#but in a completely different way than usual

[imwetforyourmom]

not her

pt4

warnings: swearing, smut, kissing, fingering, teasing, mouth covering (idfk), backshots/doggy (guys whats the difference??), slight praising, overthinking ig (?), js smut bc this chap was alr rllyyyy long and next chap will have everything (drama and other things I cant remeber)

taglist

a/n: i am sorry guys

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ~~~ NEXT CHAPTER

~

“please fuck me, matt, please”

that exact day, when matt left the janitors closet he left school entirely, how was he supposed to still attend school after breaking up with his girlfriend? he wasnt even sure if she was going to stay at school, but he’d rather go home then stay and see her at lunch and free periods.

he opened his bedroom door and shut it behind himself, locking the door and walking to his bed.

he collapsed onto it, finding the mattress to be a comfort for him, like the hug he needed.

of course he still felt horrible for breaking up with his girlfriend, she was his girlfriend. despite the fact he hung out with amelia more than her, he just didnt understand why y/n had to make it such a big deal that he had a girl friend and wanted to hang out with her. she just had to be so clingy, and absolutely destroy their relatonship.

what broke him more was that she was still clingy even after she went and kissed other men, more than once. she still wanted to hang out with him even after she offered herself up for other men. he wasnt sure if that was a good thing or not, but what truly mattered was that she cheated, and still had the audacity to want him.

it doesn’t matter, he told himself. you have amelia, he reminded himself. a small grin fighting its way onto his face at the thought of her, completely forgetting about y/n.

he knew he could trust amelia not to go to some other men and replace him so easily.

he knew amelia actually liked him for him.

~

matt laid in his bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. his bed felt cold and empty, not how it usually did on the weekends. the blankets under his body didnt provide any warmth, it only laid under him with a presence, not living up to its purpose.

the pillow rested under his head didnt feel comfortable, his pillow was stiff and uncomfortable under his head, not sinking into the form of his head and providing a comfortable rest like it normally did, the usually soft fabric was now itchy against him. all it did was lay, lay and lay only, no comfort whatsoever.

the hug of his mattress didnt sink in when he rested in it, it stayed stiff and flat. not providing a soothe of peace to the ache in his muscles. it felt cold and empty—even with him in it.

normally his bed was a comforting and a safe haven, he didnt understand why it wasnt the same now, what changed?

he laid uncomfortably on his bed, before he realized something.

normally y/n would sleepover on the weekends, and now that they werent together anymore.. he was alone, and he wasnt used to it, speaking of how they were together for two years and she’d been doing it almost every weekend.

he told himself, it wasnt that he missed y/n, he missed feeling another person in his bed with him.

before he could double think it, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and tapped messages, pressing amelia’s contact and typing out a message.

‘hey!! did you want to come over tonight?’

~

there she stood, in his bedroom, beside him with tiny little pj’s on—which, she’d done on purpose.

she purposefully put on a pair of short shorts, ones that just barely showed the bottom of her ass, but, if she were to bend over, it’d be a whole different story.

amelia made sure that when she walked to take a seat onto matts bed, that she’d sway her hips just a teensy bit to tease him, and of course, to flaunt her ass to him, like I said, tease him.

she took a seat and pulled her legs into criss cross applesauce, her shorts exposing her inner thighs, matt found himself staring with absolutely no hesitation, curious on what was further past her shorts. her shirt did not help at all, he only wanted to tear off her slightly too tight shirt, showing her perky tits perfectly.

he cleared his throat, already feeling himself go semi-hard, he laid onto the bed next to her, crossing his legs and sticking his hand into his pocket and fisting his hand, attempting to make his pants a little looser around his cock, hiding his forming boner.

he looked over at her, patting the spot next to him with a warm smile on his face.

“wanna watch something?” he asked, watching as she very confidently crawled over to him and laid down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder with a hum.

“sure! I have a movie in mind—well, movies, its a movie series,” amelia looked up at him, her face a little too close to his face.

“its called after.” she grabbed the tv remote resting in matts hand, over his lap. with grabbing it, she purposefully touched his dick with pressure, immediately matts body had a reaction, a grunt leaving his throat and his dick going fully hard.

“are you okay?” amelia asked, her nose scrunched with confusion, fake confusion, anything to get matt to believe it was an accident.

“y- yeah..” he took in a breath, calming his composure “just turn the movie on.” he closed his eyes momentarily, trying to think of the grossest things on planet earth to subside his boner and the touch that definitely didn’t help.

he opened his eyes again, seeing that amelia had already turned on the movie and was getting comfy in her spot, shifting her body over some and pressing her back into matt’s side, laying her head more comfortably in his shoulder.

amelia knew what this movie consisted of, that’s why she turned it on, it was apart of her plan, her plan being

1. come over in small pjs

2. tease and touch him

3. turn on a sex movie

4. make more teasing touches and fuck him, or, more preferably have him fuck her into oblivion.

and now, all she’d had to do was fuck him, which, wouldn’t be so hard, he’s already rock hard and drinking in the sight of her revealed skin, her revealed skin so close to the places he desired.

not too long later.. a sex scene popped up, and amelia could feel the heat radiating from matt’s body, she could see his previously softening dick go rock hard so easily again so fast, he looked like an inexperienced horny, teenage boy.

matt’s focus hadn’t been on the movie, not once, not even the second she turned it on. all he could think about was the sight of amelia’s thighs, they looked fucking devourable. he wanted her thighs wrapped around his head. all he could think about was her body and how much he wanted to kiss and suck all over it, her body was mesmerizing. all he wanted was it, he wanted to fuck her so badly, his eyes were on the tv, but mind on her body.

when he heard soft moans and grunts from the tv, his focus immediately snapped to it, his eyes darting around it and taking everything in.

amelia chuckled, “oops, didn’t know this was gonna be in here.” she mumbled.

matt shook his head, “yes you did, you fucking whore.” his voice was low, grabbing her waist and flipping them over, he was on top of her now, staring into her eyes with a lustful look in them, the blue completely gone and replaced with black. he dipped his head down, connecting their lips with a slow but passionate kiss full of tongue.

that’s what amelia wished matt had done when she said that, but he didn’t, only, his breathing went erotic and his hand slipped to her thigh, holding the one closest to him and his grip tightening ever so slightly.

amelia, purposelly, whimpered.

and that was the last straw for matt. he moved his hand from her thigh and turned his head to her, cupping her cheek, forcefully turning her head to his and attaching their lips in a needy and desperate kiss.

matt moved to pinning amelia to the bed, his own body ontop of hers, his one hand keeping her hip pinned to the bed with a tight force while his other hand slowly traveled from the ball of her jaw to her throat, holding it and ever so slightly, tightening his hold every few seconds.

he pushed his tongue between her lips, forcefully shoving his tongue into her mouth, exploring every inch of her mouth with a passion burning in his stomach.

he used his knee to spread her legs and situate his hips between her legs, grinding his crotch into hers, earning a high pitched moan from amelia.

amelia wrapped her legs around matts waist, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth before she pulled away, “please fuck me, matt, please” she begged, arching her back off the bed.

matt dipped his head down into amelias neck, pressing wet and sloppy kisses all across it, stopping every few moments to suck a deep mark into the senstive skin.

“hang on baby, be patient f’me” he mumbled against her skin, biting lightly onto one of the marks, definitely leaving a deep purple mark for later.

he rubbed her hips before trailing his hand down to her shorts, slipping his hand into her panties and rubbing circles onto her clit, eliciting a moan from amelia.

“matt-“ amelia moaned, rolling her eyes back as his fingers slid to her entrance, slicking it in her wetness before slowly dipping his finger into her entrance, amelia could feel a smirk forming on his lips from them pressing against her throat.

he slid the rest of his finger inside of her, earning a shriek and a loud moan from her, his free hand covered her mouth, whispering against her throat “quiet amelia, we dont want my brothers hearing you, do we?”

he pumped his finger continuously before adding another finger, hearing a muffled sound from amelias mouth, lifting his head from her neck to look at her, the sight only adding onto his ego, her eyes rolled back, her normally pink cheeks a dark red and her orange hair on its way to becoming messy.

he curled his fingers, hitting her g-spot effortlessly, another loud, muffled moan slid from amelia’s throat.

a knot formed in amelias lower abdomen, tightening with every pump and curl of matts fingers.

“‘m close, matty!” she whined from his hand, arching her back, she clenched around his fingers. pushing her hips downwards in an attempt to god-knows-what.

matts thumb curved up and rubbed circles on her clit, reaching her higher to her climax.

he thrusted his finger out once more, before thrusting back in and biting harshly down onto her throat, causing amelia to cum on his fingers with a loud and thankfully muffled moan.

“mmm, good girl” matt praised, pulling his fingers out from amelia and bringing them up to his lips, licking them clean before going back to amelia’s shorts, pulling them off by the hem, then pulling his own sweatpants and boxers down quickly.

he grabbed amelia’s hips, flipping her over onto her belly, “get on your hands and knees” he mumbled, rubbing her back with one hand while his other was at the base of his cock, jacking himself off to ease the throbbing pain.

amelia obligated, pulling her weak legs to be propped on their knees and her palms down, holding herself up, waiting in anticipation for matt to stuff her full.

matt ran his tip through her folds, collecting her wetness before guiding it to her entrance, sliding in slowly, attempting to ease the small burning sensation amelia was most likely experincing, the earlier stretch of his fingers doing nothing.

once bottomed out, matt groaned, grabbing both her hips to ensure she would stay in place and to stabilize himself.

he pulled almost all the way out, before slamming back in, giving amelia no mercy at all.

he continously slammed his hips in and out of her, creating a rough pace that made him feel good—hes not sure he was exactly focusing on amelia’s pleasure.

he wasnt stupid, he knew why he turned amelia around, hes really only ever seeked sex with y/n, and now that she wasnt the one he was fucking, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. he didnt want to look in amelia’s eyes and find that they arent y/ns. he’d only want to see y/ns in such a vulnerable moment.

only to feel her in such a vulnerable moment, but he didnt have her so he had to improvise.

thats why he really wasnt sure if he cared if amelia was feeling good, a part of him knew he really only cared if he made y/n feel good.

he shook his head, ridding the thoughts of y/n, hes balls deep in amelia, thinking about his ex-girlfriend is not the time.

he fucked into amelia’s cunt again, the pleasure sub-siding as his thoughts began to overbear it all.

what if amelia was a mistake?

what if amelia thinks after this hookup, they’re together?

what if he regrets breaking up with her for the rest of his life?

what if, when he realizes how much y/n actually was apart of him, its too late to go back?

what if he still loves y/n? he still does, he just hasnt realized it himself yet

what if he’ll never forgive himself for fucking amelia and ditching y/n for a random redhead?

oh my god. he ditched the love of his life for some random ass redhead.

his breathing began to go unsteady, but not because of his thrusting, but because of his overriding thoughts.

it took everything in him to stop the thoughts and keep them low, trying to focus on the main point here. cumming and cumming only, not to think about his ex girlfriend.

why would he even want to think about his girlfriend? she cheated on him and was a needy ass clingy bitch.

it physically pained him to think that last part, y/n wasnt a ‘needy ass clingy bitch’ and he knew it. he knew y/n only wanted his love and attention and she wasnt receiveing it, she had to ask and argue for it.

but no, his dumbass was so entranced by some random girl that he completely dumped his special girl.

no, no, he shouldnt be think this. y/n isnt his special girl, she cheated on him.

she cheated

she cheated

she cheated

he had to chant it to himself in his head to actually try and get himself to believe it, but why couldnt he? he trusted amelia’s word did he?, but-

“matt, mmfff fuckk! ‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum!” amelia moaned, bringing matt back to what he was doing.

he closed his eyes momentarily, taking in a few pants before opening his eyes again and bringing himself back to the main point of this interaction.

he reached his hand around amelia’s hip to rub circles on her clit, urging her to her climax.

“cmon, pretty girl, ya gonna cum all over my cock?” he taunted, pulling out, before pushing in and staying inside for a moment, before pulling abrubtly back out.

matts hand moved from her clit, sliding his hand under her shirt to her nipple, pinching at it and stimulating it, with a loud moan, amelia came, her climax taking a huge toll on her, her eyesight going blurry and her elbows buckling on her.

matt grunted, feeling his own climax approaching, he pulled out, pumping himself a few times before shooting his load onto her lower back. subtly making it seem like thats where he wanted it to be in the moment, but truthfully, he didnt want to cum in her at all. that was meant for y/n, not amelia. he didnt want his cum, not inside his special girl.

amelia collasped onto the bed, resting her weak sore elbows and knees, taking in huge breaths and exhaling huge breaths, attempting to recover from the moment.

matt walked to his bathroom, grabbing a wet, warm washcloth and cleaning himself off before rinsing the cloth off again.

he pulled his boxers and pants up again. his eyes looked up into the mirror, where his reflection stared back at him, a disappointed look in his own eyes—towards himself.

he closed his eyes, walking out of the bathroom with the cloth in hand. opening his eyes again he crouched infront of amelia, cleaning her back before grabbing her waist he gently flipped her over onto her back and spread her legs, cleaning her up, his hands gently pulled her panties and shorts back up, then threw the dirty cloth in his laundry basket.

he laid in bed next to the already sleeping amelia, he stared up at the ceiling, folding his hands over his chest while he thought,

thought about how disappointing he was with himself and how he didnt even enjoy himself during his sex with amelia, he felt bad but he felt worse for himself. realizing that amelia would never be y/n, she’d never be similar to y/n.

why would he break up with her? did he really trust amelia’s word or did he just want an excuse to not want y/n anymore.

why did he do that?

amelia isnt y/n, she never was. y/n is his special girl, only y/n.

2940 words

@rosalierenee43 @luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @genshin-addict @ssilentzom @b2cute @livvy4realll @graysturns @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @sturn-bugz @maryx2xx @mattsmad @dollyspsychoxo @sunsetsturniolos @strniolo @sturnssmuts @simply-a-simper @riasturns @chrissturniolosworld @ariqolyx @starsturni @nathandoesgf @sillyfreakfanparty

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@e1ias3

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@starsturni

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@starsturni

@aliceloveschris

@sleepysturnss @xbabyd0lli3x @mbbsgf @stuniolo-simp4life @sturnsfavvv @sturnwritess @0zzzzz6-blog @coochiedestroyer1 @ratatioulle @bibassssssss @mbbsgf @nayveetbhh @jamiesturniolo @norr1ssturni0lo

@leia-13 @multi-fandom205 @d-seavy @mattsdinosweater @preppy234 @sturniololvrrr @fleurdaisy11 @im-a-bored-chicken-nugget @e1ias3

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo angst #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine

[asexualenjolras]

I need to talk about Charles Rowland and his love for Edwin Payne.

Charles saying he can't say he's in love with Edwin back doesn't mean he isn't in love with Edwin, and it doesn't mean he doesn't love Edwin in the same way that Edwin loves him.

He is just saying he needs to work out what he does feel.

Charles died when he was 16. He's still a child. Nobody at 16 knows what it means to be in love.

And, on top of that, he grew up in an abusive household with a warped understanding of what love means. His dad was abusive to his mum, so he wouldn't understand what being "in love" is compared to someone that grew up within a stable household. He's never had the time to unpack what that means about his ability to love. He's worried that he might end up like his dad, and he absolutely would never want to hurt Edwin like his dad hurts his mum.

Charles has a lot of confusion about love. He loves his mum, he knows that, and he loves his dad, despite everything he put him and his mum through.

And, on top of all of this, he grew up during a difficult period in history. He was a teenager in Britain in the 80's. The 80's were a notoriously homophobic period of time, and I'm not saying that Charles is dealing with internalised homophobia but growing up during a period of time where the homophobic rhetoric was rife would have an impact on anyone. Especially a confused 16 year old boy who didn't know much kindness in life.

Charles knows he loves Edwin more than anything and anyone else in his life, and he knows the love he feels for him is different to the love he feels for his mum. He just doesn't know whether what he feels for Edwin constitutes as being "in love" with him.

And he needs time to figure that out. That's what he is telling Edwin: he's telling him that he is the most important person in the world to him and that he does love him but he needs to work out what that means. And Edwin completely understands that because Charles put it so eloquently and in a way that Edwin could understand. This isn't the usual unreciprocated love trope. They are each other's person, and they're trying to navigate what that means for each of them.

Overall, Charles loves Edwin and Edwin loves Charles. And they're going to figure out what that means together in time. Because that's what they always do: they figure things out.

Together.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #netflix #dead boy detective agency #i am obsessed with them #their dynamic is so special #i will actually cry if i think about them too much #their love is so important #and they love each other so deeply #theyre soulmates in the most literal sense #because theyre two souls that were brought together

[peppermint-toads]

you don’t like doctor’s offices. especially not now. you don’t like the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights, the cabinets that’ve been there since the late 80’s, the pamphlets sitting in an acrylic holder telling you that you have options.

options. not anymore. because you’re sitting on the examination table about 16 weeks pregnant, waiting for the doctor.

“the baby looks healthy,” the doctor tells you, barging into the room without a knock. “i’m prescribing zofran for the nausea. the nurse will see you out.”

thank fucking god. you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of this place. the best part about these visits was the walk home. they are usually quite pleasant. being pregnant in the summertime has its downfalls, but feeling the breeze in your hair and through your thin dress is your saving grace.

it’s just another bonus that you pass your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. you think you’ll have an affogato today, decaf, of course.

it smells like heaven in the shop, that cool, sweet smell from the coolers. your favorite. this is your saving grace, this affogato will solidify the day as a good one, despite the lingering feeling of doctor on you.

ice cream in hand, it’s finally time to go home. the walk is clearing your head already. you eat a spoonful of vanilla and sigh. maybe you ought to stop by the pharmacy for those meds. on second thought, that can be tomorrow’s task. you’ll be alright.

actually, maybe not. because you see simon riley’s stupid, bulking form walking towards you about a block away. fuck. shit fuck. you should hide. duck into the closest shop before he can come after you. but it’s no hope, you’re looking up and you’ve already made direct eye contact. nausea meds sound so good right now.

may as well keep going forward. it’s not like he’ll notice, anyway. you’re barely showing, but your white dress isn’t doing you any favors right now.

you’ll give a polite smile, duck your head, and all will be well. no stopping, no small talk, no—

simon is physically cornering you to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and there is nothing you can do about it. maybe if you curl your back in a little bit, the bump won’t be as noticeable.

“what are you doing? stop that.”

he is so gracefully referring to your posture.

“i don’t have time for this simon. i’ve got things to do.”

you walk sideways around him, and he follows.

“where are you coming from?”

you can’t help it. “you lost the right to ask that question when you fell off the face of the planet.”

you hear him grunt behind you and smile. great, no snide comments yet.

“you look different.”

shit. he’s jogging, catching up to you and walking by your side now. the breeze is picking up and you shift uncomfortably. the fabric of your dress is clinging to your stomach.

simon looks down, his intent is to see what you’re eating, but he catches a glimpse of your swollen stomach and freezes. he’s nearly swallowed by all the foot traffic.

“simon?” you feel the loss of him by your side. he’s stood still, strangers bumping into him and jostling his shoulders.

great. now you’re backtracking, when really all you want is to be at home, in bed.

“simon, what’s your problem?”

“you’re pregnant.”

time stops for him. he’s the father, no way he couldn’t be. unless you were cheating on him, which he highly doubts considering your heart is the purest thing he’s ever encountered during his time on this earth.

you let out a long, long sigh. “yeah.”

then you’re swaying, trying to keep upright and simultaneously swallowing down vomit. simon watches as the life drains from your face a bit. his hands are gripping your shoulders to stabilize you. his touch feels nice, warm.

“i need to get home,” you tell him with a sad smile, pained to be leaving his soft touch behind yet again.

“i’ll walk you.”

you nod. you don’t have the heart to ask him to take his hand off your waist, feels too good. and he’s keeping the world right side up.

it’s only a short distance home, and soon he’s ushering you up the stairs to your flat. you don’t stop him from doing that, either.

you also don’t stop him from pulling your favorite blanket over you after helping you lie down on the couch.

you don’t even get the chance to tell him to leave because you’re just so tired, and his presence makes you feel so safe. you’re falling asleep and quickly. he lets you.

he sits and watches you sleep for the better part of an hour. when you stir, he’s there, staring.

he’s in your lounge chair, chin resting on his folded knuckles.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re barely awake and what’s he saying? “huh?” you say stupidly, wiping your eyes of sleep.

“i said,” he swallows, “i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re sitting straight up now, definitely more awake now. “i couldn’t have told you. even if i wanted to. you disappeared, simon.

he did. but he doesn’t have the time to explain that now. so, he ignores you.

“how far along are you?”

you tell him. he stands from the chair, sitting down right next to you. he asks if he can feel your stomach. you guess so.

things are getting a little too serious for you now.

“right, well. i had a lovely nap, and i’m feeling much better. thank you for walking me home, but i need to stop by the pharmacy and—”

he interrupts you, tugging your wrist when you try to stand. “i’ll go for you. i’ll do it, please. i’ll do anything you ask me to.

you frown down at him. “simon, there’s no point to this. please just go. it’s just… too late.”

simon’s heart is breaking. he didn’t think it could break anymore than it already has in the last few months.

“let me stay.”

he begs. you think there are tears in his eyes, and if you let them fall you know there’ll be no going back. so you sit with him, you let him kiss you with his hand on your stomach. you let him lay you down on the beat up couch he was always pestering you to replace. you let him pull your dress over your head and kiss his way down your stomach. you let him sink into you slowly and pull your calves up to rest on his shoulders. you let him cum inside of you, again.

you even let him go to the pharmacy for you.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x pregnant reader

[gi4hao]

vernon x gn!reader — lighthearted fluff, teasing as a love language, vernon is a nerd

plot: vernon is in a flirty mood. that’s literally it.

“don’t you think it’s a weird saying?”

on your right, vernon hums interrogatively without taking his eyes off of the tv.

“the guy just told her ‘i love you to the moon and back’. i think it’s a weird thing to say.”

this time he turns his head towards you. partly out of interest for your last words, but mostly to grab the bucket of popcorn you’ve been hogging.

“you’re right, how dare he declare his love to his wife? such a weirdo…” he scoffs as he grabs a handful of popcorn, slightly frowning at the realization that there were a lot more last time he had the bucket on his lap.

his unserious reply calls for more drastic measures, so you grab the remote and pause the movie.

“i’m just saying, why the moon? why not the sun? it’s much farther.”

vernon takes a couple of seconds to ponder over your observation, face completely still except for his active chewing.

“good point. if it were me, i’d tell you i love you to GN-z11 and back,” he remarks, but immediately notices that something is not clicking in your brain. “it’s the farthest galaxy from earth. well, that we know of at least.”

“oh wow… you’re such a nerd,” you chuckle, “you’re telling me you just woke up one day wanting to know what’s the farthest point from our planet and looked it up?”

your puzzled expressions look almost similar in that moment, although provoked by two very different things. to vernon, none of his words are worth such a dumbfounded reaction.

“…yeah? is this what i get for trying to be romantic? bullying?” he replies with an air of fake offense. “nevermind, i guess i only love you to the supermarket and back then.”

the gasp you let out is so loud it almost makes him flinch and knock the bucket over. but that gasp was nothing compared to the way you suddenly slump down on him, fully taking him by surprise.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! i love your nerdy flirting, i would die if i had to live without your fun little facts, i’m so serious!” you exclaim, hands on his cheeks to force him to look at you. “i love you to that galaxy with a weird name and back, i swear! now say it back please.”

it’s not that vernon doesn’t feel like continuing this fake argument just for fun, it’s that he physically cannot with your pleading eyes staring right into his.

“i’ll forgive you if you let me finish the popcorn…” he starts, pausing until you’ve nodded in agreement, “and yes, i love you to GN-z11 and back, of course i do.”

it takes all your physical and mental strength to not tell him how cute he looks with his cheeks slightly squished by your palms. so instead, you channel this affection into a loud kiss on his lips, which he extends by placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, applying more pressure on your mouth.

when your lips part, your eyes are opened a bit wider than usual, still surprised by the intensity of his kiss; which he notices with a slight smirk.

now laying on top of him, you prop yourself up on your elbows, a bit out of breath:

“they need to discover a farther galaxy. this one isn’t gonna be enough,” you blurt out, and watch his smirk morph into a genuine smile that brings a light blush to his cheeks.

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED <3

#love love love writing for him ngl #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #hansol x reader

[harrysfolklore]

home hero - charles x reader

gif by @princemick <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Monaco is Charles' home. Growing up, he had watched the Grand Prix from the balconies and rooftops, dreaming of the day he would stand atop the podium. Each year, the pressure mounted as he came so close, only to have victory slip through his fingers.

Today felt different. There was a determined glint in his eye this morning as he kissed you goodbye and headed to the track. You could tell he was ready, more focused than ever before. You had to believe this was his year.

"Are you nervous?" you asked, leaning against the kitchen counter asyou watched him get everything he needed before heading out.

"More than usual," he admitted, flashing you a quick smile,"But I feel good. I have a good feeling about today."

"You’ve got this, Charles. I believe in you," you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you," he hugged you tightly, resting his chin on top of your head.

"You'd still be amazing," you said, looking up at him,"But I'm glad I get to be here with you."

You arrived at the circuit, the familiar roar of engines filling your ears as you made your way to the paddock. You found your usual spot in the Ferrari garage, the team bustling around with last-minute preparations. You exchanged nervous smiles with the crew, all of you hoping for the same outcome.

You watched as Charles went through his pre-race routine, meticulously checking everything himself even though he trusted his team completely. He looked up at you and smiled, his nervous eyes softening the moment they landed on you.

"Hey, come here," he called softly, waving you over.

You walked over, taking his gloved hand in yours. "You’re going to do great, you know that, right?"

"I just," he sighed, "Really want that win, you know? Not just for me, but for my family, my friends, for us," you smiled fondly at his words, "This is my home and everyone believes in me, I don't want to keep letting them down."

"Charles, you've never let anyone down," you squeezed his hand, "You've given everything you have, every time and that's why everyone believes in you. No matter what happens today, you're already a champion in our eyes."

"You're too sweet," he teased with a small smile, pecking your lips quickly, "I need to go. I'll see you after the race."

"Be safe out there," you said, giving him one last lingering kiss.

You watched as he made his way to the car, taking a deep breath before climbing in. The race was about to begin, and the anticipation was palpable. You found your seat in the garage, eyes glued to the screen, heart pounding with every lap.

As the race progressed, it was clear that Charles was driving with everything he had. Lap after lap, he maintained his position and defended his lead against the competition.

With only a few laps to go, the tension in the garage was at an all-time high. You could barely breathe, every fiber of your being focused on Charles and the car.

And then, it happened. Charles crossed the finish line and the checkered flag was waved, securing his first win at the Monaco Grand Prix. The garage erupted in cheers, and you felt tears of joy streaming down your face.

He did it. He actually did it.

Before you even knew what was happening, you ran to the pit wall, heart soaring with pride as you watched Charles climb out of the car, his face a mixture of disbelief and pure elation. He waved to the crowd, taking in the moment before making his way over to the barrier, his eyes searching for you.

You pushed through the crowd, your heart racing as you made your way to him. When he finally saw you, his face lit up with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Charles!" you called out, your voice cracking with emotion.

"We did it!" he shouted, pulling you into his arms and hugging you tightly, his voice full of joy and relief.

"You did it," you corrected, laughing through your tears. "I'm so proud of you!"

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said, pressing his forehead against yours. "Fuck! I can't believe this is real."

You kissed him, a sweet and lingering kiss that held all the words you couldn't say in that moment. When you pulled back, you saw the love and gratitude in his eyes, and it made your heart swell with even more pride.

"Now go stand on top of the podium, you deserve it."

The celebrations were in full swing as it was time for the podium. Charles was greeted with cheers and applause from the team, his family, and the fans who had supported him through thick and thin. The Monegasque flag waving proudly above him.

The national anthem played, and you watched as tears of pride and joy rolled down Charles' cheeks. This was the moment he had dreamed of, the moment he worked so hard for. And now, it was finally here.

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #max verstappen #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x reader #monaco gp 2024 #monaco grand prix #scuderia ferrari

[ariesangelxo]

mornings - part two

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

cw: more angst, still no comfort (i promise it’s coming in the next part), heartbreak, one mention of panic attacks, prescription benzo use, recreational coke use, drinking, arguing, mention of a gun and a gunshot at the end, not proofread lol

an: thank u all SO SO much for all of the love on part one !!! i am blown away and in awe. there also will be a part three for sure <3

the past twenty-six days had not been kind to you. your mornings were spent rotting away in bed until your mom would force you to get up, her expression of concern always made you feel even worse. your days weren’t much better, you forced yourself to detach from your heart and numb your emotions. it was the only way you knew how to keep going. you put on a mask during the day with your parents, giving them occasional smiles and laughs that weren’t the kind that warmed their hearts. they knew you weren’t okay, but they also knew they couldn’t force you to talk about it or you’d shut down completely. your nights consisted of taking a benzodiazepine in order to fall asleep, you couldn’t sleep without them. you tried, it only led to intense panic attacks and hysterical sobs that made your mother’s heart break in front of you.

this morning had been a bit different. you were awakened when you felt a weight in your bed, and in the haze of waking up you initially thought it was rafe. you shot up the moment you remembered everything, eyes widening and heart racing, but you looked over to see sarah in your bed. "oh my god, sarah you scared the hell out of me!" you exclaimed, holding a hand over your chest.

she let out a giggle, "i'm sorry, your mom let me in. i miss you," her tone was gentle. you had become very close with sarah during your relationship with rafe. being over at the cameron's house so often led to a beautiful friendship forming between the two of you. she was like a sister to you, something you cherished deeply as you didn't grow up with a sister.

you felt a pang of guilt in your chest at her words. you knew she missed you, she'd messaged you every single day since your break up without fail, even if you didn't always text back. you had seen her a couple times, but when she asked about what happened, you told her you weren't ready to talk about it. sarah was incredibly understanding, knowing how much you loved her brother and not wanting to push you too far.

"i miss you too, sar. i'm sorry i've been such a shit friend lately." you responded to her. you gave her a small smile, curling up next to her as she sat against your headboard.

"it's okay, i know you're not doing great with everything going on right now," she trailed off with a sad smile, "but, you're going out with me tonight!" she became animated as she spoke.

you didn't have it in your heart to deny her, not when she looked at you like you were the most important person in her world. "you know i can't say no to you. where are we going?" you asked curiously.

"there's going to be a huge party at the boneyard, and you're coming with me. no ifs, ands, or buts." she giggled out, "i need to get you out of your room, you're rotting away in here, babe."

"god, you sound just like my mother," you teased back. "i'll go though, i miss you more than you know. i even miss the pogues a bit." you both laughed, referencing her newer relationship with john b.

you couldn't prevent your curiosity from getting the better of you, "how- how has he been?"

sarah bit her lip, debating internally how much to tell you. "he's been... not great. i don't see him much when i'm home, he's usually in his room with the door shut. he's been a lot more moody too, snapping at literally everyone in the house. it probably didn't help that i told him he's an idiot and he fucked up the best thing to ever happen to him."

you couldn't suppress the laugh that slipped through your lips or the slight satisfaction you felt knowing that you weren't the only one struggling. "i love you sar. thank you." you leaned over, giving her a hug.

"i love you too. now get your ass up and shower. we're getting you a new outfit for the party."

you spent the next few hours strolling through the streets of figure eight with sarah. your arms held multiple shopping bags, filled with clothes she insisted you needed for tonight. you were incredibly grateful that she had forced you out of bed, you actually felt human for the first time since everything happened.

you found yourself in a small cafe, giggling as sarah told you a story from one of her drunken adventures with the pogues.

“you know… you should talk to jj tonight. i know he thinks you’re hot.” sarah gave you a mischievous smile as she wiggled her brows.

“funny,” you rolled your eyes playfully at her, “but it’s way too soon for me to get into anything with anybody right now.”

“i didn’t mean start dating him, i just think you would have fun together.”

“i just- i don’t know, sar. i’ve been such a wreck these past few weeks… can i tell you what happened?” you looked up from your fingers to meet her eyes, now widened with shock.

“yeah, of course you can. but don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.”

you were grateful for her support, going into your explanation of how the last couple months of your relationship, rafe’s behavior changed drastically. sarah hung on to your every word, needing to know exactly what led to the end of your relationship.

“and so i walked into the country club to surprise him. i spent the whole morning getting ready, did my makeup how he likes, even wore a new sundress that i know he would have loved. but i walked in and…” you looked up as your vision began to blur, “he was talking with some bitch i’ve never seen before bartending. she had short brunette hair, but he fucking smirked at her the way he only does- did for me. and- and then, she basically fucking held his hand while she fucked him with her eyes, and he let it happen!”

you spit the words out like they were poison on your tongue, not noticing your voice beginning to raise with frustration. sarah’s jaw was nearly on the floor.

“what the- what the fuck?” she racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d seen anyone matching your description recently, but nothing came to her.

“god, shit. i’m so sorry, babe. i don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.” she attempted to console you as you dabbed your eyes with a napkin.

you shrugged your shoulders, “what’s done is done. i just want to forget about everything for a while.”

she nodded, “then let’s go get ready. we can pregame at yours and ride with john b and them.”

after a few shots, a couple hours spent transforming yourself to not look like you spent the last three weeks trying to cope with your break up, and a lot of laughter, you and sarah were ready to go.

you wore a cropped loosely crocheted white sweater over your pink bikini and a white miniskirt that hugged your hips , the strings from your bottom peaking out from the top of it. you were finally feeling good about yourself again, and you’d be damned if you let anyone ruin it.

the ride to the boneyard only lifted your spirits more. it was impossible not to laugh around the pogues, especially when jj did whatever he could to hear your giggle.

you arrived just as the party was beginning to pick up. relief flooded your veins when you didn’t see rafe anywhere. you knew it was a possibility he’d be here, but it was going to be significantly easier to have a decent night without his presence lingering around.

you filled up a red solo cup at the keg, downing the cheap alcohol before refilling it.

“slow down there, or you might not make it too long.” jj approached you, giving you a flirty smile.

you gave him a laugh in response, “i’ll be fine, jay. i just want to be able to let loose tonight.”

“stick by me then, don’t want any of these pervs creeping on you.” the thinly veiled concern in his voice made you smile. you know he’s flirting, but it’s clear he wants to keep you safe knowing it’s your first night out in so long.

you spent the next hour surrounded by the pogues, and true to his word, jj looked out for you. he did so well that you failed to notice who had shown up to the party, the one and only rafe cameron.

rafe, on the other hand, saw you immediately upon arriving. it was impossible for him not to when your presence demanded his attention. he was not happy to see who you were hanging around with. his ongoing beef with the pogues was well known by everybody on the island. he didn’t come to party though, he had other business to attend to as barry gave him a side eye, “fuck are you doing, country club? you can fight for your girl later, we’ve got shit to do.”

your drink had somehow disappeared. your furrowed your brows as you looked down, giggling to yourself as you told your friends you were going to get another one. you were at the perfect level of drunk, not to the point of blacking out or vomiting, but to where you couldn’t quite walk in a straight line and everything was funny to you.

you stumbled up to the keg, starting to fill up your cup when you felt someone watching you. the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you instantly knew who it was. it was as though there was a chip in you that alerted you to when he was nearby. you took a deep breath as you turned your head slightly, seeing rafe sat next to a man you didn’t know as he handed a small plastic bag filled with overpriced coke to a touron. rafe’s eyes didn’t leave you as he signaled him to leave.

you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the hand holding onto your cup now trembling and the lump in your throat building. rafe stood, starting to approach you as you froze. your brain was screaming at you to run but your body refused to move an inch.

“what the fuck do you want, cameron?” your words were spat out with venom. your tone clearly surprised you both as he looked shocked momentarily. you were typically one to stand your ground, but never ever was your attitude aimed towards him.

“what do you mean ‘what the fuck do i want’? you fucking up and left out of nowhere and haven’t spoken to me in almost a month.” his voice was filled with anger, his nose flaring as he clenched his jaw.

you let out a humorless laugh, “out of nowhere? you can’t be serious, rafe. you treated me like shit the last few months of our relationship.” you didn’t yet mention seeing his interaction with the bartender at the country club, not knowing if topper and kelce had told him about seeing you when you left that fateful day.

“what? be-because i couldn’t be with you twenty-four fucking seven? like i- i wasn’t out working my ass off to afford nice shit for you?”

“‘working your ass off’ will you stop fucking lying to me? i fucking saw you at the country club,” his facial expression showed confusion, bringing his brows together to try and understand what you were talking about, “you let that bitch touch you, you looked at her how you used to look at me. i spent hours getting ready, i showed up, wanting to surprise my boyfriend for lunch, and what do i see? my boyfriend letting some bartender hang off of him while he flirts with her?”

your voice had raised as you got more and more angry. you were now shouting at him as other partygoers failed to hide their stares and murmuring. nobody ever talked to the kook prince the way you currently were, unless they wanted their face bashed in.

rafe grabbed your arm harshly, pulling you down the beach and away from others. you stumbled behind him, knowing you weren’t physically or mentally strong enough to push him away.

when you looked up at him, you suddenly noticed his blown-out pupils. you felt your heart sink. “you’re using again.” you stated flatly.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes at you. “don’t act like you fucking care.” he spat out at you.

“jesus fucking christ- rafe, when did you start again?”

“don’t worry about it. when did you come to the country club?” his tone was demanding, sparking further irritation in you.

“the day i left. i- i let a lot of shit slide for too long, because… because i wanted to be a good girlfriend and support you when i thought you were just stressed out from work. and, in return, i get to watch my boyfriend make me look like a fucking idiot.”

rafe was silent for a minute, his lips pursed as he clearly was trying to remember what he was doing before he came home to an angry ward and an empty room. then realization hit him, he knew exactly what you were talking about. he brought his palm up to his face, groaning.

when he was about to speak, he was cut off. “is cameron bothering you?” jj’s familiar voice called out. you looked past rafe’s large figure to see all of the pogues standing beside him, looking ready for a fight if it came to it.

rafe gave a humorless chuckle, “stay the fuck out of it, pogue.” he clearly wouldn’t go down without a fight either.

your heart stopped for a moment and your body filled with ice cold terror as jj pulled out a gun that was hidden behind his back in his waistband. it was clear you weren’t the only one not expecting it as the rest of them looked at jj with concern, john b telling him to put it away. “yeah? let’s fucking go, rafe. been itching for a fight for too long.”

everything became blurred. the mixture of shouting, seeing figures suddenly moving towards each other, and the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot, and then everything went black.

#divider creds: xxbimbobunnyxx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x fem!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #obx fic #obx

[bunny-yan]

Can we get more of yandere soldier? I miss the guy

TW: mentions domestic abuse, slight stockholm syndrome, choking, minors DNI

—

Winter was perplexed. 

When you were well enough to finally leave the bed you’d been confined to and walk around on your own, his eyes had a habit of following you across the room as you explored his home. It was innocent, or at least he assumed it was, but he couldn’t help but feel on edge. Picture frames or trinkets that hadn’t been touched for years, apart from the occasional dusting, were slightly off-center or rotated in ways he wasn’t used to. 

His eyes would follow as you’d finger the material on the medals hanging from the wall or trace your hands along the books he’d gathered over the years, pulling one out, completely unaware of how he’d inwardly cringe when you put it back in a different place. When distraction took you elsewhere, he would follow your trail, looking at the things you adjusted, and he struggled between wanting to put them back where they “belonged” or allowing the small changes to remain as proof of your presence here. 

It was unsettling but nice. Your curiosity allowed him to believe that this unexpected situation might have a chance to work for the better—for both of you. 

The way you struggled to keep your head above water in your day to day wasn’t something you could claim you missed. Sure, it was strange to feel completely safe in the house of a man who kidnapped you, but he made no attempt to take advantage of the situation. He claimed he wanted to take care of you, and so far, it was what he’d been doing. 

But you couldn’t help but wonder if his behavior, if his niceness, was genuine or an act meant to lower your guard.

“I’m all better now,” you said, deciding to break the conversation while he was busy cleaning one of his rifles. 

It was something he did methodically. 

The sight of such a large weapon unnerved you the first time you left his bedroom. Paranoia struck thoughts of it being used on you and kept you locked away for weeks until he reassured you that it was simply a part of his routine. One, you initially loathed hearing, he wasn’t intending on changing. He went so far as to sit you down, showing you how the weapon wouldn’t even fire unless he removed the modifications he’d installed for safety. 

You watched him. Fingers moving like a well-oiled machine as he took it apart, Winter broke it down piece by piece until the rifle was unassembled and laid out neatly in front of him, looking similar to an unboxing of some new device and not at all like a gun. 

But a gun it was, and after going to painstaking detail to clean and buff each piece he’d reassembled it in less than a minute. 

Setting it aside, he looked up at you before nodding his head.

You waited, unsure if he had anything to add, but when the silence continued you took a deep breath before continuing. 

“I no longer have a fever. I can walk around by myself now and I don’t need your help to get dressed anymore. I’d say I’m pretty self-sufficient at managing myself now.”

Again, he nodded. Standing, he grabbed his rifle before heading towards the door, and you panicked. You’d finally worked up the courage to have this conversation. He couldn’t leave before you got to say what you needed to. 

“I was wondering if you would take me back now.”

Winter paused. 

You weren’t sure if the sudden halt in his footsteps was a good thing. You knew he’d never hurt you, and you knew the rifle in his hands wouldn’t shoot, but still, you felt nervous. You couldn’t decipher if it was the gun or him that was doing it to you. 

“Back where?” he asked. 

Going to the closet instead, you trailed behind him, watching as he placed his rifle on the wall stand before closing the door and locking it with a key that he easily slid into his pants. 

“Back,” you said, feeling dumb, unsure what to say. He had to have known what you meant. It wasn’t usual for people to go to sleep in their crappy one-bedroom apartment and wake up in a stranger’s secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere. At least you hoped it wasn’t, but it was just your luck that you beat the odds. 

Winter turned to face you, arms folding across his chest. 

You frowned because you knew what that meant. Mirroring his stance, you refused to back down. 

“No.”

“Why? You said that you’d take care of me.” You gestured to yourself. “I’m taken care of! The drugs should be well out of my system by now. I’m fit to return to society any day now.”

He remained silent. You didn’t know if it was because you’d thrown it in his face that the only reason you’re remained incapacitated for so long was because of the heavy dosage that he’d given you or because he was refusing to humor you with a response. Either way, it frustrated you. 

“I won’t tell anyone about you! I’ll forget all of this ever happened the second you take me back.”

“Back to what?”

“My home!” you exclaimed. It was ridiculous to fight so hard to get back to an apartment complex that you hated. You often took extra shifts just to be able to afford the ratty apartment you called your own, but it was yours. Something that signified your independence, your questionable success at adulting. Sure you spent so much on rent that you could barely afford to feed yourself, but you made do with leftovers from the restaurant. Another plus to working the job that you dreaded going to every day you got up. The days were long, and the labor was intense, but it could be worse. If you continued to remind yourself of how much worse your life could be, it made your current situation more bearable. 

You looked up when he came near, body uncharacteristically relaxed as he reached a hand towards you. His thumb brushed underneath your eye, and you froze. Was he being affectionate? He had never done anything like this before. It shouldn’t have caught you as off guard as it did considering skinship was something you’d become accustomed to since he had to assist you with bathing for weeks, but that was necessary, and this was voluntary. 

“The bags have finally disappeared.”

You felt your face flush before you smacked his hand away, something eating at your insides. Of course, he was still trying to argue you down. It annoyed you how easily he managed to prod at your weaknesses despite barely saying a thing. 

It was true that you hadn’t gotten an actual chance to catch up on real sleep before coming here, but that didn’t matter. Everyone had to work. Everyone did something to keep going, and if that meant you had to work 12-hour shifts almost every day to survive, then that was what you’d do. 

Because you had to. 

You had to.

“Will you stop treating me like a child‽” you asked, glaring at him and only feeling more anger when his expression remained unchanged. Caring, eyes almost engulfed with a sense of pity. “I’m an adult. Adults have responsibilities. Sure, I work long hours. I don’t always have enough time to take care of myself, but it’s an unfortunate part of life.” You grit your teeth, feeling a familiar headache began to resurface. It’d been so long, but you couldn’t believe you’d only just now noticed that you no longer woke up with headaches. 

Your body didn’t ache in weird places that you either ignored or took cheap pain medication to temporarily stop the aches in order to give you enough strength to power through another day. The thought that you were fighting to leave to return back to that made bile rush to your throat, but the thought of staying here. Of allowing him to take care of you. It was scarier than what you knew. Even if what you knew was a hell you wished to escape from every day. 

“It’s my life,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’d appreciate it if you would let me get back to it.”

He shook his head. “Why?”

You were tired of these one-word questions that remained impossible to answer without drudging up memories you were better off not remembering.

“Because-!” you began, stopping yourself when you looked into those eyes of his. That same compassion, only this time you couldn’t deny the curiosity in his gaze. The actual desire to understand why you were trying so hard to ruin a good thing. 

Because this is wrong! I’m not supposed to want to stay with my kidnapper. I’m not supposed to trust that you’d actually take care of me if I let you. 

The answers died in your throat as you stared at him. 

Because I’m not supposed to want this. 

You shook your head. “It’s none of your business. Just bring me back.”

“No.” he said again. 

“What reason do you have for kidnapping a complete stranger‽” you yelled. “Are you some sick pervert who can’t find companionship any other way?” You regretted the words the moment they left your lips. You knew it wasn’t true. You knew he’d had every opportunity to take advantage of you, but he didn’t. You knew, but you didn’t trust him. You couldn’t. 

“Are you so desperate to go back to him?”

His question made you take a step back. Looking into his eyes, you were hesitant to actually believe that you saw jealousy there. 

“You call yourself an adult, but you don’t take care of yourself which is your biggest responsibility.” His words were soft-spoken, but they cut into you sharper than any knife ever could. “You don’t budget properly to be able to afford a meal that’s going to provide you with actual sustenance. You allow yourself to be conned into paying too much for an apartment that isn’t in a good neighborhood. You work yourself to exhaustion without giving yourself time to pull yourself together and worst of all you allow yourself to remain in an abusive relationship with someone who will only find it easier to take advantage of you the longer you stay.”

“Shut up,” you said.

“Does he make you feel seen? Does he reward your negative behavior with pretty lies meant to keep you complacent and satisfied?”

“Shut up.”

“He makes you feel like you’re doing a good job and you let him stay because if you allowed yourself to open up to anyone even half decent, you’d be forced to acknowledge that you’re running away.”

You had never wanted him to stop talking as much as you did now. 

Before you could stop yourself, your hand reared back before whipping it forward. The rage caught in your throat when he caught your wrist in a firm grip. 

“You’re playing at being an adult. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. You hate your life, and you refuse to admit it.”

“Let go of me,” you said, pulling at your hand. You winched when your struggle became painful. He acknowledged your pain by loosening his grip, but he didn’t let go. 

“Make me.”

You used your other hand to try and pry his fingers from around your wrist, yanking and pulling, pushing against him and demanding that he let you go. Still, he didn’t release you.

Instead, he pulled you forward, a gasp allowing all the air in your lungs to escape as your back slammed into his chest before his arm was wrapped around your neck, forcing you to remain stationary if you didn’t want to lose what little air his grip allowed. You pushed at his arm, but he didn’t budge, your demands raspy and unable to pass beyond the pressure he kept on your neck.

“What will you do when you’ve finally had enough? He’s already shown you that he isn’t afraid to put his hands on you. Will you continue to sit there and take it? Smile and allow him in as long as he isn’t putting bruises on your skin? What about when that isn’t enough anymore?”

You gasped for air, feeling tears prick at the corners of your vision as even the saliva in your mouth became too much to swallow.

Emitting a small sound, it was all it took for him to drop you. 

Collapsing to your knees, your cough was violent. Putting a hand around your throat to soothe the tender skin, you glared up at Winter before faltering once again. 

The expression on his face was horrified, lost as he looked at you. He was frozen, unsure what to do, what to say and you felt the same. You had never seen that side of him before. You knew he was dangerous, or he could be if he wanted to be. You just never expected it to rear its head like this. 

“Winter?”

Saying his name was all it took to break him out of that trance. He didn’t spare you another glance before he was all but running back to the closet to grab his rifle before he was out the door before you could get another word out.

You rubbed at your throat, still angry at what he had said but angrier still at the thought that he might be right. After five minutes passed, you buried the guilt threatening to eat you alive and slipped out of the front door. 

Even if he was right, you couldn’t stay here. 

Not with him. 

Not with his words that said too much or nothing at all. 

Not with his hands that refused to leave marks on your body. 

You couldn’t bear another moment wishing that you didn’t want to. 

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yan!winter #yandere soldier

[babyleostuff]

. . . praising the vu for the "cheers to youth" MV

[ 💗 ] yoon jeonghan

jeonghan thought he was prepared for your praise because you never failed to tell him how good he looked, and how great of a job he did after every single MV that came out, so he didn’t anticipate for anything to be different this time. but while usually you were quite vocal while watching the MVs, this time you were completely silent, and hannie didn’t really know what to make of it. so when he shyly asked you what you thought of the video, and you smiled at him - he completely melted. for some reason your praise hit different this time, and jeonghan’s heart swelled with so much love while listening to you.

[ 💗 ] joshua hong

before even watching the video you made your own theories on what the storyline would be, and of course you shared them with shua, so imagine his excitement (because he obviously knew what it was) when all of your theories where if fact - wrong. what he didn’t anticipate, though, was for you to start cooing over the meerkat, and repeating how cute it was. he was kind of like ??? what about me, but then again you were so cute sitting on the floor with the computer in front of you, trying to understand what was going on in the MV that he didn’t have the heart to say anything. of course later you made sure to tell him how cute the real shua was :)))

[ 💗 ] lee jihoon

he just sat there listening to you with the biggest lovesick smile on his face. if there was one thing that could make jihoon smile like that, it was hearing your praise. not because he wanted to be told how good of a songwriter and producer he was, or how good looking he was, but because hearing the love of your life say how proud they are of you was the biggest reward jihoon could ever get. he wanted nothing more to be a man you could be proud of.

[ 💗 ] lee seokmin

he just couldn’t stop smiling while watching you. you looked so immersed in the MV, he could practically see your brain trying to figure out what was going on. and if you couldn’t get anymore adorable, your occasional “aw” or “oh my, so cute”, made his heart melt so much. to seokmin, your reactions, were better than any praise, he loved how focused you were on a silly little video, like it was the biggest masterpiece. of course he hugged you right after you finished watching, you’d do that yourself anyway. you could say it was your little routine whenever you were watching the MVs.

[ 💗 ] boo seungkwan

it never fails to amaze seungkwan how your words and praise make him feel. he knew you’d get all “awww” and low key emotional over the MV, but actually seeing it was completely different. it’s the way your words are nothing but sincere and filled with so much adoration for him and what he does, that boo can’t help but blush. he gains so much reassurance from you, and that’s when he realises why he does what he does, and why he loves it so much.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #seventeen kpop #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen carat #seventeen reaction #seventeen requests #wen junhui #svt #dino #svt woozi #minghao #hoshi #leechan #minghao x reader #minghao x you #minghao x y/n #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #junhui fluff #performance unit #dino x you #dino x reader #dino x y/n #minghao fluff

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Giving Headpats to Furina, Lynette, Arlecchino, Chiori, Lumine, Jean, Eula, Noelle, Ayaka, Sara, Yae, Shenhe, and Xianyun

No one requested this, as for the reason this post exists, the only thing I can give you is this image:

Furina freezes up the moment she feels S/O's hand pick up her hat, only to ruffle her hair.

She squawks for just a moment, quickly blushing and pouting as Furina yanks her hat down.

(Furina) "D-Don't just start patting me out of nowhere!"

Crossing her arms, she looks away, trying to not look bothered about the whole affair.

She finds it highly embarrassing. At least in public.

The moment they're alone and she feels their hand, she closes her eyes and completely relaxes, humming in content.

There's still a blush on her, but it's far more subdued unless S/O starts teasing her about it.

Lynette does not like just anyone rubbing her head due to her cat-like features.

In public, the top of her head in general is completely off limits.

But if it's just her and S/O at home, then she allows it.

In fact, when S/O's hand starts petting her head, she leans into them completely as her eyes close, just like an actual cat.

Her ears twitch a little, but her tail swishes left and right happily.

If they stop too early, Lynette's eyes slowly open and looks at them expectantly.

(Lynette) "...Why did you stop?"

Feeling the warm of their hand allowed Lynette to rest comfortably, and to space out to her heart's content.

Arlecchino did the same thing to comfort many of the children at the Hearth.

Yet she didn't know what to do when S/O did the same, feeling her hair slightly ruffled.

If her S/O was taller (in which case "Dude, you look huge"), she really wouldn't comment on the height difference, but if they were shorter, THEN she'd be surprised they would even attempt it.

Arlecchino doesn't care if it's in private or public, but she would care if they did so in front of her kids.

Because then they'd see that she has someone that can make her comfortable too, which in turn makes them happy.

Seeing their father cared for puts them at ease, making Arlecchino thankful in her own way.

But as for the action itself: she would just talk to them in her usual tone, though with a bit of a "threat" lying underneath.

(Arlecchino) "Did you wish for me to pat your head too, S/O? I might be rougher with you than the others."

Chiori raises an eyerbrow.

(Chiori) "S/O, what are you doing?"

Once they explain themselves, Chiori can't help roll her eyes.

(Chiori) "Did you expect me to get all flustered from that? Psh, it'll take a little more than messing up my hair to do that. Speaking of which, can you fix it for me? I'm a little busy here."

She finds it cute, yeah, but it's not that big of a deal.

Plus, she finds it weird.

Who just goes around, patting their girlfriends' heads unprompted?

Oh well, it's not like this was particularly harmful, so Chiori lets it slide.

But if they do that in front of customers or in public, S/O is dead.

Lumine's body stiffens when S/O's hand ruffles her hair lovingly, before she quickly giggles.

(Lumine) "Hey, stand still!"

She quickly does the same back, though her retaliation is far more playful and destructive.

S/O's hair is an absolute mess now, Lumine giving a cheeky grin back.

(Lumine) "There, now you look better than before!"

It does not take long for the situation to quickly devolve into a tickle fight with both of them on the bed laughing.

Jean takes a moment to register what S/O is doing, but after a few seconds she smiles.

Jean lets her shoulders drop, feeling more at ease by the second.

So this is how Barbara and Klee felt when she did the same.

(Jean) "Your hand feels quite nice, S/O..."

She doesn't realize her own flushed cheeks as her vision becomes slightly hazed with her affection.

If anything, she feels a little sad everytime they pull back.

It was such a relaxing sensation, and honestly made her feel a little sleepy.

Eula's head feels a bit colder to the touch, but her body is rapidly heating up, especially her face.

(Eula) "What do you think you're doing, S/O?"

Hearing their answer, Eula pauses for a moment before responding.

(Eula) "Next time, you should ask for permission instead of rubbing my hair like I'm some sort of child...I don't recall asking you to stop either."

In classic Eula fashion, she doesn't tell them directly that she loves the feeling of their hands.

But she'd be damned if she was going to admit something so embarrassing.

Noelle feels a mixture of pride and embarrassment everytime S/O pats her on the head.

On one hand it felt quite nice, and the gesture was very sweet!

But it made her feel a little childish.

She never voiced her latter feelings aloud, because it still made her flustered all the same.

(Noelle) "A-Ah...Um, thank you, S/O...!"

It made her want to do her best everytime just so she could receive such affection, and made sure to do it back to them!

But with her strength, she accidentally completely dishevels their hair.

Before promptly fixing it in nearly an instant with her skills as a dutiful maid!

Ayaka exhales deeply, any words she had completely fading away in bliss.

These were the kinds of moments Ayaka longed for, to simply share affection with a lover of her own.

It made her feel quite normal as opposed to the prim and proper noblewoman she was forced to be.

(Ayaka) "If I may be selfish for a moment, might I ask for you to continue...?"

She'd be a little embarrassed asking for more, but her shame vanishes the moment she feels their hand on her head again.

Ayaka is too shy to initiate the headpatting on her own, most of the time having her hand almost reach her S/O's head before pulling away last second.

Sara flinches and leans away from S/O on instinct.

(Sara) "What are you-...M-My apologies, I was just not expecting you to..."

Her hand fidgets for a moment before Sara lets out a sigh.

(Sara) "If you wanted to touch my hair, you can just ask."

Now that she was actually ready for S/O, she enjoyed the feeling of their fingers brushing against her hair.

It was relaxing as she let down her guard and enjoyed the physical affection.

Needless to say, Sara absolutely did not want S/O to do this in public.

Seeing Inazuma's general get pat on the head so lovingly would obliterate her image.

Yae smirks as she leans her head closer to them, not saying a word at first.

Her ears twitch for just a moment as she opens her mouth to speak.

(Yae) "Well, does my hair feel nice, S/O?"

And before S/O knows it, her tail wrapped around their waist before bringing them closer and her the back of her head is resting on their lap.

Yae's hand waves nonchalantly, and her tone growing increasingly ever more teasing.

(Yae) "I expect to be pampered properly, S/O. You can't leave a job half-finished after all!"

Now, Yae expects S/O to tend to her hair, in public or private, she doesn't really care.

As long as there were some good reactions from S/O both was fine, though in public tended to provide the funniest result.

...Oh, and their hands did feel nice. But she'd figure it'd be more entertaining to let S/O figure that one out themselves.

Shenhe knows this feeling well.

Cloud Retainer did the same thing whenever she meant to comfort her.

And of course, the feeling is much of the same when S/O does it to her.

WIth zero shame or hesitation, she closes her eyes and the corners of her lips grow into some semblance of a smile.

(Shenhe) "Your hands are soft, S/O...They feel good."

Instead of leaning into them, she grabs their entire arm and has their hand stay stuck in place.

But Shenhe is careful enough to not hurt them during the process.

She opens her eyes and calmly asks them:

(Shenhe) "Can you keep your hand in place for a little longer?"

Xianyun had provided much of the same comfort to all her disciples before.

But never has anyone attempted to pat her head.

So when she feels S/O's hands do the same motion, she is stunned for a few moments.

Clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses, she puts on the best poker face she can.

(Xianyun) "W-Why did you feel the need to rub One's head, One is not feeling upset."

...The blush on her cheeks gave her feelings completely away, if the stutter didn't already do that.

Xianyun is far too proud to admit that headpat made her heart skip, and she would refuse to ever do so.

A mortal patting an Adeptus' head? Absolutely ridiculous!

...She wanted S/O to do that again.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #furina x reader #lynette x reader #arlecchino x reader #chiori genshin impact x reader #lumine x reader #jean gunnhildr x reader #eula x reader #noelle genshin impact x reader #ayaka kamisato x reader #kujou sara x reader #yae miko x reader #shenhe x reader #xianyun x reader #furina genshin #lynette genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #chiori genshin #lumine genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #eula lawrence #noelle genshin impact #ayaka kamisato #kujou sara #yae miko #shenhe genshin impact #xianyun genshin

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

Could you do some ashley sanchez fluff please

craving your warmth | a.sanchez x reader

prompt: ashley just really loves your hands.

author notes: here is a fic for one of my fave white girlies 💗 i was supposed to have been wrote smt for this request but i get so sidetracked so mb gang. hopefully this is to your tastes tho!

contains: ncc!ashley sanchez x goalkeeper!reader, pure fluff like sickening type fluff, implied masc reader but nothing crazy

the sun is starting to come through the blinds as it rises. it's early, way too early for ashley to be awake but her body disagrees with her so here she is; awake on a saturday morning at six am. there is an upside to this annoying situation through. ashley can admire you sleeping so peacefully.

usually when you feel her eyes on you, it's not long until you get all shy and tell her to look away. most of the time instead of looking away, the blonde kisses you to distract but now with you in deep sleep, she can happily stare.

she shifts closer so that her hand can trace over your features. first, pushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over your face. she's close enough that she can smell your shampoo. the smell can't exactly be described but all ashley can call it is soft. very soft. then she moves on to your eyebrows then your eyes then your nose. finally her hand lands on your lips. again all ashley can describe them as is soft.

they're soft to touch and even softer to kiss. she really loves your lips. if someone asked her what is her favorite feature of yours it would have been your lips one hundred percent.

would have.

however, lately she's been falling in love with a different feature of yours. one that's not even on your face; your hands. it wasn't until recently that the blonde really started to pay attention to your hands. of course it wasn't like she just didn't notice them before, but she was too focused on your lips and gorgeous eyes and soft hair so yeah your hands weren't her main obsession.

your hands are slightly rough. mostly from wearing your goalkeeper gloves for hours each week and your workout regimen. they're bigger than ashley's as well. big enough that you can hold her wrists in one hand effortlessly. and with how warm your body is all the time, your hands are like her personal gloves.

ashley moves her hand down to where yours are on the pillow. you're resting your face against it, making your cheek squished in such a cute way it makes ashley smile. she starts to trace over your fingers. avoiding your face to not disturb you, but apparently that wasn't good enough as you start to shift and grumble in your sleep. probably due to how her light touches feel sorta ticklish.

"babe..?" you mumble out. your eyes are still closed, but you move your hand to hold onto hers.

"yeah?" the soccer player accepts your embrace easily. letting out a soft hum of content.

you don't reply to her for a few minutes. obviously slowly dozing right back off. you two didn't have anything planned for today. no practice or games or promotional shoots to get to, so today is a completely free day. a day just for you and ashley to laze around.

finally you speak, saying, "let's sleep in?"

the way your sleepy voice sounds almost makes ashley's heart burst. it's raspier then your voice usually is and a little whiny. a perfect mix.

"mhm, let's sleep in," she agrees. when she confirms what you already knew she would say yes to, you move to pull her close (well, closer) by her waist. your hand covering a good amount of the skin there. as you pull her into your arms, ashley feels grounded like how she always does when she's in your arms.

you pull her right into your chest. basically laying half of your body over her. ashley is definitely going to tease you about this later even though she enjoys the weight in reality.

the blonde whispers out a sleep well, feeling herself already getting sleepy. however you were already asleep again. way more tired than she was.

ashley absolutely hates being injured. it wasn't anything major, just a sprained ankle, but still she couldn't play or even train yet. all the blonde can do is sit on the sidelines at practice with a pout on her lips. one that you found really adorable, but at the same time made your heart break. knowing how badly ashley wanted to get out on the field.

the good thing about being essentially a bench warmer at practice was that she could check you out freely. if one of your other teammates pointed it out, ashley would just yell at them to focus on their exercises instead of what her eyes are looking at.

you obviously noticed how the blonde has been staring at you every single day she's been out and sitting in the empty stands at practice. maybe you have been going a little harder in training just to impress her. it wasn't like she didn't enjoy it. instead she awarded your efforts with that dazzling smile of hers and many, many kisses once you two got to the car.

she loved when you ran suicides. how good your calves and thighs look as you run could be plastered across a build board somewhere in ashley's opinion. when you save a goal and have that smug smile on your face afterwards will always do something to her. however, her favorite part of everything is after you save a goal and proceed to throw the ball back to whatever striker you were practicing with.

the way you always smile before doing that, the pure force you put behind the throw. ashley knows from personal experience strength is behind those hands and arms of yours.

she can't take her eyes off of you when you throw the ball back, she just can't. seeing the way your hand grips onto the ball reminds her of how you hold onto her. she's so focused on you that she doesn't realize that a soccer ball is flying at her.

"look around instead of checking out your girlfriend!" feli shouts, laughing loudly once ashley throws the ball back. obviously the german dodges it. sticking her tongue out after grabbing the ball and starting to move away to get back to practice.

the commotion is able to grab your attention. a teasing smile sits on your lips as you walk over to where ashley is sitting. she lets out a soft groan at seeing your approaching figure. already knowing what you are about to say.

"so you were checking me out, huh?"

most people wouldn't think that ashley's love language is physical touch. she seems like someone who would enjoy acts of services or affirmations, which she does, but not as much as she enjoys physical touch. in her last relationship, she didn't care for it much but that changed with you.

you didn't exactly push her into it but with how affectionate you are, naturally she started to crave it.

ashley's favorite type of affectionate lately is hand holding. no surprise to you with how fixated she is on that part of your body currently. you caught her on enough occasions looking at your hands to get an idea of how much she likes them.

right now, she's pulling you along as you two walk around in sephora. ashley is trying to convince you to let her do your makeup and you aren't as keen on that as she is.

"babe, everyone does it at least once. i seen it all over tiktok," she half reasons, half whines as you two stop infront of the lipsticks.

"that's cute, really, but babe.. i just don't think it's for me," you argue back. barely as you see how her eyes light up seeing the different shades of lipstick sitting on the shelves. okay, maybe you can try it just this once.

when ashley starts one of her rambles about how you would look adorable in makeup, you let go of her hand to look more closely at the different lipsticks. while you are busy looking at what shade you want, ashley slowly realizing she doesn't have the warmth of your hand on hers.

she blinks and realizes that wait, you aren't holding her hand.

"babeee," the blonde frowns at you. holding her hand out at you. a giggle leaves you as you turn to see her hand just out, waiting for yours. the urge in you to tease her is strong but instead you stand. interlocking your hand with hers.

"happy now?" you say playfully. pecking her forehead. the blonde accepts your affection happily, pulling you closer so that you two can look at the lipsticks together.

she picks up a pink lipstick before smiling at you, "ecstatic."

author notes: and finally i have a request done, yippie for me. this is really cute like im about to throw up but i love it 🩷

© THINKINGABOUTJAEDYN

#ashley sanchez x reader #ashley sanchez #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #woso fluff #woso fanfics

[joonieskinks]

johnny!soulmate au where you see grey your whole lives, right up until you first make eye contact with your soulmate - then suddenly the floodgates of colours finally begin to appear.

Johnny was still a Private in the military when you joined up to aid those injured, you eventually earned quite a name for yourself as a nurse on bases. You even got to pick after a couple years and settled on Captain Price’s base after helping him a few years back. He was always kind to you and so you figured, maybe his men would be too.

Johnny then became a Sergeant with the 141, Graves was still in full swing when Johnny received a nasty shot to the shoulder. Upon his return to base, he was quickly transported over to your station for aid. He was laid down in a bed, given injections for the pain, his shirt cut off, leaving his chest bare. You opened the curtain to see your patient squeezing his eyes shut in pain as the injection punctured his skin.

“Hi, Sergeant. I’m nurse y/n, I’ll be taking care of you. Gonna get that bullet out and get you all sewed up, okay?” You introduced, eyes glancing over his vitals.

“Aye, got it lass.” He murmured, finally relaxing in the bed as the painkillers started to kick in. Your eyes finally landed on him, his wound but also his figure. Sure, you see a lot of guys like this but you couldn’t help but look just a little bit longer than usual. Even like this, you think he looks rather good. It makes your insides flip inside you at the thought.

“Right-“ you start and settle down on a stool next to his shoulder. “Those painkillers should be working overtime now, but let me know if it gets to be too much.”

For the first time Johnny looks to the side, eyeing who is actually aiding him. And he’s met with the prettiest woman he’s ever seen in his life. The way your hair frames your face, your kind eyes and beautifully shaped lips- ones he’d very much like to kiss for all your help. You’re stunning and definitely his type, it makes his heart rate rise.

“Easy there, Sergeant. You’re in good hands, I promise.” You pause from tending to his bullet wound to lay your hands on his chest. Your eyes glance over his blushing face, and you smile a little. He’s definitely handsome, your type too.

Johnny’s eyes glance up to meet your own, desperate to recover and say something smooth- but he’s at a complete loss for words as your eyes stand out in the most peculiar way. They look different, they are vivid, clear and coloured.

“Bonnie…” he mutters out, rising up out of bed to look at you closer, and you’re unmoving. In shock, unable to look away from the man in front of you, as his eyes turn blue, as his hair turns brown, as your whole world springs to life.

“Are you…?” You trail off, taking your gloves off to touch his face. Johnny brings his hand up to yours to cup your cheek, tears starting to swell in his eyes.

“I finally found ye.” He chuckles, swiping his thumb lovingly over your cheek over and over. His eyes running all over your features, taking you in, smiling like crazy. “And yer gorgeous too! I’ll be damned.”

You laugh at the flattery, tears starting to leave your own eyes. You can’t wait any longer and bring your lips to meet his. Johnny wastes no time wrapping his arms around you, a hand on your waist and another on the back of your neck. God, you feel good, how he couldn’t wait to explore all of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Sergeant.” You murmur against his lips.

“As much as I like that, lass, the names’ Johnny.” He smiles, bringing his lips back to yours.

Honestly if he had it his way, he’d already have you naked in this station, moaning his name. But alas, you’ll have to reign him in so it seems- and finish sewing his wound shut for crying out loud.

#sorry for the crappy accent lol #joonieskinks #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap x you #cod mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod imagine #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #neil ellice #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x y/n #soap soulmate au #cod soulmate au #soulmate au

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I rewatched your short about the superhero skin for jayce, and you bringing up iconic hero designs got me curious as to what your thoughts are about the character designs in something like my hero academia

(specifically I was thinking about all might but that might have something to do with the fact he’s probably my favorite)

I mean honestly, if I have a criticism of All Might it's that he sort of has the Superhero Jayce problem that his costume is more designed to be a visual parody/homage to western superhero costumes than it is designed to be All Might's costume.

So you've got the so-tight-you-can-count-his-abs spandex, the Superhero Boots, the bold colors, and visual signifiers of American-ness from his blonde hair and tanned skin to the red white and blue primary colors in his costume, right?

So all of this says to me "THIS IS AN AMERICAN SUPERHERO ARCHETYPE WHO IS AMERICAN FROM THE USA HOWDY HOWDY BANG BANG GUNS HOT DOGS AND OIL WARS", but what I feel is missing are all the themes and ideas that are specific to Toshinori - wanting to be a symbol of hope, a promise of a better tomorrow, the heroic spirit of being of service to other people... that's all a bit absent.

Those things come through way better in his depowered, emaciated form, and the ways that the contrast between the two is employed. It highlights the artifice and fragility of hero society, something which the story... well I've not read it since the raid on Chisaki's base so I dunno how well it's executed on the theme, but the story certainly seemed to have ambitions address the fakeness and fragility of the system of celebrity superheroes as "keepers of the peace" and All Might's two forms do a good job embodying the duality of that.

Hero society creates villains, there's a corrupting rot at the heart of it, and it's eating the symbol of peace from the inside out, and the "Symbol of Peace" is ultimately a false front projected by someone who cannot possibly sustain it. All of that works very well.

But his costume specifically? Eeeh. It doesn't really feel like a costume that was designed to be an iconic representation of the hero himself (think Super-Man's S, Spider-Man's webbed suit, Batman's black cowl and glowing eyes, etc), so much as a very broad, vague thematic statement for the story itself to work around - which is a perfectly good use of a character design, I just don't think it expresses the character wearing it as much as good superhero costumes usually do.

Again, I've not read MHA for a long time, so take my criticisms with a grain of salt, I might have a completely different take if I re-read it.

#tb answers #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #all might #yagi toshinori

[calaisreno]

Sixth Sense

885 Words / Prompt: Intuition

Molly notices. 

She’s not really a friend of John’s. They're friendly, but she never has much to say to him. He’s kind to her, and probably aware of how she felt about Sherlock. 

As one of the few who knows Sherlock is alive, she has a terrible advantage over John Watson. Not the one she used to wish for. 

They met in her lab, when Mike Stamford came looking for Sherlock, to introduce him to John. Well, nobody introduced her. Sherlock was fixated on her lipstick for some reason. She remembers John’s eyes on her, then turning to focus on Sherlock. That was the day she finally figured out that Sherlock wasn’t interested in her. In time, her crushing disappointment was lessened by the realisation that he was gay. It wouldn’t have mattered what shade of lipstick she wore or however many coffees she brought him; he would never look at her the way he looked at John.

At first she thought John was straight. After her blunder with Jim from IT (who turned out to be not only gay, but also a criminal) she consulted her friend Jasper, another gay man. “How can you tell?”

Asking this, she wasn’t thinking about Sherlock, or even Jim. What she was wondering about was John, who sometimes looked at Sherlock as if he’d hung the moon, but still dated ridiculous women. 

Of course men have different taste in women, just as women prefer certain types of men. She was attracted to men like Sherlock— tall, pale, Byronic hair, blindingly intelligent. Men who entered rooms with a swirl, who spoke with voices that made her shiver. They were hard to find, and to expect such a man also to be kind, romantic, and not gay was apparently too much. 

John dated women who were a bit out of reach. Taller women, confident women, the kind who didn’t need the right lipstick to be noticed. The kind who didn’t own three cats and spend the holidays with their ageing mother. These unobtainable women never lasted more than two dates. And he never seemed to mind.

John is not Molly’s type. She appreciates his abilities as a doctor. He has the right manner with Sherlock, a bit snarky, but not mean. He’s not tall, not gracefully slender. He has a temper. He’s blond and a bit sweary, good-looking in an average way, an ordinary bloke who goes out for pints with people like Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford. 

She’d barely noticed him that day in the lab. He’s a man who doesn’t stand out, who completely disappears in the shadow of a man like Sherlock.

John and she are that awkward thing: friends of friends. He would never introduce her as, my friend, Molly. It would be Sherlock’s friend, Molly. If he asked a favour of her, she would do it because Sherlock would appreciate it, not because she feels any obligation to John.

She doesn’t hate him, or wish anything bad on him. She might have felt jealous for a few days, simply because Sherlock never forgets John the way he forgets about her the minute she’s out of his sight. 

She noticed him watching John, usually when he wasn’t looking. He looked sad. And she thought, I know what that feels like.

The memory of that look weighs on her, weeks after Sherlock’s funeral. A hard day, that was, sitting in a pew trying to fake sadness as she watched others grieve.

As she watched John grieve. 

What does it mean that John Watson looks like he’s lost everything? She sees him at the hospital sometimes, his hooded gaze avoiding the eyes of others, his psychosomatic limp making him wince with pain. 

She can’t say what it is that tells her. Maybe she’s just practiced for so long on other men that she’s developed a sixth sense about it. 

John loved Sherlock— not just as a friend. And he’s probably just now realising that. She supposes that quite a few men dismiss those feelings of attraction. Jasper says, all men are gay, potentially. It’s just easier to stay in the closet.

There are various reasons for that, and she doesn’t want to speculate what John’s are, but she observes his grief, and knows regret is a large part of that. 

Sherlock will be back, someday. He wasn’t very clear about when. Six months, maybe a year. But she thinks he’s being optimistic; he wants to come home to John, not leave him to grieve for years. 

And by the time he does make it back, John will have found another woman. Blonde and pretty. Nothing like the dark beauties he used to date. But still, clever like Sherlock, a bit imperious and demanding. He will look at her the way Sherlock always looked at him, when he didn’t notice. 

She could tell him. There’s only her promise to stop her from doing that. Could John keep the secret? Sherlock told her not knowing will keep him alive, that knowing would put him in danger.

She’s not in danger. Nobody thinks she mattered that much to Sherlock. Her feigned grief is taken as real, but everybody knows she’ll get over it. Just a crush.

As for John Watson, this might just kill him. 

That’s a problem she could solve. 

#mayprompts2024 #POV Molly Hooper #sixth sense

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Against the wall

05/24/2024

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,917

Warnings: rpf, alcohol, pining, naughty thoughts, fluff

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a room full of people to figure out you want nothing more than to be alone with that one person.

A/N: Guys, this was written in a fevered frenzy. Haven't felt the muse in months and don't know whether she did a good job, but I am so happy she is not dead.

Picture is a screen cap from this video

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you enjoy my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She had forgotten how much she loathed being in a room full of people. Maybe it was a condition that came with age, to appreciate silence and solitude, or maybe, just maybe, it was entirely his fault. 

Her back leaning against the wall, his hand was splayed out right next to her head, supporting the weight of his body as he leant in slightly so he could focus on her voice above the noise of the bustling room. He had never been this close to her, so close she could smell the intoxication scent of his body, and in an instant the chatter was drowned out by the wild drum of her heart, which in turn made it one of the most challenging tasks she had ever had to face to string her words together into meaningful sentences. 

But it seemed she had somehow succeeded, against all odds, as he turned his head to look at her, his face so close now that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. And as if that had not been enough to clear every coherent thought from her head, he chose to turn his lips up into the most dazzling smile upon her silly joke. 

It made her dizzy, combined with the sparkle in his eyes it was an almost deadly combination, impossible to resist. It had captured her completely. He had captured her completely, occupied her every thought in a way that was bordering on concerning, for her sanity, maybe even for the idea of feminism she lived by, but even more so for the very essence of her existence. 

She had seen it all so clearly, a happy future, no one to bother her, especially no man to cause her even more worries than she already had. Just her, the path in front of her clearly mapped out. And then he had crossed her way, and it had dawned on her that what she had deemed the perfect life would seem like nothing but a cheap substitute next to a life with him. Certainly, she could still be happy without him—if she needed to. 

The problem was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live a life without the sound of his laughter, without his twisted sense of humour and the way he looked at her when they were engaged in a conversation, as if there was no one else in this world, as if it was only him and her. He made her feel secure in a way no one ever had. When he entered the room, she could feel her shoulders relax, her breath going more easily and the galloping of her heart slowing in pace. And when she talked to him, it was as if she had never done anything else in her entire life. There was nothing of the usual unease or urge to appeal between them that might, under different circumstances or with a different man, lead her to a point at which she had either moulded herself into a completely different person or where everything meaningful she had wanted to say and that had been phrased so clearly in her head became lost somewhere on the way from her brain to her mouth. With him though, she could just be herself, safe in the knowledge that he would not judge or tire of her at some point. 

If only she knew with the same certainty if he felt the same. Obviously he did enjoy talking to her as well, or he wouldn’t be standing here right now, choosing to talk to her when he had a room full of people to choose from. But did he also hang on her lips like she did on his? Did he also wonder if they were just as soft as he imagined them to be? And would he like her to step closer, or pull him closer to her instead? And when her hand rested against his chest then, would she feel the same thunderous beat that drummed behind her own ribs? Would it start to flutter as soon as their lips met and refuse to fall back into its regular rhythm until their bodies lay sweaty and spent, their desire finally sated? And in their blissed out state, would he hold her? Would he pull her that impossible inch closer and press the softest of kisses to her forehead, telling her all she needed to know without uttering a single word? Would he still be there in the morning to see her tousled hair and sleep-wrinkled face and look at her with the same affection she thought to find in his gaze right now? Would he—

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His back still turned on the intruder, he gave her the most dramatic roll of his eyes she had ever seen, making it very hard for her to hide a snicker. “Come, there is someone I need you to meet.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to do whatever it took to keep him close, but before her brain had even been able to form a protest, he was being dragged away from her, his lips forming a silent apology. 

This social engagement was tedious. The thought came as somewhat of a surprise to him. There had been a time when he had truly enjoyed this kind of event, but tonight something just was not right about this party. Well, not ‘something’ as in an unknown factor that made this party different from other parties. It was not unknown to him at all. In fact, this evening had been perfectly enjoyable up until that moment he had been so rudely separated from her. 

She was still leaning casually against that wall, the only difference being that he was too far away from her now. To be fair, any distance that exceeded an arm’s length was too far for his taste. She on the other hand did not seem to mind his absence much, as someone else had already taken his place by her side to engage her in what appeared to be a most entertaining conversation. Not one glance did she spare him, while all he could focus on was the ludicrous attempt to will himself back into his old position, close to her. So close that her breath would waft across his neck again as she spoke, the heat of her body crawling over his skin. Maybe her hand would find him by accident—or intentionally, which would be all the better. After a moment he would return the favour, finally giving in to his longing to feel the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips.

Instead all he could feel was his mouth opening as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of champagne. Would he be able to taste it on her tongue if she allowed him to kiss her? He almost hoped he would not be, because what he really desired to taste was her, the exquisite, singular flavour only she possessed. 

And still, that would not nearly be enough to sate his hunger. He wanted to taste all of her. Her lips, her skin, the moist heat at the apex of her thighs. He wanted her so much he could feel his mouth drying up upon the ardor of his wish, no, need for her.

What would it be like to have her? He had imagined it a thousand times over and yet there were so many questions still left unanswered. Would she voice her pleasure or enjoy in silence? Was it her wish to be the director of their passion play or did she want him to lead the way? Would his name glide over her lips in a soft moan or would she scream in ecstasy when they had finally reached the peak? Would she stay serious, caught up in desire, all the way through or would there be giggles and laughter? And what then, after they had given themselves to each other completely? Would she leave, seeing this as an experience best enjoyed once only? Or would she stay, her naked body resting against his in peaceful slumber, and allow real intimacy to begin? 

If it were his choice to make, he would know exactly what to choose. But he could not blame her if she opted for something different. Commitment was tough, and there had been times when he had thought that he, like so many others, was simply not built for it. But watching her now, he could not recall how he had ever been this blind about himself in the first place. 

It had been strange at first, that sense of belonging that always befell him when she was around, completely unexpected. But ever since he had felt it for the first time and realised its true meaning, it was as if he had discovered a law of nature, complex and yet so easy to understand, as if it had always been an inherent part of him.

Once again, the dryness he had felt earlier returned to his mouth, more demanding this time, until it had managed to push every other thought aside for a moment. Instinctively he set the glass to his lips, his eyes not once leaving her until he had lifted the bottom high enough to block his view. It had only been for the blink of an eye, but now he found himself almost choking on his final gulp when his eyes returned to find her spot against the wall empty all of a sudden.

Leaving without a goodbye was childish, she knew, but she just could not shake this nagging feeling that had befallen her out of the blue, that being in the same room with him without talking  to him or being able to at least be near him without looking as if she was running after him like a duckling was far worse than not being here at all. 

With a sigh she set down the glass on an empty table she passed on her way to the exit. What a waste, as it was almost half-full, but somehow it did not taste quite right, and so she left the rest of her drink behind, like the dream that she would ever be to him what he was to her. 

It was dark as she entered the hallway and the air felt uncomfortably cool in contrast to the air inside that had been heated by all those bodies. Their chatter was still following her now, echoing from the walls left and right. 

It must have obscured the noise of his steps, or maybe they had not made any sound at all. Otherwise she would have recognised their rhythm from a mile away. But instead, she only realised that he was there as his warm hand closed around her wrist and gently brought her to a stop. And despite the fact that she had halted her steps almost instantly, she had not expected him to be this close now as she turned, so close that she could see the startled expression of her eyes reflected in his own. So dark, so green. 

He did not utter a single word. He did not have to. She knew when his grip on her loosened and his fingers softly glided between hers. She smiled, and so did he. And then, slowly, they began to walk.

taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier rpf #against the wall

[reiderwriter]

Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory

Chapter Three of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Your mounting attraction to Spencer Reid pushes you to the edge, turning begrudging friendship to deep hatred when he finally shows up on your doorstep. He's the only thing that can out you out of your misery even as you sink further into it.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, hate sex, rough sex, argument as foreplay, oral (f recieving) and face fucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasms, "forced" submission, creampie, p in v penetrative sex, etc.

A/N: I've had about as much sleep as the reader in this fic has for the last week, but HERE IT IS! Chapter Three 🥰 You may need a bottle of water on standby, or at least a hand fan, because this one gets a bit heated....

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist!

You hesitated in front of your office door, which you supposed was going to become a bad habit of yours now. You tried lying to yourself, that nothing was different now, that you weren't attracted to him in a completely stupid way, but you still stood frozen in front of your own office door. 

Frozen and horny. 

Shit. 

You mentally went through a list of the worst things that could happen if you went in. 

1. He was there. 

2. He wasn't there. 

3. He was there, and he touched you again, and you moaned. 

4. He was there, and he didn't touch you again, but you still moaned. 

5. He was there, and you threw yourself at him immediately because why wouldn't you when you'd seen what you could be working with the night before? Fuck moaning once, moaning multiple times as he pushed you against the bookshelf would- 

“Are you gonna go in, or are you just going to fondle the door handle?” He asked from behind you. From too close behind you. 

You turned, keeping the doorknob in your grin, and immediately flattened yourself against the door as he took a step closer. 

So close. He was so fucking close and it was suddenly all you could think of. 

“W-What?”

“You know, the CDC warns that door handles should be washed every 20 to 40 hours To prevent bacteria like Escherchia coli and Staphylococcus aureus from-” You ignored his words, drowning everything else out as you tried to dampen the fire burning under your skin.

“Cock?” You said, all attempts obviously not working. 

“Staphylococcus, yes. It can cause Adenovirus, Rhinovirus, not to mention-” 

“Okay! Okay, Spencer. Taking my hand off the handle now.” 

Finally, you twisted it and walked backwards into your room, walking backwards a few steps before your foot caught on a stray pile of books. 

“What the-” you cried, waiting for the impact of your landing as you swung out your arms frantically for purchase, screwing your eyes shut as you found none. 

Instead, you found an arm snaked around your waist, another wrapping your hip tight as Spencer Reid cradled your body to his own. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out, not even hearing the words yourself for how much air was in them. How was it possible to expel air and hold your breath at the same time? Because that was how it felt being in his arms: at once a sigh and a stopping of all bodily functions barring want. 

“I thought this was your office, Y/N. Surely you should know the layout by now.”

Moment over. You pushed at his chest to stand upright, and he stepped backwards, removing his hands from your person. 

“Very funny. We both know these are your books. Setting traps for me now, Spencer?” 

You moved around the piles of books again as he flicked the light switch, moving the opposite way around your desks, before meeting you again next to yours. 

“You're usually more observant than this. Is there something wrong today?” 

“What, like Adenovirus or Rhinovirus?” 

“No, like something…” he searched for the right words, pace slowing as he tried not to scare you away by talking with you like this.

“Like something on your mind.” 

You snorted, leaning down to switch on your computer, and also to avoid his eye contact. Unfortunately, academic curiosity had gotten to you in the last few weeks, and you'd read some of his psychological papers. You knew exactly what it was the BAU was apparently so good at, and you didn't want him to know that you'd imagined him balls deep in you hours before. 

“Not friends, Spencer. If there's something I need to talk about, I'll talk to a friend,” you said, standing straight again and turning to him again. You still avoided eye contact, but it didn't matter. His eyes weren't on your face but angled further down, like he'd been checking out your ass as you bent over or something. 

No. No, you weren't going down that train of thought. 

“Or even better, my therapist.” You were planning on the words being a bit more playful, but your voice came out deeper than you expected it, more gravely somehow. 

Your bedroom voice, you were using your stupid fucking bedroom voice on Spencer Reid. 

You cut yourself off again before you said anything else. Before he touched you or didn't touch you, and you got to test your earlier theory about which would be the more demeaning reaction. 

“I have class in ten. Clean up before I get back,” you ordered, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when he replied. 

“I don't take direction well, Y/N.” 

No, you didn't think he would. Neither did you though.

For a week, you tiptoed around the man, your words sharp, but your body weak to him. 

By day, you were hurling insults back and forth, messing up his papers and screwing with him via bookshelf again. 

“YOUR…FLY…IS….OPEN.” 

“VERY….MATURE.”

“MADE…YOU…LOOK…THOUGH.”

“BUSY….LOOKING…AT…OTHER….THINGS.”

“LIKE…THE…UNDERGRADS…THROWING…THEMSELVES…AT…YOU…?”

“LIKE…THE…PROFESSOR…I'M APPARENTLY…DATING” 

“Very fucking funny, Spencer,” you sighed at the last message, throwing the books off the shelf and pilling them up on the floor. 

“Don't even for a second entertain the idea of making that gossip a reality.” 

He grinned at you from behind his desk. 

“Okay.”

“Don't even - don't even think about it,” you said, stepping over his desk and poking at his chest as his smile deepened.

“Heard.” 

“I'm serious, Spencer, don't-” 

“You've thought about it.” You froze in shock at his words, as if your blood wasn't sure whether to run cold or burn hot and fast. 

“What?” You spat the words at him, unable to stop them coming out any other way. 

“You've thought about entertaining the gossip. You've thought about it a lot.” 

You needed to deny him, but he was right. By day, you tried to torment him, but by night, he did torment you. A week of wet dreams, of imagining him taking you over every inch of your office, of sleepless rest and failed orgams, and you could not escape. 

“No,” you said with a whisper, shaking your head and trying again even as your voice cracked from the lie and your body's cry for pleasure, for this man. 

“No, I haven’t- I don't-” You took a deep breath, but you knew it was no good, as his hand grabbed yours and flattened it against his chest. 

“Your pupils are dilated, your pulse is heightened, and your legs are practically clamped shut. Your mouth is dry, and I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, Y/N, but you're shaking.” 

“All signs of anger, Spencer, as you're well aware.” 

He let go of your wrist and sat back in his seat, just out of reach of you again. 

“Shame,” he whispered under his breath, nearly low enough that you didn't catch it, as he flipped open his book and continued whatever the fuck it was he even did in this office. 

You ignored it, anger really flooding you now, warring the heat of arousal that was firmly settled in your body for dominance. 

The anger won out. 

You grabbed books from your desk, files, and papers from the side table by the couch and your laptop from your desk and left the room quickly. 

You slammed the door, and you didn't look back, knowing that if you did, you'd see his winning smirk staring right back at you.

You marched yourself right to the staff administration office and put in for a week of leave. Spencer had one more week of work at the university, and then he would go back to being a regular FBI agent. 

Your paths wouldn't cross because you wouldn't let them cross, not when it meant for certain that you would give in.

You spent the week working to distract yourself from work. You finished books for your next semester courses, highlighting the better articles and essays to use, going through each bibliography to find better sources if they weren't good enough. You wrote more of a research paper you didn't have time to think about with so much going on. You corresponded with students, with TAs, with the other professors who wanted to know where you were. 

Okay, that was a lie. You aired the professors, but you did look out for any inboxes from him. Surprisingly, there were none. 

You spent a week throwing yourself head first into your work, and still, each night, you felt his phantom touch on you. No matter how exhausted, your brain still co jured images of his hands grasping your wrists, pushing them above your head and forcing his cock into you, his lips biting against your skin, the fire of his kisses leaving scars where they trailed down. 

You were running on three hours of sleep per night, sure, but at least you were as far as you could possibly get from the man ruining your life. 

You poured yourself a glass of wine the next Sunday, knowing that when you went back to work the next day, he'd be gone.

You wrapped yourself in blankets and put everything else off for the day, ordering food and eating it and not moving as you worked your way through boxes of pizza. 

It was when you finished your first glass and went to pour yourself another that there was a furious pounding at your door. 

“Y/N, I know you're in there, open the door.” His hand sounded again, and you nearly dropped the glass at the sound of Apencer Reid's voice. 

Your body acted alone, immediately following his directions as you damn near tripped over your own feet to open the door for him. 

Throughout all of your arguments, all of the quips you'd thrown at him, every stupid little thing you'd done to get under his skin, you had not once seen Spencer Reid looking this angry. 

His brow was furrowed uncomfortably, as if it were frozen in place. Gone was his perpetual smirk. 

“Spencer, what the fuck a-” 

“Thoughtless. Careless. Do you even know what you've done?” He snapped at you, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind himself as he immediately walked into your space and began touching things.

“Stop! Fucking stop it, Spencer!” You said grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face you. He brushed you off quickly and worked his way through papers you'd left on your coffee table. 

“No. You stormed out over a week ago, you blocked my number, you did not answer any of my emails-” 

“I didn't get any emails,” you spit back, pushing yourself between him and your things now, bodies so close they were touching. 

“Then you blocked my email, too. You don't even know what I'm looking for or the damage you could have done, do you?” His hands were on you then, not threateningly, as you'd expect, his anger still burning through him if his shaking voice had anything to say for it. 

His hands stroked up your sides and back down again, smoothing away your need to think. 

“My files. My team sent me a file. It was on the coffee table, and you took it with you when you left. The case is ongoing, and I'm flying out tomorrow, and without some of the classified information in that file, we will be at a disadvantage. Our odds of catching our unsub fall from 83% to 47% without all of the pertinent information.” 

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer. 

“So yes, I'm going to go through your things, and if you're a good girl, you'll root through with me and help me find it.” 

He stepped away then, and you held your tongue. As much as you hated him, he was right. You knew what he did, you knew who he was and to trust him not to lie to you about his chances without this information. 

“The files on the coffee table are research notes, everything I took from the office is in that case over there,” you said pointing at a bag still where you'd dropped it by the door a week earlier. 

He walked to it and rooted through it quickly before finding the file he obviously needed and letting some of the tension out of his shoulders. 

“You're probably glad to see the back of me, right?” He said, laughing bitterly as he turned back around to you. 

“Obviously not as happy as you are,” you spat back, stepping back over to him. 

“If you ever speak to me that way again,” you started, spitting at him in the most threatening voice you could muster. “It won't be a fucking unsub that ruins your life.” 

“And how are you going to manage that, Y/N?” He said, stepping closer to you until he had you backed up against the wall, trapped in by his bigger frame, using it to his advantage to intimidate. 

“How will you manage to ruin my life,” he said, his voice softer as he finished his sentence, but not by much. “When you shake with just every time I get close?” 

“This is not lust,” you growled the words out, but try as you damn might, you were shaking, vibrating even. 

“Then what is it?” 

“Hatred, dislike, loathing, detestation, abhorrence, fuck Spencer, you can pick up a thesaurus yourself and find out.”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll believe your lies for a second.” He walked away, he was walking away but the fire was ringing in your ears and you needed him to stay fucking put so he could take it all. 

“You're a jackass.”

“Original.” 

“You slammed into my life, expecting me to bend to your will and be at the mercy of your needs, your wants. Your office space, your fucking case files, your job-” 

“None of that was my choice.” 

“And it wasn't mine either, but at least I fucking left you alone. I spent the week in this apartment and left you the fuck alone, and you couldn't even allow me the same.”

His focus was back on you again, but you refused to be backed against a wall this time. 

“What did you say?” 

“You will not let me know peace. I have lost my security, my patience, my fucking sanity with each word you have said, my peace of mind, my sleep, my fucking sanity, Spencer.” Your chest was heaving, touching his with each exhale as he too held his place in front of you. He was so close, you'd practically spat the words directly into his mouth. 

“How is that my fault?” He whispered, voice still dripping with disdain even as his hands again wrapped themselves in your hair, and he tugged your head back, baring your neck to him as he leaned down into you. 

“How do you know that you're not doing the same to me?” 

You refused to answer, though, meeting his eyes for one last second before you grabbed his hair in your hands and yanked him down to your mouth. 

It wasn't so much a kiss as a battle for dominance, each trying to torture a surrender from the other with clashing tongues and teeth. 

You made the first move, but he was obviously expecting it, and he didn't even pause before launching his own attack, finally pushing past your strong defence to walk you back to the sofa you'd abandoned earlier. 

His tongue still lashed against yours as you retreated, refusing to give up your upper hand even as you moaned into his touch. The couch hit the back of your knees, buckling, and you silently cursed your lack of sleep for leaving you so unstable right now. 

No, that wasn't true. It was him. He had left you so unstable, moving between happy and playful to angry and wrathful in the space of a week without you, and you'd been denying yourself the ability to even entertain any of this happening. Now that it was, your body was unprepared, totally at his mercy, as he pushed you to your back and pushed up your skirt. 

“You're already so fucking wet,” he groaned slipping two fingers inside you as you moaned around him, no longer capable of thought. This was the moment, this was when he was going to make you submit to him finally. 

Instead, he dropped to his knees and you gasped as his to guess found your sweet cunt and he began sucking to your clit. 

You were on fire, skin scorched from the inside out, spreading in waves from your pussy to the furthest regions of your body. 

With one hand, he spread your thighs further apart and pushed his entire face further into your cunt, tongue pushing inside right by his fingers, nose pushed right up against your clit as he didn't relent. Every movement was another curse falling from your mouth. 

“Shit, Spencer, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, hips rocking back and forth as you tried to fuck his face, begging for more. 

To your surprise, he didn't keep your hips still but let you keep riding his face, riding his fingers as you chased your first orgasm.  

It came quickly, overwhelming you with the impact, jolting through your body like a lightning bolt as he let your hips shake and crash across his tongue. 

When he finally pulled his face away, it was glistening, and he wasted no time shoving his tongue back in your mouth. His message was clear - he may have let you take whatever pleasure you'd wanted with him, but he was still the one in control. 

You trailed kisses along his cheeks, neck, shoulders as he divested himself of clothing, shirt, belt, pants, ripping at yours to free your body as well, until the two of you were only left with underwear and you'd picked up every last drop of your cum left on his skin.

“On your back, now,” he said, and you complied. You spread your legs, and rubbed at your still wet cunt, jolting as he finally lined himself up with your cunt. 

But he didn't push in yet. Instead he wrapped two arms under your knees and pulled you closer, so his cock rested over the top of your stomach, and leaned down, his face hovering inches over your own, holding himself up with a forearm rested just above your head. 

“You see that?” He said, glancing down. “That is how much I am going to fill you. That is how deep I am going to ease into you. That is how far I am going to go to claim you. You can take it like a good girl, right?” 

“Just shut up and put your cock inside me, Spencer.” 

“You're so fucking pushy for a submissive little slut,” he said, smiling finally. 

“I am not a-” you started to protest, but he slid inside of your hot cunt and you lost the ability to focus. 

“Not a what, Y/N? Speak up,” thrusting shallowly as your cunt grabbed him and held tight. 

“I'm not a- SPENCER!” You screamed his name as he pulled out quickly, thrusting into you again with a speed and strength that had you wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, fighting for him to stay right there deep inside. 

“Not a sub? Y/N, you're whimpering and drooling right now. You're three seconds away from begging for my cock, why the fuck can you not be honest with yourself?” 

“Fuck…you,” you said between moans as he rutted into you like a beast. He wasn't man anymore, bit monster, and he was claiming you inch by disgustingly perfect inch. 

“Let go. Let me take care of you, let me control you. Come on, baby, you know how good it would feel,” he said, before ducking his head and wrapping his tongue around a nipple. 

You screamed his name again, but you still tried to resist. 

“Come on, Y/N. Show me. Cum on my cock.” 

For a brief moment, you'd thought you'd resisted the demand. But then your brain faded, and your nails cut into his back like daggers as your body followed his commands and you came on his cock for a second time that night. 

“Perfect. One more, you can do one more,” he said, kissing your lips and lifting himself back up so he was sitting on his knees as he again picked up the pace. 

You mumbled his name over and over again as he fucked out all of the frustration in your body. Every thing either of you had said or done melted away in the glow of pleasure, your body buzzing from the feeling of him taking ownership of you. 

“One more, Y/N. One more, you need to cum one more time.”

“I can't, I can't I can't I can't, Spencer I can't I really can't,” you said, voice growing pathetically whiny as the tears sprang to your eyes and you choked back a sob. 

“Yes you can, one more. Together, we can do it together,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him.” 

He claimed your mouth again, his hand wrapping around your throat as he cut off your air supply for a second, then two, then three, as your ears buzzed and you finally slipped over the edge again. 

But this time, as promised, you weren't the only one caught in the pain of pleasure. Spencer collapsed on top of you as his dick spurted inside you, holding you close as he unloaded everything he had into you. 

He sat there, warming his cock as he lazily kissed open mouth kisses into every inch of your shoulders, collar bone and chest. Everywhere he could reach without pulling out of you and leaving you there. 

After weeks of no sleep because of him, it was his soft lips that finally enticed you into the hands of the sandman, his weight a comfort as you closed your eyes. 

When you woke in your bed, clean and clothed, he was gone, and so was every sign that he'd ever been there in the first place. 

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Yesterday watched Civil War 2024 at the movies (had to leave early was disturbing AF 😳) How about Konig x war photographer! Reader? Pls

(My flashbacks from the military correspondence training) You're a pretty, bright-eyed thing with a big camera in that dumb bulletproof case and a death wish written all over your face. Who else would get into KorTac's missions on their own free will - and without a magazine or even a tiny online journal to back her findings? You're only here because the mercenary group needs some good PR after the latest scandals and also because you're fine with sleeping in barracks, remaining completely neutral to all the shit they are doing, and working for food. You were also fine with working under Konig, which was the main selling point. Now, whether or not Konig is fine with working with you, is a different question. Somehow, his annoyance at the presence of a reporter during some greasly missions turned into curiosity. Curiosity then turned into acceptance which later leaked into affection, drop by drop...and then he found himself staring at your ass whenever you would jump out of fortification to make some photos, and he'd haul you back on his shoulder, keeping a hand just above your hip, squeezing whenever you'd try to squirm away. Konig never lets you take his pictures - but you can sometimes sneak a peek with his back turned to the camera, the carnage as a backdrop for his muscular figure. You wouldn't say he is your muse - but his figure, wrapped in dark uniform and a hood dropped over his head, is somehow inspiring you more than usual theatre of battlefield. Konig hates the way you always jump into the midst of action like you're an actual soldier instead of a weakling with camera - so he is dragging you back to the barracks, intending to teach you a very important lesson about obedience...even if he is not technically your colonel.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod