock up to your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you. He barely met any resistance as your pussy greedily swallowed him whole, and he let out a low groan. 

He presses his palm against the space between your shoulder blades, nudging you to bend over the kitchen table for him. You pushed your textbook and coffee cup out of the way. He lifted your shirt to get a good view of the way you were taking him like you were made for him.

You arched your back as he started to move his hips against yours. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to last. You felt divine against him as always, and he gripped your ass. 

“Ah— fuck, baby. Taking me so good.” 

Your arms moved upward to support yourself as he thrust into you, fingernails digging into the wooden surface of the table. You let out a satisfied moan at his words, and he felt you clench around him. 

You stood on your tiptoes, allowing him to hit the spot inside you that had you squirming against him and mewling. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moans that were escaping you, and the desire to kiss you nearly overwhelmed him. 

He ran his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He gripped your chin and turned your head so he could put his lips against yours. The angle was awkward, but he didn’t care. You didn’t seem to either as you reached back and tugged his hair, pulling him closer. 

He jutted his hips deeper inside of you, and the familiar coil formed in his belly. He pressed hurried kisses against the side of your neck, nipping at your earlobe just to keep you on your toes. He reached around you and rubbed tight circles around your clit. You whined loudly and he clamped a hand across your mouth. 

He shushed you as he increased his pace, “Fuck… Gotta be quiet, baby.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he became lost in the sensation of you. He was hanging by a thread, but he wanted to feel you cum around him. The thought had been driving him insane all night, and he needed it. 

The kitchen filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and the slight shake of the table from his thrusts. The chance of getting caught spurred him to drive his cock deeper inside you with every thrust, earning a high-pitched mewl muffled by his palm. 

Your entire body tensed against him as you came hard around his cock, squeezing him just right. His hips stuttered against you as his orgasm rapidly approached. 

With a final, deep thrust of his hips, he was cumming inside you. His release painted your insides, and he let out a low groan as he continued to ride out both of your orgasms. 

After a few more drags of his hips, he stilled within you, panting. Slowly, he pulled his cock out of you and watched how his cum dripped over your puffy folds. 

Muffled footsteps originated from Abby’s room, and the both of you straightened. He hurried to right himself, and you had just enough time to tug your shirt down to cover yourself before Abby came padding out of her room. 

“Hey, Abs,” you greeted as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and picked up your coffee cup. You stood with your legs crossed, watching as she entered the kitchen. 

Mike attempted to appear casual as he commented, “You’re up early.”

Abby shrugged, furrowing her brows, “A loud noise woke me up, but I’m not sure what it was.”

Mike’s eyes widened as he met your equally embarrassed gaze. 

You set your mug down, “I’m gonna go get dressed.” 

Your footsteps were hurried as you made your way to Mike’s room. He grinned at the thought of his cum dripping out of you and down your thighs. 

He moved toward the fridge as Abby sat at the kitchen table, “How ‘bout I make you some breakfast?”

#mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x reader #reader insert #no y/n #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #michael schmidt x reader #michael schmidt

[beenbaanbuun]

first kiss with ateez

park seonghwa

i’m of the belief that seonghwa is a gentleman through and through

unfortunately that means no kiss until at least the third date, and even then your lips would have to look particularly plush and tempting for him to even dare

a bit of pink lip gloss does the trick, drawing his gaze to your lips more than once during the restaurant date that you find yourself on

he studies them when you talk about what’s going on in your life, watching your pretty teeth peeking out from beneath them

in fact, the more you talk, the harder it gets to pull his gaze away to look you in the eyes

how can he when your lips look so, what’s the word, kissable…

and before he can even stop himself, he’s leaning across the table and is oh-so-gently holding your face in place with a hand on your cheek

your words stop in your throat as he breathes against your lips and perhaps you can’t help but find his lips a little tempting too

you close the gap, pushing your lips against his own soft pair and holding yourself in place for just a moment or two

neither of you forget that you’re in the centre of a restaurant so you pull away, sharing a silent promise that it would be the first of many

kim hongjoong

hongjoong didn’t quite know why he felt so compelled to show you his studio so early in the relationship

it was his safe space away from the rest of the world, and yet there you were, stood right in the centre of it looking like you belonged there

and he believed that you did because why else would you look so pretty under the dim lights that shone from the ceiling?

why else would he be so tempted to pull you over to his desk chair and have a long, passionate make out session with you?

he tries to shake the dirty thoughts away, but a few linger on for longer than he’d like

and as you look around the space, he can’t quite help but imagine what it would feel like to hold his lips to yours

feeling braver than usual, he struts up to you and leans into your personal space, mouth barely an inch from your own

“can i?” he whispers, eyes flickering down to watch your lips part and your tongue dart out to wet them, “want to feel your pretty mouth on mine…”

you nod and before you know it, he has a hand on your shoulder, pulling you close and his lips on yours, drinking you in

he doesn’t pull away until you’re both dizzy from a lack of oxygen, but before you can even fully catch your breath, he’s delving in for more

jeong yunho

another gentleman except he is more than happy to kiss you on the first date as long as you’re as willing as he is

because he never really believed in love as first sight, but when he sees you for the first time, kissing you is all he can thing about

spends half of his time staring at your lips, and half of his time staring at your eyes wondering how pretty it would be to watch them flicker closed as he kisses you

tries his hardest to listen to you as you talk but how is he supposed to concentrate when all he wants to do is lean in and press his own lips against yours

ends up asking you to repeat yourself pretty much every sentence but you don’t really mind because you like the way he pouts when he asks…

both of you so desperately want to kiss the other and yet neither of you say anything, until…

“is that lipstick on your teeth?” yunho asks. you try to rub it off but you’re rubbing at the wrong tooth and yunho is just giggling to himself

you ask him to get it for you, and he freezes up because he’s unsure as to whether you’re genuinely asking him or whether it’s some sort of weird way of you asking for a kiss

he plays dumb and hopes it’s the latter, leaning in a little and extending the invitation for you to close the gap, which of course, you do

you giggle against his lips as he pushes the tip of his tongue into your mouth to wipe away the lipstick

kang yeosang

you’ve been dating for a while and you both desperately want to kiss the other but you’re shy and yeosang is clueless

the two of you are trapped in a weird sort of tango where one of you will get just about brave enough to lean in for a kiss before uncertainty kicks in and you take it back

your friends can’t be around you two anymore because it’s genuinely annoying to watch you two perform this weird ritual

they’re all silently begging for the two of you to just quit the bullshit and make out (preferably not in front of them)

but even with the hints the guys drop to yeosang, he still doesn’t seem to understand that of course you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you

until one night, you’re at his dorm for a movie night that yunho invited you over for

eventually, though, he gets fed up of watching you two love sick idiots watch one another instead of the movie and he stands up with his popcorn bowl and his blanket

“i’m going to bed,” he grumbles, shooting the two of you a frustrated look, “you two need to get a grip and make out already…”

it’s the most direct hint any of the members have given to yeosang, and finally it sinks in that holy shit! maybe you want to kiss him too???

your lips are already on his the second yunho is out of the room and he can’t help but squeak in surprise before fully leaning into the kiss

it’s unsure to start with, but the two of you soon find your feet and as per yunho’s instructions, you do in fact ‘get a grip and make out’

choi san

another gentleman but only in the sense that he likes to get verbal consent before kissing you

and he’s been waiting so patiently to ask you all night but he can’t quite bring himself to interrupt you as you very cutely ramble on about some random topic

but as much as he could sit and listen to you talk about anything with your angelic voice, he just wants to lean over to where you’re sat on his bed and kiss you

you notice him zoning out after a while and your sentences trail off

“sorry, was i rambling?” you ask, growing shy

“huh?” he shakes himself out of his trance and pouts at you, “aw, you could never ramble, babe…”

while you’re grateful that he’s so quick to squash any insecurities you might have about talking too much, you can’t help but wonder what had him so deep in thought

but before you can ask, san gets there first

“can i kiss you?” you nod, but san doesn’t do anything until you actually say it

when you finally get the word out, he smiles and lunges forwards to let his lips crash against yours

it’s not a gentle kiss, but it’s not an aggressive one either

it’s more like a long awaited one, switching from slow and sensual to desperate and depraved, before going back to the former in mere seconds!

song mingi

this man can and will kiss you whenever he feels like it

don’t get me wrong, he gets so incredibly shy around you, but he is also so incredibly impulsive that the moment he gets the idea to kiss you in his head, he can’t shake it out until he’s done it

it’s only your second date, but the two of you click so well that mingi thinks he might already be in love with you

and then he says something jokingly mean, purposefully to make you pout, and he just freezes

have your lips always looked that kissable? because right now, that’s the only thing he can think about

they look so soft and pliant and pink and before he knows it, mingi is leaning down to your height, his own lips just a breath away from yours

“do you want to kiss me?” he asks with a dopey smile, “i want to kiss you…”

you nod with a dazed expression and he closes the gap, wasting no time in deepening the kiss

he puts his huge hands on your waist and holds you flush against him as he explores your mouth

after what feels like a blissful eternity, he pulls away, panting deeply as he licks at his own lips that are covered in your spit

jung wooyoung

this little shit wants to kiss you soooo bad and unfortunately for you, he can tell that you want to kiss him too

with anyone else, that wouldn’t be a problem, but wooyoung is evil and is absolutely determined to make sure the only thing you can think of all day is his lips

he spends all day biting at his lips and flicking his pretty pink tongue over them the make them glisten in the sun light

acts extra pouty just in case he didn’t already have your full attention on his lips

he can tell by the way you zone out mid sentence to stare at his mouth that he does in fact have your full attention but that doesn’t stop him

oh no, it only drives him to be oven more of a little demon

he decides he wants to get ice cream with you despite it being the middle of winter, and for some reason you agree

he eats it in such a way that gets it smothered on his lips, but with the smirk on his face you can tell it’s intentional

you try and dab it away with a napkin but he just pouts and leans in close

with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you take the hint and press your barely concealed smile to his own lips

he transfers the ice cream to your own lips before letting his tongue dart out to lick it up

you pull away with a grossed out whine, but he pulls you back in immediately for more

choi jongho

for jongho, the urge to kiss you built up over time

like sure, on the first date he notices how pretty your lips look but all of you is pretty and that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to kiss you

but then on the second date, he can’t help but notice that you like to chew on your lips and somewhere in the back of his mind is a thought that has him shocked at himself

like, he’s known you for a little over a week, why is he daydreaming about tugging your bottom lip between his teeth before diving in for a kiss

and then suddenly, it’s the fifth date and you’re sat on his sofa curled into his side and he just can’t stop staring as you nibble on your bottom lip

there’s a deep internal conflict about what he should do because he just can’t sit and watch you unintentionally tease him anymore!

decides to be a little bold and takes a deep breath before using his thumb to tug your bottom lip free of your teeth

you look at him in surprise, but you have barely enough time to be shocked before his lips are descending on your own and you’re leaning into the best kiss of your life

it’s slow and passionate and jongho is holding onto you like your made of glass with his hands splayed across your lower back

you pull away before delving back for more immediately, gasping when you’d feel jongho’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip…

#ateez headcanons #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #atz reactions #atz x reader #atz fanfic #atz fluff #atz scenarios #atz drabbles #ateez drabbles

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Mihawk prefers to keep work and his private life separate. On one rare occasion when these two have to comingle, Mihawk is rather upset at the attention you attract.]

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When Mihawk said "It will be just a moment, my dear", you didn't think the issue would take more than half an hour. Yet here you are, two hours after he had left you in a fussy lounge in the back of Midnight Grove...

...and not a Dracule Mihawk in sight.

You let out an exasperated sigh and take another sip of your mai tai. The band is playing yet another song that sounds vaguely identical to the previous one. Similarly, the mob of other patrons seems to be merging into one, murky background of blurry figures in your eyes. Being used to the peaceful yet refined companionship of Mihawk, the aura of Midnight Grove is beyond unbearable.

Mindlessly playing with a coaster featuring a howling wolf, you don't notice a Marine cadet approaching you.

"I'm afraid I have to arrest you, my lady."

The unexpected and, frankly, unwelcome comment makes you look up from the devilishly fascinating coaster. Your eyes fall on a well-built man with long hair and a smug expression. The glint in his brown eyes makes you tense up in discomfort.

"Excuse me?" you ask him, not understanding the meaning behind his words.

The cadet gives you a bad parody of a flirtatious smile. "You look too beautiful," he purrs out.

You can't help but laugh. Somehow, you're undecided whether his pick-up disgusts or amuses you or maybe both. Perhaps his audacity forced a laugh out of you - the ring on your fourth finger is neither modest nor simple. Considering how the large gem in the golden band shone in the low light of the Midnight Grove, even a blind man could tell from a mile away that you are anything but single.

"Anyone waiting for you at home?" he continues his rather poor attempt at flirting.

With a casual flick of your wrist, you toss the coaster on the table. Feeling both curious and entertained, you decide to play along - for now, at least. "Why are you asking, sailor boy?" you question before taking another sip of your drink. The ice has melted and the diluted drink now tastes mostly of old freezer.

"He must be mighty jealous about you. And considering the gold you're wearing," he makes a point of staring at your cleavage, "a millionaire, too."

"Oh, this?" You look down at the necklace of jewels and pearls. A memory flashes before your eyes, suddenly remembering Mihawk's face, barely visible in candlelight as he clasps the jewellery around your neck, telling you sweet things only men in romance novels tend to say. "Yes, it's a gift from someone. I'm sure you know him," you tell the Marine cadet in a casual tone, already imagining how hilarious his face of terror will be when he realizes whose spouse he's been trying to woo. "Tall, yellow eyes, a rather large sword and...

"Awfully annoyed at your impertinence, boy."

The low, guttural voice laced with withheld anger makes both of you look away. There, standing right behind the cadet, is Mihawk himself. Part of his large physique blocks the scarce lighting, making him look significantly more insidious. In the twilight of the Midnight Grove, with fury burning in his eyes, Mihawk appears closer to a demon than a man.

Although the room is dark, you can clearly see the way the cadet's blood draws from his face and the way his eyes are suddenly bigger than an owl's. He scrambles to his feet, almost falling off his chair. Then, muttering apologies and promises of better behaviour, the young Marine runs off only to disappear in the crowd of Midnight Grove's patrons.

Mihawk's eyes follow the youngling for a moment.

"I should have him strung up and killed," he says more to himself than you.

"Or," you speak up, a playful smile curling your lips, "you could sit down, have a drink with your beautiful wife and gloat about the fact that you're the only man to undress her."

You might just be a witch because the change in his demeanour is instant. There is still something wild in his bright, yellow eyes but it's not bloodthirst or anger anymore. You notice how he glances at the ring and the necklace, admiring his own signs of "ownership". One would think they're big enough to send the message. Alas, some people just refuse to receive it.

"You have me convinced," Mihawk says as he sits down next to you.

#opla #opla x reader #opla fanfiction #one piece live action #one piece netflix #mihawk x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk one piece #mihawk fanfiction #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk fanfic #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk x y/n #op mihawk

[heavenlyhischier]

untitled | rafe cameron

word count: 3.4k

warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT— smut, fingering, oral (male receiving), slight degradation, God and church are mentioned, unprotected sex (use protection my friends), praise kink maybe, spanking, hair pulling

note: 90% smut. 10% plot. the way i’m attracted to this man is insane. i’m obsessed w him. loosely inspired by Church by Chase Atlantic.

The relationship you had with Rafe Cameron was anything but complicated. The two of you would see each other at a party, or a two a.m. “you up?” text was sent, and you would end the night in your bed with evidence of the night between your thighs. It wasn’t anything more than sex, and the both of you were okay with it. Neither of you had room for a relationship in your lives, and you’re not entirely sure a relationship is something you would want with someone like him. He comes with a lot of baggage that you know he’s not to blame for, but you also know it wasn’t something you were equipped to handle.

Instead, you get to have some of the best parts of him, and he gets to have some of the best parts of you with absolutely no strings attached. Well, maybe there were a few strings. You and Rafe often danced over the metaphorical line and into domestic territory. He would give you random kisses, ensure your aftercare was nothing short of stellar, shower with you, and sometimes he would even stay the night with you. You weren’t entirely innocent, either. You found yourself wearing just his shirt around your apartment whether he was there or not, and there were times where you caught yourself smiling too widely at your phone when his name appeared on the screen. Yet, despite these things, you knew that in the end, the two of you would cross back over the line and fall back into your own normalcy.

Last night was one of the times that Rafe had asked to stay over after your nightly activities, and you never told him no. You always caved in to his wants and desires, and his request to sleep in your bed was never a privilege you were going to deny yourself of. Despite your relationship being based off pure, unadulterated lust, you found a sort of warm comfort when you woke up with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. The physical contact was nice, and it made you feel far less lonely than when you woke up in a cold and empty bed.

The crisp autumn air wafted into your apartment through the open window, hitting your exposed thighs as you made your coffee. Turning to go into the living room, you caught a glimpse of your overturned dining chairs and memories of last night's events flooded your mind at once. Images of Rafe bending you over that very table left your cheeks burning and the knot in your stomach tightening as you settled into a spot on the couch.

The sun shone through the breaks in the curtain, the soft light decorating your living room in a way that covered your scattered trinkets in a golden hue. Despite the late night, you still found yourself slipping out of Rafe’s arms fairly early in the morning. Your sore legs had wobbled as you left him to sleep, his soft and quiet snores getting quieter the further away you got from him. Now, as you sat in the comforting silence, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the naked man in your bed.

About an hour later, you had just finished picking up the remnants of last night when you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. It was sickeningly domestic and familiar the way your lips turned upwards into a smile as he neared you. The way the mere sound of him had you smiling was pathetic, and often left you wondering if you could get over his immense emotional baggage and let yourself love him the way a small part of you wanted to. Though, the harsh reality of the Cameron family was not easily forgettable, and made it easy to draw yourself back from what could be.

“Thought you left me alone this morning,” He whispered, voice thick with sleep as his arms encased you against the kitchen counter.

You let out a delicate hum as you leaned into him, “Not today.”

“You look sexy wearing my shirt,” He rasped, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your body shuddered, eyes fluttering shut as you tilted your head back against his shoulder. His hips were pressed against your back, his bulge poking into your ass as his breath fanned against your neck. Your heartbeat quickened at the proximity, eager and ready for what was undoubtedly to be ahead of you. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, goosebumps following in the path of his long, slender fingers.

“Rafe, please,” You whimpered as his hand slipped into your underwear, teasing your core with the lightest touches.

“Please what,” He teased, his middle fingers sliding through the wetness in between your legs, “Use your words, baby. Beg for it.”

“Touch me. Please touch me,” Your voice was breathless and needy as your hips grinded against his finger, eager for any sort of friction to ease the tightening coil in your stomach.

He let out a puff of air against your neck in approval before sliding his finger inside of you; a mangled moan slipping through your lips as you screwed your eyes shut. His finger curled inside of you as his thumb found your clit, rubbing small and perfectly paced circles. His breathing was heavy in your ear, only adding to the pleasure coursing through your veins as he worked the digit inside of you.

“Think you could take another finger, princess,” He goaded, his voice deep and thick with desire as he watched you writhe beneath his touch.

Your response came out strangled and breathless as he quickened his pace, your mind going hazy and unclear as the ball in your stomach became tighter and warmer. Taking your lack of response as a response,

he slides in a second finger and you nearly collapse against him. His ring brushes against your skin, lighting the flesh on fire as he buries his fingers and curls them inside of you; your nearly pornagraphic moans bouncing off the walls around you.

The way your heart was thudding against your ribs and your eyes were rolled back in your head, it made you feel closer with Rafe than anything. He’s been the only person to ever get you off this way, and a part of you wanted him to be the only person to ever get you off. You’ve never been one to let a one night stand to finger you in your kitchen, but Rafe wasn’t a one night stand. He was much more than that.

Rafe Cameron knew your body better than he knew his own, and he knew exactly what to do in order to guide you to your release. You were squirming underneath him as his fingers continuously scraped against your g-spot, your cries filling his ears and fueling his already already stiff cock. While he’d never admit this out loud, getting you off with his fingers was the best way to get him hard and eager to fuck you into oblivion.

With the combination that was working between your legs, your release came quickly and was tearing through your body with white, searing hot heat. Stars dotted your vision as you rode his fingers, Rafe still scissoring and curling them inside you while your orgasmic screams echoed around him. His touch was becoming too much, your legs wobbling against him and your head becoming so dazed that you couldn’t think straight.

He yanked his hand out from your panties, leaving a trail of your wetness up your naval and across to your hip so that he could turn you around flush against his chest. Still dizzy and legs still shaking, your lips meet his with the most effort your hazy mind can muster up. Your teeth clash against his, the kiss sloppy and messy as you tangle your hands in his air, but it doesn’t last long until you’re at a need for air.

“God,” You gasped into his mouth, vision hazy and unclear as you tried to recover from the body shaking orgasm that was still rippling through you.

“I’m not God, baby, but I am about to take you back to church,” He whispered against your swollen lips, gaze taunting and lustful, “Now, on your knees, pretty girl.”

Your eyes widen, mouth dropping in awe as you slowly drop to your knees, Rafe’s hand finding place on the back of your neck the whole way down. He’s slightly tugging at the hair on the base of your neck, tilting your head upwards so that you were looking up at him. You knew he liked you in this position, with your hair in his hand, looking up at him like he owned you, almost entirely at his mercy. Though deep down, he knew that you were always at his beckoning no matter what, no matter when, no matter where.

“You always look so pretty on your knees,” He rasped, the grip on your hair tightening so that he could better angle your head, “But you look so much prettier with your mouth on my dick.”

“You sure know how to make a woman feel special,” You playfully mocked, eyes rolled as you looped your fingers into the waistband of his overly expensive boxers.

He roughly yanked your hair back, sending a sharp pain from your scalp to your fingertips as he chastised, “Don’t be an ungrateful brat.”

“I’m sorry,” You swallow thickly, pupils blown in innocence and fervor, the aching between your legs growing.

“‘I’m sorry—,’” He raises his eyebrows, teasing and taunting you in a way that only he could make look hot.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You finished as you slowly tugged the fabric down his toned legs, subtly rolling your eyes in a way that he couldn’t see.

His length sprang out from underneath its previous confinement, presenting itself right in front of your face. You peered up at him, a mixture of eagerness and haughtiness swimming in his eyes as he watched you spit in your palms. He threw his head back, a guttural groan passing through his lips as you took his length in your hands, gently squeezing and tugging, preparing yourself to take him in your mouth.

Flashing one more look up to his face, you focused on the task in hand, literally. Your thumb swirled around the precum that covered the tip of his dick, a string of euphoric whimpers escaping the man above you. Just like Rafe with you, you knew his body, its tells, its likes and dislikes, like they were your own, and you knew exactly what to do in order to get him off properly.

Licking a teasing strip from the base of his cock to the tip, you feel his body shudder underneath the hand you’re using for support. You’re taunting him, taking your time and making slow, calculated movements that left him jerking his hips towards your face. Obscene words flew from his mouth as your grip tightened, and your lips hovered over the throbbing length in your hands.

Finally, your mouth wrapped around his tip and you let out a hollow hum that reverberated against his hard-on, eliciting a slew of mangled breaths and moans before he was pushing your head down onto his entire length. His tip is hitting the back of your throat, tears pricking your eyes as you gag against him. Your cheeks are hollowed as he thrusts into your mouth, the grip on your hair tight and unrelenting as he guides your head himself.

“Fuck, baby,” He groans, “You’re doing so good. Taking me in your mouth like the slut you are, yeah?”

You glance up at him through the water clouding your vision, and the sight above you makes your core throb. His head is thrown back, eyes screwed shut in nothing short of pure ecstasy as your head bobs against him. Your tongue is flat against his cock, your hand still grasping what couldn’t fit in your mouth as you worked him to his release. Despite Rafe’s dominant nature showing with his need to set the pace, you still knew exactly what to do to send him tumbling over the edge.

“Keep doing that,” He encouraged, his breathing shallow and desperate as his grip on you faltered, “Jesus Christ. Don’t stop.”

Your dropped your hand that was grasping his length and placed both of them on his thighs so that you were able to gain more control and suck around him in a way you couldn’t without balance. His thrusts into your mouth grew tired and sloppy, but your movements were unyielding and merciless. It wasn’t long until he was shooting ropes of his hot, thick cum into your mouth; his hand keeping your mouth against his cock as he came undone.

He’s pulling himself out of your mouth, a string of saliva mixed with cum trailing between the two of

you. Rafe’s breathing is heavy as he watches you swallow what was left in your mouth, his eyes never leaving your own before he’s yanking you up off the floor. He slams his mouth against your own, kissing you with force and with enough passion to have you grasping his biceps to keep yourself steady. He’s gripping the back of your thighs, silently signaling you to wrap them around his waist so he can take you wherever he’d like.

Your mouths on his neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin as he’s walking you to your room. He gives you a less than gentle slap to your ass when you bite too hard, but you don’t stop. You wanted to leave a deep, purple bruise marking him as yours, even though he wasn’t really. Barely having separated your mouth from his neck, he was throwing you onto the unmade bed.

“Take your clothes off,” He demanded, standing at the foot of the bed, and it was only then did you realize that he hadn’t put his boxers back on.

He was bearing every inch of his body to you, and there was no stopping yourself from dragging your eyes all across his body. Rafe was truly built as if someone had sculpted him for the Gods with his toned muscles and lengthy limbs. He never failed to make your mouth water, and your core shamelessly yearn for his touch, for his cock. It was pathetic really, just how badly you needed him, but you were long past the point of return, and you fell into the desire head first.

“Baby,” His voice is quite and careful now as his knees fall onto the bed so he’s hovering over you. He’s using one hand to support his weight while the other is cupping your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressed to your cheeks, “I said take your clothes off, not stare. Now, be a good girl and take. Your. Clothes. Off.”

His fingers press deeper into your flesh as he’s enunciating the words with a force that had your thighs clenching together. With your eyes wide, you submissively nod your head and he’s rolling off you after that. You nearly whine at the loss of contact, but you’re ripping your clothes off at record speed so that you could feel him again. With your clothes off, he’s hovering back over you with nothing but greedy desire swimming in his eyes.

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you baby,” He whispers into your ear, his hand gliding up the inside of your thigh, “You’re just a needy little whore.”

“Only for you,” You breath out, trailing your fingers across his toned abdomen.

He threw his head back, his laughter reverberating around you as he said, “Oh, I know.”

His fingers are plunging into your heat without warning, and you let out a startled yell at the sudden stretch and feeling. He’s cupping the back of your head with his free hand, tilting it backwards so that he could cover your mouth with his own in a sloppy kiss. You’re moaning into his mouth, grasping at his arm and back as he relentlessly fingers you, vison blurring and head clouding with nothing but the man next to you.

“Tell me what you want,” He rasped as his pace slowed, but the thumb drawing circles on your clit did not, “C’mon, baby. Treat me like a priest. Confess all those dirty thoughts I know are swimming in that pretty little head of yours. Give me your worst, princess.”

A string of unintelligible words fell from your lips in between the salacious moans that were bouncing off your walls. You could barely think straight as his fingers curled inside of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He called out your name, goading your response.

“— Just fuck me, Rafe,” You begged, mind hazy as any other coherent thought left your mind, “Just need you to fuck me.”

“That I can do,” He lightly chuckled, pulling his fingers out of you.

Your walls clench around nothing as you let out a quiet whimper, watching as he moves around on the bed. He carefully grabs your shoulders and shifts your body up higher on the bed so your feet weren’t hanging off the end anymore, and then his entire body is encasing yours against your mattress. You could feel his dick pressed into your thigh as his eyes danced across your face, admiring the way your cheeks were flushed and hair was still untamed from the night before.

What he did next took you by surprise, yet you leaned into it all the way without a second thought. His lips are on yours, tender and soft as he kisses you like he never has before. His hands cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb gently stroking your cheek as his tongue slips into your mouth. You sigh into his mouth as you pull him into you by his neck. Its full of passion and a feeling that you would mistake as love if you didn’t know better.

Without warning or breaking the fervent kiss, he slams himself inside of you. You throw your head back into the pillow, crying out in intense pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt. Rafe’s soft grunts fill your ears as he pulls himself back before snapping his hips into yours, his cock stretching you in a way that burned just a little, but it was a sensation you welcomed with open arms.

Wet, sticky sounds filled the room as he moved himself in and out of you, and it was like the fucking symphony was playing in Rafe’s ears. He loved hearing your voice, but he loved hearing your writhing, desperate moans more. Your nails were scraping against the tanned skin of his back as you explored the expanse of the skin in search of something to ground yourself to. Your moans were loud and shaky as he fucked into you deeper, harder than anyone ever had before. Of course, you’d had sex with Rafe before, but with him, it was always different.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” He grumbled, his head falling into the crook of your neck, “You’re taking my cock so good.”

“Rafe— Oh my god,” You mewled, wanton moans echoing around him with each thrust into you.

All of a sudden, he’s pulling himself all the way out of you and flipping your body over without effort. He grips your hips so roughly that you’re certain you’ll have fingerprint shaped bruises their later, but you didn’t mind as he’s hoisting your ass into the air. Your face is shoved into the mattress, yet you could still hear him adjusting himself behind you before he’s roughly slamming into you again.

Your hands are gripping the sheet, your eyes rolling as he fucks into you so deeply that you black out for a brief moment. Rafe’s hand sharply slaps your ass, pain mixed with pleasure shooting through your body as his cock scrapes against the part of you that only he could ever reach. A moment later, he’s gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he could yank your head up and better hear your lewd moans.

“Fuck,” He groans as you clench yourself around him, “Keep doing that and I won’t last much longer.”

Rafe’s hand slides to your clit, and you swear your soul left your body when he began to rub circles against it. The knot in your stomach is becoming so tight that you knew it was about to burst any second, and he knew it too. He watched as your hips stuttered against his own and your fingers were grasping at the fabrics like you were going to float away, and that’s how he knew you were close.

You feel him press his chest into your back and he continues pounding into you, and he mumbles a mangled, “Cum for me, princess.”

With his cock still thrusting into you, your orgasm is jolting through your body, leaving you breathless and aching. You barely feel him pull you against his chest as your body writhes against him, your mind cloudy and grasping to the feeling that was coursing through your veins. Rafe’s thrust are becoming messy and slow as he reaches his own release, and it comes quick as you feel the warm, sticky liquid fill inside of you. His hips snap against you involuntarily as he rides out his high, his hand cupping your breast as he pants behind you.

You fall forward into the bed, your legs limp and pussy aching from him splitting you open and pounding into you without mercy. You feel the bed dip and then hear

his footsteps retreating towards the bathroom, but he reappears as quick as he’d left. He takes the towel and gently cleans between your legs, his eyes never leaving your face. He always loved the way you looked after he’d throughly fucked you; your face tired yet pleased all the same.

He’s tossing the towel to the side, taking the spot next to you before he lets three words slip out of his swollen lips, “I love you.”

What. The. Fuck.

the ending kinda sucks but there will not be a part two!! what happens after is up to your imagination ;)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx

[satoruhour]

a/n: i need college / uni bf!geto rn bc my hands hurt :( newly established relationship <3 0.9k, rich kid!suguru i guess? / tagging @crysugu @na-t0 @papersirens @hydrovillette

“didn’t i tell you not to go so hard on your essay?” geto gives you a small smile, countered by your cute pout in the dark room of your dorm. the way he lectures is gentle, having no bite to it because how would he ever dare to sink his teeth into something as sweet as you? he knows if he does, however, he just might become addicted to you. it’s clear already how the teeth is breaking skin and drawing blood just by the items in the room:

both your faces are illuminated by the fairy lights you begged suguru to buy — he gives in and buys it for you as always. it’s shown in the starbucks mug that cost ¥3300, the sanrio themed bed sheets that you’re now sitting on, the convenience store onigiris for you to store in your fridge.

“was rushin’ it before 2359, su, you know that…” you mumble more to yourself than your boyfriend, who’s staring at you as your eyes droop sheepishly to your connected hands. it’s not wrong that you could’ve started writing this essay a little earlier, cited your sources a little earlier, but you still managed to do it; at the expense of your hands. they ached and throbbed from the position they were in for the past few hours — at least you still had managed to submit it with two minutes to spare.

“but not to the point where your hands turn sore, my darling.” geto brings your hands to his lips to kiss, like the little gesture of love could magically heal you. it feels like it does. the tenderness of his touch, the roughness of his finger pads against your smoother skin, the thoughtfulness itself. you grunt a little in pain when suguru starts to massage the palm, digging his thumb in and dragging it up and down. he squeezes your hands, giving each finger its attention, wiggling the hands to loosen your muscles.

“you know,” you hum in response and look up from your flustered state to find him already staring at you, “my mom used to do this for me.”

“yeah?” you whisper, heart pounding in your ears. two and a half months in and geto suguru was already treating you like treasure, not at all what they say he is: conceited of his intelligence, rude, a know-it-all rich kid. sure, he was smart, he was rich, but he made it clear he had no interest in the industrial, business side of the family. geto was generally open about his past, his parents leaving the toxic world and giving their son an upbringing filled with unconditional love and openness. but people usually liked the juicier gossip; none of them had bothered to know geto for who he was.

“yeah.” geto brings you in via your hands, lips colliding clumsily against yours from the force and you both laugh softly, “said its been passed down in her family for the longest time.”

“it’s helping… a little,” you giggle, eyes memorising his eyes shone under fluorescent.

“is it now?” the warmth of his hand leave yours for a moment to tilt your head up, catching your lips properly this time as he moves slow. suguru takes his time with you, moving against you as his other hand still continues to massage. that was one thing he was good at too, multitasking; he plays with your hand, travelling over your fingers and stroking over each section and its nail bed and then pulling away teasingly while he continues to hypnotise you into a dance. you hear him hum into the kiss, exhaling through his nose as he now interlocks both hands.

“focus on the squeezes, baby,” geto suguru drives you insane, in that little silky voice of his and the slight lilt in his voice. you let him lead you, feeling the soft pressure of his hand as he brings them above your heads and leans forward. you make a small surprised sound as he brings you right down to lay flat on the bed, hovering over you whilst still giving those periodic squeezes, entirely at his mercy as his lips never stop. they come off to breathe for some air and you’re the same, flushed cheeks and swollen lips and geto lets out a shaky breath.

it’s only then when he lets go, caught in your trance. easily, he tugs you into his lap as he lays down, not sure if he could uphold his obsession if he was on top.

“is this really part of the massage process?” you ask, legs naturally going to either side of his hips as you lay on his chest. you smile to yourself when you realise how fast his heart’s beating. off to the side, geto finds your hand again: him with his left and you with your right and you tangle into each other with the choreography of a million sprouts in the wind. finger into finger and palm against palm.

“hmm…” geto feigns confusion, prompting you to turn your head towards him. you grin seeing his red cheeks, “nah, just deviating a little from the family recipe… is it working?”

“it was earlier but now? oh, no, not really.” geto’s eyes flutter close when you move forward just a bit to peck his lips. you twine your fingers with his; you’re getting good at this multitasking thing. “but wherever you are, i will always feel much better than i was.”

“good.” suguru mumbles with a lovesick smile, and he gives your connected hands a squeeze and a grin threatens to spread across his face when you squeeze back just as hard, “that’s… really good.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk geto x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto x reader #jjk geto #suguru geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #getou x reader #geto x you #geto suguru

[milswrites]

Hobbies Part 9.

~ Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: none?

Azriel moved through the halls like a starved beast. Hunting for the one thing that could satisfy him. His mate.

After the bond had snapped into place Azriel had wasted no time in travelling through his shadows to the Day Court. Whilst he couldn’t directly travel into the palace, Azriel made sure to get as close to the wards as he possibly could. Not stopping to wait for a single minute as he forced his way into the grand building, uncaring of the shocked guards who had taken to chasing after him through the winding corridors, shouts of their objection flooding his ears.

He was searching for Helion. For the one person who could tell him where Y/N was staying, where Azriel so desperately needed to go.

The shouts of alarm from the Day Court guards was a blessing for Azriel, their call having drawn the attention of the High Lord. Helion appearing before Azriel in all his glory, there was no surprise on his face at the presence of the shadowsinger in his halls. In fact it was almost as if he was waiting for him.

“I must say you’re later than I expected, did you walk here?” The High Lord teased, flashing a blinding smile to an unimpressed Azriel.

“Where is she?” He growled out, not wanting to waste any precious time he could be having with Y/N by staying and talking to Helion longer than he needed to.

“What?” The male gasped mockingly, “no hello Helion? I’ve missed you Helion? You’re the greatest High Lord ever Helion? I was hoping for more after what I did for you, forging relationships isn’t my usual job role.”

“Where is she?” Azriel snarled once more, refusing to play this game. Azriel was surprised at the control he was showing, the ugly monster inside of him that was born from the revelation of the bond wanted nothing more than to hold a knife to the High Lord’s throat until he told him where Y/N had been sent.

Helion sighed, but the glint of something other than annoyance shone in his eyes and Azriel could tell that the male was pleased at Azriel’s impromptu arrival at his court, “She’s in a village North-East of here, it’s about a two hour flight… but with the state you’re in I’d reckon you could make it in one.”

Without as much as a thank you, Azriel sped from the scene, the guards that had been chasing after him divided, allowing the tense Illyrian to pass through them, fearing what would occur if they were to stop him.

Not even waiting until he had cleared the palace gate, Azriel stretched his wings and took flight, as if spending another hour without Y/N’s grounding presence would lead to most certain death.

And so Azriel flew faster than he had ever done in his life. The bitter evening wind biting his cheeks and knotting his unruly hair. But Azriel didn’t care, not about his appearance, not when every minute that passed meant he was getting closer and closer to his mate. His Y/N.

Azriel would have flown for centuries if he had to, if only it meant Y/N would be there waiting for him when he landed. The mating bond must have gifted some cauldron-blessed power to Azriel who found he had never flown so swiftly, wings acting on their own accord as they beat powerfully, allowing Azriel to cut through the sky like a blade.

Until he felt it, the gentle tugging growing stronger, drawing him towards where he most needed to be. Stirred on by the feeling and wanting to be consumed by it completely, Azriel followed. Slowing his flight until he came across a quaint village which was glowing amber as the sun set around it. Y/N was somewhere in this small collection of thatched houses and farms, unaware of the arrival of the male who had become overwhelmed with his want to be near her.

Landing with such a force that his knees buckled, Azriel readily cast his eyes to his surroundings, scanning for the woman he so longed to hold. He walked through the gathering crowd of alarmed villagers, whispering to each other in question as they clearly had never seen an Illyrian soldier before. Let alone one who looked as feral as Azriel no doubt did after his rushed flight, wings flared and cobalt siphons vibrating with the need to release the power building within him due to his increased adrenaline the bond was pulsating through him.

He scanned all their terrified faces, seeking the familiar features of the woman he had grown to love. Eyes jumping from villager to villager until they finally landed on her. On the woman who Azriel was prepared to drop onto his knees for and beg for her forgiveness. He would do anything to ensure her happiness.

~~~~~

“Azriel” she breathed his name from her lips in disbelief, needing to repeat it to be sure that he had truly existed and that he was here now, “Azriel?”

Here she was, stood before Azriel in the sweetest shade of violet and he found himself unable to speak, stunned by her innocent beauty. Even the small crease of her brows caused his heart to palpitate. All the words he had wished to tell her over the past two weeks lodged themselves in his throat. Nothing he could say would ever do justice to the incredible woman before him.

As the shock of his sudden appearance in the village wore away, confusion flooded her expression, “Is that…my tunic? How did you get that? It was in my house.”

Once more Azriel failed to find the words he so urgently required. His mouth open yet unspeaking like a fool. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his tunic to retrieve the item he had hurriedly crammed inside before his disappearance from the Night Court. Azriel pulled out the sketchbook she had given him on their very first day of meeting and held it out to a stunned Y/N.

“What- what’s this?” She asked, taking the book with a frown on her face.

“You were right” the words finally poured from his mouth, “about me being miserable, about how I don’t do anything. That my friends wouldn’t want me to do nothing and waste away.”

Her eyebrow twitched as she pulled open the sketchbook, the pages of which were filled with inky drawings of her. Azriel knows he had failed to capture the true beauty that is Y/N. He had never drawn before and numerous pages from the book had been torn out in his frustration at his lack of skills. But he had filled the book, page after page being covered in the hours he had spent by himself in the Night Court. The need to print her pretty face in permanent ink and capture her glowing smile before he forgot it led to Azriel picking up this new hobby. The one way to ensure that even if he never saw Y/N again, he would always carry a piece of her with him.

As she took the time to turn through each work or art Azriel had created in her honor, the trails of tears that freely flowed down her rosy cheeks and her rapidly beating heart which Azriel felt entwined with his own, gave the male the confidence to continue.

“I love you” he stated, Y/N’s affectionate gaze moving from the drawings to his deadly serious face. “I have done for a while I think” he continues, “and Y/N if you forgive me I will love you with every ounce of my being until we’re nothing but dust in the stars.”

Now sure that he had her attention and Y/N wouldn’t run away or ignore him for his disappearing act, Azriel felt free to tell her what he should have done when they were in the solitude of the garden all those weeks ago, “You are the reason my heart beats and if I had to live the rest of my life not knowing if you feel the same way I do, if you share the same burning need for you that I have, then I will surely perish because that is not a life that I want to live.”

He slowly stepped towards her, raising his hand to brush the diamond-like tears from her soft cheeks, “You are my salvation and my undoing and I will love you for as long as the mother allows. And if you’ll have me, even after all that happened, I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that I take you to explore every inch of Prythian. That we’ll see the world together and leave no place untouched.”

Allowing the notebook to slip through her fingers and drop onto the floor, Y/N grips Azriel by the front of his tunic, the tunic she had so lovingly made him, and pulled him in to a firey kiss, uncaring of the nosy villagers who were still gathered around them.

Unwilling to waste a single moment with Y/N that he was given, Azriel’s arms flew around the woman, pulling her roughly towards his chest and encasing her in his arms as their lips melted together. His lips which moved desperately against hers, wanting to express just how much she means to him and how harrowing the past few weeks without her had been. Y/N seemed to be on the same wavelength as the kiss she delivered him was filled with the same burning passion and uncontrollable need as his.

Finally, not wanting to get too carried away in front of the crowd of people who were now awkwardly staring at the pair, their lips broke apart, though Azriel refused to let go of Y/N’s waist, not wanting her to take another step further from him.

She smiled, lifting her hand so it brushed over the shoulder of his tunic, “it fits” she beams, pleased to see the shadowsinger wearing her clothes. “It’s perfect” he whispered whilst leaning his forehead against hers, “I think I’m going to need a whole wardrobe full of them. All with dresses to match for you of course. Pink, purple, blue, I want them all.”

“That’s a lot of work” she giggled, hands still running over her creation which fit snug against his broad form.

“If you give me another chance we’ll have all the time in the world” he said earnestly, pulling his head away from hers far enough that they could lock their eyes with each other, “I know I don’t deserve it after what I did to you but please allow me to have a do over. A proper date this time now that I’m not afraid to call it what it is.”

“No running away?” She asked, a brief glimpse of sadness in her eyes as the memory of his absence was still fresh in her mind.

“Not even the mother herself could drag me away from you now” he promised, lips brushing against his mates once more.

Part 10

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: I screamed the entire time I was writing this. She knows he loves her but she’s yet to find out about the bond…hmmm wonder how that will go.

Only one more chapter and then the epilogue and it’s over but I really don’t want it to be 😭😭😭

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #sarah j maas #azriel imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #azriel

[llamagoddessofficial]

What would happen if MC was a sea diver? Maybe she was exploring a ship reck and the siren boys bumped into them? How would they react?

Sans: He's much more calm, when she's a diver. There's something about her already being in his territory... rather than meeting her on land and wanting to drag her into the water, he meets her in the water, and needs to not give her any reasons to stop coming to the water. No need to be scary. Just take it slow.

They had a very tender moment at their first meeting. After first sighting one another, they spent a long few minutes just watching each other. In the same way that you wouldn't expect to see an actual orca while scuba diving in relatively shallow water, Mc wasn't expecting to see an orca siren. There was also an undeniable magic to the moment, staying still as possible and holding eye contact with a highly intelligent creature from an entirely different world to your own. When he did draw in, it was slow, mutual studying - she looked at every line and scar, he pretended to care about her equipment so she wouldn't be weirded out by him constantly staring deeply into her pretty eyes. The only physical contact they shared was a single brush of her hand against his (the only part of her not covered by wetsuit) before he left, cautious not to overstay his welcome and intimidate her.

He follows her around but rarely initiates contact. He enjoys 'playing'; showing her interesting things, retrieving lost items, introducing her to new and exciting wildlife and dive spots. He's going to get her to trust him. He just has to be patient.

Red: Y'know those videos of sharks coming right up to a diver for scritches? That's him. Unlike Sans' cautious and slow approach, Red was very Red, and upon spotting her just bulldozed right over to her. She tried to be a responsible diver and not interact at all with wildlife, staying on the seafloor and slowly backing away from him, but Red wasn't gonna let that happen - and what's she going to do, swim away? Cute. She can't outswim him. On their first meeting he squeezed any part of her he could reach before she could pull out of range again (arms, legs, hips,) tapped on her scuba mask, blew bubbles at her, and bit a chunk out of one of her dive buddy's flippers as a warning. He's brazenly flirting.

He 'behaves' when she gives him attention. At first she was genuinely intimidated, but now she treats him like an overenthusiastic large dog. Funnily enough he does genuinely like scritches, especially on the parts of him he can't easily get to, like on his tail and behind his main fin.

He and Sans usually manage to alternate what days they show up to see her, but when they do see each other they frequently get into scraps. Especially if one of them thinks the other is too close. Sans doesn't like Red's forwardness with her, and Red doesn't like a crazed lonely orca being anywhere near his fragile human, but both are unwilling to kill and reveal their bloodthirsty natures. They force themselves to get along... especially when sight of the two giants fighting immediately makes her evacuate the water.

Skull: He was probably living in a wreck she dove in. It's nice and dark, but spacious, and full of interesting trinkets he can collect. On their first encounter, Skull spent most of his time silently stalking Mc in the dark water. She didn't notice him until the very last second; you can imagine the shock and terror at shining a light into a shadowy corner and illuminating a massive grinning face.

She doesn't entirely know what he would've done to her, in the confinement of that wreck, if she hadn't shone the light into his face and startled him long enough to get the fuck out of there. But from that point on, no matter where she dives, if neither Red nor Sans show up Skull will always be there. He makes his aquarium counterpart proud by stealing her things. She doesn't understand why - he gives the items back eventually, so does he even really want them? Is he a kleptomaniac? Is this just a way to get her attention? Who knows. At least he doesn't eat her. He absolutely could; despite regularly diving in groups, nobody ever sees him coming until her kit is already missing.

#llamagines #siren sanses #skull is trying to show her he's friendly #she cant run away again if he's got her clearly-valuable flashy thing #then when she comes to get it he gives it back :) #forced to interact with him #over time she'll learn that he's safe and also an excellent partner

[the--rebel--fae]

ME ME FIRST IM FIRST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X FEM READER WHO LIKE A HOUSEWIFE IN THE HOTEL AND TAKES CARE OF NIFTTY AND CHARLE AS IF THEY WERE HER AND ALASTOR CHILDREN

A/N: You my friend, caught my attention first because of such an adorable response. So ask and ye shall receive! Here's hoping I do Alastor justice.

(This is an adorable request btw)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

Tw: None! Just pure fluff!

Word count: 745

The Hazbin Bunch

Ever since you came to the Habin Hotel, it felt like everyone was a little family. You were an older demon, having died back in the forties. So you have been in hell for quite some time. 

When you first saw the TV commercial you wanted to see what it was all about. Especially since you heard that your old friend Alastor was involved. You haven’t seen him in years. Seven to be exact. And to know that he was back sent butterflies in your stomach. You never told him, but you always harbored feelings for the eccentric radio host. You never had the guts to tell him though since you feared messing up your friendship.

Little did you know, he had feelings for you as well. Alastor was already intrigued with you when you first met. Just the way you carried yourself and treated others. It was also a plus that you hated that infernal TV just as he did. Plus, you were a great conversationalist and probably the only one who could keep up with him when you had the time to dance.

Soon enough, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, Nifty, and even Sir Pentious became family to you. Almost as if they were your children. 

“Nifty my dear, if you truly want to kill those little bugs I suggest you swing your knife in a diagonal direction instead of a perpendicular. That way, they have less of a chance to escape.” You told the little red-headed cyclops girl as she chased around a few stray roaches.

Nifty paused briefly and looked up at you from your seat at the bar. “Ooh! That’s a great idea! Less chance for them to escape hehe.” She giggled creepily and then started back on her roach hunt. 

You shook your head and smiled fondly at the girl. Then turning back to Husk you regarded him with a warm smile. “Well, since I’m here I mine as well indulge in a small drink. What do you have in mind for me today Husk? I do so love the different drinks you concoct. If you worked at a bar back in my days on Earth, you’d be regarded as an artist.”

Husk chuckled as he started up your drink. “Weren’t you alive durin’ prohibition times though?”

You just waved your hand nonchalantly. “Ah, semantics. Besides, you know what they say. Nothing fun ever comes from following the rules.”

“How right you are Cher! Why if people followed the rules, things would be so terribly boring.” Alastor said as he popped out from seemingly nowhere.

Husk handed you your drink and you smiled as you took a sip. “Oh, hello Al. How was the radio show today?”

Alastor’s eyes lit up and his smile shone brightly. Most people would find it off-putting but you personally loved it. “It went splendidly, my dear! Thank you for asking.”

You were about to say something more, but then Charlie came down the main stairs drawing your attention. “Charlie, my dear! How are you, sweetie? Do you feel any better since the latest meeting with that infernal angel? Ad-what’s his name? The first man, I guess?”

Charlie met your gaze and smiled. “I’m doing a little bit better (y/n), thanks. But you don’t have to worry so much. That meeting was a month ago!’

You just chuckle. “That may be so, but I can tell how stressed you’ve been hun.”

Angel Dust clicks his tongue as he takes a seat beside you. “You know toots, sometimes it seems like you're the mom of this place with how ya act.” He then glanced at Alastor who unbeknownst to you was gazing fondly at you. “An if you're the mother of this joint, that’d make ol smiles here the dad.”

“Haha! You know, that doesn’t sound too bad Ma Cherie. I’d consider myself lucky to be assumed to be your husband.” Alastor said as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Instead of commenting, you could only blush furiously. Feeling the heat crawl all the way up to your ears, you tried your best to compose yourself and hide your growing smile behind your glass. Almost hoping that Alastor didn’t catch how much his comment made your long-dead heart soar. But he was no fool, he could see that beautiful smile of yours even as you tried to hide it behind the crystalline glass. 

Perhaps you truly were like a little family after all. 

Hope you enjoyed the story my friend! I gotta say, this was an adorable request. I had a lot of fun with it!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several page long one shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #requests #reqs open #alastor #hazbin hotel season 1 #the rebel fae #one shots

[shonee]

lil screenshot redraw for the 3rd anniversary (that i forgot to upload, so have it for the... 3.25 year anniversary)

#starlight brigade #screenshot redraw #shonee draws things #twrp #slb

[peachesofteal]

Happy Hunting

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Consensual non consent. Explicit sex, creampie. Predator/prey, hunter/hunted. Use of restraints, a gag. Blood, violence. Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Horror-ish. Horror media references/influenced. Tags are for your health, not mine. “Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance." - Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

It was the porch light, that cost you everything.

The porch light that flickered through the brush with strokes of silver moonlight, the porch light that cast a wan, yellowed haze out from its warped wooden and stone host. The porch light, that shone like a lighthouse, calling you home, calling you to safety, security. To sanctuary. 

You spotted it from a distance the first day, once you had already changed course that morning, tromping across a stream and shimmying through a nasty spool of barbed wire. You hunkered down next to an outcropping of rock, peering through the morning fog, searching for your hunter, watching for the tell tale signs of his presence, a wide path cut through the forest by his broad body, punctuated by trampled underbrush, damaged petals and leaves. The house stood on the hill in the distance, rising just above the tree line, the shimmer of the little yellow light drawing you in, making you curious, filling you with an urge to look closer, as the hair on the back of your neck rose in warning. 

The rocks were a perfect natural shelter, a good place to take a nap, if you wanted, if you could. It would be easy to bed down in the soft dead-fall of the leaves, sink into the earth, into the heavy mist that had lingered past dawn, but you couldn’t risk closing your eyes. Not even for a second. Not when you knew he was so close, when you could hear his breath, feel the pads of his fingers on your skin, reaching, stretching, desperate to snatch you away forever. If you held your body still, you swore you could feel the vibration of his feet in the forest, rustling against the brush, covertly honing in on your location, stalking closer and closer to his target. His victory. 

Even if you never saw him, you knew he was out there, watching patiently. Waiting for you to make a mistake, for you to miscalculate. 

You told yourself the house was not an option. Even when you got a good look at it on that first day, something about it stuck low in your belly, an off feeling, a warning. You opted to circumvent the entire thing, giving the long overgrown driveway, endlessly black windows and snarled thicket that grew thick at its foundation a wide berth. 

Old stone mansions left abandoned, remnants of old families, old money left to rot, were not unheard of in this area. You had spent your youth crawling around in them and knew them well, knew their warning signs, understood what it felt like when they might give way on you. You knew how to unlock their secrets, knew how to read the gothic stories that had settled into the crumbling, peeling wallpaper. They spoke their own languages, histories spiraling out from their nooks and crannies, trauma and laughter etched into the joists and support beams, sagging with the weight of their own age. They could be easy to read, easy to listen to, if you knew which doors to pry open, and which to leave locked shut. 

Still, it was too convenient. Too much of a risk. Too much confinement. There was a zero chance of you besting him in a physical fight, and you had to depend on your speed for survival, your aptitude, your skill to ensure your success. Pigeonholing yourself in a mansion with god knows what inside did not allow you to excel at the things you were good at.

You felt confident in your decision to avoid the house. You felt good about it.

The storm rolled in with tenacity. The rain was frigid, wind howling through to your bones, chilling the blood that pumped in your heart. It's strength pulled at your resolved, ready to tear you to pieces, to force you to your knees. It pushed you off course, away from the rushing water of the creek, and up the hill of water soaked leaves. 

You lost your bearings for a moment, and that’s all it took for you to slip up, all that was needed for you to catch the sight of his grim shadow from the corner of your eye, the crack of a branch breaking beneath his boot shattering across your brain like a gunshot. 

You tore through the woods, gait bogged down by the water logged earth, by the thick of the mud, chased by the sound of his voice, calling for you through the forest over the raging fury of the storm. 

"Happy hunting, little dove." 

You narrowly escaped, but the skull mask watched. He waited. He tracked. 

He hunted. 

It’s too dark.

Too dark to see anything, too dark to see your hands that are spread out in front of your body, hands that desperately try to act as your eyes, feeling, touching, scraping across surfaces to keep you from bumping into things. Doors. Walls. Whatever could be lying in wait here.

The weight of your wet clothing irks you. It hangs heavily on your body, and you wish you had chosen better layers, shivers working up and down your spine, goosebumps rising against the soaked chill of your shirt. It could be pneumonia that gets you in the end, if he doesn't catch you first, you muse bitterly, wringing yourself out as well as you can, water droplets pattering against what you believe sounds like a wooden floor. 

The lack of light is unnerving. You'd expected it, knew the chances of there being anything working in here slim, but you still hoped that maybe the lone flickering porch light meant there was something still left inside these old bones, a spark, a connection feeding a light switch or a lamp somewhere. The dark of the house is endless, and your mind works quickly to imagine the worst case scenarios, the potential that this tenebrous pitch may drag you below forever settling heavily in the back of your mind. It's deep, the darkness of the house, like you could fall into it and drown, never resurfacing, never to see the sun again. You move slowly, hands in front of your face, body and feet making contact with as much of the wall as you can, trying to paint a picture with touch. The dark, combined with the new and unfamiliar territory, is enough to unsettle your usual steady demeanor. 

The combination is a lethal one. It’s one that leaves you hesitant. Unsure. It’s one that keeps you off balance, spine ram rod straight, nerves alight with fear. 

It wasn’t so bad, in the woods. The silver glow of the moon illuminated the lay of the forest, sprawling swaths of brush and low growing thistle, tall trunks that stretched to the sky, stout shrubs with thorns that scratched at your clothes. That was easier, than this. 

Easier than this maze called a house. Easier than these hallways that morphed into a labyrinth that stretched for miles and miles, twisting together into a Fibonacci sequence of pitch-dark terror.

No. You swallow. You’re not afraid. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. You're going to win. 

But even as you repeat it to yourself, even as you coach your reserve, you can hear his voice. Can hear the grit and gravel of the Manchester accent, can smell his skin against yours, lips rough on your mouth before your cheeks were pinched between a thumb and forefinger.

“Want to play a game?” 

You work forward in a half crouch, staying pressed to the wall, form as tight as you can manage, unobtrusive. Your hand stays projected in front of your body, the other along the wall, waiting to feel an angle, an edge, a door, a window… anything.

You shouldn’t have come in here. You walked right into a trap, you're sure of it now, fairly positive after feeling the way the corridor twists and turns away from the front. Walked right into a confined space and now you’re lost, stuck, like a fly in a web. Waiting to be devoured. Waiting for your end to be delivered by a spider who lurks just out of sight.

But you did it for a reason, didn’t you?

You’re so, so close to the finish line. So close you can taste it, the trepidation beading into sweat that drips down your back, cold and unwelcome against the damp of your shirt. It’s already been two days. The morning of the third day is just on the horizon, sun due to come up, you think, within a few hours. Your mouth salivates at the thought of it, the idea of sinking your teeth into sweet, sweet victory. Of winning. Of beating him. 

You take a moment to stop and reassess, swiping your palms along the wall and floor, working on controlling your breathing. It’s becoming jagged, anxiety spilling out through your lungs with each step you take, fear moving through you like ice freezing in your veins, creeks and streams being lost to the winter’s chill, a disease slowly spreading towards your heart.

You use it to focus. You cannot see, but that doesn’t mean you've lost, and it doesn't make you weak. It makes all your senses stronger, your hearing, your ability to smell, your translation of touch into sight. The wall turns here, the floor dips there, does that feel like a ledge? You crawl in your crouch, lips sealed tight against soft whimpers that threaten to expose you over the little pieces of wood that get lodged in your palms.

Splinters. Unfinished lumber.

It confirms your theory. The mansion itself is old, stuck up on this plot land, nestled in the thick of the forest, abandoned, nearly completely forgotten about by all… save for one. One, who’s been building inside of it, one who’s been creating in its guts. Hollowing it out and remaking it into something new, a hellscape of hallways, a complicated vision executed by someone who’s running from the same demons, the same nightmares that you are.

Your heart sinks past your stomach, down into your knees. Continuing to run this rat race is foolish. He built it. He knows it. He pushed you here, urged you over the hill, across the stream, beneath the barbed wire. He dictated your path, forcing you into the light of the porch, herding you closer and closer because he knew. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist it, in the end. He knew you. 

Find a different part of the house. Escape. Hide, until sunrise. 

You keep going, carefully, creeping along the walls, navigating lefts and rights and forks in the labyrinth until your fingers tap silently across an empty door frame, nothing on the other side except the continuous black void of darkness.

Your feet slide forward, boots sliding until the floor disappears. A drop off? There’s more, a flush piece, a curved groove.

Stairs.

You blink, even though it will do you no good, it won’t clear your vision or make the lights in this decrepit place suddenly flicker on. Your hands are your sight, and you run your fingers along the curve of the top step, until you feel the next, and the next.

You take them half on your belly, half on your knees. It’s slow, achingly so, and puts you in a vulnerable position, but the fall, if there were to be one, would be much, much worse if you risked attempting them fully standing. It takes forever to get to the bottom, and you feel a small tug of relief when your palms rub across a cold concrete floor. 

There’s a noise. It’s a banging, of sorts. Like a door swinging, and you jolt, reaction fueled by adrenaline, barreling forward into the dark, slamming into the wall with your hip. It stings, the slap of concrete zinging across your skin and you hiss instinctively, before clapping a hand over your face to muffle the sound.

You curse yourself. That was too loud. 

A floorboard creaks above your head. The acid in your stomach rises.

You hold yourself as still as you can, palm still pressed over your mouth, body bent low. You keep contact with the wall as much as possible, shoulder, thigh, part of your back. Stay low. Stay small. It’s an advantage you have, your size versus his. Even if you aren’t particularly petite, you’re nimble, graceful and quick. Something you’ve been using for the past two days to stay one step ahead, something you used earlier to orchestrate your narrow escape in the woods. You use it now, to find a corner, a little nook of rough cement, and squeeze your body inside.

Heavy feet take the stairs slowly, step by step until you see the bright white beam of a flashlight sweeping across the floor methodically, back and forth, back and forth. It moves across the room, around the stairs, opposite of the corner you think you’ve tucked yourself into.

Just hold your breath. Stay quiet. You can still win. You can still make it. 

The flashlight flicks off with a dramatic click. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip so hard it draws blood.

Maybe he didn’t see you. Maybe he doesn’t know you’re even here. 

Seconds drag into minutes, and you think you hear heavy footfalls upstairs. Or possibly on the stairs. You can’t be too sure. It’s too dark, and the pitch is disorientating. It’s hard to tell right side up, up from down.

This could be heaven. It could be hell.

You stay burrowed in that corner against the cinderblock for what you believe must be at least fifteen minutes, if not longer. Your body aches from being pushed in on itself, and you blink in the dark, breathing slower than a corpse, listening. Waiting.

Your boot slides across the concrete. Seeking. Touching… bumping into solid mass. You realize it a second too late. Time freezes, and you with it, heart encased in ice. Your eyes slam shut, and a whimper builds in the back of your throat.  

A hand wraps around your ankle, and you screech, curling forward with your fingers bent like talons, flying towards what you hope is his face, desperate to sink your nails into his skin and tear, rip him open so you can get away. He grabs your arm, stabilizing your contact, the strength in his grip that of more than two men, at least, and drags you across the floor, iron bar of his ulna holding you still and steady.

A piece of metal scratches against wood. A flick, a flicker, and then-

A wash of orange-yellow light. You’ve been in the dark for hours at this point, and your sight struggles to refract, pulling back behind half shut lids even though the light itself is not that bright.

You tilt your head back and look up.

String lights. He’s hung string lights up down here, little bulbs on black wire stapled to the rafters like you’re in some romantic comedy. Like there should be a two top table here with a pile of spaghetti and meatballs, carafe of wine and checkered tablecloth.

“Hung these just for you, dove. Knew you’d like ‘em.” His breath is burning hot against your face, and you twist, swinging your entire skull into his chest and trying to dig your heels into the ground for leverage. You catch a glimpse of his face, maskless, the twice-healed broken nose, cheek scar and sharp edged jaw unmistakable, even with your fogged vision. 

“Get OFF me you FUCKING FREAK, I-“ His thigh presses against your knee and then you’re swooping, thrown off balance in a second thought with a scream, free hand ripping across into his hair and yanking with everything you have.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t flinch, wrestling you to the ground with ease. You don’t have much fight left in you, after two days of hiding, running, trying to be smarter, be faster, and you’re spent on all ends, this last little spat the end of everything you had. He knows it.

Still, when he fish hooks his thumb into between your lips, you bite down with all your might, sinking your incisors into his skin in hopes of drawing blood.

He laughs, and your mouth fills with the mineral-metallic liquid, his thumb swirling inside your teeth and across your gums. 

You know you’re well and truly fucked.

The knife makes quick work of your shirt. Your tac pants, the good pair, go next, along with your boots. He lurks above for you a long moment before he cuts your bra away, your nipples tightening in reaction to the temperature, to everything that’s happening in this moment, in this basement.

“Gave me the slip in the woods earlier, little dove. Very clever.” He praises you, bending your arms behind your back and then working a rope around your wrists, knotting it securely, but not too tight. “Almost made it. Think you might’ve, if you hadn’t come in ‘ere.” Your underwear rips away without pretense, without hesitation and you swallow, mouth gaping wide, teeth trying to cut over the gag. “But I know why you did. I know you wanted to get caught.” You shake your heard furiously, and he clucks his tongue in mock sympathy, soothing a warm hand up and down the outside of your thigh. “Come on dove, let me see.” He pries your legs apart, baring you wide, where you drip for him, slick with arousal, with heat. He hums something to himself; two blunt fingers stroking down your seam and then back up around your swollen clit. You buzz with his touch, muscles reacting on their own, spine curving just a little, hips twitching. He stays there, on his knees between your thighs, an immovable force, keeping you from closing up around him or blocking his touch, and his thumb rubs your clit in a circle. “What a good girl. Gettin’ all wet for me.” You shake your head, and he tips his head back and laughs. “Don’t lie. Pretty little cunt here loved bein’ hunted, eh? Look at how soaked she is. Practically dripping.” He presses a finger inside, the depth of his reach enough to punch your lungs out, body seizing up around him as he strokes upwards, thumb slicking across your clit until you're writing underneath him. You’re going to cum, you’re going to cum on this dirty fucking floor like a- “Ah, ah. You know the rules.” He rasps next to your ear. “What do you need to do?”

“Nnrgh!” you spit through the cloth, and he sighs long and loud, like he’s emptying himself of all his breath with exasperation, fingers smearing your own fluids over your face as he pulls it free. “Please.” You gasp. It’s barely a plea, something more venomous, more spiteful, but it’s enough for him, and he nods, placing the fabric back into your mouth with a pop of his wrist. You don’t want to, you don’t want to give in, let him win, let him have this, make it so easy but he's playing your body so well, expertly, making you sing for him from behind the gag, and you cannot stop the tidal wave that swims over you, your orgasm breaking you apart, smug grin scrawled across his face with pleasure. 

When he takes his cock out, dragging his briefs and pants beneath his hips, all while keeping a single hand pressed to your belly, your eyes widen. He’s huge, thick with a fat red tip, dribbles of pre cum leaking above where he’s got you splayed open. He’s going to tear your apart. 

“You put up such a good fight, dove. Made me wait so long, hid so well.” The heat of his cock sears against your thigh, and you grunt, brows furrowed, mouth dry behind the gag. Your tongue pushes against it helplessly, fingers fisted tight in the binding beneath your lower back. It’s not particularly comfortable, but the position bares your breasts to him, and keeps you off balance enough that he can manipulate you as he sees fit. “But you still lost.” The gleam in his eye is wild, wicked enough to make your toes curl, hair on the back of your neck standing straight up. Is this a man? Or a monster? Or both?

He presses inside and you see stars, you see the whites of your own eyes, see the currents of electricity in the air. It hurts, a gnawing bite that spreads to your cervix, magma spilling forward and scorching along your walls. He doesn’t slow either, doesn’t stop, just thrusts all the way through, deeper and deeper, splitting you open on his cock just how he likes. 

“Ffuumph-“ You moan, and a plate sized palm pats your face soothingly, your knees pinned back towards your ears, his chest against yours. He knows it hurts. Knows it stings, his hips stuttering with his strokes, tongue hot against your neck, mopping up the tears that leak from the corner of your eyes.

“I know, I know. Be good." He licks your cheek before taking it between his teeth, and you keen, clenching around him the heat of his cock without a thought. It’s wild, and violent, like you’re being ripped open raw, torn apart by the weight of the end of it all, the consequences of your loss, of getting caught. “Is this is what you needed? What you begged me for-“ You sputter a refusal, a wail of nonsense but there’s no denial of your body’s reaction, the way you tighten around him, the way your body goes gooey for him, cunt glossy with it.

He thumbs your clit, and you moan, half agonized, half delirious, stuffed full, neurons firing across your brain, cunt spasming in time with his thrusts. "So proud of you. Did so good, dove." Your back arches involuntarily, legs trying to snap closed, burn in your belly growing and growing to a precipice, a reckless edge that you know you’re going to be thrown over in a matter of seconds. He reads it, reads you, and plucks the gag free, swooping low to replace it with his mouth, holding your jaw steady, the kiss long and lingering. He gives you more and more, spearing you with his cock, dragging in and out of your pulsing cunt, cooing in your ear over the sound of your moans. "That's it, that's my girl. There you go, come- come on." Your muscles tense and you explode with an orgasm, body melting with a shudder. You turn to liquid, practically putty, all soft and malleable in his arms and he fucks you deep, frantically, chasing after his own release, dragging his nose into your hair with a groan of something unintelligible. You're still clenching around him, wired tight, little explosions of fireworks reverberating through your cunt as he takes his victory, notching himself to the very depth of your body and flooding you with come.

 

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it. The house.” His arms cradle your limp body, nose skimming up your jaw.  

“It was a nice touch.” The words come out as a yawn, stretched out and spent, like your body. Like your mind. Just how you like it.

“You lost, dove.” He murmurs and you nod pathetically. “Want to try again?” He works his touch in the wet mess between your legs, flicking through his own come, your slick and you mewl in his palm.

“Yes."  

“I think I should get more of a head start this time.” Simon raises an eyebrow, a shadow of greed, of hunger arcing across his irises before his arm is curling around your back and pulling you into his chest. 

“Don’t I usually give you enough of a head start, love?” 

“You do, but… Si. Come on. It’s hardly fair.” 

“You’re faster than me.” Lips press tenderly against your temple. “Beat me every time in a foot race. Besides, I have something… for you. A gift.” Your head spins when you think about that word, gift. It frightens you. It electrifies you. 

“I know but… I want to build it up a little more.” Still, you have to protest a little. You want a longer chase. Need it. Crave it. 

“Alright.” He concedes, head tilting to the side, eyes half lidded. “And the prep-“ 

“Not too much.” You tip back your glass of wine, drop of red leaking from the corner of your lips, tannins blooming across your tongue as he laps it up. “I want it to hurt.” You murmur it into his mouth, rolling the rich liquid from behind your teeth until he’s working you open and it spills forward, drowning the two of you in red cherry and oak until you’re falling to the floor, and he’s kissing your breastbone with a whisper. 

“Okay, dove. Not too much.”

#tw dark and twisty #tw dark themes #peaches writes #dove x simon #I really like these two #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod x reader #mw2 #ghost cod

[gothgengargirl]

The Works

You came to the new salon mostly on a whim. It was a Sunday, so it’s not like you had anything special in mind for the next day. Just work. Boring, dreary, work. But you thought that feeling pretty might help the work week go a little more smoothly. Give your colleagues something else to talk about besides meetings and progress updates. You wanted to feel seen for once.

For such a nice place, it was a pleasant surprise that you were able to get a walk-in appointment. Fern’s Grove, it was called. Cute name. The ceilings were high, and the place felt remarkably open and airy for being just another building in a strip mall. A fountain bubbled away cheerfully, a variety of exotic plants growing alongside it. The air was even perfumed, floral and berry-like, but in a way you couldn’t quite place. And the woman at the counter, who set your bag in a drawer and got you settled into a astonishingly comfortable chair, was gorgeous. Everyone who worked here was gorgeous. If this was how they took care of themselves, you felt like you were in good hands.

Your cosmetologist came up to you just as you were getting settled. She was just as beautiful as everyone else, maybe more so, with her dramatic cat eye makeup, purple hair and generous curves. She handed you a laminated list of your options, and you could hear her whistling cheerfully in the background as she got her instruments together and you looked over your choices. Hair cut, hair color, hair extensions. Face wash, moisturizing treatments, full makeup. Permanent makeup? That sounded intriguing. Manicure, pedicure, they even offered waxing services (presumably those were in another room). And one thing at the bottom stuck out to you, drawing your attention like a light in the darkness.

The Works.

“I’ll take The Works, please,” you said, almost instinctively. You wanted to see what this place could do.

“Sure about that, doll?” Her voice was sweet like honey, with an edge of something in it. Condescension? Anticipation? Both?

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then, The Works, coming right up. Lift your arms.”

You did so instinctively. You were always good at following directions. And you thought you knew what was going to happen. She would put an apron on you to protect your clothes, you would talk about what cut and color you wanted for the hair, maybe get your shoes off and your feet soaking for the pedicure.

That’s not what happened.

Cables descended from that high, airy ceiling, and wrapped themselves around your wrists. You tried, briefly, to pull away, but you were held in place. Like a puppet on her strings. Clamps emerged from the chair to do the same to your ankles. You were stuck.

A momentary wave of panic was replaced by a curious fear, as you could feel something seeping from your new restraints. Soaking into the skin of your wrists and ankles. It felt GOOD. Like you were being polished from the inside, like all of the tension in your body was replaced with pleasure. And as you sank back briefly, She placed something over your head. A visor. You tried to close your eyes, but the flashing colors shone through your eyelids, and you opened them out of curiosity. And once they were open, you never wanted to close them again.

At first the messages were simply soothing. Telling you to relax, to sink, to accept all of the new feelings in your body. And there were new feelings. You couldn’t see anything but the swirling colors, couldn’t hear anything but the whispered suggestions from that set of headphones that must have come on just after the visor. But you felt good. Hands nimbly massaged your scalp. The waves of whatever it was from your restraints spread all the way through your arms and legs, making them feel limp and loose and silky smooth and perfectly plastic.

Plastic?

Perfect. Plastic. Puppet.

Pretty. Programmed. Plaything.

This was what the suggestions in your head were saying now. And you kind of liked the sound of it. On some level, you knew that you had work in the morning. You were a Busy Woman With Important Things To Do. But you always hated it. There was another way now? And at least for this afternoon, you could enjoy being a

Perfect

Pretty

Plaything

...

Time passed. You couldn’t tell how long. Minutes? Hours? Days? Time felt less and less meaningful, paying attention to the sensations running through your body. It was almost like an orgasm, but orgasms came and went much faster than this. This was a slow build, leading to a great flowing tide of ecstasy. You didn’t want it to stop. You never wanted to stop being a programmed plastic puppet.

But then, as suddenly as it started, it ended. The visor and the headphones were pulled off. The restraints at your arms and legs snapped open, your arms dropping into your lap. Your hands moved automatically, one of them grasping a breast, the other rubbing at your crotch shamelessly.

As your eyes focused again, you were amazed with what you saw in the mirror. She… you… was different. Your clothes didn’t fit the same way—blouse swollen and buttons open, skirt disheveled and riding up over thicker thighs. Your mouth was hanging open, lips larger than they were before, and your tongue was hanging out. It was pierced! A blue gemstone sitting in your pretty pink mouth, its color matching your new long nails, your thick eye shadow. Your gleaming metallic hair. And the place on your neck that didn’t even look like flesh anymore. It was seemingly embedded in your skin, blue circuits tracing out from a thick black band.

A Collar.

You didn’t even look human anymore, did you? You looked like…

A Doll.

“What do you think, hun?” said the voice behind you. The voice you now instinctively knew as Owner.

“I don’t think. I just obey.” Automatic.

“Good girl. Stop touching yourself.”

You did, immediately. Arms limp at your sides. Awaiting further instructions.

“What are you?”

“I’m just a doll. An empty-headed plaything.”

“Excellent! And what do you want me to do next?”

“Please…” these words felt like they were escaping from your soul. They were your soul. All you had left was this one thought.

“Please play with me”.

You saw Owner’s luscious mouth open into a wide toothy grin as you said that, watching her and you in the mirror. And then you didn’t think anything else. Not for a long while. Dolls don’t think, they just obey.

Good Doll.

#this story literally came to me in a dream #i was half asleep and held my arms up #and thought hey i can work with this #dollification #transformation #brainwashing #hypnosis #robotization #femcorp #dollify yourself #some of the verbiage is borrowed from hypno files i enjoy #ask nice and i can send you some links #💙💙💙 #💙💚💜

[wileys-russo]

Hi, can you please make another ficlet for team bonding. The story is so good!!!

y'all really do be going crazy in the asks for mapi x ingrid x reader can't blame you tbh i adore them

team bonding team bonding ficlet

if there was one thing you hadn't predicated with your insanely irregular sleeping schedule, was for it to eventually bleed into your relationship.

which is why it took you so by surprise to come home one afternoon, having gone out for lunch to catch up with an old friend who was travelling around europe, and find ingrid dead asleep on the sofa.

you almost thought she was joking, mocking your regular afternoon naps in the sun as she curled into herself on the end of the lounge, tall limbs bathed in the warm barcelona sun which shone through the huge windows of your apartment.

so you'd smiled and let out an amused chuckle, moving to the bedroom and abandoning your bag, your other girlfriend sprawled out on the bed, the spaniard engrossed in a tense game of fifa.

you shook your head as an angry string of spanish let her mouth, cursing patri who was playing remotely from her own apartment across town, forever competitive in every aspect of her life on and off the pitch.

"don't play for too long amor your eyes will go square." you teased, kissing her cheek a few times as she hastily blew you one of her own, her intense gaze never leaving the screen on the wall for even a second as she scored and yelled loudly in celebration making you smile in amusement.

though your smile turned into a curious frown as you left the bedroom and again still found ingrid curled up in the sun, glancing down as bagheera rubbed himself affectionately against your leg.

"hola bello." you smiled, reaching down to scratch behind his eyes as he purred, the small noise causing the norweigen to crack open one eye tiredly, wincing and covering her face with her hand.

"good morning vakker jente." you teased, a tired smile curling into her cherry pink lips at her native language as you moved to stand beside her, moving a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

still half asleep she stayed silent, exhaling tiredly and reaching up to tug on your shirt, opening her arms and shuffling backwards a little to make room beside her.

"holaa." you sang out quietly with a smile, giving in and laying down beside her, placing a soft kiss to her lips as she hummed, eyes fluttering closed again as her hands settled on the small of your back, drawing your body even closer into hers.

"what happened to 'sleeping in the middle of the day is a meaningless waste of time and energy'?" you grinned, your palm settling on her warm cheek as you stole another few sweet kisses, your girlfriend far too tired to do much more than accept them with a soft smile.

"shush." she mumbled, her hand covering your face as your body vibrated with amusement against hers. "so you now admit a midday nap is nice, no?" you teased, poking at her nose as she huffed. "you're a bad influence elskling." ingrid murmured, a small smile fighting its way not to spread across her face.

"you have to wake up mi vida, we have media in an hour." you reminded gently, moving your hand to slip up her top, tracing a finger up and down her bare side.

"mmm ten more minutes." she exhaled deeply, eyes closing again as she pulled you even closer into her taller figure if that was even possible. "okay baby, ten more." you laughed quietly, shuffling up slightly as her face tucked into the side of your neck, a few lazy kisses pressed to your jaw.

however your blissful peace didn't even last another five, the door to your bedroom opening and footsteps sounding as your eyes opened just in time to see a blur of blur of blonde hair, tattoos and a pearly white grin come hurtling toward you.

"maria!" you both groaned with a grunt as she threw her body down onto the two of you. "bon dia!" the defender sang out loudly, kisses pressed all over your tangled limbs, her warm lips eventually spreading their attack onto your faces.

"you are such a child!" you huffed, pushing her face away and curling more into ingrid who held on tightly. "hey! where was my invite?" mapi sat up, her lower half wedged inbetween the two of you as she scowled.

"you were too busy with patri yelling at your stupid game like the players can hear you." ingrid mumbled, her eyes still firmly shut as you laughed.

"ah! puta." you kicked at your girlfriend who sharply pinched the back of your thigh, mumbling about the two of you always ganging up on her.

"move, let me in the middle." the eldest of the three of you gestured with her hands, huffing impatiently when neither of you moved a muscle. "por favor mi amor's, move!" she whined now, pouting like a betrayed toddler making you roll your eyes.

you felt ingrids lips curl into a smile against your skin as she buried her face deeper into your neck, again neither of you moving, if anything only tucking in closer to one another. "bien!" she grunted, leaning down and starting to forcefully drag you away from the warm comfort of your girlfriends arms.

"no, maria!" you couldn't help but laugh, tangling your legs with ingrids as mapi grunted, hands locking under your arms and hauling you away.

your body almost falling off the couch she rolled over you and slotted herself into the middle, arms wrapping around your midsection and tugging your back into her front.

"see bebita? much better." the spaniard sighed happily peppering your face with kisses before craning her neck back to grin up at ingrid who opened her eyes with a sigh and shook her head.

"you are such a softie."

#mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #woso x reader #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #mapi leon #ingrid engen

[skipper1331]

Baby // Esme Morgan

a/n: based off this request. Enjoy:)

"My love" the blonde whispered as she hugged from behind, trailing soft kisses along your neck. You couldn‘t help but melt in her grasp, your skin tingling at each brush of her lips. "You‘re so beautiful" her hands rested flat on your growing stomach. Ever since you told Esme that you were pregnant, her sweet girl personality just turned sweeter. She was the happiest person, you were her wife and soon the mother of her child. Everything felt perfect, Esme treated you with so much respect and love, cared about you like no one else did.

"I missed you today" you whispered, your head falling against her shoulder as you softly swayed to the soft music in the background.

"I missed you too but I’m also a bit mad at you" she matched your voice level, still pressing featherlight kisses along your skin.

You stopped your movement, turning in her hold as you looked at her confused, "why?"

"My girl, I told you I’d go to the grocery store yet you did it by yourself" she stated.

"But you were at training and I had nothing to do" you grumbled, crossing your arms as you glared at her.

"you’re not supposed to carry heavy things" she smiled down at you, so much adoration in her eyes. She looked at you like you hung the moon.

Every day, she thanked the universe that she could call you her own.

"Baby!" you whined, "I can still do things in the household"

With her finger on your lips, she shushed you, "Firstly, you carry our baby, so don’t carry heavy stuff. And secondly, you help enough already by motivating me with your existence" she grinned, littering kisses all over your face, to which you responded with her favorite sound: giggles.

-

"Hello, here is your mama" the defender mumbled against your tummy, her thumbs drawing circles at your sides, "I love you very very much. And your mommy, I love her very much too" Esme looked at you, loving eyes already staring back at her. Your heart fluttered at each of her words, your skin tingled at each touch and your mind was consumed by the thoughts of Esme interacting with your baby. She’ll be a great mama. "I‘ll raise you as the biggest City fan. You will walk around with a little jersey and then you‘ll meet your aunties." the city player stated.

The answer came straightaway - a kick.

The blonde gasped loudly, sitting up, "That was an agreement!"

"No it wasn’t" you laughed, "he‘s going to be raised as a gunner"

Esme left your touch, immediately, her expression unreadable. You never saw that kind of a look in her eyes. She seemed shocked, happy, confused and- you couldn‘t tell. Did you say something wrong?

"It‘s going to be a boy?" she breathed out.

Shit! You didn‘t mean to ruin the surprise of the gender.

"Esme- I’m so sorry!" you tried explaining, your hands grabbing her own as you were about to cry, too many emotions filling your body.

"Hey, don’t cry. My love, don‘t cry" she was by your side in an instant, her arms around your body as you cried in her chest. The defender whispered sweet nothings into your ear while she tracing patterns on your skin, in a manner of calming you down.

As your tears stopped rolling you down your cheeks, you looked up, the lioness smiling at you with her own tears in the corner of her eyes, "it‘s going to be a boy."

nothing but pride shone through her eyes as her smile showed her happiness.

-

"What if he doesn‘t want to be a sky blue?" Esme asked as the two of you laid on the couch, the tall girl absentmindedly playing with your hair. "What if he wants to be a red devil? That would be the worst" she grumbled, continuing to ramble about the choice of club.

Chuckling into her chest, you couldn‘t help but admire her, she often told you about the things she wanted to show your baby boy and let you feel like the prettiest person alive by just looking about you. It was amusing that she was seriously concerned which club your little man would support. "You know I think red is the better colour"

"I know" the blonde groaned, hiding her face, "you‘re lucky I love you"

"I love you too"

Pulling her in for a sweet kiss, she smiled against your lips. Gently, her hand slipped under your shirt, fingertips dancing across your spine as you melted with one another. Kissing Esme will always be one of your favorite things to do.

"I love our boy even if he doesn‘t support City"

-

It was the 28th March when the two of you finally met your baby boy.

-

"Are you my favorite boy, yes you are" Esme smiled, your son in her arms as he looked at her with wide eyes, somehow a smile plastered on his face.

-

Esme loved being a mum, the same as you did. It fulfilled her heart with so much pride, love and passion.

"Look at your mommy, she‘s the most amazing person in the world" she held the boy who was looking everywhere but at your sleeping figure on the couch.

"I love her very much" she continued, "and she makes me so happy."

"I met her when I was 14, that‘s a little bit older than you are at the moment, my boy and I immediately fell in love with her"

-

"I‘m so sorry" a young Esme apologized over and over after she had bumped into you, your books and notes falling out of your hands. In a matter of seconds she was squatted down, picking up your stuff while you joined her, "i didn’t see you" she muttered, desperately trying to pick up each pen.

"It‘s okay"

As she went to grab the last pen, your mind had the same thought. Your hands touched for a brief of a second, the blonde looking up, her breath caught in her throat, "now, i see you" and you were absolutely breathtaking. Esme had never seen someone as pretty as you.

-

"9 years later, i still think the same. Your mommy is breathtaking" she smiled fondly as your son looked at Esme with big eyes.

"I asked her to be my girlfriend through a love letter. She made me felt like a poet, lovely words ran through my mind, your mommy running through my mind all day long, even at night."

-

The sun was setting, the sky beautiful with it colours as the two of you walked through the streets. Esme, the sweetheart she was, not accepting "I can walk home on my own, I’m old enough"

She walked beside you, your hands softly brushing against one another’s. You wanted to hold hers but you were too shy to take matters into your own hands, so you accepted the touch of brush.

Esme didn’t.

After the third brush, she just slipped her hand in yours, your heart racing at her gentle touch. "Is that okay?" she asked, not looking at you.

"Yes" you replied.

So while one of her hands held yours, the other one was hidden in her jacket, the love letter between her fingertips.

"Thank you for walking me home" you smiled, your hand not leaving hers, not yet.

"Always"

You looked at each other, soft smiles displayed on your faces, "um, this is for you" shyly and with red cheeks she pulled out the envelope, your name written in cursive on it.

You were about to open it as she stopped you, "don‘t. not now"

She looked vulnerable - you respected her wishes.

-

"I still remember what i wrote in that letter"

-

'My y/n,

As i sit down to write this letter, my heart, my body and mind is bursting with emotions.

Forgive me, if some sentences don’t make any sense - my mind is spinning, consumed by the thought of you.

I love the way you laugh, the sound of your giggles music to my ears.

I love the way you smile, how it reaches the corner of your eyes.

I love the way you talk, your voice expressive and gentle.

I wake up with the intention to make you smile and laugh.

I go to be with the hope that you follow me into my dreams - you do.

I dream about you at night, at day and about the future, our future.

The moment i laid my eyes on you, i knew that my heart would be yours - forever.

I respect you.

You make me feel happy, dizzy and relaxed - i feel safe with you.

Yet words will never be enough to describe the things you let me feel.

You are special.

I want you to be my girlfriend, so I’m asking you: do you love me the same way i love you?

-Esme:)‘

-

"Your mama was very romantic" the blonde chuckled, her index finger softly caressing along the boys cheek as his eyes fell shut every now and then. It didn‘t stop the City player - she continued talking.

She continued with the story, how she asked you to marry her and talked about your reaction, how she asked every important person in your life for their blessing, something you appreciated so much.

"One day, someone will love you the way i love your mommy" she whispered, your son fast asleep in her arms.

Pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, she laid him in his crib, admiring as her heart swelled with love. What she failed to realize was that you weren‘t sleeping anymore - that you were wide awake, listening to the things she told your baby boy.

Gently, you snuggled her arms around her waist, the girl frightened for a moment before she realized it was you. Her favorite girl on earth.

"You‘re still a hopeless romantic"

She turned in your hold, her own arms wrapping around your waist as yours changed their position.

"What else did you hear?" the defender asked, cheeks crimson red - you made her mind spin, knees weak and heart race, she felt shy and nervous. Even after years, you still had the same effect on her.

"Everything"

-

"Do you want to surprise your mama?" you asked the boy who babbled about something, happily accepting the fact that he was in your arms, small hands gripping your shirt.

Esme was at training, the boy and you at home while you got your son ready for her surprise. Yesterday, the surprise finally arrived and you couldn‘t be more excited to see her reaction. You bought a mini city jersey, the name Morgan displayed on the back with her number 14.

Your son looked absolutely adorable.

Excited, you waited patiently for her to return, occupying the boy with some simple things.

"My love, I’m home" she called after what felt like an eternity, "wow" she stopped in her tracks, the sky blue catching her eyes immediately. "What‘s this?" she asked confused.

"What does it look like?" you hand her the boy who clapped his hand as she eyed his outfit. Esme’s heart made jumps as she saw her baby boy with her jersey, "you‘re such a cute little boy" the mama stated happily as she caressed his cheeks.

"Where‘s yours, my love?" she asked, eyes on you as she took a step towards you to peck your lips.

"In the drawer" you looked at her, raising a brow, "do you want me to put it on?"

Enthusiastically she nodded, "pretty please"

5 minutes later, you walked in the living room your two favorite people seated on the couch. As soon as you entered the room, Esme’s eyes lit up, "you look beautiful" she breathed, the sky blue making her happy as the jersey hugged your body perfectly. You took a seat beside her, your head falling against her shoulder while one of her arms made its way around your waist. Your son was already asleep in her touch, the boy never one to stay awake for long if his mama held him.

"I know you‘re a gunner, my love, but seeing you in this shirt makes me so incredibly happy" she mumbled, "and our little boy also wearing one, I can‘t describe the things i‘m feeling."

"Even though I prefer red over blue, sky blue will always be my favorite" you smiled, leaning up to kiss her, softly.

Wrapped up in your own little lovely bubble, it caught you by surprise when your son‘s first left his mouth.

"mama"

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