#whenever one runs up to me unleashed

[essenteez]

𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 || yunho

"falling in love with your best friend feels like eighth deadly sin."

"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You made a tough decision that left you absolutely devastated. Falling in love with your best friend was unacceptable. You got to leave. The method was slowly vanishing from Yunho's life until he would get used to your abstance. Deep down, a voice kept telling you it was the right choice. However, Yunho never meant to let you go as he stood in your door on one rainy spring evening, demanding an explanation.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Yunho × (f)reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Angst, smut

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receiving), tongue fuck, anal fingering, ass smacking, missionary, deep penetration, pet names

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 6k

Is it possible to feel like your decision, at the same time, is the best and the worst? As if you’re attempting to go both ways, feeling like your body is ripping apart.

You asked some of your friends about it, desperate for a helpful answer.

"Depends.'' they always shrugged, which only meant they had the same idea about it as you did. Read as none.

In the beginning, you thought your approach to the problem would be the best solution for both him and yourself. However, the more time had passed, the more it all felt like the most fanciful of tortures.

Nothing had happened between you two, nothing deep enough that you could hold on to. So why, why did you keep failing to convince yourself that everything you went through was for the best. Was it because of guilt that was eating you alive whenever he looked hurt by the distance you had been widening for the past four months? Or because that was a normal reaction after sacrificing something important for a better cause? You were doing that for both of you, especially for him. Your intentions were good. Why wasn't it working?

And now there you were, completely frozen, face to face with him in the late spring evening as he suddenly banged on your door, ten minutes after you ignored his text once more.

You were now staring at the upset man in front of you. Due to shock, you couldn't look away. You allowed his eyes to burn into you.

He was drenched from the pouring rain outside, standing at your door that you should've never opened. His expression and posture reminded you of a wild animal that was about to attack you.

Your hand trembled on the knob as you contemplated slamming the door in his stoic but serious face. All you wanted to do was crawl under your bedsheets to hide for the rest of your miserable life.

You were wrong from the very beginning. You didn't put on any sacrifice. You've been running away like a coward, and at that very moment, you were about to receive your punishment.

"We need to talk, don't you think?" The jaw muscles tensing up under his skin as he almost hissed the words out.

You had to get away from him, as far as possible. Far away, so it was easier for you to breathe again. It was time to dig through the long list of excuses that, to be honest, you were running out of.

"I was actually getting ready to leave for a night out with girls, so can we…"

His index finger pointed in your face, which stopped you from continuing the poor act.

"This is the only chance I'm giving you to explain what's happening, (y/n). If you close this fucking door on me…" he hesitated but the power in his voice didn't weakened, "you'll never see me again."

The breath abruptly left your lungs. You swore your heart stopped for a second just to restart its beating with double the speed. You heard your blood pumping in your veins as the inner panic unleashed from his words that were like a magic spell.

There was no bluff in his words. He didn't mean to scare you, despite him knowing you were vulnerable for empty threats like that. The warning was absolutely backed up. You could see it by the way he stood there before you, how he clenched his fists, the way he looked at you with devouring anger in his brown eyes.

No doubt, you crossed all possible lines. And you had no idea how to handle the consequences. You knew one thing, you'd rather die than never see him again.

"What do you mean?" You still tried, wishfully thinking he spoke about something else.

No answer came your way. He simply passed you by and stormed inside your apartment. You were too scared to protest, not after the eyes he gave you before walking in.

You slowly closed the door, in need of every second to gather all the shreds of courage you had in you. There wasn't much.

Somewhat ready to get eaten alive by the unbearable remorse, you finally turned around. However, he disappeared from your eyes' reach.

"Yunho…"

"You still have some of those spare clothes I left once after a party?" He yelled from what you realized was your bedroom. "I'm totally soaked."

The last thing you cared about now was wet stains on your wooden floor, spreading from the door through the living room up to your bedroom and glistening in the weak lamp light.

You couldn't form a word, every sound was caged in your throat. The anxiety began its biggest harvest inside you. You felt all the strength leaving your body. All you could muster up was standing on your two feet in the middle of your living room, and that alone was impressive in your current state.

You were registering his steps in the other room. Yunho walked into the bathroom to get rid of the wet clothes. He spoke to himself about how nice that the dryer was there. Then he reentered the bedroom and next you heard nothing but his loud sighs.

"Come here." His voice had little volume to it, but the depth of its tone resonated in your ears and echoed in your whole being. The command was crystal clear and sent a set of sharp shivers down your spine.

You let your feet lead you to the doorframe of your room. However, you stopped them there.

He was sitting on your bed, aggressively rubbing the towel on his wet hair. He wore his plain black T–shirt and pair of gray sweatpants you stored in your drawer after he forgot it months ago. He looked like he had just walked out of the shower.

"Do you hate me?" He asked suddenly, still not looking at you. "Maybe I scared you with something I said or did?"

You wanted to refuse, feeling your heart cracking even more, but no sound left your dry mouth.

He, on the other hand, had a lot to say.

"Did I do something wrong, hmm? Cause I've spent three months going back and forth to all our meetings, and I genuinely don't know what that would be." He laughed bitterly, still drying his thick black hair.

You felt like shrinking while the guilt that kept growing towered over you unforgivably. You had seen Yunho angry before but never at you. Why were you so stupid to think it would never reach you after all you had done?

A tint of sadness invaded his chords, "You suddenly started to avoid me, mumble something under your nose instead of answering me, or you have been straight up ignoring me. You don't pick up my calls or respond to my texts and if you do it's always the same shit 'I'm busy, will call you later' which is bullshit cause you never do, (y/n)."

The tears showed up in your eyes, and you bit your lip to stop them from pouring out like a tidal wave.

He noticed it. The hand with a towel dropped on his legs.

"I don't know, did someone tell you we can't be friends or make you feel bad about it?"

Yes. Me. You cried inside your jumbled mind.

"No." You uttered, swallowing your tears.

"Then what?" He urged, aggressively tossing the towel aside after he turned it into a damp ball. Now, all his attention was paid to you, and you felt bare under his eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you." You whispered, the lump in your throat only grew.

"The truth, (y/n)." He begged. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, then fine, I can't force you. But after all this time and memories we've made, I think I deserve to hear a reason behind your decision. Not to mention everything was fine 'till Hongjoong's birthday."

Him, now linking the dots, made you feel as icy needles ruched in your blood, tearing your veins.

Something did happen at your friend's birthday party. One innocent game, alcohol untying people's mouths, and you ended up begging God to help you erase that night from your head.

You thought you kept your composure after drunk Bona spilled her crush on your best friend. This one sentence that she sang toward him smashed the glass of denial and released all the spirits of truth. The realization hit you like thunder, and the effects never left with time.

After that, you slowly, nor drastically, began walking away. Your behavior should not have been seen as related to that party's events.

If it was so clear to Yunho, was it obvious to everybody else?

Although he was right.

What were you thinking? It is Yunho, we're talking about. He would never leave a problem untouched when he saw one. There was nowhere to run and hide now, and it never had been.

You reached your hand to the light switch and let the room get embraced by darkness. There was no option for him to see the shame on your face when you would be telling him the issue that tormented both of you.

He didn't say anything, handing you the mic.

You walked inside the room and slid to the wall, calling on it for support. You were placed in front of him but at a safe but far distance.

"I love you." You confessed, shaking like a leaf. "I don't know what is happening, but I know I want you so much. Every inch of me craves for you, and I lost all control over my own self when it comes to you to the point I can't sleep at night, eat, or think straight. I've never felt like this before, about anyone. And we're best friends. I have no right…" The guilt caged your voice.

The silence on his side was crushing. That was the end. You had nothing to lose.

You took a deep breath, "That's why I've avoided you and purposely ignored you. I have to stay away, Yunho. For both of our sakes."

You heard him taking a few deep breaths.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Somehow, his voice bore the accusation.

"I was scared of rejection." You chuckled at your miserable position. "The girls laughed that I sounded absolutely obsessed when I told them about this. They said they were only joking, but I started wondering and got scared. What if I am? You asked if you scared me with something. You didn't. I'm scared of myself. Because…no one sane acts like that. No one sane falls in love with their friend."

As you finished the confession, you dared to look his way. Your eyes got used to the dark, and you managed to see his darkened features.

The left side of his face was slightly illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room. You were watched intensively as he was eyeing you up.

His upper body was leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread knees. He looked…disappointed? Angry? You couldn't really tell. However, his deep breathing betrayed that the chaos you let out in indeed affected him.

The question was how would he accept what you brought upon him.

"I'm sorry." You breathed out on the edge of crying. You felt awful by ruining your amazing friendship. "Truly."

He submerged his finger in his damp fuzzy hair and then proceeded to wipe his face. He seemed deep in thought. You watched how he stroked his thighs a few times before standing up.

"Yunho…" you gulped, seeing him closing the distance between you.

He was getting dangerously close.

"Please, stop."

The man listened to your command. Still, he halted only half a meter from you. Yunho gave you a second to calm down, let your guard down, therefore you had no time for reaction as his arm suddenly reached out for your hand, grabbing your wrist firmly, and began pulling you close to him.

You quietly whimpered, trying to twist your hand out of his grasp, but there was no use. He mercilessly dragged you until your bodies met.

You couldn't look up, not with all the panic thriving inside you. However, he did not mean to stop. You felt his finger underneath your chin, and suddenly, you found yourself looking in his eyes that shone with a new light in the dark room.

"I would never reject you." He let out a firm but gentle whisper. "What do you think that I came here for? To fight for you."

The bangs of his wet hair tickled your forehead. He stood so close to you like he only ever did in your intrusive thoughts and uncontrolled fantasies. You had no choice but to let his scent of cologne and rain embrace you from all sides.

"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."

The touch of his lips was more than you imagined. You whimpered into his mouth, at which he responded with a smile. You fought not to push him away from the intensity of your surprise. Everything was happening too fast and not how you had seen it in your head for uncountable times when thinking about the face-off.

Yunho kissed you slowly as if he was giving you time to get used to his touch and his taste. He let go of your wrist, and after gently putting your arm around his neck, he carefully wrapped your waist. His other hand moved from your chin on the side of your head. The embrace tightened.

You couldn't say you just allowed him to pull you close to him. You were like a ragdoll. The rollercoaster of severe emotions took away your will to move. He could’ve done anything he wanted to do to you, placed you anywhere he needed you to be. You were completely frozen.

Yunho was considerate of your state and didn’t want to push you. He broke the kiss and pulled his head back to look at you with a slight smile that showed understanding.

"Do you want me to leave you alone? If you need time and talk about it once you’re ready, I’ll wait." He assured you, the gentleness in his tone making your heart flutter. "I’ll wait as long as you need me to."

"I– I don’t know." You stuttered, no volume to your weak voice. "W– what would you want?:

"Can I be indecently honest?"

You nodded, the hope sparking in your heart.

"I want to stay. I missed you so much. For the past months, whenever we met, I felt like you were light years away despite you standing right beside me. So I want to kiss all your doubts and fears away so we both never feel that way again. I want to hold you close, taste you. I want to relearn my name as you moan it all night long. I want you. I've wanted you for so long." He flooded you with the confession that held much more fire and confidence than yours from a minute ago.

You trembled in his arms, grabbing more onto his shirt at his back as he wiped away a single tear that managed to escape and roll on your redden cheek. It felt like a dream, and you felt the familiar anxiety of the moment you would have to wake up as it happened all the time before.

After all these months of pain from keeping yourself away from the man you've been falling in love with, feeling like he was slipping through your hands with your own help, you were a shadow of a woman. You were a ruin.

"What’s your decision?"

But the will to fix everything that was broken smoldered inside you, and you felt that with the right blow of wind, it would turn into impressive flames.

"Stay."

He quickly groaned at your allowance, and your faces got close again. Both his arms now embraced your waist and back.

"Of all the things I just said, which one do you want me to do the most?" He asked, his lips brushing yours.

"Everything." You breathed out without hesitation. Experiencing the long yearning, you needed to feel everything, from innocence to obscene.

Your lips interlocked again, but this time, nothing tamed you for kissing him back as you had always desired.

With every breath between, the kiss was getting hotter, wetter. Your tongues twirled in a wild dance, teeth hooking on each other's lips. With quiet whimpers and moans, you drove each other crazy.

His damp hair was tangled in your inpatient fingers that massaged the back of his head and neck. He moaned in your lips from the affection. The sweet adlip instantly woke up the aching between your legs.

You felt the wall behind your back again. One of his arms left your waist and was placed above your head.

He broke the kiss, "You really thought that Bona's confession meant anything to me?" He panted, his half closed eyes never leaving your lips.

So he found the answer. He did mention he studied all three months of your random change.

"I didn't know what it meant to you. I was too scared to think about it. It just made me realize my feelings for you, and I feared for our friendship."

"And your solution to save our friendship was to stay away?"

"I'm sorry."

He clenched his jaw, and that alone was enough to double your already crazy heart rate. His eyes were pitch black, his brows frowned.

"It makes me really angry." He groaned. "To think your first thought was that I would reject you. That you asked yourself that tough question and saw no hope. That you went for the wrong answer. As if I ever gave you a reason to doubt."

"I'm sorry."

"It's me who's sorry, (y/n)."

You moaned at the speed he attacked your lips again. He didn't graced them for long with his unsatisfied affection as he moved onto your jaw, then sensitive neck.

You felt how his body pinned you to the wall. With the power he pushed into you, he picked you up. You were gasping for air from the waves of pleasure shaking your body as his hungry mouth kissed, licked, and bit on your skin.

"You always smell so fucking good." He cooed sultry, placing his hands under your ass, forcing you to put your legs onto his hips.

He pushed himself with you in his arm off the wall and began walking you two to your bed.

You were released from his tight embrace and let him push you on the sheets. With aw, you watched him remove his shirt, putting his beautifully shaped torso and abs on display.

"Now's your turn." He snarled.

His hands went down to your cotton, loose shirt, and ripped it apart with one pull. Your bare breasts bounced free. You only now remembered you had no bra on.

"Yunho–"

But he didn't care about your surprise. He just gently laid on your side, supporting his weight on his elbow. His chest rubbed on your right breast in a slow massage that had you wave underneath him.

"Goddamn it, (y/n)."

His hand embraced your neck, giving it a little squeeze. You watched it going down to your chest, between your naked breasts, and then lower on your stomach where his wrist twisted to go south. Now, you had his long fingers getting dangerously close to your throbbing folds.

You grabbed the sheets at the touch of his fingertip.

"Ahh.."

"I'm not the one who's getting soaked tonight." He smirked watching how your wetness spread underneath your leggings as his middle finger circled on your clit.

He wanted more, your loud moans too accompanying your flooding nectar. Two fingers decisively entered your pussy as the thumb worked on your pearl.

"Oh my…" you whined, arching your back.

To make your torture more difficult, he leaned his lips to your ear and began feeding your mind with the obscene.

"You're always so wet when I'm on your mind, kitten? Do your fingers fuck this dripping cunt like mine are now when your all alone?" He whispered, his breaths tickling your neck, "I can assure you, I walk hard all day because of you."

The image of him stroking himself fast, rough while moaning your name was a perfect way to bring you closer to the edge as his fingers now fucked you with a full speed.

"Yes." He grunted, satisfied with your whimpers and trembling pelvis. "Cum for me."

Yunho drank the sweetest sounds of euphoria from your lips. Your cute moans were like ambrosis for his ears. He craved for more, his soul, heart, and ego demanded more.

He sucked on the skin of your neck as his hand massaged the last ounces of orgasm from you.

"I dreamed of this so many times (y/n) – my fingers, all sticky and wet from your juices."

"Yunho…" you begged. "Please."

The yearning for him or his words along with skillful touch; you couldn't tell, but something was making you lose your sanity way too fast.

Yunho smug eyes began reading your needs. He just licked his lips before walking away to let the room bask in light again.

With the cover of the dark, you felt more secure. Now you laid there, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes watching you, even though the only person in the room with you was Yunho, who just nonchalantly stood there; one hand on the light switch, and the other, that just were inside you, on his sticked out tongue.

Unconsciously, you began closing your legs, putting hands over your chest, but he was quick to stop you.

He agility climbed on to you. Now you had his weight pinning you down, his slim pelvis between your thighs and his hands holding your hands about your head.

"Don't you even hide from me again." He warned you, looking you deep in the eyes.

His arm found its way under you, and with one pull, he moved you further up the bed before he raised himself and sat on his hills.

"I forgot to ask before ripping off your shirt," he smiled adorably, "but do you cherish your leggings?"

Knowing what was coming and feeling more than just excited about it, you shook your head.

Your soaked leggings and underwear shared the same fate as your shirt. With no hesitation, Yunho grabbed them in his fingers and ripped them apart.

You felt the cold licking your dripping slit, wishing it was that man's tongue.

"I had to turn the light back on." He grinned while studying your quivering folds. "I had to see it in detail."

His brow raised, and his eyes became absent as if they recalled something, a thought he cherished.

"I'm genuinely unable to count how many nights I imagined your taste." He voiced it. "How would you feel on my tongue. So soft and warm."

You shivered at those words. The way he said it, the way he watched you with almost worship… Yunho finally found himself on the spot he longed to be for many months.

"It's all yours." You whimpered.

He looked in your eyes again, searching for a bluff, but he was visibly relieved to see your genuine, needy expression.

"Put your pretty ass up for me, please."

You did what you were told, getting rid of the shirt, well now its shreds. Arching your back as your upper body stretched on the bed, you stuck your slightly circling butt towards him.

A gasp left your mouth as the smack landed on your plump cheek. It was sudden but more than welcomed.

"Somehow, I've always known you're filthy." He snickered, clearly glad of your reaction.

"There are a lot of things you have not found out about me yet." You uttered, biting your lip with a smile.

You flinched from another hit that left a stingy feeling and added another flood of your juices between your thighs. There was no option to not let the moan escape your chords.

"I can say the same about you." He growled as if you were about to learn something forbidden.

You felt how he grabbed your ripped leggings and slid it off your hips, down to your knees.

The warmth of his tongue almost made you cry. You grabbed the sheet between your teeth. Slow, but firm licks were meant to have you beg in a second. However, your taste was too much for Yunho to play the game of teasing any further.

He spread your cheeks and dived in deeper.

The man put his whole spirit to savor you with the way his tongue lapped on your folds, latched on your quivering core. He fed on your uninhibited wails that Yunho could swear were a balm to his heart that almost got broken today if you had not opened the door.

He now knew you were his, the same way he belonged to you. Completely. Equal in this healthy obsession.

The essence on his lips worked like the best aphrodisiac for his nature. He wanted to have you loud in pleasure, trembling in ecstasy. For a moment, he craved to control all over your being. Just so you could feel loved, desired, and perfect. So you could see yourself through his eyes.

His tongue found its way inside you. It was sudden, unexpected but more than appreciated.

"Ahh, yes." You hissed, the sheet ripping in your fists.

Yunho shifted his position to have better access to you. Your eyes rolled back at the depth he was penetrating you with. Long, skillfully muscle waved and curled within your walls.

His thumb began drawing circles around your upper hole. Gently, hesitant at first, but your appreciation for his tease made him brave enough to go inside.

With his tongue and thumb sunk inside, Yunho was at the finish of shaping a devastating orgasm for you.

Your face twisted with unbearable pleasure. Moans sent his way were full of gratitude and admiration for his mastery. For a few moments this man managed to make you feel like flying, see the stars above.

He abandoned your holes when he felt the last shreds of bliss left you. You fell flat on your bed, trying to bring yourself down on earth.

Yunho took his time to climb up your spine with juicy kisses, at the same time getting rid of his pants and underwear.

"Yunho." You called him between deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"Yes, beautiful?' He planted a kiss on your shoulder.

You touched his arm.

"Claim me."

He froze above you. You only felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Somehow, it had you alerted.

You slowly turned on your back, still caged between his arms. His eyes were dark, full of unknown, to you, thoughts. Maybe what you needed from him sounded too much of a commitment. You confessed your feelings. You made him aware of your love. Yet…he didn't say anything back. Only that he wanted you.

"Will you?" You asked quietly, too scared to put any volume to not scare him away or worse, make him realize it was a mistake.

Still with this mysterious expression, he laid onto you, skin to skin. Your faces so close, you could see your reflection in his eyes.

"Like my life depends on it." He said into your lips, tone heavy with sweet threat. "In fact, it does."

You interlocked in a kiss that felt like a seal to what just occurred rather than simple affection. He kissed you deeply, desperately, but most of all you sensed a gratitude.

His velvet hardness began grinding on your sensitive spot with subtle yet decisive moves, lubricating his length with your wetness in the process.

You broke the kiss from all the air leaving your lungs. He was hard, hot against your skin, begging to enter you. And your pussy cramped at the pleas, more violently each second.

"Please."

He put his forehead to yours. Took a few deep breaths before he finally said:

"I love you."

Only then he allowed himself to push inside.

The words you had wanted to hear for so long and the soul easing fullness have tears falling from your eyes. He groaned at your tightness that engulfed him and spasmed around him. The warmth and your nectars embraced him whole.

You gasped loudly as he moved further, concurring more inches of your inferior. Yunho was exactly how you imagined him to be. Long and thick, with popping veins that rubbed on your walls. You moaned, whined, and squirmed with every push and pull.

"Can I go faster?" He wiped your tears of joy away.

"Yes." You panted. "You can now."

After a slow pull, he pinned into you with power, having you gasp in sudden pleasure.

He leaned on the side, now nuzzling your ear.

"You're taking me so well. I knew you would." He whispered, and if all your nerves weren't already awakened, now they were.

The pace fastened. He was taking you, fully almost possessive. He went deep, attacking your sweet spot with even but strong hits. The sound you made bordered with sobbing.

He raised up on his knees, now straddling your leg. The other one ended up over his shoulder. Only when he re‐entered you, you realized why he chose such a position. He reached depths you didn't know anyone could.

"Fuck." You cried out.

Yunho fucked you however he felt fit, placing kissing on your inner thighs as he hugged your leg while doing it. He winded and whirled his hips as he thrusted inside your defenseless cunt.

The release was approaching with no mercy.

"I'm so close." You grabbed his muscular thigh with both hands.

"I know, baby. I know." He moaned as your walls' texture rubbed onto him even more now that you were almost orgasming. You cramped around him, sucking his width unforgivably.

"Fill me in, please. I need your cum inside me." You couldn’t help but beg when the speed and force he was obliterating you with was too overwhelming. You had to have him burst inside. It was what you mean by claiming you, owning you.

He cursed loudly and leaned over, shifting his weight on his arms.

"You have no idea what you've just started."

The new position allowed the man to put on even more speed and power, pushing you off the cliff, straight to the void of the most heavenly bliss.

The euphoria embraced you from all sides. A flow of your juices flooded his cock, making it harder, too hard to not to explode.

"Oh fuck, yes." He whined and soon joined you in ecstasy. He pumped inside with low grunts leaving his throat, and you melted over the feeling of hot load, every last drop nourishing every corner of you.

He slid out after a few soothing pushes, followed by his semen. Yunho didn't have to watch this physical proof he claimed you. He knew you all his. He just lowered down and caught your weak frame in a tight, warm embrace.

Both calmed yourselves down by inhaling your scents, so familiar yet so new.

His eyes when he finally landed at you were smiling, all dreamy. You knew what Yunho's happy face looked like, and it was all plastered on his features right now.

You felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest at the sight. He was happy because of you. You made him this joyful.

"You love me." You slipped. The excitement and emotion didn't allow you to keep quiet.

He kissed you and kept smiling.

"You have no idea."

You didn't hide this time when Yunho watched you as if he learned your details by heart. You wanted him to see the woman and all her love she got for him.

"Come." He said and got off the bed. "We both need a long and hot shower."

"Soaking again?" You giggled lazily, admiring this Adonis of a man that now stood in front of you in all his glory. You bit your lips at the view of his glistening pride, knowing it all was for you to love and pleasure.

Seeing your eyes wandering all over him, Yunho couldn't help but smirk at your bluntness. He then leaned over to kiss your forehead.

"Better get used to it."

You realized how stupid you were to think you could live without his melodic laugh.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez yunho #atz yunho #yunho smut #yunho oneshot #yunho imagines #jeong yunho #yunho daddy #ateez 18+

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | x.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Disbelief shimmers in William’s green gaze.

“You’re joking…” He cradles your face, searching your eyes. They are steadily filling with tears. He releases you, retreating as his face distorts with shock. “You’re…not?” He runs his fingers through his brown locks. “God, I’m such an idiot.” He unleashes a humorless laugh. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your stomach sinks. 

“This entire time. I waited for you. I trusted you. And you just…What? A-Are you with him now?” The betrayal quivering in his tone shatters your heart to pieces. 

You lower your head and mumble, “It’s complicated…”

“No it’s not. It’s actually quite simple. Do you love him or do you love me? Do you want to marry me or do you want to marry him?”

William’s anger and frustration coat the air, his voice growing louder with every word. You tremble. Your fiancé’s never yelled at you like this before. You’ve argued, of course, like every couple does. But never like this. And never has he looked at you like that. Like you’re a stranger. You wish the earth would open up and swallow you. 

“I…”

“Answer me!”

You jolt and step back, the heel of your shoe hitting the bottom of the stairs. 

Your father appears in the corner of your vision. An exhale of surprise leaves you. He wedges himself between you and William.

“Do not dare raise your voice at my daughter, young man,” Strabo thunders. You gape at his back. It’s the first time you’ve heard your dad use such a furious tone of voice. 

William lifts his hands defensively.

“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand-”

“I think it’s best if you go. Now,” your father urges, pointing at the door. 

Your fiancé’s shoulders sag. He tosses you one last, heavy look, his jaw clenching.

“Yeah, maybe it’s for the best,” he belatedly grits out. 

The second William slams the door shut, you’re in your father’s arms. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks drench his shirt.

“Dad…”

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

He rubs soothing circles on your back as you bury your head in his chest. You sniffle as a sob spills from your throat.

You doubt anything will ever be okay. 

The rest of the day is spent in your room weeping underneath your blankets. It’s a wonder there’s any water left in your body, the ceaseless flow of tears soaking your pillows and sheets. Ma and Dad keep visiting your room, bringing you food and trying their best to lighten your spirits.

But nothing can keep you from drowning in your sorrows. William was the best thing that ever happened to you. You remember when you first met him at the University. The two of you were paired for a project and ended up hitting it off while working together. You didn’t even expect him to ask you out. It was no secret half the girls in your cohort harbored a crush on him. And with his boyish charm and outgoing personality, a contrast to your more withdrawn, lonely nature, you never imagined he’d seek your company past the project. 

But he did, constantly finding lame excuses to talk to you like asking for your notes on a class or lying about needing a pen for a quizz. One thing led to another and, after a few months of courting, he got on one knee and asked for your hand. 

Then Janus died. Your world collapsed. Colors dimmed around you. Everything stopped making sense. Still…William did. Whenever you were around him, you could pretend away your grief, laugh away your pain. 

Your heart wasn’t so broken. 

And now…you don’t think it’ll ever be put back together. 

For days on end, you don’t leave your bed. The sun rises; it sets. Yet the same pains shackle you to your bedroom. Quicksands of guilt and sorrow suffocate you.

…Until you’re swept by a sickness one day. 

It happens a little under a week after your return. You rush to your bathroom and pitch forward, dry heaving the near vacant contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. You then huddle on the floor, hugging your stomach as pain pulses through your midriff. Your brows collide in confusion. Hardly a bite of anything has crossed past your lips these days, as you only chewed on a few glum bites of the meals Ma brought to your room. Yet you are nauseous, cramps twisting your insides.

You bolt upward, racing to the toilet bowl again as another surge of queasiness takes you. Following that, you crash into a heap on the floor. Shuddering, you wipe the back of your mouth.

You crawl onto the floor, all the way to your bed. 

Every day after this one, you awake sick and cranky, the same ache and nausea plaguing you. You also begin to experience faint headaches. It becomes dire enough for your parents to summon a doctor. However many times, he checks you out, he finds nothing amiss or wrong with you. Throughout the checkup, concern is etched on your parents’ faces. You’re forced to promise them that you’re alright and that, to prove it, you’ll show up for family dinner as you did before. Your father pats your cheek, visibly relieved, but the concern on your mother’s face doesn’t relent. She keeps scrutinizing you with a strange look on her face, one you’re not sure what to make of. 

Still, even as you hug Ma and Dad, dread creeps inside you. Something else could still be wrong with you. The kind of thing there isn’t a quick fix-it for. The kind of thing you’d have to deal with for the rest of your life. 

But you don’t let your mind wander there. Not yet. 

As you end the day with yet another bout of vomiting and stabbing cramps, your mother rushes upstairs. She sinks to her knees at your side and strokes your hair.

“Are you alright? I heard you.” She frowns as she takes in your shuddering frame. “Perhaps we should call the doctor again so he can do more tests…”

You bristle. More tests would mean exploring other possible causes for your affliction. You can’t risk that. Not with Ma and Dad involved.

“It’s nothing, Ma,” you dismiss with haste. You put a hand on her arm. “Could we go to the apothecary this evening?” Her puzzled look draws a nervous chuckle from you. Twisting your hands, you chime falsely, “I bet it’s just a nasty stomach bug.”

Her frown deepens. “A bug? But you haven’t eaten very much lately.”

You shrug.

“It can still happen.” You slip on a mask of cheerfulness. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain again with some ginger and camomile, Ma.”

“If you say so,” she says, returning your smile.

You’re a bit unsettled as you find yourself outside. The brightness of the sun sears your eyelids. You squint at the blue sky. You wobble down the stairs as your mother holds your arm. You’ve grown so accustomed to keeping yourself cloistered inside, either by your own will or the will of…others. Strolling along the cobblestoned path while the winter breeze caresses your face has a strange tickle running through you. 

An awkward silence hangs between you and your mother once you’re in the back of a taxi.

Your fingers twiddle in your lap as you keep your eyes low. Who knows what Ma could discern in your gaze. You never managed to conceal much from her ever since you were a little girl. She was always freakishly aware of every blunder, bad grade and secret.

Her motherly instinct is infallible.

“Dad and I haven’t seen much of you these days,” she suddenly notes, causing your head to whip up. “I know you’re sad about William but…” She hesitates, gauging you before stating, “I think it’s a good thing.”

“Ma…”

“He was never right for you,” she insists, her inflection stern. “You’re a Plinth. You should aim higher.”

“Mother!” you hiss.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but it needed to be said.” She reaches out to drape her hand over yours. “You’re hurting right now but it’ll all be for the best in the end. You have a bright future ahead of you. That young man, nice as he is, was just holding you back.”

Mouth agape, you stare at your mother. While you know that she and Dad have never cradled William near their heart and weren’t too  thrilled with your decision to marry him, you never expected her to be so callous about your engagement ending. In her mouth, it nearly sounds like a business deal gone wrong. But she knew William, talked to him many times, saw you with him. She has to understand how much losing him means to you. How can she be so cold and dismissive about it? You quell the budding sobs in your throat. 

The quickness of the drive to the shop is a small mercy you bask in. After your mother spoke, the air in the car grew heavier, every lungful becoming torturous. 

You hastily climb outside the car once it comes to a stop in front of the apothecary. 

Windchimes sing above the door as you enter, your mother at your heel. 

You linger by every shelf, pretending to be lost between all the labels. 

“We could call the clerk to help…”

“No, it’s okay,” you cut her off. You giggle and shrug. “I like taking my time. Actually, you know what?” You grab a vial and shake it, pretending to study the label. You wave your hand at your mother. “I’m gonna stay behind and gather some more herbs. You should go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Befuddlement knits her brow. “I could stay…”

“I won’t be long,” you snap, your lips curving in a wide, painful grin. You squeeze her arm, your tone softening.  “I promise. Just wait for me in the car, Ma. Then we could stop by a café and have a bite. How does that sound?”

She yields with a nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Relief fills you when she walks away. 

The second she’s out the door, you’re racing to the front desk.

“I need a pregnancy test, please,” you blurt out, your voice barely above a breath as you keep stealing wary glances behind you.

The mere utterance of the request has your insides coiling in horror. For a while, you were in staunch denial of that being a possibility. But you mulled it over, long and hard. It made you realize that, besides the sickness you’ve experienced lately, you also can’t remember the last time you had your monthly bleeding. You’ve never been late before. Not even once. And while things are a little fuzzy in your head…you’re pretty sure over two months isn’t a good sign.

The clerk blinks at you, seemingly taken aback. Still, she silently moves her head in agreement and dives through a door leading to what you assume to be the back of the shop.

The wait is agony. You count every second, praying your mother won’t show up out of the blue and start questioning what you’re up to.

When the clerk returns, you free a deep breath. 

She places a small, clear vial inside your palm. You give her an inquiring look.

“You must…relieve yourself and transfer it in this vial,” she explains. “If it turns blue, well congratulations are in order.” Her smile dies as she notices your tight expression. “Or perhaps…not?”

“Thank you very much,” you say, carefully squeezing the vial and shoving it at the very bottom of your bag. 

For good form, you ask for some medicinal herbs, some for stomach pains and others for sleeplessness. Just in case your mother inquires about your purchases. One can never be too careful.

When you’re back inside the car, your mother beams at you. 

“Did you find what you were looking for, sweetie?”

“Y-Yes, I did, mother,” you stammer, clearing your throat and letting your gaze roam outside the window. 

You’re thankful she cannot hear the cacophony of your pounding heart. 

You spend the rest of the evening with your mother, drinking tea and eating cake while she babbles about trivial topics. You try your best to listen, giving vague, half-hearted replies.

But your mind is already far away, a million thoughts bumping inside your head.

The entire evening, you’re restless, eager to go home and get answers to your questions. 

It requires every morsel of self-control within you not to make a beeline upstairs once the two of you are back home. You give a swift apology and tell your mother the day’s exhausted you and you need a quick nap. She reminds you that dinner is in less than two hours and you need to dress up. You don’t argue, all too happy to finally be on your own.

Once the door to your bedroom is closed, you slump against it, all the tension in your body draining all at once. You take a minute to breathe, leaning your head against the wood.

You retrieve the vial inside your bag. Your hands quake. Your heart drums.

Hesitation slithers through you. What if you just tossed it out the window, forgot about all this?

No. This isn’t something you can cower or hide from. You have to face this.

Your entire life could change in an instant. And it might be about more than just your life.

Shaking from head to toe, you proceed inside the bathroom. You pee in a glass and pour a small amount in the vial.

Insides painfully tight, you chew on your lip as you wait.

Stay clear, stay clear, you pray in silence, as if the water could hear your plea and change the course of your fate by some fantastical twist.

After a few minutes, blue starts bleeding inside the water. It doesn’t stop until all of it has morphed into the horrifying color, bubbles rising to the surface.

The air in your lungs falters. The vial crashes to the floor, scattering into tiny shards as you collapse on the floor of your bathroom.

You gape at the blue puddle on the floor. Maybe it’s a mistake. Tests aren’t always foolproof. They’re wrong sometimes. Perhaps yours was defective.

For a while, you loiter in your denial, conjuring a plethora of reasons why this isn’t happening.

Then you slowly blink. You realize the puddle hasn’t moved. The shards are still on the floor. The blue isn’t gone.

An audible exhale bursts from your chest.

Despite your desire to pretend otherwise, you can’t escape the truth. The ghastly, awful truth. There are no more ifs and buts, no ‘perhaps’, no ‘maybe’…Just the reality that will make itself known to all much sooner than you’d like.

You’re going to be a mother. You’re carrying Coriolanus Snow’s child. The urge to puke, cry and scream all at once surges through you.

“Sweetie, dinner’s ready.”

Your mother’s abrupt call from downstairs has your heart miss a beat.

“I’m not hungry, mom,” you reply automatically, tamping down the quiver in your voice.

“You promised,” she yells.

Right. You did. Perhaps it was foolish of you. How can you carry on with dinner and smile at your parents as if everything’s normal? As if your whole life didn’t take a gigantic turn…the biggest one there could ever be.

You collect yourself. You rub your sweaty palms on your skirt and pick a random dress from your wardrobe. You’re a little shocked to find the closet half-empty, gut wrenching as you remember a good chunk of your clothes are still at the Snows’ apartment.

Emptying your thoughts, you get dressed, your fingers slipping as you fumble with the buttons of your dress.

Get it together.

You slap your cheeks and will yourself to act normal. You’ll figure out the next steps later. Right now, you need to make it through dinner.

The facsimile of a smile nudges your lips upward as you drag your feet downstairs.

However all shallow semblance of happiness evaporates from your face when you take in who’s standing at the bottom of the stairs by your parents.

His smooth lilt ripples through the room.

“Hey, princess.”

Your stomach drops to your feet. Victory sways in his cobalt orbs as he savors your reaction.

He looks the exact same as the last time you saw him, simply more put together in his crisp red suit and white shirt, his blonde locks slicked back from his face.

Every cell in your body is screeching at you to run from him. As far as you can. For as long as you can. And never look back. 

Your fingers clutch the stairs’ handrail.

Your appalled gaze turns to your parents. They are entirely too calm for your liking. In fact, they appear more wary of you than him.

“What’s going on? W-Why is he here?”

Your father takes careful steps towards you.

“Sweetheart, maybe we should sit, have a discussion as a family…”

You scoff, shying away from his outstretched hand.

“But he’s not…He’s not part of our family. Or did you forget, Dad?”

Your father’s shoulders fall, a great weariness settling upon his features. In that moment, he looks every bit of his years, all the built-up grief and exhaustion displayed on his face.

“Yes, but, in the current circumstances-”

“What circumstances?” you interrupt.

“Stop it,” Ma snaps. She sighs, approaching you. You stiffen. “We’re not stupid.” She lifts her hand to cup your cheek, her voice mellowing. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Your eyes bulge, shock striking you mute.

Coriolanus uses that moment to join your mother’s side. He places a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Your heart threatens to leap outside your chest when his eyes lock with yours.

“Your father’s right, princess. How about you come down so we can talk about this…” He flashes you a wicked smile. “As a family.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

[aehtery]

Portgas D. Ace kink headcanons!!

[Authors note: I'm sick 2day so I might write another one.. anyway breeding included for mootie >_<]

dom!character & f!reader. (not proofread)

cw: NSFW, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, temperature play & degradation.

18+ mdni, i will block you if your age isn't on your profile.

BREEDING

For Ace it unleashes something primal, something hidden deep within that he finally managed to let go of whenever you're around.

Something about seeing his cum dripping out of his pretty girls sore cunt is just so appealing to him, gazing at it as if it was the most prestigious artwork he had ever laid eyes upon.

He is not careful when it comes to his little kink though, if you're fucking he's filling you up to the brim, no discussion.

Often times his dirty talk will also include phrases such as; 'Mhm, wanna become a mama f'me?' and 'You'd look so pretty preggo with our kids..', this man is NOT shy about what he wants.

TEMPERATURE PLAY

Duh, what else would Fire Fist Ace do with his powers in the bedroom? Can't let 'em go to waste!

Being able to control fire came with a completely new kink, teasing his pretty girl using his flames.

He will do this in a more casual way though, heating up his flames just enough to make you shudder as they run over your back, tracing your curves and leaving lingering warmth on your skin.

He likes doing this to your chest too, heating up just the tips of his fingers while he toys with your sensitive nipples.

DEGRADATION & PRAISE (2 in 1, got lazy.)

Combining the two of them was something he did basically every time you two had sex, starting off by showering you with praise and giving you encouraging words but slowly trailing off into demeaning ones.

'So pretty f'me, taking me so good.' then suddenly a switch flips within him ending up in 'Aw, does my cock feel good? Does my little whore like me that much?'

He'll also include this physically, starting off gently tracing your skin as he plunges into you, slowly his nails start digging into your skin though, ending up in one of his hands entangled with your hair while the other grips onto your hip with such force that his nails will leave small imprints after.

#one piece smut #one piece x female reader #op headcanons #one piece headcanons #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace smut #op smut #AnsOPArchive #one piece #op x reader

[wholoveseggs]

Could you do blood sharing smut with one of the Mikaelsons? or even a headcanons or one shots on how they would each react to you asking them about it?

~✦~ Biting the Mikaelsons ~✦~

Klaus, Kol, Marcel and Elijah ♡♡♡ and hating on finn at the end

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Just some headcanons on what I think bloodsharing would be like with the Mikaelson men.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon, love doing headcanons like this ♡♡

1.8k words - Warnings: descriptions of sex, bloodsharing & dirty phrases.

Klaus

~Hybrids first!~

❥ Blood sharing is an incredibly intimate act so if you asked Klaus it would feel like a declaration of love to him.

❥ He's overjoyed that you trust him that much to take care of you and give you pleasure in your vulnerable state and will give you anything you need. He always bites you first so that when he pulls away you're already squirming and all worked up for him.

❥ A bit sadistic by nature, but with you he's as slow and deliberate as possible to savor the act and every moment of you in his arms, tasting your blood and giving you yours in return is just pure euphoria.

❥ He would bite you on your neck or maybe your shoulders just to make you shudder, hold you so close to his body that there wasn't a space in between you and while you drink he'll have you close your eyes so the sensations feel heightened.

❥ He likes you pressed tightly against him, close enough for him to taste and feel everything he's feeling through your bond, running his fangs slowly so that your bite lasts for a long time and when you drink his blood he's watching your face, savoring the feeling.

❥ He would have you sitting in his lap with no clothes, all pretty and flushed, he would get you all worked up before letting you have a taste. He wants you to associate the taste of his blood with sex and pleasure so that you'll crave it whenever you're together.

❥ But naturally, it's Klaus, he will get a little rough with you after, the passion and intensity increased because of the blood. He bites your neck hard while thrusting, making sure that you're connected in everyway possible. He still takes care of you but he also wants to savor this more than he already has.

❥ Definitely bites more than once. He will find excuses to do it, all over your body until you're an exhausted and droopy mess, letting out sweet little moans of satisfaction.

~He will say things like~

--- 'Oh darling,' pulling your hair away so he can see the bites on your skin, 'you were hungry for it weren't you?'

--- 'Even better than I thought, did I not have a claim on you enough?'

❥ He's not going to apologize for drawing out the fact that he's now basically making you drunk on pleasure. If anything, he'll tease you for getting so riled up from a simple bite.

--- 'Tsk tsk, and you wanted my blood? Beg for it now.'

--- 'Naughty girl, a little taste of me and you let me taste the parts of you only I get to see.'

--- 'My name tastes so good coming from those lips, doesn't it dear? Say it again.'

--- 'Better?' Nuzzling his face into your shoulder, 'Is that what you needed? Don't ever be afraid to ask me.'

❥ When you are both satisfied he will carry you to the shower, anywhere where you two can clean up, undisturbed. He's a complete softy when it comes to you in these moments, it's such a rare opportunity to see his vulnerable side.

❥ But, once you share this intimate act with him, he will consider you his. Marking you not just with the bite on your skin, but in his mind and in yours. 

Kol

~High risk of death with this one!~

❥ Drunk. This man. Is. DRUNK on pleasure. Sex and blood sharing? Such a godlike combo, you've created a monster (but really Kol's a monster already. You've just unleashed the beast.)

❥ Wants it often, though doesn't pressure you at all about it. The thirst for it is always there, in the back of his mind and during your more intense sex it's all he can think of.

❥ When you asked him about it he rushed you to his bed without a second thought. Kisses and bites at all points, not even sure where he wanted to bite you the most and didn't care at the moment.

❥ He thinks this is the perfect way for you to realize how sexy you are, if the way he stares at you is anything to go by he already knows it. Wants to savor your taste, how beautiful you look, everything.

❥ He likes giving the first bite right at your thighs so it sends sparks everywhere, he goes absolutely feral between your legs. Easily makes you into a trembling mess underneath him while licking you clean and then biting you again at your thigh.

❥ It's very intimate for him, but in a wilder, more passionate way. He's slow in his movements, likes to have both hands on your thighs while tasting your blood, his mouth sucking at the skin, giving you the utmost pleasure as your life essence pours over his tongue.

❥ When you drink his blood he comes fast. You can do whatever you want with him in that moment and he won't complain. But, he always wants the last bite.

~He will say things like~

--- 'Have I made you a bloodthirsty little minx? As much as I encourage your requests, darling, it's a bit of a torture to have those lips on my neck and not on my cock,'

--- 'Fucking delicious, you are,' as he gently nibbles, 'taste even better than I thought...'

--- 'Well, if I get to see this side of you, I'll offer you my blood anytime, love.'

--- Laughing, nuzzling his face into you he'll smile, 'better than I imagined, sweetheart, and all because of my pretty little pet.'

❥ Afterwards, he likes to play with you, knowing you're vulnerable as he laps at your thighs, or even fingering you. He'll let you mark him up in return if he's in the mood for it (which he often is) and enjoys snuggling into you and kissing you, tasting you on his tongue for a while.

❥ When you're both calmed down he will want to hold you close. Run his fingers through your hair and watch you with an awed expression for a bit. He can't believe how lucky he is to have you, on top of being his girlfriend, willing to share such a personal part of you with him, he's not going to take it for granted, swearing to prove to you how much it means to him to have your trust.

Marcel ~Don't let Rebekah catch you!~

~Couldn't find any gifs of him drinking blood :( ~

❥ When you tell him he's eyes widened and you heard his breath hitch before he takes you into his arms and smothers your face with kisses while lifting you up, just excited to be able to be as close to you as possible.

❥ He's playful with you, laughs and bites down gently all over your skin, little pecks before another nip of his teeth, never sinking in to deeply or in the wrong way, he's experienced, so he never has to worry about how deep he's going. His favorite bite spot is your breasts but he will tease and place playful bites over the rest of your body as well.

❥ After a few bites he'll end it by making your orgasm together and he'll moan your name. He's not much for talk but he's super sweet to you after. Let's you do the biting or the drinking as much as you like before cuddling into him and when you finish, he smiles, running his hand through your hair.

~He will say things like~

--- 'You know, you'll never get rid of me now right?'

--- 'Relax baby, I got you'

--- 'Love that sweetness in your voice,' tugging you down, "You want more?'

--- 'That's right sweet girl, don't you know what you've gotten yourself into?'

❥ When he's done, he will lick your body and wounds, healing them with his blood if necessary and lay you down while covering your face and lips in kisses, letting your suck the remaining blood from his lips while slowly fucking you.

Elijah

~Saving the best for last~

❥ When you tell him that you want him to drink your blood during sex it shocks him but before you can even open your mouth and explain he just picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, kissing you gently and asking where you want him to bite you.

❥ Very delicate, pristine, he will have you under him, safe in his bed with him holding you against his chest, biting his own wrist first and then yours. For him, drinking is different, the intimacy increases as he stares into your eyes as he takes your blood for the first time. It's deeply romantic for him, he'll keep you close to his heart while doing so, telling you how good you are and how much he loves you.

❥ He's hesitant, he doesn't want to hurt you in any way so he asks a dozen times to make sure it's okay. He's so gentle when he drinks, he strokes your hair and then your face, watching to see what you're feeling and reacting to it, but then he starts to drink more and when he is tasting the very essence of you he groans against your neck, overwhelmed by the sight of you underneath him and by the taste of your blood on his tongue. He is sure you're too beautiful to actually be his.

❥ His favorite thing is to have you climax the same time he drinks, so he can taste your lust and your blood on his tongue and it has the added effect of you clinging on to him, shaking and squeezing around him, while feeding him, opening yourself up to him.

❥ When you bite him he has a little quirk. He will have a light chuckle that grows a bit as the pleasure courses through him, holding you tight against him as he feels your mouth on him. You're sweet, wonderful and a pleasurable little dove to him and the chuckle melts to a groan.

~He will say things like~

--- 'Are you sure, my love? This is a...intimate act, something I've craved from you, for us to feel connected as one,'

--- 'That's it,' pulling you closer to him, feeling your heartbeat, 'take what you need,'

--- 'I love you,' He takes your hand and kisses your palm tenderly, 'Are you sure this is what you want?'

--- 'Good girl, sweet girl, that's it, yes. Let me feel you give in to it.'

--- 'Can you feel my blood in your veins? How connected we are?'

❥ He will run his tongue all along your neck and the parts he's bitten making sure there's no mess and that you are okay. Has an affectionate way of sitting you up and stroking your back as he does so, kissing your shoulder in-between murmurs of praise, how good you were and how it's important for you to be comfortable during and after.

❥ He will clean you up and heal you afterwards and wrap his arms around your body while whispering adoring words into your ear, kisses trailing over your face and your neck. He will whisper 'Thank you' in the softest voice that causes you to wrap your arms around him, feeling safe and loved as you thank him back.

Finn

~Born a hater, die a hater~

When you ask him to bloodshare, he goes still. Blinking at you once then twice, but stays silent, denying your request.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe ♡ @witch-of-letters ♡ @elijahmikaelsonsboy

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikaelson smut #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson smut #kol mikaelson #marcel gerard #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson smut #kol mikaelson fanfiction #marcel gerard imagine #marcel gerard x reader #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson smut #elijah mikealson x reader #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikealson fanfiction #vampire diaries #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[shadamyheadcanons]

For me, Shadow and Amy's dynamic is basically two different types of touch starved in a person

((If any of the gifs on this post aren’t loading for you on mobile--like they aren’t for me--you can download them or check the sources listed. As for desktop, they play just fine, but they won’t line up next to each other like they do on mobile. Tumblr is a comedy of errors.))

Yes! Absolutely. I’ve seen tons of fans say Shadow is prickly and would respond badly to hugs, but canon says otherwise. This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic 06]

Whenever I feel like being sad, I wonder if Bad-Future-06 Silver has ever been hugged.

This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic Unleashed, gif source.]

And I shouldn’t have to say this, but...yeah. These are very bad reactions:

[Sonic X]

[Sonic Generations]

Yikes. I feel bad for both of them.

But this?

[Sonic Adventure 2, gif source.]

This is Shadow’s only canonical hug in the games, and aside from jumping slightly from being snuck up on, he seems to like it just fine.

Just look at that smile! He’s happy. He finds it endearing.

It was a hug from a complete stranger meant for someone else, but he still drank it in--and, given that he’d effectively just lost Maria, he really did need it. It’s the combination of Amy’s gentleness AND her speech that changed his mind. After all, if someone as sweet as her sees something in the humans, maybe they’re not so bad.

My buddy who runs @shadowxamyweek recently reblogged a post about this hug, and their tags sum it up perfectly:

[ID: A screenshot of tags on a post. The tags read:

#official art #4kids #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #YEAH 😭 #listen I read nothing that has happened with them in SA2 as shippy - and i ship them #THIS HUG? THR SPEECH ON THE ARK? #those are two lonely kids #those are two left behind kids #those are two kids so desperate for affection #for two vastly different reasons #Amy loves with her whole chest and will never stop doing so- no matter what happens #and Shadow does too- that is key to remember- Shadow loves... so fucking much... that it hurts #you are RIGHT op when you say this is probably the first time someone has been gentle with him in a long long time #he doesn't even run away #in the game- when Amy flees- he takes a step after her- a moment's hesitation- a 'wait' #this kid NEEDED a hug #and i firmly believe part of the reason Shadow listens to Amy in the end is BECAUSE she is the only person who showed him gentleness #softness and kindness and affection #if only for a moment #fjdodhdofjgor THIS is what i mean when i say 'be gentle- be kind' #it MATTERS #it FUCKING MATTERS

End ID]

Shadow doesn’t hate hugs inherently; it’s just that no one hugs him in the first place...

...aside from one person.

Amy’s easily the most affectionate character in the cast. It’s cute at first glance, but there’s a common thread to every instance that puts a damper on it.

She’s always, ALWAYS the initiator.

She puts more into each hug than anyone else does.

She’s always the last to pull away.

The most reciprocated Amy hug I know of in canon is this one:

[IDW Sonic issue #22]

Which is absolutely adorable...but Amy still initiated. Because it’s always her job. Even the characters who like affection don’t need it the way she does...with one exception.

And this tiny detail just killed me. The little, “wait, come back 😟”

It’s the only time I know of when someone has actually stepped after her like this. In a game where everyone left Amy behind, he wanted to follow her. Mister so-called-prickly didn’t want the hug to end.

Because he’s the only one who needs it as much as she does.

He wants to be held as much as she wants to hold someone else, and no one else is warm and sincere enough for it. Compare these instances:

[IDW issue #6]

Sonic thinks Shadow is wrong about something, so he grabs Shadow’s arm to stop him, and Shadow aggressively wrenches it away and leaves.

[Archie Sonic Universe #23]

But when Amy thinks Shadow is wrong about something and grabs his arm to stop him, he gently removes her hand and thinks about what she has to say.

Even when he doesn’t want to be touched, he makes the distinction between “don’t touch me” and “not right now, please.” These are from two different continuities, of course, but I think the point stands. Amy’s special. He’s gentler with her than he is with other people, and that’s consistent across all canons.

Side note: how often does Amy get to feel special like that? I actually really like that Sonic doesn’t place others in a hierarchy of importance, and I wouldn’t change that about him even if I could...

[IDW issue #2]

...but Amy does play favorites. I want her to feel like she’s someone else’s favorite, too. I want her to have someone who puts her first and likes her best. I think Shadow’s more than capable of that. I believe he craves clinginess like hers deep down, even if he hasn’t consciously figured that out yet.

I have an entire tag for these two being affectionate. My favorite is probably this one.

Of course, there may be those who say I’m reading too much into one (1) hug. And you know what? Maybe they’re right! We need a bigger sample size. Sega, make more characters hug Shadow, please. Let Rouge comfort him after he confides in her about something. Have Omega give him an awkward metal embrace because he read on the internet that organic beings like that kind of thing. Make Shadow himself pull Silver into a hug when he’s breaking down crying from the stress of always having to be a hero. Show Tails accidentally grab onto him out of fear when they’re trapped in a lightning storm, and when he gets embarrassed and pulls away, have Shadow hold him for the rest of the storm and admit he’s not fond of bright lights, either.

[Sonic Boom]

That scene where Shadow and Amy rescue Cream and Cheese from Cryptic Castle? That easily could’ve turned into a cute group hug.

[Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)]

And I have seen some absolutely adorable fanart where he holds Cream’s hand while he and Amy lead her through Cryptic Castle to make sure she doesn’t get lost 🥺

Have Knuckles give him an empathetic bro-pat on the shoulder when he finds out Shadow’s the last one of his race, too.

[Archie Sonic Universe #89]

Have Sonic try to hug him, and then when Shadow inevitably pushes him away and says he doesn’t do hugs, have Amy arrive and latch onto Shadow instead while he tries to stutter out an excuse as to why she’s allowed to and Sonic isn’t.

The most affection Shadow has in recent history is stuff like this...

[Sonic Prime season 2 episode 1]

...where Sonic tries to hug him and Shadow immediately pushes him away, knocks him over, and tries to punch him in the face. Kind of says it all. Amy stands out as the only one with a good track record here.

[IDW issue #36]

Especially when you have him look at her like this when someone else is on the receiving end of that affection.

So in the absence of further evidence, I have no choice but to interpret this in the most Shadamy way possible. Your move, Sega.

#shadamy #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #not a headcanon #ask #anonymous #what is it with touch starved hedgehogs? #not the first time i've used the previous tag. says a lot about these characters

[yuurei20]

Short translation from the second Twisted Wonderland novel: Yuuya and the rumors

“'What's the matter? You look a bit down,’ says the ghost.

‘No…mm. It's nothing, but...' Yuuya’s reluctant response trails off in a sigh. ‘I just remembered that tomorrow is the start of another week.’ 

‘Ah, I get it.’ Ace nods in understanding. ‘You're all gloomy cause you don’t want to go to school.’

‘…yeah.’

‘I get that,’ Grim says with a knowing nod. ‘I hate all those boring classes.’

‘Nah, it’s cause he doesn’t want a bunch of guys he doesn’t even know giving him trouble again.’

Yuuya gives a weak nod.

Yuuya and Grim have been students at Night Raven College for a month. He’d assumed that everything would settle down in time, but after a certain incident things are more shaken up than ever.

It is as though there is no one at the school who has not heard the rumors surrounding Yuuya. Everyone is talking about the incident.

Riddle Rosehearts, the housewarden who reigned over Heartslabyul Dorm, and his excessively strict rules. His authoritarian regime may have continued until his graduation but then, disoriented, he had unleashed a torrent of magical power that resulted in his overblot. 

Blot is a byproduct of using magic. While a phenomenon that can pose a deadly threat to mages who allow it to accumulate, it is very rare for it to ever reach that point. For an overblot to occur within such a prestigious, traditional school for mages was unprecedented.

It was a major incident that involved both the students of Heartslabyul, and those of another dorm entirely.

A dorm that was most recently dubbed ‘Ramshackle.’ Its two members are Kuroki Yuuya, a human from another world incapable of using magic, and Grim, a magical beast.

They are special first-years, having received permission from the headmage to enroll due to unusual circumstances.

‘Well, it’s not like the rumors are wrong, but they leave out a lot of important parts.’

Listening to Ace explain, Yuuya starts to feel dizzy.

‘I wasn’t really that caught up in everything with Riddle-senpai, I just happened to be there with you two…I don’t really think ‘special first year’ is the right way to put it.’

‘I guess the main point is that they’re not just rumors.’ Deuce seems to be thinking hard, and Ace laughs aloud.

‘I get asked about you all the time, too, but it’s not like I can say they're wrong or refute them, right?’

‘It’s okay to refute them! People are even coming to our classroom, now, to look in. I thought I was just imagining it at first, but…it’s probably the rumors.’

‘Well, you hear something like that and of course you’re gonna think, ‘I wonder how amazing that first-year really is,’ right?’

‘Speaking of which, on Friday, when I saw you talking to someone from another class,’ Deuce blinks as if having just remembered something. ‘I thought it was someone you knew―they were just hassling you?’

‘Yeah...I might have fainted if you hadn't walked up.’

‘That's a bit dramatic...but then again, not for Yuu, I guess.’

While he is an ordinary human, there is one thing that sets Yuuya apart from others: he detests fighting. 

Even witnessing a conflict sets him on edge, and hearing the slightest argument makes him anxious. There is nothing that Yuuya would not do to avoid a fight.

And yet, it seems that a considerable number of students now view him as a rival. Night Raven College students have a lot of pride. Rumors about a special first-year student must have sparked their competitive spirit.

There is no end to the openly hostile students. Whenever he hears, ‘Hey, are you Yuu?,’ he gives an evasive answer and runs away.

‘What? Someone pickin’ a fight? We can’t just let ‘em mock Ramshackle Dorm.’ Grim growls, wrinkling his small, black nose. ‘Tell me who it is an’ where they are. I’ll knock ‘em right out!’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Well, don’t let it get to you.’ Ace pats Yuuya on the back. He hasn’t stopped chuckling. ‘People will forget about the rumors sooner or later. Hang in there!’

‘That’s easy for you to say…’

If any of them were significantly involved in the situation with Riddle, it was Ace. But with the gossip about Yuuya spreading like wildfire Ace has been able to avoid any negative attention, skillfully keeping himself out of the trouble.

Perhaps he feels guilty about it. ‘You actually seem to be fitting in with the class more,’ he offers in assurance.

‘You think so? Nothing feels different.’

‘Yeah, I think you’re starting to fit in, too.’ 

Yuuya remains glum, even despite Deuce's encouragement. Ace and Deuce exchange glances and shrug."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #twst translations

[tired-biscuit]

Ruin

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content [minors dni!!], established relationship. aged up, meanie!bakugou fucks you stupid on the kitchen counter after he's had a bad day at work.

Word count: 1.6k

---

YOUR entire body feels like it’s on fire.

Bakugou’s hands are still warm from the earlier usage of his quirk as they run along your sides hungrily; thick, calloused digits coated in smoke curling and tightening around the arch of your hips whenever he pushes his cock deeper between your soaked walls.

The November night on the other side of the kitchen window he’s just spent hours patrolling and suffering through is laced with bitter cold and ferocious curtains of potent, icy rain. The chill makes the glass rattle in its frame whenever it hits and provides a perfect contrast to the warmth of his palms that keep burning your skin, as well as the scorch of his tongue as it twists around your own. 

His heavy gauntlets and gloves lay on the spotless wooden flooring in the same forgotten manner your cutesy pyjama shorts and equally as adorable panties are clinging around your left ankle as he fucks you even harder into the marble counter. 

Your legs are spread wide open for him, even though your body insists that they close from the way the knot inside your lower belly tightens now. It feels like it’s pulling your very insides taut; right to the brink of snapping. You’re not entirely sure how much more of his bullying you’ll be able to endure, but Katsuki doesn't seem to be thinking about being nice any time soon.

Truthfully, the need of bursting into orgasm is turning you brain-dead. Every single time the squelching slap! sounds out from the way your pussy kisses his abdomen, a broken squeal of pleasure bubbles up your throat. You’re literally feeling your brain cells shutting down and vanishing into the fog of pure bliss that’s overtaking your numb mind as you keep producing sounds that only a stupid bimbo would make on her regular night out: which is getting her brains fucked out in the narrow bathroom of a packed club.

Your lacking morals and the way your sanity is crumbling down right before him only make Katsuki's dick harder. Make him shove it even deeper; until he's hitting right against your cervix and continuously abusing it with lewd kisses from the blunt cockhead.

Christ, he's tearing you right apart. It’s heaven and hell in one.

“Enough, enough! Fuuuck…!” You whine as tears well up in your eyes. The sting burns hot on your waterline as you suck in a quivering breath. “‘s too much, Kat! I can’t-... Can’t take it!”

“Don’t lie to me, baby. It ain’t nice, ya hear?” Katsuki grunts in reply, slamming himself into you until hot, gooey slick is spurting out of your tight hole and gushing all over his dick and the counter. “I’ve had a bad day at work, so don’t start shit with me... ‘m pissed off enough as it is already.”

You might be a bad girlfriend for it, but you’re simply too fucked out to ask him what’s wrong in that moment. He’s come home from his patrol twenty minutes ago and has spent the last fifteen drilling you absolutely dumb with zero explanation as to why there is literal fire burning inside those crimson irises of his. 

You feel like you’re becoming one with the cool marble that keeps sticking to your sweaty, trembling thighs as he keeps slamming into you so viciously raw and angry now; as he keeps unleashing his unexplained frustration in the form of some harsh pounding you didn’t even know you needed.

He’s making you cry - quite literally. Making you blabber incoherent sentences and pleas that neither of you know what they’re meant to be even pleading for.

About to retaliate, your argument is cut short from the way you gasp when he squeezes your ass and pushes you closer to the edge of the counter. You can feel the spark of his quirk dance on top of your skin as he fondles your curves; can feel him grin wickedly against your lips that have been stuck in the shape of a small ‘o’ ever since he’s shoved that monster of a cock inside your weeping cunt. You’re going to bruise both from the inside and out. He is such a brute, but you still love him, nevertheless.

After all, what else can you do - stuck in this stupidly submissive position like a hot and bothered prisoner underneath the tenacious grip and his firm hand that holds it?

Your toes curl to the point of cramping as they tangle into the adorable lace that’s still hanging from your ankle as Bakugou licks your front teeth and scrapes the roof of your mouth with his drool-coated tongue. He sucks on your bottom lip and bites into it when you try to pull back to beg him to stop. If you didn't know him any better, you'd say that he's trying to make you shut up before you’re even given the chance to speak.

He’s panting and sweating like a roused beast above you. The sweet scent of caramel is potent to waft through the narrow space between you from his hero gear as the salt keeps clinging to his chest in the same way the spandex does. It overtakes the smell of dinner that’s still cooking in the oven, and that you were so eagerly preparing for him before he forced himself upon you like some enraged animal in heat. 

God damn it, even his scent dominates the room.

Fine sugar seeps down your throat now and fills your lungs with liquid honey as you keep kissing him and inhaling his intoxicating scent. It fogs your senses instead of heightening them, even though you swear that you can feel yourself getting high from it. He’s worse than the filthiest party drug.

"Look at the mess you're makin', pretty," he whispers before a huffed, mocking sort of laugh begins to rumble inside the depths of his chest like the same profound thunder that’s currently raging just on the other side of the window. "Drippin' and gushin' all over my cock and the fuckin’ counter, hah! Might have to make you lick both clean later, mm?"

"Kat-su…!" It's the only thing you can give him as an answer and it is outright pathetic. Your saliva has turned runny from how demanding your body has turned to finally become undone. Especially when he forces your legs to bend even more and digs his palms into the back of your thighs until you're splayed wide apart for him like some dirty slut.

Or a meal, since you're, well… In the kitchen.

And truth be told: you really do look absolutely delicious this way. He can see the thick strings and ropes of arousal that glimmer in the dim glow of the small light just above the stove; can see how your sweet pussy is eating him right up as it sucks him in, in, in. 

The lips have gotten puffy and tender from all the overstimulation he's making you grit your teeth through like a champ. You're sensitive as hell and it causes your hips to jerk upwards when he spreads your pussy wider apart with the help of two of his fingers.

You're spluttering as soon as the touch strikes home; chest heaving from the lack of oxygen and the subtle brush to your swollen clit. “More baby, I-I need it…! Fuck, holy fuck… Shit, oh my god!”

He groans - a guttural curse leaving his plush mouth as his carmine eyes fixate on the spot where you connect the moment your walls begin to clench in response to his pleasuring. Shadows twist inside the clever irises from the sight. It’s so hot that it brings his blood to a simmer; especially when you wiggle your hips to feel him better. 

His voice sounds strained and coarse as he says, “You wanna cum, babe?”

“Yes!” Your eyes shoot wide open as you stare at him with such a dazed look that it makes him wonder if there's anything even happening behind the dilating pupils. They're so huge that he can nearly see himself in them. “Please, I-I… Please, please, please!”

“Yeah?” He tilts his head to the side lightly - the movement more animal than human, “You wanna cum real bad?”

Tears run down your heated cheeks as you nod eagerly. You remind him of a puppet with the action. Like he's tugging at the strings that make you approve of anything he wants from you.

“Beg me all you want, baby.” Katsuki smiles now as he says the taunting words and pushes deeper. The flash of his perfect teeth grows bigger; wider and more wolfish when he hears you cry out again the moment he burrows himself so deep that it makes your eyes cross. 

His grin is outright tantalizing and it is wonderful. So fucking wonderful, despite your blurry vision. Better yet, he's wonderful. Handsome. Yours. 

All yours, whilst seeking and demanding comfort from you in the most twisted of ways.

Staring down at you, all rough and tough and mean, despite the pretty, tousled spikes of ash blonde and the pink, sweat-coated cheeks: a chill rushes down your spine as he slams his broad palm flat against the counter, leans into your ear and murmurs, “I'll ruin you either way. Just like I ruined dinner, and just like that stupid motherfucker of a perp ruined my goddamn patrol.”

He jerks his chin towards the oven, and you have no doubt that he will, in fact, ruin you. That he'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to stand; much less sit down for a day or two. That he'll keep pounding into you until you're sobbing into his shoulder and clawing at his hero suit so harshly, that perhaps you'll even be able to shred the fabric right apart, just like a kitty-cat does when it drags its sharp claws down the expensive living room curtains you've just bought.

But hey… At least it'll make him feel better, right?

Masterlist

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #mha smut #bnha smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo

[floralcyanidee]

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ - ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

Young!Cillian Murphy x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

A night over at your best friend, Cillian's, leads to something more than friendship but something less than romance. Will you ever tell him how you feel, or will you always just be friends with benefits?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, cock warming, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of choking, love confessions

word count: 4409

author’s note: I'm shadowbanned on my main account everyone please clap (not for nsfw, I was flagged for spam yay) so I'll be posting on this shiny new blog, ao3, and wattpad for the time being. (those are both linked on my masterpost) hopefully I'll be unbanned soon because I've had my main tumblr for a decade and it has 2.5k followers on it and I'll fr cry my eyes out if I can't get unbanned!!! anyway please enjoy this!! I wrote a good chunk of this while at work this week. the horny really unleashes in the second part haha. please leave feedback if you enjoy! <3

PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG. BUT ALSO, DO NOT UNFOLLOW MY MAIN BLOG!

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

Cillian’s lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath hitting your face. His eyelashes almost touch your cheeks, and his nose is beside yours, barely brushing against it. 

“I want you so bad,” Cillian whispers, his hands finding your hips.

You have been friends since the 90s when Cillian first arrived in Hollywood, stumbling upon you at a local bar where you worked. Ever since, you’ve both been the best of friends. But tonight, that’s being challenged. The lights in Cillian’s place are dimmed, candles are lit, and wine is flowing through the two of you. Having a bit to drink in a comfortable setting isn’t out of the norm, but for some reason, tensions were high tonight. You could almost cut it with a knife. Everything about him is more mesmerizing tonight- his eyes, his freckles, the way he smiles. You needed him, and apparently, he needed you too. 

“Then have me,” you mutter against Cillian’s lips.

He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t want to ruin us.”

“You won’t,” you look down at his lips- they’re so close to yours that you can feel them move whenever he speaks.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you breathe, grabbing hold of Cillian’s face as he finally puts his mouth on yours.

The kiss immediately becomes hungry, your teeth nearly clashing together as Cillian slips his tongue around yours. He’s gripping your hips fiercely, and his sideburns press pleasantly into your palms as you hold his head steady. Cillian pulls you onto his lap from your sitting position on the couch next to him, seating you firmly on his thighs. Your fingers find his hair, tugging it slightly as a small whimper vibrates in Cillian’s throat. The sound spurs you on, and you take over the kiss, dominating his tongue with yours. You explore his mouth and suck on his tongue harshly, pulling away from the embrace to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re good at this.”

You scoff, putting both your hands on his cheeks as you trace your thumb along his sharp cheekbones, “And to think you would’ve never known.”

“Not necessarily,” Cillian looks you in the eyes, “I would’ve gotten you one way or another.”

“Then why have you waited so long, then? Hmm?” you ask.

“I value our friendship,” Cillian admits.

“I do, too, Cill. But god, if I had known you were so good at kissing, I would’ve done it ages ago,” you smirk, running your finger across his bottom lip.

His eyes follow your movements before they flick up to yours, darkening, “I’m not just good at that.”

His words shoot straight to your lower belly, warmth spreading through you, “Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” Cillian pulls you closer to his chest, your core settling right on his.

“Show me.”

Cillian attacks your lips again, this time biting down on your lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. You watch his face as he does it, his icy eyes becoming a darker shade of blue. His hand moves from your hip to your hair, his fingers sliding through your locks before they tighten, pulling your head backward to expose your neck. Cillian leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he bites at the skin, leaving a small bruise to form below your jaw. You squirm slightly at the feeling of his teeth pressing into your skin, dangerously close to breaking its surface. Cillian then kisses your collarbones, stopping when he reaches the neck of your shirt, well, his shirt. You always took from his wardrobe, whether it was a beanie, t-shirt, or hoodie that he forgot he had. He slides his hand from your hip to underneath the shirt, pressing his palm to your feverish skin and pushing it up slowly until he reaches your breast. 

“No bra?” Cillian asks, surprised.

“I never wear a bra when I’m over here,” you admit, “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”

“I’m glad I never noticed, or else I’d be underneath your shirt constantly,” Cillian pulls his hand from your hair to move it under the shirt along with the other.

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” you giggle, but it’s cut off by a quiet moan when Cillian grasps your breasts.

Cillian brushes his thumbs over your nipples, circling the buds as they harden under his touch. You hum, letting your head fall back at the sensation. Cillian pushes the shirt up and over your chest, and you help him pull it all the way off, tossing it somewhere in the living room. Immediately, Cillian latches onto one of your nipples, toying with the other one with his fingers. Electricity shoots to your still-clothed core, and you know that Cillian can feel you beginning to throb through your thin shorts. His playing with your breasts could get you off alone; his touch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s sometimes sensual and soft and rough and firm when needed. Cillian grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, pulling it toward him as you let out a yelp. You involuntarily bare down on his lap and feel him growing harder underneath you. He lands a slap to your breast, and you gasp, hands going to grip his biceps to ground yourself. 

“I can feel you getting excited,” Cillian teases, raising his hips a little to let all your weight sit on him momentarily.

“What are you gonna do about it, then?” you stifle a moan at his bulge pressing into your clit harshly.

Cillian pushes you off his lap and onto the couch, where he spreads your legs and yanks your shorts down your thighs, discarding them wherever the shirt also previously went. He pulls your calves onto his shoulders, laying on his chest between your thighs. His breath hits your dampened underwear, sending goosebumps across your skin. You bite your lip as Cillian plays with the edges of your underwear right against where you need him most. He toys with the fabric, letting his fingers barely touch you underneath. 

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Cillian confesses, his intense eyes flickering up to your face.

You feel your cheeks burn, “Me too.”

Cillian smiles his typical beautiful smile, teeth and all, as he pulls your underwear down your legs painfully slow, “I’ve always imagined how wet you’d get just from me teasing you.”

You bite back a whimper as he removes your underwear from your legs, letting them fall to the floor. 

“You’d get soaked from me playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit slowly, and eating you out until you cry,” Cillian lets his filthy words fall from his lips as you shiver from them, wanting to close your legs subconsciously.

But they were perched on Cillian’s shoulders, and he was about to go in for the kill. He kneads your thigh before pushing it to the side, letting it drape off the edge of the couch and opening you up further to him. Cillian’s fingers brush against your hardening clit like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, making you tremble as you grunt from the sensual feeling.

“Please,” you sigh, your hips jerking up when Cillian pulls his hand away.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me, Cill. God, I need you to touch me.”

Cillian strokes your entrance with his index finger, gathering your wetness before dragging it up to your clit. He circles the bundle of nerves slowly, making you whine above him. 

“So wet already,” Cillian moans, “You’re so beautiful.”

You throw your head back against the arm of the couch when Cillian finally replaces his finger with the tip of his tongue, going around and around the sensitive bud, never coming directly in contact with it. He changes his mind about that and starts to lap at your clit, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers travel back to your now-dripping entrance. Cillian hums in satisfaction at the feeling of your arousal seeping out of you at his expense. He flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit before swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue still flat and giving your entire bundle of nerves attention. Cillian probes you with a single finger, pushing it in as you moan his name. He pumps it in and out of you, curling it against your g spot with every thrust. He adds a second finger, and the sound of your wetness grows louder, mixing with your breathy moans and Cillian’s pants. 

“Say my name again,” Cillian bites his lip, watching as his soaked fingers move in and out of you.

“Cillian,” you whine, moving your hips along with his fingers.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers, darling,” he says, adding a third finger in you.

To say you‘re a mess is an understatement. You need Cillian inside you, as your walls are clenching around his fingers with desperation. You grab his shirt, “Fuck me, please.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Cillian smirks, lifting his shirt off his lean body before standing up to tug his pants and underwear down and off his legs. 

Cillian teases your clit with his leaking head before lining himself up with you. He looks at you with an unsure expression, and you nod in response to the unspoken question. He slowly pushes himself into you, your warmth already fluttering around him. Cillian guides himself all the way to his hilt, letting out a throaty groan when he feels his entire length surrounded by your velvety walls. His hands run up and down your abdomen, stopping when he palms over your breasts. They’re still sensitive from the previous activity and your growing arousal, causing you to wriggle when Cillian’s fingers deftly pinch at both your nipples as he slowly pulls himself almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you. You cry out, your hands flying to where his back meets his shoulders, nails digging softly into his flesh. Cillian moans when you clench harshly around him when he tugs at your nipple particularly hard. 

“You like these pretty titties to be played with, huh?” Cillian runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure when he pulls at the sensitive skin.

You nod, but he lets go of your breasts, running his hands over your body before his hand snakes between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. You let out a throaty moan, and Cillian curses under his breath as his hips snap against yours at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuuuuck,” you drawl, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your body heaves into the couch from the velocity of Cillian’s perfect cock slamming into you without mercy, “You feel so good inside of me.”

You push Cillian up and off you, shoving him onto the couch behind him. You climb on his lap, throwing your legs over his thighs as you line him back up with your aching cunt. Feeling him stretch you out completely while at a different angle makes you moan uncontrollably as you set a pace, riding Cillian as if your life depended on it. Your ass slaps his hips as he guides them up and down, thrusting into you dead-on. Cillian’s tip hits your cervix flawlessly, and you feel that tightness in your belly. 

“Cum inside me, Cillian,” you swivel your hips, “Fill me up and make me yours.”

“Gonna cum around my cock first?” Cillian’s lips are swollen from incessantly biting as he watches you fuck yourself on him.

You decide you’ll milk him for all he’s got and lean down to land a bruising kiss on his lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths as you near your peak, reaching underneath you to flick your clit. Cillian grips your ass as you feel yourself unravel, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls cave in on CIllian’s length, causing him to reach his own orgasm before he’s ready. He squirms underneath you as you continue to bounce on his cock, coaxing every drop of cum out of him. 

“Fuck,” Cillian exhales as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking just as fucked out as you.

You lay down on his chest, him still inside you. He doesn’t bother moving either; the feeling of you still cloaked around him made him dizzy. Cillian is still trying to wrap his head around how this is real. He also is trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s terrified of telling you his true feelings for you, fearing you won’t want to be friends anymore. Obviously, tonight the dynamic has changed from just friendship between the two of you. 

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you trace shapes into Cillian’s bare chest, peering up at him when he doesn’t answer. 

He appears deep in thought.

“Everything okay?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man underneath you.

Cillian nods, his hand finding your hair before stroking it softly, “Just thinking.”

“About?” you rest your chest on his collarbone.

“How much I’d like to do this again,” Cillian says, and you chuckle.

“That can be arranged,” you leave a kiss on his neck, his eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, though,” Cillian says worriedly.

“You haven’t ruined anything. And I’ve had just as much to do with this as you,” you say, putting your finger under Cillian’s chin to look at him directly, “You’re still my best friend.”

“And you’re fine with whatever this is?”

“It’s the best of both worlds,” you shrug with a smile. 

Cillian moves to sit up against the couch's armrest still sheathed inside you. And as you start yet another make out session and begin to rock your hips with your walls still hugging his cock, you try not to think. The idea that you must hide your feelings for Cillian even more is hard to wrap your mind around.

But little did you know, he was having the same problem. He tries not to think about it as he thrusts into you sloppily, letting you ride him as you please. 

—

“Jesus, shit!”

“God, you’re so fucking drenched. All of this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, letting out a pornographic moan as one of Cillian’s hands holds your swollen cunt open while the other rubs at it vigorously.

“Just like that-” Cillian moans at the sounds you’re letting out, “Need you to cum on my face, pretty thing.”

You cry out, rocking your hips against Cillian’s merciless hand as it flies across your pussy with no sign of stopping. He pokes out his middle finger to catch your clit with every swipe of his hand. Your orgasm explodes in your stomach, your core gushing cum as Cillian hurries to dip his face down. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, flicking his tongue over your bundle of nerves, causing you to squirt again. 

“Fuuuck,” you squeal, your hands gripping Cillian’s hair like a vice.

Cillian can’t get enough. He’s not gonna lie, he thinks he’s absolutely obsessed with making you squirt. He could do it all night and still get off at the sight. Cillian laps at your pussy, spreading his tongue around your folds, stimulating the sensitive area further.

“Cill, I’m gonna cum again,” you warn, but Cillian just keeps his eyes closed as he sneaks two fingers inside you.

His fingertips brush against your g spot and send you over the edge a third time, and Cillian’s nipping at your clit causes you to gush again. You were slightly embarrassed but incredibly turned on by it. And you know Cillian is relishing in it, literally and figuratively. He pulls away from you, a little reluctantly, and wipes his mouth and face with the back of his arm. You grab his face and pull him into you as he collapses on your naked, heaving chest. You stare at Cillian, the light from the side table’s lamp shining into his eyes just right. They’re returning to an arctic blue as his heart rate calms, his pupils going back to normal size. Cillian stares back at you, studying your features just as you are his. Freckles sprinkle Cillian’s cheeks and nose, dotting along his forehead and chin as well. His lips are red and swollen, and he’s sporting a lopsided smile as he looks at you. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, “Literally everything you do, say, and how you look is just flawless. Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” you joke.

A smile spreads upon Cillian’s face as his cheeks tinge pink, the warmth traveling to his ears, “I’m not perfect by any means, and no, I’m not an angel,” he says, his accent thick and raspy from the previous exertion. 

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that,” you say as CIllian softly kisses your neck.

God, I love you, you want to say. Because you do; you love him. You always have, but sharing such intimate moments with Cillian has just strengthened the feeling you already had. You’re honestly exhausted but still blissed out from Cillian going absolutely feral on you. You have never squirted before, and if you could, you’d let him make you squirt all night. You’d watch as your arousal covers his pretty face, delighting him much like it did earlier. Cillian looked like a kid in a candy store as you gushed for him. 

“I’ve never squirted before, so,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands, “Yeah, I’d consider that angelic.”

“Really?” Cillian asks incredulously, “Never? Not even by yourself?”

“Especially not by myself,” you chuckle, uncovering your face to look at Cillian, “You’re better than any vibrator or dildo I own.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cillian bites your jaw playfully before reaching down and grabbing the duvet, covering the both of you with it.

He rolls off you, much to your dismay. But he immediately pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly with his arms as if you’ll disappear. Cillian slides a leg between yours, his knee pressed against you softly. He rubs his nose against your ear, “Still wet, pretty?”

“Shut up,” you mutter shyly, burying your face in his arms.

“Only if you make me,” Cillian teases you, nipping at your earlobe.

You groan, “Too tired,” you feel Cillian’s hand travel down your navel to gauge how wet you still are, “I don’t think I can move.”

“Who said you had to move?” Cillian asks, pulling your thigh up until your leg is draped over his hip, spreading you open for perfect access.

Before you can ask him to touch you, Cillian lines his length up with your still-needy cunt. You’re surprised you had any remainder of horniness left in you. But there’s something about Cillian that naturally turns you on. You’ve noticed it’s gotten more intense now that he’s your sexual partner. It’s like you can’t get enough of him, and he can’t get enough of you, either. Cillian nudges his tip into you before letting it glide in without a hitch. The way you’re laying makes the angle at which he’s inside of you feel irresistible. You let Cillian play with your still-sensitive clit as his hips snap into your ass. His hot, heavy breath is in your ear as he fucks you slowly. You toss your arm behind you, grabbing the back of Cillian’s neck for leverage as you turn your head around. His lips meet yours hungrily, and he swallows your guttural moans as you fuck yourself on his cock. Cillian’s other hand snakes from underneath you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t press them into your skin but lets them rest there, almost possessively. 

You’ve been exploring each other’s bodies ever since the first night you had sex- trying different angles and positions. But you told Cillian that you didn’t want anything rough. That was reserved for a romantic relationship. Cillian felt a twinge of hurt in his chest when you said that, as if you had meant you weren’t planning on a romantic relationship with him specifically. But he understood and respected your boundaries despite his weird sadness about not being able to do certain things with you. Cillian thought it odd because you were not his, so he had no right to hurt you consensually or mark you as his. So, he shouldn’t be so upset about it. Yet he is because he wants you to trust him with everything you have, and he wants to take care of you after the roughness. Cillian wants you to be taken care of. But he knows his limits and that he can’t break the rules of the friends-with-benefits situation. So Cillian doesn’t choke you during sex, or slap you, or kiss you outside the bedroom- especially in public. He bites his tongue every time you do something that melts his heart. He refrains from saying those three little words every day. Cillian has no idea how much you wished he would break the rules just once or how you wished he’d say he loves you. 

Something comes over you, though. You reach a hand up and cover Cillian’s that is on your neck and press his fingers into the sides of your throat. You sigh contently as your head becomes cloudy from the lack of blood flow to your head. Cillian stops rubbing your clit and takes your hand from over his, slipping his fingers between yours and pinning it in front of you.

You whimper in detest, and Cillian nips at the skin behind your ear, “Naughty thing. Don’t break your own rules, sweetheart.”

You sigh in defeat, but before you can pout, a moan rips through your chest. Cillian pushed your clave up into your thigh, thus making it easier for him to ram his cock against your cervix in a way that sends stars floating across your vision. Your hand squeezes his as you feel your release creeping up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, watching as Cillian’s length moves in and out of you quickly.

It was erotic yet romantic, him being so close to you and inside you. You and Cillian are now one, but you wish things were different. 

“Good,” Cillian kisses the back of your neck, his nose drawing circles in your skin delicately.

You breathe deeply, feeling your stomach clench. You cry out Cillian’s name as you unravel, his fingers pressing to your clit. Your body trembles and shakes as he continues his assault on the bundle of nerves, still chasing after his own high as he keeps thrusting into you. Your back arches, toes curling as another wave of pleasure hits you. 

“You’re doing so good, angel,” Cillian praises in your ear, “Taking my cock so well. I’m almost there, just hold on.”

The feeling of Cillian exploding inside you sends you over the edge for the third and final time. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your body convulsing from pleasure. Your pussy clenches around him as he rides out his orgasm, panting in your ear. He almost doesn’t hear you say it. Almost.

“Fuck, I love you,” you whine quietly.

You gasp, immediately realizing what’s slipped from your mouth in a shroud of cloudy pleasure. But you hide your gasp as you catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You pray to whatever is out there that Cillian didn’t hear you proclaim your feelings in a vulnerable moment.

Cillian grunts as he pulls out of you, letting your leg go limp and relax back on the bed. He keeps his hand entangled with yours. But you pull your grasp out of his, turning around and facing him. You hurriedly bury your face in his chest so you can’t look at him and see how he’s possibly reacting to your words. Cillian wordlessly wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him. You fight the urge to cry at the silence of the dimly lit room as Cillian tugs the duvet over your sweaty, naked bodies. You try and steady your breath and keep your heart from racing.

“Can you say it again?” Cillian finally asks after several minutes of dead silence.

You lift your head from his chest, looking at him confused, “Say what?”

Cillian looks at you seriously before lifting his hand to touch your face gingerly, “What you said a moment ago.”

“You didn’t hear that, did y-”

“I did. But I want you to say again.”

Tears brim your eyes as you feel heaviness in your chest- will he make fun of you? Did you just ruin everything?

You let out a choked sob, hiding your face in his neck, “I love you. I fucking love you. There, I said it,” you slam your fist against his chest. “Feel free to hate me, but it’s true.”

“I could never hate you, gorgeous,” Cillian pulls away from you, his hands grabbing your cheeks so you’re looking directly at him.

His eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, much like they did the first time you kissed him weeks ago. You blink away your tears, but Cillian wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I love you too,” Cillian confesses, “I love you so much. You know that?”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but Cillian presses his forehead against yours, and you try to ground yourself. He loves you. Cillian loves you back. Cillian kisses your lips gently as if he’d break you. You grasp his hair, kissing him back passionately.  

“I love you,” you say, pulling away from his lips and kissing his eyelids instead.

“I love everything about you,” you brush your lips across his cheeks, then kiss his nose, “Your angel kisses. Your beautiful eyes. Everything about you. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re perfect.”

Cillian laughs, and you melt at his smile.

“You,” Cillian says, “Are everything to me. Everything that brings me joy, everything that makes me happy.”

You wrap your arms around Cillian’s neck, pulling him close to you as you tuck your face into his neck.

“Never let go,” Cillian says, his arms snaking around your waist and holding you close.

“I won’t,” you say, a heaviness lifting from your chest at last, “I never will.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x you smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy imagine #young cillian murphy #floralcyanide writes

[gr7mes]

STUPID “love makes you stupid.” carl grimes x walsh!reader

tags: angst, some fluff, violence, blood, 6x9

a/n: omg this req was SO good i am sosososo sorry i couldn’t execute it properly 😭 im not so proud of this one, but i hope its ok!! 

you and carl grimes had been best friends ever since you could walk. you both met when your dad brought you to "bring your kid to work day" down at the station. the scent of coffee and the echo of footsteps filled the air.

it started to seem extremely boring, until a stranger approached you and your dad. you saw a little boy standing next to him, and felt a little less lonely. the man recognized you, though you had no idea who he was. "hi there y/n, this is carl." he introduced.

ever since then, you guys were inseparable. you and carl had a bond which was special, it was like no other. you could be yourself around him, and you could tell carl felt the same. the ease, the comfort, like you didn't have to pretend to be anyone else when you were together.

as expected, seeing him for the first time after the apocalypse started unleashed a unique wave of relief within you. you vividly recall the both of you making eye contact and running toward each other. you hugged each other tightly, as if you'd been separated for years.

"i was so scared!" you said, clutching your doll in your hand. "you don't need to be scared anymore," he reassured. "i'm here to protect you." carl loved to be your knight in shining armor, even when you were young.

through all the dark days, and as you both grew older, you two had always been there for each other. no matter whatever crap life threw at you, you guys stuck together. walker got too close to you? dead.

"i would never let anything happen to you. don't worry." he would always say. he was your closest friend, your ride or die. growing up was hard enough during the apocalypse, but having each other made it bearable.

however, as time passed, you started to feel a different way towards him. you started to feel as if things wouldn't be so bad if you guys were more than friends. actually, it was starting to seem like it was all you could dream of.

you thought it was just a one time thing, but you were dumb to think so. you often found yourself blushing at the thought of him, and when he had caught you daydreaming, let's just say he was curious.

"come on, why can't you just tell me who you like?" he asked, growing more agitated by the second. "shut up, i don't like anyone." you said, rolling your eyes playfully. "bullshit, tell me who it is." he said, looking you in the eye, a grin plastered onto his pretty face.

"nope!" you replied, popping the "p."

carl grimes had stolen your heart, and there was no doubt about it. you knew he had you wrapped around his finger, it was quite obvious when you would stress whenever he got the tiniest injury.

"calm down, it's just a cut." "do you ever shut up?" you would say, reaching for the bandaids on the top shelves of your room. "it's really not as bad as it looks." you knew he was telling the truth, it was never that serious. however, you being you, you couldn't help but worry. 

but now? now it was actually serious. too serious. you felt the panic start to sink in the second you saw ron, a vengeful look on his face, pointing a gun in rick's direction. you froze when you realized who was in standing front of him. it was carl. your carl.

"you." ron said. your heart pounded against your ribs. your breaths were shallow and rapid, as a wave of terror gripped you. surely he wouldn't actually shoot. right? so many possibilities were going through your head at once, it was the worst thing you ever experienced.

fortunately, michonne came in a flash. you jumped slightly when her katana pierced through ron's skin. atleast it was all over now though. rick was alright. carl was alright.

or so you thought.

BANG!

his stupid fucking finger slipped. 

all of your negative thoughts came flooding back into your mind the moment the sound of the gunshot hit your eardrums. however, among all of your worries, there was one most prominent. where did the bullet go?

your eyes darted around before your gaze landed on carl. he had his head down, and when he looked up, it felt as if all the air in your lungs had been sucked out of your body. "dad?" he whimpered out.

he had been shot. in the head. directly into his eyesocket. the amount of blood flowing down his face made you sick to your stomach. it was only a matter of seconds before his body went limp and fell to the ground.

you never knew it was possible to feel this angry. there was no way in hell that just happened, and you couldn't do anything to stop it. it should've been you.

your facial expression contorted into one showing pure horror and anxiety. your eyes widened, tears at the rim, threatening to fall out. you breathed heavily, as you felt anguish and rage twist within you. rick lifted carl into his arms and carried him. that was your cue to pull out your knife.

you and michonne ran in front of rick and carl, killing walkers one by one. you were going ballistic, slashing every walker you possibly could, grunts escaping your mouth with every stab. you were going on a rampage, you weren't even thinking, you were just so enraged. how could you have let that happen to him?

blood splattered across your face, but you barely even noticed. hot tears streamed down your cheeks. each drop carried the weight of frustration and sorrow, their salty taste bitter on your lips. your body started to grow tired, but you kept pushing. dozens of walkers were laying on the ground.

now, the focus was getting carl help. and that's what you wanted. but you just couldn't stop. you were about to plunge your bloody knife into yet another walker, but michonne caught your arm in mid-air.

"that's enough." she said. she noticed how your chest rose and fell at a rapid pace, and the way you looked like you wanted to watch the world burn.

she took the knife from your grasp before putting her hand around your shoulder for a few seconds to calm you down. "we have to hurry." she continued to kill every walker in her sight, one by one. you didn't care that your body hurt like hell, you didn't care about all the blood splattered onto you, you didn't care that you were exhausted.

the only thing you cared about was carl. would he be okay? was this the end? were you gonna lose your other half? your heart ached. you weren't even gonna get to tell him how you felt about him.

after what seemed like hours of running and fighting, you found yourself laying down in the infirmary bed next to carl's. he'd been patched up before you. he was sleeping, and you were glad he was getting the rest he needed.

but every time you looked at him, your chest tightened. he should've never even have to be here. he should've never had to go through that, ever.

daryl had a chair pulled up next to your bed. he was like a father figure to you after shane died. he sighed, wiping your now crimson splattered arms with a wet rag to clean off the blood. "y' used the knife i gave you?" he said, not looking up from your arm. "yeah, it's the best i have."

the silence in the room was so loud. it's not that he was disappointed in you, he was proud you were able to defend yourself. it was the fact that you could've died and you still kept pushing that made him so quiet. he cared about you a lot, and he knew you didn't have to fight so hard, especially at your age.

"why'd you do that?" he asks, finally making eye contact with you. you let out a breath before opening your mouth to speak, "love makes you stupid."

it felt nice, to finally be able to talk to someone about your feelings for the blue eyed boy. after all, you were never gonna tell him, so atleast you could tell someone. "damn right it does." he replied, before lighty ruffling your hair. 

"get some sleep, okay kiddo?" daryl said, wiping the last of the blood off your arms. "yeah, jus- please don't te-" "i won't tell a soul." he cut you off, already knowing what you were gonna ask of him. "thanks." you said, smiling.

little did you know, daryl wasn't the only person who heard your late night confession. a "sleeping" carl stirred in his bed, now facing the wall in the opposite direction of you. perhaps it was the exhaustion getting to you, but you could've sworn you heard a light chuckle.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd x reader #twd #carl grimes angst #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes oneshot #twd imagines #twd oneshot #twd fanfiction #chandler riggs

[monstersdownthepath]

A collection of Fey entities

A little different from my usual "a collection of..." posts. Making statblocks isn't my forte, surprisingly; I can, but ADHD Hellbrain kicks in and typically prevents me from actually finishing them, my energy and motivation running out typically by the time I need to select feats. A few of the creatures on this list are victims of that very phenomenon, but rather than letting them languish in my drafts forever, I figure I can share what I DO have in the form of lore and some basic ideas.

So, here's a bunch of fairies!

One of them I was going to write down, the Harvest Lords, are a concept I've developed too much for me to put here; they're a group of Archfey with proper domains and Boons, and thus will get their own post. Eventually.

Warnings: There are unsanitary themes in the Brughyorb Gremlin spot, as well as Totagoda. The final entry (Rotten Crick) deals with themes of animal death and allusions to animal torture, dealing specifically with sea life.

Brughyorb Gremlins (CR 1/2 Chaotic Evil Small Fey) are small, round, filthy creatures that are almost all mouth and stomach, resembling fleshy cauldrons when they fully open their mouths and scamper about on their arms and legs, and are thus also known as Cauldron Gremlins, Burplings, and Bowlbellies. Their grinding teeth and powerful jaws are best suited for plant matter (wood is a delicacy to them), but they won't hesitate to feed on whatever carrion they manage to find, even though the majority of what they eat isn't actually digested.

Brughyorb Gremlins hold most of what they shovel into their maws in the first of their two stomachs, where their pungent gut juices fester and melt their food into noxious sludge so malodorous it's actually acidic. Slow and unbalanced even when they're empty, they lay in waiting for an innocent passerby to cross whatever hiding spot they've holed up in before leaping out with a wet shriek, and when their victim inhales in order to scream in surprise, the gremlins unleash a horrific belch directly into the victim's face. Overwhelming nausea is the most common result of such a sensory assault (though especially unlucky ones may catch the fatal Filth Fever), victims disoriented not only by the scare, but their entire world becoming overtaken by an indescribably vile stink, preventing them from fighting back as the gremlin takes whatever it wants from them and scampers off into the shadows, cackling with terrible glee.

Though they're larger than most gremlins, Brughyorb Gremlins are just as cowardly and prone to fleeing whenever someone even moderately well-armed comes along. If a foe proves especially dangerous and their burps aren't cutting it, they'll loose the contents of their stomachs to form slick, acidic pools that carry an eye-watering reek with them to trip up and potentially even kill their pursuers, either immediately through acid damage or eventually through disease. Being directly disgorged upon is an experience so profoundly unpleasant that most beings subjected to it immediately switch careers into something that will prevent this incident from ever happening again... though the fact a Brughyorb's stench is nearly impossible to scrub away and lingers for many weeks means the horrible little beasts can easily track the scent of their past victims in order to get them again.

Despite their foulness, their gut juice is an alchemical reagent highly prized by alchemists for its ability to break down and, with a bit of tinkering, ferment just about any organic matter, making them highly desirable for anyone hoping to create not just powerful acids, but potent fertilizers, fermented foods, or alcohol. Alchemists desiring the gremlin's gut juice, of course, rarely risk seeking it out themselves.

----

Tintink Gremlins (CR 1 Chaotic Evil Tiny Fey) are also known as Nail Gremlins, Sharpener Pixies, Hammerlings, Nailbiters, Sharpies, and other such names. While most fey fear the touch of iron, Tintink Gremlins collect the substance in earnest despite being just as vulnerable to it as any other fey. Contact with cold iron burns and pains them, but rather than shrinking away from it, they revel in it, with many of them boldly wearing sharpened points of cold iron for the specific purpose of terrorizing and bullying other fairies, as well as protecting themselves from being bullied or terrorized by others.

Tintinks are obsessed with the collection and the sharpening of metal pins, tacks, screws, caltrops, and especially nails, pilfering such items from workshops, lumberyards, factories, and even homes. Loose items are of course the easiest for them to get, their tiny backpacks and leather aprons full to bursting with stacks of nails they sweep off workbenches, but they're also prone to using hammers, crowbars, and pliers sized for their tiny hands to wrench fasteners from whatever surface they're embedded in. Their hoarding slowly but surely destroys furniture, floors, rafters, and eventually entire structures one stolen screw at a time, fleeing only when the infested building collapses entirely.

Even when they're not destroying buildings, Tintinks are horrid menaces. Their wretched claws, coarse palms, and rough tongues can shave metal with the ease of a whetstone, and they use these to sharpen whatever points they get ahold of until they can pierce the thick leather of most common shoes or gloves... and they lay them out in preparation to do exactly that, cackling in wicked glee whenever someone impales their feet or hands on their sharps collections.

They are quite dangerous for a gremlin, capable of causing terrible wounds and even deaths if they're sufficiently motivated, but they are easily caught and removed by those who can take advantage of their fairy quirks. Their obsession with sharpening borders on an irresistible compulsion, and many Tintinks have been caught and exterminated by fey hunters leaving out piles of dull nails, bent forks, and chipped knives, which the gremlins cannot help but sit down among and work on, leaving them vulnerable to ambush.

----

Steraba (CR 2 Neutral Good Diminutive Fey) are also known as Honey Fairies, Porridge Pixies, Mice Fey, and other such names. They resemble miniature humanoids with mouse-like features such as dewy eyes, rounded ears, long tails, paws, or combinations thereof (sometimes to the point they're just anthropomorphic mice), scarcely larger than the pests they resemble. Despite their appearance, Steraba are not pests themselves and are in fact one of many helpful fey known as House Spirits, and can be a genuinely helpful force in one's home... if one forgives their tendency to pilfer easily-missed items left in their field of vision.

Steraba make their homes in mouseholes inside occupied buildings, living among families of mice (never rats, they despise rats) which they take great pains to keep safe, healthy, and out of sight of the mortals with whom they share a space. Their lives are spent going on frequent, exciting 'raids' with their mice families (whom they can both communicate with and easily train), scampering unseen through homes like a spy trying to avoid being spotted by guards as they run missions such as 'read the next chapter of a book,' 'steal the button,' 'get to the grain stores,' 'slay the attic spider,' 'push out the rats,' and other such objectives. Between missions, they engage in surprisingly elaborate crafting projects; anything inedible they steal is used to decorate their tiny homes, if not by itself, then as part of a greater project. Unknowing families may have entire miniature art galleries in their walls!

Like most House Spirits, Steraba dislike being seen or acknowledged, and spending too long looking at one or talking about its existence aloud with one's family or neighbors is a sure way to drive it off completely. Even more than this, harming a mouse is a grave insult to the Mouse Pixies, who may respond by pilfering valuable or treasured items with Mage Hand, performing acts of vandalism with Prestidigitation and mundane tools, and even causing painful or humiliating household accidents against repeat and grievous offenders. Treating the mice with the calmness and respect one would treat a neighbor, however, will see a household blessed by the tiny pixies who use their talents--magical and mundane--to slay more harmful pests, drive off more malevolent fey, and provide just as well for their "big families" as they do the "small families." A Steraba can magically turn a single grain into a whole loaf of hot bread or a bowl of nutritious porridge that's filling even for a Medium-sized creature, letting them stretch the most meager of food stores for days or weeks on end, and can conjure small amounts of honey, sugar, and jam each day to assure the meals are never boring. A Steraba who has lived in a home for many years and established a positive relationship with its big family may even begin gifting the mortals with pieces of art it has made, which act as good luck charms so long as the owner takes care to say it was a 'gift from my neighbor' if they are ever asked where the trinket came from.

----

The Filoxenia (CR 11 Neutral Medium Fey) are humanoid fey with golden skin and hair like stalks of wheat, so rare that it was believed there was only one for quite some time. These are fey many cautionary tales are spoken of, fey for whom the Laws of Sacred Hospitality are absolutes and generosity is the holiest of virtues. These fey take on the shapes of beggars, wanderers, and vagrants of various ancestries as they travel the world in the search of kindness, visiting the lowest muckrakers in their hovels, to the meager homes of farmers, to the mansions of nobles and royals to test their treatment of visitors. How, exactly, they perform their tests always varies, but it almost always begins with a simple request: Shelter, just for one night, and a meal of whatever the host can provide, just enough to let them see the next dawn.

The Filoxenia cannot be identified while they're in disguise, their own magic thwarting magical attempts to pierce it; the most reliable way to tell that you've encountered one is the gentle smell of honey and wheat which accompanies them, a scent they take pains to hide with mud and dusty clothes or, in rare cases, perfumes, but which they can never completely cover. Even if you know, however, it is in your best interest to play along and not allow it to sway your decision! Treating your new guest as you would any other is part of the test.

These fey exist to test mortals in their proficiency with and knowledge of the Laws of Sacred Hospitality, and each one has different means of both testing and rendering judgment. More lawful Filoxenia typically treat their task with the utmost of seriousness, and have a mental checklist they gradually move down during their stay in a mortal's home where failing even one step fails the whole test. More chaotic Filoxenia are much more likely to act as unruly guests, assessing the patience of their host, making gradually more unreasonable requests to see just how far the host is willing to go and rendering their judgment based on the host's breaking point; too soon (strict) or too late (lenient) and they fail.

The reward for passing their test is often simple but always beneficial; they may arrange for a parcel of valuable gems to be delivered to the host, repair flaws in their home, or magically enchant a tool or piece of furniture the host owns in a way which will always be useful to them. Impressing the fey may cause them to perform feats such as keeping the host's food stores full for a year and a day, blessing the host with a boon of good luck and health, grant them a useful magical item, blessing their livestock with health and virility, or introducing a helpful House Spirit into the home... but for all their potential blessings, their curses are the stuff of legends and horror stories.

Providing the bare minimum of hospitality is one thing (which earns the stingy host naught but a bowl of gruel or perhaps a new pair of socks for their trouble), but treating the Filoxenia poorly or, most damnably, rejecting their plea for mercy and assistance at one's doorstep? Such a host would be lucky if the worst thing that happened to them was the death of their livestock. An especially offended Filoxenia, such as one physically harmed by the host, can go as far as to curse an entire household to experience grave misfortune which, eventually, will lead to the death of all within in no more than a year.

----

Totagoda, the Uninvited Guest (CR 13 Chaotic Evil Large Fey) is a unique fey entity, an object of both scorn and amusement in the First World and a downright blight in the Universe whenever he deigns to enter it. He is a wild combination of a bloated toad and a gluttonous goat, standing on his back two legs as a man does, with three bulbous eyes always surveying the area as he searches for his next meal, the remains of which are added to the breathtaking tapestry of reeking stains over his clothing and skin.

Totagoda is a gluttonous, wretched beast of a fey, his primary modus operandi involving taking the shape of beggars, wanderers, and vagrants, hoping to gain invitation into the home of unsuspecting mortals who do not realize just what's standing at the door. Unfortunately, as one may surmise from his title, he is quite liberal with determining what qualifies as an 'invitation' into someone's home, with even strained conversation or simply holding a door open for too long becoming cause for him to push past his unfortunate host and slip inside. Only slamming the door in his face and refusing to speak will cause him to move on. Once inside, he takes a seat at the kitchen table and bullies his hosts into providing for him, often relying on the victim's fear or good manners (or both) to prevent them from seeking aid even as he wolfs down whatever food (or anything close to food) they can provide.

Victims of the Uninvited Guest quickly find themselves eaten out of house and home as his loud demands for food grow ever more violent and unreasonable, his monstrous form gradually revealing itself as he gorges himself. By the point he's revealed as a true and literal monster, it's far too late for his host, with him threatening their belongings, their health, or their very lives if they don't comply, the foul fey holding their treasured belongings or even their family members hostage to force their hand. When all the food in the house is exhausted, victims are forced into the marketplaces where they're expected to spend all their remaining money on a further banquet for the fey. Victims who can give no more may find themselves ensorcelled and forced to provide against their will, butchering their livestock, pets, or their unfortunate neighbors to feed Totagoda, until eventually he grows bored with the current fare and snaps up his host whole and alive with his massive tongue, moving on and leaving any surviving family members nothing but a destroyed home and horrific memories.

Sending out invitations to a party or celebration when Totagoda is stalking an area is a dangerous affair, because no matter the intended celebration, one can be assured it will end in tragedy and horror; many malevolent fey have, in fact, wielded the Uninvited Guest as a weapon by gifting him invitations to the party of a rival or hated enemy. When feeling especially peckish and shameless, he will use the public nature of taverns, restaurants, markets, and other such spaces where food may be found to barge in and begin stuffing his face, using threats, charming magic, or outright mystic domination against the owners, forcing them to ignore his crimes until they become too great to rationalize even with his spellwork clouding their minds. He prefers the 'thrill' of forcing his way into the homes of helpless mortals who cannot seek aid to feed him, using public eateries as a last resort, as he despises the concept of experiencing consequences (which is why he flees the First World as much as possible; he has made many enemies among Archfey and Eldest). Despite his considerable power and unnatural resilience, Totagoda is a coward and a bully, and at the first sign of any trouble (even trouble he could easily deal with) he is more likely to flee than fight, flinging his disease-ridden, acidic dung and unleashing nauseating belches at any pursuers until he can finally escape.

----

That Old and Rotten Crick, (CR 15 Neutral Evil Medium Fey), also known as Rotten Old Crick (and variants thereof), the Devil Fisherman, the Demon Angler, the Barnacle, Captain Hook, and a thousand other names with varying levels of fear or vitriol, is among one of the strangest denizens of the First World. Appearance-wise, he is a humanoid being, though not a hint of true flesh can be seen through the coverall-clothing of an angler that he wears; what isn't covered by clothes is studded with barnacles or coral growth. His vest is adorned by countless hooks, flies, whatever equipment he wishes to keep on hand rather than in his beaten up but magical tacklebox (the Artifact known as the Tomb of Karaphas), and extra parts for his Artifact-level fishing rod and primary weapon, the Tidepool Reaper. His face (if he has one) perpetually hidden in the shadow of his fishing cap, and he speaks with the smooth cadence of a devil and maniacal purpose of a daemon.

Nearly an Archfey in terms of power, Rotten Crick does not seek influence and remains outside of whatever political nonsense the others have going on... though his actions have a great many Archfey and even one of the Eldest furious with his very existence. Rotten Crick, you see, despises all life in the sea, especially the lives of any creature which could be called a 'fish.' His absolute hatred for all sealife has earned him a many enemies among waterway guardians and sea-dwelling fey, but just as many allies, though not for the reasons one may think; many stories circulate across many worlds of a mysterious angler approaching a fisherman or sailor with promises of rods, reels, baits, hooks, and nets which will assuredly catch enough fish to feed not only them, but their families and the families of their neighbors as well. Indeed, Rotten Crick has no animosity towards most mortal life, and is actually quite amicable, willing to help any down-on-their-luck man on the coast fish enough to live, or even make a business! There are rare stories of him going out of his way to save fishermen whose lives are endangered by the sea... but it is all for the singular goal of eliminating as many fish as possible and inspiring others to do the same. He will sit with other mortal anglers for many hours, fishing alongside them and making occasional, casual conversation, but anyone who knows what they're dealing with is advised to keep it casual, because any extended conversation with him will gradually turn towards alarmingly enthusiastic diatribes on how terribly fish suffer when hooked and dragged from the water, or disturbingly thorough explanations of the many deaths caused by sea beasts all over the world, in order to justify their torture and extermination.

He doesn't even eat any of his catches, enraged by the very idea of putting a fish in his body. If there is no one nearby to gift them to, he either abandons them on the shore to rot or, if feeling especially spiteful, slices them apart with fillet knives and hooks and leaves the disassembled bodies for the birds. He holds no love for creatures he calls "betrayers," which includes dolphins, whales, and seals, such unfortunates earning swift and terrible ends by his hands. Intelligent sea beings, especially merfolk, are in danger of torturous disassembly while still alive, as he draws sadistic joy from hearing their cries.

Why, precisely, he harbors such irrational hatred for sealife is something he has never explained to anyone who's asked, and likely never will. At the very least, any grand and far-reaching plans he may actually have to depopulate the seas of Golarion are slow going, if they're happening at all, held back by the sadism and hatred which drives him; it has been explained to him many times (primarily by daemons) that he could efficiently depopulate the seas by way of pollution, poison, and industrial expansion, but his hate is so great that he seems to prefer the more visceral, personal approach.

#original concepts

[league-of-legends-hcs]

NSFW Kayn Thingy

Kayn x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mind control (ish?)

Just imagine sitting under a tree in the forests of Ionia, watching the enchanted waters flow in front of you, lightly illuminated by the moon that shone beautifully through some clouds.

There was a light chill in the air when the summer breeze whisked around you, the hairs at the base of your neck standing up whenever the gentle whisp touched your skin.

But not only because of that. soft lips were placed on the back of your neck, strong, calloused hands, one feeling a little jagged and a little warmer than the other, were gently holding your forearms... And his scent... God it unleashed a wave of emotions you could hardly describe... You felt at ease and yet excited and on edge..

"I missed you..." His voice spoke into your ear, causing a shudder to run down your spine. "Now I finally have a moment for you, my precious jewel..." The young assassin turned you around to face him, your eyes meeting his. The beautiful orbs were filled with relief and a hunger you could barely describe... Only then you noticed the change that his body had undergone, too mesmerized by the voice that seemed to put you into a trance after such a long time of not hearing it.

His face had a mark, one of his bright blue eyes turned dark... And red.. and his skin... It had turned.. partially black.. "Kayn..." You whispered, shocked... Feeling fear and pity wash over you at once. Your loved one had been... Cursed... Somehow..

"My jewel.. " he raised his hand, the corrupted one, the pain in his voice overwhelming once he had seen the fear in you. You were shivering, unable to move away from him, whimpering a little, now that you had seen the way he had changed... It did scare you. Kayn had changed... His... Aura had changed. "Don't be afraid.." he whispered, the clouds seeming to darken the sky now, the one you had called your love melting into the shadows neatlessly... Yet you could feel the heat of his touch. An almost searing heat. Another voice, deeper and outerworldly seemed to speak from where Kayn stood. "She is drenched in fear... How delectable..."

You couldn't help but jump at it, yelping, but the hand on your face that now grasped your chin kept you quiet mostly. "I'm begging you.." with one swift motion, you were pulled into your lover, feeling his heart beat in his chest erratically. "My jewel I'm begging you.." he began to kiss you now. It was passionate but feverish.. with very rough moments.. as if he was fighting himself. "... Do not cast me away... I promise you, I will.." his hands now wrapped around your body, basically pulling you on top of him, placing you in his lap, "... I will never hurt you. You know that.." there was a hunger in his tone that you could clearly hear.

Something he could really barely control...

But you thought back to your time before he had left on this quest to find a fabled weapon that would make him a Shadow Warrior... And he had never given you a reason to think that he might hurt you.. and to be quite honest, you had yearned for his touch for a while...

"I know, Kayn..." You now cupped his face, the glance of the blood red eye still very unfamiliar to you, and kissed him deeply. You let yourself fall because you still trusted him... You knew that your Kayn wouldn't ever hurt you. You knew that he had excellent self control but this new... Creature that corrupted him seemed to make it physically hurt to be around you... In a way. "What do you need?" The young man closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. His chest rumbled and his mouth moved when the other voice and his own growled "You."

A blush whichs color would make a cherry jealous slipped onto your cheeks, especially when both of his hands found your behind. Instinctively you bit your lip. Kayn however, looking a little dazed when his eyes opened, was still at war with himself. "She's mine, Rhaast!" The man growled, while the voice cackled and then said "Naive child. If I want her, I will have her. You cannot hold me forever."

You were so confused. Embarrassed too. Was someone around? Had Kayn been followed all this time and knew about it? Were you just imagining the voice? Or was it really the creature? "What's going on?" You asked, but gazing into this endless void of his left eye had you dazed as well. "The creature that I am fighting within my body can talk." He told you, half absentminded since his hands had started sliding around the fabric of your loose knotted attire. you hadn't felt the need to put on any underwear since you hadn't expected any company and Kayn was happy to discover that, untying the knot of the fabric that held your clothes together, making your dress fall off of your shoulders, pooling around your thighs.

You should be questioning your sanity, but you couldn't. it was like he had really entranced you.. and little did you know that Rhaast did. Just touching you could corrupt you in such a way... Since Kayn had not nearly mastered containing him as much as he wished.

"I want to feel you." He let you know, sliding his hands along your sides, pulling you right against him, feeling his body against you. Especially the bulge that had formed in his pants.

"I want to feel you too.." you said, your desire spiking now, your body heating up while you kissed him hungrily. In the back of your mind, you could now hear Rhaasts voice too. "Yes.. give into it..." And it seemed so easy... To just do whatever he said. To give into your pleasure. Yet, Kayn took his Time. His normal hand found your core, his fingers working it expertly, having your twitch and writhe on him while he now purred "Grind on me... Be a good girl..."

You felt a shudder run down your spine when he began circling your clit and you obeyed almost immediately, the fabric of his pants feeling incredibly good against your sensitive pussy. You hadn't felt anyone else for such a long time that just his words and fingers could bring you so close to the edge.

Little moans began to slip from your lips, your eyes closed in pleasure and only when his corrupted hand squeezed your chin you opened them to look at him. At this... Dark expression he held at this moment. This joy from seeing you whine and writhe.. yet with something threatening in his eyes.

You were grinding on his thigh, the cold air around you letting you feel even better. It also let you feel the intense heat from Kayns flesh against yours. it almost felt painful, like it would sear your flesh. "Kayn please.." you whined, still holding back your noises as much as you could.

"I want you to come." He almost snarled while now wrapping his hand around your throat, still pleasuring you with the other one, and squeezing lightly, getting you a little dizzy. Now, you sobbed, both hands grabbing onto the darkin flesh that pushed the air out of you. And in your delirious state... Well... You came, croaking out his name while your muscles tightened and then.. went slack. As did his hand, the one at your core wrapping around you, holding you by your back, the other wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you leaned against him. "More..." Rhaast demanded. "That wasn't nearly enough.. I need more!" But Kayn shook his head. "Mine. She's my jewel... Mine only."

Hoookay. Some Kayn x Reader.. do you guys want a part 2 where Rhaast manages to convince Kayn? Or just the normal smexy stuff? Or nothing at all? Lemme know!

#leauge headcanons #lol kayn #kayn league of legends #kayn x reader #kayn smut

[honeybeefae]

shower sex with cass? btw, love this idea and your writing ❤️

Soapy Surprise (Cassian x Reader)

BINGO: Shower Sex

(Another fun one and I know I’ve said this before but I am a Cassian girly. I love him. I loved this. Also, I can't believe we haven't gotten a bingo yet?! Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut

“I totally won.” You laughed as you walked into the cabin, stomping your feet to remove the snow that still clung to your boots. “No wonder you always are in last place for the annual snowball fight. You suck.”

Cassian rolled his eyes as he walked in behind you, shaking his head that was wet with snow. “I let you win, kid. If I unleashed my full power you wouldn’t be able to participate in the actual fight.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” You grinned while shrugging off your heavy jacket. The cabin was quiet, the rest of your group out doing their own thing while leaving the two of you alone. You didn’t mind though nor did Cassian. The two of you had become fast friends since you first met and everything was just easy when it came to him.

You rubbed your hands together and glanced over at him, surprised to see he was already watching you. He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat faster but you ignored it. You weren’t going to look into anything that could cause your friendship harm.

“I’m gonna go warm up in the shower but I’ll be down in ten, okay?” You say while pointing your finger at him. “Do not drink all my wine again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, giving you a two-finger salute which made you snort. You quickly ascended the stairs and picked the largest bathroom in the house, shutting the door behind you. The thought of locking it made you pause but you ignored it, knowing Cassian wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

The bathroom was made for the Illyrians but you greedily used it whenever you could. It had a giant skylight and bathtub underneath it that was large enough to fit their wings comfortably while the shower had a rainfall head and glass doors that made it steam up nicely. You were half tempted to ask Rhys who built it so you could have one in your apartment.

Your clothes were difficult to get off due to the wetness but eventually you shucked them off, leaving them in a small pile by the door. The only sound in the room was the soft pads of your feet as you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up. 

Steam quickly filled the room and you took a deep breath, enjoying the way the heat immediately began to warm your skin as you stepped into the scalding water. You closed your eyes and let it run over your bare skin, tipping your head back and relaxing your shoulders.

As you started your washing routine you missed the door opening from how loud the shower was. The glass door opened behind you and you only noticed when a cool breeze hit the back of your body.

“What the fuck?!” You shouted, trying to cover yourself when you saw Cassian beginning to undress. “Cassian what the hell are you doing?”

“Relax!” He griped, tossing his boxers behind him and stepping into the giant shower. You flattened yourself against the wall, your head turned to the side as you looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at him. “I was cold as hell and thought I would join you.”

“I am naked Cassian.” You growled, questioning his common sense as he brushed off your concerns.

“I could care less, Y/N. I just wanted to wash myself really quick and this is the only shower that can fit me. In fact, why didn’t you go to a different shower?” He cocked his head, watching as you turned around in anger and disbelief.

“Because I called dibs on the shower first, idiot!” You argued, not even caring that your body was now fully exposed. “If you would learn to wait your turn this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Well, regardless, I’m not leaving. So either suck it up and be an adult or leave.” He smirked, grabbing your shampoo to begin washing his hair. You swore you saw red as you snatched it out of his hand.

“I’m not leaving, I was here first.” You frowned, turning back around to finish washing the suds out of your hair. “Just…stay on your side.”

“No problem, kid. Just keep your eyes at an appropriate level.” He snickered, dodging the bottle of shampoo that you threw at his head. 

The two of you took your showers in relative silence, both of you sneaking glances when you thought the other couldn’t see, but just as you were about to finish up Cassian cleared his throat.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” He said softly, his wings dropped so he could see you over his shoulder. You raised an eyebrow and lightly shook your head. 

“I swear to the Mother if you ask me to wash your d-” You began but stopped when he shouted before you could finish your sentence, smiling as his face grew red.

“You need to get your mind out of the gutter. I just need you to wash the bottom of my wings.” Cassian rolled his eyes, holding out the washcloth. However you hesitated, the air suddenly growing thick. You knew how sensitive their wings were and how selective they were about who touched them. Cassian himself had told you about it.

“Are you…are you sure?” You asked slowly, gingerly taking the rag. He nodded and extended his wings outwards.

“I’m not a barbarian, kid. I can control myself. Just do it quick and don’t make it weird.” 

You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, trying to rationalize it in your mind before you could chicken out. It was just one naked friend helping another naked friend wash a hard-to-reach spot. Nothing weird about it…right?

Your fingers shook as you started on his left wing, stopping briefly when he tensed before pushing through to get it over with. The tension was building quickly as you did your best to wipe thoroughly yet softly, not wanting to tear the delicate skin. He was stiller than you had ever seen him as you tried to control your breathing.

As you finished up the left side and began to go to the right you caught a very brief glance of his cock. It was hard and standing proudly, itching to be stroked. Both of his hands were fisted at his side as you waivered over his right wing.

“Cassian I can-” You began but he snapped at you, his voice straining.

“Just hurry up.” He snapped, his back muscles flexing as you bit down on your lip and nodded. The sight of him hard was burning in your eyes but not painfully. No, you liked it. You would have to be blind to not see how handsome he was but you also didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him.

Sex complicated things and you didn’t want that, no matter how much you did want him. It was your dirty little secret and you weren’t going to bring it to light. 

He shuddered when you ran the soft material along the inner ridge, his cock jumping in need. You felt a mix of desire and guilt in your gut, knowing this was just a natural reaction and he probably was embarrassed. 

You finished up the rest of your cleaning at record speed, practically throwing the rag back at him and mumbling something about needing to get downstairs. As you began to walk past him you felt an iron grip wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

The water was still hot as you waited there, holding your breath. Cassian tightened his grip for a brief moment before he let you go, his hand falling back to his side. You hated the way you wish he had pulled you into him.

You made the mistake of looking back at him and you couldn’t stop your eyes from falling to his cock, a sharp wave of arousal going straight to your pussy as you swiftly raised them back up to his face. It was too late, of course. He could smell you.

And before you could plead your innocence or apologize you felt him grab your hip and pull you into his wet body. Cassian’s face was tilted down as he watched you, water droplets running down his chest as he clenched his jaw in restraint.

“This shower was a mistake.” He whispered, cupping your face softly and running his thumb over your cheek. “We need to get out and pretend this didn’t happen.”

Neither one of you moved.

Your mind was screaming at you to run, to save whatever scrap of friendship would still be alive after this encounter before it was ruined forever. However, with the way he was looking at you and how good his body felt against yours, you ignored it.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked softly, opening your mouth when his thumb caught your bottom lip. He slipped it inside and you rolled your tongue around it, drunk off the scent of his musk and your own arousal. 

Cassian groaned as the feeling went straight to his cock. He swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing before he dipped his head down so that his forehead was against your own. You sighed when he removed his thumb, peeking up at him through your eyelashes as the two of you stood at the point of no return.

“Whatever you want…just touch me.” His voice was now desperate as he closed his eyes in anticipation. You waited for a brief moment before raising up on your tiptoes to kiss him, your hand wrapping around his large cock to test the waters.

He hissed through his teeth from your soft touch, his hips involuntarily bucking. You couldn’t believe how pent up he already was so you decided to take mercy on him, stroking him as you moved your lips across his face.

You dipped down to his collarbone and nipped at the thin skin, enjoying the red marks that appeared in your wake. He was barely hanging on by a thread as you jacked him off, the size difference alone making him want to bend you over and break you. 

One of his hands was lazily running up and down your back as you stepped closer to him, your own juices coating your inner thighs as you used your free hand to stroke the front of his wings. Cassian growled a warning but you just gave him a smug smirk, feeling totally in control as you took the tips of your fingernails and ran it all the way down.

“If you don’t stop soon, I’m going to cum.” He grunted, nostrils flaring as you increased the speed of your strokes.

“Do it, Cass.” You taunted, gazing up at him through heavy lids. “Cum all over my hand. Be a good boy for me.”

The boldness of your words surprised you but you both loved it, his lip catching between his teeth as he lost himself in the feeling of you pleasuring him. You watched in anticipation, wanting to see the face he made as he spilled his seed, and when you used the pad of your thumb to swipe under the pink head he lost it.

Your name fell off his lips like a prayer as he threw his head back and groaned, his hips following your hand as he came all over your hand and stomach. It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen and did nothing to cure the ache between your legs, noting how his cock stayed hard even after he had stopped thrusting.

His chest was rising and falling quickly as he looked down at you, a primal hunger in his eyes that had your own breath catching in your throat. You dropped your hand and took a step back but Cassian was quick to pull you towards him, moving so that you were trapped between his body and the wall.

“Your turn.” He whispered, smirking as his wings surrounded the two of you. 

#acotar #acotar reader #acotar reader smut #acotar fic #acotar smut #acotar bingo #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #cassian acotar #cassian smut #cassian acotar smut #acotar imagine #smut #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[little-diable]

How did she? - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

I've always wanted to write a father's best friend fic with Aaron, so here we go. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: (Y/n) runs into Aaron at a coffee shop, and even though she wonders why his name sounds so familiar, she ignores the warning signs.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), choking, age gap, dom!Aaron, sneaking around, somewhat public sex, basically just smut

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (about 2k words)

How did she end up here? How did she end up with her back arched off her father’s best friend’s mattress? How did she end up with his fingers wrapped around her throat and her legs slung around his waist? 

It had been an early morning the first time she had crossed paths with Aaron Hotchner, running into him at a coffee shop only a few blocks down from her apartment. Back then (y/n) hadn’t known anything about his ties to her father, the handsome man with dark eyes that told a story of lost lives and pouring blood, hands bigger than any she had seen before, made to handcuff those that unleashed their trauma upon their victims. 

“Oh god, I am sorry.” (Y/n) had murmured, dilated pupils taking in his handsome features, feeling her heat spread through her system. His voice had been soft, telling her that nothing had happened, a simple “Don’t worry” that would echo through her mind for weeks to come. She had been hooked from the very first moment, would have dropped to her knees right there and then for the man. 

The scent of his cologne had stuck for days, reminding her of their small interaction whenever her mind got a few seconds to daydream, wondering who the man that carried himself with an almost mysterious aura was. Back then she had been oblivious, eyes trying to make out the name that had been printed onto the ID-card hanging from his suit jacket, wondering why the name sounded so familiar. 

A few days later – days that had been spent with wandering hands and teeth marks left on her lower lip – (y/n) had run into him again, smiling at the man that stepped into the coffee shop only a few moments after her. It would have taken her too much courage to speak up, to exchange words with the man that hadn’t left her thoughts, but Aaron had taken the task upon himself, starting a conversation with the smiling woman. And even though he hadn’t shared much about himself, only his name, (y/n) had left the coffee shop with his number saved in her contacts and her heart skipping a few too many beats. 

She should have paid more attention to his name and the history tied to it, should have thought more about his profession and why everything about him seemed so familiar – but she hadn’t, ignoring the warning bells going off whenever she met with Aaron, joining him on a afternoon walk, grabbing coffee in the early morning or some food late at night. Nothing had happened until that very night she had been invited to her parents house, freezing in her step when her eyes had fallen upon Aaron’s frame. 

“(Y/n), do you remember Aaron? It has been a few years.” She had stuttered a small “No”, unable to rip her eyes from his confused features. Both hadn’t managed to look at one another for more than a handful of seconds, cursing one another for being this stupid, but while their conscious selves had stressed about Aaron's tie to (y/n)’s father, they hadn’t been able to stop their need for one another. 

It had been dangerous, stupid even, and yet it had been the first night they’ve shared a kiss, with (y/n) pressed against the door of Aaron’s SUV, hidden in the veil of darkness night had wrapped around the two, and her hands tugging on his roots. His voice had sounded deeper, raspier than before, growling a soft “So desperate for me, for your father’s friend, what would he think of you?”. It should have been enough to rip them out of their trance, stepping away from one another, and yet it had only pushed them closer together. 

––––

“Fuck, Aaron, I need more.” (Y/n) was heavily panting, hands gripping his covers, back arched off his mattress. Aaron was nestling between her thighs, mouth pressed against her core, tasting her arousal. His fingers were curled against her swollen spot, pushing her closer to her breaking point. Their eyes met every now and then, filled with lust, a desire reaching deeper than anything they’ve ever felt before. 

Aaron didn’t reply, he kept his eyes focused on her features, clearly challenging the moaning woman. He wouldn’t let go, not until she came on his fingers, with his name rumbling through her and her eyes squeezed shut. And who was she to pull away from him, not used to being treated like this. 

It was simple really, Aaron treated her like no other man ever had, with enough care to actually pay attention to (y/n), to the things she wanted and needed. And even though both knew that it was wrong what they were doing, they didn’t find the strength to let go, chasing one another whenever his job allowed them to spend time together. 

“So close, I-” (y/n)’s head rolled back, moaning into the night, letting her orgasm wash through her. Aaron kept pumping his fingers, not pulling away just yet, relishing in the sounds she made, how her walls clenched his fingers, not prepared for an orgasm this heavy. He only rose from his position when he felt her relax, panting with a few chuckles spilling from her lips. 

Aaron met her for a kiss, hands placed on either side of her head, giving her a few seconds to prepare herself for another round, heartbeat not able to slow down. Her shaking hand found his cock, pumping him a few times before he gently pushed her away, only to reach for a condom. Their swollen lips met for another kiss, momentarily distracting (y/n) from the feeling of his cock brushing through her folds, pushing into her without another warning. 

Her gasps guided him, like a ship making it through the dark sea, desperately searching for a lighthouse to guide it, weighing its capitan in false comfort. Aaron fucked her rough, skin meeting skin with every ferocious thrust, and yet he paid enough attention to her sounds, begging him to change his pace, needing to feel more of him, fingers and cock. 

(Y/n) was a moaning mess, putty in his hands – ever since they’ve fucked for the first time, one with their emotions guiding them. Aaron’s hand found her throat, squeezing just enough to heighten her senses, eyes not daring to flutter close, trying to uncover every thought, every emotion swimming in his pupils, a task she slowly but surely managed to master perfectly. 

“Atta girl, look at you, you’d do everything for me, huh?” She could only slightly nod her head, caged against the pillow that smelled like him, making her feel as if she was stuck in a simulation, surrounded by all things screaming Aaron Hotchner. A simulation she never wanted to break from, one with the man that currently fucked her closer to the edge, allowing her second orgasm of the night to rock through her. 

Tears dripped from her eyes, she was already overstimulated, unable to stop her body from trembling, shaking beneath the tall man as if she was freezing cold, drenched by the pouring rain, washing away her sins. His raspy chuckles left her burning from inside out, moaning his name as she came on his cock, clawing her fingernails into his forearm. 

Aaron followed her moments later, releasing himself into the condom with a groan, forehead pressed against hers. Only then did he let go of her throat, rolling off her to get rid of the condom before he pulled her into his chest, smiling into the kiss she pressed against his lips.

___

“Aaron, please, come in.” Her father’s voice echoed through the house, making her eyes snap towards the door. It was a warm August day (y/n) got to spend at her parent’s house, basking in the heat of the sun with her sunglasses on and her book placed right next to her. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on the words, distracted by the thoughts of Aaron, the man who’d spent the afternoon with her father, needing to keep up their little charade. 

“(Y/n)! Come say hi to Aaron.” Slowly she rose from her sunbed, trying to bite down the groan that threatened to rumble through her, body still aching from the way Aaron had fucked her only a few hours ago. She shot him a smile, eyes ranking over his frame as she neared him, sharing a short hug with the man who carried the marks of her fingernails on his back, hidden by his black dress shirt. 

“It’s good to see you, (y/n). How are you?” With a smirk pulling on his lips, Aaron followed (y/n) and her father back outside, greeting her mother with a kiss to the cheek. She barely spared her reply a thought, unable to think straight with Aaron standing this close to her, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms, eyes hidden by his dark sunglasses. 

Her eyes wandered towards Aaron at any given chance, not paying attention to the conversation her parents had pulled Aaron into, oblivious to the way their daughter stared at the man. And even though Aaron tried to keep his eyes focused on her parents, she felt his gaze flicker towards her every now and then, catching her gaze and the smirk she wore on her lips. 

Perhaps fate was on her side that very day, allowing the two lovers to give in the second her mother left for her afternoon yoga class and her father was pulled away by an important phone call that would take some time. Within moments Aaron pulled (y/n) in for a kiss, pressing her against the kitchen island with a short “Gotta be quiet, doll” rolling off his tongue. 

“We’ll have to be quick, you’re ready for me?” Barely any words managed to leave (y/n) as she took his hand to guide him towards her skirt, cunt bare for his wandering hands. A deep groan clawed through Aaron as his fingers touched her arousal-covered folds, dripping for him. And while (y/n) freed his hardening cock, he ripped a condom open with his teeth, allowing her to roll it down on his cock. 

“Turn around for me.” His tone left her shuddering, body turned from him, front pressed against the kitchen island. Aaron pushed into her without another warning, groaning as his eyes watched his cock disappear inside her tightness. Stiffled moans clawedd through (y/n) as he started fucking her, knowing very well that her father could walk on them any moment. 

She had a hard time keeping quiet, body tense, eyes squeezed shut. Bruises would form on her skin from the way he pushed her against the kitchen island with every thrust, and yet (y/n) couldn’t pay the pain any attention. Aaron had her clinging to the edge, about to let go after only a few thrusts. 

His fingers found her bundle of nerves, circling her clit with a smirk growing on his lips, feeling her clench around his cock. Aaron found pride in the way she was trembling for him, very well aware that he could do anything to her, not pulling away from the man she never wanted to part from again. 

“You’re already done for, huh? I knew you’d be turned on by this, allowing me to fuck you with your dad close.” Aaron’s groans managed to push her over the edge, eyes rolling back into her head, teeth drawing blood from her lower lip. He followed moments later, releasing himself into the condom with a small groan. With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) felt him pull out, taking off the condom before he redressed. 

"I'll get rid of this, tell your dad I had to leave, because of work. I'll see you tonight, right?" She met him for another kiss, murmuring an exhausted "Can't wait" against his smiling lips.

#Aaron Hotchner smut #Aaron Hotch imagine #criminal minds imagine

[andsoigotabutterfly]

Liberation

gf!tara x gf!fem!reader

a.n.: this is my first ever fic, so please make sure to share your thoughts about it...

warnings: blood, mentions of past trauma, slight schizophrenia, murder, mentions of hot scenes, harsh language

English isn't my first language, but I did my best!

word count: 5.1k

Some people say it’s a miracle you are alive. Some say you are cursed, and a threat to the community. Some say that some unworldly power helped you get through your life until now. You agreed with the last one. Nobody in the world knew how you survived your childhood. Except for you.

When you were three years old, you were involved in a car crash, in which both of you parents were inpaled on a tree and died. After that, at the age of five, your godfather, was shot down by the police, because they thought he is going to shoot them first. Of course, you were in the back seat when this happened, and you only survived, because you ducked away from behind your new guard. The orphanage you’ve been put in, burnt down around you, when you were eight.

The „Voice”, you called it. The second part of you, which nobody knew of. The part of you, that you hid from everything and everyone. It was the saviour of you. It was the one, who told you to put your back against you fathers’ seat, before the car crashed, so you would survive the tree that pierced through the front window. It was the one, who told you to duck, just before the gun was fired. It was the one, who told you to hug the ground and crawl to the back door of the building, so you wouldn’t suffocate from the smoke, and so you wouldn’t be trapped inside the building, once the support beam that held the ceiling crashed down. It forced you out of situations, without letting you warn others of the danger. It felt like there was a psychopath on you, who was ready for mayhem and destruction.

And it was the one, who tried to influence all your actions. It spoke to you; it tempted you and it bothered you. Only when in danger, did you listen to it. It was full of envy and hatred. It didn’t want you to make friends or go to activities. It tried to manipulate you and cut you away from those, who you loved and or cared about you. Whenever you tried to talk to it, it was like it didn’t hear you, or just didn’t bother to answer neither your questions nor your accusations.

Other then it being a pain in the ass when it came to the public, it was actually very tolerable when you were home at your aunt’s place. It stayed silent, mostly ever talking when you were trying to choose a movie or a book to read. You’ve had similar tastes and quickly found that the favourite movie series for you both, were the Stab movies. The only place where you could speak to it was in front of the mirror. You’ve rarely done it because it felt weird to speak to your reflection, that didn’t even mimic you. Anyone who would come in would see nothing, except for you talking to your own reflection. After you’ve made this discovery, it was there EVERYWHERE. Any time you would go to the toilet, there it was looking back at you from the mirror with a horrific grin on your mouth. Every time you looked onto the water’s surface it was there, mocking you. You were terrified of it and thus, yourself.

Then, at the end of primary school, when you went home, you’ve had enough. From it. It has teased you with murder before, but now it was meaning it.

“Kill the bitch! Run your knife through her and see what her insides look like! I guess that would be a sight worth seeing!”

You ignored its words. You knew it wouldn’t hear you until you were face to face with it. You barged in the bathroom and unleashed your fury at it on the dirty mirror.

“Shut up!” you screamed.

“If she won’t be ours, she won’t be anybody’s!” it lashed out.

“You want to kill her because she said no to me?!” you asked in disbelief, shame running through you as you remembered back at what happened.

“Of course! Turn the canal’s water red with her blood!”

“I don’t want to hurt her! I won’t hurt anyone!”

“It would be so liberating!” your reflection was feral. The grin on your mouth was mixed with the terrifying sight of absolute madness in your eyes. You needed to convince yourself, that you weren’t seeing your own face. You were feeling the effect it had on you. You were losing control of yourself.

“Get out of my head!”

“I won’t go anywhere! I will help you slice that bitch up and then get on with everybody else, who has hurt you. Think of the kids that bullied you in the orphanage. Now picture their bodies…”

“SHUT UP!” you were yelling at this point. You didn’t care if the neighbours heard you. You wanted it out. It was getting to you. The images that it said, were flashing through your mind, and to say they weren’t nice would’ve been a lie. You gripped the corner of the sink so hard, your fingers hurt and turned white.

“It would fill the hole in your soul. Let go! It would make you whole!”

Your vision went black. You couldn’t see anything but it, with a huge grin on your own mouth. You couldn’t think straight. You wouldn’t give up either though. In a last, desperate attempt, you crashed the mirror with your bare hands as you screamed your lungs out. It hurt like hell. Blood was dripping down your hand. But at that moment, you felt victorious and at peace. When you looked at your reflection through the cracks, you saw yourself. A laugh escaped your lips, as you smiled at yourself. You touched your face, like it’s the first time you saw it. The blood you left on it was now running down your cheeks, but you didn’t mind. It was nowhere to be found. You finally got rid of it.

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High school was calm and peaceful. From the moment you set foot in there, you were famous. Almost everybody knew your name, knew what shit you've been through. Most of the people left you alone, or tried to keep distance for the first half semester, like you were rotten meat. Except for a small group of people, whom you quickly became friends with.

After the school got used to your presence, the bullies started to present themselves. Not afraid of you anymore, they started picking on you, for even the smallest detail. To say that they made your time there miserable would be an understatement. You still finished your first year on a good note. Your aunt and you have become close and you finally had some friends with whom you would meet with during the summer.

The next year started off, as the last closed. At the first day the others already left because they got less hours than you. This was when the bullies showed up. Your impulsiveness led you to a fight with them. Two of their group ended up in the infirmary with bruises and stiches, and you in the principal's office, with a warning. When your aunt picked you up, she was angry but the moment you were in the car, her face lightened up and asked you all about the fight. At first you were confused, but then started to talk about what happened with more and more enthusiasm. She listened to every last detail you told her, with pride on her face.

"Next time, maybe don't hold back." She said with a wide grin.

"There won't be a next time, for a long time if I assume right." You answered.

At night, you all gathered at Tara's place. When they saw your black eye, and the stich on your cheek, their jaws dropped. Then, you were hit with a wave of questions on your well being, the state of the "other guy" and whom the fight happened with. You told the story all over again, with a bit more detail than you actually remembered. As you were talking Chad encouragingly patted your shoulders, and commented on your technique, like he was some kind of professional. Tara's face lit up when you got to the part where you got your scars. You didn't take it as something important until after the party, in your bed thinking about her. Realization hit you, that you like her. The way she moved around, the way she made everyone laugh and that she always was nice. Oh, you liked her very much.

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That night, in your dream, it came back. You were standing in front of each other. It spoke to you, but you didn't listen. Even if you tried to take in what it was saying, you couldn't understand it. Then it took out Ghostfaces' mask from behind it's back, and placed it on its head. As it approached you, you froze down. Couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't talk. When it reached you, it tilted its head, and you woke up. You tried to calm down, as your thoughts were racing. It was back. Was it back? 'Please. Somebody save me' you thought.

The next weeks were normal. You haven't heard its voice, or felt its influence. As the days were passing, you shook it of like it was a nightmare, even though you were most certain, that it wasn't one.

Just as you thought, the bullies didn't come back for a long time. During the 'Time of Peace', as you called it you managed to get to know your friends more, especially Tara. It was like having a new family. You guys would always go to one's house to hold small get-togethers and parties. Everybody was nice and smooth, but your eyes were always set on her.

You two got together really well. You both liked horror movies, and would go on to watch them all together. Like yours, her favourite movie series was Stab too. One time around the end of the year, you managed to prank call her, and she quickly got into the game. You left your voice changer at home, so you tried your best at hiding your own voice, failing miserably. You sneaked in through the back door and got into her house. As she was heading into the kitchen, you jumped her. She did definitely not expect you to be in her house.

She gripped you tightly as she calmed down quickly. Her touch made you have goosebumps. You never saw her scared, and were proud of yourself. She looked cute.

"Fuck!" she breathed out finally. "Y/N!"

"At your service."

"What are you doing here?!"

"Well, the plan was to sneak in, scare your gorgeous ass. Then maybe, just maybe, watch something together" you admitted. "First half worked out pretty well if I dare say so myself."

"Okay than Mrs. jumpscare. Take your shoes off. I just finished cleaning. After that, we may discuss having movie night." She looked at you through her smile. After a second, she watched you curiously and raised an elbow. That’s when it hit you how close you were. She was still in your arms so you quickly let go and did as you were told. You were trying your best to hide your blush but the way she looked at you made it pretty clear, that it didn't work.

You settled down on her couch, patiently waiting for her to make the popcorn. When she got to the living room, you slowly pulled out an ancient dvd holder of your bag. You shot her a grin as you saw her mouth drop.

"No fuckin' way where did you get this?!" she shouted in excitement. She took the holder out of your hand and started analysing it. It was the original Stab movie's director's cut.

"Did a little digging in the attic." You shrugged.

"You're kidding me."

"Indeed I am. I needed to pay off the guy in the dvd renter so that he lets me to the backside of his place. I found this piece of art there."

She bit her lips in excitement as she looked at you, her beautiful eyes full of wonder. You nodded to her, so she would open it and place the dvd in the player. As it started playing, she sat beside you. Too close, for your body not to act up. You could only hope that the couch didn't vibrate from your heartbeat.

Even though you have already seen the scenes that were cut from the film on the internet, you eagerly waited for every one of them. When one would come up, you sat straighter. Yet, you couldn't pay attention to them because every time you sat up, Tara grabbed your hand, like she was afraid you would go away.

This made it impossible for you to look at the television. Your vision was filled with her, the way the lights reflected back from her beautiful eyes, the way her smile could melt any matter on the world and the way she looked up at you time to time. This was one of those moments. Your eyes met and you felt like you could gaze into hers for the rest of your life. Her eyes went to your lips, then back again. You did the same, whilst leaning just a tiny bit closer to her. She was the one to close the distance. You felt in heaven as your lips crashed together, the salty taste filling your every sense. Your eyes shut close as you pulled her into you. She was addicting, and would be the death of you. Somehow that idea just made her even more appealing. She separated herself from you, to take in a quick breath, then she was back onto you, her jaws biting your bottom lip ferociously.

She pulled away again, worry in her eyes from her own action. You already missed her presence on your lips. You chased after her kissing her the same way she did you. You sank onto her, grabbing her thighs as you pushed her down to the couch. You can't tell how much time you spent there, just making out. The only thing that stopped you was a sudden scream. You quickly looked up not really understanding where it came from. Her giggles made you realize, that it came from the movie. It was as if the outer world completely disappeared to you. The film was about to end, and the real stabbing began in it.

"Do you know how long you've kept me waiting for this?" you asked her, when your senses became clear again. You still couldn't believe what just happened.

"I actually do." she said with a smirk. "You aren't really good at hiding your feelings dear."

"Yes. I get that a lot."

She smiled at you, somehow being even more gorgeous than before, than snuggled up to your side, to finish the movie. You put a hand around her and played with her hair, as you finally calmed down. After the film, the two of you would have a long night ahead of you.

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From that point, you two were always found together. She didn't want to hide you, which made you even more confident. Days, weeks and months passed but nothing made you feel as complete as her. Well, almost complete. You still didn't feel quite right, but you couldn't put your finger around it.

As your third year began, you both found some new activities for yourselves. You signed up for drum classes, and she to a new art group. You knew she loved to draw, and this only made her already good style into something that you could only describe as "high art". One day, you went to her place only to find it empty. As you killed time, you found one of her old sketchbooks. Your eyes widened, when you realized more than half of them were you. Wait, were you really that beautiful in her eyes? When she got home, you couldn't stop teasing her with it, as you also complimented her work.

"Stop it!"

"Only if you draw me right now, so that I can see how well my gorgeous can draw!" you said with a wide grin.

She blushed at the comment. With a bit more of your nagging, she finally gave in. As she drew you, she started speaking about her peers at the art group. She kept mentioning a boy named Kent, whom she really got close with. A hint of jealousy hit your stomach as you listened to her.

"He helped me improve my line work." She was always rambling about something when she was focusing. It's one of the things you loved about her. Whenever she was cooking, which she was also a goddess at, she would always talk about her day, or something that was on her mind. "He is also the best student of his class."

"Well, he sounds like a nerd."

Tara's hand stopped and her mouth dropped open a little. "Is someone jealous?"

"No…" you huffed out immediately.

"Riiiiiight." she teased and returned to drawing.

In minutes, you already hated this Kent. Tara rented about him for a few more minutes, only because she loved your reaction. You hated every minute of it. Anger coiling in you, eating you up from the inside. A really familiar feeling, but you couldn't quite remember when you've felt like this. Then it hit you. Just a moment later, it, also hit you.

"You know what to do…"

You froze down in shock. Terror showed on your face, and Tara immediately stopped, watching you worriedly. 'No, no, no, no… It can't… Why…' you felt like your mind stopped working. Everything felt cold and hot at the same time, your clothes too tight, you couldn't breathe. Tara stepped to you, saying something, but you couldn't hear it. Then she gripped your shoulders and shook you up a bit.

"Look at me!" she spoke, her words finally hitting your ear. "Y/N!" you obliged. "What's the matter? It was just a joke. Nothing serious…" she hugged you softly.

"N- No it wasn't that…"

"Then what was it?"

You couldn't tell her. You wanted to run away, to curl up in a corner and hide the world from yourself. Her eyes wouldn't let you. So you did the second best thing that came to your mind. You lied.

"La- lately I have started having panic attacks. They are tied to what happened with me in my childhood." 'Idiot!' you thought.

"Mhm, how can I help?"

"This does…" you said eyeing her closeness. She held you even tighter now, calming you down.

You don't know how long you've been standing in her arms, but after a while you slowly pulled away to kiss her. "How's the drawing going?"

She smiled at you. "Ready for you to judge babe." she said, taking her sketchbook from the couch, showing you the newly drawn masterpiece. You were truly amazed by it.

"I can't decide why it looks so good. Because it is about me, or because you were the one to draw it." you teased.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next days were torture. It came back indefinitely. It overtook your image in your reflections once again. It spoke to you in the most inconvenient of times. It tried to influence you again. And it fuelled your hatred of Kent.

You always saw him around Tara, either you were, or weren't with her. He was like a little puppy, eagerly following her around. He definitely had a crush on her. This made you mad and insecure. It was like there was a knife, twisting in your stomach. The Voice only made it worse. Somehow it succeeded at making you not think of Kent as a human, but as a threat. As a predator, who was circling around something, that was yours. This made your nights restless and your days infuriating.

"We need to keep her safe." it spoke to you, as you were drying your hair.

"I need to keep her safe, yes. Stop using the royal we please."

"There is not one, without the other. I am a part of you and you can't even fuckin' deny it."

"I can, and I do. Can I dry my hair now?"

"I see your dreams as well as you do. I know you've been dreaming about it. Let us cut him up!"

You didn't answer him.

"Oh, it would be a site to see. The bloodied mess of his open stomach. I bet his screams would be just as beautiful as your dreams show. What sweet nightmare we can bring to life if we pay him a visit! Picture Tara! See as he touches her, as he holds her!" you couldn't cut the pictures out of your head. You were furious, full of hatred and jealousy. It took your thoughts over. No. You took your own thoughts over. "Now picture him dead."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night you put on the mask. You didn't need to go far for it, as it was tucked away in your closet. The robes and the knife too. Originally you only wanted to buy a fake knife, but to your aunt's advice, you bought a real one. What a great decision that was.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection didn't behave differently from you. You pulled the mask down, and smiled at yourself. It was you all along.

You started the engine of your aunts' car. She was away on a business trip, and left the car for your use at home. You couldn't be more thankful for her, that she thought you how to drive at summer. Kent was living at the other half of Woodsboro, and you didn't want unwilling eyes to see you.

You stopped two blocks away from his house. You put your mask on, and taped the voice changer to your neck. You got out of the car and quickly made your way to the backyard of his house. Light shined out of the building. Only one shutter wasn't pulled down, and it was on the second floor of the house. 'Fuckin' prick too. Oh this really will be fun!'

You pulled your phone out and rang the number of the houses' line phone. While still at home, you searched it out of the phone book, your aunt was still keeping at home. It rang for a while, before someone finally picked it up.

"Hello?" you heard his voice from the line, uncertain.

"Hello there Kent." you said, voice changer turned on.

"Who am I speaking to?"

You chuckled. "Soon, you'll discover. Tell me! Would you like to play a game?"

He didn't answer right away, as if he was talking to someone. Were his parents not out of town? "Well, I'm kind of in the middle of one, so I would say no…"

You looked in through a small gap at one of the shutters. "I think this game is more fun than Monopoly…" you said with a grin under your mask.

"How do you know what we're playing?"

"Don't you know not to ask this question?" oh, he was clueless. Sweet sweet ignorance.

Now, a familiar voice came to the phone. "Hello sweet prank caller! Could you please let my friend go now? He needs to step in my hotel!"

You recognized her. What was Tara doing here? Your mind went through the possible causes, then you remembered. She invited you too for game night, but you backed out of the offer. 'Fuck. Well, can't back off now can I?'

"No I cannot Tara Carpenter. I have some unfinished business with the gentleman."

You saw the shock that settled on her face through the gap. It didn't please you even in the least amount. Then she looked up at Kent and cut the line. Both of them are going to start searching for you know. The others already left. Mindy and Chad left with Liv, because she needed her private time with Chad, and Mindy didn't have a car of her own. Wes had a tight deadline to head home because of her mother. Amber called sick for the week. The only ones staying the longest were always you and Tara. You didn't know about Kents' friends, but you didn't see more people than two.

You climbed up at the eaves of the house to the window, where your only entrance lied. You opened it with your knife, and climbed in without a sound. You called again.

"So, I bet you are dying to hang on the line now!"

"You talked about a game… If I play, you leave us alone… Right?"

Obviously Tara wasn't near him. She would have given him such a smack, that his screams would've echoed up the stairs. Oh what wouldn't you give to hear that sound.

"Precisely! Now you are getting it. I ask, you answer. A wrong answer means five more stabs! Do I have your undivided attention?"

You heard his gulp through the phone. "Yes."

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

"There is no good answer to this!"

"Wrong… You are living in Woodsboro. There can only be one good answer. Stab. But since this would be an unfair game, I will give you some fair questions, so you have a chance." You played with your knife in hand, waiting for his response.

"Okay…"

"Tell me Kent. What were you and Tara talking about when you took her hand, and drag her to class?"

"How…"

"I think at this point you really should know better than to ask back boy."

Little pause. "We were talking about her girlfriend. I was saying she was too possessive of her and she started a fight with me.

"Very good! Two more questions to go." you said as you sneaked down the stairs. "I'm going to make this harder for you. Who is the man behind the mask in the original Stab?"

"Lemme think!"

"Tick tack Kent!" you said after ten seconds. "If you don't answer, Tara might be in trouble. And you wouldn't dare risk her pretty shirt getting all bloody would you now?

"If you dare touch her!"

"I would be more interested in your wellbeing at the moment, if I were you. Answer!"

"I- I don't know!"

"Wroooong again… You disappoint me young man. I know for a fact Tara has told you about this, since she tells everyone about them.  The right answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher." you were in the living room now, sanding not far and behind him. "Last question, and this better be right! Do you think, I could have made it into your house, through the window that was wide open on your second floor?"

His head shot back, fear in his eyes. It was more beautiful then you ever imagined. You theatrically hung up the phone, then waved at him with the knife.

"TARA RUN!" He yelled out, as he too, started to run towards the front door. You took your time chasing him. Before you called first, you barricaded the front door. Nobody could leave that way.

He was banging on the door terror in his eyes as you walked slowly closer. "What's your answer Kenty boy?"

"Fuck you!"

"I'm afraid that I can't take that as the right answer…" you said tsking, then you started running at him hand and knife raised. He tried to duck away, but you predicted it and ran your blade through his side. It felt so good! The warmth of his blood that soaked your hand, the scream of pain he let out. It was liberating. "One!" you shivered out, euphoria taking over your body.

You pulled the knife out of his stomach, then kicked him to the ground. He desperately tried to defend himself, failing miserably in it. As you climbed him, he hit your ribs, and tried to pull of your mask. Each attempt he made, you rewarded it with a stab. His blood spilled on your mask, bloodying it. You couldn't contain the laugh that escaped your mouth. You counted the stabs, making sure to reach the target. Blood spilled from his mouth as he writhed under you. Your own blood was pumping in your ear, making you numb. You almost didn't hear the scream that echoed through the house. Your head snapped back up, searching for its source. Even though you didn't want to believe it, you would have recognized that voice from anywhere. Tara was in trouble.

You stood up, kicking his now lifeless body in the process. Then marched your way to where you heard her. As you entered the kitchen, you froze down from confusion. Tara was on the ground, sticking a kitchen knife in someone's neck, whom you saw with Kent two times before. 'So there was a third wheel…' You watched as she took the life of the boy, only looking up at you after she was done, smile on her face. That bloodied smile made you melt. This was a completely new side of her, that you never saw before. The insanity in her eyes was burning, her perfect white teeth shown to you.

"What took you so long?" she asked still smiling, getting closer to you.

"What do you mean?" you asked back. Your voice changer didn't work anymore. Kent probably ruined it.

When she reached you, she took your mask of and kissed you immediately, all softness gone from her. She bit your tongue and pulled you into her smaller body. You were so turned on from her, and you knew she felt it.

"You mean, you wanted me to get to him?" you asked, as you pulled away for a moment.

"We both wanted you to get to him. Our first night together, remember? The Voice in you, overtook you, and made me feel better than ever." she said, as she started undressing you, pulling you upstairs. "Afterwards, we talked freely. You told me everything about your past, so I told you everything too. I told you, how I feel my anger build up until I can't control it. I told you about my first victim, and you devoured me for it! So in return, I decided to help free yourself." she took half a step back looking at you with wild, heart eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." you said instantly. As her lips crashed on yours, you could only think about you being finally complete. Complete with her, complete with yourself. You picked her up, and carried her upstairs. You dropped her onto the bed, and climbed after her. You were finally free. She liberated you, and you would dedicate your whole life to showing her how grateful you were for that.

#tara x reader #scream fanfic #scream #jenna ortega #fanfiction #my stuff #ghostface!tara #ghostface!reader #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!taracarpenter #first fanfic

[lestappenforever]

For the print: 41. “Is that my shirt?” “Is… is that okay?”

Lestappen sharing clothes is one of my favourite things 😍

I was hoping for this one! Thank you. 🥰

Also, throwing in a bonus 50. "Kiss me like you mean it." "With pleasure." for you.

---

41. “Is that my shirt?” “Is… is that okay?” and 50. "Kiss me like you mean it." "With pleasure."

Look, it wasn't as if Max had planned this, okay? Any of it. It just happened.

He'd been on one of his typical late night grocery shopping runs, because he could not for the life of him plan to do it at a more reasonable time of day, or when the store wasn't 10 minutes from closing.

He'd also decided to walk to the store because he'd had a couple of beers and he wasn't about to risk his livelihood for a five minute drive.

The cashier — a woman in her fifties named Stella, who has checked Max out numerous times in the past and has long since stopped caring about him being a Formula 1 World Champion and his attempts at being charming — rolls her eyes dramatically at him as he apologizes for once again being there last minute.

"Every time you say this, and every time you come in at this time, Max," she tells him, not at all amused.

(If he's being perfectly honest, Max doesn't think she's been amused once in her life.)

The disappointment in her eyes could rival that of his mother whenever Max had done something she didn't like growing up, which is unsettling. It makes Max feel like a little kid waiting for a scolding.

Completing his purchase, Max apologizes profusely once more to Stella on his way out.

As he exits the store, somebody practically barrels into him from the side.

"Shit," Max mutters, regaining his footing and turning to face the stranger who apparently has no disregard for anyone's safety or well-being, anger already building in his chest.

But the stranger turns out to be none other than Charles Leclerc, apparently out on a late-night run if his sweaty forehead and running attire is anything to go by.

And, well, Max's anger drains from him as quickly as it had appeared, because there is no way in hell he can stay angry at Charles.

Especially not a sweaty Charles, which is a sight that's doing all sorts of things to Max's mind and body.

"Merde, désolé," Charles tells him, taking a step back and finally looking up at Max's face. "Max?"

Max doesn't really think that question warrants an answer, given how Charles is clearly not blind.

"I'm sorry," he repeats in English, and his cheeks redden even further, which Max assumes isn't from the physical exertion of running.

"It's fine," Max says, waving the hand that isn't holding the grocery bag dismissively.

Charles glances at the bag in his hand, at the watch on his wrist, then at the large sign on the store front behind Max announcing their opening hours, raising an eyebrow.

"The employees must love you," he says teasingly, a small smirk on his face.

Max rolls his eyes at him.

"Yeah, they all light up with glee when I come in," Max replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

It draws a laugh from Charles, which is a beautiful sound. Max kind of wishes he could bottle it.

Suddenly, there's a flash in the sky followed by a loud crack of thunder, making Charles jump and Max look up to see ominously dark clouds having gathered in the sky.

And then the clouds unleash hell — or ridiculously heavy rain — on Monaco.

"Fuck!" Charles hisses, and Max doesn't need to ask why because he knows Charles lives on the other side of town and that he was nowhere near being done with his run.

Before he can think better of it, Max grabs Charles' hand.

"Come on," he says, not giving Charles the chance to argue or question as he tugs the Monégasque right along with him as he sets off running in the direction of his own home.

Charles goes willingly.

---

By the time they make it into Max's apartment, they're both soaked to the core, and Charles' grey t-shirt is clinging to his body like a second layer of skin.

It's making Max want to do all sorts of unseemly things to him, so he promptly looks away.

"You can use the shower in the master bathroom. There's a pretty efficient drying rack in there," Max tells him, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his bedroom.

Charles has been to his place before and even if he doesn't remember the entire layout of the apartment, Max has a feeling he'll figure it out.

"Thanks," Charles tells him, apparently not needing to be told twice as he disappears down the hall.

Max, for his part, goes to the guest bathroom where he strips out of his wet clothes and takes a quick shower, just to keep his core temperature from dropping too low. Once he's clean and dry, he grabs a clean pair of soft sweats and a Red Bull t-shirt from the dryer in the bathroom, and tosses his soaked clothes into the washing machine. He was going to put on a load tomorrow morning anyway, so might as well do it now.

He's in the kitchen, finishing up on unloading the groceries, when Charles comes padding into the kitchen behind him.

"Do you want tea?" Max asks without turning to look at him.

"Yes please," Charles answers without hesitation.

Max puts the water on, and when he finally does turn to face the other man, he sees that Charles has hoisted himself up to sit on the kitchen island instead of sitting in an actual chair, like a normal person.

His hair is still damp and Charles is wearing his running shorts that now appear to be fully dry, thanks to the heated drying rack and the quick-drying fabric of the shorts. He's also wearing an awfully familiar-looking black hoodie that doesn't fit him properly over the shoulders.

Max has to blink a couple of times to make sure he's not seeing things.

"Is that my shirt?"

Charles glances down at himself. When he looks back up to meet Max's gaze, his cheeks are flushed.

"Is... Is that okay?" He asks, voice soft and uncertain and small.

He sounds and looks so fucking cute that Max might actually implode on the spot.

"My t-shirt doesn't dry as quickly as my shorts and I was cold, and I had a feeling you didn't need me walking around shirtles and —,"

Max doesn't let him finish, because before he even realizes he's moving, he's crossed the kitchen and situated himself right between Charles' legs, hands curled in the fabric of the hoodie, lips pressed against the Monégasque's.

Charles flails a little and makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but when he recovers, he returns the kiss. It's a closed-mouthed kiss — nothing but a firm press of lips, really — but it's still the best kiss either man has ever had.

When he pulls back a small eternity later, Charles' lips are a little puffy and red and his eyes are unfocused.

Max finds himself thinking that he's never seen anyone or anything as beautiful.

"Yes, Charles. That's okay," the Red Bull driver says with a smile, finally answering Charles' question.

Charles smiles back, all dimples and bright eyes and sunshine.

It makes Max's heart leap.

"Good," Charles tells him, hands coming up to tangle in Max's hair, tugging ever so slightly. "Now kiss me like you mean it."

It's not a question, it's a command.

"With pleasure," Max says, and that's exactly what he does.

#Prompts #Lestappen prompt #Lestappen #Lestappen fic #Lestappen drabble

[heartsoji]

kenma + cuddles + stormy weather + only one bed

a/n: writing more comfort for myself bc there have been too many thunderstorms i hate this someone move me to antartica with the penguins and no thunder ALSO sorry if the grammar is wrong or smth i didn't proofread lol

you sighed.

"this sucks."

kuroo, the outdoorsy one of the group, decided that it would be fun to go camping. however, knowing that the two of you preferred the indoors and hated bugs, he decided to rent a cabin. (which was actually kinda sweet and considerate gj kuroo)

however, he made a little misclick and accidentally ordered a cabin with one bed. for the three of you.

so he called up the owners of the cabin and asked if they had any futons or anything, to which they told him to go buy himself a bed or a futon lol

so kuroo, being the prideful idiot he is, decided to drive AN HOUR AND A HALF back to civilization to buy 2 WHOLE ASS BEDS when it was 1am (nvm kuroo ur an idiot)

now, the two of you were stuck in a tiny little cabin that kuroo was going to jam TWO WHOLE BEDS in

tbh at this point u were ready to just SLEEP and kenma was literally melting onto the floor

buuuut there was only one bed and the two of you were too scared to sleep on it bc ur both v observant people and noticed that the other looked dead

so after these like rly awkward 15 minutes where there was no talking and no sound, you both sat on the couch (that literally felt like cardboard wtf kuroo) and you watched kenma play games on his game boy bc there was NO SERVICE and also you genuinely enjoy watching him play games bc he has the CUTEST EXPRESSIONS when he plays games

however, at some point, it started raining and you two got a text from kuroo

from 'rooster' to you and 'kenma':

The rain back here is rly bad so I have to wait it out. Be back tmrw :)

the two of you decided to suck it up after joking around and insulting him for a good 5 minutes (were ugs rly joking ?) and grabbed a blanket and sat back down on the cardboard couch.

you liked the rain. it was nice that there was more sound in the cabin that just the sound of buttons being rapidly pressed.

however, at some point, the rain turned into a thunderstorm.

you were terrified, to say the least. thunder has always been one of your absolute worst fears.

however, you didn't want to make a scene. especially not in front of your crush.

but ofc kenma being the observant man he is, noticed that you were gripping onto his shoulder a little tighter, and that you slightly tensed up whenever the thunder in the background roared. (for context you were holding onto his shoulder to see his game)

when he eventually came to the conclusion that you were terrified of thunder, he wasn't really sure what to do. comfort you? turn off his game? have you go to sleep? play some music? like what was he supposed to do

lucky for him, you figure out what he has to do for him. when a particularly loud and boomy thunder (they're all loud and boomy but this one was VERY loud and boomy) roars, you instinctively curl yourself close to him, eyes shut in terror.

he knows what to do now.

he turns off his game boy, sets it aside, and gently holds you close as he rubs your back.

"it's ok." he whispers soothingly. "it's all ok."

you're veryslightly embarrassed by the fact that you're literally curled up with your crush right now, but you don't really have time to think about the embarrassment with the thunder in the background

however, he provides you the sweetest comfort (contrary to my thunder comfort hcs lmao) and just wordlessly rubs your back and runs his fingers through your hair (bc he knows how good it feels lol)

his comfort is so nice that you end up falling asleep curled into him.

after your breathing steadies and he knows you're asleep, he lets his emotions show a bit more. the stupid smile that he's been biting back unleashes itself and finds its way onto his features. he gazes down at your sleeping figure, all curled up and snuggling into his chest, and feels his cheeks heat up a little. he lets himself drift of to sleep too.

you both end up waking up bc the couch is hard as cardboard about an hour later. he sighs and offers you the bed but you refuse immediately. the couch was uncomfortable af, the floor was worse and you were not about to let him sleep on it.

however, the same went for him. it would appear that both of you were incredibly stubborn.

kenma was the one to propose the "how about we both sleep on the bed? it's a queen so there'll be enough room.."

he may look calm and cool as ever when saying this, but if you look at his ears, they're bright red.

you nervously agree, and the two of you slowly climb into the bed.

the bed wasn't super comfortable, but it was much better than the couch. you slowly drift off to sleep.

you and kenma were both woken up at the same time by a rooster (not kuroo, an actual rooster) cock-a-doodle-doo-ing. when you opened your eyes, you were met with kenma's face about two inches from yours.

"AH!" you both screamed and tried to jump away, but couldn't. you looked down and realized that the two of you had intertwined legs and hands at night in your sleep.

to say the least, you were embarrassed. you could feel your cheeks burning up, and you saw kenma's ears turn bright red.

"uhm.." kenma started. "i.."

"I'M BACK!! D'YA MISS ME?" kuroo (the actual one, not his twin who woke u up)

you both whipped ur heads around and tried to untangle yourselves before he saw, but it was too late.

"oya?" (I NEVER PUT ANYTHING DOWN IN JAPANESE BUT IT JUST FELT SO APPROPRIATE) he had the biggest smirk on his face.

"ding a ling ling! whoa look at that i have a call be right back~!"

that cheeky brat.

"so, um, kenma.." you started, not really knowing what to say.

he cut you off. "how about we have this conversation after the trip is over?"

"yeah. lets do that."

the rest of the trip was actually decently fun, especially knowing that your crush liked you back and that you could look forward to that conversation after it was over. and as much as you hated to admit it, it was all thanks to kuroo and his idiotic brain.

#kenma fluff #kenma comfort #kenma kozume x reader #kenma #hq kenma #kenma x reader #kenma drabble #kenma drabbles #kenma x you #kenma scenario #kenma scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu kenma #hq fluff #hq x reader #kuroo #is it obvious that i was tired and didn't feel like writing a good ending