#that’s me curled up in my armchair lol

[prettiestlovergirl]

DON'T STOP

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; semi-public; teasing; oral (f. receiving); light dacryphilia; established relationship; mean! mattheo; hickeys; pushing the french-speaking-mattheo agenda, but be warned my french is shit, they don't exactly teach you pet names in high school french class lol.

concept: you n mattheo are studying in the common room when he gets bored and comes up with a more interesting way to study.

a/n: this idea came to me when i was studying for my lab exam and thinking 'wow, this would be so much more fun with a mean curly haired man absolutely wrecking me' n so, here you go! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

you had been studying in the common room for what felt like hours now, really cramming for this godawful history of magic test. you were stressed out of your mind, but you couldn't risk missing a thing.

you were sitting up on the couch well into the night, your legs curled up underneath you as you continued to take notes in the silence, occasionally making a comment to yourself out loud while you worked.

you'd been so in the zone; you hadn't even noticed the second body entering into the room until you heard that familiar, deep voice in your ear.

"princesse, mon amour, (princess, my love,) what are you still doing up?" he asked, his voice a bit husky from sleep. you'd have been a bit turned on if you hadn't been so startled.

"bloody hell! you can't just sneak up on a girl like that." you hissed, setting your textbook down onto your lap while he chuckled at your startled reaction, waiting for you to go on.

"i'm still up because i have to study for this bloody test." you huffed, following him with your eyes as he walked around the couch, giving you the wonderful and incredibly distracting view of your boyfriend in those damned gray sweatpants.

"let me help." mattheo hummed, a wicked smirk growing on his face as he got himself situated on his knees in front of you. "need to get some studying in anyways." he stated, his hand gripping your ankle and tugging your forward.

"no, mattheo, stop. really, i need to study!" you whined, biting your lip as he tugged your legs out from under you. "we are gonna study, i'm just an active learner." he smirked, pressing a kiss to your ankle. "read the textbook out loud."

"mattheo..." you complained, huffing a bit as his started to kiss his way slowly up your leg. you shivered lightly, the view of him on his knees in front of you never failed to make your brain go a little fuzzy.

"c'mon princesse, (princess) need you to help me study. you don't want me to fail, do you?" he asked, giving you a fake pout as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts.

finally, you relented, just like he knew you would, and lifted your hips up for him. "bien, mon âme." (good, my soul) he smirked, sliding the fabric down your thighs and tossing it off to the armchair behind him.

if there was one thing mattheo loved, it was getting you to break so he could bury himself between your thighs. if you'd let him, he'd probably stay there forever, living in permanent pussy drunk bliss.

"start reading, princesse. (princess) thought you said you really had to study." he hummed, teasing you with his words and his fingers as he started to rub soft circles on your increasingly dampening panties.

it was sososo hard to focus with his hand on your clothed pussy, but still, you did as told and picked the textbook back up, starting to read aloud from where you left off.

you did your best to speak as clearly as possible, but it was almost impossible when his fingers pressed harshly against your covered clit.

he started rubbing the fabric into your skin, getting your panties soaked in your own arousal as your grip on the book tightened. "f-fuck!" you gasped.

"mm, don't recall fuck being in this history book, weird." he murmured, his lips pressing warm kisses along your thighs, lazily marking you all over as you let out an indignant little whine.

you glared down at him, but went back to reading aloud, doing your best to keep going through your uneven breaths. once he was perfectly satisfied with the number of marks on your thighs, he used his thumb to pull your panties to the side.

he groaned softly to himself, his tongue running along his lower lip as he admired your glistening pussy. you squirmed a bit, the cool air hitting your warm core making you stutter a bit as you went on.

"i-in the en-end, he was, uhm, unable to come out v-victorious" you stated, your voice breathy before your pretty lashes fluttered shut when his free thumb made contact with your bare clit.

"ah, ah, ah." he chided, pausing his actions but keeping his thumb pressed against the swollen nub. "can't touch you if you aren't reading, princesse. (princess) how are you gonna learn if your eyes are closed?"

"so mean..." you grumbled before letting out a gasp as he shoved two of his fingers into your pussy quickly, your eyes immediately opening again. "'m sorry, what was that?" he asked, curling his fingers up inside of you

"n-nothing! nothing, 'm sorry, nothing!" you moaned, his fingers immediately getting drenched in your arousal. "that's what i thought." he smirked, waiting for you to start reading again before thrusting them in and out.

"he had to... to f-flee━ oh fuck ━ civilization." you stuttered, your brain getting hazy again as he attached his lips to your puffy clit, happily gliding his tongue over it again and again. "from th- there, he h-had to be-become a stowaway."

he fucking loved how hard you were working, seeing how much effort it took you to get each word out only seemed to spur him on, making him speed up his fingers n suck a bit harder. "need you to speak up, princesse. (princess) really want to make sure i understand everything."

you let out a louder whine, sticking your lips out in a pout as you shook your head, your eyelids getting heavy n your breath getting all shallow. "fuck, fuck, fuck, i can't, please, i can't!" you whimpered, batting your lashes rapidly to blink away the budding tears.

mattheo let go of your clit with a wet pop, looking up at you intently while he curled his fingers up a second time. "aw look at you 'bout to cry." he mocked in faux sympathy as you looked down at him "you can and you will." he stated.

a sob finally broke past your lips as his tongue found its way back to your clit, your hips bucking and your hands tightening around the textbook.

your vision blurred, but you did your best to keep reading, your body slumped against the cushions as his tongue and fingers worked in sync to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

mattheo honestly could have stayed here forever, just devouring your messy cunt as you soaked his chin and fingers in your arousal. he lived for the way you whined and sobbed above him, loving your broken sentences.

this went on and on until finally you finished the chapter, another sob of relief escaping you as your back arched. "fuck, please, please mattheo i need to cum so fucking bad, please!" you begged, eyes squeezing shut.

"did so good f'me, princesse. (princess) so good, cum f'me." he hummed, sending vibrations onto your clit that finally pushed you over the edge, your cunt fluttering around his fingers while your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

your juices soaked him completely as he continued to suck your clit, going until you started to whine and beg him to stop, trying to squirm away from his eager lips.

"jesus..." you panted, placing a hand over your chest to feel your racing heart as you came down from your high.

"mon amour, (my love) jesus had nothing to do with your cum on my lips. credit's all mine." mattheo chuckled, that same devilish smirk on his lips.

"now, i think we should go over it one more time. just to make sure you've really got it memorized..."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

tags: @bratetteprincess , (gasp, dove reveal??? so soon??)

#☆lola writes ! #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin #slytherin boys #smut #harry potter

[doki-doki-imagines]

They compliment you feat. mk1 bi-han, kitana, kung lao

author note: felt like I was going to explode if I didn't post them today, I hope it's not complete trash LOL.

Bi-Han: -It was a quiet morning, for once you were the first to wake up, so you started cooking for the both of you. -Then you felt the arms of your lover wrapping around your waist, always so chilly against your body. -You feel his right cheekbone brush against yours, like a kitty searching for affection, then his chin rests on your shoulder, you can feel his black eyes on you. "Dawn creates light and shades on your face, making your feature stand out even more, I didn't think it was possible to make you look even more beautiful." -You choke on your own spit, stunned by the honeyed words dripping from your partner lips. -What was happening? Did Bi-Han hit his head during sparring? In any case, there's no way you'll stop him. -Kettle whistle, but you don't move, still looking at Bi-Han with wide eyes. -He sighs, kisses your cheek, and takes the kettle, pouring the boiling water into his cup, where you previously put the tea bag. -"Moron, if this is your reaction, I'll have to filter my thoughts again." -You shook your head, hell, you don't think you'll ever be able to go back now, his sweet words a drug that got you immediately addicted. Sadly, you aren't used to compliments anymore; you can just stutter out a no, while you feel heath on your cheeks. -Bi-Han smirks at you, a playful gesture you rarely see (and you are still thanking the gods that blessed you this morning) his right hand reaching for the apple of your cheek, pulling it in between his index and middle fingers before snapping it back in place. -"Sit down, I'll make you coffee maybe it will wake you up." -You aren't sure if you want to wake up.

Kitana: -You are waiting for her to return from work, your stomach churning always worried something bad may have happened. -You are reading a novel when you feel the door of the living room opening. You lift your head up, eager to see your lover come in. -And she does, a ray of sunshine deep into the night. -Kitana walks to you, a tired smile on her face, 'till she reaches you behind the armchair you are sitting on. -"Good night beautiful, first time here?" You say, chuckling at your own silliness. -Kitana chuckles along, the kind that shows the wonderful smile that always makes you understand how lucky you are. -"Since you leave me breathless every time I look at you-" Her face lean closer to yours "maybe it is" her plush lips kiss your forehead before she leaves to change in more comfortable clothing. -You curl on yourself, face hidden inside your book, and you are pretty sure your head is fuming for how fast the gears in your brain are working. -"Don't curl up, dear! You know it's bad for your back" Kitana shouts from your shared bedroom "I don't want my princess to get back pain" she whispers the last part. -Maybe one day she will get bold enough to freely speak her mind, for now you'll have to cheerish this rare moment of softness.

Kung Lao: -You tried a new recipe today, made with the fresh vegetables Kung Lao and Raiden picked up at dawn. -Saying you were nervous is a euphemism. You didn't want to fail, but even more to thrash the food your friend and boyfriend grew and picked up after so much effort. -You put the food on the table, useless to say to start the meal, Kung Lao cheeks were already full, and Raiden followed soon. -The judgment arrived soon, the burp coming from your partner mouth a telltale sign and a bad habit you still weren't able to correct. -"My love, the food was amazing, delicious!" Kung Lao stands up, arms open ready to embrace your body "Not that I have any doubts, your cooking skill just another plus of my wonderful-" He kisses your nose "amazing-" his lips touch your left cheek "beautiful dove" his lips finally rest on yours. -You reciprocate the kiss, but your mind is elsewhere, so used to Kung Lao singing his own praises without sparing a nice word to anybody else, you didn't expect so many compliments. -You break the kiss when you hear Raiden coughing in the background, heath flooding your face while your boyfriend was totally unaffected, still looking at you with that softness he always reserves for you. -Kung Lao soon returns at the table to finish the meal together with Raiden, and then they both go back to train. -But not before smooching your cheek, lips staining your skin with, what you guessed was the juice of the peach Kung Lao eat before going back to work. -You clean yourself with the back of your hand before going back to work, the comoliments of your boyfriend still reverberating into your brain, a nice intrusive thought that won't leave you for the rest of the day.

#mk1 x reader #mk1 x you #mk1 imagine #kitana x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #kung lao x reader #bi-han x you #kung lao x you #i choose characters that I don't think give out compliment easily #not to be not safe for work but probably bi-han is like that only when his balls are empty LMAO #Kitana just needs to develop how to express her feelings without thinking she is weak #Kung Lao just needs to stop thinking about himself all day (hard I know) #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 headcanons

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 3

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: We're finally heading into the main plot I think lol. Hope y'all like this one, let me know. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

"Casey!" You called, hurriedly walking between the rows of files while looking down at the paperwork in your hands. TVA's library was either your favorite place or the place you hated the most. No in-between. It was your favorite when you stopped by to lounge in the armchairs and read your books in the calming silence. But when you had to traverse between the cramped shelves in search of files, that's when you hated it.

"Casey?" You called again, still turning the pages with a frown on your face.

"Yeah, what's up?"

The sudden voice caught your attention and you raised your head just in time to not walk straight into your friend. You chuckled to yourself, coming to stand beside him in the small space between the tall shelves. "I was going through this report and it mentions a code 581, I've never heard that one before." With your finger, you pointed to the underlined letters on the report.

"Oh, that's a fun one," Casey smiled, taking the papers from your hands, "it's kind of a rare case actually, it's when two variants appear simultaneously…"

While you spoke with Casey, all the way on the other side of TVA's weirdly shaped building, and one floor above, stood Mobius with Loki by his side; both of them leaning on the railings and observing you from afar.

"How long did you say she's been here?" Loki asked, his eyes never leaving your form. His face had a complicated expression, almost as if he was still figuring out how to feel about actually seeing you, the same girl from the life he was supposed to have.

"I didn't, I said that time passes differently here in the TVA," Mobius spoke beside him, his eyes slowly shifting between you and Loki. "But, if I had to guess I'd say the equivalent of around two years."

It's been a couple of weeks since Loki arrived, and in his time here he's been quite helpful for the TVA; not enough to catch the rogue variant, but enough to earn his end of the bargain.

"Is it a habit of yours to keep variants around then?" Loki turned to Mobius with a raised brow.

"Not at all," Mobius chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You two are the only ones so far, and you can thank me for that, by the way."

Loki pursed his lips as he shifted his gaze back to you. He watched as you spoke with Casey, huge smile on your lips as you gestured around saying something he couldn't understand. "Why keep her?" He asked quietly.

Mobius sighed, following the path of Loki's gaze toward you. "Same reason as you, pretty much. She was very... familiar with the Loki from her timeline and I figured she could be of help to us. At first, she was a very tough nut to crack, but it was either that or be pruned so eventually, she agreed, and has helped capture many Loki variants in her time here."

A scoff went past Loki's lips. His hands gripped the railings tighter, heartbeat quickening with each passing second that brought him closer to meeting you. Why he felt this way, he couldn't tell; it was as if his body knew something he didn't. "And, by her timeline, you mean my timeline as well?"

"Technically, yes."

─── ·❆· ───

"Thank you, Casey, I'll see you at lunch," you gave your friend a small wave as you turned to go in opposite directions. The ghost of a smile lingered on your lips as you closed the file's folder, but it faded immediately as soon as you looked up.

Mobius stood in front of you, he said your name but it sounded like a whisper drowned underwater to your ears, for you were focused on the person a few steps behind him. He had the same raven black curls, the same sharp nose, fair skin, and bright eyes; his features being highlighted by the artificial lights from TVA's infinite floors. He was a ghost. The one from your worst nightmares and most beautiful dreams. A ghost of your past life, one that instantly got your heartbeat skyrocketing and closed up your throat until you couldn't breathe, or talk, or even think.

You were nearly making holes into the file in your hands with the force you held it with, knuckles going white.

Taking a step closer, Mobius called your name again. He tried reaching out towards you but you took a sharp step back. "There's someone who would like to meet you," he settled for saying, calmly, gesturing behind him.

Forming words became a struggle for you. Your lips parted only to tremble with no sound coming from your mouth. Inhaling sharply, you straightened your posture. "No." You said with finality, your eyes not leaving the ones that reminded you of your Loki.

A frown appeared on his features and he looked like he was about to speak, but you beat him to it, finally looking at Mobius; "You. Me. Storage room, now."

With that, you turned around and took urgent steps to the back of the library, shoving open the door that led to a small storage room for older files no one needed anymore. You turned the switch for the single orange light hanging from the ceiling and then clawed at your scalp, trying your best to regulate your breathing.

Mobius walked in, closing the door behind him. "Listen I can-"

"Explain?" You finished for him, urgency and anger dripping from each syllable, "yeah, you better. What was that? Who is he?"

"We were about to get to that before you stormed off." Mobius shrugged.

"Cut the bullshit, Mobius," you sighed, hands coming to rest on your waist.

"He's a Loki, you've met a hundred of them already."

You bit your lip to hold back the tears stinging behind your eyes. "Yeah, I have, and none of them were-" you hesitated, "None of them looked like-" You swore under your breath when your voice betrayed you.

"Your Loki?"

Mobius' quiet words got you closing your eyes, there was compassion in his voice, being one of the only people here who really knew what you've been through. A long sigh escaped your lips, along with some of the anger, leaving room only for the emptiness that has been following you around for years now.

"Is he?" You were afraid to know, but you asked anyway.

"He was going to be," Mobius took a step closer to you, and this time you allowed him to rest a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress shirt. "He came from your timeline, roughly after his attempt at taking over earth."

An unamused chuckle escaped your lips and a single tear ran down your cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away. "Jesus, Mobius. You can't be serious." You looked him straight in the eyes then, voice strained; "you can't be doing this to me."

"He insisted," Mobius raised both hands in front of his chest in a halfhearted attempt to calm you down. "He insisted, okay? He saw you in his file, he wanted to know who you were. What was I supposed to do? He saw you and didn't know who you were but it was clear that you were important, and he felt that too."

A beat of silence passed, and then; "I mean," Mobius chuckled softly, shaking his head; "you should have seen his eyes when he saw you, he looked worse than you do now."

You sniffled, avoiding your teary eyes from his gaze. "What were you supposed to do? Well, what about talking to me first, you oaf," you told him, though there was no malice in your words.

"I'm sorry," Mobius shrugged, not sure of what else he could say to you. "I just figured it wouldn't be fair to either of you if I didn't introduce you. Or, reintroduced you."

You doubted you'd be able to form a coherent thought in your mind right now with the amount of emotions you were going through. But you knew he was right, deep down you did. You just weren't sure what to make of it yet, seeing a Loki who would eventually become your Loki; who, essentially, was your Loki. Just not yet.

It nearly sent you into a panic attack. Seeing him again was all you ever wanted when you lost him, yet now that it's happening, you're not sure if you can handle it. Or if you still want it.

Mobius tried to find your gaze with his, and as if reading your mind, he said; "Isn't this what you wanted when you first got here? To see him again?"

"That's not me anymore, Mobius," you spoke before you could stop yourself. "I'm- I'm not that person anymore." Your voice was quiet, muffled behind the walls you'd built around your wounded heart. "Besides, that's-" You stumbled over your words, tasting your tears on the corner of your lips, "that's not him. That's not the Loki I knew."

"How can you say that, you didn't even speak to the guy," Mobius gestured to Loki's general direction outside of the storage room.

"Yeah well, I don't have to!" You snapped, and closed your mouth soon after, mumbling an apology. "I just- He's not him," you said quieter, almost as if saying it again and again would make it true.

"Maybe not yet," Mobius reasoned, pursing his lips as he mulled over unsaid words; "But he is, otherwise he wouldn't have seen his future with you. You know that."

You buried your hands in the pockets of your pants because you could feel how heavily they were shaking. You bit your lip until you tasted blood. "I can't. I'm sorry, Mobius, but I can't. You tell him I want nothing to do with him." The words rolled off your tongue quickly and strained, you didn't give Mobius time to answer you before you were shoving open the door of the storage room and rushing outside.

From the side of your eyes, as you walked, you noticed Loki leaning against one of the file shelves. He perked up when he saw you, straightening his posture and softening his gaze as he took half a step towards you.

You didn't spare him a second glance before turning your back to him and hurrying to the opposite way.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 4 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @lokihaha34 @levanneisdumb @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage @princess-ofthe-pages @daisy-the-quake @talesofadragon @rainbowsocks @alexandra-001 @mary-jinx @stevenknightmarc @falconxsoldier @ladymercury8 @shirukitsune @ladymischief11 @starkzdaughter

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

[matchavellichor]

okay huge fan of your dark!seb but hear me out…… dark!ominis

A.N: I absolutely adore dark!ominis omfg—I have like five diff dark omi drabbles in my google docs that i've abandoned bc i feel like no matter how i write it, it seems too out of character for him, then i end up hating it LOL. This isn't as bad as my dark!seb but here's Ominis doing some.....uhhhh questionable things to MC under Imperius.

Just This Once

dark!Ominis x f!MC - NSFW/Angst - 3.1k words - ao3

Tags: !!Non-Con!!, Pining, Obsession, Inappropriate Use of Imperius, Unconsensual Kissing/Touching, Masturbation, Omi Being a Lil Pervball

Summary: Ominis' infatuation leads him to break some of the principles he's held dear to him for the better part of his life.

Part 2, Part 3 (づ￣ ³￣)づ

The fireplace in the Slytherin common room has long gone out for the night, only a few crackling embers to fill the silence. Moonlight seeps in from the windows, through the murky waters of the Black Lake, casting the room in a palid, green hue. 

Despite the hour, he knows he’ll find her there. 

He wonders if it’s one of the rare nights where she’s asleep by the time he arrives, curled into herself on one of the armchairs with her book forgotten on her lap. 

One of the rare evenings where he can afford himself a bit less self-control. Indulge in the silkiness of her skin, trace his fingers over her features until the point she inevitably stirs, and he’s forced to retract himself as if he’d never touched her. 

It doesn’t matter if it is. Tonight, he’ll touch her the way he wants to, either way.

His skin prickles with warring emotions as he makes his way soundlessly down the steps of the dormitories. Shame, guilt, disgust—overwhelming anticipation.

The dizzying feeling of want overshadows them all.

An ugly, marred tug of obsession claws its way under his skin like a parasite. He can’t escape it, can’t make it stop—hasn't been able to for a while now.

He’s grown accustomed to it. Grown used to the way his nerves burn when he touches her, the way his lungs scream for oxygen when he catches her scent.

He always wants, yet he never gets, and he’s so, so tired of wanting.

Just this once. 

The reminder eases through him like a breeze, quelling the incessant pounding of his heart in his ears, the thin sheen of sweat settling itself over his skin.

His hand trembles when it dips into the pocket of his robes as he approaches the familiar set of lounges in front of the fireplace. He feels for his wand and tightens his hand around it, the wood biting into his skin, a sensation almost comforting in nature.

Just this once.

“Was wondering when you’d show,” her voice is warm and sleep-rough, a hazy melody that proves just as useful in easing his nerves. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, weighted with attrition for something he has yet to do.

She waits for him to sit down beside her, but instead he stays in place, hovering over the side of the couch.

He clears his throat, nerves stiffening his voice. “Do you think we could read in the Undercroft tonight?”

She looks at him perplexed, until her lips curl into a smile.

“Since when did you become such a rule breaker? Sebastian finally rubbing off on you?” She humors, stretching her sore limbs.

“I’d just prefer it. Change of…scenery.”

She snorts. “Change of scenery, huh?”

He nods sheepishly, cheeks burning. Change of scenery? Really, Ominis?

He can feel her staring at him, contemplating. He’s half-convinced she can hear the way his heart is nearly beating out of his chest.

“Please,” he adds for good measure.

His fingers find his wand again, tucked surreptitiously behind layers of fabric. He supposes he could cast it here, even if that isn’t part of the plan. The thought makes anxiety trickle up his skin. He doesn’t want to stray from the plan.

When she rises from her seat with an acquiescent sigh, his entire body sinks with relief.

“Alright, fine, let’s go…but we’ll have to be quiet.” 

The walk to the Undercroft is spent in the silence of disillusionment spells and muffling charms. Inside the darkened cellar, with only the soft sound of her humming as she settles onto one of the old chaises, a flurry of second-thoughts numb his brain in white static. 

Disgust settles itself like a boulder in his gut, the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat as he takes a seat beside her, as he considers over and over again what he’s about to do. 

He can feel her thigh press against his when she shifts in her seat. It’s strangely grounding. He feels the taste rescind.

She’s so incredibly warm, so terribly close, that it buries any trepidations he holds deep into an untouchable part of himself, until he can think of nothing but the prospect of more of her skin on his, until desire overshadows any inkling of guilt he might possess.

The urge to touch, and taste, and caress, subjugates the contrite voice in his head that repeats a litany of you promised, you promised, you promised.

His nausea blends into something else as he quietly slips his wand from his pocket, and any vows he’s made to himself about never doing what he’s about to do, dissolves into inexistence as the spell passes through his lips in a whisper.

“Imperio.” 

The incantation takes effect with such fluidity, with such little effort, that in that moment, despite all his years of fervent resistance, he has never felt more like a Gaunt.

He resists the urge to double over and be sick on the flagstone floor. 

He can barely hear the sound of the book in her hands falling to the floor, nor his own wand slipping from his fingers with a dull clatter. The ringing in his ears is far too loud to allow it.

His core buzzes with the thrum of dark magic that washes over him, a mordant reminder of what exactly he’s done, one that he can feel impress itself on his very soul. He takes a fortifying breath.

Just this once.

“Turn to me.” 

The command works over her immediately, and though he can’t see her, he can hear her shift in her seat to face him. He’s never been more grateful for his blindness than in that moment, that he can’t see the glazed-over appearance of her eyes, her vacant stare. He’s certain it would break him.

He shifts forward himself, and when he touches her for the first time with trembling hands, the incessant ringing in his ears ceases. The drove of self-reprehension comes to a halt, replaced by something starved, replaced by the instinct to take.

He drags his fingers unsteadily over the ridge of her cheekbone, traces the contours of her brows, down the bridge of her nose, the same way he’s done before only briefly in her sleep, though this time with more unabashed exploration.

The thrill of not having to be careful awakens something in him. He wants to commit every millimeter to memory.

His thumb brushes over the gentle arch of her cupid’s bow, then over the plush pillow that is her bottom lip. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath until his lungs burn for oxygen. His hand takes hold of her jaw and he dips forward, so that his first inhale is made up of nothing but her, his nose pressed to the soft hair at her temple. 

He tilts his head and lets his lips land on the smooth plane of her cheek. Her skin is warm and silky, just as he remembered from the brief bits of contact he’s allowed himself in the past. He lets out a contented sigh. 

Slowly, patiently, he works himself up to his destination, planting tender kisses along her face, reveling in every little sensation, until he reaches the corner of her mouth.

Her mouth.

He’s almost convinced he’s dreaming. 

He takes a shuddering breath and connects their lips the way he’s wanted to for an agonizingly long time.

If he’s ever known softness before, it’s incomparable to what he receives from her lips, from her face cupped in his hands.

He’s filled with the insatiable desire to know more, to drown in it, to suffocate on the feeling of her against him. 

His tongue brushes over her bottom lip, tentative and a bit too cautious. He’s not exactly sure how to kiss her, but he notes rather morbidly that she won’t mind either way. It’s not like she’ll remember.

He tries again, experimenting, prodding at her lips softly at first, but she doesn’t part for him the way he expects her to, doesn’t grant him entrance. It’s… not right.

His brain blares with alarms in deafening repetition that it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong.

She’s stiff against his lips, frigid and unmoving. It’s not how it should be. It’s not how he wants it to be. It’s askew and breaks him out of his fantasy and it makes him angry. 

Makes his fingers dig too harshly into her skin, makes him crowd her against the armrest of the lounge and press his mouth to her more forcefully, as if he can brutalize the compliance out of her. 

A whimper escapes her, a brief breach in her trance-like state, and he’s snapped out of his overwhelming frustration. He breaks the kiss and pants against her skin, the reminder of the power he has over her surging back. 

“Kiss me.”

Relief oozes into him like the trickle of a downpouring stream, cooling his blood and letting him melt into the feeling of her lips finally moving against his. His touch retreats back to tenderness. 

There’s a clumsy sort of uncertainty in the way his mouth moves against hers, an unpracticed mess of tongue and teeth. He doesn’t mind, doesn’t let himself dwell on the chagrin that is his first kiss.

It’s all he’s ever wanted with her. She tastes sweet on his tongue, the culmination of all his desires being fulfilled, and yet still, somehow, it’s not enough.

Even as he kisses her deeply, tenderly, until his lips feel raw and kiss-bruised, and there’s a delicious soreness in his jaw — he can’t shake that little, driving pain in his chest of want. 

No, not of want. Of need. 

There’s a part of him that he doesn’t quite understand, a part of him that aches for more without being conscious of just what more is. 

He’s aware of it, though. He feels it in the tension pulling just below his navel, the heat pooling in his blood. He recognizes it in the depraved instinct to slip his hands up her blouse, to hike up her skirt, and— and—

He contemplates straying from the plan for the second time that night.

All he wanted was to kiss her, just this once, just this once— but as he tips her back onto the cushions, as he hovers over her with his lips never leaving hers, he realizes that isn’t true.

He lets himself sink against her. Her body molds with his, presses against his own, plush and warm and indescribably perfect. He pins her down with his weight—even if he’s aware he doesn’t have to, he finds some sick sense of security in knowing she can’t escape.

He wants more.

He slots himself between her legs and tugs one of her thighs around his waist. It’s almost too much, his breathing scattered and uneven. 

He wants more.

Even if he isn’t sure what more entails, he possesses some idea as his hips begin to rut against hers of their own accord. The whimper he lets out makes him burn with shame.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck to hide his mortification. He inhales, until the dizzying scent of her perfume numbs his brain.

He’s subtly aware of the fact he’s grinding right against her knickers, her skirt bunched up haphazardly at her hips to accommodate him between her legs. He tries not to think about it.

His thoughts feel hazy as he contemplates the fact that only a thin piece of cotton separates her cunt from rubbing right against the front of his trousers. It would be so easy to—

He can’t.

He forces himself to keep his hands above her waist, far from temptation. He doesn’t force them not to wander, though.

Just this once, he repeats, as his fingers hover over the front placket of her blouse. He muffles his breathing with his lips pressed to her throat.

He trails his hand up to her collar and unclasps the first button with trembling fingers. He tries not to think about it, either.

He concentrates on how she tastes when he dips his tongue out to lick a stripe just under her jaw, and for a moment he doesn’t care how lewd it is, doesn’t care how utterly debased he’s acting.

Her breath hitches, just the subtlest change in pitch, but it’s enough for him to pretend that she wants this. That she wants him.

Little, brass buttons clatter to the stone floor of the Undercroft in quiet clinks, byproduct of his impatience, of his self-restraint slipping from his fingers in the hasty manner he undresses her. 

The same hasty manner he fumbles with his belt—before he can think too long about what he’s about to do—until he’s gripping his weeping cock and biting down on his lip to stop the shameful noises threatening to escape his throat.

He palms himself shakily, remorse adling his unsteady movements, while he tries to work the courage to actually touch her. It isn’t long before his hand is slick with his arousal, and the skin of her neck is damp with his heavy breathing.

His hand hovers over the bare skin of her midriff, fingers twitching with the desire to sink them into her soft flesh, to trace over her curves and memorize the contours he’s only felt in daydreams. 

His voice is raw when he commands her, riddled with shame. “Ask—ask me to touch you.”

She obeys in a whisper. “Please, touch me.” 

It’s wrong, it’s all wrong, it’s not—

“Ask me to touch you and say my name.” 

“Touch me,” she breathes, and he can feel the vibration of her voice where his mouth is still latched onto the base of her throat. “Please, Ominis.”

There.

His name on her lips strikes his nerves on fire, lights the very blood in his veins alight. He caves.

Her skin is warm under his fingertips. He can feel her heartbeat where he presses his palm to her sternum, a frantic pounding— undoubtedly a reflection of her subconscious beneath the influence of the spell.

He doesn’t allow himself to feel guilty, he can’t. Not now. 

Instead, he indulges. Pushes the sheer material of her chemise the rest of the way up, until it’s over her chest, and he can feel.

Her nipples pebble as they come in contact with the cool air of the Undercroft and he runs his hand over the stiffened bud, rolls it between his thumb and index. 

She’s overwhelmingly soft. It disgusts him how badly he wants to defile her for it. 

He notes wryly how revoltingly weak he is, if all it took was some poorly-placed obsession for him to do away with every last principle he’s spent the better part of his life cultivating. How easily an Unforgivable spilled from his lips at the prospect of feeling hers.

He’ll scrub his skin raw afterwards in the shower in a desperate attempt to forget all of this, he promises himself. He won’t do this again, he can’t—

Just this once.

His head sinks to her chest and he murmurs against her skin, “Again— Say, say it again.”

“Please, Ominis.”

He sighs in blissful relief. “Yes.”

He counts the rows of her sternum with a drag of his tongue. Her chest is already sticky with his saliva when he takes hold of his cock again, the dripping tip sullying her untouched skin.

His hips rut into his own hand and the Undercroft fills with the sounds of his quiet grunts. He squeezes his eyes shut and imagines it’s her he’s thrusting into as he fucks his fist, his other hand groping blindly, fondling and squeezing her supple flesh until he’s sure he’s left marks in his carelessness.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, because he likes to pretend it’s real. “So–so good, angel.”

She lets out the softest whimper, and it’s enough to make his jaw fall slack, a pleasured groan escaping his parted lips. 

He presses his forehead to hers. “I love you. I love you so much. Tell me— tell me you love me. Please say it.”

“I love you.” 

She obeys too fast, her voice too vacant. It’s unnatural. He doesn’t care. Those three little words are enough to wrench a strangled sort of sound out of his chest.

“Again,” he begs, voice hoarse, and he’s only distantly aware of the wet tracks running down his cheeks. His thrusts are sloppy and frantic, so close to his undoing. “Say my name.” 

“I love you, Ominis.”

“Fuck,” his voice cracks, his head dropping to her shoulder.

He’s pushed over the edge with a sob, painting her stomach and chest in ribbons of milky white. An endless litany of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry pours from his lips as he shudders through his climax.

Shame sears through him like fiendfyre and he moans his forgiveness on a cry against her lips, kisses her tenderly as if it’s an act of retribution.

His hand finds her stomach, his palm rubbing into the incriminating mess of his seed on her skin, and the satisfaction he feels with it only serves to amplify his self-disgust. 

He kneads the sticky flesh beneath his fingertips, as if he can make it so that even after the scourgify, some part of him will be there, a memory only he’s aware of. He doesn’t want to let her go, he can’t— he—

He does so anyway. He forces himself off of her on unsteady legs and tucks himself into his trousers. 

He cleans her with all the care in the world, as if his tenderness will somehow make up for how crudely he’s violated her trust tonight.

Everytime his hand brushes over her skin as he redresses her, he repeats to himself that it was just this once. Brands it into his brain, lets that contrite voice repeat it over and over again until he might go mad. 

He takes her back to the common room and sets her down gently into that same armchair she was waiting for him in at the beginning of the night. Brushes a lingering kiss to her forehead that stretches for a moment too long.

He mutters a reluctant finite incantatem under his breath, pairs it with a heavy sleeping spell, and retreats to his own dorm before he can fall to temptation again. 

Only then, behind the drawn curtains of his four-poster, skin still prickling with the memory of every way he’d touched her, is he made certain of something he’s been trying desperately to deny all evening.

This was the first time, but it certainly won’t be the last.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt x mc #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #hogwarts legacy fan fiction

[heartofwritiing]

jack russell unable to control himself from smelling you

idc how or why just pls make it happen

Your scent

paring: Jack Russell x fem!reader

a/n: So many jack requests! im so happy you all want me to write for him! bare with me though i’m still trying to figure out how to write him since he’s kinda a new character and he only has so much screen time to go off of! also its crazy how we all collectively were like omg yes during that scene… buy me a coffee

warning(s): just short, jack being kinda cuddly, werewolf smelling lol, and fluffy!! unedited!

Jack had stoped in his tracks when his nose caught smell of something nearby. It was sweet and filled his lungs with a smoothness when he inhaled again.

It was coming from his bedroom. He wanders to the door and opens it to see you sitting on the armchair, curled up with a book as the rain falls down the window. He admires you for a moment, looking so comfortable and at peace in your own little world. Then he realizes the sweet smell is coming from over where you are.

Jack moves closer until he’s standing over you and you’re so caught up in your book that you’re startled when you feel his presence come up behind you. You look up at him frowning as he leans down to you.

“Jack?” you say.

When he reaches you close enough that his nose is touching the top of your head he inhales. You were used to this especially the days following his transformation. The wolf would still linger in his human form after a full moon phase, and sometimes it would show. Like you would catch little things he’d do; scratching behind his ears in a dog like manner, or in this case smelling you like a scratch n sniff and being a needy and cuddly. You thought it was cute.

He continues to sniff through your hair frantically so you say his name again.

“Did you change your shampoo?” he asks.

“Yes, why? do you not like it?” you shift in your seat to face him. If the smell bothered him too much due to his heightened senses or he didn’t like it because of the scent then you would have to find some other type. He immediately sensed your uneasiness.

“No, no, it’s lovely.” he expresses kneeling down to sit on his knees so he could meet your eye level. “I actually, really like it.” he confesses shyly.

You grin up at him the worry flowing away from you and giggle. Oh thank havens it doesn’t bother him. “you do?” He nods.

“It’s very nice, what is the scent I can’t quite place it.” He tilts his head to place a kiss on your forehead but not before smelling your hairline again. You giggle again at the absurdity of all this.

“It’s lavender,”

You feel his lips hum against your skin in delight. Your book is long forgotten as you let Jack pamper you with kisses. It was a little strange having your boyfriend smell you, but it made him happy and calmed his inner wolf so it didn’t matter to you.

“wait, there's something else,” he moves further down to your neck and moves your hair out of the way with a quick brush of his hand. His hot breath fans against the nape of your neck, and he inhales the fragrance there.

“Is it honey?”

“mhm, and oat.” you tell him.

“I apologize if this is strange mi querida…” he looks down awkwardly as he pulls back from your body. You knew Jack could be insecure about these things, after all it really wasn’t his fault. it was just his way of remembering you as well. You reach your hand up to cup his cheek and persuade him to look back at you.

“It isn’t strange, I wouldn’t be here If I couldn’t handle you smelling me.” you assure. as you speak your hand drifts behind his head to pet his hair in a comforting manner. He relaxes. “I know you can’t help the urges sometimes.”

He smiles at you affectionately and you can see his love for you in just a simple gaze and it makes your heart beat quicker.

“What did I do to deserve you my flor,”

Suddenly Jack is scooping you in his arms and carrying you bridle style all while you’re laughing. He lays you down into the covers on his bed and slides in next to you.

“My Flower?” you lift an eyebrow when you both settle into bed.

“It is fitting, no?” he pulls you closer to his chest. “because you’re like my own flower.” He sighs into your collarbone and you both lay there in bed enjoying each other’s presence.

tagglist: @redheadspark @a-lumos-in-the-nox @steve-harringtons-slut @charlie-heatons-whxre

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#jack russell x reader #jack russell x fem!reader #fanfiction #x reader #werewolf by night #werewolf by night x reader #werewolf by night fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #gael garcia bernal #gael garica bernal x reader #monster x reader #werewolf x reader #werewolf #spooky season fic

[sofasoap]

In your arms

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x F!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Comforting your husband after a nightmare.

Connecting to event of “Death, Comes easily” 

Warning: Mature theme. Nightmare discussion ( related to PTSD ), discussion of death. Angst.

A/N : This was an extension of ANOTHER drabble/comment I wrote a while ago thanks to my midnight muse @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world ( seriously please let me sleep LOL )

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic  “The Favorite MacTavish”” which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background

 “masterlist” for more prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded universe

You stare up at the ceiling. Eyes wide open. Fidgeting away. 

It’s three in the morning. But you are not sleepy at all. Even after a solid twelve hour afternoon shift. 

Oh, you should add more carrots into the twin’s lunch box….

You started making a mental listing of what you need to get from the grocery store tomorrow. Maybe that will tire your brain out and finally get some sleep. 

That wallpaper is peeling off slightly beside the window… need to get Simon to fix that.. 

Is Johnny and Emma coming over for lunch this Sunday?

Crap the electricity bill is due soon….

Ok, this isn’t working. Your mind is even more stimulated with all these questions and a list of chores in your head. 

Tucking yourself into the armchair beside the fireplace you just rekindled, armed with a generous mug of hot chocolate ( and maybe with a sneaky dash of whisky in it ) you set yourself about getting back into the historical romance novel you started a year ago but never had the time to finish. 

Turn to the left, fluffing up the pillow. Nope. Not helping either. You knew that extra cup of coffee after lunch wasn’t such a good idea.

Letting out a sigh, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get any sleep that night.

Swinging your leg over the side of the bed, you shuffle towards the lounge chair beside the window, grabbing the hand knit throw over blanket Gaz made for you last winter. Draping it over your shoulder, and quietly slipping out of the room, without waking Simon up, down towards the kitchen. 

The heavy footsteps become more frantic, and you hear room doors opening and closing, and the person in question is running down the staircase. 

Barely three pages in, you heard stomping noise coming from the bedroom upstairs.

You set the book down,looking up, frowning. Is one of the twins awake? But the noise sounds like it’s coming from your shared bedroom with your husband. 

The next second, you saw Simon, shoulders uptight, breathing erratically, with tears streaming down his face. As soon as he spotted you curling up in the armchair, his beautiful brown eyes widened. Mixture of panic and relief evident in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight. 

Simon calls out to you. Voice quivering, like a scared little child. 

Extending your hands, silently asking him what he needs.

He stares at you for the moment, before slowly moving towards you, kneeling down on both knees, enveloping his large, warm hand around yours.

“… Just want to feel you. Knowing you are here.” He whispered in a deep rumbling voice, tinged with sadness. “That you are real.” his voice broke into a sob. “ That you are alive.”

“ Oh love…” You immediately knew he had one of his nightmares again.  Flash back to the bombing incident. Death of his mother and brother’s family.

“I woke up, I couldn’t find you, you weren’t there in bed, I thought the worst…” grabbing onto your hands tighter as he poured out his fear, “I thought I failed you… Just like I failed my family… I got you killed.. And the twins.. The team…” He buried his face into your lap, trying hard to control his emotion.

It pains you to see him in such a vulnerable state. A side he never shows. Not even to his most trusted team mate.

But here, in front of you, he’s not the ruthless, fearsome Ghost.

Here, he is just Simon Riley, your companion, beloved husband. The men you trust with all your life.

And he loves and trusts you enough to pour his heart and fear out to you. Laying it bare. 

Pulling him up to a stand, giving him a kiss on the lip. “Come on, you should get some rest.”

Leaning forward you place a kiss on the back of his head, whispering into his ears, trying to reassure him, “I am here love. I am not going anywhere…” pulling one of your hands out from his grasp, you stroke his hair lightly, “You haven’t failed us. You saved my life that day. Both of us came home safe and sound to the children and the team at the end, right?”

Cupping his face and lifting his head up, you smiled gently, “It’s all behind us now Simon.” 

“You're not coming to bed with me?”  He asked in a small voice. 

Looking at the fireplace, “I can’t leave it burning overnight. Besides, I couldn’t sleep anyway, that’s why I am down here, reading a book.” pointing to the book and drink, abandoned on the side table. 

“Can I stay with you?”

That is how the twins found the two of you the next morning, sleeping on the lounge, wrapped up in thick blankets, with you cocooned in Simon’s embrace, with a contented smile on both of your faces. 

The sweet twins woke both you and Simon up, with simple breakfast and tea all ready on the table for both of you.

tag:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@floral-force

@homicidal-slvt

@kaplerrr

@siilvan

#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #mini mactavish #mini mactavish universe #call of duty #simon ghost riley x f!reader #cod

[somestardeww]

something with stiles x fem!reader ;D

¹reader is alternative (the style, lol) and is a bit provocative too, but in a confident way. ²contains inaccurate descriptions of college dorms, smut under the cut :)

side note: this was supposed to be something short, maybe a pwp lmaooo

Stiles was never a guy with a lot of free time, as he spent half of his time dealing with the supernatural and the other half was divided between his dream college and taking care of his father, who, even though he was much older than him, left your food automatically, without worrying too much about your health.

So moving into college housing freshman year at the age of 18 was a… frighteningly interesting experience. He feared for his father, even though Scott had assured him he would keep an eye on him. He had also forced his friends to talk to him if something supernatural happened in Beacon Hills (he knew that his friends would try to solve everything themselves so as not to bother him, but there was no harm in trying).

For the first few months he was alone in the accommodation, it seems the universe finally smiled on him; the privacy and peace he had to do everything, from studying to doing nothing, was incredible.

Well, until now. The middle of the college year was approaching, and with it some students who transferred from other colleges to their unit, for various reasons. This was apparently the reason why some dorms had one or no people when they were made for doubles.

Stiles was on his way to the principal's office to find out who he would be sharing a room with when he ran into her.

He doesn't know what he gave himself, but there was something about that person in front of him that attracted him in every way. He didn't realize he was staring until he saw you heading towards him, stopping right in front of him. He thought he might faint.

"you can take a photo, beautiful, it will last longer" She said and smiled. The tone wasn't mocking… it was more of an amusing tone, as if it had entertained her. "What is your name?" You speak, and Stiles takes a couple seconds to reason. Damn, after all those years of liking Lídia he really thought he would know how to deal with female people better.

"Ah, my name is Stiles! It's nice to meet you. You transferred, right?"

You introduce yourself and agree, and then ask him for directions "Can you tell me which is dominion 53? I was placed there"

Stiles didn't know if he would jump up and down with excitement or if he would curl up in a fetal position for the next few minutes.

That was his dorm.

"It's my dorm, actually" He says and scratches the back of his head, his hair was growing there. Maybe it was time to shave…

"Then show me the way, sir" You say in a slightly excited way, looking at him.

As you walk and talk through the halls on your way to your own dorm, he can't take his eyes off you. His alternative punk style suited his personality. He also noticed that it was very, very easy to talk to you, as if you had known each other for a while.

When they arrive at the dorm, he notices that you are impressed with the place, looking around for a while and then asking what your room would be. The place was made up of a common room, with a TV, sofa and bookshelf with some books with an armchair nearby and a small kitchen with a fridge, stove and some cupboards, with a table that was full of Stiles' papers, who thought the place very comfortable.

────────────────────────────────

After a few weeks you were already used to living together, and you talked every day like old friends. the table that stiles used in the room slowly started to be used by the two of you, who also began to study frequently together, sometimes spending the night studying some old cold and unsolved FBI case.

One of the only times of the day you weren't together was in your own classes and when you both went to sleep.

And as time went by, Stiles started to hate that last part.

Not that he didn't like sleeping, but, you see, it's not easy to sleep with a painful, throbbing erection between your legs, which starts releasing pre-cum whenever Stiles thinks about you in the privacy of his own room. That was the moment when, outside of classes, he had nowhere to divert the thoughts he had about you.

And he remembered well when you started to disturb his nights: it was when he went to gather the clothes to be washed, since it was his week to do this task, and went to his room. he hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, until the moment he picked up something… wet? He lifts it to see what it was and finds his panties all wet with obvious cum, they were almost dripping with something he assumed was his excitement.

until it got worse lmfao

A few nights after that, he found himself lying in his own bed,

with his limbs spread out while one of his arms covered his own eyes. He was ready to give in to taking a cold shower to try to get rid of that erection that wouldn't go away, because he avoided touching himself too much thinking about you (he would definitely remember this at some random moment of the day and would be embarrassed) when he heard a soft moan. He thought it was something in his own mind with tension, so he ignored it… until he heard it again, louder.

The noises became frequent and then the penny dropped: you were making a fuss. And apparently, I was thinking about him too, if the loud moans that said "Stiles~ oh, fuuucckkk" that you let out were anything to go by.

He stopped in his bed, frozen halfway to standing up as he listened to her sounds, which were getting louder and louder, when his hand automatically went to his own erection, squeezing it tightly as he sighed in relief at the light contact. His hand started moving up and down faster and faster, and he could feel his dick throb every time you moaned louder and he could hear it.

How were you? Was she squeezing her breasts, or was her attention focused solely on her pussy? Was she touching her own clitoris while thinking about his tongue there? He didn't know, but just the possibility that his thoughts were, for the first time, real, he felt his hips rise against his own hands as he tightened his grip on his own cock, increasing the pace almost automatically.

This went on for a few moments, but he wouldn't be able to get there, not with you touching yourself so audibly so close to him. Then he got up and left the room. Without thinking too much, so as not to lose his courage, he went to your door and was surprised by the fact that it was ajar, giving him a partial view of you, wrapped in the blankets with one hand between your legs, obviously touching your own pussy. , while gripping the pillow above you.

He sees your absolutely beautiful breasts move with your heavy breathing and, taking advantage of the exact moment when you moan his name in such an obscene and beautiful way, he responds:

"Yes Princess?" as he leans against the frame of his door, smiling as he becomes deeply distracted by the sight before him.

You look at him in shock, your movements stopping as you stare at him, speechless and analyzing the boy in front of you.

It was no secret to you how attractive Stiles was, and you really didn't know how he didn't have anyone to call hers. From the first moment you were enchanted by him, by how naturally funny he is and how he didn't judge you based on your appearance and style; right now he didn't seem to be judging you… he even seemed horny.

Seeing his expression and how he was behaving you relaxed on the bed, your pussy still pulsing as you gave him a drunken smile, saying "hi Stiles, have you been there for a long time darling?"

"I just arrived, but I've been listening for a while, yes. These walls are very thin, you know" He speaks and you pay attention to him. He turns more towards you as the words leave his mouth, him becoming more comfortable, and gives you the view of his cock forming a tent in the pants he probably wears without underwear.

"I know… why don't you come closer and tell me about it, pretty boy?" You talk and smile, patting the bed in an invitation that wasn't meant to talk about the dorm's infrastructure.

"Gorgeous woman speaks, I obey." He responds, heading towards you.

He gets to the foot of the bed and looks at you, saying "Hi" to which you respond by pulling him on top of you while kissing him.

"Do you realize how much I wanted to do that, baby? Kiss you like that?" You say, wrapping your legs around his hips and caressing Stiles' bare arms.

"I haven't wanted you for as long as I have, I guarantee it" He replies, holding your waist and kissing you on your neck, the trail continuing to your breasts as he feels your legs wrapping around him, smiling at the gesture while squeezing your waist.

"Why don't you show me what else you want to do to me, sti?" You speak finally, looking him in the eyes as he looks back at you, kissing your nipples.

"I would love"

#smut #imagine #i love this man sm #fem reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles smut #stiles imagine #teen wolf #teenwolf smut #teenwolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf smut #teen wolf imagine #i love him so much your honor #i would die and kill for that man im not even joking #the things i would do

[highlady-sorcha]

Appetite (Cassian x Reader) (Mature)

Holy freaking cow guys, I CANNOT believe the reception that you all have given my work on here. I can’t even begin to tell you what it means, and I truly cannot thank you enough for all the love and support you’ve given me over the past couple days. Here’s another one from my Wattpad in a much different vein than the other two. I’ve never written smut before this- so bear with me lol. Thanks for reading!

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The cabin got too quiet during the day. Snow flurried down from the skies in a ceaseless sheet of white fluff, and the drifts grew higher and higher, beginning to shift around as the wind roared around the eaves of the building.

   You shuddered against the cold and snuggled deeper into your sweater. The thick knit felt good against the chill that leaked in from around a few of the windows. For all the magic that Rhysand held, it was a wonder he never bothered to fix that. For all the time that he and Feyre spent up here, didn't he ever get cold?

    Thinking of what they spent their time up here doing, you snorted. Of course they didn't get cold up here, no matter if they were deep in the Illyrian mountains in the dead of winter. Nyx was proof of that.

  Settling down into the overstuffed couch, you grabbed your book off the sofa, where you had it laying open, face down to keep your place. The wind roared outside as you tried to not consider what had possibly happened on this very seat by the same two people you'd had in mind.

   You picked up the book and began to read, taking a long, slow drink of your steaming tea. The hot liquid slipped over your tongue and languidly dripped down the back of your throat.

 There were other things you wanted to drip down the back of your throat.

A pleasant ache throbbed softly between your thighs.

Now wasn't the time, Cassian would be back later, he said he just wanted time away from everything when he got back. Being part of the inner circle took a toll on him at times, and now with the pressure of being an uncle, the protectiveness he felt for Nyx... you knew it killed him at times.

    But, there were ways to help him relax when he did get back to the cabin.. Your chest tightened a little bit at the thought of him in that huge armchair by the window. His dark, tattooed skin shining in the winter light. All of his skin. Not a stitch on him. Laid back, his head thrown back in ecstasy. With his thick cock in one hand, your hair knotted in the other.

  The ache built, wetness slicking your throbbing slit. Tingles traveled down your legs, and you couldn't help but curl your toes in response. The sensation traveled up from your gently swelling clit to the tips of your breasts. They hardened instantly.

 You forced another breath through your tightened chest, and set the book on the back of the couch. It slipped off the back and fell to the floor in a flutter of pages. You hardly noticed as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa and spread your legs just a little bit.

   The other night, Cassian had wanted to try something new. He'd brought out a length of rope and tied your wrists together  around the bedpost. After stripping you bare and laying you facedown on the bed, he'd run a calloused fingertip down your spine with one finger, and used the other to play with your clit.

  You were so sensitive that you rarely liked him touching you like that. The sensation was almost more than you could bare. It almost hurt. You could never stay still, him touching your clit sent you jerking and clenching your leg closed. Most of the time, Cassian lost patience and just spread your legs. He normally chose to pleasure you with his cock instead- what he knew you could handle.

  Recently though, he'd been sadistic- feral, almost. Bared teeth, fucking outside. The more you whined and begged, moaned and whimpered that you had already come too many times- the harder and longer he fucked you.

 Although the fire in the hearth now banked low, heat rippled across your skin when you slid your hand between your legs. The silken sleep shorts you wore were damp at the crotch seam. The navel length top did nothing to hide your peaked breasts. They chafed against the fabric, begging to be kissed by cool air and kneaded by Cassian's rough hands.

 A soft sigh left your parted lips and you closed your eyes when your fingers dipped into the wetness you found.

 "Mmm, kitten. Seems like you knew just what I would need when I got in." A deep voice purred.

Your eyes flew open as snowflakes fluttered in on a frigid wind. You'd been so preoccupied, you hadn't even heard the door open.

 Cassian threw it closed behind him, all his attention already on you. It slammed so hard you didn't need fae hearing to catch the glass rattle in its frame.

  A feral smile stretched his mouth, his wings spread wide behind him so that winter light highlighted the membranes between each bone. Snowflakes melted in the black, wind tangled locks that curled around his jaw.

 He had a warrior's stance as he looked at you reclined on the sofa, playing with yourself.

 Cassian growled and stroked the enormous bulge building beneath his belt.

 "I thought you were going to spend the day reading and writing?" He smirked.

 Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a feral grin, dipping deeper into the wetness at your core.

  "Reading builds an appetite," you replied.

 "Does it now?" The corner of Cassian's wide mouth quirked up.

  Folding his wings in tightly behind him, he stalked across the room. Every thump of his boots echoed in your heart, at the apex of your thighs. That hot tightness built and built. The tightness in your chest curled like a python preparing for its next meal.

 He stood over you and leaned down onto the back of the sofa, bracing himself on his powerful forearms. The sight of corded muscles shifting under his bronze, tattooed skin made you swallow past a lump in your throat.

 "Now kitten... what are we going to do with you?" Cassian raked his eyes up and down your body before meeting your eye.

 A growl rumbled in his throat, his adam's apple shifted. "Well, are you going to answer me?"

 You gave him your best naughty smirk and lifted your hips off the sofa, pulling your silken shorts down and off in one smooth motion. You flicked them across the room, onto the very same armchair by the fire you'd imagined Cassian stroking his cock in only moments ago.

 Meeting his eye again, you spread your legs and played with your clit, making a mewling sound at the back of your throat as you did so.

  His eyes darkened as he smiled. "Now... I don't think we want to do it so simply, do we?"

 Before you could respond, he'd reached over the back of the couch and snatched the front of your silky tank top. Cassian fisted it in his hand and pulled you up face to face with him. This close, the musky scent of his arousal was almost more than you could bear.

  His lips crashed into yours, and he wrapped his arms around you. You kissed him back, opening your mouth to allow his tongue in. He kissed furiously, with a primal need. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he sat you on the back of the sofa, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at your bottom lip before leaving it, kissing down your jaw, licking the sensitive spot below your ear.

  You groan at the hot sensation of his tongue and shifted closer to him, desperate for any friction to help relieve the ache that was building to a fever pitch. Cassian allowed you closer, your naked bottom grinding into his leather covered bulge. Your slickness did nothing to give you friction though, against the leather you just slid up and down. You whined at the reality.

 Cassian chuckled low in his throat, pulling away from your mouth. He braced his hands at the tops of your thighs and smirked at you. His face was wild with attraction, but you could see the leash he kept on it tighten just a little.

  "You're not going to get away so quickly. You said you had an appetite (y/n)?"

 Still breathing hard from making out, feeling the burning of his scruff still on your face you nodded desperately.

 Cassian's smile was positively feral. "So do I, it's been a long damn day."

 Cassian dropped to his knees and feasted like a starving man.

#acotar #smut #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #Cassian #Cassian x reader

[according2thelore]

These ES/LS snippets are truly saving my need for more of your fics.

You very quickly became my favorite wincest author, hitting every one of my favorite tropes(hurt/comfort is my bread and butter too!) And I'm excitedly(and impatiently lol) waiting for your next fics to come out.

Your writing is SO GOOD and I find myself going back to your fics all the time. My first was your love potion fic and that's still one of my absolute favorite samdean fics out there.

This isn’t really an ask so much as it is an appreciation lol. Can't wait for your next fic!

(If this was an ask though, I'd love more thoughts on your ES/LS universe and even MORE hurt/comfort and jealousy lol)

BABE???? OH MY????

i don't even know what to say! this is the nicest compliment!!!!! you're so incredibly kind, and i'm so unbelievably honoured that my work is special to you!

EEP! i can't even express how much this ask means to me!!!! there are literally no words!!!! the love potion fic was meant as a fun little add-on to that month's challenge, but i've been blown away by how much folks have liked it--i live for a little melodrama and H/C, lol!

every writer dreams of getting asks like this one, and just ARGH! i'm kissing you on both cheeks!!!!!

as for upcoming things, my next fic will probably be my teen!chesters piece for the wayward sons zine (it will be HEFTY). charlotte and i were outlining this fic, and it ended up being about five pages of outline. so def a larger one!

because this ask was so incredible and lovely and kind (so kind?? holy shit?? my hand in marriage??) i wrote a little thing for you! i hope you like!

dean rubs his hands on the sides of his jeans, before he catches himself doing it. shit.

he crosses his arms, then realizes that he looks awkward and posed, so he uncrosses them again. he pushes his hair back from his face--but fuck, what if his hair looks weird now? dean checks frantically around for a reflective surface, but the only thing even close to him is a giant telescope, and--even though he briefly considers it--there's no way he'd be able to crawl back up it and down in time.

"what are you doing?" he mutters to himself, able to at least recognize that he's acting like a preteen about to meet one of the jonas brothers.

it's just sam.

just sam, kind of, dean's brain quietly corrects. it's just sam, but fucking huge.

it's just sam, but his ridiculous hair has grown and curls softly around his ears, brushes his jaw when he ducks his head. it's just sam, except his arms are bigger than dean's head. dean didn't miss the show the other day when sam came to look for something and lifted a fucking stuffed armchair with one arm.

(dean tried it later, and it took him both hands and two tries to get it off the ground. that thing must be reinforced with some crazy cold war steel or something. definitely.)

dean eyes the main room again. he should just sit at the big table. he eyes the big sword on one of the shelves. no--focus. sam went into "library annex 3" to find a book that he thought dean should absolutely take a look at, and left dean, dazzled, in his wake. so dean is going to sit here and wait, because he's been running out of excuses to see sammy lately.

dean slumps into one of the chairs, sighing. what is wrong with him?

he gets so...easily distracted whenever sammy--future-sam or whatever--starts talking to him. and most of it isn't even his fault, okay? sammy always puffs up whenever either 2006 winchester gets close, a dick-measuring if dean's ever seen one. as soon as sam got a single inch on dean in height, dean's never heard the end of it. but this sammy, older sammy, straightens up and his chest gets all big and--fuck--arms! big arms!!

dean keeps trying to find plausible excuses for sammy to take off his shirt because dean is convinced he has a six-pack under there, and it's his right to know!

"i found it!" a muffled voice from down the hallway, so deep that dean's brain goes a little sideways. and dean feels his whole body lock up, like he's just been thrown out of an airplane.

sam--sammy steps through the doorway, holding up a book triumphantly. his eyes are bright, and he's got little wrinkles at the corners, barely there. his grin is radiant, and dean feels absurdly like he's looking directly at one of those religious frescos with the yellow circles behind everyone's heads. sam would get a kick out of that.

dean whimpers. he straight up fucking whimpers, covering it quickly with a cleared throat.

"great!" he says, too bright. it's not his fault! it's not! dean barely resists the urge to bash his own head in.

so sue him! sam is suddenly huge and old and glad to see dean? he lights up whenever dean walks into a room, greeting him warmly. he seems to find dean adorable, which dean kind of resents, but it's hard to stay mad at sammy when he clearly finds so much delight in seeing him.

and 'sammy' isn't helping. 'sammy' had always been a dean word. it had been an 'us' word, a 'they don't know you like i know you, they can't understand you like i can' word. as soon as dean's own sam--2006 sam--had shrugged off the word, and older sam had donned it, dean knew he was screwed. wires crossed. you can only call so many men 'sammy' before you start to tease them and want to be around them and give them shit and look at their huge fucking tits--wait...no. shit. focus!

"so get this," sammy says, and he slides into the chair next to dean, smooth and graceful and so in touch with every muscle in his body that dean has to catch his breath a little. and his chest does something funny, because sam shows him the book and starts babbling.

he starts babbling. like a two year old sam and an eight year old sam and a twelve and a fifteen and an eighteen year old sam.

it seems impossible that this person--this man, all poise and purpose and focus, whose eyes can cut and soothe, whose stubble scratches when he rubs a hand across his jaw--is still dean's sam. dean's sammy.

and he knows it. and he likes it. this sammy brushes his shoulder and doesn't recoil like it burns. he looks to dean first when something is wrong. dean saw, the other day, how his older self comforted sam after a nightmare, how easily sam contorted himself to fit the shape of older dean's arms. sam likes being dean's. or at least this version of dean.

"anyways, i think that this is probably our most comprehensive record of vampires--their habits, their physiology, their weaknesses. if you wanted to give it a read, i think it'll really come in handy." sam says, still talking like dean cares at all for vampires and not the exact shape of sam's mouth.

dean aches. he feels inadequate. there is something clearly in this dean that is worthy, something that sam finds lovable. or necessary. dean wants to be necessary. dean needs to be necessary.

"yeah." dean says, suddenly, when he realizes that sammy's looking for a response. "that--uh--that sounds great."

"you didn't hear a thing i said, did you?" sammy asks, eyebrow raised, teasing and knowing and fuck--dean's chest collapses. sam knows him.

it's so strange to be known by this...this man. this man who blots out the sun with his shoulders, and has callused hands, and looks at dean like he's proud of him. this man knows him. this man is sammy, and that's all dean every really needs.

"naw." he says, scrubbing a hand in the close-shorn hair at the back of his head, abashed and feeling strange. "'m sorry."

"don't be." sammy rolls his eyes, but it's in good humour. sam--2006 sam, and it's weird that dean has already made that distinction--would genuinely be put out. he thinks dean doesn't take him seriously.

both sams are alien to dean. sam, because his burden is eating him alive. he's terrified of himself, of his powers. furious at what he's becoming and increasingly furious at dean for not taking his own safety seriously. like sam could ever hurt him.

and this sammy, of course, is different. he's physically very different, but also...softer? that's the wrong word. he's easier, maybe. his smiles are soft and he thinks through things before he says them. he doesn't hurt to hold in your hand like sam does, all spikes and hard edges like rock that resents you for holding it. sammy is a stone worn smooth by a river, and dean doesn't know if that makes him a bad brother.

he doesn't want to know, because he can't think about this being another way of failing sam. dean's been failing sam since that first over-long look in 1995.

this sam, at least, dean has a reason for not understanding completely. time has made a stranger of his brother, not circumstance, and time is easier to blame.

"what?" sammy asks, and dean snaps back to the present, abashed again. god. it's like his first fumbling date a fourteen all over again. but wait, no it's not--why did dean think that?

"nothing. sorry. you're just--" dean can't find the words. sammy seems delighted at this, eyes sparking with a challenge like they're both in on a joke.

"i'm..." he prompts, drawing it out. dean sputters. he and sam give each other shit all the time. it shouldn't feel different with this sam, but...it does.

"hi."

dean jerks away, sitting up straight in his chair. sam stands in the doorway. he looks pissed. his hands are balled into fists at his sides, his jaw is set, and he's...not looking at dean.

dean looks to sammy, whose eyes widen. he seems surprised by something. proud of something.

"dean wants to know if we're ready for dinner. what are you doing?" sam asks, words loaded. dean's about to jump in, feeling weirdly guilty. they're just talking about a book, it's not like they were--

"just talking with my little brother." sam says, jostling dean's shoulder with his elbow, like this is all a big joke but what the fuck?? dean's spine melts and drips down his ribs. oh my fucking god.

little brother little brother little brother sam could pin dean down if he wanted to, dean looks down at sam's huge fucking hands oh my god, little brother--

"you--" sam starts, and sammy sits up straighter, tilting his head forward like he's coaching sam through something, but sam's eyes are suddenly on dean, and dean freezes.

he doesn't know what to do under sam's critical gaze. the weight in his stomach is definitely guilt, but dean doesn't know why. dean looks away first.

"we're just talking shop, sam." dean says to his hands. a pause. dean hears sam leave, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

he better not be going to see that old geezer. dean doesn't like he way he looks at sam.

"we almost had him," sammy says, thoughtful. dean looks up, and sammy is looking down at him with an expression so fond that dean's throat closes. "next time."

dean's heart beats faster.

oh man. he is so fucked.

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #animangalover15

[doki-doki-imagines]

Power of a hug feat mk1 Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kenshi Takahashi author note:as my fave memer said "the wettest and most humid kiss is nothing in comparison to the power of an hug". There are other characters that I have in mind with this prompt so I hope the post will go well lol.

tw: Kenshi part is suggestive.

You are used to being alone, you have been for most of your years, and you are sure Johnny would never describe you as clingy. You give him his space, he gives you yours, nice and comfortable. That’s why when he told you about this expedition that was going to take him a long time and far away, you didn’t budge, just kissed him goodbye and told him to come back in one piece.

Okay, the departure wasn’t so blunt, and maybe there weren’t just kisses and maybe you were sobbing while telling him to be safe because you knew that Johnny wasn’t going out for a movie, but this is the gist of it.

And now you are sitting on Johnny’s armchair, wearing his favorite cover, the one dripping off his perfume, reading, trying to get your mind elsewhere while your heart silently shouts in pain, while your brain screams at it to shut up, because you are strong and even if you haven’t heard him for 2 months you shouldn’t miss him so much, because you are independent and yadda yadda; you miss him so much you’d curl up in a hole and get moldy there.

You sit there, ‘till you recognize a familiar sound, “is that Liu Kang voice?” you think, already standing up. There are other voices outside the house, but soon they all fade when you hear one in particular.

It’s Johnny’s one.

You’d like to stay in, wait for him inside nonchalantly walking towards him to greet your boyfriend as elegantly as you can muster.

Outside is snowing and you are wearing shorts (made of wool, but still shorts) and slippers but your mind simply doesn’t work, heart beating freely, pumping blood with new vigor.

“Johnny!” You open the door, freezing air hitting your body with full force, but you feel nothing.

Your legs run toward your boyfriend before your mind perceives your action. He turns around at your voice, and he is so beautiful your legs almost give up…almost.

“Oh-“ You jump in his arms, knocking him a few steps behind, not noticing all the gifts he had to throw on the ground to take you. You sigh in his arms, his strong arms now enveloping your shivering body “Kitty, are you shivering because you missed me?” He jokingly says,

“Yeah, it’s because I missed you so much.”  Your voice breaks, your arms around his neck, legs gripping his waist as tightly as you can.

His hands slid on your thighs, thumbs drawing hearts on your skin, no goose-bumps, he is so warm and you are so full of love that you can’t feel anything else anymore.

Your foreheads kiss, breaths mingling, smiles stuck on both of your faces, warm brown eyes locked into yours.

His friends are long gone, leaving the two lovebirds alone.

He had to leave you there, in a snowstorm in the hands of the enemies, alone. You always have a plan, they always work out that’s why he trusts you so much even if you are a total dumbass.

“Go Bi-Han, don’t worry for me.” Your voice was trembling, you knew that you couldn’t survive and you also knew that he needed to return home alive.

And he follows your order because you are always right and things always go your way. Even when you are against him. Even when you tease him making his ears flush red. You always come up victorius.

Bi-Han stops on his track, snow falling on his shoulders. He can’t breathe. He hates you.

He’d like to sit there and let snow bury him. He can’t, he is Lin Kuei grandmaster whose willpower never waver, and who is headstrong like nobody else. Bi-Han has seen dear ones die in front of his eyes, betray him, this time mustn’t be any different.

Bi-Han feels like crying. You aren’t a fighter, but he wanted to bring you with him because nobody could outsmart you, and your brain was needed for this mission.

What an idiot. He tightens his fists, eyes closed so tight that wrinkles appear at the corners, no punishment would be enough for his mistake, never enough whips, never enough slaps.

He stays there a few more minutes, he couldn’t go back home, not ‘till he won’t be sure tears wouldn’t spill from his eyes.

Then he hears a voice, more like a whine, but it’s something he has heard many times before. Bi-Han starts to run towards the voice, walking much harder with so much snow.

“Told you-“ You are there, sitting on the snow, trembling like a newborn kitty, eyes shining, and with that shit-eating grin of yours “my plans never fail!” He crouches down towards you, he must be going crazy, his index and middle fingers pinch your cheek.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” You are there, real, talking to him like you didn’t say goodbye to him a few minutes prior. He sits next to you, onyx eyes wide.

“You are alive” He is able to say, voice hoarse as always, mask reducing the sound to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I would have never let anyone take my life, they have to get in line you know? Since you were the first one to promise me you were going to-“

Bi-Han doesn’t let you finish the phrase, his arms hugging your torso so close and so strongly against his body that he knocks air out of your lungs.

“I was so worried.” His right hand grips the back of your head, holding it in the nook of his neck. His voice trembles and he feels you stilling in his arms. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, your chest rising up and down at each breath you take; you are alive.

He almost lost you.

You free your head from his grip, thin ice on your hair like a veil made by his unrestrained magic, your hands now slowly removing his mask, showing you his trembling lips, you look at his eyes, he knows they are watery, his vision is foggy. Then your delicate fingers grip the collar of his uniform, your lips pressing for the first time against his.

It is a short moment, Bi-Han closes his eyes, and when he opens them your lips aren’t there anymore, but he still feels something warm; your arms reciprocating the hug.

It is suffocating but at the same time makes him feel alive, a warmth that envelops him entirely, that makes his heart run like a wild horse, but that puts his mind at ease; he is safe, you are too in his arms.

He couldn’t ask for more.

“K-Kenshi-“ You gasp, your hips grinding onto his, his tattoed hands running from your chest to your tummy, never resting, never letting you go.

He missed you. Kenshi missed you terribly. It wasn’t just sex, as good as it is, he missed your voice, your hands in his ones, your gentle lips on his cheeks. He missed hearing you talking about your day, about that terrible co-worker. He missed hearing your laughter and your hands massaging his scalp when he felt particularly stressed.

A moan dies in his throat after a delicious roll of your hips. Yeah, he missed this too.

You are close he can feel it and he is not far behind, but there is still something he desperately needs to do.

He lifts up, sitting now, his arms around your waist, hands on your lower back, both guiding your movements and keeping you close to his chest.

“I missed you so much-“ A whimper leaves his mouth, he can feel your lips so close to his, your breath labored, your body so close creates a delicious friction that just makes his mind fog even more.

“Me too, me too-“ You hug him back, your arms tight against his back, nails scratching his back while he helps you both reach completion.

You keep each other close, breaths still heavy, bodies sweaty.

“I missed you so much.” You are the first one to break the silence, Kenshi notices a hint of sadness.

Hint that became something more when the hand caressing your cheek meets a tear. The pang he feels in his heart hurts so much, but he also knows it is deserved.

“Me too honey, me too.” His right hand massages the back of your head, while the other traces heart-shaped patterns on your back.

Kenshi doesn’t let go, now laying on your shared bed, you on top of him. He can’t see your face, but losing sight made him more sensible, noticing every gasp leaving your lips, every twitch of your muscles.

He restrains himself, he can’t cry, but every gasp that leaves your lips is like a stab in his chest, each tear pulling your body closer, your hearts beating in synchronized sorrow.

But Kenshi can’t tell you that next time it will be different. He can’t reassure you that he will be safe.

He keeps you close to his chest ‘till he feels your breath slowing down, now stable. Kenshi keeps caressing your back, feeling his muscles relax, exhaustion washing over him too.

Kenshi soon falls asleep, wishing to still have you in his arms when he’ll regain consciousness the next morning.

#mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #johnny cage x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #johnny cage #bi han #kenshi takahashi #mortal kombat imagine #mk1 imagine #mortal kombat x you #mk1 x you

[i-fondued]

Kinktober 2022 | Ghost | Gentle Touches

A stolen soft moment with Cardinal Copia turns anything but gentle in the end

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Sex (duh), Swearing (but now in Italian!), some fluff, all 3 papas show up at one point LOL

A/N: This one is full of fluffy moments but also smut so yay lol. This is also going to be posted to AO3 in a little bit, in case you’d rather read it over there.

Also I love how much other people are loving these little PWPs, it means a lot to me that people are commenting and sharing. Makes the staying up late (11pm is late okay?? I am old now, with a full time job and kids T^T) so worth it!!

Here is the AO3 link for those who prefer to read on AO3!

“Sister, the Cardinal is asking for you.”

I looked up from the large dusty tome I had been skimming, looking for a particular ritual Primo had asked me about the day prior, he said it was to help with the vegetables in the greenhouse. A younger sister smiled at me, leaning around the bookcase to my table.

“Yes, of course, thank you.” I reached for my habit, tucking my hair away again. “Did he mention what he needed me for?”

“I’m sorry, no. He just said to have you see him in his office.” She shrugged before slipping away, no doubt leaving the warm library that I called home. 

Packing up a few folders of translations and sections of sermons Cardinal Copia had asked me to look at after our last meeting, I pushed my work into the nearby filing cabinet and locked it behind me. Humming to myself I wandered from the library, down various hallways before ending up in the administrative office wing. His personal office door, large and ornately carved, was closed. I knocked twice before I heard him speak.

“Venire, er, come in!”

Cardinal Copia’s office was once a rather good sized space however since he had taken over the office became more cramped. The entire wall to the left was bookshelves filled from floor to ceiling, all his personal collection. In the center of the wall on the right was a large fireplace, a small fire crackling happily in the October chill, on either side of the fireplace were more bookshelves. 

He had two armchairs seated in front of the fireplace with a small side table between them. On the table was a small tray with a decanter of his favorite whiskey and two glasses, ready for whenever he was hosting a guest. His desk was in the center of the room, a large dark wood that was carved much like the door into the office. The surface was practically covered in books, papers, scrolls, and many other knickknacks from his travels. Across from the desk was a pair of chairs, both with plush and welcoming cushions. 

Today Copia was dressed in his black cassock, his biretta sitting on top of a stack of books on his desk. His gloves were also off, which was rare in a public setting like this, and were laid on top of his hat. My eyes drifted to the papers he was writing and I saw his hands were slightly ink stained, as he preferred to use a calligraphy pen rather than a normal one.

“Afternoon, Cardinal.” I smiled, sitting as he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. “The junior sister let me know that you had been asking for me. Is there something I can help you with? I brought the papers we had been working on…”

Copia didn’t speak right away, instead he stood and walked over to peek out of the door into the hallway. He closed the door softly, the lock clicking while my heart rate jumped up. Ah, that’s why he had been asking for me. I felt him hesitantly place his hand on the back of the chair. His fingers just barely brushing against my shoulder, a small shiver ran down my spine as I turned to look back at his mismatched gaze. There was so much longing in his eyes sometimes it took my breath away. 

“I-I just wanted to see you…” He mumbled, a slight pink blush spreading on his face. His fingers slipped under my habit and I felt his fingers toy with one of my curls. A smile broke out on my face, leaning into his touch as his other hand came to settle on my shoulder, massaging the muscles gently.

“I missed you too, Copia.” My hand came up to rest on his as I turned to smile at him. His cheeks flushed when I spoke his name, we both were used to referring to each other by title. I knew he loved it when I called him his name when it was just us.

His hand slipped from under my habit, pulling it off my head and tossing it onto his desk. I felt his hand come to cup my cheek as he came to stand in front of me, slightly leaning against his desk. I leaned into his touch, heart beating steadily in my chest as a warm feeling spread through my whole body. He took the papers from my lap and tossed them on the desk before leaning down and kissing me softly. My heart soared, beating wildly in my chest, as I felt his fingers brush softly against the skin of my cheek. He pulled away and I felt like I was floating slightly, my eyes fluttering slightly as the cardinal’s gaze locked with mine. 

“Cosi Bella…” He murmured before pulling me up into his arms, I squealed slightly before our lips met again. His hands were on my waist as he turned us, pinning me to the desk with his hips.

My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to me, as our kisses became more frantic. His tongue brushed against my own as he nibbled at my bottom lip. I moaned quietly, fingers curling into his hair as his tongue coaxed mine into his own mouth. He teased mine, sucking slightly on it and I felt my knees wobble like I was a virginal sister all over again. His hands left my hips to bracket my body as he leaned against me, fingers gripping the wood tightly. 

“Cardinal…” I groaned quietly, my head falling to the side and offering my neck to him as I caught my breath. He rolled his hips into mine and I could feel how hard he was already. He kissed my sensitive neck softly, skillfully nipping and sucking on the exact spots that made my body thrum. “We shouldn’t…”

“I’ve missed you…” He echoed himself into my skin, lips brushing against the shell of my ear, the rumble of his voice causing a shudder to run through my body. 

“What if someone hears…” I couldn’t even finish what I was saying, a gasp slipping from my lips as his fingers curled around the hem of my robes. His bare hands were a rare treat against my thighs as he slipped a hand between us.

“They will not say anything.” Copia murmured, his knee pressing between my legs and pushing them apart. “The Papas are in a meeting with Seestor, they will be occupied for quite some time.”

His hand slipped to brush against the damp spot on my underwear, and I bit my lip to stop the moan from spilling out. My head fell forward, burying his neck. I closed my eyes, taking a deep steadying breath and tried to bookmark his scent for later. It was of old parchment, leather, and his very traditional Italian aftershave. I pressed light kisses to the little exposed skin of his neck before I got frustrated and leaned back to start unbuttoning his cassock. He paused and undid the buttons, his fingers skilled and faster than mine. 

Once they were undone to his waist, he slipped his arms from the sleeves, letting the robes pool at his waist. He only wore a white under tank top, along with a pair of suspenders, as he frequently told me the heavy wool would make him overheat even in the dead of winter. I smiled warmly at him as I slid back onto the desk, hiking up my skirts and letting him step between my legs. My hands pressed against his chest and I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my hand, my own heart thrumming away. His mismatched eyes locked on mine and we both blushed, a small giggle slipping from my lips. 

Copia leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine, before kissing me softly again. My hands traveled from his chest to brush against his arms, feeling the soft hair as they traveled down his forearms. I tangled his fingers with mine before pulling him against me, he leaned forward and I had to lean back against his stack of books and papers slightly. 

“Cardinal, your things…” I sighed dreamily, turning to look at what I was crushing with my weight. 

His answer was to reach around and push everything to the floor, the splash of papers sliding everywhere making me roll my eyes at him. Most of which was the papers he requested of me, now mixed with his sermons.

“I-I pick it up after…” He mumbled shyly, rubbing at my arms. “It is okay, Sister.”

I started to open my mouth to fire a sassy retort but it came out as a strangled sound as I felt his fingers brush against my core. He smirked, a rare sight from the shy man in front of me, and I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks before heading right to my belly. I felt him grind against my thigh as he lazily let his fingers slip up and down my soaked core. He pushed my underwear down, helping me lift my hips to slide down my legs. I watched as he tucked them into his back pocket and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. 

“Mia Cara…you’re so ready for me…” 

“Copia…” I whined, head thrown back as he teased my entrance with his fingers, barely brushing against my clit. I had to bite my lip from the moan that was fighting its way out. 

I heard the sound of fabric landing on the floor, his cassock discarded from his waist. I reached out, pushing the suspenders from his shoulders, and placing feather-like kisses on his skin. He practically purred under my hands and I couldn’t help but smile at him. We were kissing again, his tongue tangled in mine as I groaned rolling my hips to try and get any more friction from his fingers.  

“Ah, ah…” Copia tutted, a smirk on his face again, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “I’m not sure that you have earned more from me Bella…”

“P-please Copia…” I whimpered, his fingers barely brushed my clit and my hips bucked forward, grinding against nothing as he pulled his fingers away. 

“In italiano, Sorella…”

“F-fottimi per favore.” I begged, not even bothering to try and be alluring as my hands slid between us and I cupped his cock through his trousers. I looked up at him, trying to do my best to convey fuck me eyes.  “S-sono stata una b-brave sorella, si?”

A hissed line of jumbled Italian left his lips before he crashed them into my own, hungry and blistering as he devoured me. I felt his cock jump under my steady attention before I started to undo the button and zipper. Copia, suddenly more impatient than me, tore at his trousers. He tugged at my hips, pulling me to the edge of the desk, before he rubbed the head of his cock against me. I moaned, rolling my hips forward as the heat of lust pooled in my belly. Slowly he pushed forward, stretching the walls of my cunt as he slid into me. 

I groaned as I laid back as my arms wouldn’t hold me up anymore, the back of my head hitting the wood gracelessly. My leg came up to curl around Copia’s waist as he eagerly slid deep inside me. I felt him begin to move slowly at first, knowing he was giving me a moment to adjust to the feeling of him inside me, before his right hand came up to grip my shoulder before he began to move in more earnest, deep thrusts. 

“Fuck, Copia…” I hissed, my right hand coming to curl around his bicep and digging little half-moon nail marks into his skin. He slammed into me, a steady but fast pace was set. “Don’t stop.”

His left hand pulled at the neckline of my robes, gaining access to my breasts. He rolled one nipple between his fingers and I arched up into his touch. He leaned down, still managing to keep the pace he set as he continued to chase his pleasure in my body, and slipped the other nipple in his mouth. My left hand slid into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he teased the little bud with his tongue and teeth. I forcefully pulled him over to me, my kiss frantic as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts.

The erotic, heady sounds of our bodies coming together was all I could hear. Copia’s breath was quickening and I could feel the heat in my belly building. I let my hand slip between our bodies and I quickly brought myself to the edge with my finger, moaning his name in the quiet of his office. 

“Copia…I’m so close.”

“Vieni per me, Sorella.” He grunted in response, both hands now on my shoulders as he pounded into me, his steady rhythm occasionally broken by his own quivering body. He was close too, a heat pooled in my belly and I felt my head fall back again. 

Another swirl of his hip and I felt the wall of pleasure that had built in my belly come crashing down, my orgasm so strong my back arched off of the desk at a sharp angle. I moaned loudly at first before Copia’s lips crashed to mine, devouring the sound as best he could. My legs curled around his hips, pulling him to snap into my sharply as I rode out my pleasure. Another few static thrusts and he grunted into our kiss, I could feel his cock twitch as he came inside me. He gave me a few more weak thrusts before he all but collapsed on top of me, his arms resting on either side of my head. I lazily rubbed at his back as we stayed connected for what felt like hours, his head resting against my chest and listening to the rhythm of my heart return to normal. Blissfully I smiled, kissing the top of his head as his hands caressed my sides affectionately.

“Copia?”

“Si?”

“I…”

The doorknob to his office jiggled as someone attempted to come in. He and I paused, gazes locked in equal looks of matched terror.

“Cardinale?” My heart was about to come out of my throat, that voice belonged to Papa Emeretus III. “Cardinale ci sei tu?”

We looked at each other frantically, both trying to quietly convey something to the other. I begged him to understand that we should stay silent, pretend nobody was in the room. He seemed to agree, relief washing over me. That was before he opened his mouth.

“Si, Papa, dammi un momento.”

I was going to kill him. 

Copia stepped away from me, his now very flaccid cock slipping from me as he scrambled to pull on his cassock. His practiced fingers fixing up all the buttons, before he stepped towards the doors. I scrambled off the desk, slipping to hide on the other side of his desk. I peaked out from the side as Copia unlocked and opened the door just a crack. Terzo was standing there with a bright smile on his face, he couldn’t see me yet but once his eyes adjusted to the darkness I knew he would be able to see me.

“Yes Papa?” Copia spoke, eyes not quite meeting Papa’s face. “Is there something you need?”

“No, no Cardinale. I thought I heard something and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Terzo laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck as he look in Copia’s face. “Did you doze off, Copia? Your paints…they seem quite messy.”

In that moment, Terzo’s eyes locked with mine and he gave a knowing smile. Oh my god I was going to die, or throw up, or both. I darted back behind the desk and I heard the quiet chuckle of our current Papa.

“O-oh, yes Papa…” I heard the shock in Copia’s voice and I knew he was red as a tomato. “I-I’ve been working on your sermons all afternoon. I think I may have uh, dozed off. Si.”

“No worry, Cardinale. You rest, by the look of your office you have earned it Signore.” Papa laughed before bidding Copia a good afternoon. “I see you at supper, yes?”

“Y-yes, Papa.”

I didn’t move again till I heard the door close, peaking around the desk to see Copia leaning against the door with his hand on his chest. His eyes closed and his face a deep blotchy red. I stood on shaky legs, walking over to grab my habit and pulling it on before walking over to the cardinal. I gently pressed my hand to his cheek, smiling softly despite myself.

“He saw me, you know.”

“Si.” His face looking down, he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Terzo is a good Papa, he won’t say anything.” I soothed him as best I could, placing a hand on his chest before he pulled me into a fierce hug. “Copia..?”

“Ti amo, Sorella….”

“I love you too, Cardinal.”

His lips crashed into mine, pulling the habit off my head as he walked me backwards toward the mess on the desk.

…

When I finally left Cardinal Copia’s office hours later, dinner only an hour away, I was covered in love bites wherever my robes covered. A happy and sated look on my face as I turned away from his doors, however it evaporated when I saw the three people sitting at the bench at the end of the call smirking at me. 

Papa Emeritus I, Primo.

Papa Emeritus II, Secondo.

Papa Emeritus III, Terzo.

“P-Papas!” I blurted, bowing my head for a movement before a blush spread across my face. “G-good evening?”

“By the sounds of it a very good evening indeed, Sorella…” Terzo laughed before handing a crisp hundred dollar bill to Primo who looked both impressed and envious at the same time. “We’ll see our povero cardinale for dinner, si?”

“Y-yes your dark eminence!”

“Fantastico, see you then Sister.” Terzo waved me off cheerfully, I scampered away before I could simply die from embarrassment of being caught. I heard the sound of a smack on the head.

“Cazzo, Secondo. What was that for?” Terzo said.

“Leave the young Sorella alone,” Secondo grumbled. “Cardinale needs his own fun from time to time.”

“Apparently more than from time to time, Secondo…” Primo laughed. “Santana sii buono, Cardinale…four times…”

I practically ran from the Papas, holding in my own laughter and mortification.

#Ghost #the band ghost #ghost band #Papa emeritus 4 #ghost the band #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #Copia fanfiction #Ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #Kinktober #kinktober 2022 #fanfiction #Cardi c #popia #popia copia #my writing

[sunlightmurdock]

Apollo and Lil Kazansky are similar in the fact that their horniness is unwatched when their tispy or drunk lol

Absolute MENACES, the both of them.

Tw: drinking and spanking

There’s a specific time that Bradley remembers, from one of your father’s infamous garden parties, that he watched it happen. An almost primal reaction. From the moment you lifted the glass to your lips and sipped back the fruity, strong, cocktail that your sister had poured together — he saw you change. You swallow, eyes darkening as you study his face, lips quirking up into a soft, undoubtedly mischievous smile.

He had swallowed dryly, fingers curling around the chilled beer bottle, frozen in place until he’s slapped in the chest by Jake and asked if he’s listening.

Less than an hour later, you’ve got his back pinned to the door of the laundry room and his pants around his ankles, moaning contentedly as you bob your mouth around his length.

He reaches behind him for the door handle again, eyes closed, brows knitted together in concentration. The third check provides no relief; there’s still no lock, his weight is the only thing keeping it shut.

“God, baby,” Rooster breathes hard, grunting as you pull off of him and nuzzle your face between his legs instead to kitten-lick at his balls. “Fuck, I’m — I’m gonna cum.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, kneeling there with his swollen, glistening cock just grazing your chin, “On my face?”

“Fuck no, open your mouth.”

You giggle at his panicked reaction, opening obediently as he pushes at the back of your head to get your lips on him again. You moan contentedly, salted skin on your tongue, looking up at him through your wet lashes. He grits his teeth, grunting to keep his voice down as he spills urgently into your eager little mouth.

Even then, around him, you’re humming like he’s just fed you icing from the back of the spoon. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the door, breathing hard to catch his breath. You pepper teasing kisses along his thighs and push yourself to his feet, kissing once at his exposed neck.

“That was fun.” You decide, smiling sweetly up at him as he tugs his jeans back up his legs. He pants, shaking his head.

“Yeah? — That’s your idea of fun?” Bradley rubs a hand over his eyes to try to get himself to stop seeing stars. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

———

And then Jake and Apollo??? Now, she lives to taunt him when she’s sober, but she knows that there’s always a little more leeway when she’s been drinking. He’s kinder to her in her inebriated state, usually trying to get her into bed with a cool glass of water.

Not tonight. Tonight, she has royally fooled him. He took her to her room like usual, and from the second he turned to close the door behind them, he realises that she’s tricked him.

She’s not half as drunk as she was pretending to be, just tipsy enough to be causing trouble. Jake blinks at her, folding his arms across his chest. She has shimmied out of her elegant slip dress and is now laying across her bed on her stomach in nothing but her heels and her panties.

“What? — Had to get you to myself somehow,” She whines, rolling onto her back and jutting out her bottom lip at him. Jake stalks towards her slowly. Her grin grows. “You’re not upset with me, are you, daddy?”

“Oh, I’m upset,” Jake tells her slowly. She presses her lips together, unable to hold back the delighted grin on her face. “D’you think I’m going to make you cum after you just pulled that stunt?”

She giggles him and nods her head, “Probably.”

Jake grabs her ankles in each of his hands and tugs her to the edge of the bed, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he admires the intricate black detailing on her underwear. “So you were planning to be bad this whole night, huh?”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, still grinning at him.

“Stand up,” Jake demands instantly, squeezing at her ankles and letting them go. As she stands, Jake takes her hand and walks backwards to the armchair in the corner of the room. He sits and pulls her with him, bending her over his knees. “You’re going to count to fifteen, and then you’re going to get dressed and tell all of those people out there that you’re feeling a lot better.”

“Jake…” She whines in complaint. His palm comes down hard across her ass, hard enough that she knows he’ll leave a print before he’s even halfway done. “Fuck!”

“Count, honey, we don’t have all night.” Jake muses, finally joining her, smiling softly.

…

#bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #sub rosa #operation apollo #thots night (:

[stevethehairington]

If someone did a modern or "old" steddie, who would have the goofy/sleeping phone background and who would have a joint selfie/cropped version of one where the other looks particularly good? Or do you think neither would do that and they'd just have a special interest for it instead?

This is absolutely inspired by the fact that my datemate has a cropped version of a selfie they say I look really handsome in as her background and I have a (consensually taken) pic of them sleeping in one of my band tees as mine

OLDER STEDDIE MY BELOVEDS <333

omg but this is such a fun question!! it also has made me really think bc h o n e s t l y i could see them BOTH doing BOTH options here lol.

like, i absolutely could see steve having a photo of eddie like totally pretzeled up in the most uncomfortable looking position on some armchair, with his neck bent awkwardly and his legs splayed out and arms tucked under his armpits because somehow that man can fall asleep anywhere in any position at any time if he's tired enough, and in this particular photo maybe he's just gotten back from a show at the hideout (or if you subscribe to the corroded coffin makes it big and eddie becomes a hotshot rockstar hc then in their tourbus/hotel after a show or he's just gotten home from tour). his hair's a mess and his mouth hangs open and he's drooling a little maybe and he's definitely snoring (because the older they've gotten, the more common snoring has gotten in their bedroom lol).

and then eddie absolutely has a photo of him and steve as his phone background. maybe it's taken when they went on vacation to the beach and the waves are crashing in the distance behind them, a couple of palm trees too; or maybe it's the two of them decked out in their hiking gear (because steve loves to hike, and eddie loves steve) from that time they climbed to the top of the mountain so they could catch the sunrise at the peak; or maybe it's the two of them tucked up in bed, wrapped in each other's arms and basking in the afterglow, hair messy and cheeks pink but eyes sparkling and smiles so big and so genuine. whatever it is, wherever it is, the photo is one where the camera's probably a little bit too close to their faces, and their heads are bent together, cheeks smushed against one another's so they both fit into the frame. maybe they're both wearing matching grins, the happiest they've ever been. maybe steve is kissing eddie's cheek oh so sweetly. maybe eddie's licking steve's cheek like the menace he is, while steve scrunches his nose in shocked faux disgust. maybe they're looking into each other's eyes, tips of their noses pressed together, so in love. maybe they're kissing. no matter the pose, it's definitely a little blurry because whoever was taking the photo (eddie) was too eager to catch the photo to worry about making sure it was perfect, but that adds to the charm.

that being said, i could also TOTALLY see it the other way around too!! steve with the adorably sappy photo of the two of them together - maybe a photo robin took of them at the pool, eddie up on steve's shoulders flashing a thumbs up and steve holding onto his ankles smiling wide, dustin and lucas in the background waiting for their game of chicken to begin. maybe it's the two of them sitting around a campfire with smores ingredients strewn around them and marshmallows on sticks in hand, eddie's got chocolate staining his mouth and steve's got a streak of gooey marshmallow on his cheek. maybe it's the two of them sitting on the porch of their home, the one they made together, wrapped around one another on their cozy little swing while the sun sets in the distance.

and if that's steve's backgound, then that means eddie has the photo of steve looking totally silly. maybe one of him with some of his hair pulled back into one of those teeny tiny little ponytails at the top of his head, the rest curling around his neck, a terrycloth headband pulling it away from his face that's covered in some green goop (one of robin's famous homemade facemasks that she (and steve) swears by), his cheeks are puffed up and he's pulling at his ears like a monkey and there's mirth in his eyes and eddie was laughing as he took the photo so it's a little shaky, but steve looks so funny and so cute that eddie had to make it his lockscreen. or maybe it's a photo eddie caught of steve right before he was about to sneeze. his face was all screwed up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, with that silly mustache he'd been soooo gung ho about growing right there on his top lip that just added to how ridiculous the photo looks. steve had begged eddie to delete the photo, but eddie refused, going so far as to set it as his lockscreen so that he, and the rest of the world, could be reminded that underneath it all, steve harrington was just as funny looking as the rest of them.

#asks #anonymous #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mack writes #macks ficlets

[missmaywemeetagain]

A Million Little Heartaches: Pandora's Box 💔💫❤️‍🔥

A/N: Hi, my darlin's! I was feeling a little hesitant about posting my first non-EP fic, but I got over myself lol. This one is a bit of an experiment as it's not told in chronological order, and we'll see if I continue it based on inspiration and interest. Please let me know your thoughts! As always, they are so appreciated and what helps keep me motivated a lot of the time, especially as I'm trying new things. I really hope you enjoy it and can't wait to hear what you think. 💗

ALSO, I'm not sure if tumblr has changed its algorithm or what, but I know I'm not seeing people's posts in my feed like I used to. Turn on notifications for me to not miss anything and if you like this, it would be super helpful if you reblog this post! Thank you babies! 💗

Key Tropes: Angst, right person(s)-wrong time, star-crossed lovers, slow burn kinda? friends to enemies to friends to lovers?(LOL), forbidden love, second chance love

💥 Head's up! My first Scarf Universe exclusive (Red Scarf) is set to come out THIS WEEK for my Patreons! It's utterly filthy and indulgent, so if you are interested, you can join my Patreon community HERE to get access! 💥

A Million Little Heartaches

Part 1: Pandora’s Box

March 2026

I’ve curled my legs up under me in an oversized armchair, staring aimlessly at the fire. My empty wine glass is precariously balanced in my hand as I am hypnotized by the flames. Liam’s angry outburst shocked everyone, and his words still ring like poison in my ears:

You abandoned me.

I run through all the things I could’ve said in response instead of just standing there speechless as he ripped me into pieces in front of everybody.

Namely, you made your choice, Liam. And it wasn’t me.

It was never me.

Good ole Lily, forever the consolation prize, I muse, shaking my head.

There’s a hollow feeling in my heart that hasn’t been there for a long, long time.

“Mind if I join you?” Jake’s rumbling voice startles me out of my staring contest with the fire.

Oh god, now? Seriously? is what I’m thinking, but I manage a cordial nod instead, setting my empty glass on the side table next to me.

He sits in the chair facing mine. A glance over reminds me he’s a man now, not a boy, the firelight hitting the weathered but not unattractive lines on what used to be a baby face. The peach fuzz which had tickled my cheek so long ago is now a short, dark beard on a sharper, less rounded jaw. His once sandy hair has darkened some and is peppered with grey. He has aged well.

I can’t imagine how he must be looking at me after all these years, at the changes he must see. I know I’m not the girl I was. I look back at the fire.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a moment of silence.

I roll my eyes over to him and huff a bitter laugh. “Does it matter?”

I shouldn’t have said it like that—Liam’s freak out wasn’t Jake’s fault—but everything feels so fucking raw that I don’t have the wherewithal for a filter.

“It always has,” he says quietly.

The words hang there between us, heavy. There’s a poignancy and deeper meaning to them that slaps me out of my pity party.

“Excuse me?” I breathe out, blinking. My heart starts racing, like a hummingbird trapped in my ribcage.

He doesn’t get to say my feelings have always mattered. Not him. Not the guy who dragged me to hell and back because he was too much of a coward to let me down easy. Not the one who I spent nearly six years trying desperately to know and wishing for him to know me, too. Who I tried, only somewhat successfully, to forge a friendship with after it seemed all between us was well and truly done.

Jake shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking at the fire before he finds what he needs there to bring himself to look back at me.

He only knows a fraction of what he put me through, or at least I think he does. He was ever the master at shutting me out, so it’s always been hard to know what he’s thinking or feeling without having to pry it out of him with a crowbar.

His voice echoes in my head, a long-forgotten memory: I guess I’m just the kind of person who hides my feelings.

An understatement.

This makes it a surprise when he looks straight at me with those warm brown eyes that used to melt me into the floor and says, “Your feelings have always mattered.”

Maybe it’s the wine, or the blowup with Liam, but my filter disappears completely. There’s a latent, hot anger that boils to the surface.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You, of all people, think my feelings have always mattered?” I throw back at him, scoffing.

He looks as though I’ve slapped him, and if I wasn’t so upset, I might try to backtrack. But I spent six years of my adolescence trying to shield him from my feelings, and as an adult, I don’t have time for that shit anymore.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he recovers, looking back at the fire.

I’m surprised, to say the least. It’s not as though we hadn’t talked about it back in the day, at least somewhat, but I never let him know just how deeply he hurt me. I never told him about the panic attacks, the intense depressions, or the manic feelings I’d get from just a morsel of attention from him. No, I’d buried all that for the sake of our “friendship” or whatever it was.

Part of me knows it’s stupid to try and rehash things that we put to rest so long ago. I shouldn’t hold it against him—we were just teenagers—but it wasn’t until my twenties that I finally grasped just how much Jake fucked me up. He made me think that if you love someone enough, they can treat you however they want and it doesn’t matter, and if it’s “meant to be” then someone can string you along indefinitely without consequence. I’d been so convinced we were these star-crossed lovers that had such a deep thread of connection that we’d someday figure it out. But someday never came.

Liam had. Liam pulled me from the ashes of my heartbreak and showed me real love. Or so I’d hoped. I’d hoped so much that I’d ignored and excused all the similarities between the way he and Jake treated me. But he had loved me and risked it all for me at one time. I mattered to him, to a fault.

But with Jake, I’m never sure I mattered. I always felt on thin ice, or at least that’s how I remember it. But memory warps over time. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ve been wrong about all of it.

God, he still has me running circles around myself.

“Yeah, you do deserve it, a little,” is what I finally settle on, but it comes out gentler than I want it to.

He gives me a familiar sardonic half-smile.

Ah, there he is, the little shit. It was a look that twenty years ago would set my heart a-flutter on a good day and made me want to throttle him on a bad one. Some things never change.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is my need to shove him past his comfort zone with all my thoughts and feelings.

“Sometimes, I’m still not sure I mattered to you at all.” The words catch in my throat, giving away more than I want to.

His eyes snap back to mine. “How can you say that?” he asks with a surprising level of hurt in his voice.

I’m taken aback. “Jake, I don’t think you entirely understand the way you…” I stop myself and shake my head.

“The way I what? Say it,” he challenges, uncharacteristically.

I take a deep breath. “The way you broke my heart completely. How I spent months—no, years—trying to figure out what I had done that was so bad that you didn’t have or couldn’t really admit you had feelings for me, or why I was so repulsive you couldn’t bear to be with me. You had me so tied in knots I could hardly breathe.”

“Lily, you were never—” he starts, shaking his head, but I don’t listen, plowing right through whatever he thinks he needs to say.

“And then Liam came into the picture and helped me heal, and still I was so desperate for your approval, for us to be friends. But you always, always kept me at arm’s length. I could never figure any of it out. I still wonder if it was all one-sided and I was just a crazy little girl who manufactured this epic love story in her head,” I ramble out, shaking my head.

I’m saying too much, I know I am, but what the fuck does it matter now, after all this time? I have no need to impress him anymore.

   He shutters down, and it’s so entirely familiar that I have to laugh. “That. Right there,” I point, “is the same thing you did to me 27 years ago. You could never let me in, could you? As much as I hoped you would, as close as I swear I got sometimes, this brick wall is what made me question everything about us. It always has.”

His eyes widen as he’s called out so viciously, his hands tensing then releasing the arms on the chair. I let him sit in it for a moment before I drop the last bombshell, the one I’m sure will ruin the precarious balance between us:

“You were my first love, Jake, and I was so in love with you it hurt. God, I was so convinced we were connected in some timeless, deep, soulmates kind of way. And sometimes you did things that seemed to confirm that, but then you’d turn around and…well, I tried so hard to understand why you didn’t feel it, too. But I was young and stupid and obsessed, I guess,” I laugh, looking into the fire. “I finally just had to accept I was never gonna figure you out or understand why you didn’t love me back.”

He’s quiet for a long moment and I’m almost afraid he’s going to get up and walk away.

“Sorry, I guess old habits die hard. Here I am, still blasting you with all my feelings, 25-plus-years later,” I chuckle. “No wonder you never wanted to be with m—”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he interrupts.

My head snaps back to him. “What?”

“I never meant to hurt you like that. I never meant to drive you to…Liam,” he says, with a frustrated bitterness in his tone that surprises me.

“Okay…?” I’m not sure where this is going, but my heart kicks up again.

“I told you back then I liked you,” he says blatantly, as if it were ever that simple between us.

I can’t help but laugh. “Did you, really? You told me in different ways how you were ‘gonna ask me out, but…’. And there was always a ‘but.’ And it was never in the present tense. I heard from other people that you liked me, sure, but you never really told me. Not in a way that felt like I wasn’t forcing something out of you that you were ashamed of or just telling me to save face. And it was always me who came to you. Always. You had a thousand chances and never followed through. We never even kissed, Jake! You kissed everyone but me. What was I supposed to think?”

“I-I-I…damn it, Lily,” he growls. “I couldn’t.”

 “Excuse me? You very much ‘could,’ you just didn’t want to. And that’s fine, you never owed it to me to reciprocate my feelings. Just don’t pretend—”

“Of course, I had feelings for you!” he yells.

I’m stunned into silence.

“I had feelings for you since we were 12! You were the first girl I ever really thought of in that way and I had no idea how to deal with it. And the moment you showed any interest in me I panicked and pushed you away. And I regretted it after and thought I’d ruined everything, but you came back, and I-I-I did it again. And again. Because my feelings for you scared the shit out of me.”

My heart is jackhammering now. I can barely breathe. “Why?”

“You were special. I couldn’t—I couldn’t ruin that…or you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! You didn’t want to ‘ruin me’ so you broke my heart, over and over?”

“I didn’t deserve you. You were way too good for me and way out of my league.”

Flabbergasted, I blink at him. The pure insanity of this conversation has me whirling.

“But you kept flirting with me anyway, leading me on? You’d hug me, hold my hand…Lord, you even snuggled me and popped a fucking boner against me at that party freshman year…” I babble.

A blush floods his cheeks. “I was only 15, I-I-I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You knew enough to fuck Talia.”

He looks like I’ve struck him again, but I can see in his eyes he knows I’m right. Talia would forever be a sore spot between us.

“I was young. And dumb.”

“No shit. And it doesn’t track. You did the same with Tina, Heather, and pretty much any other girl who showed the slightest bit of interest in you. Everyone except me.”

“I know. I was wrong. I was in a…bad place.”

“I practically handed myself to you on a platter and you humiliated me. How do you think it felt that I was the only one you never…you just kept me dangling on a string,” I say, shaking with anger.

“I know,” he whispers, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t…”

“Sure,” I shake my head and look away. I don’t know why I care so much. I shouldn’t. This is all ancient history, and maybe it is Liam’s doing for sucking me back into the past tonight, but for some reason it all feels like it happened yesterday.

“I knew it was wrong, that I was treating you badly, a-a-and that’s why I found God. I wanted to be better…for you.”

Something cracks inside of me at the gesture. It doesn’t make any sense—why would he do that for me? My breath starts to falter a bit.

I remember he had changed dramatically mid-sophomore year, turning into a nicer, happier, and kinder version of himself. He’d stopped going after every girl in sight and wasn’t blatantly ignoring me anymore. We’d become friends again. I’d thought he was swept up in wanting to hang with the cooler, older Christian kids in the group, bowing to a weird form of peer pressure, just as I had done.

Of course, my “conversion” had not stuck after everything that happened later, but that’s beside the point.

Slowly, pieces start falling into place. Things I’d never considered.  

“You didn’t. You did it for…me?” I say breathlessly. “That’s a pretty drastic thing for a 16-year-old to do…”

He nods.

A shiver runs down my spine.

“Why…why would you do something like that for me?” I hold my breath and quell the trembling of my hands by clasping them together.

In the heavy pause, it feels like all the air gets sucked out of the room, and everything else around us warps and stops.

“Because I was completely in love with you.”

My heart stops. “What?” I whisper.

This can’t be real.

But his eyes are as open and pleading as I’ve ever seen them, begging me to finally understand what he couldn’t impart all those years ago.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I manage to choke out.

A pained look crosses his face. “I was too late.”

It’s like I’m 16 again, the way my heart is ready to explode while simultaneously being yanked from my chest. The air whooshes out of my lungs and I can’t bring myself to speak. All I can do is look over at him with questioning eyes.

“Me being such an asshole pushed you straight into his arms and by the time I came to my senses, it was too late. You’d fallen for him, even though he was with someone else,” he says bitterly.

He is not wrong. The whole reason Liam and I became friends in the first place was he listened to my heartbreak over Jake.

“So, I tried to be your friend instead. That was what you wanted, right? I thought maybe I could get closer to you and change your mind, talk some sense into you.”

I find my voice. “What are you even talking about? Liam and I were very much not together that spring and summer because of Melissa. You had the perfect chance, but you started dating Tiffany right when school got out.”

His jaw sets, clenches. “Oh, come on. It was beyond obvious you weren’t over him. So, yeah, when Tiffany showed interest, I gave it a chance. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You probably don’t remember how I messaged you all the time. How our conversations got longer a-a-and deeper. How I begged you to call me.”

Vague memories flash back to me. “I did call you. And I definitely would’ve remembered you telling me this!” I shake my head.

He has no idea how this revelation would have changed everything. God, I can’t breathe.

            “I tried to feel you out that fall, but you were pretty focused on Liam.”

            Mind racing, I try to remember how it all went down. My attraction to Liam had been all-consuming, made worse by the way we desperately tried to keep our hands off each other when Melissa left for college. We weren’t officially together, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that we were mad about each other. Between that, the play, and keeping my grades up, things were intense that fall, to say the least. But there had been some weird moments with Jake that I’d tried to brush off as friendly at the time, but maybe they weren’t.

            “Friendsgiving.” It pops into my head suddenly, and I look at him with wide eyes. “I couldn’t figure it out—you went out of your way to take me home that night, then you were so teasing and flirty. We sat in my driveway for like half an hour. You couldn’t keep your hands off me—tickling me and putting your arm around me. I thought it was strange…but you were with Tiffany. I convinced myself I was imagining it.”

            It starts to dawn on me that perhaps my instincts had been right this whole damn time.

            I ramble as I recall more, “You were so obsessed about Mick having to kiss me for the play. We talked about how weird it would be if you had to understudy and it was us who had to kiss instead.”

            Jake looks at me sheepishly. “I wanted to kiss you so badly.”

            “God, why didn’t you?!”

            “You were in love with Liam!”

            “You are still such an idiot. Did you not hear anything I’ve said to you? If you’d kissed me, it wouldn’t have mattered. You were always there in the back of my mind. It was always you.” My hands are trembling at the admission, at how easily I would’ve folded if he had come for me.

            His eyes narrow, almost incredulously, as if he can’t believe it.

            “That’s all I ever wanted, Jake—for you to care enough to show me, or tell me, or anything at all! To fight for me…for us. But you never had the balls to do it, and that’s why we never happened. Not because of Liam. Not because I didn’t feel the same way. Because of you,” I say, voice shaking as hard as my hands.

            I’m coming apart at the seams, unravelling for the second time tonight because of men who never truly understood me or put me first. Refusing to cry in front of Jake and let him know just how much he’d changed with his inaction, I stand too quickly, wobbling on my feet.

            Jake jumps up to steady me, one hand at my forearm and the other at my waist, touching me for the first time in over 20 years. My stupid body responds with a jolt of electricity now just as it did then, like a phantom limb come to life. Logic tells me to pull away.

I don’t.

            He steps closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair, “I feel like all I’ve ever done is hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

            Oh, god. His proximity is dizzying, a reminder of moments long gone. A whiff of cologne. The way his thumb gently rubs the dip of my waist through my dress. The not-so-subtle way he lures me in closer.

            I don’t understand. How is it after the decades of life that have occurred, after having my heart swell and break and swell again with different types of love, that this man still can send me reeling?

            And he’s right—all he’s ever done is hurt me and tie me in knots. Being near him is like being edged in the most painful of ways because there is never any payoff. He had seen to that.

            There is something inherently cruel in the fate of it all. How the moment I had moved on all those years ago, the moment I released my hope of being with him and found another, that was when he figured his shit out. The worst part used to be feeling like he’d never felt the same about me, but knowing now that he loved me somehow makes everything ache even worse than it did before.

            Tears sting the corners of my eyes, even though I promised myself long ago I’d never shed another tear over Jake. I hate he will forever be the one that got away. The one who I’d never felt closure with, like a scab that crusts over but won’t heal underneath. As stupid as it sounds, there has been a part of me since the moment he so sweetly helped me solve a math problem in the 7th grade that has unwillingly left a piece of my heart in his hands ever since, no matter how many others there have been to take his place in between.

            And I hate him for that. I hate him even more now that I know I was always right about us from the start, about the thread of connection that bound us to each other almost 30 years ago.

“Does it even bother you? The ‘what could have been?’ Did it cross your mind that maybe everything would be different if you’d just said something? Or did you just forget about me, about all of it?” I whisper angrily.

God knows, I haven’t.

Furious and frazzled, I press my hands into his chest to push away. It’s a terrible move because his large hand covers mine, pinning it to him. He’s warm through his dress shirt and his heart beats wildly under my palm. My eyes fly up to meet his.

“I think about it all the time. More than I should. But God works in mysterious ways,” he says, as if that explains it all.

I roll my eyes. Another wonderful excuse. “I guess he does,” I add sarcastically.  Extricating myself from him, I immediately feel clearer, but part of me wants nothing more to feel his touch on me again. I shake the feeling off.

I had abandoned religion and the guilt and bigotry that came along with it the moment I got to college, when I realized just how much it had fucked my young brain up. Not shockingly, the religious friends who’d taken such offense when I’d gotten together with Liam were the same ones who quickly fell out of my life once they realized I wasn’t going to tow the line. Jake had only dug his heels in deeper into his religion after that, with Tiffany and his cookie-cutter perfect family and church going ways, and now it crosses my mind that it’s all because of me.

Don’t be stupid.

He’s waiting on me to say something. It takes me a moment to absorb the fact that he admitted thinking about me more than he should. This good and pious Christian man was thinking about me when he should have been thinking about his wife.

But I am in no place to judge. Not about this.

I want to know what salacious thoughts have run through his mind about me, but I can’t bring myself to ask. Part of me wants to utterly ruin him in all the ways I couldn’t when we were teenagers. A heat gathers low in my belly at the thought, at his nearness.

Romantic and physical chemistry is no joke, I realize. It’s like my pheromones were preprogrammed by the universe to be attracted to his, and by the cautiously heated look he’s giving me now, I’m wondering if it’s always been the same for him.

One of my biggest regrets about us, since the beginning, was the question that if we had even just kissed once and got it over with, would it have broken the tension between us like a summer rainstorm breaks the heat? Would we have gotten it out of our system and figured out if whatever chemistry we had was real or just something we’d worked up in our imaginations?

But it’s too late for that. The past can’t be changed. Now the ‘what if’s’ that plagued me for all these years hurt worse than before, knowing that with one stupid admission or one kiss all those years ago, we could have had it all. Maybe we would have been the high school sweethearts who got married and annoy our 2.5 kids with stories about what an idiot their dad was until he’d finally told me how he felt.

There would’ve been no me-and-Liam, or him leaving me because the world had gone to shit. I wouldn’t have met my husband. All of it, an entire life I’ll never know, flashes before my eyes and nearly brings me to my knees.

And while I don’t subscribe to his God, I do think the universe puts things in our path. But what was the point of all this, then—of us never being the “us” we both know we wanted it to be? I just don’t see why this thing can’t seem to die and fade into the ether. He’s like a bad penny I can’t shake.

At least with Liam, there was closure. We had loved and dated and all of the milestones that go with that. Knowing Jake loved me doesn’t make me truly feel any better, other than the fact I know I wasn’t a delusional, lovesick teenager.

But he loved a version of me that’s grown up into someone different, just as I begrudgingly loved a version of him that I’d made up in my head to be better than he was.

I’ve been quiet too long. “Why?” It pops out of my mouth unwillingly. “Why do you still think of me?”

“Do you still think of me?” I expect him to shirk away from the question, but he flips it on me so fast I have whiplash.

I close my mouth, my eyes darting away, answering his question.

He nods. “Then you know.”

Does that mean he replays fuzzy memories of interlocking his fingers with mine or pulling me too close in a dance? He sees the stolen, meaningful glances in his mind’s eye? He thinks about the multitude of chances he had to press his lips to mine but didn’t and what may have happened if it had gone farther than that? He thinks of how if he and I became a “we” it would’ve completely altered the course of our lives?

I have trouble thinking he ponders any of that.

But if he loved me like he says he did…

The hollow ache in my heart is back with a vengeance, erasing all hope I had at getting out of here relatively unscathed.

“Maybe we were just destined to hurt each other. Maybe we’ve always been bad for each other,” I say indignantly instead of voicing all the other thoughts buzzing in my head. But it feels true, nonetheless.

I watch him shake his head rather vehemently. He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to the punch.

“But too bad we never had the chance to find out for sure,” I add with venom. After this, I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling like he stole that chance from me.

We were babies. Give the guy a break, a tiny voice in the back of my head chimes in.

            Unfortunately, I’m a little too emotionally wrecked to let a silly thing like logic get me back on track and remind me I’m a goddamned adult.

            Star-crossed lovers aren’t real. “Meant to be” isn’t real. Threads of fate tying us together in inexplicable ways aren’t real. What’s real is hormones and youth and cowardice and terrible timing. What’s real are jobs and spouses and children.

            Then why can’t I shake the feeling that this isn’t even close to being the end for us? It makes no sense.

            It never has.

            I grab my purse. Furious and regretful, I can’t be around him anymore, which is made evident by the fact that I want to stay so badly, even if it means my heart is bleeding out in front of him. But I have more self-respect now than I had when I was 16, and I certainly am not going to cry in front of him.

            “Goodbye Jake. I hope your life is everything you want it to be. Give Tiffany my best.” It’s a dig, to be sure. We both know Tiffany wants nothing to do with me, and now I finally know why. I turn and walk away, quickly, escaping my past down the darkened hallway towards the bathrooms.

            “Lily, wait,” he commands from behind me, catching up and grabbing my hand. Shocked at his tone of voice and forwardness, I have no choice to spin back to him. His eyes are blazing.

            “What? What is there left to say?” I say, my voice cracking with emotion. “That one of my biggest regrets is that we never made this work, this—this silly pseudo-romance from our teens? That I hate how much this matters to me, even now, even though I haven’t seen you in years?”

            He advances, his eyes never leaving mine, and a small huff escapes my lips as my back hits the wall. It’s hard not to notice he’s broader and taller than he used to be as his body comes so close to pressing against mine. Every one of my nerves sparks to attention at his sudden proximity, a buzzing static electricity.

His hand clasps my neck, the rough pad of his thumb trailing along my jaw. I have no choice but to keep looking up at him, into those darkened brown eyes.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

Shock precedes a pool of fire low in my belly when he boldly brings his thumb to the center of my lips and slowly drags it down. My lips part and a small moan escapes them. I’m vaguely aware of my purse hitting the floor with a thunk.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago,” he says definitively. His warm breath tickles my cheek where his mouth hovers too close to mine.

As my body fully kicks into overdrive, I’m reminded of what I’ve always known: I’m incapable of resisting Jake Lawson. One last rational thought pushes through the fire that is rapidly consuming me.

“This is a bad idea,” I pant, my eyes scanning his face.

“A terrible one,” he agrees, and when he nods, his nose brushes against mine.

I expect a crash of lips and teeth, but instead his soft lips brush mine tantalizingly, dragging in a way that sends an explosion of heat through my chest. The warmth of our breath mingles, and I can’t stop the way my hands instinctively reach for the lapels of his jacket. His hand on my neck pulls me closer and when our lips finally press together in earnest, oh, god, it’s everything I’d ever hoped it would be.

Instead of breaking away, we are pulled into each other by some unknown force that makes my entire body tingle from head to toe. Jake deepens the kiss, and I turn as pliable as putty in his arms, wondering how it is possible that we went this damn long without doing this. His fingers tighten in my hair, eliciting a groan as his mouth opens and his tongue persuasively brushes against my lips. Granting permission, I open to him further and our tongues roll gingerly against each other.

Something ignites in me that hasn’t in a long, long time. It’s a blast of desire and truth so strong it threatens to undo me. It’s different than pure passion—there’s a yearning, a need, a rightness lacing every touch between us. And based on the way he clings to me now, I have no doubt he feels it, too, this sense of fate that we were always destined to end up here.

Every instinct I have wants to feed the fire that is swirling in my belly, but the last thread of rationality left in me reminds me that I shouldn’t let this go too far. It has gone too far already. I force myself to pull away, which is like prying two strong magnets off each other. I can’t move more than an inch, just enough to separate our lips. I’m too dizzy with the smell of him and what must be a lack of oxygen. Or maybe it’s because my entire world feels upended.

His forehead rests on mine, his thumb caressing the hollow of my throat. “Shit,” he sighs out with a shudder, his breath tickling my face as he struggles to control himself.

For once in my life, I have no doubt of what he’s feeling. The way he says that one word tells me he is every bit as blindsided, connected, and aroused as I am. But it’s more than just that. A tether of knowing has tightened between us. It’s so overwhelming I feel like I might cry.

As we stand pressed close together in this dark hallway, I don’t think either of us truly expected it to feel like this. Like everything that’s been wrong between us was because we resisted this bond, a power that feels beyond anything I could have imagined. In mere moments, we’ve confirmed what both of us have inherently known but tried to ignore for almost three decades.

That’s when I realize we’ve opened Pandora’s box. We can never go back.

“Jake…” I choke, trying to get the words out, but they won’t come.

“I know,” he responds solemnly, and I have no doubt he has come to the same conclusion as I have:

We are in deep trouble.

*

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#i really hope people see this! #ngl i'm nervous #y'all mean the world and i hope you enjoy! #a million little heartaches #part 1 #pandora's box #lily x jake #lily x liam #romance #angst #star crossed lovers #second chance at love #madisyn may #missmaywemeetagain #elvis #elvis x reader

[lets-just-daydream]

hi!!! could you write mista comforting a team member he has a crush on? i’ve been having a rough time with confidence and i love him sooo much lol. i completely understand if this request makes you uncomfortable!! thanks anyway <3

shit fam im back

*

It was a really difficult mission. Yes you got it done, yes it could have been cleaner and yes it could have been more discrete. But you got it done.

You made it back into the Passione mansion and dropped onto an armchair, year body feeling like lead. You did not want to face a debriefing with Giorno right now. You just knew he would want every detail from you firsthand and that was not something you could handle.

Lately, it seemed like your job was getting harder and you were struggling to keep your head above water. You loved your team. You loved Giorno, he could be a hardass but he took care of you all. You loved Trish, she always had your back and she felt like the best sister you'd ever had. And… Mista. You loved him. You loved him differently to how you loved Trish and Giorno. He just got you, he was extra nice to you and he was really pretty. Like, really really pretty.

You let out a sigh as you thought of him, the thought that maybe one day you'd be lucky enough for him to feel the same. Not likely. But it was a nice thought. A fleeting thought. Then you remembered that you were wondering about your future in Passione. Did you truly belong here?

"You look like you're on some wild emotional rollercoaster," a sudden voice chuckled.

You looked up to see Mista looking down at you with a glass of water in hand. His iconic hat had been abandoned somewhere and you took a moment to appreciate the thick curls on his head. So pretty…

"Yeah I'm just… going over the mission in my head before I see Giorno," you fibbed.

"Ah," Mista hummed, sitting on the armchair beside yours and handing you the water. "How was it?"

You took a few gulps and put the glass down. "It was a shitshow," you replied glumly. "Feels like all my missions are shitshows these days."

Mista leaned forward and clasped his hands together as he listened.

"I'm…" You whispered, hesitating. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. You and Giorno, and even Trish. You're naturals at this but I… I just suck at this."

Mista's brows furrowed and he gulped before resting a hand atop yours. "I totally get it. But I- we love you. You're great and without you we'd fall apart. A couple of bad days is nothing."

You looked up at Mista with a smile as your heart fluttered.

"I believe in you. And I'd hate it if you left me," Mista said quietly.

"I'd hate to leave you behind, too," you confessed.

Mista locked eyes with you and he let out a nervous chuckle. "And Giorno and Trish, yeah."

"Well yeah," you said slowly, leaning closer to him. "But you especially."

Mista matched your leaning body until you were almost face-to-face and he gulped. "Really?"

You nodded and let your eyes flutter shut, your heart beating rapidly. You felt Mista's breath ghost over your lips and his nose touch yours softly.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway and you and Mista shot apart, breathing heavily as you glared at the intruder.

Giorno stood in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned on the wood of the entry.

"I've been waiting for you for a debrief," Giorno said coolly, but with a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Come fill me in and then you can get back to… whatever it is you were doing." He turned on his heel and you knew that was your queue to follow.

You shot Mista an apologetic look and he grinned back sheepishly, not trusting his voice.

"I promise I'll be right back," you said, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

You heard Giorno call your name once again and you rushed away, leaving Mista to touch the spot on his cheek you'd just kissed.

#mista x reader #guido mista #guido mista x reader #jojo fic #jojo fanfiction #jojo fanfic #jojo x reader #red writes