#this is not making packing any easier. thank you body

[random-like-ifs]

Like if you are ever suddenly and very unhelpfully filled with a cold, heavy sense of dread. 

#nerves #anxiety #dread #emotions #travel anxiety #preparedness #throws the whole day off sometimes you know? #this is not making packing any easier. thank you body #random like-ifs

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

#natasha romanov #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Black widow #Black widow x reader #Scarlet witch #Scarlet witch x reader #Wandanat #Wandanat x reader #Marvel #Jennifer walters #She-hulk

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagine: Ghost giving you the shovel talk after Soap and you made your relationship official

It's the evening, you two are smoking outside in companionable silence, taking in the star-spangled sky. Suddenly his voice pulls you out of your daydreaming.

"So... you n' Johnny, eh?”

You feel an ominous shiver run down your spine - you do not like the turn this conversation is taking. His tone is steady, like it usually is, but it means nothing when that specter is involved. He could be slicing a throat and his voice wouldn't waver a iota.

If there was anything you learned about The infamous Ghost, in the absence of his identity and the face beneath the mask, it was that the names he used for the people he considered his family were anything but random. Soap was the most common way he refered to his Sergeant, but a Johnny could slip here and there. "Johnny" was personal; intimate; vulnerable; and possessive all at once. Not in the way an insecure lover would act - although...? Maybe...? -, but in the way a pack member would bare his fangs at a newcomer to protect his mates.

There was something animalistic buried within him that would resurface from time to time, when the risk was too great, when the survival of the 141 or of any of its members was jeopardized. Something you would not risk to vex. Simon was extremely protective behind closed doors, it wasn’t a scoop, but you thought yourself safe from his fangs... or at least you did until now.

"Yeah?"

How you hate the interrogation in your voice. As if you were seeking his permission. Like a child knowing they're asking for too much but doing it anyway.

You busy yourself with your cigarette, trying to look unfazed.

"He may sound like a fuckin' playboy most of the times, but he's actually a sensible kinda fella. Doesn't go around givin' his heart to just anyone, y'know?"

You gulp. Take a deep breath. The only way out is through. Might as well be done with it.

"So, is this the part where you swear that no one will ever find my body if I hurt him?"

You're proud of how casual you managed to sound.

He actually chuckles at that. A relaxed, raspy, unbothered kind of sound. Maybe you will walk away with your life tonight after all.

"Got it all figured out, don't ya? But that's good. Saves us some time."

He tosses his cigarette and, for the first time since you’ve been outside, he turns to you and look you in the eye. His stare is as intense as ever.

"We're in agreement, then? Ya'll treat mah boy well?"

"Wouldn't dream of anything else."

"Good lass."

A pause, then:

"This works both way, y'know that, right?"

"Hmm?"

Too busy celebrating your escape from the valley of the shadow of death, you haven't been completely paying attention.

"If he gives ya trouble, I'll knock some sense into that thick head of his."

You look at him again, your face beaming and your chest tingling with a newfound joy.

"Thank you."

You smile, unable to stop the motion of your lips. Your gratefulness is not for the threat he proclaimed, but for the friendship he extends to you.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

Suddenly a burly arm wraps around your neck.

"What were ya guys talkin' about!? You’ve been there for ages." Pouts Soap.

Glancing over at Ghost, you can see that Johnny has tried to grab him by the neck too, with a lukewarm success, considering the height difference between the two of them.

"Nothin' ye need to concern yerself with", retorts Simon, lying as easily as he breathes.

As Johnny turns to you in hopes of finding an easier target that will confess everything, you nearly miss the conspiratorial wink Ghost sends your way. The action is so far removed from his usual character, you understand that the discrepancy is made to amuse you. So you giggle.

Tonight the sky is full of stars, and your heart full of bliss, the way you feel like your chest might burst with happiness at any moment, with those two men at your side.

A/N: Platonic!Reader x Ghost my beloved 😫 🖤 Tried to make Ghost the less OOC as possible, as usual >_< but man its not a walk in the fookin park.

Trouple potential tho? 👀 sorry not sorry, I can't help it, I love the ambiguity...

#mine #cod imagine #cod hcs #cod headcanons #ghost headcanons #soap x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty headcanons #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mctavish x reader #is this a fic. a hc. or an imagine #idk anything anymore #spent waaaay too much time on this. it was supposed to be 3 paragraphs long 💀 #cod fanfic #cod x reader #x reader #cod fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #soap fanfic

[lipglossanon]

December Winds

.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜

Priest!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

dedicated to you 💀 anon! 💜 I hope you like it!

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, religious connotations, Leon POV, dirty talk, nipple teasing, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (m receiving 🫣), unprotected sex, creampie, kissing, biting, slight blood

kinda beta read by my friend Rex 💜 (only like 80% so any mistakes are my own 😅 )

title from December Winds by Nox Arcana

.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜

After Spain, Leon quits. As he tells the president, “I’ve seen enough.” And he meant it. He packs up everything, quietly bids goodbye to the few coworkers he respects and leaves out from Washington DC, praying he’ll never see the place again. 

He searches for a job that’s a little less stressful and a lot more reclusive. He stumbles across an online ad looking for a live-in priest for a small rundown chapel buried in the middle of the Appalachian mountains. A quick search on google maps yields the exact results he’s hoping for—there’s nothing around for miles and miles. 

It’s a cinch to get ordained online and even easier to order the cassock and Roman collar. He already has plenty of black shirts, pants, and even shoes, meaning it’s no sweat at all for him to look the part by the end of the week. 

When he arrives at the small church, there’s a handful of elderly people gathered to give him a short walk through the place. They leave him with plenty of homemade food as well as their phone numbers for the cracked rotary phone in the office in case he needs any help.

The months roll by and slowly bleeds into a couple of years. He always sees the same handful of people at service, sometimes joined by visiting family members, but always a small congregation which is what he prefers. This year hasn’t been any different, that is until a knock rings out in the empty vestibule drawing him up short as he lays out pamphlets for next week's Christmas service. 

Pulling open the heavy oak doors, he’s surprised to see a new face. You stand there shivering in the cold, jacketed arms clutching your middle. 

“H-hi,” you give him a bright smile despite your chattering teeth, “m-my car’s s-s-stuck in the s-snow and—“

Before you can finish, Leon’s opening the door wider, feeling chill bumps race across his arms as the cold winter air gusts past you and into the church. 

“Please, come in,” he steps back so you’ll follow. 

Once inside, he shuts and bolts the door closed. 

“I’m s-so glad someone’s here,” you laugh.

Leon watches you, expression stoic even though internally he’s cataloging every single thing about you with heavy interest. 

He sees your smile tremble a little, your own gaze roving his face. 

“I’m s-sorry to bother you,” you rub your hands together for warmth, “if I c-could just make a call, I’ll b-be out of your hair in n-no time.”

You pull your cellphone out with a frown, “I h-haven’t had service in miles.”

Leon glances down at your hands before looking back up into your face, nervousness radiating from your body language. 

He turns, talking loud enough for you to hear as you follow behind him, “Phone’s in the office. If you can’t reach anyone, I have a number to a local mechanic who can help tow you out.”

“Thank you so much,” your voice sounds relieved, “I hate bothering you, but I really appreciate the help.”

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.”

He glances back over his shoulder and sees your gaze wandering around the church, taking in the clean if rough hewn pews and stained glass windows. Your eyes cut to his quickly as if you sensed him watching, giving him a shy smile. 

“You have a beautiful church, Mister?”

“Father Kennedy,” he answers, voice a little rougher than intended as you bite your lip in embarrassment.

“Sorry, not really up on my religion,” you laugh a little bashfully, “it’s nice to meet you, Father Kennedy.”

“Likewise,” Leon turns his attention to opening the office door, gesturing for you to enter first. 

His eyes slide down your body, taking in your curves, and shaking away the urge to sink his teeth into your soft neck. You walk over to the old rotary phone, something Leon never updated as it still works just fine. 

“Oh wow, my grandma had one of these!” you grin at him, “it’s so cute that you kept it for your office.”

That dark urge to bite you flares up in his chest again but he shoves it down. He nods at you instead of saying anything and you turn back to the phone. 

Picking up the handset, you frown and click on the dial a few times before setting it back down on the cradle. 

“Seems like your phone’s out,” you bite your lip again, looking agitated. 

Leon shrugs, “Tends to happen this time of year. No telling when it’ll start working again.”

You nod along and blow out a breath, “Okay, we’ll I’ll head back to the car and see if I can—“

“Stay the night.”

That pulls you up short and he wants to laugh at the wide eyed look you give him. 

“Stay here and we can try the phone again. If it doesn’t work, I can walk you to the nearest neighbor and try their phone.”

A soft smile crosses your face and Leon’s hit with an avalanche of impure want purring in his chest. 

“Are you sure it’s no trouble? I mean I’d really appreciate it, but I don’t wanna put you out.”

“No trouble, besides I’m here to help those in need,” a crooked grin slips out, “and you seem to fit that description.”

Another shy bite of your lip has him shifting his feet, willing himself not to do anything to you. 

“Okay then,” you give him the brightest smile yet, “thank you, Father Kennedy. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

A sudden flash of you thanking him on your knees floods his thoughts and he turns away from you, adjusting his half hard cock through his slacks, never more grateful to wear all black than now. 

“Follow me please,” he calls out to you, listening as you quickly walk to catch up. 

He also listens as you introduce yourself and explain as to why you’re out here in the first place, basically boiling it down to visiting some family for the holidays. Nodding along, he guides you into his living quarters which just happens to be a bedroom big enough to house a bed and a desk with a few bookshelves. 

“It’s so cozy,” you gush, running your hand along some of the handmade quilts and crocheted throws the church parishioners have given him over the years. 

“It’s home,” he states simply, moving to the fireplace and stoking the embers into a flame. 

“I’m kinda impressed,” you say as you hang up your jacket near the door, “it’s really rare to see someone so young as a priest in these kinds of communities.”

When he only gives you a deadpan expression, you begin to flounder. 

“Oh I mean, I grew up near here and so I’m just used to like older— you know what, I just feel like I’m digging a hole for myself,” you drag your palms across your eyes, “it’s just different is all. And either way I'm happy to have met you.”

Leon finally lets his lips quirk up into a half smile, amused at your reactions. 

“I understand, it’s just funny to see you try to explain it,” he moves away from the fireplace and grabs a change of clothes, ignoring how your cute pout is making him feel. 

“There’s a bathroom just through that door,” he points to his right, your left, “I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans. There’s also some spare toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.”

He watches as you get flustered when taking the simple sweats and cotton t-shirt. 

“Oh yeah, thanks,” you duck your head trying to hide your face and disappear behind the bathroom door to change. 

Leon lets out a long breath, trying to ease the tension building up in his chest. The wanting seems to only be getting worse the more time he’s spending with you. It’s like he’s a teenager seeing a skin magazine for the first time. 

Has he really been out here that long without seeing a pretty little thing like you? He’s in the midst of his thoughts while removing his collar and unbuttoning his cassock when he hears a soft squeak. 

He turns to see your eyes shut tight, hands clenching your bundled up clothes to your chest.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to!”

Leon frowns before looking down to see his bare chest offset by his rosary. Heat washes through him to see you peek again and bite down on your lip hard as you turn away. 

“I honestly was on autopilot,” he murmurs, voice rough making him clear his throat, “apologies, I’ll go change in the bathroom while you get settled.”

You gasp as he brushes past you to enter the bathroom. Grabbing onto the sink, Leon stares at his own blown pupils in the mirror. 

Get it together. It’s just a woman. A sweet woman. A pretty woman who probably has an equally pretty little cunt—

Shaking his head to clear it, he finishes dressing for bed. As he brushes his teeth, his eyes wander and notice the toothbrush you used sitting off to the side. A sudden flash of possessiveness surprises him leading him to quickly finish up and make his way back into the bedroom. 

You startle, standing up from sitting at the edge of the bed. 

Hands wringing together, you smile nervously, “Uh I-I wasn’t sure where to sleep? Like I can take the floor—“

He’s shaking his head already interrupting you, “We’ll share the bed. It gets extremely cold at night and it wouldn’t be safe to sleep on the floor.”

You frown over at the bed and look back at him apprehensively, “I can just use the quilts to make a pallet in front of the fire.”

“Please,” he gestures to the bed, “there’s no central heating and it gets deathly cold some nights. Even with the fire, I’d be afraid you would get frostbite.”

“I’ll sleep against the wall,” he softens his voice, “we’ll put pillows between us if you’d like and you can have the edge.”

He watches you bite on that damn lower lip again, wanting it between his own teeth. 

Nodding, your eyes seek out his again, “Okay. And we’ll try again first thing in the morning?”

“Of course,” he agrees easily, “I tend to wake early so I can check and wake you if need be.”

Your features melt from concern to thankful, “That’s very sweet of you, Father.”

A hot pulse of arousal makes his dick twitch but Leon ignores it in favor of offering you a slight smile. 

“Of course. Shall we?” he nods at the bed. 

You climb in after him, settling down under the layers of blankets and quilts. 

“I definitely never would’ve guessed I’d start my vacation by sharing a bed with a priest,” you giggle to yourself. 

“Unusual to say the least,” he dryly replies, sea dark eyes watching as you turn on your side, back facing him. 

You hum softly, shoulders twitching under the shirt and legs swishing under the covers. 

“Good night, Father Kennedy,” your soft voice has him gripping the blanket tightly. 

“Goodnight.”

It’s driving Leon up the wall with how badly he wants to reach out and touch you. Settling a little more, he listens as your breathing evens out and finds his own eyes slipping shut. 

Later in the night, he wakes up to your tossing and turning, feeling you press your ass back against him. He stifles a groan, eyes adjusting to the low light from the fireplace. You keep fidgeting, accidentally rubbing against his chubbed cock until he’s thickening in his sweats. His heavy hand reaches down and grabs you hip, stilling your movement. 

“Sorry,” your sleepily mumble, “‘m trying to get comfy.”

He dips his head down to ghost his lips across the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

He rocks forward, letting his bulge rub against your ass; you whine and press back against him harder. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I promise I didn’t mean to.”

“Sorry, huh?” he dips his tongue into your ear making you whimper, “are you asking for forgiveness?”

His hand grasps your hip and pulls you into a slow rhythm of grinding back against his stiff cock. 

“Oh,” you mewl as he kisses the shell of your ear, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not how you ask,” he chuckles, kissing down your neck, “you know better than that.”

You moan as he bites down on the soft skin that’s been tempting him all this time. 

“Forgive me, Father Kennedy,” you break the rhythm and grind back against him harder, “I’m so sorry I’m being so bad. God, can’t believe I’m dry humping a priest.”

A smack lands on your ass making you jump. 

“We don’t take the Lord's name in vain either,” his low voice slips into your ear, “for that, you get those cute little nipples pinched.”

As you moan, he rolls you over onto your back, slipping an arm around your shoulders so both of his hands can knead and grope at your breasts. 

“Pull your shirt up,” he murmurs in your ear, “be a good girl for me.”

You shove the t-shirt up to pool around your neck, hands settling back down to twist in the sheets. His fingers quickly move to circle and pinch your hard nipples. 

“Oh, ohhh,” your eyes squeeze shut as he teases and rubs your hard buds, “Father, please.”

He bites your neck again making you writhe and press your breasts up into his hands. 

“Please,” you whimper, eyes glimmering at him in the firelight, bottom lip swollen from your own teeth. 

“Who knew such a tempting sinful girl would end up in my church much less my own bed,” he rumbles in your ear, grinding against your hip as he teases your nipples. 

“Father Kennedy,” you swipe a soft, pink tongue against your lips, making his teeth ache, “shouldn’t we stop?”

“Do you want to stop?” he kisses your jaw, fingers tweaking your nipples sharply making you moan high in your throat. 

“No, no, please, it’s so—you’re so hot,” you whine, hips squirming for friction under the blankets, “please, Father, want you so bad.”

“It’s a sin to tempt a priest,” he trails his lips across your neck to suck another mark into your skin, “you’ll have to repent.”

“H-how?” your eyes flutter, trying valiantly to stay open. 

He pulls away with a smirk, “You’ll have to use your body in service to the Lord.”

A keening whimper escapes your lips, hands shakily reaching up to run through his sandy blonde hair. 

“I-I’ll do anything,” you scratch your nails along his scalp making him groan, “just show me how I need to repent, Father Kennedy.”

He pulls his arm out from under you so he can climb on top of you, settling in between your thighs. Your hands pull his hair as he sucks a hard nipple into his hot mouth. He ruts against the mattress as he suckles each hard bud, nipping at the soft skin of your breasts and leaving marks everywhere. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a pair of tits in my face,” his voice is low, smoky, and he can feel your legs try to press together only stopped by his bulky body.

He takes his time, kissing the areola before running his tongue over your nipple, letting his teeth softly bite down before sucking it further into his mouth. Your hips buck up against his chest as he lays on top of you. He can feel how wet you’ve gotten already, the soft press of your panties against his skin leaving behind a sticky mess. 

He pulls back to look up into your dazed eyes, “Let me taste that wet pussy.”

You moan, hands tensing in his hair, “Y-you want to?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” he grins, “besides I wanna clean up that messy cunt with my tongue before you get slick all over my sheets.”

He scoots down, dragging his lips across your tummy and dropping kisses as he goes. 

“We’ll keep the blankets pulled up so you don’t get cold,” he murmurs as he bites your hip bone before soothing it with his tongue. 

You give him a shaky nod, “Okay, Father.”

He bucks his hips at that, feeling his cock leak in his sweats. He feels as you tug the blankets up and when he looks back up he can barely see your face making this seem so illicit and dirty it’s getting him even harder. 

He quickly eases your panties down your legs and tosses them on the outside of the blankets before settling between your legs again. Leon lets his instructive thoughts win and bites bruise after bruise into the dough of your thighs, sucking and worrying the skin until you're squirming against his mouth.  

He bites his way up to the crease of your thigh then lets his tongue trail across your skin until he’s lapping at your swollen clit. He hears as you moan loudly, thighs falling open wider as he hungrily licks into your cunt. 

“You taste like sin,” he groans as he pulls back to spread your pussy open, “so fucking good.”

Pressing his face tightly against your slick coated lips, he flutters his tongue into your soaked hole and grinds his nose against your bundle of nerves. He slips his tongue in and out of your hole before licking back up to your throbbing clit, softly kissing the sensitive bud again and again until sucking it gently into his mouth. 

Sweat beads around his hairline as it grows warmer underneath the layers of covers. Leon mouths at your sloppy cunt until you’re moaning loudly as slick coats his chin and lower jaw. Once your thighs start to tremble, he pulls away and crawls back up your body. The cooler air of the room kissing his sweaty skin as your hands scrabble against his shoulders. 

“‘M so close,” you whimper as you tug him into a messy kiss, “wanna cum, please Father.” 

He clicks his tongue, “You have to work hard for forgiveness,” he presses his thumb down against your chin making your lips part. 

“Maybe we should try filling that mouth up first,” he murmurs, watching as your eyes droop. 

You nod, running your hands down his broad chest, “Please, wanna see you, too.”

Surprise crosses his features, but he schools it into a crooked smile, “Aren’t you sweet? Take your shirt off for me while I get undressed.”

In no time, he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, completely nude save for the rosary around his neck. When he goes to slip it off, your hand snaps around his wrist.

He watches as the embarrassment wars with arousal as you ask him to keep wearing it. His dick throbs and kicks against his thigh and your eyes go lidded as they take in his thick cock.

“Allow me to show you how sorry I am, Father,” you scratch your nails across his chest all the way down his toned stomach to a happy trail that leads to the thatch of hair above his cock. 

Goosebumps travel across his skin when you rub across his hips bones, breath ghosting across the drippy head of his dick. 

Your tongue lathes over the slit, circling his tip and teasing under his foreskin before you pull back. 

That shy look steals over your face, “Can you sit here?”

You pat the gap in the pillows in front of the headboard. Leon’s lips quirk in amusement and shifts to sit with his back to the headboard and legs splayed out across the bed. You move to kneel in between his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his stiff cock. 

He watches as you lean forward, one hand coming up to grip the base of his cock as the other rests on his thigh, and slowly sucks the head of his dick into your mouth. Your eyes shutter with a moan as you take more and more of his cock into your mouth until you choke. 

Pulling off with a gasp, your watery eyes blink open staying on his as you sink back down on his cock. His abdomen tenses and he grabs the back of your neck with his broad palm to guide your head. 

“No need to rush,” his eyes track your tongue as you lick and kiss all along his dripping slit.

“You taste so good,” you moan as you lick your way down to his balls. 

Leon keeps his gaze on you as your wet mouth sucks his balls into your mouth, whining when you can’t fit both at the same time. You smear your face against the spit slick skin of his squishy sac as you nuzzle and suck his taint.  

“Oh, good girl,” he parts his legs wider so your mouth can reach him easier. 

Your glazed eyes slide shut when you slip your tongue down further to ghost across his asshole. Tongue drifting lazily against it, Leon grunts when you finally lick into him. 

“Such an eager girl,” he rasps as you softly eat him out, tongue eagerly rimming his hole. 

You sloppily makeout with his hole as his cock weeps precum everywhere; his own heavy hands keep your face buried between his cheeks. 

When you finally pull back, your chin’s coated with spit. 

“Suck my cock a little more and I’ll fill up that needy cunt,” he pulls your swollen mouth to the weeping head. 

Whining, you easily follow along and let his thick cock sink back into your mouth. He luxuriates in the feeling, the feeling of your hot hungry mouth slurping loudly around his dick. You moan and whine around him, rubbing your thighs together for friction. He smirks to see you acting so needy, so obedient in servicing him. 

“Up,” he murmurs, grabbing your neck and pulling you off of his cock.

Your hands reach out to dig into his pecs, framing the rosary between your hands as you straddle his lap, his cock snugly pressing against your pussy. 

“Oh, Father, please,” you grind down on his wet cock, dragging slick along his throbbing length until your clit’s bumping his tip. 

“Poor little lamb,” his hands grab your hips, letting you rock against him. 

With the grip he has on your hips, he easily manhandles you onto your back, kneeling between your spread legs, cock leaking all over your wet cunt.  

“Oh god,” you mewl, scratching at his chest. 

He spanks your clit with his fat cock. 

“What did I say about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

Your pupils swallow any color left in your eyes, “‘m sorry, daddy. I don’t mean to be bad.”

“Fuck,” he growls, slapping your cunt with his cock over and over to make your hips jump, “are you misbehaving on purpose?”

Head shaking no, you wrap your legs around his waist, “No, I didn’t mean— it just slipped out. I‘m sorry, Father Kennedy.”

He nudges the tip of his cock into your hole, making you keen and rock down. The pressure around just the head makes him want to be rougher, meaner with you.

He grins smugly down at you, “You just can’t help it, can you? The wetter this pussy gets the dumber you are, right? What a slut.”

You whine, the heels of your bare feet digging into the back of his legs, goading him to slide deeper into your cunt. 

“Yes, I’m your slut, Father,” your hands tug on his rosary making him groan and fuck his dick into your spasming cunt. 

His heavy weight drops over your body, earning another low whine followed by your nails scoring a hot trail across his shoulders. He shudders, enjoying that small bite of pain as your eyes roll back in your head, pussy sucking him in even deeper somehow. 

“Pretty cunt just needed me buried balls deep in her, huh?” he groans as he pulls out just to sink back into your pussy, “so tight.”

“W-wait,” your voice goes high with sudden realization, “I thought p-priests were banned f-from having sex,” you gasp out, stuttering through Leon’s thrusts. 

“Baby,” he coos condescendingly, “you don’t think I was some silly little virgin, did you?”

He boxes you in even more, dropping down on his forearms that rest on each side of your head. 

“But I gotta say, you’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever fucked,” he kisses your mouth, “so wet,” he drops another kiss to your lips, “and tight,” and another kiss ending with a rough bite of your bottom lip, “this kitty’s been purring for my dick all night.”

Your head thrashes against the pillow at his words, “Yes, yes, fuck,” tears drip from your lash line, “it’s so good, Father Kennedy.”

Molten heat rushes through his veins at your wanton face paired with that sweet voice. His teeth sink into that plush bottom lip, suckling on it until you tug your head back with a soft cry. It’s swollen and split from his teeth, a small bead of blood welling up only for him to lick it away with a groan.  

He licks into your mouth, mixing spit and blood until he’s sucking your tongue past his own greedy lips. His cock slowly ruts in and out of your clenching hole as he kisses you breathless. Your fingers tangle in his rosary, tugging him back to your mouth every time he goes to pull away. 

Leon lets himself go; stops trying to control himself and settles into fucking into your warm, wet cunt with harsh skin slapping thrusts. He bites anywhere his mouth can reach, leaving dark bruises or even outright bloody teeth marks behind. His dark eyes keep track of your pleasure as well; if you wince, he makes sure to lathe his tongue across a bite instead of sinking his teeth into you again or fucks his cock shallowly into your pussy instead of knocking against your cervix how he likes. 

You reward him with pretty little cries and pleads against his lips; your doughy thighs clasped tightly around his waist as you beg for him to ruin your cunt. He wrings orgasm after orgasm until your body’s spent and you're babbling incoherently. 

He keeps you underneath him all night, trading blood tinged kisses as his cock stuffs your squelching pussy. Sunlight begins to stream through the snow tinted windows when he finally manhandles your body to straddle over him once again. 

Leon feels like this must truly be what heaven is like. You, seated in his lap as he buries his cock to the hilt in your hot little cunt watching as you grind down against him. Fat dimples between his fingers as he grips your ass tightly, helping you keep rhythm as he bounces you up and down his dick. 

“Oh Father Kennedy,” you whimper, “I can’t, I can’t—“

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, easing your harsh grind into a slow back and forth, “you can give me one more so I can feel that pussy squeeze me so I can put a nice thick load in her.”

His fingers slowly circle and pinch your pudgy clit, letting you rock against him a little faster. 

“Oh, I’m-I’m g’nna,” you hiccup a sob, tears dripping from your eyes as he works your exhausted body towards another orgasm. 

“Call me, Leon,” he smiles at you, the first genuine one he’s actually offered to anyone in quite a long time, “now cum for me, squeeze me nice and tight.”

“Leon, Leon, I-I’m cumming,” you gasp out, a mewling cry slipping past your swollen lips as your pussy milks Leon’s cock for the upteenth time since this all started. 

“Good girl, so good for me,” he groans, letting your climax coax his own from him, grabbing your hips to hold you snug to him. 

He growls up at you, cock jumping inside your spasming pussy as rope after rope of sticky cum spurts inside your fluttering walls. 

 “Leon, oh, it’s so warm,” you whimper, one hand settling on your belly and the other resting on Leon’s heaving chest. 

“Fuck,” he yanks you down into a messy, spit filled kiss.

You whine and he softens it, titling his mouth up to press softer kisses to your lips until pulling away. Easing down next to him, you snuggle into his side, burying your face in his neck. 

“So am I forgiven now?” you tease, fingers tracing over the beads of his rosary. 

“Might need to spend some time with me in the confessional,” he presses a kiss to your hair, “just to make sure it takes.” 

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #priest!leon s kennedy #priest!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #priest!leon s kennedy smut #priest!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #fem!reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #priest!leon x reader #💀 anon

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Arabesque

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Being a ballerina is everything you've ever wanted and more but after a major injury, you had to stay a step back. Now you're able to get back into it, so you ask the one person on the team who has taken ballet if she can help you.

Squares Filled: “you better have a good excuse for being late again.” (2021) for @blackwidowbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The mansion is so big that you have to split up from your team in order to cover most of it. You hate being on your own on a mission but this calls for you to be alone. You’re not much for violence but the team needs a sharpshooter, which you are. You’re highly skilled on your feet, very flexible, and light as a feather. You can sneak into a room and not make a sound even if there are fifty people in it.

Someone with that skill is useful on a mission like this one. Someone stole black market weapons that they want to sell to the highest bidder, and you’re here to stop him before they leave. You’re not sure who is behind this but if those weapons get out, a lot of people are going to die.

Your earpiece connects you to Steve, Clint, and Natasha so even though you’re not in the same room as them, you still have them by your side. Your steps are very light as you enter one of the back rooms and there is a man in the back by a table of weapons. It’s the stolen merchandise. If you play your cards right, you can do this without alerting him.

The man takes apart the big guns to be packaged easier in the boxes by his feet. As he is turning to package the guns, you panic thinking he is going to see you and start shooting. You do the first thing you can think of and haul yourself onto a high cabinet soundlessly. The man turns and doesn't see you as he continues to pack the weapons.

You jump from high cabinet to high cabinet as you make your way across the room silently. The space is small and compact but you’re very flexible. You’ve been training all your life to be where you are, and it comes in handy for missions like these. When you get right above the guy, you jump onto his back and tighten your legs around his neck. The man doesn’t have any time to react and begins flailing about trying to get you off him.

You take your knife out of the arm holster and stab his hands that try to pry you off him, and he falls to the ground in a fit of choked gasps. As soon as he is passed out from the lack of oxygen, you step away from him and clean your blade on his jacket.

“I got the weapons. Back room, west wing.”

“On our way,” Natasha says. Your teammates meet you in the back room and see the man sprawled at your feet. “You took him down without alerting the alarms. Impressive.”

One word from her and you’re a blushing mess.

“Thank you,” you smile.

Steve grabs the man while you, Natasha, and Clinbt grab the weapons. SHIELD has been looking for these weapons that will keep them in their inventory while keeping the man hostage to gather more information from him. Everyone wants to celebrate the successful mission but parties were never your thing. Nothing against your friends but you’d rather spend time in the gym than be mingling with all of them.

Tony made a section of the gym to mirror a ballet studio for you to practice in. You’ve taken ballet ever since you could walk since your mother was one. You’re just following in her footsteps, trying to make her proud. The dream is to one day be on stage in front of an audience but you have a long way until you get there. You face the mirror and grab onto the bar so you can do your stretches. You squat down and bend your knees outward for ten seconds before standing up and doing it all over again.

For your next stretch, you turn away from the mirror and bend backward until your head is at the same length as the low bar. You grab onto the bar and lean forward while still holding onto the bar so that your body is in a backward ‘7’ shape. You’re holding this position for thirty seconds when you see Natasha walk into the gym through the mirror. You stand upright and give her a kind smile.

“Nice form. Looks like it feels good.”

“Yeah, especially after a long mission.”

“Little tip? Try using the wall for that stretch and walk your legs down the wall.”

“Have you ever taken ballet?”

“We did it as part of our training.” You open your mouth to ask her something but decide against it. “No, what were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to be my teacher. I could use some help with my form even though I’ve been doing this all my life. I took a long break due to an injury and I’m just now getting back into it. I’d like you to teach me only if you’re okay with it. I understand if it’s too painful for you to, though.”

She chuckles. “Had you asked me fifteen years ago, I would have said no but I can be your teacher now.”

“Great,” you grin.

You two meet four times a week, three times if you have a mission to go on. She is teaching you so much, stuff that you didn’t know about or have forgotten about. While this has been helpful for your ballet career, it’s bad for your thoughts and feelings. It’s no secret that you have a thing for Natasha. How can anyone not have a thing for her? She’s gorgeous, has an amazing personality, is sweet and funny, and puts everyone before herself. She might know based on the looks you’ve been giving her but you haven’t outright told her you like her.

“I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me,” you say to her.

You’ve learned so much in the coming weeks that brought you closer to her, which is why you two are sitting on the roof overlooking the city below. Tony built the Avengers Tower right in the center of Manhattan so on nights like these, you can see the nightlife.

“So, have you always wanted to be a ballerina?” Natasha asks.

“For as long as I could remember. My mother was one. Maybe that’s why I got into ballet classes at such a young age. I was actually really good until I graduated high school. I got injured on stage which left me unable to perform for years. By the time I could do it again, I lost my way. I started to pick it up over the years but it wasn’t the same. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I can’t imagine going through Red Room training was fun, but did you like doing ballet? Can you see yourself doing it again?”

“No,” she shakes her head.

“What did you want to do in life? You know, if you weren't an Avenger?”

“I never thought about it. I was taken at such a young age, that I didn’t think I could know anything outside of that training.”

That hurts your heart. She was taken and forced into a life she never asked for. She better off now but at what cost?

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.

Moments like these are precious because they don’t last forever. The training sessions after this got better because you two found a way to work well together. She’d help you with your form and you’d try and perform a number for her. It’s working well for you two except your feelings for her are increasing. It’s the way she presses her body against yours to make sure you’re in the right position or her hand on your body guiding you to where you need to be.

It’s driving you insane.

She’s gonna kill me. Fuck.

If you’re late one more time, she is going to kick your ass. You rush down to the gym in hopes she isn’t there. You yank open the door and sigh in relief when you don’t see her in the corner. To make it seem like you’ve been here for at least thirty minutes, you quickly put your shoes on and do some quick stretches.

“You better have a good excuse for being late again.”

You look up and see Natasha by the entrance to the gym.

“Okay, listen, my alarm didn’t wake me up.”

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

“Your point?”

“If you’re late again, I’ll have you on the floor in seconds.”

Damn, why’d that turn you on? Those are delicious yet dangerous thoughts.

“Yes, ma’am,” you nod.

She walks over to you just as you stick your left leg into the air behind you. The only thing you’re balancing on is your right foot on your toes. You arch your back slightly and raise your arms to look like you’re flying. One of the things you’ve had trouble with since getting back into the art is balancing. Natasha puts her right hand underneath your leg to keep it up as soon as she sees you wobbling.

“Don’t think. Clear your mind.” 

She moves her hand from your calf up to your inner thigh, raising your leg as she moves. She grips your hip to get you to stay still, but the only reason why you’re going to crumble to the ground is because her hands are on your body. Her hands are so close to the place where you want her the most even if she doesn’t know it. She must know what she’s doing to you otherwise she wouldn’t do it. You look at her through the mirror and see the slight smirk on her face. That motherfucker. She knows exactly what she is doing.

“Like that?”

“Just like that. Good girl.”

Those two words are what cause you to fall back into her. She catches you in her arms and you put your hands on her shoulders to steady yourself.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay,” she whispers back.

Your body acts before your brain can think. You press a kiss upon her lips but quickly pull back in shock that you actually did that.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to do that.”

“Do it again,” she says.

This time, you kiss her confidently. Ballet practice just got a whole lot more interesting.

x

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fiction #natasha romanoff fan fic #natasha romanoff fan fiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #marvel fan fic #marvel fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fic #marvel fiction #mcu fanfiction

[laiiaaa]

A NICE NIGHT — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen happens to meet a stranger at the party Claire takes him to. A brief conversation is shared during a cigarette break.

length 2k

contents literally just nonsense, not infidelity but sorta toying with the idea idk????, inside Carm’s mind (he’s a nervous wreck), reader is a food journalist bc i just think the pairing is cute, Claire slander lowkey…look i just want Carmen to meet some random person organically and bond without feeling pressured to like them :/ very self indulgent :/ baby bear :/

Carmen’s not sure why he agreed to come here: a party with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care to, too much drinking, too much conversation, too much noise.

He’s trying not to hate it completely, he really is, but there’s that nagging in the back of his mind that just screams unwanted. And maybe a little regretful, or undeserving, or unsure of himself. He wants to like it here. He wants to tolerate it for Claire. Maybe. Maybe just a few more minutes. Maybe a few with a cigarette.

He’s lucky to find the backyard more or less empty, save for red solo cups and beer bottles thrown askew—and a girl standing against the railing, back to the house to face a dark canvas. At least this is better than the mess inside.

Playing it safe, he leans against the railing on the opposite side of the steps, figures it sends a message. We don’t have to talk. Or, more accurately, I don’t really want to. He feels that familiar itch crawling down to his fingertips and pulls out his pack, pops out a cigarette and props it between his lips. He pats down his pockets. And again. He pats down his jacket. And again. 

Fuck…

“Do you need a light?”

His head turns in her direction. Did I say that out loud? She’s looking at him, expectant. He must have. “Yeah, I, uh, it must’ve slipped from my pocket or somethin’.” He can’t tell whether he’s more on edge in a crowded room or in a conversation alone.

She walks over to him in a few steps, clad in a black leather jacket that catches his eye. Her cheekbones glow in the pale yellow haze seeping outside from within the house, and her lips are glossy and a little tinted like she’s just eaten cherries. Not that he’s paying any of this any mind; she’s only offered him a glimmer of her flame. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a bright blue BIC lighter, like one of hundreds he’s lost or forgotten about over the years.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and she nods in response, turning back to the yard just a foot away this time, taking a drag. A metallic flick gives him his fill and his nerves subside only slightly. He fiddles with the lighter for a moment, watching her almost, before extending his arm. “Here.”

She peeks over her shoulders, shakes her head lightly, and looks back. “Nah, you keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He pockets it and inhales. “Thanks.”

She hums and it quirks up into a smile. “You, uh…” Another pull and plume of tobacco. “You do this typa thing often?” Carmen pauses, and she must take it as confusion. “Y’know, like…” The hand holding the cigarette makes a few circles as she turns her body towards him. “Parties. Kickbacks?” An eyeroll, a shrug of the shoulders he thinks is playful. “I dunno what the fuck this even is.”

“No,” he chuckles, and he thinks it comes a little easier than usual. A little lighter. “I-I don’t.”

“Yeah.” She sighs and smiles back at him, looks him in the eye for a blip of time. “Me neither.” Backing up, she moves down onto the first step and sits. She offers her name nonchalantly, adds by the way to the end of the introduction while shooting a look up at him.

“Carmen,” he offers. He clears his throat and steps closer. Am I supposed to sit with her? He chooses to stay standing.

She scoots to the side until she meets the railing, turns her hips to prop her legs along the step below, crossed at the ankle. Leather boots hit an inch or two below her knees. “You can sit here if you want.” Her head pivots toward the house to eye the furniture—two dingy lawn chairs and a collapsible table—and she takes another hit off her cigarette. “Not much place else.”

He nods, smiles because he thinks it’s the right move, and tries to sit down coolly. A few beats pass and he doesn’t know what to do in the silence. “Do you know anybody here?” he asks, lending a glance before looking down at his feet.

“Not really. A friend dragged me here to get me away from work. She’s busy actually talking to people.”

He smiles to himself, a gentle one hidden behind the collar of his jacket that makes his chest warm. I know the feeling. “I dunno anyone either. I, uh…” Fingers run through his hair to the nape of his neck. “A friend dragged me here, too.” A friend… The syllable feels heavy rolling off the tongue. Is that the right word for it?

“Really.” She smiles and exhales. “How come?”

“Uh…” He lets out an airy laugh, mouth tightening into a half-smile as he looks at her while still messing with the back of his hair. “To get me away from work, I think.”

A quiet giggle makes him think he could be doing something right for once—like maybe the whole social thing doesn’t have to be so hard, and he doesn’t have to be the funniest person in the room, and he doesn’t have to try and carry the weight of a conversation. Maybe he can just be.

“What do you do for work?”

Here we go again… He lets the question simmer for a beat. It’s an uncomfortable one: he doesn’t make money, the prestige is anything but, part of him shrivels up when he has to see the reaction. Another inhale before he ashes his cigarette. “I’m a chef,” he says, though it’s quiet. Ashamed.

“Oh, really?”

His heart drops. Maybe he thought better of a situation than he should’ve. “Heh, yeah, it’s not—it’s not, uh…” It’s not that special. Half of what I do is fuckin’ pointless. No, I don’t make a lot of money. Thanks for fuckin’ asking. 

“No, no, I think it’s cool.” She tilts her head to the side, another soft thump of laughter to break the tension. She doesn’t seem to mind too much. “I’m a, uh…” She looks to her hands, snubs out the last of her cigarette that’s burnt down to the filter. “I’m a food journalist, so—or, whatever you’d call it—just a writer now, maybe? I don’t even know at this point…” 

There’s an exhalation that has Carmen thinking that for once someone feels like he does—a quick-beating heart, jittery hands, an embarrassment unique to someone whose passion is a shame to a respectable world. 

“What I’m saying is, I’m not judging.”

His brows lift, a subtle nod—half relief, half surprise. “You’re not.”

“Correct.”

A comfortable silence. A few more plumes of tobacco escape his mouth before he realizes he can’t remember the last time he smoked more than half a cigarette. He likes a quick fix, just a taste of it to make the nerves go down before getting back to work; he doesn’t take it slow, enjoy the pull, indulge in the company of someone else. He doesn’t usually have someone else. 

He looks at her again, and for a blip of time he thinks she’s gorgeous, her head gently turned to the side, a barely-there smile adding warmth to the space between them. Part of him is thankful she hasn’t gone back inside, and he doesn’t bother wondering whether she’s staying because she wants to enjoy a crisp night in a bit of quiet, or if her friend isn’t all that much of a friend, or anything else. He’s here with Claire, anyway. He’ll be back with her any moment now, and he’s not sure whether he wants that moment to come. He likes it out here, in the dim light, away from the bustle, stumbling through a conversation with someone who isn’t running miles ahead. It’s not buried under a past that’s grueling to dig up.

So he goes out on a bit of a limb and asks, “What do you write about?”

She looks at him then, mouth open only slightly like she didn’t think he’d ask. “The food industry, mostly. Ethics, culture, history, that typa stuff.” A pause before she adds, with a bit of a tanginess to it, “Not recipes, or cookbooks, or anything like that. Might not be your style.”

“Not my style?” A crinkle forms between his brow, his lips curl up at the corners, gaze shoots down to his feet again.

“What, you’re reading Gastronomica in your free time, Chef?”

He strangles out a breath that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, making her smile. “Gastronomica?”

He tries not to think about it too much. Even in his professional prime he wouldn’t fuck with journalists; they were too prying, too nosy, asked the wrong questions about the wrong things. Who cares where his love of cooking came from? Is it a good dish, or is it not? 

This is different though. He’s not entirely sure why. Just that it is.

She offers a shrug, and a dismissive smile to follow that slowly wanes. “Doesn’t mean much in the real world, though.”

Self-deprecating. “I get that…” Too well. “It’s the same, bein’ a chef, y’know? It’s, uh, not a lotta money.”

She hums. “Not at all. I still like it, obviously, but—y’know, my parents would’ve been a lot happier had I…” A beat of laughter, sardonic and a little self-loathing. “I dunno, become a fuckin’...a fuckin’ doctor, or somethin’.”

He smiles to himself. A doctor…Claire’s gonna be a doctor. Respectable, easy to confess about. Not a lotta shame there.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining like that to you; I don’t even know you.”

“No, no I get it. I know what you mean.” He nods and watches his hands before looking back. “The, uh, the judgment. I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But, uh, it…it’s nice,” he admits, looking her in the eye, “It’s nice to meet someone who’s in that—that world, y’know?”

She hums and smiles in a way that makes his chest flutter. In a way that makes him think he’s understood. In a way that makes him painfully confused as to how he even broached the topic with someone who’s little less than a stranger.

The back door opens, and light spills onto the porch. Heads turn to inspect.

“Carm?”

Claire.

He freezes before sparking up a smile. “Hey,” he answers. It’s been too long since ashing his cigarette; he flicks it to the ground, standing up and turning to face his…friend. 

She takes a few steps yet stays tethered to the door. Music booms from inside and just the thought makes Carmen’s head throb. Her gaze flickers from him, to the girl sat on the steps, and back. “You made a friend?” Her grin feels mocking, almost accusatory.

“N-No—” he shakes his head, turns to look at the girl standing up— “Just, uh…”

“Just lent him a light,” she fills in. He watches her dust off her skirt, adjust her slouched over jacket, check her phone for a second before she looks back up at him. She smiles at him and looks at Claire with the same expression. “I’m headed out, though, so…” Her face softens when she looks at him again, and he wants to think it’s for a reason. “Have a nice night.”

His mouth goes dry before he remembers his manners. “Yeah, uh, you too.” 

“Thanks.” Her boots make a satisfying click as she descends, her hand an axis around which she pivots the railing to leave through the gate. He wonders where she’s going, whether she drove here herself separate from her friend, if she’s going to wait for an Uber to pick her up. If she'll ever visit The Bear once it's open.

“So,” Claire starts, grabbing for his attention again. “Ready to go?”

He nods, mumbles a hushed Yeah, and heads toward the door. She bares her teeth in a smile as she looks him in the eye and hovers an open hand near his. He follows her back inside where the music consumes his thoughts and the bass rattles through his shoes. 

After letting the air hang between their hands for a moment, he tucks them away into his pockets, thumbing away at his new lighter.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear season 2

[blughxreader]

Damn, the "re-connection session" one-shot was an extremely heavy read in a way I never expected. I’m fully aware that your requests are closed but just wanted to ask; how would Dick and Jason deal with a traumatised omega reader? Someone who gave in to the hormones but once the effect blew over the weight of what happened set in and hit them like a truck, as they re-lived metres of being undressed and touched without their consent, which mimicked a borderline assault?

I'm blown away by the response for this fic omg <3 Thank u to everyone who left comments like this lol. "HORRID. SICK TO MY STOMACH. WILL TATTOO ON MY BODY." yall are the best

As for your questions...

We're all aware of normal trauma responses (mental breakdowns, you could throw up at the smell of Alfred's soup, blocking the memory entirely, throwing yourself into distractions), but ABO has a primal element...

Y'know how women who give birth release this brain chemical that makes them love their baby so it overrides the terror of pregnancy??

Yeah. Maybe finally joining the pack physically/emotionally releases that same chemical.

You're not a slave to your body, but it definitely takes the edge off of a horrific incident. I think you'd 1000% remember it forever and have some level of bitterness and ick about it, but sometimes it's easier to accept things you can't change.

From everyone's perspective, why should you harbor so much hatred when an easy life of love and safety is at your fingertips if you'd just forget a little incident?

It's up to the you tho.

Dick fully stands by his decision unless you try to like, kill yourself. He's used to making hard decisions, and while he'd upset at the circumstances, he feels it was the last solution. Everything else failed, so how we do things the uncomfortable way.

Jason will always feel shitty about it. He's a romantic, and the fact that your entrance into the pack was by force will forever sit heavy on him. If Dick's confidence had faltered even a little during that one-shot, then Jason would have called it off immediately.

Life would carry on normally, save for everyone watching you for any behavioral changes. Dick and Jason would accept your furious anger / sadness with understanding remorse, then would comfort you in their own ways.

Movie night? Your favorite food? Want to sit with Alfred and I in the library? Hey, maybe we can convince Bruce to let us all go to his beach house for a weekend?

And if you stop reacting all together, then they'd take the indication to cozy on up to you again. Fight back and show some emotion, orrrr sit with one of their arm's over your shoulder and let the hormones do their job.

You'll run out of fight eventually, then Bruce will start working on your trauma. At that point, the pack's already got a hold on you mentally so you begrudge them some leeway.

Small privileges here and there (sitting with your thighs touching, holding someone's hand, sleeping in the same bed), until it becomes a slippery addiction.

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere dc #yandere abo #abo yandere #batfam abo

[saintmurd0ck]

i've got you, darlin'

masterlist

pairing: frank castle x afab!reader

summary: frank makes getting your period a little easier to bear

warnings: mentions of heavy periods (cramps, pain, body aches, but no bleeding), fluff and frank looking after you, protective frank!!!

a/n: for my sweet @chellestrash 💗 who deserves the world (and frank castle)

He knows, even before your eyes flutter closed and your grip tightens on the sheets. He knows, just from the way his name comes out in a hoarse whisper, more of a plea than a prayer.

Frank kneels onto the ground, his voice a gentle cadence in your ear. "That time again, huh?"

You swallow harshly, unable to stop the pained grimace distorting your face, at a loss of how else to say yes. It seems like a simple answer, a candid one, but it's a response you've come to loathe. 

Because every month, not unlike clockwork, it's an age-old reply to the same question.

Your body starts to seize, despite the breathing exercises running rampant through your head — in through the nose for three, hold for four, out through the mouth for five — and the heavy blankets doing absolutely nothing to warm your frigid skin. 

Ice and searing fire glitter in your veins, a complicated dance with no ending, not bothering to tiptoe around the white-hot knife twisting into your stomach. 

"M'right here, sweetheart," Frank murmurs, at the ready, dropping Advil into your gnarled, outstretched hand, before lifting a glass of water to your lips. 

He helps you upright, making sure the pills go down, watching your reaction to see if you need anything more. 

Your eyes dart to the kitchen, a silent communicator of the one other thing that's missing, but Frank shakes his head, placing the heat pack across your abdomen in near-perfect synchronisation. "Already got it."

A meek "Thanks, Frankie" is all you manage amongst the bouts of blinding discomfort, more of a rasp than intended. Curling up into a ball, you bury your face into the pillows, doing your best to ground yourself, to let his scent settle over you in a wave of calm. 

The mattress dips as Frank sits down next to you, dragging a soothing hand across your back, alternating his touch between long, languid strokes and featherlight circles. 

"Honestly sweetheart," he muses, the hint of a smile flitting across his face, "you'd make a great Marine."

You blink at him, disconcerted.  

He gestures towards you, chuckling. "I tell 'ya, the guys thought they were tough shit, but one week of this and they woulda been beggin' for mercy. You put 'em to shame."

You roll your eyes, mustering a weak smile. "Well it's not like I have a choice, do I?"

"Yeah? And? Ain’t makin’ me any less proud."

The next cramp snowballs into you before you have a chance to respond, impending fatigue crawling up your spine in lashes. 

And then his hands are on you, his body sheltering yours, encasing you with every ounce of protective warmth he can muster. He holds you closely, nestling your head in the crook of his neck, letting his arms fall into place. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, into your hair. “I’ve got you, darlin’. I’ve got you.” 

Sharpness turns to a throbbing, dull ache, though it reverberates in your bones, turning your muscles to jelly. 

Still, you grasp at him, clutching him tighter, as if he’s the one thing in the world that could actually get you through this. 

You suppress a bout of muted laughter. You’re always going to be the one getting yourself through this, no matter what, but…

At least Frank makes it more bearable. 

“It’s going to be a long week,” you sigh, your words muffled against his chest. 

And it’s true. You’re going to be here for a while. 

But he’s got you. 

And it’s gonna be okay. 

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher fluff #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfic #the punisher fanfiction #tw periods #rhi writes 💻 #x reader

[thewalkingthread]

you're losing me - r.g. (part 2)

part 1

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: you're adjusting to life after rick cheats on you

warnings: cursing, rick is an absolute lost puppy without you

author's note: i'm not sure what you guys were wanting in the part two in terms of resolution, but i wrote this with intentions of rick being a loser LOL BUTTTTTT, I can absolutely make an alternate ending where they work it out. but for now, boss babe Y/N.

-

It's been a month since you and Rick broke up. The day after you caught him and Jessie you packed all your stuff up and moved into Daryl's little cabin just outside the walls.

It was odd at first, being away from Rick. Being away from Carl and Judith. It was miserable. You were miserable.

You stayed in the cabin for a week straight, despite Daryl's several attempts to make you go into the walls with him during the day. Eventually he stopped, knowing you would face everyone when you were ready.

By everyone, you meant Rick.

Everyone caught on pretty fast considering you moved out of the house, out of the whole community. Maggie and Carol were the first to come see you and ask what happened.

It wasn't until Carl came knocking on the door with Judith on his hip that you decided to take that step and go back in to the walls.

According to Carl, everyone knows what happened. Everyone knows that Rick cheated. Everyone knows it was with Jessie- not like that was a surprise to anybody.

Your first day back inside was awful. Everyone kept giving you pity glances, knowing that you were the victim. You hated it. Yes, Rick cheated on you but you definitely didn't need anyone's pity.

You avoided Rick like the plague at first. Any sight of him you were turning the opposite direction. Whether you liked it or not, Rick is the leader of Alexandria- your leader.

You couldn't avoid him forever. But you sure as hell did your best.

Now a month later, you still weren't okay. Who would be after finding your boyfriend macking on another woman he told you not to worry about?

"I'm here to relieve you of your duties, madam." Abraham bowed deeply to you. You rolled your eyes, handing him the rifle.

"Thank you, kind sir." You laughed, heading down the ladder. Things were a bit easier now. People were acting normal towards you again, everyone was moving forward.

Well, not everyone.

Rick has made several attempts just to get you to glance at him, let alone speak to him. Despite him cheating on you with Jessie, you haven't seen them together since then. It seems that they broke off whatever they were.

It didn't matter though, the damage was done. The trust was broken.

You walked towards the pantry, needing to take note of the things we were running low on for the next run with Daryl.

Your footsteps slow down when you hear commotion by the pond. You see Carl and Ron a few feet apart from each other. You could tell just from their body language that things weren't alright.

You stopped, watching them for a second before deciding whether or not you should intervene. They're teenage boys, surely they can sort out their issues.

"Well your mom is a homewrecker!" Carl shouts at Ron. "She knew my dad and Y/N were in a relationship!"

Ron scoffs, raising an eyebrow at Carl. "It's not her fault your dad is a cheating pig! He chose to cheat on Y/N, sorry my mom's better."

Before you knew it, Carl was lunging himself at Ron. "Take it back, you little shit!" The two boys began to roll around in the grass, wrestling one another.

You ran towards them, other people stopping to witness the commotion.

"Y/N, is the best thing that's ever happened to my dad." Carl grunted, landing a punch to Ron's face.

"Carl!" You shout once you reach the boys. You pull on his shoulder, trying to tug him off of Ron. "Get off of him, Carl." You urge.

Much to your dismay, the boys continue to pull at each other, both trying to land a punch.

"What the hell-" You hear the all too familiar southern accent from behind you. You look around and see a small group of people gathered around. Jessie comes bursting through the wall of people, seeing her son on the ground with a black eye.

Rick manages to pull Carl off of Ron, pushes him back. You grab onto Carl, checking him over to see his bruises that were already forming.

"Do one of you want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Rick shouts at the two teenagers.

Both of the boys glare at each other, neither one of them saying anything. Rick glances around the area, "Nothing to see here." He shoots everyone a look. Everyone scatters except Jessie, who pulls her son off the ground.

"Carl?" He angles his head to his son once the crowd disperses.

Carl scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, son." Rick clenches his jaw. "You think this is acceptable be-"

Carl stops him before he can finish. "Oh save it, dad! Everything was fine. Everything was great! But you decided to cheat on Y/N and then everything went to shit!" Carl snaps.

“Carl-“

“No! Y/N left and now we’re all feeling emptiness! I’m feeling it, Judith is feeling it- You’re feeling it.”

"You want to talk about acceptable behavior?” Carl scoffs, nodding his head up at his dad. “Check yourself first." He shakes his head before walking away.

You stand there awkwardly. Rick glances at you as if to ask for an explanation. You cock an eyebrow at him and shrug your shoulders.

Carl has a point.

“He’s a smart kid,” You say smugly before heading away.

“Look, Y/N-“ you could hear Rick’s footsteps follow shortly behind you. His hand latched onto your elbow softly, halting you in your spot. “Can we talk… please.”

There was a desperation in his voice that you haven’t heard before. His eyes stared at you deeply, dark bags had formed beneath his eyes and the wrinkles on his face seemed deeper.

“I don’t really think there’s anything to talk about, Rick.” You shake your head at him.

His frown deepens. “There is, there’s so much we need to talk about. I- I need to say things. Explain myself-“

You raise an eyebrow at the scuffed up man in front of you. “Explain yourself? There’s nothing you can say that will justify you cheating on me.” Your voice raises slightly, causing the few surrounding people to glance at you two.

“Y/N, please. Can we just talk?” He glances around. “Somewhere private?”

You sigh deeply, glancing around the audience around you. “Fine.”

You turn on your heels, heading towards the house. Rick followed closely behind you, you could practically feel his breathe on your neck.

Carl was on the living room floor with Judith, playing with some blocks and dolls. His eyes lock on yours when you open the door, a smile spreads on his face before disappearing when he sees Rick step in behind me.

The father and son lock eyes before Rick nods his head towards the stairs. Carl rolls his eyes before pushing himself off the ground and stomping towards the stairs.

“Carl-“ Rick glares at the boy. You put your hands up to stop him.

“I’ll go talk to him,” you shush Rick quickly before following Carl up the stairs. He was on his bed, a comic book opened in his hand.

“Hey, you.” You smile at Carl as you knock on the door frame.

Carl sighs deeply when he sees you. “I’m not going to apologize for hitting, Ron.” He mumbles.

You laugh, head tilting backwards. “Oh, please. I wouldn’t want you to. The little shit deserved it.” You smile at him, stepping into his room. You sat at the end of his bed.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

Carl frowns, shutting the comic book and tossing it to the side.

“I miss you. We miss you.” He says. “It’s different without you. Judith doesn’t sleep through the night anymore, dad can’t cook for shit. The house is a mess, there’s no order.” He ranted on.

“Things between me and dad have been hard. He knows I’m angry with him and so there’s this weird tension between us.” He sighs.

You bite your bottom lip, hearing the frustration and tiredness in Carls voice.

“Do you think I should give him a second chance?” You ask Carl, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Honestly? No. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you.” Carl shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be with something that makes you question their loyalty.”

“You know, no matter what happens with me and your dad… Our relationship will never change. I’ll always be here for you, Carl. No matter what.” You reach out, placing your hand on top of his to give it a good squeeze.

“Thank you for sticking up for me to the little brat.” You smile, lightening the mood. Carl gives you a smile, nodding his head.

“I guess I better get downstairs. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And hey, cut your dad some slack… what he did to me was wrong, but that’s an issue for me and your dad.”

Carl nods his head in defeat as you walk towards the door.

“Hey, Y/N.” You stop, turning back at the teenager.

“I meant what I said. He doesn’t deserve you.”

You give him a tight lip smile and nod your head before heading downstairs. You could hear Judith’s cries from the top of the stairs. Your heart instantly breaks at the sound.

Rick’s in the middle of the living room, bouncing Judith in his arms in an attempt to soothe her. Her cries seemed to get louder as soon as she saw you walking down the stairs.

Her cries turned into screams as she thrashed in Ricks arms.

“Ma!!” She cried, reaching for you. “Ma-maaa,” she screams between cries. Rick looks at you desperately as you approach the pair.

You reach for the toddler, your hands grazing Rick’s at the hand off. The screams instantly subsides once she’s in your arms. She hiccups as she clutches onto you.

Rick sighs and falls onto the couch. You sit at the opposite end of the couch, Judith lets her head rest on your chest, trying to calm down.

“Carl said she hasn’t been sleeping well,” You break the silence between you.

Ricks eyes squeeze shit as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “None of us have since you left,” he mumbles.

Your heart breaks a little at the thought. You don’t say anything after that, not really sure what to say. Rick shifts his body towards you and you really take in his current appearance.

He looked tired.

“I know I messed up,” he starts. “I know there’s nothing I can do to change what I did. But I want to fix this- I want to fix us.” The desperation stays in his voice.

“This past month has been absolute hell, without you. I’ve been- I’ve been miserable.”

Good.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you, I’m so sorry for ruining us. Please just let me make it right. Please give us another shot, Y/N.”

The way he was looking at you right now was almost enough to make you crack.

Almost.

"I can't," I said quietly. The room fell still. Silence enveloped us in a suffocating hug.

"I'm sorry, Rick. I can't." I repeated. I felt tears well up in my eyes, saying it out loud.

It's taken an entire month for me to even be able to look Rick in the eyes. I was a few begs away from giving in and taking him back.

He doesn't deserve you.

Carls words rang in your mind.

"I think you and I both know the end of our relationship began as soon as we stepped into this place." You frowned. "Whether you meant for it to happen or not, you allowed this place- Jessie, to drive a wedge between us." You sigh.

"You." You lock eyes with him. "Not me." You shake your head.

"I let it go on for a while. I forced myself to just deal with a lot of the stuff. The late nights, missing dinners, forgetting dates." The memories of you waiting endlessly for Rick caused a scowl to settle on your face.

"I really wanted us to work. I loved us. I thought we were it." A small chuckle leaves your mouth. "I would've lassoed the moon for you if I could. Even though you hurt me over and over again with each lie, I wanted to stay. Because I loved you with everything I am."

Rick's jaw clenches and his eyes are moving around the room repeatedly before settling onto yours sadly.

"Loved." His voice cracked.

You gave him a tight sad smile.

"I asked Carl if I should give you another chance." You clear your throat. "He said, no."

Rick tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Said you don't deserve me."

Rick chuckles with a nod. "He's a smart kid," Rick echoes what you said earlier that day.

"I really did love you, Rick." You reach over, latching his hand in yours. "I'll always care for you. For the kids. Y'all have a special place in my heart." You nod, holding Judith close to you.

"Would you believe me if I said I do love you?" Rick cocked his head to the side. "That I'll spend every day of my life loving you even if you hate me." Something in his eyes tell you that he's being 100% honest.

You squeeze his hand 3 times.

"Thank you for everything." You offer him a smile. Despite better judgement, your body leaned towards him, capturing his lips with yours for one last time.

Rick sighed deeply, taking you in for the last time.

Rick watched as you got up to put Judith to sleep. Then he watched as the love of his life walked out the door because of his stupid mistakes.

#Rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead one shot #Rick grimes one shot #Twd #Rick grimes fanfiction #Rick grimes fanfic #Carl grimes #Daryl Dixon #the walking dead fic #Rick grimes fluff #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n

[fuckmyskywalker]

"Wet and Warm." — Sam Monroe.

— CW: 18+ | Smut. Watersports. Pee drinking. Brief blowjob. Sam and Reader are drunk asf. | Word count: 0.8k (not proofread!)

— List of films! | Taglist.

“Stop staring” Sam slurs, lowering his shorts and unticking his soft cock from the confines of his boxers.

“I’m not!” You reply back, your tone matching his drunken state. “I’m staring the necessary. This was your idea, dipshit”

You were right, it was his idea after all— but that didn’t make it easier for him. Sam invited you over while his family was away for the weekend, and two scary movies and two and a half six-packs of beers later, he couldn’t contain the urge to pee every 10 minutes. The thing is, Sam hates to pee when he is drunk; with his vision blurry and his uncoordinated moves, he successfully manages to pee everywhere except the toilet. So, he decided to ignore every uncomfortable pulsation of his bladder and focus on the third movie you chose for the night. He thought that maybe crossing his legs would help but it didn’t, which caused him to ask you to stop the movie and boldly ask you if you could help him to pee.

“Tell me why am I doing this again” You asked, kneeling next to the toilet, keeping your half-lidded eyes up, looking at his scrunched expression of concentration.

“Because I will make a mess and I’m not gonna clean it” Sam wraps a hand around the base of his cock, which is normally the only thing he needs to do— that is when his vision can register one toilet, not three. “And my mom will kill me”

“You are disgusting” 

“Shut up and help me”

And you do. Sam’s heart jolts inside his chest when you bring your hand to touch his cock. There’s an unreadable countenance on your face, likely induced by the alcohol in your system, so when you move his cock to the right gently in order for him to properly aim to the toilet, Sam is unable to read what could you be possibly thinking. Thank god he is drunk, or else he wouldn’t be asking his best friend to help him hold his dick while he pees. 

Relaxing his body, he closes his eyes and hangs his head, groaning a sigh of relief as he finally releases all the liquid accumulating inside his bladder. He is loud and that catches your attention. As he continues to do his thing, you tilt your head to look at his cock curiously. The hot stream of almost clear liquid flows right before your eyes, making you think questions that maybe your sober self wouldn’t even consider. 

“Can I taste it?” 

Sam chokes at your question, and his cock jolts around your hand. You feel it, but you assume is an involuntary muscle response. “What?” He looks at you. The interaction only lasts a few seconds, and you are hazily amazed at all the urine his bladder managed to keep. He looks into your eyes looking for any signs of mockery but he finds none. “Uh— well… if you want to.”

He was certainly not going to stop you. 

In a quick motion, you change the aim of his tip and wrap your mouth around it. Some drops fell on the white tiles and your lap, but most of it was now streaming down your throat. At the view and feeling, Sam gasps and shivers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His tongue slides over his labret, a nervous habit of his; inside your mouth, his cock stirs and he curses himself for the wave of pleasure that courses down his body. You hum at the taste, practically swallowing every drop. Most of his urine was in the toilet now, but you still managed to get a reasonable amount— or at least enough to satisfy your curiosity. Removing his length from your lips, your tongue licks the tip to make sure he is nice and clean, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed. Lifting your head, you meet his gaze once again only to find his eyes hazy and shiny with an emotion you know all too well. Sam’s lips are parted, as he pants quietly. The air around you two is thick and there’s a magnetic pull that induces you to bring your lips back to his cock. 

“Fuck—” He sighs, his large hand landing on top of your head and caressing your head as you begin to suck his tip, working his cock slowly until it goes from half-hard to a full rock-hard state. “Was it good?”

The question makes you giggle around his cock, provoking him to jolt his hips and slide further inside your mouth. Picking up a faster pace, you close your eyes and moan around his cock, laying your palms flat on his thighs to force your head forward, deepthroating him and making him groan your name. 

His thumb wipes over the underside of your mouth, wiping away a mixture of saliva and drops of urine that trickle down your chin. He can’t believe how beautiful you look— and if he wasn’t drunk as fuck, he would think this is all a dream. An amazing fucking wet dream. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

🌊Taglist!: @jellydodger | @bimbo-baggins86 | @sythethecarrot | @haydensgirlaela | @lovrsm | @valsarchives | @grimkaos | @daniiileee | @dianaaxoxo | @arzua10

— 🐚 if you wish you be added to my taglist there's a google forms in the beginning of the post! There you can select which days you would like to be tagged in (or choose the option: all the above!). If you send me a DM or an ask I will tag you on every day! | some tags might not work due to your settings, so let me know!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 kinktober 2023! #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x reader smut #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe x you

[neosimi]

🥫 4t2 Grocery Set - 2k Milestone Gift 🍫

better late than never, here is a mix of conversions mainly recolors by budgie, but also from severinka, ats4, and simdoughnut. i included a slaved version like a 3 in one of each object to make stocking shelves easier. that’s entirely personal preference lol i die every time i have to stock one by one. the crackers and cookies is slaved to lemonlion’s conversion. the my sims stickers are kind of random but they would work well near the video game section. i changed the textures on the sweets display to be simlish, and wanted to do more with them but i’ll save that for another day. anyway, that should be all! thank you everyone for 2k. ♡♡ as always, please lmk if you run into any issues. enjoy!~ ‹𝟹 ʕ´ڡ｀*ʔ

files are compressed. object list + polycount under the cut. meshes included.

download: [sfs] | [box] | [collection file] ♡

food points version: [sfs] | [box] ♡

credits: budgie, pilar, OBP, sg5150, severinka, sandy @ ATS4, simdoughnut, lemonlion. 

OBJECT LIST + POLYCOUNT:

beer pack - 100 polys

body butter - 226 polys

cake frosting - 226 polys

cake mix - 30 polys

crackers n cookies - 38 polys [slaved to lemonlion’s conversion]

foaming soap - 386 polys

food can - 112 polys 

hot sauce - 458 polys

jam/medicine - 374 polys

lotion bottle - 402 polys

spa bottle - 46 polys

lotto machine - 300 polys

mustard - 456 polys

shaving cream - 1274 polys [?? idk why it’s sm higher lol]

spice can - 50 polys

sweets display - 1836 polys

tube of cream - 282 polys

lotto posters - 2 recolors [on grilled cheese]

my sims stickers - 15 recolors [on butterfly crawler]

shop ads - 5 recolors [on grilled cheese]

community signs - 26 recolors [on aikea guinea mesh]

note: everything is decorative. the mac and cheese boxes and food packets are from here.

#whew i hope i didn't miss anything #i tried to cram everything into the preview lmfao #ts2 download #ts2cc #4t2 #4t2 conversion #sims 2 cc #4t2cc #ts2 clutter #s2cc #sims 2 download #ts2 object #ts2 deco #the sims 2 #ts2 #gif warning #this started w me wanting to add slaved versions to existing cc but then i realized there was a gold mine of old budgie cc that i wanted #actually it started when i was recoloring the sweets display to be simlish #sfs sucks butt

[mchlgayser]

FEATURING: football player!isagi yoichi x f!reader

SUMMARY: in which you came to his football match for the first time as his girlfriend

WARNING: minor vulgar languages

It was saturday morning, you woke up in the bed of your hotel room neatly dressed up in your sleeping attire, a note was attached to your phone that is on the night stand table saying; 'I bought you some foods to eat, I'm already heading to the stadium for my training, hope can see you my love' He probably meant for today that you were going to see him play for the first time ever as his official girlfriend.

You open your phone to see that it was past eleven in the morning, you kicked the duvet off your body and stretches your body before you got up and went to have breakfast Isagi bought. There's bread, milk, some cookies and a small size portion of cereal, you eat everything all at once opening the television and switching channels

You watched the news as the time flies by and just like that it was already four, you got up to shower readying your clothing to wear after, you are in your bathrobe getting out of the shower room with damped hair, you were singing centimillimental's song nag in a slow murmurs as you get your jeans and wore it, you used some deodorant and put on a jersey of Isagi's with his name behind it and the number '11'.

You get back inside the shower room turning on the hair dryer to dry your hair as you gently combed it to the back using the other hand. It was 18:03 when you walked out of the room packing your bag and left the hotel room with your phone and the hotel card in hand.

Anri was at the lobby waiting for you as she read a fashion magazine 'Hey, I'm sorry were you waiting long?' She got up to hugs you 'No of course not I just got here.' You nodded at her and then looked around 'Are we done now? Should we go?' She smile and hum

Even if she was much, much older than you that didn't stopped you from becoming her friend and she was just so nice too. The ride to the stadium was slow, there's been a traffic jam near the stadium, people probably here for the match. After what seems like fifteen minutes you both escaped to the back door of the stadium as Anri shows the guard her staff card and let her in immediately.

We entered the hall seeing fans looking so excited as some of them were talking with each other but you were looking for your boyfriend and there he was at the corner, drinking. 'Just my luck' You thought. You was about to go to Isagi but Anri pulled you back 'We can't go there, the hall is packed, let me just send you to the arena.' Just as you was about to protest she already pulled you outside.

Inside the arena is empty, there's staff doing works but you didn't see any fans 'That's because I slipped you in first, they're supposed to get inside...' She checked her watch '..Now..' And it started to fill the arena, people are swarming inside shouting and cheering like crazy for their liked team

You was getting excited for some strange reason and started shouting too, you was at the very front row making it easier for Isagi to spotted you as soon as he gets into the field and you smile at the thought 'I'm going now!' Anri informed and left rapidly after bidding good-bye.

Some old bald guy at the left offered you a banner with the 'Best Footballer number 11 Isagi' design printed on it, you thanked him with so much enthusiasm and used both hands to stretch the banner and lift it up above your head shouting your boyfriend name repeatedly 'I see, you like that guy too...' You turn to him and grinned 'Yes...'

-

The fans died down for a few minutes as they were all waiting for the players from both team to got out of that tunnel, the first team was the opposite team and the fans started cheering again and next was your boyfriend's team. The first to got out was the captain Yukimiya Kenyu following with Itoshi Rin, Nagi Seishiro, Barou Shoei, Chigiri Hyouma, Eita Otoya, Bachira Meguru, Tabito Karasu and Isagi and behind him their 'somehow' weird keeper Gagamaru Gin

You was cheering so hard your lungs about to burst, you keep shouting for Isagi but he can't seem to hear you, the fans was louder than you were. Obviously.

He was looking around like he was searching for something or rather...someone but he can't see you anywhere. He started to get a little disappointed thinking that you weren't here at the moment but as soon as he sees Anri went from inside the tunnel and sat beside Ego he looks around more and there he sees you with a banner, you waved it around calling for his name with a huge smile on your face

Right there and then he wanted to jump and run to you but a big spanked on the back of his neck made him shout and turns around 'Lukewarm.' Rin was going past him 'Hey!'

-

The match started again after the first half and Isagi had the ball for the moment going back and forth between the player, hand blocking their body from getting closer as he kick and passed the ball to Bachira, It was now a tie 1-1 after Nagi scored the goal at the minute 30. Time passed excruciatingly slow as you watched the guys slowly started to slow down their pace probably tired but that didn't stopped them from continue playing.

And there you saw Isagi sprint to the goal looking for a place for him to land his kick but unfortunately the ball was stolen by the opposite team as one of them shout to get in formation.

He looks so distressed. Isagi. Wish you could be there right now hugging and soothing him telling him to start running again and go get that ball 'Get the ball!' So loud that Isagi heard. He gasped turning to you as he joined his teammates trying to steal the ball and Otoya managed "It's mine now, yer loser buzz off!" He was sprinting towards the goal but just then the other team catched up leaving him no choice but to pass to his teammates and it landed right at Isagi, his eyes were dark and unfazed, he again go for the goal sprinting without even looking at the ball "It's my time to shine you all fuckers!' Again he sprinted without even battling an eye on the ball and "GOAL!"

You was shouting so loud shaking the person beside you as hard as you can and jump in joy 'Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!' He did some celebration running to where you are and climb on something to reach you 'My god!' He was hugging you. So tight you almost couldn't breathe 'I knew it. You are my lucky charm.' Yo relaxed into his embrace 'Thanks for being here and thanks for the shout. You woke me up.' Yo broke the hug to cups his cheek 'Go and get me another goal can't ya?' He smirk at you getting off whatever he was climbing and chuckles 'Anything for you my love. Anything for you...'

'That's why you adore him so much...'

#bllk #bllk scenarios #bllk headcanons #bllk x y/n #blue lock #bllk isagi #isagi yoichi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi smut #isagi icons #bllk bachira #bllk rin #bllk nagi #bllk barou #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk manga #bllk chigiri #bllk anime #bllk angst #bllk reo #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk kunigami #bllk oc #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk sae

[twogyuu]

baby, it's cold outside

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

Synopsis: You'd think after two years of being by his side, moments like this would get easier.

Genre: Fluff, mild angst, heir!seungcheol, best friend's younger sister!reader, older brother!jihoon

Warnings: One mention of champagne, reader is insecure, unedited, very very very mildly suggestive at the end?

WC: ~2.5K

A/N: For my sugar daddy, mingyu @nu-replies 😘🤣💙 I do apologize at how angsty this turned out (like fr reader needs to stop being so doubtful but honestly same if it was rich hot cheol), but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🥺 Best of luck - I hope you get cuffed by Choi Seungcheol this year! Rooting for you, bestie ✊🏻

Drabble to my series, Terrifyingly Innocent! (this takes place about a year and a half since the ending, i think? i cannot math rn LOL - OC's back from Greece, in her senior year!)

Can be read as a stand alone.

These events never got easier no matter how many of them you attended with Seungcheol. 

Grateful for finding an empty balcony, you threw one last glance over your shoulder, back at your boyfriend chatting with Wonwoo and another heir named Minghao. You figured someone must've cracked a joke as Seungcheol was chuckling into the back of his hand, his lips pressed together tight to prevent himself from spitting any champagne out. Similarly, Wonwoo had that constipated expression on his face where his lips were pulled between his teeth and he looked anywhere but other people. 

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the tall balcony window, draped in purple silk, stepping into the cold night. Goosebumps rose on your arm, but you welcomed the breath of fresh air compared to the stuffiness inside. Your heels clicked against the concrete deck, coming to a halt at the stone railing, slowly drinking in the view beneath you. 

You had imagined that this was what it was like standing from the balcony of Buckingham Palace. Wonwoo’s family had rented out a Victorian mansion on the outskirts of the city for a New Year’s celebration. They had invited several business partners and other elite families – many who you recognized from tabloids, but also many you’ve never seen before. The exterior was largely made of sandstone, including the balcony you were standing on, other parts that have been remodeled were constructed with concrete. Despite the cold weather, the lawns on either side of the stone pathway that you had used to come in earlier, were perfectly green and well-trimmed. The shrubs were empty of leaves, but the branches perfectly clipped – you’d like to think that they had purple flowers spotted amidst them in the spring. For miles and miles were just rolling hills, the occasional oak tree interrupting the perfect curves every now and then. The city skyline was well-defined in the dark night, white and yellow lights flickered in the distance, alive for the festivities. 

The serenity of the night was eerie, but oddly comforting. The cold air pierced your lungs with each breath, but it was better than the humidity of so many bodies packed into one building inside. Part of you wanted to stay by your boyfriend’s side, but the lack of lingering eyes from jealous heiresses or disapproving relatives felt like a weight off your shoulder. You were grateful to spend New Year’s with your boyfriend finally after a year abroad, but smiling when it was forced made your cheeks hurt and made you tired. 

You knew to expect this – dating the one and only heir of Sebong Holdings. Since Seungcheol graduated and started taking on more responsibilities in his father’s business, he had slowly been working his way back into the public eye. People whispered behind his back, awaiting his downfall like five years ago when he made the front cover of magazines with Kyungsoon. Others watched him in awe at how he commanded the room whenever he walked in. Mothers had their daughters lined up at his father’s door, awaiting any minute for a chance to make him their son-in-law. You were thankful that Mr. Choi was supportive of your relationship, but the pressure to be a model girlfriend was overwhelming at times – especially when you were only a senior in university, without a business or a fancy title behind your name. According to Wonwoo, news of Seungcheol seeing a “normal person” had spread among the wealthy, but no one seemed to know your name or status quite yet. 

Yet – that was the keyword. 

“There you are,” Seungcheol mumbled as he engulfed you in a back hug. Still with his suit jacket on, he pulled you into his chest, trying his best to cover your bare arms with either sides of the polyester material and shield you from the night. A chill shot down your spine when he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. 

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, shifting from foot to foot, your heels growing uncomfortable. You twisted to get a better look at him to no avail. 

“Hugging you – what does it look like?” he mumbled. 

You chuckled softly, spinning in his hold to face him. Your hands rested against his abdomen, the fabric of his white collared shirt warm from his skin. You peered up at him through your lashes, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. Despite being together for almost two years now, Seungcheol being this close never failed to make your heart skip a beat. 

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice just low enough for you to hear. His hands rested on your hips. 

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Nothing.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the way your voice shot up an octave. 

“Y/N.”

“It’s fine really,” you looked down at your feet. 

Gently, Seungcheol grabbed your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, tilting your face up to look at him. His brows were crinkled together, the space between them creased in concern, a soft pout taking over his cherry lips. 

“Did someone say something to you?” he asked, his tone rising – you could see his mind spiraling with hypothetical scenarios. “Do I need to talk to someone?”

“No and no,” you pushed his hand off.

“Then what’s bothering you?”

“It’s New Years, we should be happy,” you sighed, “Let’s just . . . forget about it and talk about it later?” A hand perched on his arm, you turned to face the railing again, waving off in the distance. “It’s almost midnight, isn’t it? We’re gonna miss the fireworks.”

He spun you back around into him.”We should be happy, but you’re not, and therefore, I am not.” He tilted his head to the side. “Now, what’s bothering you? We promised to be honest.”

You did – it was stupid promise, but one that the both of you lived by in order to better communicate with one another. You were stubborn and shy with your feelings and Seungcheol hated burdening you with his own. The constant reminder of the promise was one of the few ways you’d get one or the other to talk.

Your eyes flickered up to his face then back to your fingers that were fiddling with buttons on his jacket. You opened your mouth and then closed it again, formulating the words in the back of your mind. Seungcheol was patient, knowing you always needed a minute or two before expressing your thoughts. 

“It’s . . . all of this,” you mumbled.

“This?” Seungcheol cocked an eyebrow at you. 

You let go of his jacket and spread your arms to your side, gesturing at your dress, his suit, the party inside. “This – I don’t know what to call it . . . your . . . lifestyle? These big events with these big names.”

Seungcheol nodded, slowly understanding what you were getting at. “And what about this?”

“I’m . . . truly grateful I get to attend them with you every now and then, let alone be invited on New Year’s Eve in a literal castle,” you looked up, the peak of the building towering over you. “Only a few people could imagine being at an event as beautiful and lavish as this,” You sucked in a shaky breath. “But it gets overwhelming sometimes.”

“Like you don’t deserve it?” Seungcheol pressed further, a hint of sorrow in his tone. 

“A little,” you said in a small voice, “I feel . . . mediocre? By your side. Small – like I don’t matter. Like . . . I’m not good enough for . . . your people.”

“Y/N,” Seungcheol hummed. His hands came up to rub your arms, as if to warm them up. He proceeded to wrap his arms around your shoulders, nesting his chin on your shoulder. 

You chuckled half-heartedly. “It’s stupid – I told you . . . same problem, different day.”

“It’s not stupid, okay?” Seungcheol was quick to remind you. “Even if it is the same problem.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You felt tears pricking at your waterline. You silently cursed yourself for ruining a perfectly beautiful evening – let alone, New Years Eve. 

“What are you sorry for?” Seungcheol chortled. “I’m sorry for not noticing sooner tonight.”

“No,” you whined.

“I am,” he pulled back, frowning at the tears glistening in your eyes. He raised a hand, caressing your cheek, quick to swipe at the first one spilling over. “I love you and that’s all that matters, okay? Big names, rich aunties and uncles – don’t mind them. I want you to be comfortable by my side, but I also know stepping into that role takes time. I’d buy you the whole world if that’s what it takes.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you choked. “And . . . I don’t want the whole world . . .”

“I am, but I would try if you really asked for it,” the corner of Seungcheol’s lips twitched up into a smile. “But I also know,” he slipped both of his hands into your own, “That even if I tell you that right now, it doesn’t really help anyone, so . . . do you wanna get out of here?”

Your lips fell agape at his sudden offer. “The . . . party? And the fireworks?”

“We’ve been here long enough,” Seungcheol tugged at his sleeve, revealing the silver Rolex around his wrist. “As exquisite as you are to look at, I’d rather be comfortable and watch the fireworks with you at home than here. It’s also only eleven – we can make it home in time.”

“Your dad?” you frowned. You didn’t want to disappoint the elder Choi either, not being able to hold up the role as his heir’s soon-to-be-betrothed (in a few years that is.)

Seungcheol shrugged. “Doubt he’d bat an eye – it’s New Year’s after all,” he stepped towards you, the leather soles of his shoes pattering softly against the pavement. “Jihoon can hardly look at us when we talk about kissing . . . you really think he wants to witness what do lover’s do at midnight on nights like this?”

“Wonwoo . . .?”

It’s not that you didn’t want to experience his offer. To this day, he still made you anxious – the good kind of anxious, where butterflies flutter in your belly no matter how hard you clench your abdomen, your throat closes up, and your heart beating erratically. 

“Baby,” Seungcheol threw his head back and stomped his feet playfully. He knew you were just trying to delay the intimate moment longer. “It’s cold outside,” his hand slipped into your own. He flexed his fingers, tightening his grip the second time as he slowly pulled you back towards the balcony door. He smiled at you, saccharine dripping from his eyes, the dimple on the left side of his cheek deepening. 

“Let’s go.”

. . . .

The curtains of the floor-to-ceiling window of Seungcheol’s penthouse were drawn open. The lights of the evening, artificial and natural, spilled into his bedroom, mixing together and casting a haunting blue hue across the floor and his bed where you sat on the edge dressed in one of his hoodies, fuzzy slippers warming your feet. You swung your legs back and forth, admiring the skyline up close now. 

Just exiting the bathroom, Seungcheol quickly clambered onto the bed and sat behind you, his legs on either side of your body. His arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your back into his chest – except this time, there was no suit jacket: just Seungcheol in a plain white t-shirt and his reading glasses, his hair still well-combed from the event earlier. 

“Ten seconds,” Seungcheol whispered into your ear excitedly, peering at his watch sitting on the nightstand next to you. 

“Ten seconds,” you repeated after him, voice equally soft. 

Ten.

“Are we gonna count down out loud or . . .?” his voice trailed off. 

Nine.

“Let’s just . . .” you replied, settling into his body.

Eight.

“Stay like this,” you finished. 

Seven.

“You like the silence?” Seungcheol asked.

Six.

“It’s comfortable.”

Five.

“With you, that is,” you added.

Four.

Seungcheol smirked. “I have something to say though.”

Three.

You hummed softly, letting your head naturally tilt to the side. Seungcheol took it as an opportunity to nuzzle his chin into space. 

Two. 

“Can I say it yet?”

One. 

“So much for silence,” you chuckled. 

The fireworks exploded from a distance, a brilliant gold glittering the sky, followed by a burst of purple and blue. Though the pounding of the fireworks rumbled through your apartment, car horns honked on the streets below, he was the moment.

This was a different Choi Seungcheol you knew from the one clad in a slick black suit earlier. He pouted frequently and couldn't cook well. He was physically affectionate, spending every minute he can laying his head in your lap or his limbs tangled with yours, instead of the shy hold of your hand or the press of his fingers gentle in the small of your back at formal events. This version of Seungcheol preferred spicy tteokbokki from the vendor down the street from your internship to filet mignon on cold days. He felt most content walking down the street with you, hands locked in his pocket and wrapped around a hot pack, rambling about his day and letting his heart lead his words rather than his brain.

And for him, you were the moment. The girl that he might have loved a little longer than he was aware of it. The one who adored cherry blossoms and couldn't dance well. He took photos of without her knowing under the willow tree. She loved him, but she hid it in the depths of the many layers of clothing she wore on the coldest days. She would listen to him until it was dark and her older brother called nagging for her to come back home, mindlessly running her fingers through his hair. It was a burden for anyone to stay by his side, but you stayed nonetheless - even if it was your first relationship.

(He hoped he could also be your last.)

You unraveled yourself from him, Seungcheol willingly released you as you turned around, now standing in between his legs. 

“I’m glad it’s you – whenever, wherever, and always,” Seungcheol said softly. 

“And me, you,” You leaned down, hands resting on his shoulder. “Thank you, truly.”

Smiling into the kiss, your lips locked. Seungcheol was quick to lay back, pulling you down with him, eliciting a small yelp from you. He chuckled heartily, quickly slotting his lips against yours again.

“Happy new year, Y/N,” he whispered between breaths.

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios

[z0mbi3k1d]

Romanticizing life part 1

School 📚

School sucks it's probably the worst part of anyone's day but Hot girls romanticize everything so life becomes more fun and enjoyable. Here are some tips and tricks for romanticizing school!

In class🖊

Do your work!! It's even cuter to be smart and attractive

If you finish your work you can read or doodle

Try and work with friends, it makes the work more fun

Listen to music! Make a playlist specifically for school (I'm not gonna link mine because it's not specifically for school it's just my music taste)

Get cute supplies, your favorite colors or ones with cute little characters on them

Notes 🧷

Highlighters and pens!! They make your work look sooo cute!!

Stickers! They also make your notes look more aesthetic and adorable

Practice handwriting, PLEASE omg my hand writing is so bad I have to practice too but your notes will look so cute

Look up borders on Pinterest and use those on your paper they look so cool fr

Organize your notes, weather it's boxes, bullet lists or lines. It just makes it look neater

Social stuff 🖌

Stay out of drama!! It's not cute!!

Use manners and be polite at all times, no body likes someone with an ugly personality. And if they do that's someone you should satay away from

Have good relationships with teachers, say hi and smile to them, it could make a worlds difference!

Have a positive attitude, not everybody is terrible!

Find a club you enjoy, it's easier to make friends with people who have similar hobbies!

Confidence!! 🖇

Be confident you're hot so act like it!!

Keep your head up high, I know it's scary but you'll look more approachable

Pretend you are your favorite character, act like them

Listen to music that makes you feel confident

Wear clothes that make you feel confident, confidence>>looks

Fun little things 📌

When listening to music in the halls pretend your in a movie/music video

Take pictures and record videos with your friends during any free time for memories

With your friend take a paper and write down sweet things about each other, my friend and I do this and it's really fun

You can also pretend you're the main character in a shojo anime!!

Look good, feel good 🖍

"Life isn't a fashion show" yes it is!! Wear things that make you feel like yourself and you'll win!!

Please wear perfume smelling good is a must!!

Make sure your hair is brushed/fixed and looks good

Make sure your bag looks clean please!

Lunch 🍱

Try and pack your own, it's definitely healthier

Please eat lunch, it's important for you to stay adorable!

If you don't have friends sit near people you think are cool, they might end up talking with you!

If you don't want to do that then you can sit by yourself, people don't usually tend to care if you sit at their table as long as you don't bother them

Links ✂️

Cute Amazon school supplies list:

Upcoming posts 📖

Romanticizing gym class

Downtown girl aesthetic guide (rq)

Thanks for reading!! 🩷

Have a great day pretty girl, stay safe and drink tons of water!!

-Lacey~♡

#aesthetic #girlblogger #real #:3 #just girly things #sillyposting #becoming that girl #it girl #it girl mentality #girl blogger #dream girl #girlhood #girlblogging #this is what makes us girls #this is a girlblog #girly advice #coquette #hell is a teenage girl #hyper feminine #female hysteria #pink academia princess #pink aesthetic #pinkcore #pinterest #manic pixie dream girl #femcel #girly blog #princess blog #self help #self care

[wordsonamission]

hi! can I request Icemav 7 of 14 for the kiss prompts please?

Thanks so much! Sorry for the delay, these ran away with me and got a lot longer than I had originally planned. I hope you like what I ended up writing!

7 – Forehead against forehead

Ice usually found these sorts of places vaguely claustrophobic. A bit rich, coming from someone who made a career out of living with thousands in a floating sardine can, but there was a difference between carrier living and the way that a club’s atmosphere affected every one of his senses. The throb of the music’s bass reverberated in his stomach, the strobing lights gave him a headache, and the endless crush of bodies touching and sweating and writhing together was sensory overload hell.

He retreated out to the patio. His fingers itched to reach for the pack of cigarettes that he no longer carried. A promise was a promise, and he couldn’t go back on a pinkie promise to someone as doe eyed as seven-year-old Bradley Bradshaw. The boy was right, it was a dangerous and disgusting habit, but Ice had always needed something to fiddle between his fingers and the nicotine took a nice edge off of situations like this. Thankfully there were only a couple of smokers on the patio to tempt him with the scent.

“Wolf said I’d find you out here.”

Ice rolled his eyes but didn’t turn. He hoped the night sky would hide the flush on his cheeks that bloomed every time Maverick tucked himself into Ice’s personal space so confidently.

“There’s a bit too much going on in there,” Ice admitted finally. “And it’s not like I want to watch Wolf and Wood go at it in public like that. They have no decency.”

Maverick snorted. “That’s fair. But they’re really happy.” Ice pretended not to hear the wistfulness in his tone.

 “Of all of us, I’m surprised that they’re the first to get out,” Ice said as Maverick stayed silent.

“Wood said he didn’t think he’d pass the sight test anymore.” Mav’s voice was down to nearly a whisper. “But while I guess that could be true, it’s gonna be a lot easier for both of them if they aren’t living with threat of dishonorable discharge dangling over their head every day.”

Ice wet his suddenly dry lips. Now he was the one scanning to make sure they weren’t being overheard. The four other people on the patio weren’t paying any attention, three were chatting with each other and the fourth was heading back inside. Still, his jaw ticked. “There’s always risk.”

“They can actually live together,” Maverick breathed, watching Ice’s face closely.

Ice squirmed under the attention, twisting his lips downward bitterly. “Just because they’re out of the military, that doesn’t mean they’re safe. You know that as well as I do.”

“Still,” Maverick shrugged, “it’s a chance.” He wet his lips, looking up at Ice through his lashes. “D’you think we’ll ever get a chance?”

Ice’s heart lurched. The words were right on the tip of his tongue – no, they wouldn’t ever get to live the way they wanted. Unless a lot of things changed about society, their love would always have to be a dirty little secret, the ticking time bomb that threatened their security and happiness. But Maverick was a dreamer and lived so fearlessly. He was more uncomfortable living a lie than he was afraid of the consequences of being caught. Ice envied his courage and didn’t have the strength to deny his hopes.

“I don’t know, Mav. Maybe someday.”

Pain flashed across Maverick’s face but he hid it well. He nodded to himself as much as to Ice, dropping his gaze to the concrete. He kicked at a couple of cigarette butts with the toe of his boot and hunched his shoulders as if he was suddenly cold.

Grumbling a curse, Ice stepped forward and grabbed Maverick’s elbow. Mav startled, off-balance, and looked up in shock. Ice knocked their foreheads together gently, lingering a bit too long as warmth seeped between their skin. The contact was as sweet as any kiss and carried just as much heady promise. Maverick inhaled on a shuddering breath and clutched at Ice’s sleeve to hold him close.

“I hope so,” Ice confessed, his voice raw and ragged. “God, I hope so.”

Ice bunted his jaw against Maverick’s temple before he stepped away. One last point of searing contact. If anyone had been watching them closely, they might have seen how Ice’s lips briefly connected with Maverick’s hairline. Or they might have seen how Maverick squeezed Ice’s arm before releasing his white-knuckle grip. But no one was paying attention, so they were safe for another day.

14 – Kissing under the stars

 The waves rushed in and out over the sand, their ebb and flow as predictable and soothing as a cat’s purr. Maverick lost himself to the sound and let himself float. Everything hurt, despite the painkillers he had been forced to take, lest he be forced to endure the wrath of Ice’s infamous Disappointed Eyebrow. The meds gave him a floaty head and slowed his reflexes in exchange for turning down the brightness of the agony along his spine.

The canvas beach lounger next to him creaked. Ice made as few concessions to his age as possible, but conceding that it was easier to stand up from an actual chair than directly from the sand was one of them. He retaliated by keeping one foot off of the lounger, his toes buried in the sand, as he turned the pages of his book.

“Light's going,” Maverick said into the comfortable quiet between them. The sunset was faded to its final orange and pink blush. He watched as the color danced across the water’s surface. Maybe the pills were stronger than he thought.

Ice hummed thoughtfully but didn’t look up. Maverick knew from experience that he could read with very little light. And no, that was not the reason for his glasses, though they’d had that argument before. Maverick didn’t want to hear about how white pages reflected light and knew that Ice wouldn’t bear any repeating of the electronic reader discussion, so he just laughed and watched the water glitter while listening to Ice’s steady breathing.

There had been a while when it didn’t seem like they’d get to have these quiet moments ever again. Cancer was a bitch, treatment for it was somehow worse, and Maverick couldn’t help but throw himself into dangerous situations just to feel some sort of control. But now Ice was firmly into remission and Maverick was home. He tried not to think about the fact that they would both be retired within the year. Ice had earned the rest and the proper send-off. It was Maverick who didn’t feel ready.

Time slipped away like the grains is sand that he carded between his fingers. The temperature dropped precipitously without the sun, reminding him that it was November. Even sunny San Diego conceded that it was best to spend a few months of the year with cooler weather. Maverick found the edge of coolness exhilarating, but the night air would make Ice cough.

Ice, in tune to Maverick’s moods as usual, sighed and put down his book. His face tipped up to the sky, watching as a few stars poked through the purply dark of the urban night sky.

 “Light pollution ruins the view,” Ice grumbled.

“We should spend some time at the hangar,” Maverick agreed. “You’d love the sky out there.”

Ice hummed again. Maverick laughed softly. Dragging a beach creature like Ice that far away from water always took some extra special coaxing.

Maverick pushed up off the sand and straddled Ice’s lap, pressing his sandy palms against Ice’s cheeks. Ice raised an eyebrow and smirked but didn’t complain. His hands rose automatically to Maverick’s hips, absently sneaking up under his shirt to press on bare skin.

 “Wanna head in?”

 Ice shook his head. “The view’s too pretty to leave yet,” he purred, smirk deepening as Maverick blushed. More than thirty years together and his flattery still went straight to Maverick’s heart.

“Surely you don’t mean this,” Maverick said, gesturing to his face. “I’ve been called out for being an old man more in the last couple of weeks than I’ve heard in the last couple of years. It’s starting to get to my head.”

“You’re not old, you’re experienced. Those hotshot children haven’t lived long enough to know the difference.”

Maverick grinned. “Look at you. Mr. Iceman, gone all soft and sweet.” He rubbed his sandy thumbs into Ice’s stubble, just to make him complain about the itch.

“Still incorrigible, I see,” Ice snorted. He seized the back of Maverick’s neck and drew him down to kiss. Maverick leaned into the embrace, relishing their easy give and take. Ice kissed confidently and touched Maverick in exactly the right way to have them both panting in no time.

“We’d better go in,” Maverick said regretfully, “or someone’s gonna complain.”

 “Who?” asked Ice, gesturing to the empty beach. “It’s just us.”

“It’s getting cold. And we have much more comfortable furniture in the house.”

 “That’s true.” Ice pretended to consider the options with all the gravity of his four-star status. “I suppose the suggestion has merit.”

The only warning Maverick got was a playful glimmer in Ice’s eyes before he pinched Maverick’s waist, making him squawk and fall off of Ice’s lap back into the sand.

“I can’t believe you actually did that!” Maverick complained, feigning displeasure. Ice just laughed, heaving himself out of the chair.

“The fastest way to get you moving is to give you the right motivation,” Ice deadpanned gravely. “Now come on, let’s take this discussion inside.”

Maverick leered and made a great show of snapping his beach towel against Ice’s butt in retaliation, even though he knew that the heavy put-upon sigh was going to be the only response he got. Sobering fast, his step faltered as he followed Ice up the beach with their stuff to the house.

Their house, where they shared the same bed every night. Friends visited them there openly and the address was listed on their Navy paperwork. It was no secret that they were in love and that they were married.  There were some benefits to the passage of time, and Maverick would take some aches and pains if it meant that he no longer had to hide how much he loved Ice.

#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun fic #wordsonamission writes

[infectedollysworld]

— ꒰‧⁺ NEED A LIFT? ☁️ *ೃ༄

ଓ.° [ ren x a GN!DOM!reader ] [ SFW ]

•ଓ.° ren sits patiently on your bed as he waits for you to come back into your room. he waits and waits and waits, until you request a favor.

[ REN BELONGS TO @14dayswithyou ]

[ ren brainrot because obvi ] [ 18+ media! ]

———————————————————

ren sits patiently in your bedroom, waiting for you to return from the kitchen.

you’d gone to grab something with zero explanation. the simple “be right back” you’d shot at him before you left the room made his chest a bit heavy.

it wasn’t that he was afraid of you not returning, this was your own apartment after all.. unfortunately.

he just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

but if you’d asked him to sit, he’d stay.

he glances up at the ceiling, visualizing your stunning figure above him, just as it was not even five minutes ago. your hand resting on his shoulder, patting it softly as he sat comfortably on the plush mattress. “wait here, ren” you beam, before lifting your hand off of him.

peering up at you from such an angle left him completely breathless. you looked so.. in control.

like you exactly how easily he'd listen.

his eyes, glazed over and glossy, widen in surprise once he overhears something loud fall to the ground.

*THUD*

he rushes into the kitchen, locking eyes with yours as he wails, “are you okay?!”

you smile at the man down the hall, arms extended into one of the cupboards above. “i’m fine honey, thank you.”

he makes his way over to where you stand, peering down at the ground to see exactly what caused the ruckus.

a box, toppled to its side lays on the floor beside your feet. partially opened, ren can see the contents inside. it’s packed with dishes, wrapped in rough paper to prevent them from breaking.

glancing over once more, his gaze immediately diverts onto your legs. how your calves tighten as you balance on your toes, extending your fingers, desperately attempting to reach the box. he felt a bit bad watching you struggle like so, but he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“ugh!” you slam your heels on the floor, sighing in defeat. leaning against the counter to catch your breath for a moment, your eyes shoot open as they dart over to ren.

“hey.. you’re tall! could you help me get this box down up here?” internally beating yourself up for not asking him sooner.

darting his gaze upward, he shyly looks at the box you were pointing at, afraid of getting caught.

“of course.”

swiftly shifting closer to you, he practically traps you with his body. his tall figure towering over your small one. a hand rests against the rim of the counter, his thumb grazing the side of your hip. he extends his other arm above you, his chest appearing closer and closer to your face the more he leans, his scent fulfilling your nostrils.

you can practically hear his heart hammering through his ribcage.

you grin.

grabbing at his elbow, you put a halt to his movement.

he looks down at you, in fear that he’d done something wrong. maybe he'd gotten too ahead of himself? he just wanted to help out? and—

“not like that, ren.”

he slumps his risen arm, resting his two hands on both sides of your body.

“can you lift me?” you softly utter, your index finger grazing the hem of his cardigan.

he jerks, mouth agape as his heavy eyes settle on your lips.

“a-anything for you.”

bright-eyed, you pat at your thighs, signifying the way you want to be lifted.

he lowers himself on one knee for an easier arrangement.

glancing upwards yet again, he’s met with your smiling face. the vision of you earlier appears before him once more. breathtaking.

you really do relish having him beneath you, and he really wouldn’t have it any other way.

his lovestruck puppy eyes glance at the waistband of your shorts.

giggling, you circle around him and place one of your legs on his shoulders. his heart jumps at the warm contact of your thighs. you then place your other leg on him, wiggling around his neck to secure yourself.

his heartbeat practically blasts throughout his ears as his cheeks flush an even darker shade of scarlet.

his body is hot to the touch, his layers of clothing not making him any cooler. his fingers twitch and ache as he holds you in place with both hands, pressing your legs even closer to his face, your plush thighs feeling all the more comfortable against his cheeks.

he hopes you feel how hot his face is. he hopes you understand how much he’d do for you. he hopes you realize how much he cares.

he wants to rest you on the couch, his head between your legs as he gets lost in his bottomless obsession with you.

but he can’t. he has to wait just a little while longer.

after all, he is a patient man.

— WRITTEN BY INFECTEDDOLLYSWORLD, 🥀

#crazy obsessed with this man #I LOVE HIM #14 days with you #itch.io #visual novel #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #DOLLYSWRITING ✎