#of the ones you’re complaining about are ThERE read

[faetreides]

oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!

cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)

Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.

You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.

You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.

“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.

He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.

You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.

“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.

Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”

You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.

“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.

“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.

Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.

“I want you to eat me out like this.”

Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.

“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”

He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.

Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.

You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.

You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.

He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.

“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.

You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.

Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.

“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.

His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.

Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.

You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.

Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.

“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.

“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”

#this one is so bad but oh well #mike faist #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers smut #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #mike faist challengers #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers film #mike faist x you #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #🕊️.alivedove #🎧.asks #challengers x you #challengers fic #x reader smut #x reader

[phanchester]

people on twitter are complaining about paying for the kiswe livestream and it’s really fucking grinding my gears. why the fuck are you mad at dan making something he’s worked on for an incredibly long time available for every fan to see without that financial barrier? YOU chose to pay for it. dan is not a villain for making money off his project. plus it is clear from many of his tweets that he had wanted to make it public from the beginning, but he was discouraged by his management. he had to work hard to get it available on youtube - and he did it as soon as he could, as he said in one of his tweets.

paying for the livestream is no different than paying for a patreon. it’s the same type of model - videos available to you before the public. PLUS the livestream has so many other things! even if you DID just pay for the main package, which was without the orange carpet and q&a, you were able to comment live, get dan’s reactions, post video reactions… if you’re upset absolutely fuck off

edit: corrections because i wrote this in a flash of anger

main tickets DID have additional content including the orange carpet so no matter what ticket you got for the livestream you had that content (thank you @dreamingalto for pointing that out!)

his management wasn't necessarily discouraging him, but they did fail to sell the rights to bbc or other similar companies (read @goldenpinof's rb for further details)

in case anyone on twitter sees this, i would like to highlight what i said in the original tags that i am aware this is not a twitter phandom problem and phannies on twt are also complaining abt these type of people - as they should!

#ppl on twt are also upset abt these ppl btw #dan and phil #phan #phil lester #amazingphil #daniel howell #dan howell #danisnotonfire #wad #we’re all doomed

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 7 - ( c.s )

part six

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, smut (oral m!receiving)

a/n: part 7 bay beeeee let’s get it, they’re falling yall 😳

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @55sturn @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @rootbeerworshiper @stonermattsgf @dazednmatthews @chrisactualwife @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18

the following week and a half are a complete haze. between classes and schoolwork and hanging out with chris, it’s been a whirlwind of both pleasure and stress, but you’re not complaining about it.

it’s the most fun you’ve had with a guy in a minute, the most fun you’ve had with anyone in a minute period.

you catch yourself smiling at your phone in class when he texts you silly things throughout the day, or when he gives you a quick call to tell you something crazy. he’s always insisting that you spend the night at his, just so he can wake up with his chin nuzzled into neck and his arm wrapped around your waist.

after practices he’ll pick you up to go get food, or bring something back for you if he stops on the way home instead. you’ve also been to a few of his games since making up, which depending on the result will usually end in some type of fun new sexual escapade.

he never forgets to kiss you hello and goodbye, is constantly giving you his clothes to wear because they “look better” on you, and he even throws his arm around your shoulder in public without shame.

he’s doing the little things, and you have to admit that you really like it.

ramona and cass have caught on at this point, always shooting you sly grins when you say you’re heading out, or that you have plans. you never even mentioned chris by name in the beginning, but they knew.

and despite prior flukes, they both support you whole-heartedly and are always gushing about how different he’s acting. you try not to read into their theories too much, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder.

why would he be putting in effort on all of these extra gestures if he didn’t truly want something more?

he’s already got the sex, so what else does he need?

but one thing you still haven’t fully learned about chris is that he’s selfish. he needs and wants everything, in almost all aspects of his life aside from his romantic interests. that is, until he met you.

and now that he has you, finally, he wants it all. whenever you’re not with him, he’s thinking about you. sometimes it’s the dirtiest fantasies that he’s just waiting to fulfill, and other times it’s wondering what you had for lunch, or what you dreamed about, or what you’re up to with your friends.

when you are with him, he can’t get enough; your smell, the way your hair feels against his palm, the softness of your lips all over him. he adores when he makes you laugh, when you toss one leg around him before the two of you go to sleep, when you’re standing in the crowd supporting him in his jersey.

he even likes when you scrunch your nose in disgust at him after he hits you with yet another cheesy pickup line.

chris has no idea how to handle the intensity of his feelings, or how to identify them. unbeknownst to him, you’re feeling the exact same.

but everything is still normal as you two lounge on his bed, both enjoying the wind down after a long day. the sun is well below the horizon now and you’ve been watching hockey for the past two hours—shocker. but you can feel chris growing restless beside you, hand stroking your thigh lazily.

“alright, what’s your deal?” you ask after he huffs for the fifth time, even though you know he’s just bored.

he pauses to think about it for a moment, rolling his lips between his teeth. then his eyes go wide and a grin takes over his face as you watch an idea form in his mind.

“wanna play super smash brothers?” chris asks, and you feel your own expression light up at the suggestion.

“oh my god, seriously? i didn’t even know that game was still around.” you gush in excitement.

“lucky for you, i’ve got it on my switch.” he wiggles his eyebrows a few times before he leans over to grab the device off of his nightstand.

you stay silent while he props the screen up on top of the covers, sitting up straighter like he’s preparing for war as he hands you a controller.

though the console is a completely foreign thing to you, you used to be decent when you played on the wii several years ago. you have a feeling the skill will translate.

“are you sure you’re ready? i’m a known pro.” he warns you with a smirk as the game loads.

you shrug, deciding not to boast about your own ability just yet. better to leave it a mystery, just in case you do actually suck.

“your threats are unimpressive.”

“i’d hold the sass, princess. we haven’t even started yet. plus,” he drags the word out for effect as he stares at you with a devious look in his eye, “i have a dare for you.”

a snort escapes before you can help it. “so we’re back in middle school now?”

“c’mon, humor me.”

“alright, let me hear it.” you give in, because you are wondering what he has in store.

“every time i beat you, you have to take off a piece of clothing. and every time i lose, if i ever actually lose, i’ll do the same.” chris explains.

it’s an enticing offer. you pretend to contemplate the challenge, tapping on your chin lightly with your pointer finger as you furrow your brows.

“okay, i’ll take the bait.” you finally say.

you don’t plan on being defeated anyways. he’s underestimating you yet again, and you can also tell that he’s surprised by your answer.

but regardless, he gives you a nod of approval. “very daring, i’m impressed.”

“you'll be even more impressed when i kick your ass.” you tease with a smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before you refocus on the task at hand.

“sure i will, now pick your character already.” he prompts, pointing a finger at the screen.

you already know who you’re going to play as, because you used to choose the same fighter pretty much every time. so you use your controls to scroll and select quickly.

“so you’re a kirby girl.” chris notes with a grin, like it makes perfect sense.

“force of habit, i guess.” you respond as you glance down at the switch.

he just shakes his head, clicking on the default stage so that he can get the game ready to go. “that big pink fuck won’t save you now.”

“hey! don’t you dare talk about him like that, he can hear you.” you motion to the screen in offense.

this makes him chuckle, a delightful sound that you’ve come to know and love.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you ready?”

you square your shoulders. “prepare to die, chris sturniolo.”

the game begins a moment later, and neither of you are relaxed in his bed anymore. you’re both quite literally on the edge of your seats, fingers frantically jamming at the controllers.

you’re the first to hit him, watching his XP fade just a little bit as a result. he grunts beside you while he continues throwing aimless attacks your way, eyes narrowed in determination.

he’s next to land a big one, which knocks kirby on his ass for a solid few seconds as chris pummels your character. you’re at nearly half of your health before you escape his grasp, so you grit your teeth and keep battling.

but it’s no use. even though you knock him off of the little island, he delivers the final blow a moment later and pikachu wins the first round.

“shit!” you yell as you watch your own fighter die.

chris throws his arms up in victory, already beaming over the fact that you’ll have to be the first to start stripping. you stare at the screen incredulously before you hang your head in shame.

“i think you owe me something, baby.” he chirps happily.

your mind races, trying to find some loophole to save your dignity. then the sides of your mouth turn up just a bit. you reach down to peel your socks off and toss them to the floor, fully smirking now.

chris shakes a finger at you accusingly, though he’s smiling regardless. “that does not count, you little cheater.”

“it totally does. socks are essential to daily life.” you argue.

he licks his lips as he grips his controller once more. “fine, but you don’t have an excuse after this, and puppy eyes won’t get you out of it.”

“sure they won’t.” you reply innocently, giving him a knowing look.

the next round starts up and this time you come out swinging, sending quite a few damaging hits his way. you’re satisfied with the head start, avoiding him by jumping around on the obstacles in the arena.

every time he’s about to strike, you feel him tense up beside you, so you decide to use it to your advantage. you back up as he advances, once again steering clear of any harm.

then you switch up and go on offense again, sending pikachu up into the air with the last strike of the match.

chris groans in disappointment as you let out a brief cheer, nudging him with your shoulder suggestively.

“i think you owe me something, pretty boy.” you mock him, unable to hide how pleased you are.

he just rolls his eyes in response, reaching to grab the collar of his shirt so he can pull it over his head. you honestly weren’t fully prepared yet, and your mouth goes dry as you watch his muscles clench while he shifts to chuck it to the ground.

you can see some of the hickies you gave him scattered across his collarbones, and although you’re a little embarrassed, it’s also a bit of a turn on.

“distracted?” chris taunts.

you narrow your eyes and turn back to the switch. “never.”

the third round commences and you’re feeling far more confident now. he may have a big ego, but he’s not as good as he made himself out to be, so you’ve at least got a chance.

it’s dead even for a moment while you each go punch for punch, bringing your health down quite a bit. you’re completely zoned in until you feel his hand grip your thigh, inching higher and higher rather quickly.

it makes your stomach flip, and you’re forced to look over at him in surprise. in that moment, you know you lost, because chris removes his fingers just as quickly as they were there and goes for the final kill.

he meets your eyes after he’s secured the second win, pure amusement evident in his expression.

“who’s the cheater now, huh?” you shove him lightly, but he just laughs.

“hey, you never said touching was off limits. i was just using my resources.” chris says, clearly deciding to maintain his innocence.

“that’s total horseshit and you know it. you’re lucky i’m a good sport.”

so you tug your own sweatshirt up, throwing it toward the foot of the bed without a second thought. you’re left in your lacey red bra, though it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before anyways.

but when you glance over, there’s a hungry glint in chris’s eyes that lets you know he's just as excited as the first time. his gaze flicks down to your chest, tilting his head forward a bit so his face is closer to yours.

“jesus, that bra is fucking sexy.” his words sound more like a whine than anything else.

you can feel yourself beginning to shake ever so slightly in anticipation, trying to steady your hands by holding your controller.

“don’t say shit like that to me.” oh, but it sounds so delicious.

“i’m sorry.” chris lies breathlessly.

his lips ghost over your cheek, his teeth clamping down on that sweet spot behind your ear a moment later. you let out a small gasp, placing your hands on his warm chest to push him away.

“we’re supposed to be playing.” you remind him quietly.

everything in your body is screaming for him to pin you to the bed, to let him have his way with you, but you won’t let yourself get carried away that easily. not this time.

“damnit, i’m not going to be able to win with you looking like that right beside me.” chris complains.

“sounds like a you problem.” you brush him off and click the button to start the next round.

you can feel your hands sweating as you move kirby around the stage. you know exactly what you’re doing now, walking right into his attacks as if you’re practically begging to die.

the attention chris gave you after you lost last time was intense, and you can only imagine how it’ll go once you take off your pants too.

so, you let yourself lose. pikachu defeats kirby swiftly, and now it’s time to face the consequences.

“you suck at this.” he grins widely after your third loss, clearly content.

but you don’t say anything. you just lay back, lifting your hips up so you can wiggle your sweats down your legs. you kick them off at the foot of the mattress, enjoying the way chris’s eyes go wide as he watches you.

“you’re evil, you know?” his voice is dangerously low as you sit back up, confidence flooding through your veins.

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from smiling like a cheshire cat. “what are you gonna do about it?”

he opens his mouth like he’s going to tell you, and then changes his mind.

“nothing.”

not the answer you were expecting. you furrow your brows, completely thrown for a loop, when you get your own brilliant idea. an idea he won’t be able to resist, literally and figuratively.

“fine, then i have a game for you.” you say, trying to provoke him.

“i’m listening.” he sounds intrigued.

“let’s see how long you can go without touching me, because i bet you won’t last more than a minute. but i can do whatever i want.” your voice gets sultry at the end as you glance down at his mouth.

chris feels all of the blood rush to his dick just thinking about the dare, already turned on from seeing you in your tiny matching set. he knows he won’t be able to contain himself, but he doesn’t care.

“filthy girl.” he purrs, nodding his head yes.

you watch him situate himself against the pillows, laying so you can roll to your knees and straddle him. his eyes roam your body, lips tilted into a lopsided smile as he relishes the feeling of your silky skin on his.

your hands go to his bare shoulders, steadying yourself as you lean down to give him a brief kiss. you move to his jaw before he can get to into it, taking your time as you finally reach his neck. he spreads his hands out on the comforter, gripping it harshly to prevent himself from giving in.

your hips rock against him agonizingly slow, and you can feel his hard on as you grind your cunt into it. fingers trail down his stomach, raking at the skin lightly.

he’s choking on his breath underneath you, trying so hard not to buck into your movements even though he wants to so bad. you’re careful, leaving open-mouth kisses in new areas in the hopes of giving him more hickies.

chris’s eyes flutter closed, lips parted in bliss as a small whine escapes, and you can tell he’s just itching to truly feel you.

you move your face up so you’re right by his ear, whispering your next words without hesitation.

“come on baby, touch me. i know you want to.”

it’s your first time using the pet name with him, and you can tell by the groan he lets out that it’s enough to send him over the edge.

his hands reach to grip your ass, rocking you against him harder as he gives one side a little slap. chris tilts his head so he can capture your mouth with his for a real kiss, tongue and teeth meshing together beautifully.

when you pull away his lips are glossy and red, which you always love seeing. you shift yourself off of him so your hands can move toward his sweats, fingers dipping below the waistband just slightly as you look up at him for permission.

chris nods eagerly, biting down on his lip and squirming around for any kind of contact. you steady his hips with your hands, clicking your tongue once in distaste.

“you better be patient, or i won’t do a damn thing.” you chide.

“i’ll be good. so good.” he promises, practically pleading with you now.

the neediness ignites a fire in your stomach, so you slowly begin to work his pants and boxers down his legs. his erection bounces free, slapping against his stomach, and you feel your mouth watering just looking at it.

once you’ve officially discarded his clothes, you position yourself between his legs so that you’re eye-level with his cock. he’s already throbbing at the sight, waiting as you spit in your palm and wrap it around the base of his shaft.

chris lets out a moan as you start to move your hand up and down ever so slowly, making sure to tease as much as possible because you know how sensitive he is right now. your run your thumb over his slit, which is leaking with precum, and he trembles in your grasp.

after a moment like this, you finally bring your head down, wrapping your lips around him and swirling your tongue across his tip.

“fuckkk.” he hisses through his teeth, reaching to wrap a hand in your hair messily.

you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, using your hand on the part you can’t reach as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head slightly. your other palm rests on his thigh, steadying yourself as you suck his dick.

“feels amazing.” he praises through a whimper, involuntarily bucking into your throat now.

you can feel him pulling you by the hair, forcing you to take more of him as tears brim your eyes. you know he’s getting close just based on the way he’s beginning to shake, so you pick up your pace a bit.

“shit, baby, just like that.” chris groans, his body shuddering as you work your tongue.

he’s breathing heavy now, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut, hair messy across his forehead. his grip on you tightens, a dead giveaway that he’s about to come.

“fuck, fuck, i’m—”

you feel him twitch in your mouth, body completely tense as his orgasm spills down your throat. his hand untangles from your hair so you can pull away to swallow, brushing stray strands from your face.

his chest rises and falls heavily as he lays there, riding out the high before he peels his eyes open to look at you through the bleariness.

“you’re incredible.” chris says as he reaches for your hand, pulling you down into bed beside him.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch that you’re not used to, and you feel your stupid little heart melt.

“and you’re getting soft on me, mister tough guy.” you joke, poking his side like you're making a point.

“for you, i think i can live with that.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #hockey!au #neighbor au #christopher sturniolo smut

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie x reader x steve #steddie #cw weed #weed ment #tw weed

[kenntolog]

….. what if sukuna steals you’re phone while you’re scrolling on it and you magically pull a book out from behind your back because you predicted him to do that……

Bonus if he takes that too and closes it without a bookmark as he watches the smirk leave your face

an: hey anon!! sorry for the delay, hope u enjoy this :)) read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!

one thing that never fails to piss sukuna off if when people, specifically you, ignore him.

at first, whenever you start ignoring him — usually because he’s been too mean with his comments or behaviour towards you or has done something to make you really mad — his tactic is to just ignore you back. but that’s boring, sukuna gets bored so easily that he realises how pathetic he actually is. he even finds silence with you not boring. he could sleep on your chest at least.

so then, sukuna tries to woo you with affection; he kisses up your arms and call you his baby, his pretty girl and his one and only woman, he shoves his head between your arms and chest to kiss your face and not let you watch whatever the fuck you are watching on your phone(or reading, maybe even drawing). that usually is enough to melt the ice and say something resembling apologies.

if that doesn’t work, then it’s time for heavy artillery — he just takes your phone, throwing it away somewhere with no care and watches the way your unmoving features turn shocked and you finally talk to him(start complaining until he shuts you up with a kiss).

this time you seem to be prepared because when he takes your phone you pull out a damn book from under your pillow.

“what the hell?” sukuna curses at you, frowning when he notices the confident curve of your lips as you indulge yourself once again.

so after another period of silence he just rips the book out of your hand. at that you just stare at him, still stonefaced, just a curious brow raised.

that is until sukuna flips through the pages and closes the book quickly, letting the bookmark fall off somewhere, unable to contain his laughter at the sight of your smirk immediately disappearing.

“sukuna!”

he continues cackling like a maniac, clearly enjoying the bewilderment of your tone and happy that you finally talked to him.

“you’re such an ass,” you grumble, taking the book from him and frantically looking through pages to find the one you were reading last. “who even does that? that’s pure evil.”

he watches you with a sickly satisfied smile on his pleased face and takes the book away from once again, this time minding the bookmark you placed. sukuna wraps his arms around you tightly, bringing you to his chest.

“shouldn’t have ignored me for so long, loser, y’know i hate it.”

“that’s why i did it.”

“i will burn your book.”

you look up at him with a scared expression, suspecting that he might just really do that if you carry on, and he just continues smiling down at you like nothing happened. leaning down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, sukuna finally feels you give into his touch, relaxing in his hold as you start rambling(complaining) about him being mean while he just dismisses everything you say, your soft voice lulling him to sleep.

#— miya writes! #sukuna x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna

[bigfatbimbo]

vees' collective dom but the one who just wants to live a peaceful life or something else that leads them to bonk (sometimes physically) vees off doing their villainous things. no, vox, you're NOT dealing with that deer tonight, we've agreed to watch a movie. no, val, you don't overwork your staff, it's fucking noisy. vel, don't you dare ever talk to other overlords like that again, it's risky

tbh, I had an image in my head about such reader complaining about vees' manipulations while some (another) punishment. like that vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful, so why not he put that stupid head of his to better use on your chest and nothing more. vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is. and val? wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit, so why he won't keep all of his hands to himself and try to be more romantic, sitting behind you, tied so well so he's only able to talk and he better do that

- 🦊

Basically a reader almost (definitely) manipulating the Vees into being less evil. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD!!!

So i’ve had very similar thoughts to this for a while and i’m going to tell you exactly why this would work. Quick lore drop about me but I used to be such a lowkey shady businessman (not explaining anymore than this, i’m healed) and let me just say, people like them are actually very easy to manipulate.

AKA greedy, power hungry, egotistical maniacs. What they do is terrible, thats no denying that, but they think very highly of themselves and their skills. So ‘stop abusing your employees’ not from a moral standpoint, but from a competence standpoint. That sells.

Like the whole “vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful” thing would absolutely work. It’s a hit against his ego and self competence, and because of the fragility in his facade, it would absolutely cause insecurity.

And reinforcing it with very rough, degrading, dumbifaction style sex would absolutely still have him thinking the next day. He’s sucking your tits or dick or something and you’re making comments like “Aw, look. A job you’re almost good at. Too bad that little head of yours can’t even think of anything useful to society.” Make him cry, you definitely can when it’s a knock at his intelligence and power.

“vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is.” Oh boy, I know this would get to her. Velvette thinks she’s hot shit, no, she knows she is. So now you’re overstimulating her and making fun of her because really? You had to use, even better, actually put time in to create a whole ass love potion, because not enough people wanted to fuck you?

She’d whine and tell you that’s not why, but come on. I mean, why be that hell bent on something so futile, we both know she’s not selfless enough to just give that away to virgin creeps all over pride. Oh Velvette, who’s came countless times and who’s pussy aches and has makeup running down her face, now has to her your call out on her confidence, and how it’s only boosted by her useless, forceful grab for others attention.

And Val, there’s so much ground to cover. “wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit.” Personal callout to his craft, which is clearly just as self indulgent as it is tiring. Your actors look so battered, Val. That’s not a good look, and isn’t that the point? Sex won’t sell if the people aren’t sexy, and that stars cracked lip is positively hideous.

There’s no intimacy, and you doubt someone as talentless as him can even achieve romance. So now he’s tied up on the bed, barely able to move as you sit across from him, not just bored, but reading a book or scrolling on your phone. He’s practically crying out cliche, used lines to romance you, and failing miserably when the whine creeps in.

So basically, the angle with Vox is his fragile power, Velvettes her unimpressive beauty, and Valentino is the implication of him not having a grasp on sex. Oh also fucking them to drill it in their head. Because what, people? Something that impacts the control over their work-life and sex-life will stick. Sex and power go hand and hand when the greedy are lustful.

Now are the results?

Well, Vox would make a show of making more useful products, and still use hypnosis, obviously he’s a shitbag, but there’d be a new level of self-hatred that comes with it, meaning it’d happen less.

Well, Velvettes is a little harder to just… take back as the product is already out there. However, the product promotion goes down ever so slightly because yes, money and power is great, but you’ve done something no one can do. Embarrassed our confident queen.

Valentino actually thinks before hitting an employee to hard, and actually lets actors have conversations because apparently people should have… chemistry? He doesn’t know, he just doesn’t want his porn to be boring or not sexy. His other issue (assault, i’m talking about assault) is not resolved he just leaves less marks.

You’ve successfully watered down a problem for a long-term (but not permanent) period of time. This could be even longer if also plant the idea of falling from power in their head.

Simply “What were you before an overlord? A sinner. What are your employees? Sinners. If you treat these employees to harshly, what will they do? Rebel. To successfully keep and manipulate your power you need your workers to feel more than obligation, but loyalty to you. Not your company or their job. You. Otherwise, keep in mind how other overlords have fallen.”

If you ever try this from a morality standpoint, it won’t work. The angle is power, people, because they will never stop being abusive for the right reasons. However, your domineering behavior in bed has earned you an amount of respect.

I fear I sounded evil in this um… never have this mindset for people who aren’t corrupt evil rapists. Also, I don’t think I talked about the smut aspect enough sorry, I just love character analysis. OH ALSO I haven’t been a sinister salesman since I was 16, everybody, calm down. Everyone has an angle though!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #the vees x reader #sub vox #sub velvette #sub valentino #sub vees

[moodymisty]

Would you be comfortable writing some courting headcanons for the primarchs?? Thank you!!

Author's note: Here you go, they're sort of random but I hope you enjoy them.

Warnings: Fem!Reader for some like Lion’el because of words like Legion Mother, A few very slightly lewd remarks

Fulgrim:

The primarch who out of all has most devoted himself to things like the arts is nothing short of overwhelming, when he first expressed his desire for you. Flowers, paintings, clothing, food, whatever it is you enjoy, all of it gets gifted to you with no small amount of theatrics. Though thankfully, Fulgrim knows when to turn it down a bit, and you can enjoy his company. Even then however he is still very intense, kisses on the hand, the lips, and gentle caresses abound as he woos you with his silver tongue. His legion is also one of the few who at the start know about Fulgrim's intentions, and actually takes it decently well. Far better than other legions, when finding out their Primarch is indulging in romance. You are the socialite, the shining star in a room and the talk of everyone there, and Fulgrim will have it no other way. But as much as he does all this, he finds it cute if you’re shy or nervous about it. Shyness isn’t in his dna, so he finds it very adorable. You often get purfumed, hand written letters when he is away. Fulgrim has quite the way with words, and many of them you’re glad the one who reads them are him and you.

Perturabo:

He might be a petulant manchild at times, but when the mood strikes him Perturabo can be a bit softer. It helps that you're one of the few people he trusts, now that the two of you are so close. Though it may often be more trouble than it's worth, with how often his mood changes. Perturabo can go from lavishing you with Olympian clothes to sulking in his workshop for hours if not days, leaving you to eventually wander down there and find him, and bring him out of his petulant sulk. A gentle hand on his own, asking if he can explain to you what he’s working on tends to help. Perturabo also becomes very possessive of you, not long after he starts courting you. If Dorn, Sanguinius or Lorgar so much as look at you the wrong way, he's more than ready for a fight. He has one person in his life who hasn’t wronged him, who actually respects him, and he isn’t losing that. Those softer moments with him as he speaks of his plans for amphitheaters and bathhouses while you lay in his arms are worth it, however.

Lion’el Jonson:

Lion'el is, complicated. Part of him wonders how he even got here, something as frivolous as romance was never a significant part of his mind. But here he is. He can’t complain, as he’s become so used to you now that often times, his nose wrinkles anytime he’s away and casts sight on an empty bed. He doesn’t say anything about it, however. Part of him laments he isn't able to give you rides on horseback, as he's far outgrown the horses he rode in his younger years. Though he can walk beside you, even if his men think it's demeaning of his position. Is painfully blunt about some things, and extremely obtuse about others. He wishes to marry you? Blunt. You get a military parade dedicated to showing the galaxy the Dark Angels new Legion Mother with no warning. He wishes for you to wear the colors of his legion and match him so when you arrive on Terra everyone knows who you are with? Vague and obtuse, he will grunt about every option until you choose the one he likes.

Rogal Dorn:

As with all parts of his life, he's extremely stoic and at first, you don't think anything's changed. He's the type that listens to the things you talk about, and silently gives them to you. For instance as a newcomer to Inwit it's incredibly cold, but your current dress just doesn't cut it for the harsh wind and un-acclimated body. You find a new one on your bed three days later made perfect and exactly how you like it, but Dorn says nothing about it. Those few late night moments alone when he brings you into his office, and you sit at his desk while he works are some of his favorite. Dorn gets to feel you safe in his arms, and while he’ll never say it out loud, he is overwhelmed in his love for you. Does not tell any of his fellow primarchs about you. The day they realize Dorn has a beloved is a stressful one, they’re all sneaking around trying to get information about you, and Dorn almost has to lock you in his quarters and shoo them all away. Is surprising talkative in written word. His letters or anything else tend to be very long, talking about the ins and outs of his legion, and their current progress. You’ve never heard him talk half that much in person, it’s sweet. Though once in a while those letters can get a bit salacious; And Dorn is nothing if not detailed.

Leman Russ:

This man's declaration that he wanted to court you was as brash and blunt as he is. You're pretty sure he was half way into sleeping with how drunk he was at the time, a massive hand on your shoulder as he smiles with a red face. Granted when he sobered up he was far more, romantic about it. By his standards. He still stunk of mjød, but at least he held your hand. From that moment on however Russ isn't a man shy of showing off, and wastes no opportunity to plop you in his lap and give you a kiss, pick you up off the ground, or say something far too inappropriate for the current locale. Whether it's day two or day two hundred, he finds keeping himself off of you too much trouble. He’s the type to make others turn away with how overt his affection is. Every one of his kisses and hugs feel like he’s treating it as the last one he’ll ever do. Loves when you comb and braid his hair. It takes awhile and he has no patience for it, but he enjoys when you do it.

Ferrus Manus:

As a recurring theme with all of these, Ferrus finds it a bit hard to show how he feels. While he has moments where he cracks a smile, often times he’s largely stoic. As such, he never really asked you to be with him, it was something that simply progressed overtime. He doesn’t invite you into his quarters and his bed if you aren’t his beloved, he assumes it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. Late night workshop time is a must. Ferrus can spend days in there with no issue, and oftentimes you have to come and climb into his lap if you want any time with him at all. He doesn’t mind as as long as you’re quiet; Though over time he’s begun to enjoy explaining his plans to you if you aren’t asleep. If you are asleep, sometimes he gets a bit emotional and talks or thinks to himself. He never thought he’d have someone like you when he lived on Medusa, he just needed to survive. Is actually somewhat hesitant when you first are together. Ferrus is well aware of his size (both out and in the bedroom, or any other local where he deems sex a daring and intriguing idea), and often tries to be quite gentle. It took a bit of coaxing to finally treat you like you weren’t made of glass. You get surprise gifts from Fulgrim at times. Some are sweet; Some are… They’re hidden until Ferrus returns from where ever he’s currently away to at the time and you can surprise him.

Horus:

The same as Fulgrim; Excessive and grandiose, but unlike Fulgrim, there's a tad more subtlety to it. But only a tad. Horus still is eager to show off the love of his life (and so much more that he’s kept just in his head shh), but he’s aware that sometimes you require a bit more subtlety. For a primarch, he’s quite the romantic. Though there’s only so much you can do when you have thousands of gene-sons waiting on orders and don’t exactly get why their primarch is holding your tiny hand and helping you walk down the thunderhawk’s ramp. You can do it yourself, they think. He can also be quite a bit grandiose in the theoretical sense. Horus seems to have your entire future together planned, and he’ll speak it to you during very late nights with stars in his eyes. To marry you, to bring you into his legion as the mother of his gene-sons, to give you your own child one day. He’s more than a bit overwhelming, but it helps he’s so charismatic.

Angron:

I... I hope you're patient. Angron isn’t one that is fond of things like romance. For multiple reasons. One being that it brings him pain because of the Nails, and the other being that in many ways, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He’s a slave, he’s a monster, he’s a man who failed his people, men like him don’t get to have someone like you. But you stay anyways despite the fear of him loosing control of the Nails, and eventually Angron supposes that there’s more annoying people to have around. He’s far more applicable to this in his early days. The Nails haven’t degraded his mental state yet, and his legion is still fresh faced and eager to prove their worth. If Angron accepts you, they will as well then. The downside is that many of the primarchs worry about Angron’s relationship and subsequent attachment to you, and the danger it brings. Some for your safety, but mostly for the fact that now that Angron is so deeply attached, if something were to happen to you it would well be within the possibility that Angron would completely loose control of the Nails, and become an unstoppable threat that would have to be put down. On the other hand, it seems that you can calm him down a bit, as much as the Nails will allow, something that not many are able to do. A double edged sword, your love is to him. Often times you have to restrain him during anything, strenuous. It’s for your own safety, though it seems like Angron doesn’t hate it either.

Roboute Guilliman:

The most traditional out of them all. He follows the 'rules' so strictly you have wonder if he's following some sort of manuscript. Your relationship progresses at a very methodical pace, which is a bit odd but you find it oddly sweet he puts so much thought into it. He does little more than hold your hand, kisses and anything heavier are strictly private; If it wasn't for the longing, puppy dog look in his eyes, no one would guess you two were anything more. He's not overt about it like Horus or Fulgrim, but you are still absolutely smothered in gifts. From jewelry to clothing to weird purfumes he's been gifted by high lords attempting to earn his favor through you (Guilliman has made it very obvious that he's not the type to be swayed by gifts but they hope you are and will put in a good word with your beloved), you quickly find yourself constantly or the receiving end of some sort of lavish gift. Roboute is very much in love, it's just hard for him to admit it. As you come to understand his own little love language is the day he's a very happy man. On a bonus note: It is very easy to get this man to completely melt for you. If it’s been a stressful time for him and he’s stressed, giving him a bit of a hand will make him a bit bashful, but overwhelmingly thankful.

Sanguinus:

As kind as he is beautiful, Sanguinius is one of the more heartfelt ones around. Romance abound, the angel and you are the textbook example of star crossed lovers the moment he proposes courtship to you. It almost makes some of the primarchs jealous at how incredibly perfect your love for each other is, like your feet don’t touch the ground He loves to pick you up and give you a hug or a kiss, wrapping you in his wings. He always says it's just so you feel safer, but he also likes the bit of privacy, hiding you from the worlds in his arms. You also enjoy playing with his wings when you’re in private, as they’re quite sensitive. A side note; He thinks it's cute that you use his fallen feathers as bookmarks and quills, and he now gifts you a few of his fallen primary feathers every now and again for you to use. You’ll know about the Red Thirst eventually when you’re with him. Sanguinius won’t ever ask for assistance, but if you were to offer a bit of blood? He’s incredibly careful, but the blood of his lover is nothing short of ambrosia and he will dutifully treat you afterward for sating his appetite.

Jaghatai Khan:

As one of the more reasonable primarchs, Jaghatai is a steal to have as your lover. He’s personable and kind, and funny to boot. He enjoys making you laugh, something his sons have picked up on. Sometimes they’ll tease you (or more likely unsuspecting commissars) when you’re in their company. If he's not able to hold your hand, he'll have a hand on your shoulder or back, always close to you whenever you're both together. He’s extremely dedicated to Chogoris, and it’s incredibly important to him that you adopt some of the culture he grew up in. You don’t have to, but it would make Jagahatai an extremely proud man if you attempted to understand Chogoran. He’s also private; His fellow primarchs don’t even know of your existence let alone close relation to him until you’re well into your romance, and Jaghatai has thoughts for no one else but you.

Konrad Curze:

Konrad’s romance is as toxic as he is. But at the same time, it’s like a drug you can’t get enough of. Because you’re fucking terrified of him, but the man is obsessed with you. Not many of the other primarchs understand the soul crushing, teeth grinding obsession Konrad has for you. He’s willing to fall to his knees and submit to you as long as you tell him you love him, and that he's worth more alive. But if you tell him you don’t?… You don’t want to tell him you don’t. Konrad is painful. He holds your hand too tight, kisses you too rough, bites you too hard. He doesn’t mean it, you don’t think at least some of the time, but he’s so caught in this obsession with someone trying to save him that his martyr complex melts away for a bit and he’s this self-loathing, sad excuse of a man. You almost pity him as much as you love him. Making him happy has become an arduous journey for you. Is the exact opposite of the others in wanting to show you off. You’re hidden for ages, until the primarchs realize Konrad has someone at his side. They worry, but they know separating him from you would cause more harm than good, and you keep Konrad’s emotions a bit more in check. And in the eyes of a few individuals, your safety serves as a good threat to keep Konrad and his unhinged legion on a leash and working towards a desired goal. A note; Konrad is surprisingly selfless in regard to more intimate matters. And he likes to bite. Your thighs don’t get much reprieve from him.

Vulkan:

Sweet as sugar, no one is as good at a proper declaration of love or desire to romance like Vulkan is. No matter how much it breaks his back he’ll always hold your hand, give you a kiss, or pick you up to bring you with him across the Flamewrought or the Terran palace. Besides perhaps Sanguinius and Lorgar, no one is as star-crossed in love with you as Vulkan is.

He’ll do anything for you, if you just ask. He often paraphrases that he would shield you from any threat, but sometimes you fear he’d do it literally. Less seriously he loves to gift you various things, your favorite being a necklace. You never thought he’d be able to work at such a small level, but Vulkan is nothing if not skilled. He got quite the reward the evening he gifted it to you.

Is one of the quicker ones to get serious. Talks of marrying you, writing you down in the history of his legion as their Legion Mother, Vulkan is quite eager to tie himself to you, and you to him.

Corvus Corax:

Corvus is private, and also quite slow to trust. Even slower to admit he likes someone, let alone enough to express that he’s in love with them. Many moments with him are often spent in his private quarters or somewhere else alone, where only you have eyes on him.

Is one of the few primarchs conscious of the fact that he isn’t really meant to exist, and that he’s forcing it by being with you. Your body often bruises and aches if he isn’t careful with you, and it secretly pains him that the one person he loves is so easy for him to hurt. Finding out about this feeling he has swiftly turns you into a mess of reassurances that quickly overwhelm poor Corvus, and while he still feels it at times, he appreciate you trying to soothe him.

Loves to write you letters. He feels like it means more to put the effort into handwriting, and when you send him one back, it’s like he can feel your touch on the paper. One time you left a lipstick kiss on the parchment and the man was insufferable that evening from how pent up he was, unbeknownst to you millions of miles away. You paid for that transgression dearly one he returned.

Lorgar Aurelian:

Lorgar is yet another primarch who is sweet as sugar. He also has quite the way with words, though unlike Horus and Fulgrim, it isn’t intentional. He’s just very passionate and verbose. Is also very touchy. Loves to pick you up and kiss you, show you off to others. He’s so stupidly in love and everyone around him is almost annoyed by it. He just loves his tiny little goddess so much, you bring him light he didn’t know he needed. Lorgar is also very affected by his religious trauma. His self flagellation both emotional and literal has always been an issue. You’ve had nights where you’ve put ice on his back after he whipped himself bloody, crying over his wounds. If it isn’t bad he encourages you to not weep over him, and if it’s worse he often times is beating himself up over worrying you. Being with him is stressful emotionally, to say the least. In another path, he often time beats himself up over the idea of corrupting you with sinful thoughts. Though that doesn’t really stop him, especially if he comes to his quarters one evening seeing you wearing all white draped across his bed. Lorgar will sin alright, but he does it while speaking prayers to save his own soul as he worships you. He’s one of the quickest Primarchs to want to marry you, to make you his own and to bring you closer and closer to his side.

Mortarion:

Mortarion isn’t an easy one to love. He doesn’t really consider the emotion valuable until one day he suddenly realizes that you mean something to him, more than just another baseline human does. Like Ferrus in that he never does the official courtship nonsense, and just upgrades your relationship in his head overtime. Someone who isn’t his lover doesn’t spend hours in the Pale King’s study watching him work, keeping one of his hands in their lap while he uses the other. Is a bit of a pushover in some ways, and takes his self loathing a bit too far sometimes. You’ve learned that sometimes he needs you to kiss him and tell him you love him more than anything else, to get him to stop sulking. Everyone is extremely surprised he found sometime. Let alone someone so personable. Fulgrim jokes that Mortarion should just send you instead of himself to Terra when the primarchs meet up to discuss things, as you’re easier to deal with. Mortarion hates when things like that are said, and he’ll hide you from the world obsessively for awhile after. He loves you, but sometimes for him love and possess get intertwined in his head when he thinks for you.

Magnus the Red:

Isn’t the worst beloved to have, but he has his quirks. He can be a bit stuffy at times, and often times forgets that relationships needs nurturing to grow. Magnus often times gets stuck in his own head and forgets everyone around him, including you. Loves to show off his warp magic to you, especially if you show literally any interest at all. He’s so used to everyone fearing it, fearing him, hating psykers no matter what, that any interest by you gives him hearts in his eyes. You’ll be up all night listening to him read you tomes. Which you don’t mind, it often helps you fall asleep. Since Magnus can change his size, he knows exactly how to make your squirm. You know you’re in for a wild ride when your beloved becomes bigger than Ferrus and starts taking off his armor.

AlphariusOmegon:

The twins are complicated. Given the primarchs consider you only Alpharius’ beloved, you spend more time with him than Omegon. As such, sometimes Omegon can get a bit possessive whenever you two are together. You don’t entirely blame Omegon for it; His other half is the one holding your hand and showing you off, joking about marrying you to his fellow primarchs. As such, those topics tend to be a minefield in your weird little relationship. They often use you to get information about the other Primarchs. It seems your smaller stature makes them almost seem like you're less of a threat, and get a bit more talkative around you than they are around whatever twin is currently frontfacing. You hate when they ask this of you, but you have no power to refuse them. As the twins are extremely meticulous and through, they've been careful to not show anyone how in love with you they really are. If they how just how much Alpharius loves you, it would be easy for you to be used against them. So affection is limited, and they put up an aura that you're not much more than an arm piece when in view of others. They eagerly make sure to show you this isn't the case in private, however.

#fulgrim x reader #perturabo x reader #alphariusomegon x reader #roboute guilliman x reader #jaghatai khan x reader #magnus the red x reader #lorgar aurelian x reader #konrad curze x reader #rogal dorn x reader #mortarion x reader #horus lupercal x reader #corvus corax x reader #angron x reader #vulkan x reader #sanguinius x reader #ferrus manus x reader #leman russ x reader #lion'el jonson x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Hello! I’d love to read your vision of the LoD boys x MC in high school. (High school to adults, just high school, childhood. Anything!) Alllll the cliches appreciated, haha.

Coming-of-Age HC's with the LADS Guys

pairing: fem!reader x Zayne, fem!reader x Xavier, fem!reader x Rafayel

content: fluff, alternate universe (kinda)

Childhood with Zayne is filled with increasingly hot summers and snowy winters. It’s memories of an extroverted young girl dragging along her much more introverted best friend (well, Caleb’s friend first) to make popsicles under the blaze of the June sun and snowmen in the cold of January. In the same way snow melts with the coming of spring, you chip his shell away, making a friendship that’s stronger than any of your lifetimes.

Those years with Zayne are like a pleasant dream, soft and gentle, like his hand when he wipes away the tears from your cheeks whenever you fall or when he places a band-aid on one of the many injuries prone to an adventurous spirit.

Middle School with Zayne is when you first feel fragility in your friendship. You’re realizing you might be growing in different directions.

Zayne is intelligent, often getting attention for his grades and participating in scholars tournaments while you’re busy with your own hobbies and friends that come with them.

There’s hope your friendship will persevere each time you walk home together, each time he lets you share his umbrella on heavy rainy days, and each day he saves to spend with you.

High school with Zayne is confusing. Growing into adulthood is an exciting and nervous situation for anyone but even more-so when everyone but you seem to realize that you have feelings for your childhood friend.

Your grandma is constantly reminding you how smart and handsome Zayne has become. He’s going to study to be a doctor, you know! Maybe you should ask him to prom?

Caleb complains about how Zayne usually takes your side in arguments and does what you want all the time. He frequently teases you every time you sigh over the older boy. Isn’t getting a crush on your older brother’s friend too obvious?

They’re right though, and it’s awkward. What’s more awkward is the stolen kiss with Zayne in the new car his parents got him when he first got his license. You don’t talk about it even after he goes to college.

Meeting Zayne as an adult is nostalgic yet new as you learn about each other again. The trust you had in each other never truly left.

With each trinket, you realize he’s still the same Zayne, quiet and stern on the outside but with a patient and gentle center. However, his smart mouth still rears its head as frequently as it did back in high school.

You watch out for him more as an adult, because you see that he isn’t actually good at caring for himself despite all his intelligence. You make it so he can rely on you to get through the past days and future ones.

You try new things together. You adapt to how your views of the world differ so you can mold those differences together, creating one shared experience in the life you build with one another.

Childhood with Xavier is innocent. Being born on Philos is like being born in a fantasy book. Your world is sword training and ceremony rehearsals, your feet always chasing after the decorated knights and lightseekers before they board their spaceships. In your mind, the world is as limitless as the starry sky promised just beyond its surface.

Xavier is the same way. He says he likes sword training because it’s the only thing he’s good at. Truthfully, he loves that sword, carries it around with him everywhere like a third arm, and you love training with your new fellow student.

As you get older, things start to change for reasons you don’t really understand. The loss of innocence is slow, dragging out like the death of a star. It starts when silly days sword practicing becomes military drills. Then, Xavier’s ceremony rehearsals become real with each trial he has to overcome. It culminates when you find out that he will probably be betrothed one day against his will, which manifests into doubt that you would ever be on the list for a prince to marry.

Military Academy with Xavier offers a surprising amount of freedom as you discover yourself away from the watchful eyes of the royal family. It’s reintroducing him to your favorite snacks and music and sneaking out of the barracks to watch the stars and anything else he couldn’t do under the iron grip of his family.

There’s also many nights helping him study and focus so he can become the best version of himself because he still has rebellious tendencies after all these years.

These tendencies lead you to covering for him and also him talking you into one too many bad ideas. Ideas that leave you carrying one another home on stumbling legs after too many rounds with random wanderers or rounds with liquor way stronger than you know how to deal with.

It’s okay. You have each other to keep the other safe, so attached at the hip that Jeremiah always wonders where the other one is whenever he catches the two of you apart.

His light shines only for you. If you asked, he would give anything to make sure you’re happy: his time, his freedom, his life.

The jealousy and longing to be with you grates against the cage his title keeps around him whenever he sees someone else who has seen your light and fallen in love with you too. It’s written love letters, never signed, but left in your locker, the ones that smell like forget-me-nots and written in a prose that Xavier hopes you won’t recognize as his when he sees you fawning over the little notes.

Your looming graduation reignites the worries about your relationship. You have to come to terms with your respective role as a knight and Xavier as King. Xavier feels the same way.

Yet this part of your life quickly becomes filled with sweet nothings – promises to run away together, carried on his wishes to be with you for the rest of immortality, all wrapped in the little star charm carried on his sword. It makes you realize your feelings were requited all along.

Adulthood with Xavier fills like achieved dreams and nights you never want to end. It’s basking in the company of one another, adorned with kisses and released longing that couldn’t be given years prior.

It’s becoming more than just his guiding starlight but his entire galaxy, and he shows it with each kiss he gives you.

Childhood with Rafayel feels like you’re dreaming. Mermaids aren’t supposed to exist but there’s one right in front of you.

You learn so many things from him. He loves talking about almost anything from his culture to your culture. He loves art, the sunset, and music.

You bring him lots of things from land that you think he would like, spending long days at the beach trading items with him and showing him human toys. It becomes normal to strike out early every weekend to meet the Lemurian boy again and again.

He braids Lemurian ribbons and clips seashell accessories into your hair. He teaches you Lemurian lullabies and sayings. He often gets in trouble for accidentally gifting you family heirlooms without realizing the weight of said items. He just thought it was pretty. Even if he got in trouble, it was worth it to see you smile.

Your time together eventually develops into trying to think of ideas to explore further from the beach. You train to hold your breath a little longer with hopes of making it further into the sea than last time.

Your first kiss is because of the legend that Lemurian kisses can let one breathe underwater. It wasn’t really a big deal back then. However, the memory of it makes your face hot many years later when you think back on it.

The end of summer marks the slowdown of your free time together. It always ends with a pinky promise to spend your next free day with him.

Your 8th grade year with Rafayel is a collage of photos and videos filled with cawing seagulls, the serenade of his harmonica, and the first time your feet were able to touch the surface of the water. Rafayel always seems to want to show off his new powers as the next God of the Sea.

He’s still a child though, which means he is still insistent to sneak to school with you to see what human classes are like. He still talks too smartly to the other students, and you still have to talk him out of a fight with one of the other boys.

It’s an exhausting day but he seemed to have fun running around town with you, saving the day in the strip of pictures printed out from the photo booth and the memory of his first surface world sunset.

Your later teenage years offer even less time together but each time you visit him feels more meaningful than the last even though you can’t go further than the crackle of a bonfire at the edge of the beach. You’re happy with these late nights though because you love the boy from another world.

No matter how many years pass, he’ll always be the boy who gets shy and makes excuse after excuse to avoid singing for you despite being born a siren. He’s the boy who constantly complains about his classmates being idiots for saying you’re going to steal his blood and make him into oil and how they tease him for being friends with a human. He refuses to tell you that it’s more because of his crush on a human. Despite all that, he has no issue dropping hint after hint about how Lemurians can bond with others by giving one of their scales.

Years later, it still makes a lovely necklace to wear when he finally makes his choice to be on land, with you, his beloved bride.

#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #zayne fluff #rafayel fluff

[papayadays]

daisies - f1 driver x engineer!fem char

warnings: none, angst, nothing f1 related explicitly mentioned but implied, driver can be whoever you want, enjoy! this is my first piece of writing so any feedback is greatly appreciated!!

It was always the flowers. Everything came back to the flowers. Every single moment shared was somehow linked to them.

One daisy.

He had showed up to her place, knocking on the door quietly, but with a sense of urgency that left her wondering who was at the door. It was the weekend, and she was traveling for her job, which she did constantly. Not that she was complaining though. She loved her job, the thrill of knowing she was a part of something so big was an adrenaline rush. It was amazing.

She was on the couch, looking over some data on her computer when four short knocks echoed through the hotel room. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stood up, dusting off some crumbs from the snack she had been indulging in. Opening the door, she was met with him. He was wearing a black hoodie with some grey sweats but the most striking thing in that moment was what was in his hand. A single daisy. His smile widened, the one that many were used to seeing, as he held out the flower to her.

“Hey,” he grinned as she took the flower, spinning it between her fingers to observe it. “Can I come in?”

“I thought I said no date?” she asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t date people I work with. Especially not…”

“Are you really working with me, per se?” he countered, a smug expression on his face. His dimples were visible as she enjoyed the sound of his accent. “C’mon, we just had a win today. Let’s just chill.”

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile formed on her face. Technically it was a podium, but whatever. “Fine,” she conceded. “But this is not a date.” She pointed a finger at him, but he merely pushed it away.

“Agree to disagree,” he shrugged, glancing at her computer. “Data from today?” She nodded, slightly embarrassed for no apparent reason.

“Yeah, just going over some things,” she responded quietly. “Anyways, I have some pasta cooking right now, does that work?”

“Perfect” he beamed. She went to the fridge, about to pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses before he stopped her. “I’ll pass on the wine today, already had enough champagne from the podium.”

“You’re just not going to let it go that you got a podium, are you?” she asked, an amused expression on her face as she went and got two cans of LaCroix. “Does this meet your high standards, podium boy?”

“I believe it does,” he smiled back, and this was a side to him, she realized, that she could get used to. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

A handful of daisies.

On the marble counter was a white vase with some daisies as she walked by. By now, his apartment was a common sight, though she didn’t want to fully commit to living together just yet. She didn’t want to tie herself down, and she relished her independence. But at the same time, she loved spending time with him, her boyfriend. He had asked the question a few months back, during a dinner reminiscent of their first date together, and she had happily agreed.

Since then, it had been a whirlwind of the honeymoon phase. Travelling, dates, smiles, everything was perfect. Now, it was Monday and the two of them flopped onto the couch, jet lag kicking after coming back from a busy weekend.

He laid his head in her lap, her fingers threading through his brown curls. She smiled, humming absentmindedly as she read the book in her hands. “Whatcha reading?” he asked, eyes still closed.

“Just a cute little romance novel,” she responded, still reading. He paused for a moment, not saying anything, making her think he had fallen asleep.

“You know, if my life was a book, you’d be the best part,” he mumbled, sparkling grayish green eyes meeting hers. She felt her heart flutter as she closed her book.

“You stole that from that Daniel Caesar song,” she scoffed, a stupid grin on her face. “I still love you though.” She freezes, having not anticipated saying that. They hadn’t said yet, but she had thought it quite a few times. She studied his face, watching for his reaction.

“I love you too,” he smiled, pulling her down so that they were laying on the couch facing each other. Reaching over to pull her closer, she felt herself relax into his touch and grinned as he pecked a kiss to her cheek. At that moment, she knew he was going to be the one.

Ripped daisy petals.

She slammed her hand down on the counter, fed up. “I keep telling you, why are you so scared of us being public?” she snapped. Glaring at him, she dared for a rebuttal.

“I want to protect us, the media is brutal,” he retorted, stance mirroring her hostile one.

She gave him a pointed look. “That doesn’t mean you have to go out with models all the time!” she shouted, jabbing a finger towards him.

“It’s to keep up my appearance,” he protested. “So they don’t catch on.” She sighed in annoyance.

“Well what if I want them to catch on?” she practically screamed, eyes glaring daggers. “Do you know how hard it is to go on social media and see my boyfriend with a model who’s infinitely prettier than me?”

“This is best for us!” he yelled, frustration laced in his tone. “Don’t you see that?”

She snorted. “Best for who?” she questioned. “Because it seems awfully suspicious that you just so happen to hang out with a lot of models instead of me.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “You think I’m cheating?”

“I don’t know anymore,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just want us to be public but there seems to be something stopping you.”

“If you can’t trust me, I don’t know how this is going to work,” he said.

“Because it won’t,” she responded flatly. “All I’m asking is for one thing that means a lot to me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep putting you first and I can’t even trust you, for God’s sake.” His jaw dropped open, eyes widening at her resolute tone.

“Wait, no,” he pleaded. “We can work this out, this sounds too much like a break up.”

“It is a break up.” With those five words, she watched as his face fell, tears welling up in her own eyes. Struggling to keep her voice even, she pointed at the door. “Just- get out of my apartment.” He hesitated, but after seeing her expression, headed to the door. Giving her a glance, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Only now was when she allowed the tears to flow down her face, sobbing as she sank down against the kitchen counter. Nine months, all wasted. She thought he cared about her; apparently not. Next to her, she saw the shattered vase and daisies strewn on the ground. She had knocked off in her anger. Now, she reached for a flower, a piece of porcelain pricking her finger. She ignored the blood starting to bead up around her finger as she stared at the daisy, heart shattering at all the memories. Anger boiling up again, she grabbed a petal, ripping it off and throwing it to the ground. She kept going until she was surrounded by ripped petals, her heart broken like the vase and bleeding like her finger as tears streamed down her face.

A bouquet of daisies.

It was another weekend of traveling as she stepped out of the elevator. It had been a week or two after her break up, and thanks to her job, she still had to work in proximity with him. Every single time she saw him, all she felt was pain. She thought she was strong enough, but it hurt. Like hell. It was Saturday now, and she only had to go through tomorrow before she wouldn’t have to be around him all the time.

She opened up the door to her hotel room, not expecting the lights to be on as she closed the door behind her. The smell of pasta filled the air, but she was only focused on glaring at the person in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice cold as she scowled at the man in a suit in front of her. “Who let you in here? I’m going to go talk to-”

“Please, hear me out,” he pleaded. When she didn’t respond, he took it as a green light. “I messed up. I was so scared that once we went public, people would start talking and then you’d realize that I don’t deserve you. Or worse, people will come at you. I guess I just wanted to shelter our relationship without a lot of external forces. But I selfishly didn’t listen to you, and I went out with all these models to appease the public.”

She watched him, keeping a neutral face but not glowering at him anymore. “I just was so scared of our relationship changing for the worse with the media factor, and I was scared of losing you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But I still ended up losing you. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have put you in a position where you felt like you couldn’t trust me. I miss you so much that it hurts. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t stand not being near you anymore. I’m sorry for acting like a selfish twat. I really hope you can forgive me, and that maybe we could restart.” He held out the bouquet of daisies he’d been fidgeting with, almost like a peace offering.

“We’re not restarting,” she scoffed as she snatched the flowers, making him flinch in shock. Her mouth then curled up into the mischievous smirk he had gotten so used to before settling into something more serious. “You did hurt me, a lot,” she started out. “But I know you had good intentions, and you’re apologizing now.” She stepped closer to him, gazing into his eyes.

“I missed you too,” she whispered before she pressed her lips to his for a kiss. Pulling apart, she watched the ways his eyes lit up as he held her face in his hands, pecking her forehead.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he murmured as she only smiled, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the daisies.

“I don’t plan on leaving.”

#papayadays #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #papaya writes #lando norris #max verstappen #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #alex albon #george russell #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #charles leclerc #formula 1 #lewis hamilton

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Booty-Call Dare

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt “Impress”

I got the idea for this after an incredibly unproductive conversation at a bar lol

Warnings: language, sexual themes (but SFW)

Words: 963

You’re just proving my point, Rowan texted her in response to a selfie Aelin sent of herself eating pie.

“What’re you smiling at?” Lysandra teased from the other side of Aelin’s living room, which caught Elide’s and Fenrys’ attention.

She immediately wiped it off her face and gave an eye roll before giving her attention back to Rowan.

It has strawberries in it, Aelin texted back, defensive of her dessert choices. It counts as fruit.

Nice try. There was a brief pause before he sent, What’re you up to?

Not much. You?

She needed to cut this conversation short before Fenrys complained that she wasn’t focused on Girls’ Night—no one could pinpoint exactly how he started attending, but he was a constant in her monthly-ish reunions with Lysandra and Elide.

In response, Rowan sent her a picture. It was a mirror one, just the curves of his biceps and shoulders in front of rows of dumbbells.

A gym pic.

Are you trying to make me feel bad for all that pie I ate? What the hell was she supposed to say?

His response came lightning fast. I thought it counted as fruit.

“Holy shit,” Elide said from behind Aelin, right before snatching her phone and zooming in the picture. “He’s so trying to impress you with these.”

“Stop it,” Aelin hissed as she took her phone back.

It wasn’t a show-off picture like the ones Fenrys posts, it was casual. Rowan must be so oblivious he had sent her a not-so-friendly reminder of his very tanned biceps.

“What?” Lys asked.

“Rowan DMed her a gym pic!”

Fenrys choked on his pie.

Aelin crossed her arms, ready for it. Her friends had a problem of constantly reading too much into Rowan’s behavior when he was just being a good friend.

Fenrys held both hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t see through a dude’s heart, but I know when he wants his dick wet.”

Sometimes, Aelin wondered if things wouldn’t be different if she hadn’t been in a relationship when they met, in college. Still, she was glad for what they had now. “Rowan wouldn’t risk our friendship for a hookup.”

Fenrys sighed, a faraway look that indicated that he was in Philosopher Mode. “Having female friends is like raising chickens. Even if you never eat them, at some point you’ll look at them while you’re hungry and wonder.”

“Very well, then.” Aelin raised one brow up. “We’re friends.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you don’t think of me romantically.”

“No, ma’am.”

“But if I invited you to my bedroom…”

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. So would Rowan.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Aelin was confused, Fenrys never gave up like this.

“Alright,” he confirmed. “Call him now. Prove me wrong.”

“What.”

Lys and Elide cackled, then started a chorus of Do it! Do it!

Never one to back away from a challenge, Aelin squared her shoulders and unlocked her phone. “If I win, you’ll be demoralized and drop this subject forever. And if I lose…?”

Lys rolled her eyes. “You’ll fuck Rowan. I think this is a win-win scenario for you, Ae.”

But would she? She didn’t have much time to think about it, given the speed in which Rowan took her call.

“Hey, Fireheart.”

Her friends would mock her endlessly is she described Rowan as anything close to cheerful, but after being best friends for so many years, Aelin learned how to pick apart his undertones of grumpiness and yes, this was a happy one.

“Buzzard, hi.” The messy background noise from the call indicated that he was still at the gym. Good. She’d win this bet more easily if he was busy when she made the proposition—an idle brain is Hella’s playground. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Depends. Why’d you ask?”

“Um…” Aelin got up and paced around her small living room, and her friends watching on the edge of their seats didn’t help at all. “This might seem out of the blue, but I was wondering if you were up for… some Netflix and chill. You and me.”

This pause that felt like a lifetime was probably Rowan rewiring his brain after his best friend threw herself at him. Then, “Sure. There’s this new horror movie I thought you’d like. Or you wanna watch Gilmore Girls again?”

He didn’t want this. Rowan didn’t want it so bad he failed to recognize her proposal for what it was. The desire to hang up on him and disappear forever was overwhelming.

“No, not Netflix and chill. Netflix. And chill.”

A pause. “I’m confused.”

“I—“ Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose. This was harder than she thought. “Do you wanna bang?”

Rowan’s deafening silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“Fuck, um—“ Aelin grimaced. “I’m sorry. This was so stupid of me—“

“NO!” he interrupted. “S’okay. I— Um— Can you meet me in an hour? My place? Yours? D’youwannagrabdinner?”

“Um…” From the way her friends were grinning, Aelin’s blush must be visible from outer space. “Your place. I already ate. See you in an hour.”

“Cool.”

Aelin mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and hung up.

“I’m not even surprised.” Fenrys had a triumphant smirk on. “He’s doing cartwheels as we speak.”

Lysandra, the traitor, was laughing. “He’s setting off fireworks!”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Did he ask for that hour to shave?”

Aelin was frozen in place.

She had just scheduled a hookup with her best friend.

“Should I call him again to cancel?”

“Do you want to?”

No, she didn’t.

She had just potentially murdered their friendship, and Rowan seemed to be okay with it.

Aelin peeked under her shirt, cursed and ran to her room.

“I’m wearing granny underwear!”

If Aelin was about to ruin their friendship, she’d do it right.

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Banana Split

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You get an ice cream.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Last one for the MK bingo! I didn't quite get to finish the board (the other fics are just not in a good state to post, maybe I'll sort them out one day ^^)

Warnings: finger sucking, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 638

It had started with a playful argument about banana splits when you were in Kaspas. 

You weren’t quite sure how the discussion had started, just that the aforementioned desert had been on the menu and Steven and Marc had gone at it. 

Their bickering was always playful, a kind of sparring match that they seemed to partake in mainly for sport, and not so much for actually arguing about a topic. 

Seventy percent of the time you were pretty sure that they only took opposite sides so that they could continue quarrelling. 

Steven had said that banana splits were invented in the UK. Marc said USA. Steven had gotten up the Wikipedia page. Marc had gloated about how he was right. Steven had countered with, ‘yeah, but it does say no one knows for sure, doesn’t it? So it could have been anywhere.’ Marc had complained Steven was a sore loser, and ‘that everyone that could have been credited with inventing it was from America. So he wins.’ Steven had added, ‘Technically, you can’t invent a food.’ Marc, his tone dripping with exasperation, ‘Oh, getting technical now, are we? Because you’re a sore loser?’ 

It had carried on from there.  

Somewhere in between laughing you hadn’t quite been paying attention to your own ice cream sundae and some of the strawberry sauce had worked its way along the spoon and onto your fingers. You’d tutted and wiped it with a napkin, and hadn’t thought much more of it. 

That was until later when you were walking through the park with Steven and your fingers kept brushing together and sticking. The sauce, even though on inspection you could see absolutely no trace of it, was there on some microscopic level. Catching and fusing your fingers together. You tried to wipe your skin clean on a spare tissue, and then your trousers to no avail. 

The sensation was driving you close to madness. The constant irritation. The unending catch and pull. You couldn’t stop them from sticking without holding your fingers apart at a weird angle that started to cramp your hand. 

You needed to find a toilet, a sink, hell, even a puddle. Anything to-

“Love? You okay?” Steven frowns sympathetically, looking down at your hand. 

You nod halfheartedly. “Fingers are sticky.” 

“From the sauce?” 

You nod again.

He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening in that sweet expression. “Poor love.” He kisses your cheek, knowing about and understanding your detest for the sensory experience. 

“Here.” He takes your hand carefully, so as to not push your fingers together. “These two?” He points to your middle and forefinger. 

You barely get a chance to nod, your mouth open to speak, but the words die in your throat as Steven sticks your fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

For a brief moment, all thoughts drain out of your head. Your mind completely blank. You try not to stare, you really do. Your breathing hitches at the slide of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the way his eyes have closed. A spark of pleasure rushes down your spine. 

You really, really shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much. 

He finishes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and smiles innocently. 

You stay staring. 

“Better?”

There is a pause before you remember how to speak. “I… erm…”

“Oh don’t worry!” He beams. “Strawberry sauce is vegan,” he waves a hand dismissively, but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.” 

You grab his arm, your skin burning with a deep heat, and begin to march him towards the park exit. If you didn’t get out of there in the next minute you were going to have to find some bushes to fuck him in.

“Love?” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? Why?” 

Oh, he’d find out why.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[pagetsgirl]

bad day (drabble)

warnings: teeth-rotting fluff , and shitty writing

summary: Emily has a bad case, but luckily for her, she has an amazing wife who really knows how to take care of her.

a/n: english is not my native language, so i apologise for any mistakes!! also; my requests are open so don’t be afraid to reach out and request something <3

word count: 598

read on ao3 or below the cut

The case was in Texas, where the police department was filled with homophobic assholes who didn’t even know what 1+1 is. Safe to say, it wasn’t a good case for Emily, or anyone really. But now she was close to reaching home, she just wanted to dive into your arms, and let you take control.

You heard the familiar opening of the front door, followed by a heavy sigh when she took off the tight combat boots she’s been wearing all day.

You quickly made your way to the hallway, where you threw yourself into her arms, smelling the familiar perfume that you grew to love so much. The brunette wrapped her arms around you, and buried her face into the crook of your neck.

Of course you knew she had a bad case, as the two of you made sure to text the other throughout the day when the agent was away on a case.

“come on baby, how about we get you into a nice warm bath?” You say softly to your wife, knowing exactly what’ll help her wind down after a long week. “Yes please,” she replied softly, letting you take care of her.

You led her into the bathroom, never letting her go. As she undressed, you turned on the bath and let it fill with perfectly temperature water and good smelling bubbles, making sure to use the one that smells like vanilla, your go to smell, for extra comfort.

“Baby, could you maybe join me?” Her voice sounded so incredibly small, it was impossible to say no, especially paired with the puppy eyes she was giving you. You quickly undressed and slid into the tub, letting her settle between your legs. She let out a small sigh when the warm water eased the ache in her limps.

You two sat there in comfortable silence, until you started to softly massage the kinks out of her shoulders, causing her to let out a long sigh. Her eyes fell closed, and her shoulders relaxed as she laid into you even more.

You guys stayed there for around 20 more minutes, until the water started to turn incredibly cold. “Darling, we got to get out now,” you tell her. Emily softly shook her head. “I’m comfy…” she let out a soft yawn. “No babe, you’re going to freeze to death.” You softly pushed her forward, so you could get out of the tub, and grabbed a couple fluffy towels.

After both of you are wrapped into a towel, you grabbed two pairs of pj’s, making sure they’re both yours, so your wife wouldn’t complain about it. As you’ve made the mistake before, which resulted in you having to sleep on the couch (even though she’d join you about five minutes in).

Not even 5 minutes later and the both of you were wrapped in each other, limps being a tangled mess. “Baby…” She softly murmured. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for taking care of me,”

“I always will, pretty girl, I love you so much.”

She let out a soft giggle, just proving how exhausted she was. “I love you too, so incredibly much,”

“Good, now go to sleep, yeah? I’ll be there when you wake up, I promise.”

“Mmm, goodnight,” her eyes were already closed, and her breathing quickly evened out.

“Sweet dreams, my darling, I’ll always be there for you and I love you so much, I promise you,”

And just as you said that, Sergio sneaked into your bed and laid against your leg.

"I love you too Sergio," You said with a smile.

#ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 #criminal minds #ao3 fanfic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #fluff #wlw

[celticcrossanon]

Excerpts of a podcast discussion about H&M

Celta, there’s a podcast called Juicy Scoop, hosted by Heather McDonald, where she has Spencer Pratt on an episode (SP is an American reality television personality and hears gossip in Hollywood) and they discuss H&M. There’s not really any new tea but I thought I would pass it along to you anyway what was said. :)Below are excerpts transcribed by “RBXChas” at https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/1ch2ayp/summary_of_august_2023_juicy_scoop_podcast_re_hm/

Spencer says he has some “real deal” information from a friend who tried to go to TMZ, but if you don’t have a photo, they don’t care, even if it’s a really good story. His source said that H&M do not live together (H lives in LA), and H cannot believe that they need two nannies because he and Prince William only had one. Heather reads that as he is bitching about M as a mom and why does she need two nannies (e.g., complaining about her spending), which Spencer confirms.

Spencer says he has another source at Netflix who says that “the numbers that we heard had a lot of extra zeros for their Netflix deal, so there wasn’t that much money coming in”. He thinks they went too big with their house and wants to see her get back into acting because he liked her on Suits.

Heather asks him if he thinks M will have to go on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. He thinks H&M are not going to make it (Heather agrees) even though he wanted it to work out, but he believes his source (presumably about their living apart). He thinks H will go back to England and “get back in the family” and do the RF thing, only coming to the US to visit, because he thinks he could do so much more if he teamed up with Prince William.

Heather says that she has her own source of really good intel, definitely not the same source as Spencer’s. She says that it is true that “they are grifters” and that “they are constantly social climbing and trying to get free shit”. She knows someone who “they did that exact same thing to, met them, asked if they could stay at their very fancy third home” and then “asked ‘can we use your jet’ all that kind of stuff”, that “it’s her, that she’ll like zoom right in, but he’s down for the free shit, too, he’s used to getting free stuff, and he’s used to people wanting to host them”. She says the people who’ve gotten to meet them and are trapped into socializing with them realize H&M have the “stink on them”, so even if they socialize with them, “they don’t even want to take a photo with them” because they “don’t want the world to know that we’re buddies or that you stayed at my house, and by the way you’re never staying again.”

Heather talks about the phone hacking case. She thinks it’s about money and staying in the press. She thinks H should let it go, especially if he is going to divorce M, and just say he is “moving on from this chapter” of his life.

Spencer says that H just needs “a reboot”, that he’s not too old to do it, that “this is like red alert, like you’ve got to turn this around”. Heather and Spencer agree that the only way H can save himself is a divorce, which they both think is sad.

Enjoy the tea!

*

Hi TeaWithBooks,

Thank you for sending that in.

Here is the link if anyone wants to read the entire interview transcription (it is a lot more than the above)

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/1ch2ayp/summary_of_august_2023_juicy_scoop_podcast_re_hm/

I agree with the conclusion that was drawn (8 months ago?) If Harry is to make anything of his life and redeem himself, he needs to get rid of his wife. Unfortunately, I don’t think Harry sees it that way.

#submission

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Cole Turner x Female Reader, Curtis Everett x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: You always try to be your best at your job.

Word Count: 919

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark, Dubious Consent (Sex Toys, mild Overstimulation), Manhandling, Clueless Reader, Cages, Pet Names (pup, lamb, etc.). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Time to meet the contractor/handyman and his business partner, the toy maker. It’s a side story for A.W.A. that I just wanted to peek into. Don’t know if there’ll be any more parts to this. But Enjoy!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

This is unBeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Things you now knew were stupid: answering a sketchy ad on the side of the road for a job in product testing. Apparently not your brightest idea. As Jeanne would say, you’re a dumb bitch. At least you were cute. 

It hadn’t seemed that bad. Cole and Curtis were pleasant, though they made you well aware of your deficient resume. You didn’t have marketable skills. It was something people said a lot. 

But that didn’t stop them from hiring you. They wanted you to start right away. And the benefits? They said they’d be comprehensive. 

What they didn’t mention was what exactly that meant. You were just happy they’d chosen you. With job after job firing you for ‘incompetence’, they’d seen your potential. Had said so, in exactly those words. You’d been on cloud nine, smiling wide. 

Before they opened the door to your office and had you test the first product. 

“Just turn your head toward the camera,” Cole coaxes, his sweet words dripping over you like honey. 

Your feverish body slumps over. The machine between your legs continuing its torturous thrusts and vibrations. 

A warm hand falls to your lower back, the other tilting your head up to meet stormy blue eyes. 

“She’s had enough,” Curtis says. With a flick of a switch, the machine beneath you turns off. 

“Come on, man,” Cole whines, “just a little longer. She’s so fucking adorable when she breaks like this.”

“We don’t want to break her.” 

Bundled into strong arms, you’re pulled off the toy and laid out on a nearby cushion. Your limbs melt into the plush fabric, twitching from overstimulation. Not an ounce of strength to move of your own volition. That’s all been fucked out of you. 

“It’s half the fun,” Cole mutters under his breath, starting a routine of cleaning off the toy. Though he complains, he won’t go against his partner outright. They work too well together for that. 

A quiet moment passes, Cole cleaning up and Curtis rummaging through some drawers. He produces a blanket a few moments later and carefully wraps you in it. You hum and lean close to his gentle touch. 

“By the way, Ari’s got me making a tail for his girl,” Cole says, joining Curtis in putting you away. He tilts your chin up with a finger. “How do you feel about that?”

You blink slowly and let incomprehensible mumbles fall past your lips. Mostly in the affirmative, not quite understanding how they’ll make you a tail. Isn’t that something animals are born with? Or sometimes like your cousin Courtney? Your brow furrows as you try to think.

You shiver and grip at the quilt over your shoulders, tucking it closer to your face.  For one night you wish they’d let you sleep here. Not that you’d complain about your normal accommodations. They could always fire you, and then where would you be?

“Don’t go falling asleep on us now or you’ll forget your form,” Cole reminds. He tucks a pen and paper into your unsteady grip and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

You blink to clear your eyes and look at the short form. Five questions and a comment box. 

“Do you need help?” Curtis asks, a hand on the cushion by your head, close enough to touch. 

Despite the urge to stretch into his touch and accept his generosity, you shake your head. It’s your job, you’ll do it yourself. Dragging your body from the cushion, you sit up and place the paper on your leg. Scrawl the product description on the top line. All five questions stare up at you, a scale of 1 to 5 beneath. 

Is the product enticing to potential customers? 

Is the product innovative?

Does the product seem high quality?

Is the product different from other products?

Does the product fulfill our customer’s needs and wants?

Though sluggish, your brain processes each question and makes a thoughtful rating for Cole’s new machine. The comment box proves more difficult. Words harder to scrawl while your hand lacks its usual strength and dexterity. But you jot down a few notes—about the vibration and the fit, you think? 

A yawn cracks your jaw and you stand on wobbly legs. Holding onto different bits of furniture about the room, you hobble to place the paper in its usual basket. They’ll look at it at the end of the month and determine what to do with it. 

Legs like jelly, you steady yourself a moment too long. Your bosses preparing your next task. You glance over and sigh. Still trying to perfect that thing. They’ve been working on it since you started working for them. 

“Come on, pup,” Curtis beckons, voice gruff, holding the door open. “Time for some shuteye.” 

You nod and bend your knees, ducking into the small metal cage. They finally got the cushion on the bottom thick enough that you don’t feel the bars digging into your side as you lay down. And they added some personal touches—a few pillows, your favorite blankets, a stuffed animal—to ensure the space still allows comfort to fit a full-grown human. 

Another yawn breaks free of your lips. Your head falls to the pillow and you let your eyes flutter shut. 

Fingers caress your cheek through the bars. You peek open your eyes to see Cole, a soft look of satisfaction on his face. 

“Time for a little nap, little lamb,” he whispers, “then there’s a few more things we need to test.”

#curtis everett x reader #cole turner x reader #dark #dark fic #dub con #tw dub con #attic wives anonymous #18+ #minors dni

[nerdragenewvegas]

New Fic: A Well Timed Scandal

A Well Timed Scandal - Cooper Howard/Female Reader. Pre war (will go into the post-war timeline.) No current content warnings but I'll be tagging as I go. Will be multi chapter. Johnny places his cigarette in the carved out groove of the ash tray, leaning in and resting his elbows on the desk, like he’s leveling with you. “You wanna know why we cast Gilda in Empire on the Nile?” He asks. “Because there was one too many rumors about Keith McKinney being a fan of ‘Greek stuff’ for us to contend with. Now, originally, we just wanted them seeing each other,” he admits, “but I’m not gonna complain with the results.”

“So you want me to marry Cooper Howard?”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Marry? No, no, lets play that by ear,” he seemingly assures you. “What we want — need — you two to do is make it look like you’ve been having an affair.” You must look like you’ve seen a ghost. This is insane. “Explains his divorce, gets people talking about you two as a pair, gets eyes on this movie you’re filming together — now, don’t go outright saying it, of course. We just wanna’ make people read between the lines, get them curious enough to get them into the theater to see the chemistry on the screen.” 

#fallout tv series #fic #cantiquefics #cooper howard #cooper x reader #the ghoul

[halfhissandwich]

@analoginceweek Day Two: Nightmare

Story below!

Knock knock.

Roman perks up from his desk in surprise. Why is someone at his door at this hour? Nobody else is supposed to be awake, who would be awake right now? Stealing a glance at his clock which reads 2:53 AM—he had decided to pull an all-nighter to finish writing—Roman groans, running a hand through his slightly ruffled hair as he prepares himself to scold his brother Remus for bothering him while he’s working.

However, instead of seeing his twin, Roman is pleasantly surprised to open his door to see Logan and Virgil. Both of his boyfriends paying him a visit?! And in their pretty pajamas?! And no Remus in sight?! Huh! Not that Roman believed in good karma, but maybe working so hard had earned him some! “Hello, you two! Come in!” Roman couldn’t keep the gleeful smile off his face if he tried as Logan and Virgil enter his room, but it quickly fades when said smile is not returned. “Why the sad atmosphere, my loves?”

Logan and Virgil exchange a look before Logan speaks. “Good eveni- night- morning…? Um… Hello Roman, we wanted to chat a bit. Discuss an important matter.” He starts. Roman frowns, a bit of black eyeshadow appearing on his face before he can stop it. Virgil’s eyes widen and he smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Royal Pain. Neither of us are mad at you, we just… it might have been Remus’ fault, but…” Virgil trails off.

“Remus? What did that brother of mine do now? You’re standing outside my door, tired, at 3 in the morning, complaining about Re… mus…” Roman trails off as he realizes the situation. “A nightmare. That’s what happened, isn’t it?” Silence and the avoidance of eye contact confirm Roman’s fears.

“You’re… well, you’re Creativity too, so can you give dreams too?” Virgil asks.

Roman stares dumbly at them before processing the question. “I don’t see why not.” And he didn’t. He gives Thomas good dreams all the time and he’s good at it, why not offer the same blessing to Logan and Virgil? “Would you like me to do so?” Logan quickly nods in response to Roman’s question while Virgil looks away and covers his face, embarrassed. With a quiet laugh at the emo’s flustered reaction, Roman sits on his bed, beckoning the two to join him. Logan doesn’t hesitate to cuddle up to Roman much like he had done many times at a young age, but Virgil is clearly, well, anxious about it. “Are you sure this is ok…?” He asks, voice shaking slightly. “You don’t have to cuddle, but you’re gonna be falling asleep so you might want to lie down.” Roman explains gently. That seems to calm Virge down, as he sits on the bed and slowly cuddles up to his partners.

Roman nearly crumbles with joy before he reminds himself to stay focused.

Sparkles slowly begin to appear around the group as creative magic starts to do its thing. It’s slightly difficult to manage the dreams of two sides at once—Logan and Virgil are very different after all. Roman places one hand on each of his boyfriends’ heads as the two of them slowly doze off into a blissful sleep. Roman coos once Logan and Virgil are peacefully asleep, both wearing small yet beautiful smiles on their faces. The work the prince had been working on calls out to him, but Roman pays it no mind as he lays down to get comfortable on his bed, reaping the rewards of his dreamy craftsmanship.

He can finish his work tomorrow.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogince #analogical #logince #prinxiety #analoginceweek2024 #I’ll be honest I did this yesterday