#i love him still so much he's so messed up and i hope he comes back to spe. where's dexholder reunion 2

[runa-falls]

what a mess~

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader cw: smut, established relationship, superhuman stamina, overstimulation, cum EVERYWHERE, 'use a condom, it's too messy X(', 'bitch stfu i'll show you messy'..., so many sheets, reader is a pushover (bc I WOULD BE TOO) wc: 1k + a/n: i um... just take this and I'll go to a corner of a room and think ab what I've done.

---

Having a superhero boyfriend is great – he gets you discounts at your favorite restaurant, he easily carries you home after a long night out at the bar, he saves you from getting kidnapped by his arch-nemesis for the fourth time this month (though isn’t that his fault in the first place?....) – but there are aspects of the relationship that you didn’t consider before. 

Apparently, with great power comes great… stamina. 

To put it plainly, Miguel’s (sex) drive is unheard of. You better clear out your schedule for the whole day because he can go for hours. And most nights, you can barely sit up after he fucks you.

You like that – or you did when you could afford to be sore every other day. You like how enthusiastic he is – how much he wants you. It makes you feel desired and beautiful. But it’s not just the intense workout you risk every time you steal a kiss that turns into more – it’s the number of times he can…finish. 

Every time you think he’s finished, he’s still hard and thrusting into you, overstimulating you until black stars start to fill your vision. 

It’s a mess in the end. 

You lay on top of him, filled to the brim, dripping all over his lower stomach and onto the sheets under you, breathing so hard you’re sure you’d rupture a lung. You feel like you’re barely conscious on the bed as your heart beats harshly against your chest from how hard you came. Hair sticks graciously against your forehead as your eyes struggle to stay open to see Miguel, who gently pulls out and watches his mess spill out of you. 

He whispers sweetly of how well you took him, how pretty you look all fucked out, how much he loves that he can turn you into a blabbering – mindless whore. Being the possessive man he is, he attempts to shove it back in, using two of his thick fingers to gather and push his essence back into you, hoping that, against all odds, it’ll take, despite the fact you take your birth control religiously. 

Of course, when he sees how your thighs shake and squeeze around his hand from the overstimulation of him fucking his fingers into you after you just came, he immediately gets hard again. 

He gazes down at you with apologetic red eyes as he bites his lip under a sharp fang, “I can’t help it when I see how wrecked your pussy is for me…”

It’s nice – it’s hot – but you end up having to change the sheets 5 times a week. He’s insatiable… well ok, you’re just as thirsty as your boyfriend, but the amount of maintenance you need for each session is ridiculous. You basically gave up washing your sheets after every fuck, and instead ordered several identical sets of bedding to make the process easier. 

Many sheets have been destroyed beyond recognition. Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but the amount of cum-stained sheets in your linen closet is insane. How are you supposed to hide this if you were to have guests over?!

After staring at the layers of folded-up and stained sheets that you’ve accumulated over the past few months, you decided you were going to do something about it. 

You can still have fun without the mess.

…right?

—

Miguel has you on your back at the end of the bed with your legs resting on the crook of his arms. You have on a cute little nightgown – white to symbolize purity (though what you were about to do was far from pure) – with nothing underneath. It was one you bought just to get a reaction out of him – and now you got it. 

He holds you open for him, regarding you like he would a special gift – though there’s nothing to really celebrate (unless you count his raging erection). He breathes harshly against your neck as he paints your skin with kisses and nips. You’re nearly folded in half with how closely he’s pushed against you, but you can barely recognize the mere tinge of soreness in your legs with how fluidly pleasure seems to travel from his lips down to the apex of your thighs. 

Miguel O’Hara, the strong, independent Spider-Man, is truly a mess in front of you. His once neatly ironed tie now hangs loosely around his neck, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and his hair a tangle of unruly curls. His fingers, now caressing your body, are already dripping in your slick from when he forced a couple of orgasms out of you right when he got home. 

You find a sense of satisfaction in the disheveled state of his appearance, relishing how his once meticulously groomed demeanor has been disrupted – how his eyes transition from their usual chocolatey brown to a striking blood red, how his lips swell sweetly with lust. 

Miguel groans deeply as he grinds his clothed hardness against your wet center, “Mm…I want you so bad.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants, sighing as he releases himself from the tight fabric. No underwear? 

“Wait, Mig." he pauses his movements, waiting patiently – prepared to do whatever you want. “Get a condom.” …Except maybe…that. 

“Condom?” He could barely hold back his sneer, but you could faintly hear the growl vibrate from his chest. 

“Mhm, we’ve been too messy lately. We can’t just keep buying new sheets every week!”

“...We could…”

“Miguel!”

“I don’t see what the problem is… this is just how it is.”

“But it’s too messy.”

“I thought my baby likes to be filled up…”

“...I-I mean, I do sometimes, but –”

“Don’t you like it when I get you all messy?” He leans in close, distracting you from denying him. “Have you dripping with me for days?” He presses closer, and you can feel his hard cock slip against your wetness, dragging against your sensitive clit. 

“Miguel.” You whine.

It’s so hard to deny this man.

“How about we just try to be more careful, hm?” He presses against you gently, nearly entering you, but not quite. It feels so good, the tip of him barely stretching past your entrance. 

“Okay…j-just this once though…” You surrender with a whisper.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

[faetreides]

- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #challengers #challengers fanfiction #challengers smut #challengers movie #challengers film #challengers fic #challengers x you #challengers imagine #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig imagine #josh o’connor challengers #josh o’connor #josh o’connor x reader #patrick zweig challengers #josh o connor x you #josh o connor x reader #josh o connor #josh o’connor smut #⚰️.deaddove #ish #challengers 2024

[fishermanshook]

ASK: Hi:) if you feel like it how do you think ganji norton and naib would react to reader saying they feel safe with them?

“TRUST IN ME!”

( batter , prospector & mercenary ) + gn!reader

occ , angst in naib & ganji’s part , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

To fall in love is a risk not all are willing to take. Putting your heart on the line could result in rejection and heartache instead of love and happiness.

To fall in love in a place like this is out of the ordinary, but not exactly uncommon. And as you find yourself sinking more into your lovers embrace, you can’t help but whisper the words;

“I trust you.”

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

✦— THE BATTER

You say it to him after a match where one reckless move could’ve killed you.

It’s night when the Batter, Ganji Gupta, holds you tight in his arms. Maybe a little too tight for your liking, but you did put him in a frightening situation earlier today. You recall shoving him out of the way in order to save him from a blow to your head. You don't remember much after that. Just blurry memories of being in Emily's office and then, returning to your room with Ganji.

“Ganji,” you sigh, clawing at his arms in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp, even if it’s just a little bit. “You’ve gotta loosen up a little bit, please. I’m really sorry I did that earlier, but you needed to get out…”

Ganji is quick to stop your rambling by holding you (somehow) even tighter than before. “[name], you got hit on the head with an axe. None the less, a Detention hit. If I—“ Ganji sucked in a deep breath of air, letting it fall from his mouth before speaking again. "If I hadn't used my last ball I don't think you would've struggled out in time. And I don't want to think about having to leave you behind because that was your last chair."

Immediately, Ganji stiffens and sits ups. he seems to have finally processed what just happened.

"[name]. you could've died. And for what?" Ganji repeats the question while shaking you by your shoulders, tears pricking at his eyes threating to fall.

You cup his face and put your forehead to his, allowing his to fulling chompreheand the choice you made during the last match.

"I understand it was stupid of me," You start, closing your eyes. "But I don't do things without reason."

The Batter quickly wipes away at his falling tears, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Then why did you do it? You said it yourself, it was a stupid choice."

"Yes, but I did it for you. I did it because I have put more trust into you than anyone else in this wretched manor. And I knew, that even if I didn't make it out during that last game, that you would still be okay. Surviving another match means surviving another day. And for you, I'd do that again."

"God," Ganji wipes at his nose. "I hope you don't."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

You say it to him when you’re tired and vulnerable. when anything can happen.

It was early in the morning when the Prospector, Norton Campbell, snuck into your room to pry you awake from your slumber. With your bedroom key in hand (you gave it to him in case of an emergency), he tip toed into your room. He couldn’t help but silently laugh as he peered at your morning appearance. Hair a mess with a side of droll staining your pillow. Cute, but he can stare more later.

The Prospector is quick to shake you awake, pinning your arms to your side so you don’t land a hit on him in fear of being attacked. As he hovers above you, he explains that there’s something he wishes to show you.

“But Norton,” you whisper into his ear “the sun isn’t even up yet.” You hoped the darkness of your room could conceal the light blush on your face.

“Exactly why I want you to come with me. I promise it’ll be worth it.” Norton mumbled, pulling you out from under the covers. Sliding on a pair of shoes, you drag your achy body behind him and follow the Prospector outside the manor.

Fresh dew covered the grass outside, making it a bit wet and chillier than usual outside. Fortunately, Norton had came prepared. Set up outside was a big fluffy blanket with more than enough pillows to spare. Two mugs of coffee residing inside.

“Ever seen the sunrise?” Norton asks, already knowing the answer based off your shocked expression.

You shake your head no as the Prospector reaches to grab your hand and lead you towards the spot. It didn’t take long to get settled, and when you did, you found your head in the core of Norton’s lap.

“Oh? What’s this?” Norton teased “cold aren’t ya’?” You shiver in his arms as a response. Before grabbing his face with your hands. It’s a weird position, but Norton doesn’t mind. Instead he leans into your touch. A soft smile on his face.

“Have I ever told you how much I trust you?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure, have you?” Norton questions, brushing your hair to the side of your face.

“No, I’m being serious. Stuck in a place like this leaves everyone fending for themselves. But because I have you, I have someone to watch my back. I really appreciate that Norton. I trust you more than anyone else in this manor.”

Norton looks at you with sad eyes as he bends down to place a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

“I trust you more, doll.” He says as the sun starts to rise. Showering you in its warmth and light, a feeling he now resonates when it comes to you.

✦— THE MERCENARY

You say it to him during a particularly risky match where everything seems to be on the line.

There are time where a match can go inexplicably well, where everything goes absolutely perfect and you survive the game with all your limbs intact and the egotistical pride that comes with it.

Those aren’t all the time though, and when both sides are fighting it out until their last breath, it turns into a messy and an undoubtedly long match.

This seems to be one of them, and you’ve collected more than enough scars and bumps and bruises to prove it. You’re more than sure you’ll have to make a stop by Emily’s offfice, but now’s not the time to think about that. You must stay focus on your current task: stitching up Naib.

Sangria got him good this time as a long scar has taken shape on his back. Naib bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the whimpers of pain he feels. He thought he was better at this. Better at pretending he wasn’t hurting. You know him all too well though.

“m’ sorry, ‘m sorry I know it hurts. I promise I’ll be done in just a second.” You say in attempt to comfort and reassure him. All he does is nod his head and sucks in a breath of air in order to steady himself.

The Mercenary is off the second he feels you tighten the last of his bandages. You’re quick to jump onto a cipher machine as well to catch up on the progress that was lost.

—

This match has been nothing short of a living, breathing disaster.

You still can't shake the ear piercing scream Fiona let out as she was hit down again minutes later, and you won't forget the horrible cut that now runs across Naib's stomach. You’d stich it up but you don’t have the time for it. Not when Fiona needs rescuing.

“Naib, take over the last cipher. I have to go in.” You tell the Mercenary, racing past him. He stops you, grabbing—no, shaking you by the shoulders.

“No, please, [name] don’t go in there. It’s not worth it we can, we can get—“ he continues to trip over his words out of fear and desperation. “please [name], I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Naib, I promise I’ll be out soon. I trust you, I wouldn’t go in if I didn’t.” And that’s that. You place a quick kiss on his forehead before dashing off towards Fiona’s chair. You hear him scream your name out afterwards.

note: KILLS MYSELF THIS IS ACTUALLY TERRIBLE [crys]

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

#⋆˚ 💗˖° HEAD OVER HEELS! #🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･CRY ME A RIVER. #idv x reader #fanfiction #identity v #idv #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv angst #idv fluff #Norton x reader #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #ganji gupta #ganji idv #ganji x reader #ganji gupta x reader #naib idv #the mercenary #the prospector idv #the Batter idv #the batter #naib x reader #naib subedar idv #naib subedar x reader

[fonksfvcks]

id be like slightly scared of letting idia eat me out because of his teeth like what if he bites me i dont wanna bleed when it aint shark week 😨

ahem, if you dont mind im gonna shift from idia to vil because i also stan that queen

what do you think vil's sex is like and his aftercare (hes probably really good with aftercare)

-idia simp anon but my signoff is now gonna be 🌹

also! if yr wondin i use xe/them, im agender :)

LMAO, i think idia would be hyper aware of it and even more anxious than you about it. i'd let him devour my pussy >:)

as far as vil?

i know this man gives the best hugs after he's done wrecking you. you'll be a mess, drool, tears, makeup smeared, lips puffy and swollen from biting at them, and he'll just hug you while you cry on his shoulder, trying to come down, and you'll instantly begin to feel whole again.

vil is the type to break you until you're feeling like nothing, and he would happily piece you back together. you know kintsugi where they take broken pottery and repair it and accentuate the old broken pieces with gold? he's the type to do that to you but physically and emotionally.

vil is so sweet, and i imagine he needs the aftercare just as much as you do. DOMS AND TOPS NEED AFTERCARE TOO. everything he does for you, he does for himself too. seeing you smile and cuddle into him while he gently wipes your face with a cloth to clean you up makes his heart melt, and he finds himself healing from going so rough on you. you're reassuring him just as much as he is you.

he's the type of man to clean you extensively, to pamper you, and rub your body with expensive lotions and oils after a bath, massaging your sore muscles and making you feel better.

he'll ask if you need anything, and regardless of your answer, he insists on a snack and water for both of you.

overall, i love vil, and vil would love you hard. every bit of his affection for you is in his touches, and he makes that very clear. he'd have a talk with you beforehand about your favorite aftercare, and do anything it takes to make sure you get exactly what you need.

also, i'm sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for so long, i hope you still love me, hehe

#🌹 anon #twst smut #vil smut #vil schoenheit smut #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst x reader #x reader smut

[dokries]

goldleaf

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x gender neutral reader

genre: angst, hanahaki au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: no happy ending, mentions of death + implied main character death…eventually, One mention of swearing, unrequited love, the normal hanahaki au things (blood, throwing up, etc.)

author note: um so guess who found out she can actually write angst! it’s written in joshua’s pov the entire time and reader is just kinda in the background (they’re still important though!) also, if you want a lil more info about how i wrote this, check out my reblog! lots of love ♡

masterlist

when joshua sees you with them, he can’t deny that he feels…more than he wishes he did.

he’s sick and tired of the hollowness in his chest but it’s fine. it’ll all be fine once he sees you happy, right? that's what he says to convince himself before looking up at the sky and seeing you in the shape of the clouds and the way the sun hits them and himself.

fuck, he’s in too deep to continue to believe the sorry excuse he’s made up for himself to feel a little better. it never helps anyway, so why keep using it? he lets it go, imagining it fluttering away on a breeze that reminds him way too much of the person always on his mind.

so when the tingling in his throat comes out as petals the same golden like the colour he imagines your soul to be, he isn’t surprised. as he exits the bathroom, he avoids jeonghan’s gaze, promises that he’ll be fine; after all, it’s just a cold—whatever it takes to keep his best friend from worrying. at least he knows his promises won’t be worth much anyway.

he sees you often, your smile as cheery as the flowers haunting him in his dreams and the ones sticking to his lungs, trapped in his chest. he’s alright, he tells himself. he’ll be fine.

he doesn’t go to the doctor. he’s read and seen enough of what’s happening to him, and he knows the choice he’ll have to make if he goes. he knows that the only solution is to forget, but he would never do that. he can’t let go of wandering around in the wheat fields that one summer you two were in the countryside, or the time you laughed and laughed at a joke that wasn’t funny, or when he lost all hope and you were there, making sure he could get back up again and live. if the price of keeping the memories he holds close is death, he’s okay with it.

joshua doesn’t tell his roommates. he knows that jeonghan and seungcheol would drag him to the emergency room against his will, and force him to take the option he’s already decided against. he wouldn’t let them sway him anyway, but it’s easier if they don’t know. however, time seems to choose to leave the bathroom—even when it seems to be going too fast for joshua’s liking these days—when jeonghan finds him hovering over the sink, bloody tissues in his hand and washed petals placed carefully on the side.

the two of them say nothing.

jeonghan leaves, and joshua turns to the mirror above the sink, taking a good look at himself. he wipes off the dried blood on his top lip, noticing nothing else wrong. he doesn’t realize that after he leaves, jeonghan is horrified by the lack of light in his friend’s eyes, the spark he thought would never go out.

jeonghan hasn’t said anything since, lost in his thoughts every time he’s home. seungcheol is freaked out, not understanding the dead silence in the house. he doesn’t know that he’ll have to pay more for rent in…well, however long it takes for joshua’s lungs to finally fill up with your flowers. joshua knows he’s being cruel, but can’t he be allowed to be selfish in his last moments? is that too much to ask for after everything?

he doesn’t approach jeonghan, and instead writes. he writes journal entries in that notebook you got him a few years back, but he never used it because he was too scared to mess up in something you gave him; letters to those he’ll miss. he revises the one for his mother over and over again, crumpling paper like his lungs.

joshua doesn’t try to hide anything from seungcheol. he knows that his housemate’s blank expression means more than what he says. in fact, there is nothing said; their house is a place to rest and eat and nothing else. it’s as if there’s three ghosts, not just a single potential one. joshua sighs, wheezing out more petals. he grabs them hastily, making sure they don’t fall to the ground or worse, onto your letter. he carries them gently in his bloodied hands to the bathroom sink once again, the only companion he seems to have in the past few weeks.

joshua rinses each souvenir of his love one by one, clearing the dark red off before drying them and taking them back to the pile he’s made ever since this started. at first, they were hidden away in a small box on the corner of his desk, so no one would wander in and see them. now, he puts them on his nightstand haphazardly, the dark wood no longer visible under the various shades of yellow and red.

joshua picks up his pen—the expensive one his mom gifted him when he moved away so long ago; he never used it until now. the ink glides smoothly over the clean paper he had taken out earlier. he writes once again.

the only thing he knows how to say now is sorry. he writes it over and over again, signing each letter with the sounds he can barely make in real life, his voice hoarse from the damage done on his throat, and the lack of use.

maybe it’s time for something different? after all, this is for you, and he wants the news to be broken softly. he racks his head for something, anything that he finds good enough to become something real. he drinks the day-old water from the plastic bottle beside him, the familiar taste of blood accompanying it.

he glances at the clock he’s kept beside him since the start, and counts down two seconds; he has no time to waste.

he puts down the words he’s said so often to you that they’ve become a habit but seem to have changed ever since he started throwing up marigolds—a literal reminder of his unrequited love.

it’ll be a bit hard to be there for you when he’s dead, won’t it? joshua doesn’t mind. he never will.

he chuckles dryly, a whole flower falling out. he gets up and repeats his process for the petals before sitting back down.

joshua looks at his handiwork, pausing and adding a few more words before moving his paper to the side, and starting on another letter for his mother.

he stares blearily at the clock again, the red blinking numbers the only comfort he allows himself. it’s a new day.

joshua hopes it’ll finally be his last.

#dokries works #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #hong joshua x reader #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo scenarios #hong joshua imagines #hong jisoo imagines #hong joshua scenarios #hong jisoo angst #hong joshua angst #joshua x reader #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #joshua angst

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Heyyy if you still take requests:

I would like to request a Brennan Sorrengail x reader reunion where she finds out that he‘s still alive and it‘s all angsty.

It’s sad…

How to bring you back?

Nothing can prepare you for losing the people you love. Even if you repeatedly tell yourself that it will come. Even if there are signs. An early warning of the doomsday coming. When it does hit, it feels equally as earth-shattering. But then some people have no right stepping over to the other side. No right to exhale the last breath. Too soon. Too fast. Too late. They go, ripping your heart out of your chest. Pulling it with them down into the grave. While you’re forced to move on. Go day by day. Feeling your heart rot six feet under with no hope of ever getting it back. Of feeling whole again.

“Here you are”, a voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Been looking all over for you”, Bodhi’s bright eyes met yours as he and Imogen climbed up the hill, joining you in the green field. “Xaden said that you just left”, Imogen pressed her hand onto your shoulder, a silent question in her eyes. One that you knew there was no way of denying. “It’s his birthday… tomorrow”, the lump dubbed in size making it hard to breathe for a moment. “Here”, Bodhi shoved a paper-wrapped bottle into your hands. You frowned at him slightly so he quickly added, “I stole a bottle and before you say anything i don’t regret it”. You shook your head, this kid was reckless, to say the least. “As a wing leader i do not approve”, you pointed a warning finger but still unscrewed the cap.

“Good thing we are family then”, he winked at you before plopping down by your side and while the field soothed you before now with your friend next to you a pain-laced memory slipped past your walls.

“Why are you looking at me like that”, you shoved at Brennan's shoulder. The evening was warm the fields in full bloom. “Like what”, he smirked, eyes never leaving you. “Just like that”, you waved your hand in front of him, “your eyes are sparkling like crazy”. He let out a low chuckle, hands reaching out to pull you even closer to him. “It’s cause I'm looking at the most beautiful girl on earth”, he mused and you instantly rolled your eyes, “You’re a shameless flirt”. Yet your fingers moved to twist his curls over your finger. Watching the mess of them on top of his hair. Thar careless side of him. That untamed side. He turned his head slightly, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me”, he muttered, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Careful or I will start assuming that we’re the endgame”, you pointed out but Brennan simply tacked you to the ground, eager kisses finding you in the sea of affection as he muttered “mine”, over and over again.

“Can you leave your second in charge tonight?”, you blinked, slightly taken back, only to see Xaden standing in front of you. “Why?”, there was no need for that usual unless something really serious was happening. “Do you trust me?”, he threw that question so casually making you shake your head, “No, not when you go all mysterious shadow hunter on me”. The male rolled his eyes before shooting you another serious glance, “I want to… Need to take you somewhere”, he stated. “Xaden”, you hissed, not at all loving this mysterious side of him. “Trust me on this one”, he clapped your shoulder, “I’ll explain once we’ll get there”. And even with your gut telling you this was a bad idea, you still nodded your head.

“What is this place?”, the dark corridors you walked through were unfamiliar. You two had left your dragons in the field by the big slightly abandoned-looking building. “My home”, Xaden stated, leaning against a wooden fence. You turned at him, gaping, “Riorson house? Xaden…” This place was supposed to have been run over. Burnt at best. That was what everyone believed in.

“Now it’s turning into something so much bigger. The rebellion is forming within these walls” as if reading your thoughts Xaden added. “What…”, you ran a frustrated hand through your hair. First, a building that was not supposed to be here? Now a rebellion? “You’ll understand soon”, Xaden muttered. “You can get fucking killed are you insane”, you hissed at him, fully turning to face him, “You’re leading a rebellion?”, and you prayed and hoped the answer to that would be a no. But he didn’t get to open his mouth before another voice sounded.

“He’s not but I am”, your body froze. Eyes burning into Xaden who now had a sympathetic look on his face. “No”, you breathed, because there was no way. You were imagining it. Yes. That’s what it was. “Y/n”, the sound of your name nearly made you topple over. Because no one ever made it sound so beautiful like… “No, no”, you pressed your hands to your ears. “My love”, and it’s barely a mumble but his amber curls are right in front of you and it’s as if your whole world is tilting. Shifting. Changing.

“No no no”, you repeat over and over, backing up till you hit something solid. “Easy”, Xaden mutters, hands coming to support you by your elbows. “Take me back, get me out of here Xaden”, you don’t even recognize your voice anymore. You don’t recognize anything. It all seems to blur.

“Y/n”, warm and familiar fingers wrap around your hand and you screech, pulling back. “Yn i can explain it all”, Brennan mutters, eyes glassed over with tears. “Brennan, I think this is not a good idea…”, Xaden shakes his head. “Don’t call him that that’s not him. Not…”, you cry out, hands coming up to hold your head. “It is me dammit”, Brennan grunts in frustration, “look at me turn to me and take…”, he pleads. And it’s as if his words break something with you as you turn to him in frustration.

“I buried you, I watched you burn”, you hiss, showing him backward. “They took everything that belonged to you”, you sobbed, fist hitting his chest over and over again. “I’m so sorry, my love”, Brennan whispers, carefully reaching for you once again. “I grieved you, I….”, you hiccup, the pain so deep it feels as if someone was burning you from within too.

“Y/n…”, he pleas, running his fingers up and down your arms. “All this time”, you grunt, showing his hands away. “It wasn’t safe for anyone to know, I only told Xaden a couple of months ago”, Brennan stares, clearly getting fed up slightly. “Months?”, you chuckle bitterly, “Months! Why didn’t you tell me first?”, you demand, stepping forward once again. “Y/n”, Brennan shakes his head.

“I was a second thought”, your voice is barely a whisper. “You were never my second thought. You were the only thought. One I went to bed and woke to”, he leans it, fingers twirling between the ends of your hair. You shook your head, “And yet you let me die inside all this time. To starve. To wish it would have been me”, you say through gritted teeth.

Brennan opens his mouth but you lift your hand silencing him but he doesn’t seem to understand the power of distraction with you. “Baby”, he muses. “Fuck you”, you lash forward, “I hate you, i hate you”, you scream over and over again. “You asshole”, grunting your palm comes in contact with his cheek, “you killed me, I died on that field with you”. He doesn’t even move from your hits. Standing there like a statue. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me”, he practically begs. “Brennan, maybe you should step aside”, and it’s Xaden’s voice that wraps almost a blanket of comfort around you. “Xaden, I can’t”, you whimper, sinking to your knees. And while Brennan moves to get to you, Xaden gets there first. “It’s okay, we will go back. We will talk when everything settles, yeah?”, he gently brushes away the hair from your face. “He’s not here is he?”, you look up at him with almost hope. “He is. And I'm sorry that I kept it away from you”, genuine regret flashing in his eyes. “Y/n”, Brennan’s broken cry falls over you. “You’re dead to me…”, you cry, looking back at the person that shouldn’t be here, “I don’t know how to bring you back…”, your voice breaks. Sob slipped past his lips then. Right as Xaden lifted you carrying you out into the open field. Two souls crying into the depths of night.

#brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #brennan sorrengail x you #brennan sorrengail x oc #brennan sorrengail imagine #brennan fourth wing #brennan sorrengail fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #iron flame x reader

[bella-rose29]

Domestic Sweetness - part 1

requested by @oblivious-idiot: HI BELLE MY BELOVED you told me to make a formal request so!! can i request a lockwood x fem!reader - domestic sweetness, cooking for each other, lockwood giving reader his jumper, that kind of thing  feel free to go as wild and fluffy as you like hehe

"Love is wont to bring many calamities upon men" is the other thing I based this on and I feel like it's very fitting indeed

I AM SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME ACTUAL MONTHS TO DO THIS BUT YOU HAD UPDATES ALONG THE WAY SO I HOPE THAT HELPED

word count: 4.6k

warnings: painfully sweet relationship depicted, lockwood actually gets injured quite a lot (sorry to my boy), swearing, I think that's it? oh wait no there's like one or two slight innuendos whoops

“Can you pass the sugar, Lockwood?”

“Sure, here.” A heavy jar was placed on the counter next to you, and you paused in your stirring to measure out the new ingredient. He was smiling widely at you, a grin that could rival the sun with how bright and happy it was, and you almost felt bad about telling him that he’d brought the salt instead of sugar. His brow furrowed, and he checked the label again. “Damn. Sorry, darling, I could have sworn I picked up the right jar. The sun must have faded the pen; I’ll rewrite it.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before going in search of a marker, turning back momentarily to pass you the actual jar of sugar. 

George, Lucy, and Holly had gone out for the day, taking advantage of one of the last few warm days of autumn before winter started setting in and filled up their schedules with clients. Lockwood and Y/n had stayed in, making the most of the fact they had the house to themselves for a few hours and could make as much mess in the kitchen as possible without being shouted at. Besides, if the others did get mad then there would at least be cake to sweeten them up a little. 

Lockwood let out a small triumphant “Ha!” from across the kitchen, telling you that he’d found a pen. There was a brief pause, the only sounds being those of the spoon in the mixing bowl bringing all the ingredients together, and then the sound of a mason jar being opened. 

“Lockwood?” He hummed in response. 

“What are you doing?” You stopped stirring to look over at your boyfriend just in time to see him eat a spoonful of whatever was in the jar he’d just opened. “Wha… what the actual fuck?” He grimaced, pulling a face and sticking his tongue out repeatedly as though it would get rid of the taste. 

“…I had to check it was definitely salt.” He looked sheepish, a faint tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you stood with your hands on your hips and raised your eyebrows at him. 

“Of course it’s salt, dipshit. I’ve got the sugar!”

“I didn’t want to get it wrong!”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to see what a spoonful of salt tasted like?” He didn’t say anything, instead starting to write ‘salt’ on the label with far too much concentration. You sighed, turning back to the bowl. “Idiot,” you muttered, but there was a smile on your face regardless. 

~~~

Lockwood could still taste the salt. 

He’d washed his mouth out with roughly four cups of tea and six pints of water, but the tang of the teaspoon of salt he’d eaten earlier was still there. He couldn’t even complain about it either, because Y/n just laughed at him and said he had to live with the consequences of his actions. 

At least he now knew what a spoonful of salt tasted like. 

He heard you struggle a little from his place at the sink (he’d been put on washing up duty), and looked to his left to see you attempting to reach something on the top shelf. Drying his hands on the tea towel he slung it over his shoulder and stepped over, coming up behind to help. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, while the other reached up and took the second mixing bowl out of the cupboard. “Here you are, darling,” he whispered, deliberately lowering his voice and speaking directly into your ear, tightening his hold around your waist for a brief moment and delighting in both the involuntary shiver and small sound that left your mouth. He kissed your temple and let go, placing the mixing bowl on the counter and moving away to finish washing up. 

“You,” his girlfriend started, clutching the sideboard, “are evil, Anthony Lockwood. Pure evil.”

He just laughed in reply, and yelped when you dipped your hand in the sink and threw soapy water in his face. 

~~~

The cake had been sat on the side for a while now, sponges cooling down so that the icing that the two of you were currently making wouldn’t melt and slide right off. 

“That’s way too much icing, isn’t it?”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll eat any leftovers.”

“Lockwood, you can’t just put everything in your mouth.”

“Icing won’t kill me, Y/n.”

You sighed, fighting back the smile that threatened to break through. “Still. You’ll probably be sick if you eat that much.” Lockwood didn’t bother hiding his grin, dipping a finger into the bowl to scoop some icing up. He laughed when you smacked his chest, smile never disappearing even when he nearly fell backwards off his chair. “Does it taste alright?”

“Yep. Tastes perfect. I could totally eat that whole bowl and not get sick.”

“Well,” you replied, standing up from the kitchen table and heading for the sponges. “You’re not going to find out if you can. The cake’s cool enough now. Here, take the spatula. You can lick it when we’re done. When we’re done, Anthony. Not now.” Lockwood pouted with the implement halfway to his mouth, sticking his bottom lip out so far it looked ridiculous, and you snorted and gave him a peck on the cheek. “C’mon, the cake won’t ice itself.”

A short while later the majority of the icing had been used, spread as neatly as possible over the cake that had now been assembled. “It looks pretty good!” Lockwood said, standing back to admire it. 

“I just hope it tastes as good.”

“Of course it will. You always doubt yourself and then make the most incredible things I’ve ever eaten, so I don’t know why you’re always so unsure.” He’d said it so casually, inspecting the spatula in his hand and leaning back against the counter, and he was talking about cake, but it meant a lot. He wasn’t wrong, and the fact that he’d said that as nonchalantly as he had made your heart clench in your chest. Looking at Lockwood now, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window and casting him in a soft golden glow, you found yourself wondering how the hell you’d managed to end up with someone as wonderful as him. 

Then he practically deep-throated the spatula, and the illusion of Anthony Lockwood as some magnificent and incredible person was partially shattered. 

“Anthony, what the-” you cut yourself off, staring in shock at your boyfriend as he took the nearly-clean spatula out his mouth and stared back, the picture of innocence. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad, not when he was looking at you with those wide brown eyes and titling his head a little in a silent question. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” 

“You- you just shoved the whole thing in your mouth!”

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t seem concerned about the fact he could have choked, instead resorting to licking the spatula like an ice cream to get the last of the icing off. For a moment, memories of his tongue doing a similar thing but in a very different context flooded your brain, not helped at all by the soft moan he let out at the taste of the icing. 

“Just, uh… you could have- you…” He had that innocent look on his face again, and it was difficult to remember what you’d been saying. “Don’t worry about it,” you muttered, gaze fixed on the spatula. Lockwood noticed, of course, and immediately a smug look took over his features. He exaggerated his movements, and the spell was broken. It definitely helped take your mind off of… other things, especially when he accidentally smacked himself in the face with the spatula. 

“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his cheek and frowning at the implement. 

“It’s your fault, you know. I have no sympathy for you.”

“Rude.” There was no malice in his response, and the glare he gave you was teasing. 

“What are we gonna do with the rest of the icing? There’s too much to put on the cake, but not enough to put on something else. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“Eat it?”

“You want to eat everything, Anthony.” He walked over to the sink, dropping the spatula in the water and cleaning it before moving to the kitchen table where the bowl of icing sat. “What are you doing now?”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you closer with his left hand. His right was dipping into the icing bowl again, but before you could chastise him for it he was gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you in to his side, lifting his right hand to your mouth. “Open up.”

“Wha- just eat it off your hand? When did you last wash them?”

“You literally watched me wash them about a minute ago, I’m not sure why you’re concerned about that. We’ve got to eat the icing up, so if you won’t eat it then I will.”

“Fine. Go on then,” you said, sighing and opening your mouth. He paused for a moment, hand a few inches away from your face, and for a split-second you thought you saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. You should have realised that he would take advantage of the situation when his grip on your waist tightened, pinning you to his side so that he could wipe the icing on your cheek instead. A disbelieving scoff left your mouth, eyes widening as you took in the grin he was giving you. “Really? I thought you wanted to eat it?” 

He shrugged. “I can lick it off afterwards.” Under the icing your cheeks burned. Recovering quickly you reached into the bowl yourself, grabbing the back of his top to stop him lurching away when he realised that he was under attack.

“Not a fucking chance you’re getting away with this,” you muttered, spreading the icing over his chin (he’d jerked his head back at the last second, and given the awkward angle it was the only part of his face you could reach). Now it was his turn to huff in incredulity, and there was a brief pause where the two of you stood - still grasping each other to prevent any escapes - and looked at each other. 

Then something clicked, and at the same time you both made a mad scrabble for the icing bowl, hands dipping in to collect ammunition before attempting to smear the topping all over each other. 

When Lucy, George, and Holly came home roughly half an hour later desperate for a cup of tea and a quiet evening in, they found you and Lockwood lying on the kitchen floor, icing spread around most of the room and baking trays used as what looked like makeshift shields, wide smiles on both of your faces. 

George nearly had an aneurysm at the state of the kitchen, but after he made the pair of you swear to clean it before you went to bed and left the room in a huff he couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face. 

~~~

“Did we run out of teabags again?” Lucy called from the kitchen. It was incredible how far her voice could carry, really, since you and Lockwood were in his room a floor up with the door closed and music playing, and yet could still hear her. George yelled back something about how he’d meant to go the other day but forgot, and he couldn’t right now because he was doing yoga. Holly had already gone home, and when Lucy appeared at Lockwood’s bedroom door a few minutes later you sighed. 

“Why do we have to go? We just got comfy in bed,” Lockwood said, even though he was the only one currently under the covers and was still in his day clothes. You had been changing the music over, having grown bored of the previous record. 

“Because I need to wash my hair? And George is probably butt-naked so he can’t go. You two are already dressed anyway, so why does it matter?”

“She’s got a point, Lockwood,” you started. “It’ll be fun! Besides, we’ll have some time for just the two of us, and-” You didn’t even get to finish before he was launching himself out of bed, grabbing your wrist, and hurling the both of you down the stairs, already reaching for his coat and shoes. 

“See you later!” Lucy called, heading up to the attic. “Oh, and we need bread too!”

“Got it!” you yelled back, stifling your laughter at how frantically Lockwood was moving. “Why’re you going so fast? No, slow- slow down!” He had pulled your own coat off the rack and started putting your arms through the sleeves, and was now wrapping his yellow and brown patchwork scarf around his neck. 

“What? Am I not allowed to want to spend time with you? Alone?” He waggled his eyebrows around at the last word, leaning in close and aiming for a kiss, lips pursed comically as he shut his eyes. You pushed his face away, snorting at his theatrics, and put your own scarf around your neck before heading for the front door. Stuffing a bag in his coat pocket (you would never understand how he could fit so many things in them, they were stupidly deep) he followed after you, and it wasn’t long before the two of you were walking down the road hand in hand (or rather, hand in arm; your palms always got uncomfortably sweaty whenever you held hands for too long, and Lockwood had long since learned that letting you nestle your hand in the crook of his elbow was much better for both of you). 

“Teabags and bread, right?” you asked, double checking with Lockwood that you hadn’t got it wrong in the five minutes since you’d left the house. Lockwood hummed in response, a soft smile decorating his face. He turned his head to look down at you, and while his smile was still small you could see the happiness in his eyes. It was strange: before meeting him you hadn’t ever thought that someone could look at you like that, but here was Anthony Lockwood, gazing at you like there was nothing else in the world - in the universe - that mattered more than you. 

Maybe he should have considered that other things did matter, because barely two seconds later he walked face first into a lamppost. 

You desperately wanted to comfort him and check that he was alright but instead laughter burst its way up and out, making you double over and wheeze. 

“It’s not funny!” he exclaimed, clutching his nose, but there was a badly concealed grin under his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed to get out, except you were still laughing and probably looked everything but sorry. “You just- you just walked straight into it!”

“Funnily enough,” he started, wincing as he prodded his nose with his index finger, “I was aware of the fact I walked into a lamppost. Not sure what it was that made me aware of it; maybe the way my entire face hurts has something to do with it?” Your laughter had died down now, one or two small giggles still breaking through, and you moved closer to inspect his face yourself. Knocking his hands away, you brought your own up, feeling along the skin to check for… well you weren’t really sure what you were checking for, but his nose didn’t seem broken, and he didn’t have any cuts or bleeding. He might end up with a bruise or two, but he’d wear them just as proudly as the slight blue tinge on his hand from years ago or the very large eye bags he couldn’t seem to get rid of. 

“Sorry,” you said again, meaning it a little more this time. You paused for a moment, a slightly guilty look appearing on your face. “I really wish I had had my camera with me to catch that though, is that bad?” He stared at you in open-mouthed shock, but the amusement glistening in his eyes told you it was just pretend. 

“How… dare you!” He lunged, arms outstretched in an attempt to catch you, but you spun away just in time, laughing loudly and jogging away down the pavement. Lockwood rushed after you, and his long spindly legs made the distance you had created seem like nothing. He wrapped his arms around your midriff from behind, pulling you back against him and lifting you up in the air all in one go. He spun the both of you around, unable to stop his own laughter as you kicked and squeezed your eyes tightly shut, and after what felt like far too long (but in reality was probably no more than five seconds) he put you down again, twisting you around by his grip on your waist so that you were facing each other. “So rude,” he muttered, grinning while he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “So rude.” Lockwood pulled back, releasing your waist and moving to the outside of the pavement while dramatically doing a little bow and offering up his arm. 

“Are you sure your face is alright?”

“I’m sure. A bit sore, but I’ve had worse. A cup of tea when we get back will help, I think.” He was still bent a little in the middle so you took his arm and let him stand up straight and lead you down the road again. 

~~~

“Is that all we needed?” you asked, walking back over to where Lockwood stood with the shopping basket. “It doesn’t seem like a lot given we came to the big shop.” Lockwood looked a little sheepish for barely a second, quickly schooling his expression back into one that looked more like ‘I’m so happy to be out with my girlfriend’, but you caught it regardless. Narrowing your eyes, you spoke again. “We didn’t need to come here, did we.” It wasn’t a question, and Lockwood shrunk back a little. “We could have gone to Arif’s; you saying he was shut was a lie!”

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I just wanted to spend more time with you, is all.” How could you stay mad at him when he was looking at you like that? Those brown eyes would be the death of you, you were sure of it. 

“Fine,” you replied, drawing out the word. “But we’re buying biscuits.”

“Happy to, since it means we get longer together before you have to go home.” The pair of you started walking again, heading for the biscuit isle, when Lockwood stopped abruptly in the middle of the store. “Did you need anything? You know…” he waved the hand that wasn’t holding the basket in the vague direction of your body. “I seem to remember you saying you were running out of something? Pads, maybe? Or was it the liner thingies? Oh! And painkillers, we need more of those. George used the last for a headache he had the other week and I forgot to restock.”

“How… you remember me saying that?” He started dragging you away from the biscuit isle and instead towards the toiletries isle, seemingly nonplussed about the fact he’d remembered one off-hand comment you had made ages ago. 

“Of course I do. I keep a little list in a notebook so I don’t forget anything. Ah, here we are.” He stopped walking to frown at the display of products before the two of you. “Actually… I have no idea what I’m looking at right now.”

“That’s alright,” you responded, reaching out for the things you needed. “I would have completely forgotten if you hadn’t reminded me, and that would have been a disaster.” As soon as you were done, basket just that little bit heavier, you both turned and left for the biscuits for the second time. 

“You pick,” Lockwood said as you neared. “I picked the biscuits last time and the others aren’t here, so tough luck for them.”

Despite you all calling it the Big Shop it was only a small amount larger than Arif’s, and as such the aisles weren’t all that much taller - you could often find Lockwood’s head floating above the shelves which made it easy to not get lost - but it did mean that if anybody was below the height of the aisles, they were practically invisible. Unfortunately someone had been just around the corner of the biscuit aisle, hidden behind a board advertising a brand, and you didn’t have time to correct your course. 

“Oof! Watch it!” 

At first you thought you’d bumped into a small child, possibly around six or seven years in age but just above the average height, and that he was in need of a personality check for the attitude he’d just given you. Then when you blinked and the child stood up after being sent flying across the floor, you realised that you were in fact looking at Bobby Vernon instead. 

“Sorry, Bobby,” Lockwood said, trying not to smile while the other agent brushed himself off. “Didn’t see you behind the display.”

“Lockwood, that display is the size of a large rat at most,” Bobby scowled, inspecting a non-existent rip in his Fittes uniform. You had only met Bobby Vernon once before (a few months ago, and he hadn’t said a word), and you were surprised that he apparently hadn’t gone through puberty yet. There was the odd crack in his words when he spoke, but otherwise his voice sounded like what could only be described as a mouse’s feet gently pattering over a tin roof, or perhaps something akin to a child talking to you in high tones very far away. 

“I’m aware of that,” replied Lockwood, having given up on hiding his grin by now. “What are you doing here?”

“I was getting supplies for a case that we have tonight. Not sure if you remember what those are, Lockwood, but we’re fully booked for the foreseeable future.” He puffed his chest out, giving the impression of a fairy trying to make itself look bigger than it was, or a small pufferfish going up against a whale. His tone had gone all smug and holier-than-thou, and you didn’t much like it. 

“Actually,” Lockwood started, with a look that told you he was about to start lying, “we’re doing quite well ourselves.” There it was. You’d spoken to Holly earlier that day, and the biggest job that Lockwood and Co had for the next week or so was hanging up lavender in a hotel a couple of streets away. Bobby raised an eyebrow (or tried to; it looked a lot more like he’d been told that someone had just adopted a pair of gerbils for him and named them Harold and Nancy or something ridiculous like that) and scoffed. Lockwood didn’t falter though, his smile staying plastered on his face and his posture confident (seriously, the boy had to have had dancing lessons with a back that straight), and after a few moments Bobby gave up scrutinising him. 

“Well I’d best be getting on,” the Fittes agent said, straightening his jacket and sniffing. “Busy life and all that. I hope you fall in a river, Lockwood. Or set another building on fire so that they can finally take you out of the game.” You huffed an incredulous laugh, not believing how someone who looked so small and mouse-like could say something like that. Before either you or Lockwood could respond Bobby Vernon had walked off, his rapier dragging against the floor a little and nearly tripping him with how long it was compared to his body. 

“He was nice,” you mused, turning to grab some biscuits. Jammy dodgers were the first to go in the basket, since George always ate the lot of them and rarely bothered with any others. 

“Bobby’s always a joy to be around,” Lockwood replied, reaching his hand out for yours. You shook your head and put a packet of bourbons in the basket instead, already going for some chocolate covered hobnobs and digestives. Lockwood had started grabbing at yours, so you cast one last look at the basket and the shelves before indulging him. “Is that everything do you think?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, keeping his lips there while he waited for you to respond. 

“Yeah, I think so. We can always pop out again tomorrow if we missed anything.”

Just under ten minutes later the pair of you were out of the shop, Lockwood carrying the bags in one arm and your hand resting in the crook of his other. It was darker now than when you’d left the house, the evening properly drawing in and clouds darkening the sky, but with Lockwood by your side the world could never be anything but bright. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair (that somehow managed to still look great while you looked like you’d been dragged backwards through a hedge) and threatening to pull his scarf away. You reached out to grab it before the end could break free, effectively making the both of you grind to a halt. “Thanks,” he grinned, probably completely unaware of how he made you feel. A sudden urge to kiss him like those scenes in the movies overtook you, and you took your other hand out of the crook of his elbow to grab a hold of the other end of his scarf. Tugging harshly on the fabric, you yanked Lockwood down to press your lips to his, closing your eyes right before contact. 

Contact never came. 

Not for you, anyway. Lockwood did make contact, but with the floor instead of your lips, and there was a painful sounding thud when he landed. “Oops…” you murmured, hands now held up by your face instead of holding Lockwood’s scarf. 

There was a moment of silence where Lockwood was just lying on the pavement, face down while splayed out like one of those white chalk body outlines in crime reports, and then you couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore. 

It bubbled up, and at the small groan that escaped your boyfriend you tried to stop, pressing your hand over your mouth in an attempt to prevent any more laughter. You were unsuccessful, instead laughing even harder when he lifted his head to show the red print of concrete on his cheek and scowled up at you. Luckily the shopping had stayed in the bags, so when Lockwood pushed himself up off the floor and brushed the stray bits of pavement off of him, all he had to do was pick up the bag. He gently touched a couple of fingers of his free hand to his nose, testing for any injuries, then nodded when he felt satisfied that there wasn’t anything too worrying. He caught you hiding your grin and gave you one of his own before opening his mouth. 

“Kiss my nose better?” 

You snorted, stepping closer to Lockwood but not yet obliging. You checked for any damage to his nose yourself, not trusting him to have done a good enough job. “What makes you think I will?”

“Well I think I deserve some sort of compensation for my injuries,” he replied, using his spare hand to pull you into his chest by your waist. 

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” he said, voice growing quieter as he leaned in. His nose brushed against yours, warm breath on your face a pleasant contrast to the chill in the air. The wind was still pulling at your hair and clothes, rustling the plastic shopping bags in Lockwood’s hand and making your cheeks sting at the cold. 

“Alright then, if that’s what the doctor ordered.”

“It is,” Lockwood muttered, but the end of his sentence was lost in your lips. 

tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlitcanvas, @cielooci, @35-portlandxrow, @laumire, @isimpfor-everyone, @furblrwurblr

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, and of COURSE @oblivious-idiot for the request

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you

[estapa-edwards]

PROM - R. LEONARD

paring: Ryan Leonard x reader

word count: 4.2k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The sound of my alarm blaring at 6:30 AM dragged me out of a restless sleep. Prom was just around the corner, and the pressure was mounting. All my friends had dates, and I was the odd one out. Desperation was starting to set in, and the idea of going alone was unbearable.

As I got ready for school, I couldn't help but think about Ryan Leonard. Ryan was a big deal at Boston College, playing hockey and living out his dream. We had grown up together, shared countless memories, and yet, I hadn’t seen much of him since he went off to college. Could I ask him to prom? Would he even agree? The thought made my heart race.

"Y/N, you're going to be late!" my mom's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Coming!" I grabbed my bag and headed out, trying to shove my anxiety aside.

School was the usual mix of boring classes and the buzzing excitement of prom. My friends, if I could really call them that, were chattering about their dresses, dates, and after-parties. I felt like an outsider looking in.

"Hey, Y/N, who are you going with to prom?" Sarah, one of the self-proclaimed leaders of our group, asked with a smirk.

I hesitated. "I... I haven't decided yet."

She laughed. "Better hurry up. You don’t want to be the only one without a date."

The bell rang, and I practically ran to my first class, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. As the day dragged on, I kept thinking about Ryan. Maybe this was crazy, but he was my last hope.

---- --- --- 

Back home, I paced my room, working up the nerve to call Ryan. My mind was racing with a hundred different thoughts, each one more anxious than the last. Finally, I grabbed my phone and dialed his number, my heart pounding with each ring.

"Hello?"

"Ryan? Hey, it's Y/N," I said, my voice trembling slightly.

"Y/N! Wow, it's been a while. How's it going?"

"Good, good. Listen, I need a favor," I blurted out, already feeling the nerves creeping in.

"Sure, what’s up?" he asked, his tone warm and friendly.

I took a deep breath. "Would you... um, would you go to prom with me?" The words tumbled out faster than I intended. I immediately started overexplaining. "I know it's short notice, and you're probably really busy with hockey and school and everything. I just—well, you know how it is, all my friends have dates, and I didn't want to go alone, and I thought maybe since we grew up together and always had fun, it wouldn't be too weird, but if you can't, I totally understand..."

"Y/N," he interrupted gently, a smile evident in his voice. "Calm down. I'd love to go to prom with you."

Relief flooded through me, but I still felt the need to clarify. "Really? I mean, it's next Saturday, and you probably have a lot going on. I wouldn't want to impose or mess up your schedule."

"Next Saturday is perfect," he reassured me. "I'd be honored to go with you. It's no imposition at all."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Thank you, Ryan. Seriously, this means a lot to me."

"Anything for you, Y/N," he said softly. "I’m looking forward to it."

His calm, steady response eased my anxiety, and for the first time in days, I felt a genuine smile spread across my face. "Me too. Thanks again, Ryan."

"Anytime," he replied. "See you next Saturday."

After we hung up, I collapsed onto my bed, feeling a mix of excitement and gratitude. Ryan Leonard, my childhood friend, and now my prom date. Maybe this prom wouldn't be so bad after all.

--- --- --- 

The news that I was going to prom with Ryan Leonard spread through the school like wildfire. No one believed me. My so-called friends laughed it off, convinced I was making it up to save face.

"Yeah right, like Ryan Leonard is going to show up here," Sarah scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stop trying to get attention, Y/N."

I tried to brush it off, but the disbelief and mockery didn't stop there. In the cafeteria, I overheard them talking about me while I was in line for lunch.

"Did you hear Y/N’s story about bringing Ryan Leonard to prom?" Emily giggled. "What a joke."

"I know, right?" Jessica chimed in. "It's so obvious she’s lying. Probably doesn’t want to admit she couldn’t get a date."

During gym class, they continued their taunts. As we were warming up, Sarah walked past me and smirked. "So, Y/N, how's your 'boyfriend' Ryan doing? Is he flying in on his private jet to take you to prom?"

Her friends laughed, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm.

The worst was in English class. Mrs. Thompson asked us to discuss our plans for the weekend, and when it was my turn, I hesitated. I didn’t want to give them more ammunition, but I couldn't lie.

"I'm going to prom," I said simply.

"With Ryan Leonard," Sarah interjected loudly, rolling her eyes. "Isn't that right, Y/N?"

The class erupted into laughter, and Mrs. Thompson had to call for order. I sank lower into my seat, wishing I could disappear.

Even in the hallways, the whispers followed me. "There goes Y/N, the girl who thinks she's going to prom with a college hockey star," I overheard one girl say to her friend.

"She must be delusional," her friend replied. "No way he’d come back for a high school prom."

I tried to ignore them, focusing instead on getting everything ready for the big night. I bought a dress, arranged for hair and makeup, and counted down the days until Saturday. Despite the constant doubt and ridicule, I held onto the hope that Ryan would come through for me.

As the day approached, the tension only grew. My so-called friends couldn't resist one last dig during lunch on Friday.

"So, Y/N," Sarah said loudly enough for the whole table to hear, "ready for your big date with Mr. Imaginary?"

"Yeah, Y/N," Emily added with a smirk. "I hope he doesn't stand you up. That would be so embarrassing."

I took a deep breath and looked them straight in the eyes. "You'll see," I said quietly but firmly. "He’s coming."

They all laughed again, but I could see a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to wonder if I was telling the truth.

I spent Friday night in a flurry of preparation, my excitement mingling with nerves. As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but replay the events of the past week in my mind. All the doubts, the mocking, the disbelief—I just hoped that when Ryan showed up, it would be enough to prove them all wrong.

--- --- ---

The night of prom arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. My dress was perfect, a deep blue that complemented my eyes, and my hair was styled in loose curls. I looked... different. More confident, maybe. But inside, I was a bundle of nerves. My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. I couldn't shake the anxiety that had been building all week.

"Y/N, are you ready?" my mom called from downstairs.

"Almost!" I called back, taking a deep breath and smoothing down my dress for what felt like the hundredth time. I glanced at my phone, checking the time and wondering if Ryan would actually show up. What if something had come up last minute? What if he forgot?

I shook my head, trying to banish the negative thoughts. Ryan wasn't like that. He said he'd be here, and I had to trust him. I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs, my heart racing with each step.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard a car pull up outside. My heart skipped a beat, and I rushed to the window. Ryan was there, leaning against his car, looking as handsome as ever in a classic black tuxedo. Relief and excitement washed over me, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"Coming!" I called out to my mom, my voice shaky. I opened the door and stepped outside, my heart pounding in my chest.

Ryan's face lit up when he saw me, and he smiled that charming smile that had always made me feel special. "Wow, Y/N. You look amazing."

"Thanks, Ryan," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He opened the car door for me, and as I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but start babbling. "I can't believe you're actually here. I mean, I knew you would be, but still, I was so nervous all week. Everyone at school kept saying you wouldn't show up, and I started to doubt myself. But you're here, and it means so much to me. I know you're really busy with hockey and college and everything, so I really appreciate you taking the time to do this. It's just... thank you, Ryan."

He chuckled softly as he got into the driver's seat. "Y/N, it's really no big deal. I’m happy to be here with you. And besides, prom is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

His calm, reassuring tone helped soothe my nerves, and I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. As we drove to the venue, my mind was racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would my friends believe me now?

--- --- ---

When we arrived at the venue, the parking lot was already filled with students dressed in their finest. The school had transformed the gymnasium into a glittering wonderland of lights and decorations. Ryan parked the car and came around to open my door, offering his hand to help me out.

As we walked toward the entrance, my heart was pounding again. I could already see some of my classmates milling around outside, and I knew they were watching us. The whispers started almost immediately.

"Is that really Ryan Leonard?"

"I can't believe he actually came."

I held my head high, gripping Ryan's arm for support. As we entered the gym, the room fell silent for a moment, heads turning to stare at us. The music continued to play, but all eyes were on us.

Sarah and her friends were clustered near the punch bowl, and I saw her eyes widen in disbelief when she spotted us. She quickly composed herself and walked over, her expression a mix of skepticism and forced friendliness.

"Well, well, Y/N. Looks like you weren't lying after all," she said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Why would I lie about something like this?" I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed that her predictions had been wrong. "Whatever. Have fun, I guess."

Ryan squeezed my hand, and we moved to the dance floor. The music was loud, the lights were bright, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. I glanced around, seeing the looks of shock and envy on the faces of my classmates. It was a small victory, but it felt good.

--- --- --- 

As we swayed to the slow, melodic rhythm of the music, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just Ryan and me on the dance floor. The soft glow of the fairy lights above us cast a warm, ethereal glow, and I found myself relaxing into the moment. Ryan's hand was steady on my waist, his other hand gently holding mine.

I looked up at him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and nostalgia. "Thank you for coming tonight, Ryan," I said softly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

He smiled down at me, his eyes warm and sincere. "I'm happy to be here, Y/N. It's been a long time since we’ve had a chance to catch up."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I missed you. Things just aren’t the same without you around."

"I missed you too," he admitted, his gaze never leaving mine. "Life's been so busy with college and hockey, but I always think about the times we spent together growing up."

I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. "It feels like everything changed so quickly. One minute we were kids, and the next, you were off chasing your dreams. I guess I felt a little left behind."

Ryan's expression softened, and he pulled me a little closer. "I'm sorry if it ever felt that way. You were never left behind, Y/N. You've always been important to me."

His words sent a warm feeling through my chest, and I found myself smiling despite the tears that threatened to spill. "It’s just been tough, you know? With everyone at school and feeling like I don’t quite fit in. Having you here tonight... it makes everything better."

He squeezed my hand gently. "You deserve to feel special, Y/N. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise. Tonight is about having fun and celebrating you. I'm just glad I get to be here with you."

We danced in silence for a few moments, the music surrounding us like a comforting embrace. I felt safe and cherished in Ryan’s arms, a stark contrast to the way I usually felt at school. It was as if all the doubts and insecurities melted away, replaced by a sense of belonging.

"Do you ever miss it?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Being home, I mean."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I do. Boston College is amazing, and I love playing hockey, but there's something about being home that you can't replace. The familiarity, the memories... and people like you."

I blushed at his words, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I’m really proud of you, you know. Seeing you live your dream is inspiring."

"Thanks, Y/N," he said, his smile genuine. "And you? What about your dreams? What do you want to do after graduation?"

I hesitated, the question feeling both exciting and daunting. "I’m not entirely sure yet. I have some ideas, but it’s hard to know for certain. I just want to find something that makes me happy."

"You will," he said confidently. "Whatever you choose, you’ll be amazing at it. I know you will."

The song began to wind down, and I realized that for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future. As the last notes played, Ryan leaned down, his forehead resting gently against mine.

"Thank you for this dance," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

"Thank you for making it unforgettable," I whispered back, feeling a sense of connection that words couldn't fully capture.

--- --- --- 

As the night went on, I started to relax, enjoying Ryan's company and the magic of the evening. We danced, laughed, and talked, just like old times. But, of course, it didn’t last. My so-called friends couldn’t resist making snide comments and trying to undermine me.

"Look at Y/N, acting like she's all that just because she has a famous date," one of them whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

"Yeah, it's probably just a pity date," another added.

Ryan stopped dancing and turned to them, his eyes blazing with anger. "You know what? Y/N is amazing, and she's way better than any of you who think it's okay to tear someone down just to feel good about yourselves."

The room went silent again, and I felt my cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. No one had ever stood up for me like that.

"Let's get out of here," Ryan said softly, taking my hand.

We left the ballroom and walked outside into the cool night air. The stars were bright, and the tension of the evening seemed to melt away.

"Thank you, Ryan. For everything," I said, my voice filled with emotion.

He looked at me, his expression serious. "You deserve better than how they treated you, Y/N. Don't ever let anyone make you feel less than you are."

--- --- ---

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and conversation. We drove around the city, talking about everything and nothing, just like old times. It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

After leaving the prom, we got into Ryan's car and drove away from the venue, the city lights twinkling like stars around us. The air was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by our sporadic bursts of laughter and the hum of the car engine. Ryan turned on the radio, and we sang along to old songs that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

"Remember when we used to ride our bikes to the old park and play until it got dark?" Ryan asked, glancing over at me with a nostalgic smile.

I laughed, the memory warming my heart. "Yeah, and how we’d always get in trouble for coming home late. Your mom would call my mom, and they’d both be waiting for us at your house with that look."

He chuckled, nodding. "Good times. Simpler times."

We drove past our old elementary school, the playground now empty and quiet. "It's strange how everything looks the same, but feels so different," I mused. "We’ve grown up so much, but these places hold the same memories."

Ryan pulled over near the school, turning off the engine. "Let's take a walk," he suggested.

We got out of the car and strolled down the familiar paths, the cool night air refreshing against my skin. The playground was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling activity it used to have when we were kids. We walked over to the swings and sat down, gently swaying back and forth.

"Do you ever wish you could go back?" I asked, looking up at the stars.

"Sometimes," Ryan admitted. "But then I think about all the things we’ve experienced and learned. Growing up is hard, but it shapes us into who we are. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything."

I nodded, understanding what he meant. "I just miss the simplicity of it all. No drama, no expectations. Just us, having fun."

He reached over and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We can still have that, you know. It might be different, but the connection is still there. Tonight proves that."

We sat there for a while, lost in our own thoughts, the silence comfortable and familiar. Eventually, we got back into the car and continued our journey through the city. We drove past our favorite ice cream shop, and Ryan impulsively turned into the parking lot.

"Want to get some ice cream?" he asked with a grin.

"Absolutely," I replied, my excitement genuine.

The shop was nearly empty, and we ordered our old favorites—mint chocolate chip for him, strawberry for me. We sat in one of the booths, savoring the sweet, cold treat and reminiscing about the countless times we’d done the same thing as kids.

"Do you remember that summer we tried to make our own ice cream?" Ryan asked between bites. "We made such a mess in your kitchen."

I laughed, almost choking on my ice cream. "My mom was so mad! We got ice cream everywhere except in the bowls."

"It tasted awful, too," he added with a grin. "But it was fun. One of those memories you never forget."

We stayed there until the shop closed, then got back in the car and drove aimlessly, enjoying each other’s company. We talked about our hopes and dreams, our fears and uncertainties. It felt good to open up, to share parts of ourselves that had been hidden away for too long.

Eventually, we found ourselves at the edge of town, near the lake where we used to go fishing with our families. Ryan parked the car, and we got out, walking down to the water's edge. The moon reflected off the surface, creating a serene and almost magical atmosphere.

"I used to come here to think," I said quietly, staring out at the water. "Whenever things got tough, this was my escape."

Ryan nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I get that. Everyone needs a place like this. A place to find peace."

We sat down on the grass, side by side, the silence speaking volumes. After a while, Ryan turned to me, his expression serious. "Y/N, I’m really sorry about what happened at prom. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

I shook my head, placing a hand on his arm. "Ryan, you didn’t ruin anything. You made it better. I’m glad you stood up for me. It showed me who my real friends are."

He smiled, relief evident in his eyes. "I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I might have made things worse."

"No," I said firmly. "You made it perfect. Tonight has been everything I could have hoped for and more. Thank you."

We stayed there for a while longer, the peacefulness of the lake surrounding us. Eventually, we knew it was time to head home. Ryan drove me back to my house, the conversation still flowing easily between us.

Ryan walked me to my door, and we stood there, neither of us wanting the night to end.

"I had a great time tonight, Y/N," he said softly.

"Me too. Thank you for coming with me. It really meant a lot."

He smiled, that same smile that had always made me feel special. "Anytime. Let’s not wait so long to see each other again, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Ryan."

I turned to unlock the door, but before I could step inside, I felt his hand gently grab my arm. I turned back, surprised, and saw an intensity in his eyes that took my breath away. Without another word, he leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and warm against mine. The world seemed to stop in that moment, and all I could feel was the electricity between us, the connection that had always been there but now felt stronger than ever.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless. I stared up at him, my heart racing. "Ryan," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "would you... would you stay the night? Not like that, I mean. Just stay. I don't want this night to end."

He looked at me, his eyes softening with understanding. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice tender. "I'd like that a lot."

I opened the door wider, letting him in. The house was quiet, my parents long since asleep. We tiptoed upstairs, careful not to make too much noise. Once in my room, I grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, offering them to Ryan for the bed.

"You can take the bed," I said, gesturing toward it. "I'll sleep on the floor."

But Ryan shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "No, Y/N. You take the bed. I'll be fine on the floor."

I hesitated, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. "Are you sure?"

He smiled, his expression gentle. "Positive. I'll be more comfortable down here."

Reluctantly, I accepted his offer, settling onto the bed and pulling the covers up around me. Ryan arranged the blanket and pillow on the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible.

"Thank you, Ryan," I said softly, feeling a warmth spread through me at his selflessness.

He looked up at me, his eyes soft and sincere. "Anytime, Y/N. I'm just glad to be here with you."

I smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. It felt strange, having Ryan here in my room, but also strangely comforting. We had shared so many memories in this space, and having him here now felt like coming full circle.

"Hey, Ryan?" I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Would you... would you like to share the bed? Like we used to when we were kids?"

He looked surprised, but a hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, feeling a sudden rush of courage. "Yeah. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his smile widening. "I'd like that, Y/N. I’d like that a lot."

We rearranged the blankets and pillows, making room for both of us on the bed. As we settled in, side by side, I felt a sense of closeness that I hadn't felt in a long time. It felt right, having Ryan here beside me, sharing this intimate space.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with warmth.

"Goodnight, Ryan," I replied, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his comforting presence. It was a night I would never forget, a night that marked the beginning of something new and beautiful between us.

sorry I haven't been posting. I took a break and it was well needed! but im back should be putting out requests this week.

#hockey #nhl x reader #ryan leonard #usa hockey #boston college #Boston hockey

[flightfoot]

Ur a pretty fair voice in my opinion when it comes to the whole mess in miraculous. Would you mind telling me what your favorite things are about Marinettes appreciation of Chat Noir in Canon? Not fanon, CANON.

I'm still grieving LadyNoir and recently I'm feelin very down in life in general and now I don't have my comfort show and ship anymore the way I used to love them for.

The way Marinette treats Chat Noir in and outta her transformation never stops hurting my poor broken LadyNoir heart n as much as I wished I could love the potential of her love for him as I once did, it just feels so paper thin and shallow to me now after everythin this show did.

The show is clearly trying to have her feelings for him be smth now, but for me it never seems to go beyond her infamous vague heart eyes the show likes to hav her throw around for damage control & surface level appreciation of his presence when she has to. But if you'd tell me that she still has no real feelings for him, I would believe u, cause he as a person doesn't truly matter at any given moment her words have to MEAN something more than a vague "<3" she's never asked to back up with anything worthwhile (srry, I know you've heard that complaint a million times before. It's at least comforting to know that others feel the same)

Wasn even her taking any interest in Chat for his person in the first quarter of season 5 only caused by Marinette wantin to proof Alya wrong and that her love for him instead of Adrien is real and valid? That's so disheartening...

Going through the tags isnt helping either, cuz most i find it is either much more fanon than Canon, or it's in line with Chat prrty much being her servant now instead of her finally giving care back

Idk, I hope I'm not bein too much of a downer. So imma get back to my question now. Maybe u can help me see Canon in better light again.

Could you tell me what you like most bout Marinettes and Ladybug's connection with Chat Noir? Things she does for him, what she values in him and so on and so forth?

I like the times we see her getting upset when Chat's hurt, or when she comforts him when he's clearly not feeling good. I adored how angry and upset she got in Timebreaker when Chat was "killed" in front of her for the first time, how she suddenly became more vicious. She doesn't want to lose him.

Or like, for times when she's comforted Chat, I adore how calmly and patiently she spoke to Chat in Reverser, after his courage was taken away, how she gently coaxed him where he needed to go. I took great solace in that, the first time I rewatched that episode, since I'd been exposed to a lot of Saltinette at the time, and I needed the reminder that Marinette does, in fact, care about people, even when it's inconvenient.

While I wish that Marinette had really thought through Chat's potential reaction to someone new showing up with her Miraculous without warning, I DID love that Marinette had this long list of protips. I especially liked this one:

Marinette: (v.o) Protip 33: When Cat Noir tells a joke, try to laugh at it even if it isn't funny. It makes him happy.

Even in episodes where I have a problem with the way Marinette conceives of Chat Noir, I generally still like elements of it. Like even in Ephemeral, while I think it was very, very wrong for her to try to trick Chat the way she did, she WAS doing it because she didn't want to risk Su-Han taking Chat's Miraculous from him. Or in Kuro Neko, when she didn't want to give the miraculous back to Plagg to give to Chat Noir, because she was afraid they'd end up back in this same situation, and she didn't want to keep hurting him.

At her core, Marinette cares about Chat's feelings and wants him to feel good, to be happy. The issue comes from her not seeing things from his perspective, from being terrible at reading him. Marinette has a lot of compassion towards Chat Noir, she just doesn't understand him.

#ask #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ml analysis #miraculous ladybug

[ana-chronista]

hiiii I saw you reblogging that kiss thingy, I'd like to suggest Jance + 10 💚

I'm so sorry this took forever, but I hope you enjoy it! (It just goes to show nothing is ever lost in my inbox, just... slow 😅) Thank you for the request! ❤️ 10. ... desperately

The lock has barely clicked shut behind him before Jan is in his arms, the force knocking him back into the front door. The kiss is all frenzy and no finesse, a bruising mess of teeth and tongues and heat as Jan pushes him back into the wood and he pulls Jan into him. And he’s not complaining. It’s been a long few weeks on tour, with barely a moment to snatch for just the two of them. A cramped tour bus is hardly the right environment to get close to one another without someone or other stumbling across them, only to rush off again with a shout of “I didn’t see anything!” (Or so he’s heard. Hypothetically.) “What’s this all about?” he asks teasingly as they break apart, as if he doesn’t know, as if it’s not exactly the same for him, as if there hasn’t been this tension building ever faster between them all day as they drew closer to home. Jan shoots him a quick glance that’s so deadpan it makes him laugh. “If you can’t guess, I really don’t know what to tell you.” Jan replies, before darting in to recapture Nace’s lips with his own. His fingers find the buttons of Nace’s shirt at the same time, so of course Nace can’t resist pulling him in by his belt loops, deepening the kiss. He feels as much as hears Jan’s moan in response right before the guitarist seems to give up on the buttons halfway down. “You’re distracting me.” Jan says accusingly, still close enough for their lips to brush as he speaks. Nace shrugs, securing his hands on the other man’s hips to make sure he stays as close as possible. “That seems like a you problem.” he says, pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Come on, we should go to the bedroom.” He tries to encourage Jan to step back, only to be met with resistance as Jan shakes his head. “I have no idea where that is.” he says, moving in for another kiss. Nace turns his head slightly so Jan can only catch the corner of his mouth. “Yes you do.” “Not since you moved.” “You’ve been here before.” Nace points out. Jan shrugs, toying with the next button down on Nace’s shirt. His breath hitches as the guitarist’s callused fingers brush his bare chest almost by accident – a long few weeks indeed. “Then I’ve clearly forgotten.” “It’s right over there.” Jan doesn’t even look to where Nace is pointing two doorways down. “That’s too far.” “You’re so lazy.” “I just have other priorities.” “Can’t think what those are.” “I mean, I could spell it out for you, or – ” Nace decides right then and there that that’s enough talking for now. As much as he loves their conversations, they’ve been able to do pretty much nothing but talk for so long that maybe Jan is onto something with these other priorities. He cuts him off with a kiss so sudden and bruising that he catches him off guard enough to push him back against the hallway wall, crowding him in somewhere between the coat rack and the dresser. There might not be any time for talking right now, but judging by the way Jan fists his hands in Nace’s hair, or by the sound he makes as Nace hooks his hands under his thighs to lift him up, he’s a hundred percent in agreement with his plan. - Later, Jan will suddenly recall exactly where Nace’s bedroom is in the new flat, but they won’t make it there for several hours.

#ana answers #jance #fanfic

[marchsage]

GRABBING AND SHAKING YOU. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TODAY IS (LACKTWO'S BIRTHDAY)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

+ extra sketch

#pokespe #lacktwo (pokespe) #blake (pokespe) #lacktwo #pokemon special #pokemon adventures #ive decided i can post art w whatever caption i want to actually. cringe doesnt exist anymore #i love him still so much he's so messed up and i hope he comes back to spe. where's dexholder reunion 2 #something something this guy hasn't had a normal birthday til now #actually i wouldnt have posted it here bc its such a quick doodle but. <:3 shoutout to ash and soup for their nice words abt it #my art #i call the top art ideal lacktwo (kid that gets to relax) vs the bottom art being more on-model (kid who is So . Something)

[these-are-the-first-steps]

Ok so like.....*sigh*

So like in the show he basically asks her to marry him and she says yes, and they're both like "Promise? Promise!" but she keeps fucking conveniently remembering and forgetting "the promise to mother" like I know he's intoxicating af and it's hard to hold a thought around this man (I also have a very hard time holding a thought looking at him), but pick a goddamn side and have a backbone about it ffs!! Like you can't waffle on people like this girl!! You literally sat here and engaged yourself to this man and then you go off and do THAT???

I would like to note that so far in the (very drastically different) novel, there is no such promise ever made, and she fucks off to the steppe because she's mad at Ning Yi thinking the whole entire time he had just been cozying up as part of a plot to kill her so leaving bought her time, space, and a power base to fight back and he just eats the misunderstanding like "????? fine, come and kill me when you're ready, at least I'll get to see you again, I am ok with this." which makes a bit more sense tbh.

In a loooot a lot of ways, the tv show is about 1000x more polished than the book, but at least the book has fewer slaps in the face like this. They become a bit more obvious on rewatch, especially after pawing through the novel. (I hope the translator finishes it someday!! They picked it up again this past may after two years of nothing so here's hoping!)

#the rise of phoenixes #spoilers #i needed to talk about some stuff ok #tbh I do like the ning yi of the tv show a LOT more- god bless chen kun #but the book ning yi also has his good points like accepting zhiwei's major choices #in the show it is absolutely not his fault that her mom and brother die- no question bc he tried damn hard to do everything he could #in the book he's got a bit more of the blame because he loses control of his subordinates after showing too much favor to zhiwei #they think he's blinded by her charm and talent and unable to make sound decisions so they act independently without telling him and fuck u #and he accepts that because he lost control of his people that that puts some of the blame on him because he WAS investigating feng hao #just not at zhiwei's expense which is what she thinks has happened- that wasn't the game at all #but he still takes the L with a little bit of dignity and it makes sense for her to get her space and leave #whereas in the show she highkey comes off as a pissbaby after this man wins a whole war on speedrun just to save her #only for her to conveniently remember mommy's promise again and break her engagement and fuck off to the steppe #which leaves him rightly a fucking mess and that was not a good look for her #i really really hope the translator picks the book back up and finishes it #i would love to see how this pans out there as the whole picture even though I know it has a happy ending already #but still!!

[biancabelairs]

i'm thrilled kenny might be coming back by all out, i've missed him dearly

i'm considerably less thrilled about hung bucks getting put on ice again and/or bucks/ftr 3 for all the belts at all out getting canned for the sake of kenny/bucks trios champs, as much as i love the three of them as a unit but like. it's been months since the timing for that was right and i'd like to see some payoff for the things that got set up in the meantime

#aew has a huge problem with adjusting plans when something happens that's out of their control #see: #dragging out the whole ue drama for months on end in the hopes kenny would come back sooner #the interim world title situation #the mess that was the forbidden door build (although that one is also tony being bad at doing angles that feel different from each other) #(and most of the wrestlers who care enough about that AND have the sway to get that kind of thing on the show being off tv) #and this kenny/bucks thing with them HAVING to be the first trios champions is another example #like in a perfect world where kenny was able to come back sooner and the ue storyline didn't die many deaths then yeah go for it #it would have been great #and it'll probably still be good and i love them all so like. it's fine #but things did happen that caused drastic changes to the planned timeline #and there were now two hotter angles that i'm much more invested in seeing the emotional payoff to currently #that will prob just end up getting shafted and i'm bummed out about it #anyway whatever ignore this lmao i rly am happy kenny might be coming back sooner than i thought he would bc the show misses him desperately #but yeah. just wish they wouldn't fuck with the good things they have/had going for the sake of u turning into the og plan from months ago #aew #text post

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

#wiw asks #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price #simon riley #john mactavish #kyle garrick #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw3 #call of duty #modern warfare 3 #female reader

[sunarc]

Dilf Toji fucks you nice and slow when you’re done putting Megumi down for bed. He wants to thank you for being so good to him and his son. As a single dad it gets hard so when you came into the picture offering your services it was hard to deny such a genuine offer. You’re so good to Megumi, gentle, kind and patient. Toji can’t help the growing bulge in his pants when he sees you being such a strong mother figure. He has to show you his gratitude. The best way he can do that is by having you in a mating press so he can fuck you nice and deep. 

“You like that?” his voice is a soft hum. 

You feel dizzy. His cock feels so deep. He’s stretching you out more than ever before. You call out his name in a soft whimper.

“Yeah? I’m right here doll don't worry I’m not going anywhere” he groans.

Toji’s obsessed with the way you look taking his cock. Your hole looks so perfect clenching, barely able to fit all of him. You look so full, Toji can’t help but imagine how full you would look with his cum drooling out of you. He has to see it. He’s determined to fuck you full of his cum. His cock plunges in and out of you creating a pattern. Your moans fall past your lips making a tune Toji never wants to forget. 

“That’s it, good girl, say my name” you sound so pretty to him. “Tell me who fucks you this good, say it , tell me no one can make you shake like this, no one can fill this pussy up the way i can”

He’s never felt himself lose control like this before. There’s something about you, something that leaves him desperate for more. He craves you, desires you every waking second. The way your lips part letting pleads and moans drip off your tongue has him losing his mind. He can’t get enough of you. He knows he should be quiet but the way your cunt feels squeezing him so tight he thinks he just might lose his mind. “That feel good baby? Yeah I know” he coos “I’m gonna fuck you so full” his pace is picking up speed. 

His mind is practically blank thinking of how he wants to fill you to the brim with his cum. No that’s not enough he needs to give you every last drop he has. 

“You need my cum don’t you” he’s desperate to hear you say it. He’s practically begging to hear you asking for his cum. Tell him how much you want his babies. He can make you a mommy. Don’t you want him to make you a mommy?

“Our baby is gonna be so beautiful” he whispers. He isn’t sure if you can hear him but he doesn’t mind as long as you’re still losing your mind calling out his name. 

“That’s right” he growls “Say my name while I fuck a baby into you”

His hand push your thighs further down so he can reach deeper. The way he drags his cock past you slick walls has you shaking. Your words come out slurred. 

“It’s too big” you whine as he goes deeper

“No no you can take it.” he bites he lips continuing his long deep strokes. He knows you can take it. Your eyes roll back when he begins grinding his hips into you. He knows he’s hit the spot he’s been searching for. 

“There she is” he chuckles. 

You can barely contain the moans now. Your body is shaking uncontrollably. 

“Please” you gasp “S-slow down, I’m gonna make a mess” you cry.

Toji loves the sound of that. He thrust pick up speed, fucking into you even harder. 

“That’s it, just like that, make a mess on my cock.”

He’s desperately chasing after his own orgasm. He wants to cum with you. His thrust are sloppy. He’s moaning your name pleading for you to cum for him. 

“Cum-fuck Now” he demands. 

You can’t help the juices the splatter against his abs as he fucks his load into you. The two of you are a moaning mess. You ramble incoherent words paired with his name. His eyes are glued on the sticky mess between the two of you. The squelching sounds of his cock fucking his cum back in fill the room. 

“What a pretty sight this is. I hope it’s a girl” he moans “She’ll have your eyes” 

You can barely give him a reply to focused on the way his cock is still plunging in and out. 

“It’s too much” you slur.

“No baby it’s not enough” he groans “I gotta make sure this tummy is full of my cum. One more just one more okay”

Toji has plans on fucking way more than just one more load into you. He has to fuck you full until he’s sure of it you’ll be the one carrying Megumi’s little sister.

#toji smut #jjk toji #jujutsu toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #toji headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[lxnarphase]

guide you all the way down, be your nightlight ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

up to the challenge : ⌞no nut november⌝ edition [ pt 1 - pt 3 - pt 4 ]

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : nanami kento + h. hiromi + k. choso

☾₊‧⁺...cw : fingerfucking, squirting, dirty talking, begging, deep throating condom breaking, excessive cum, riding, kento being lovey-dovey, hiromi nearly loses his mind, choso being whiny and desperate, reader is on birth control but choso is just worried about the mess of no condom, choso's part is very long and indulgent

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : to the anon who requests choso and nanami, i hope you don't mind i threw higuruma in here too, i really wanted to include him since he gives the vibes of being in the middle between nanami and choso 🖤 thank you so much for the request !

✧ n. kento lasts : entire month

you were the one to bring this up to kento, mentioning in passing that gojo wouldn't shut up about this 'challenge' he and geto were going to participate in. with a hum, he asks if you were trying to suggest something to him. if you wanted him to try this little 'game,' he wouldn't mind...as long as you'd let him pamper you all month. and he really does; he's breezing through each day as though nothing is wrong. kento's still as sweet as ever, constantly cuddling you, taking you out on formal dates, and telling you how much he loves you. he manages well the entire November, only showing weakness whenever you try to tease him. but of course, if you're going to try and break his streak, he just spreads you out on the bed, fingerfucking you until you squirt all over his hand. eventually, the whole month flies by, and kento genuinely feels relief that it's over. but he's a little shocked when he comes home, and you're dressed in a pretty, yellow matching lingerie set as you drag him into the bedroom that's filled with candles and roses...he pampered you all month, now it was his turn to be pampered.

"kentooo~" having you between his legs like this, cooing his name so sweetly, causes a shiver to shoot down his spine. you look so adorable, so gorgeous on your knees and pressing kisses up and down his length. those pretty kiss marks would be burned into his mind for weeks. but what makes his stomach flip the most? is that look in your eye. that needy, desperate, loving gaze...it made his cock twitch in your hands. "darling, please," he sighs, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. you smile at him, you fucking smile at him like you aren't peppering his cock in kisses. with a little nip to his thumb, you giggle, nuzzling into his palm. "just focus on me, okay, ken?" he nods, sucking in a breath when your lips press against the tip of his dick. "fuck, princess, god, when you suck me down like that-!" the calm, sweet environment was gone now, with the way you sloppily sucked his cock. it was so fucking messy, your lipstick smearing all over his shaft as your manicured hand cupped his balls, softly massaging them as you felt your spit dripping down to your hand. "yes, yes, just like that, princess, k-keep going. oh, you're so fucking beautiful with my cock in your throat, 'm gonna cum soon in that pretty throat," he oh-so gorgeously moans for you, throwing his head back as he tries not to buck up into your hot mouth. for being such a refined, put-together man, kento loves when you give him such messy head, seeing how your lipstick is smeared everywhere, your chin dripping with precum and saliva. you could feel him throb in your throat just from the view. your kento is so sweet like this, doing his best not to fuck your mouth. but could anyone blame him when your mouth is so hot and wet? god, he never wants you to stop, not when you make him feel so greedy. each time you take him down your throat, kento swears he's going to cum, his head lolling back again as he lets out a deep groan of your name when you take all of him down like it's nothing. he wanted nothing more than to grab you by your hair and fuck your mouth like he wanted...but he wouldn't. no, he's going to keep letting his darling pamper him how she wants...but when he keeps just moaning your name so sweetly, begging you to let him cum... "p-please, honey, I'm so close, let me cum, my pretty girl, let me cum, I'll do anything-!" how could you say no to that?

✧ h. hiromi lasts : entire month

by the end of the first week, hiromi realizes how much he fucking regretted doing this. dealing with his cases has him so stressed he's surprised he didn't go completely grey. every time he comes home, he just wants to love on you, his darling little wife, but he can’t because he’s already dedicated to beating this foolish challenge. so while he can't cum, he is sure to take his frustrations out on you. but it literally crushes him each time he makes you cum, whether it be with his hands, mouth, or dick, and you look at him with those cute pleading eyes, softly whining for him to let you take care of him and make him cum too.

you are too cute for your own good, nearly causing hiromi to cave in several times as the month progressed. even you can see how it was affecting him, as he gets more and more desperate to make you cum, his eyes always zeroed in on your face to ensure your feeling good. he was a prideful, strong man, but fuck, he was so frustrated and pent up that he started to beg you to cum. "you're close, right? i can feel it, sweet thing. just listen to your pussy, she's so wet and sloppy, just from my fingers," he groans into your ear, sounding so wrecked and needy, and he hasn't even touched himself once. but you can hear it, the annoyance in his tone. hiromi is so close to breaking, to giving up and you nearly beg him again to just fuck you, but your eyes catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. 12:27 am. it was december. he did it, he fucking made it, and you were desperately clawing at his wrist, trying to get his attention. "'romi, 'r-'romi! 's december, you made it, please, pull it out, t-take your dick out, 'romi, need you in me so bad!" with a quick glance to the clock to make sure you weren't fucking with him, hiromi lets out a delirious laugh, undoing his pants enough to pull his throbbing cock out, and he easily folds you in half, sliding his tip through the sopping wet mess between your thighs. "i made it, didn't i? i made it. so now you're gonna reward me, right?" you squeal when you feel the tip of his cock get caught on the entrance of your hole and nudge in juuust enough for you to cry out his name, gushing from the little stimulation it gives you. "look at you...I've been neglecting this little cunt, my fingers aren't enough, my mouth isn't enough. no, no, she needs t' be stuffed with a thick, fat cock to make 'er cream...isn't that right, angel?"

✧ k. choso lasts : 30 minutes

choso was stupid. he was so fucking stupid for even thinking he could do this challenge. he literally heard about it from yuuji before but had no idea what it meant. so here he was, looking at the calendar on his phone. it was mid-morning, and 5 minutes ago, he decided to do this challenge. choso should've remembered that he was a desperate man when it came to you because the second you come out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes as you sleepily greet your boyfriend, he knows he's fucked. but seeing you in his black t-shirt and likely nothing else and choso let out a shaky sigh. just looking at you has his mind racing with all the different ways he wants to have you. you’d look really cute in his lap with a blissed-out smile on your face. with a needy whine, he stands up, dragging you back to the bedroom as he greedily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and moaning against your lips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, you look s' cute, so pretty, m-my pretty baby, y-your cunt is sucking me in—!" choso is a mess, fucking into you from behind. his hands grip your hips, keeping your ass up in the air as his cock abuses your insides, his hot, thick tip smushing against your cervix. he's fucking you into the mattress, his moans mixing with yours and those sweet, wet squelching sounds coming from your pussy, sucking his cock back in with each pull out of you. "moan louder, please? m-move your head, stop muffling yourself w-with the pillow," he whines, his body hovering over yours. you can feel drool dripping from his mouth onto your back, and just the feeling makes your eyes roll back. knowing he was so needy and desperate just to get his dick wet inside of you that he was drooling all over you made your walls clench so hard around him. "c-cho, 's too fucking deep, b-baby, 'm gonna cum," you sob, hands clawing into the pillowcase. instantly, you feel choso grip you harder, barely pulling out of you as his hips slap against yours in a bruising fashion, your body jolting up the bed with how hard he was fucking you. "don' run, please,, don' run from it," he whimpers, choking on a sob as he feels himself twitch inside your gummy walls, his hips stuttering against yours when you keen, pushing back against him when he hits a spot that feels so good. "fuck, f-fuck, 'm cumming, your pussy's so good, so wet, so fuckin' hot, 'm sorry, 'm cumming-!" despite his orgasm rushing over him, he keeps fucking you, his eyes rolling back as he moans your name over and over again, begging you for...something. he doesn't notice the sudden change, but you do, suddenly feeling warm and full inside as he keeps pounding into you. your eyes snap open, and you whine, turning a little to press your hand against his chest. "cho, h-honeyyyy! t-the condom, you broke the condom, you're cummin' in me!' you can't lie, it feels so good, and you feel your head swimming as he pumps thick seed into your needy cunt. it's another minute until he's done, and he starts to pull out but sees how creamy his cock is...and the way the condom is ripped at the top. he...he just came in you. his thick cum was starting to drip out of you, and your hand came up to press against your hole, not wanting to drip it onto the mattress. but he only registered it as you wanting to keep it inside...you wanted his cum? you wanted him to fill up that pretty pussy? he didn't even realize he was speaking out loud, quickly peeling off the broken condom and lining back up with your creamy cunt. "i-i don't mind it, choso, b-but t-take the condom off b-before you-chooo, babyyy, w-wait, that's so deep-!" "s-shhh, s'okay, you can take it, take it for me, 's okay, i always make it fit, i-it fits so good, pretty cunt, 's all mine, 'm gonna cum 'n you over and over again until your a creamy little mess, baby, i-i'll eat it outta you too, promise, promise, just let me stuff you, please!" hm, maybe he'd tell you later this was supposed to be a challenge...maybe not and just pretend like he needed you real bad today.

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