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donatellawritings · 2 months

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What about instead of rage giving the reader the silent treatment let’s switch the roles and instead the reader gives rage the silent treatmentt plsss

you were being a chatty little princess. you couldn’t help how excited and giddy you were today — the sun was shining bright, the sky a pretty baby blue, the air smelled fresh and sweet, everything just seemed to have been going picture perfect for you. so, when rafe brought you along with him to the country club to catch up with kelce and topper, you were all smiles, to the point where your cherub cheeks and glossy lips ached from being so stretched. you sat prettily on rafe’s lap, even more bubbly than usual thanks to the pomegranate martini you’d been sipping on.

rafe’s hand mindlessly tapped against the side of your thigh as he spoke to topper about this new boat that he’d been eyeing, causing your doe eyes to widen as your lips parted, “oh my god, topper it’s so pretty and i told rafe that he should-” you cut in, oblivious to this being your fourth time interrupting rafe while he spoke to the guys. it wasn’t until rafe had finally corrected you that you realized your silly mistake.

“hey, y’gonna let me finish talkin’ to top, or are y’gonna keep on interrupting me?” rafe scolded, his voice cold and stern as he lightly grabbed your jaw, his bright blue eyes hanging low as he sent you a chilling warning look. a soft exhale left your nose as your eyes glazed over with threatening tears, with an obedient nod. now returning his attention to topper, rafe cleared his throat before continuing, “so, yeah m’probably gonna have it by next week — just waiting on my guy to have it all dolled up for me,” rafe sighed, ignoring the slight pang in his chest as you fiddled with your fingers and kept your gaze trained on your feet.

he could tell that you were trying your very best, not to cry.

you remained silent for the remainder of the day, only allowing yourself to extend a forced courteous smile to topper and kelce, once rafe decided it was time to go home. he didn’t miss the way you simply nodded or shook your head whenever the server asked you a question, or how you quickly wiped your eyes before a stream of tears could flow door your cheeks. could rafe do without your constant interjections? yes, but he had to admit that the conversation just wasn’t as engaging without your light and airy commentary.

so, rafe decided that he’d play all of your favorite songs, once you were comfortably seated in your passenger seat with your seatbelt fastened, his pink lips running dry as you remained blank of any emotion. reaching over the center console, rafe laying his hand right above your knee, squeezing the plush skin of your thigh, to get you to look at him, “hey, mama — y’doing okay?” he questions, quickly glancing over to you as you wordlessly nodded, your dolly eyes fluttering closed as rafe sighed in defeat, before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel. he had to admit that watching you leaning your head against the window to fall asleep, instead of his shoulder, stung him a little.

what gnawed at rafe the most, was that you weren’t being quiet as a punishment, you genuinely believed that rafe wanted you to stop talking, to the point where even he couldn’t get you to say a word to him. it’d been about four hours and he missed hearing you, he missed the way his name fell off of your tongue, the way your accent peaked with certain words, how you’d console him in spanish, but mostly, he missed hearing you call him ‘papi’.

it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, thanks to the two cocktails you’d drank earlier, leaving rafe overtly excited to take the chance to get you in his arms, the moment he parked his car, rushing to the passenger side as he scooped you into his arms, his forearm resting underneath the soft curve of your ass, while his free hand gently slid over your waist. a low whine left your swollen lips as you kept your head leaned against rafe’s shoulder, sighing sleepily as you allowed your boyfriend to carry you inside of tannyhill.

pressing a kiss to your cheek, rafe was quick to take a seat on the couch with you on his lap, he needed this silence to end, before he flipped the fuck out, “i don’t like that y’not talking to me, mama — m’about to lose my mind, not hearing my pretty girl,” rafe coos sweetly into your ear, pressing another kiss to your cheek as you sigh, leaning your head closer into his shoulder. “y’not in trouble, baby, i just wanted to finish talking to topper and i know you’re excited about the boat,” rafe squeezed your waist, beckoning for you to look at him — he needed to make sure that you knew that he still saw you as his sweet girl.

compliantly, you lifted your head, your sleepy doe eyes bright as met rafe’s unwavering gaze, a small huff leaving you as you parted your now barely-glossed lips, “i just didn’t want to annoy you, papi —” you began, rafe’s eyes softening as your sweet voice ran like warm honey in his ears. you innocently shifted yourself on his lap, your swollen lips just aching to be kissed by rafe’s, “i know i was just being too excited,” you sighed, ending your small ramble as rafe simply stared at you blankly, licking over his lips as he shamelessly ogled yours.

the second you cocked your head to the side in confusion, rafe’s mouth was on yours, enveloping you in a disgustingly sloppy, but needy kiss. a throaty moan left rafe’s throat as his hand slid up to the back of your neck, securely holding your face against his as he messily licked into your mouth, spit smearing across your chin as you struggled to catch your breath, “papi, wait — i can’t breathe,” you giggled, your words instantly swallowed by rafe’s mouth as his tongue mushed slush against yours, the two of you whimpering with greed as rafe leaned forward, with you still clinging onto his lap, his shiny, spit-covered lips trailing down to your prettily pushed-up breasts.

“missed hearing y’fuckin’ voice, mama,” rafe mumbled, his voice broken and hoarse as you smiled cheesily, beaming with the fact that rafe missed you.

#anon #asks #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx imagine #obx #sweetheart!reader

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scudslut · 2 months

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Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

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writingwithfolklore · 3 months

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Describing Foods - A Masterlist

As a broke university student, I love reading about food. It’s almost like eating a real meal myself <3.

I get a little angry when characters are eating a meal and I barely get to experience it with them. In that, I mean I don’t just want to know what it is, but what it’s like to eat that food—how it tastes, smells, sounds, and feels. Is a perfect croissant still a perfect croissant without the crack of the exterior, the airiness of the pastry inside, the smell of yeast?

Probably not. When writing about a dish, the smell, texture, technique, taste, and how it looks are all important to painting the experience, so here’s some words to use when describing a meal:

Taste:

Acidic: Sharp tasting. Often used to describe tart or sour foods as well.

Aftertaste: A different taste that remains in the mouth after eating something

Bitter: Tart, sharp, and sometimes harsh flavour.

Bittersweet: Less harsh than bitterness. Tartness + sweetness.

Bland: Has no significant flavor or texture

Briny: Just means salty. Often describes pickled foods.

Citrusy: Bright flavour like… well citrus fruits—oranges, lemons, limes, etc.

Cooling: Mimics that cooling feel—like mint.

Earthy: Reminiscent of soil. Can be used to describe wines, root vegetables, and mushrooms.

Fiery: Another word for spicy.

Fresh: Light and crisp—describes produce or herbs.

Fruity: Sweet and reminiscent of fruit.

Full-bodied: Rich and ‘feels heavy’ in your mouth. Can describe wines or soups.

Herbal: Bright, fresh, sometimes earthy from the presence of herbs

Honeyed: Sweet or candied taste like honey.

Nutty: Taste similar to the flavors of nuts. Often used to describe certain cheeses.

Rich: Full, heavy flavour. Often dishes that contain cream taste rich.

Robust: Rich + Earthy. Used for lots of wines or aged liquor.

Savory: Describes meaty, earthy dishes and soups.

Sharp: Harsh, bitter, or tart taste. Used to describe acidic foods.

Smoky: Reminiscent of the smell of smoke.

Sour: Biting, tangy, tart flavor.

Spicy: Burning taste.

Sweet: Sugary.

Tangy: Tart, biting taste—feels tingly

Tart: Sharp, bitter, or sour flavour. Used to describe acidic foods.

Woody: Earthy, sometimes nutty taste. Describes some coffees or cheeses.

Yeasty: Earthy taste reminiscent of yeast. Describes beer and bread.

Zesty: Fresh, vivid, or invigorating flavour.

Sound/Texture:

Sound has a lot to do with texture, so I've combined them for this section!

Airy: Light, pillowy texture (think inside of croissant)

Brittle: Hard but easy to break

Bubbly: Usually during heating, when bubbles rise to the surface—low sound.

Buttery: Smooth, creamy texture (think certain pasta sauces)

Chewy: Food that needs to be chewed thoroughly. Can be light and bouncy (chewy bread) or heavy (steak) and sticky (candy)

Creamy: A smooth and rich texture, comes from dairy.

Crispy: Light texture with slight crunch.

Crumbly: Food with loose structure that falls apart into crumbs.

Crunchy: Firm, crisp texture with a sharp, loud noise.

Crusty (behave): Food with a hard outer layer and soft interior (many loaves and breads)

Delicate: Light and fine, feels like it can come apart easily.

Doughy: Soft and heavy, usually pale colouring.

Fizzy: Usually liquids—a hissing sound, feels like ‘static’

Flaky: Light, characterized by layers that come apart during eating.

Fluffy: light and airy.

Frothy/Foamy: Airy bubbles, usually in a drink like a latte.

Gamey: Usually refers to meats when they’re very “meaty”

Gooey: Viscous, sometimes sticky texture from moisture in a dense/solid food.

Hearty: Firm, robust texture.

Juicy: Tender and succulent texture from liquid in a solid food (steak)

Molten: Hot, gooey

Oily: Slick, heavy, lingers on the tongue.

Silky: Fine, smooth texture that feels sleek.

Smooth: Texture free of grit, lumps, or edges.

Snap: A quick, sharp, crackling sound when broken.

Squelch: A soft sucking sound when pressure is applied. Somewhat gross.

Sticky: Gluiness in the mouth.

Succulent: Tender and juicy

Tender: Soft and easy to break down

Velvety: Smooth and rich

Smell:

Acrid: Strong, bitter, unpleasant

Comforting: pleasant, probably calls back to a nice memory

Damp: Wet smelling—probably a bit earthy

Delicate: subtle, faint, not overpowering

Earthy: reminiscent of soil

Fetid: Caused by decay—unpleasant

Fishy: reminiscent of fish

Floral/flowery: Reminiscent of flowers

Fragrant: Sweet or pleasing

Fresh: Cool, crisp, refreshing—produce, probably not cooked

Funky: Something’s gone off

Heady: Strong smell, pungent, rich

Musty: Not fresh

Perfumed: Pleasant, reminiscent of something (can be perfumed with citrus, say)

Piquant: stinging, pungent—tickles the nose

Powerful: strong

Rancid: Definitely gone off, decomposing

Ripe: Strong, usually unpleasant smell

Savory: spicy, salty, no elements of sweetness

Sour: has gone off

Spicy: Sharp, tingles the nose

Tangy: Strong and bitter but in a good way

Tart: Sharp

Woody: earthy smell, reminiscent of wood

Sight:

Usually texture gives us a really good picture of what a food looks like, so here’s some non-texture sight additions:

Blistered: Bumpy exterior.

Caramelized: Usually golden brown

Cloudy: Splotched. Almost see through if not for a slight white or grey mist.

Colourful: Bright and vibrant

Glassy: Resembling glass

Glossy: Smooth, shiny

Marbled: Two colours intertwined

Opaque: Not transparent. Can’t see through.

Ripe: Colourful (can be to a fault). Nearing the end of its edible state.

Scaly: Covered in scales, fish.

Shiny: Appears wet or glossy

Sparkling: Glimmers under the light

Stuffed: An ingredient placed inside a larger part with no additional space.

Translucent: Allows light through

Vibrant: Striking, bright

Food Prep:

How the food is prepared gives it these other attributes. If your character is familiar with cooking (or is the cook themselves!) they may describe food this way.

Baked: Cooked in an oven. Results in browned or crispy outer layer.

Blackened: When food is dipped in butter and coated with spices then cooked in a hot pan—spices darken, making it appear ‘blackened’

Blanched: Food scalded in boiling water and moved to cold water so it stops cooking. Texture comes out soft.

Braised: Food that is briefly fried in fat and then stewed in a pot. Results in seared, crispy exterior with a tender interior.

Breaded: Coated with breadcrumbs/batter then baked or fried so it turns crispy

Broiled: Food cooked with intense radiant heat in an oven or on the grill. Results in a darkened appearance and crispy texture.

Caramelized: Food slow-cooked until it’s browned, nutty, and has a bit of sweetness.

Charred: Grilled, roasted, or broiled and gains a blackened exterior and smoky flavor.

Fermented: Food that’s sat with bacteria, yeast, or another microorganism and has produced acids, alcohols, or gases. Results in a biting, pungent flavor. (Kimchi is fermented)

Fried: Food cooked by submerging in hot oil. Creates crispy, crunchy texture and golden colour.

Glazed: Food with a coating brushed onto its surface. Appears glossy with a thin, flavorful, and crisp outer layer.

Infused: Food steeped in liquid with another ingredient so it carries the essence of that ingredient. Used with herbs usually.

Marinated: Usually meat soaked in liquid containing flavourful herbs, spices, vinegar, or oil.

Poached: Food cooked in near boiling water. Results in tender, moist texture.

Roasted: Food cooked with dry heat in an oven or over the fire. Results in browned exterior and crisp coating.

Sautéed: Food cooked quickly in small amount of fat.

Seared: Food cooked in small amount of fat until caramelized. Finished by roasting or grilling. Results in crisp exterior and tender interior.

Smoked: Food exposed to smoke from smoldering wood for a long time. Results in that distinctive smoky flavor.

Whipped: Food beaten to incorporate air. Light and fluffy.

What did I miss?

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #writing about food #food descriptions #descriptive writing #masterlist #Describing foods - a masterlist

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dearly-somber · 2 months

Text

hyunga’s sleeping | l.mh

-> pairing. idol!minho x non-idol!reader (f)

-> genre. Established relationship, domestic fluff.

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1101

-> warnings. None!

-> a/n. This was fueled by pure, unadulterated Minho & Soon-Doong-Dori (SDD) brainrot.

-> skz drabble, oneshot & series m.list

-> started. Feb. 23rd, 2024 @ 16:51

-> fin. Fri., Mar. 1st, 2024 @ 19:40

-> edited. Sat. Mar. 2nd, 2024 @ 15:40

-> divider credit. @plum98

“Eomoni!”

“Y/N, darling, come in!”

Minho’s mom wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you inside with a big smile on her face. She waves you off as you slip out of your shoes and into a pair of bright pink Hello Kitty slippers Minho bought for you as a joke years ago, forcefully prying the bag of goodies you bought on your way here from your fingers.

“I hope I’m not intruding—?”

“Hush!” Mrs. Lee chides with a smile, “Stop worrying so much.” Her hand hovers by the small of your back, guiding you up the last step into the living room.

“Is Minho here? He said he was coming home today…”

“Yes, he’s here. He’s in his room.” Minho’s mom sets the plastic bag on the counter, and you naturally go to help her unpack what you bought, shelving things like you live here.

“I—hello, abeonim.” You bow at Mr. Lee, closing your eyes contentedly when he comes around the counter to give you a fatherly side-hug that squishes you against him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, ruffling your hair as he lets you go in favor of helping his wife unpack.

You shrug, walking around to the other side of the counter. “Thought I’d pop in to say hi. I missed the kittens very much.”

Mr. Lee laughs, shaking his head at you. “Of course, the kittens.” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

You can’t help the grin tugging at your mouth, clearing your throat to speak. “Speaking of, where are the babies? I haven’t seen any of them since I got here.”

“Last time I checked they were all with Minho in his room,” his mom says, putting away the bottle of red wine you bought for dinner later tonight.

“Great! I can kill two birds with one stone.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

She snickers at you, shooing you away with a fond smile. “Go say hi and then come sit with us—we found a documentary we thought you’d like.”

“Okay, eomoni.” You smile at her and hope your pure love and adoration for her isn’t written too clearly on your face, afraid she might tease you. You walk with light steps in the direction of Minho’s room, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“Minho-ssi,” you sing-song, rounding the corner with a light and airy step-a-step you’re pretty sure you saw somewhere in Thunderous’s choreography.

Mreow?

“Doong-Doong-ah?” Your lips jut out in a surprised pout, looking down at the talkative orange tabby with a tiny furrow in your brow. Following the lump of white sheets behind him, you finally make out Minho’s all-black clad body hidden under all the fluff.

You smile.

“Is hyunga sleeping?” you whisper, walking over on the tips of your toes before crouching in front of Doongie, scratching behind his ears with a soft smile. He mrews, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans his head into your hand. To your right, Dori hugs what you think is a bottle of lotion between his white socked-paws, his tail flicking with each nibble he delivers to the hard plastic.

You let your hand wander over Dori’s side and chide him with a half-hearted hiss when he clamps his teeth around your knuckles, shaking it off with a smile when he pauses a second before giving your hand a couple of licks.

You give his side one last pat before walking around Minho’s feet, only noticing Soonie as he’s cuddling into your boyfriend’s duveted stomach.

You can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips, crouching next to the sleeping cats to card your fingers through Soonie’s fur, feeling a familiar sense of pride swell in your chest at his appreciative purr.

And then you’re looking up at Lee Minho, your body tingling all over at the serenity on your sleeping beauty’s face, unable to help but reach out and let your hand run over his hair; a little frizzy at the ends but otherwise straight; he must not have been sleeping for very long.

You drag your hand over Minho’s head with an inexplicable softness constricting your throat, wishing you could lean down and kiss him without running the risk of waking him up.

You jump a little when Minho lets out an adorable grunt as he slowly pries his eyes open.

“Jagi?” he mumbles.

“Did I wake you?” you coo, combing your fingers through his fringe.

“Mmm.”

You chuckle, letting the pads of your fingers brush over his forehead, over his eyelids. “Ever the truthman.”

“Truthman?” he grumbles, bringing a hand up to loosely hold your wrist between his fingers.

“When did you get home?” You let your hand wander over his cheek.

“A few hours ago…”

“From practice?”

He guides the palm of your hand against his lips. “Mmm...”

He kisses your hand, turning onto his back (much to Soonie’s dismay) and throwing the duvet around his hips before tugging on your arm with surprising strength.

You yelp, practically falling on top of him. He lets out a back-of-the-throat kind of giggle that sends tingles down your arms, using his hands on your hips to shift you higher up his abdomen.

Minho lets out a satisfied hum-sigh against the top of your head, his fingers massaging the skin at your waist before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your trousers, letting the elastic keep his hands in place.

“Baby,” you say, softly—knowing his parents are waiting for you downstairs but feeling so tempted to sink into his warmth and stay there until the end of days.

“No,” he huffs, nuzzling your temple. “Lay with me for a bit.”

You can’t help but laugh, subtly shaking your head. Of course he knows. “Okay, but only for a minute. Your mom invited me downstairs to watch a—“

“Shh, jagi, I’m trying to sleep.”

———

“Y/N, sweetheart, we’re—“

Mrs. Lee stops in her tracks, right outside Minho’s room. The sight she comes across brings an immediate smile to her face, and she can’t help but take her phone out and snap a picture to give to her son later:

Minho, his arms wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, legs intertwined. And surrounding you, Soonie, Doongie and Dori; the youngest of the trio laying by his hyung’s head. Doongie lays by your feet, and Soonie sleeps just off to the side, his legs stretched out in front of him.

As she sits back down with her husband, Mrs. Lee can’t help but think: she can’t wait for the day Minho asks for her mother’s ring.

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mphountitled · 5 months

Note

omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

#anton lee x reader #riize x reader #riize smut #anton x reader #anton smut #anton riize #lee anton #lee anton x reader #lee anton smut #anton lee smut #riize fluff #riize hard hours #riize #riize x imagine #riize imagines #anton fluff #anton #riize headcanons

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justauthoring · 1 year

Text

TOKYO REVENGERS - SPENDING THE NIGHT OVER FOR THE FIRST TIME

includes: chifuyu matsuno, ken “draken” ryuguji, hakkai shiba, hanma shuji, manjiro “mikey” sano all x fem!reader

CHIFUYU wants to ask you to stay, but doesn’t know how.

The words are at the tip of his tongue, and he hesitates, eyes watching as your figure rushes to gather your things. But... he doesn’t want you to leave. That he knows, and the desperation settles in as it grows closer and closer to it being time for you to leave.

“You... You could stay.”

He’s barely registered he’s said it before he has.

And you pause at his barely uttered words, body freezing as your head turns over your shoulder so your eyes can meet his. You’ve gathered your jacket and bag, the former having only been slipped on over one shoulder.

“Sorry?”

Your voice is light, airy. A warmth to it that still, to this day makes Chifuyu’s heart flutter and his stomach to flood with butterflies because how was it possible you could sound so... inviting? So warm? He feels his insides melt when you talk to him and he just wants to fiddle away into a puddle because he loves hearing your voice so much.

“Stay,” he repeats, forcing down his own nerves and letting the word echo in the silence for a moment before adding; “I’d like you to stay.”

Your bag slips to the floor and you turn, facing Chifuyu properly. “You want me to spend the night?”

He nods, eager.

“Really?”

And there’s bright grin on your face now, slipping off your jacket as you make your way over to him. Chifuyu’s blushing while he nods, still unable to form proper words, face turned beat red at your light teasing, but doesn’t resist when you fall next to him on his bed, giggling.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you admit. “I really didn’t wanna leave.”

Setting a hand on your back, Chifuyu hums; “didn’t want you to leave.”

You giggle, “I’m that great at cuddling, huh?”

And he says so without hesitance, a trace of doubt as he nods down at you; “the best.”

DRAKEN says the words plainly;

“You should just spend the night.”

And the words are so blunt, so matter of fact, that you almost give yourself whiplash as you spin to face him. Wide eyes falling on him as your lips part to say something, but hesitate because you’re not even sure what to say.

Maybe a part of you had hoped he asked, gone super slow while gathering your things, but you hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

“You want me to?” You ask softly, struggling to find your voice.

Draken nods, “of course. It’s about time.”

You were hoping for a little more but still -- was better then nothing.

“The girls won’t mind?”

He shrugs, “they already love you. It just sucks that we’ll mostly have to hang out in here.” He gestures around himself at his bedroom, a slight pout on his lips as he does.

You grin at that, “that’s what we do most of the time when I visit, Kenny.”

“Yeah, I know. Just sucks.”

Leaning forward, you grab Draken’s hand, squeezing it tightly in your own. “You know I don’t care as long as I get to be with you, Ken,” and then, you pause. Unsure. “You’re positive you want me staying? I don’t want to intrude on your--”

“Stupid,” he huffs lightly, the insult teasing as he smirks, “you’re not intruding if it’s you. Plus, I’m the one who asked you to stay.”

“I know,” you nod, “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Come ‘ere,” he urges, ushering you towards him with a wave of his hand. You listen easily, letting yourself fall into his grip as his hand falls to your back, guiding you on top of his chest as he leans back on his bed. The two of you settle in comfortably then, with Draken’s hand resting on your back. “Been wanting to ask ya for a while.”

“Oh,” you mumble, unable to fight the smile on your lips; “yeah?”

“Yeah. Last time you came over, I wanted to. Got too scared though.”

You think back to how heavily Draken had pouted last time you’d come over and eventually, had to leave. It was unlike Draken to act like that, and you remember it both being endearing but entirely too hilarious to not tease him.

Maybe if you hadn’t teased him, he would’ve asked.

“Sorry,” you offer, letting your hand fall on his chest, next to your head.

“Not your fault,” he dismisses easily, “been wanting to ask for a while. Been to chicken-shit. Glad I got the courage this time though. I... I like having you in my arms.”

“I like being in your arms, Kenny.”

HAKKAI is positive he sounds like a bumbling fool.

“Would... Would you...--I mean, you don’t have to but I would like you--don’t feel pressure though--”

Laughing, you shake your head. Making your way over to Hakkai, you set your hands on his arms, looking up at him as he finally stops his rambling to stare down at you. “Calm down,” you soothe gently, “what is it?”

Red in face and feeling entirely like an idiot, Hakkai huffs.

“I wanted to know if you’d... like to spend the night.”

And his voice is so small, so unsure that it almost breaks your heart how nervous he is to ask you something. Let alone something like that.

Something you’d never reject.

So, smiling brightly, you grin, eyes twinkling; “I’d love to.”

He blinks at that, as if having already expected a rejection. The embarrassment wipes from his face as his lips part, staring back at you; “really?”

“Of course,” you laugh, “why wouldn’t I?”

Pausing, Hakkai hesitates at that -- because really, why wouldn’t you? It wasn’t like this was the first time you’ve come over to his house and you guys have been dating long enough for something like this to be more normal...

“I dunno,” he admits finally, “just didn’t want you to think you had to.”

“Well, I don’t,” you shrug, letting your hands fall by your side as you grin up at him. “And I’d love to spend the night. Didn’t wanna go home anyways.”

“Oh?” Hakkai frowns, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

You can’t help but feel giddy at his concern, how despite how embarrassed and nervous he was seconds ago, it all faded away the second he thought something might be wrong. It warmed your heart in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever expected before.

“Everything’s totally fine,” you assure him, “I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

And of course, Hakkai’s face goes beat red, again, at that.

HANMA finds the morphed expression of surprise and indignation on your face absolutely hilarious.

“Shu,” you say, voice firm, “let me go.”

Keeping his arms locked firmly around your waist, Hanma simply shakes his head. It didn’t help that he had such long arms, that of which could easily wrap themselves around you entirely, or the fact that he easily had the strength to keep you there as well.

Glaring up at your boyfriend, you huff; “I need to go home. it’s getting late.”

Hanma just shakes his head, a fact that causes you to growl in annoyance, before he grins wide; “just spend the night.”

Pausing, your entire body freezes in his grasp; “what?”

“I don’t want you to leave, so spend the night.”

And it sinks in then.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

The ever say shit-eating grin on his face, Hanma all but cackles, head thrown back in amusement at the fact that you know him so well. “Of course,” he concedes with ease, “never planned on letting you leave. Even if you want to.”

“That’s kidnapping.”

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“Still kidnapping.”

Quirking a brow, Hanma glances down at you; “you don’t want to spend the night?”

Cheeks warming, you huff; “n-no, I do.” Pouting, you turn your gaze away from him, “you just could’ve asked me first.”

“Y/N/N.”

Turning back to Hanma at the suddenly serious tone of his voice, you pause, concerned.

“Would you like to spend the night?”

Instantly that concern goes right out the window.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“Regrettably.”

But both of you know you don’t really mean that.

MIKEY is absolutely confused when he sees you moving to leave.

“What’re you doing?”

Baffled, you turn to Mikey, head tilted; “getting ready to leave?”

And his words make him frown, that ever familiar pout falling on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. He slumps back against his bed like a little kid, and huffs. “I thought you were spending the night.”

It takes you a moment to process what he’s said. And the fact that he says it as if you were the one being crazy here.

Raising a brow, you glance around yourself, trying to collect your thoughts, before turning back to the child you have for a boyfriend. “You never asked me to?”

He just shrugs; “I thought it was obvious.”

“Um, no. It wasn’t.”

He perks up then, as if all was solved now that you knew you just hadn’t (somehow) caught up with the obvious.

“Oh, well, then, perfect.” Turning, he moves to grab the manga the two of you hand been reading together, before facing you once again. “Come on, I wanna see what happens next.”

Shaking your head, you jerk back; “I still need to leave?”

“You’re spending the night,” Mikey says bluntly, “I thought we covered that already.”

“We didn’t,” you huff, letting your bag fall to the ground as you turn to face Mikey fully. “I didn’t bring anything to spend the night and I’ll need to let my mom--”

“Oh, yeah,” Mikey agrees, moving to a stand, letting the manga fall back to the bed behind him. “I’ll get you something to wear and you call your mom, okay?”

He grins at you, pecking your cheek softly before moving to his closet, all whilst you continue to stand there like an idiot.

“Y/N?” Mikey calls after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Your mom?”

When you glance back at him, he’s staring back at you expectantly.

It still doesn’t click in what exactly happened even as you fall asleep in Mikey’s arms later that night.

#tokrev #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #mikey #draken #draken x reader #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuguji x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu matsuno #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji #hakkai shiba #hakkai shiba x reader

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roseblog-rog · 5 months

Text

I Guess I Do Belong in the Woman’s Room.

It’s always a scary endeavor: going into a public restroom as a trans person. There’s always that fear of being outed or shunned or screamed at or punished or SOMETHING. So many risks, all for pissing. But I digress, I have no time to worry due to how badly I have to go.

I enter the woman’s room to find a group of five girls doing makeup in the long mirror which spans the whole bathroom, lined with sinks and soap dispensers. The floor is white with recently cleaned tiles, the gray stalls packed together on the opposite side. The walls are a soft shade of pink that almost feels…comforting. Inviting.

Though no other people aside from the group appear to be in here, I move quick. I swiftly and quietly do my business and exit the stall to wash my hands, moving to the opposide side away from the group of girls, who are now giggling and applying their different colored lipstick. They’re all really fucking pretty, and I feel a warm blush creep up onto my face. I pray their laughter has nothing to do with me. That hope is short lived, however, as one of them—the one with red lips—speaks in a deep airy voice once I finish washing my hands.

“Hey girl, your fly is still open.”

Shit. Well that’s embarrassing. I nod and quickly fiddle with my zipper. I must’ve forgotten to zip it up after buttoning my pants with how much I was rushing to leave. Hopefully they didn’t notice my—

The one with pink lips speaks now, her voice being much higher and softer. “I’m sorry…but is that a bulge?”

Fuck. Now all five girls are glancing down at the bulge in my jeans. It looks so much more obvious in this new light. My face goes completely red.

“No! No. I uh…uhm…” I struggle to formulate an excuse, voice on the verge of cracking with how high and feminine I’m trying to make it combined with the tears starting to form my eyes. My worst fears were being realized, and the most embarrassing part is my gock begins twitching from all the attention.

Red chuckes and speaks again. “Hey, don’t worry girl. In case you haven’t noticed you’re not the only one packing here.”

The blunt response startles me, but with the invitation to look I now notice that all five of them also have bulges, though theirs are much harder than mine, which makes me shiver from…something.

“We didn’t mean to startle you.” Purple speaks in a rough, bright voice, elbowing Pink, who looks down in shame. “We were just, well,” she glances back down at my crotch and smirks “curious.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scary question. We get how it can be in public restrooms.” Pink looks incredibly guilty.

“Haha…yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to get so startled.” My voice settles in it’s natural state, which is still fairly feminine, though deep enough to warrant ‘suspicion’. The blush slowly fades from my face, the tears subside and my breath levels. I’m safe.

“Though I have to ask…why were you so afraid? You belong in here just like anyone else.” Blue pipes in with her quiet and monotone voice, raising an eyebrow at me.

I itch to leave, but something about the group is so comforting and intriguing that I endulge their curiosity. “Well…not really. I mean, I’m at a point in my transition where I’m much more feminine……” I trail off.

“But..?” Purple prompts.

“But I’m still so tall and lanky, my voice is deep, my stubble is annoyingly apparent…I guess I don’t feel pretty enough to be in here comfortably.”

The last member of the group, Orange, walks forward towards me at this response, clearly checking me out. I fidget in place as she gets closer. She’s taller than me, just an inch or two, but still noticeable as I slightly tilt my head up to look at her face. She’s beautiful. Her voice is so silky smooth it brings my blush right back onto my face.

“I think you’re pretty.”

I look down at the ground, my blush reaching embarrassing levels of red. I blush way too easily. “Thank you, uh, I think you’re pretty too.” I notice just how much my voice wobbles, whether it be from embarrassment or being so flustered.

Orange lifts her right hand up to my chin, using her pointer finger to gently lift my face back up to meet her gaze. I twitch again, ugh. “I mean it, how could you think you aren’t pretty enough to be here?”

She turns my body to face the mirror, and I really look at myself: my red and freckled face, my long blonde hair, my wide hips, my bulked up arms, my boobs…everything. Orange stands right behind me, softly smiling as she moves her hands down my waist. It feels so fucking good, I’ve always been so sensitive to touch…but…

“W..wait! I barely know you.” I stutter out as I move away from her. My hardening gock betrays my sentiment, but I ignore it.

Orange’s gaze softens. “That’s okay…forgive me for being so forward.” She glances down. “Though it seems like someone wants more.”

My face feels so hot I think I might just die. I can barely even get any words out, just mindless stutters. The only word I manage to speak before my mind completely blanks is “Please.”

Orange’s gaze darkens with a smirk. “Girls! Let’s help her realize just how pretty she is.”

The five of them now crowd around me, moving me so I once again face the mirror. I’m shaking, my now fully erect gock starting to drip as Red lifts my shirt off of me. Pink goes to undo my jean button and zipper while Black pulls them down. Blue undoes my bra while Orange once again begins feeling up my now exposed body. Despite the circumstances it feels so…freeing. So beautiful and—oh FUCK.

Red begins to kiss just above my right breast, leaving a very obvious lipstick mark. The five of them grin so simultaneously it’s almost terrifying. Almost. They all begin feeling me up while kissing me with their multicolored lips. I’m moaning and whimpering so much at this point that one of them exclaims “Looks like someone’s a noisemaker. She’s adorable!” However, my mind is so fuzzy and warm at this point that I can’t even tell who says it.

They’re pressed so closely against my shaking frame that it’s impossible for me to fall to my knees despite my wobbling. I can feel their hot bodies against mine, hear their heavy breathing as we all start to sweat. My skin begins to be covered with red and pink and purple and blue and orange. Little reminders of this wonderful group.

Soon enough one of them pulls my panties down and immediately makes an excited noise at my hard, dripping gock. “Holy shit! You’re gorgeous!” I then feel the now familiar sensation of a mouth being closed around it, a tongue starting to feel around it, and this earns several loud moans. The kisses from the other four girls get rougher and more sensual: sucking and biting and licking all over my quivering frame.

I feel bliss, seeing my naked body being marked and used and sucked by all these women, and I start to feel so beautiful. I notice the clear markings and lip stains…but I also notice my soft skin and nice curves and all the little things I don’t usually stop to look at. I notice how pretty and shiny my gock is, as each girl takes turns sucking on it.

I feel everything. There’s so much stimulus that I start shaking harder and moaning even more. I can barely hold myself up, but one of them is clutching me tightly by the hips to keep me from falling. “I want you to say how pretty you are.” Of course. Who am I to deny her?

“I’m pretty.” I barely get the words out.

“Again. Say it like you mean it.”

I feel myself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, a rare sensation for me with how far my transition is. I’m now completely coated in multicolored lips and bite marks and hickeys and various fluids. It’s…well, it’s pretty.

“I’m pretty!” I shout it this time, staring myself down in the mirror.

“One more time, you’re doing so good.”

“I’m pretty! I’m so fucking pretty!” I lock eyes with myself as I cum into whoever’s mouth is sucking me. I’m breathing so heavily I’m almost afraid for my safety…but these women are here for me. I’m okay.

They help me sit down and crowd closely around me, the scent of our sweat and their makeup becoming much more apparent. It’s all so wonderful and safe and relaxing that my eyes start to shut as they coddle me and play with my hair.

“It’s okay baby, you can rest.”

The last thought running through my mind is how pretty I am before I fade out of consciousness.

~~~

MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT WOAG!!! Because this is such a momentous occasion and I am so awesome, @xenasaur @lilithtransrights enjoy my cool lil thing.

#(ro)s(e)mut #hornyposting #bottomposting #:3 #transfem #trans #lesbian #transfem lesbian #i am actually the most normal ever #nsft

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greynatomy · 2 months

Text

smileys

leah williamson x reader

happy bday bestie @alotofpockets

———

Leah sighed as she navigated her way through the aisles of the grocery store. Shopping list in one hand, basket perched upon her hip, trying to find all that she needs. Eyes kept to the list in her hand, she turned a corner and collided with a tall, dark-haired stranger, sending her basket full of potato smileys sprawling across the floor.

“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” Leah exclaimed, bending down to pick up the bags of smiling potatoes. The stranger, rather than being upset, burst out in laughter.

“Guess we’re having a smiley party,” You said with a grin, helping Leah with the cleanup. The ridiculousness of the situation made her chuckle too.

Your eyes meet and Leah swore a spark of connection ignited. Placing all the groceries back in her basket, she stands back up realizing how much you tower over her. Freezing as she looks straight into your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh that seemed to break her out of her daze.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. You must think I’m this clumsy creep.”

“Not at all.”

‘Fuck.’ Leah thought. The raspiness of your voice made her knees weak.

“I know this might be a bit forward but would you like to hang out with me today?” You ask, quickly adding, “Only if you aren’t busy.”

Leah agrees almost pathetically quickly that a red hue rises to her cheeks. Needing to get her groceries home, Leah told you to follow her home — as creepy as that sounds — and she’d just ride along with you.

You took her to your favorite bakery to get one of your favorite pastries. The day was filled with shits and giggles, the world around the both of you seemingly nonexistent.

The first date, however, was not one Leah had expected. She thought you’d be taking her somewhere fancy as it was where all her exes had taken her, but you’d driven her to an unknown — at least to her — destination.

“Are you sure you aren’t going to kill me in the middle of nowhere or something?”

You let out an airy chuckle. “Of course not. You’re too pretty for that.” Leah laughs softly, noticing how much you’ve been the cause of her laughters recently.

As the car came to a stop, she’s drawn to the bright neon lights on the building.

“Welcome to one of my favorite places!” You hold your arms out wide at your sides, standing in front of the building.

“You brought me to an arcade?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t like it? ‘Cause if you don’t then that’s a dealbreaker for me, mate.”

She just laughs, grabbing your hand to pull you inside. You were very competitive and tried to tone down your competitiveness but you came to learn that Leah was the same.

This was just the first of many dates and not one was spent in a boring fancy restaurant. Leah loved how unpredictable you were and not one day was dull.

Now, two years in, your spontaneous dates never died out. Taking turns on taking the other on dates, and definitely not trying to prove that one is more spontaneous than the other.

You were peacefully sleeping on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow when a weight drops onto your back.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

The loud voice of your girlfriend wakes you up, making you grab her pillow to put on top of your head to hopefully muffle her out.

“Ugh!”

“C’mon! I’m being spontaneous, so get your ass out of bed!”

“You don’t have to wake me up at the ass crack of dawn to prove you’re spontaneous. You’re just being being annoying.”

When she doesn’t say anything, you try comfortable when the sheets were ripped away from on top of you.

“Leah!”

“Don’t be an buzzkill.”

“You should’ve advertised how much of a morning person you were before dumping all those smileys at me.” You grumbled, walking into the bathroom.

“I heard that!”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women

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gyqru · 5 months

Text

happy birthday, mr. president — drabble

as coriolanus snow and his current wife, livia, sat in the front row of the venue, they awaited the last performer's act. today marked coriolanus's twenty-second birthday, and he decided to celebrate with an array of theatrics.

none of the performances truly entertained him; they all proved to be boring. he maintained only a facade of enjoyment for the public.

"mr. president, on this occasion of your birthday, the final performance is from the lovely lady, y/n du pont," the announcer declared.

as the announcer turned, a bright light flashed on you. applause erupted as you sauntered towards the front of the stage. approaching the large podium, you thanked the announcer, and he quickly removed your fur coat.

your shiny champagne-colored dress was now on full display, sparkling under the stage light and clinging to your body. the low-cut collar left your chest and shoulders exposed, a scandalous thing to wear in front of the president and the first lady. (you and coriolanus knew that he was the one who chose this dress for you.)

after directing you to a microphone next to the podium, the announcer left. your manicured hands grasped the microphone, scanning the room as people continued to cheer.

making eye contact with coriolanus, you couldn’t help but smile at him. glancing over at his wife, you maintained the same smile, even though both of you knew it was for pleasantries.

there were rumors; people in panem loved to gossip. speculation about the president having a mistress spread like wildfire, especially when the mistress was a well-known public figure and an idol among performers.

the thrill made you giddy, knowing that only you and coriolanus knew what happened in the privacy of your own home. unable to contain the excitement, you turned your face away from his gaze.

smiling to yourself, you pretended to wait for people to quiet down. as a warning, you huffed into the mic, preparing for your performance. finally, silence fell in the room. taking a final breather, you brought the mic close to your bright red lips.

"happy birthday to you," you started. it was silly, truly. out of anything you could have performed, you chose a cliche. that didn't matter to you; it was the perfect occasion, and you made sure to accommodate the song for today's special event.

"happy birthday, mr. president, happy birthday to you," your salutary and airy voice rang in snow's ears. he couldn’t help but snicker, bringing his hand up to hide his face. this was true entertainment for snow; you were entertaining to coriolanus.

"thanks, mr. president, for all the things you’ve done, the battles you’ve won," you sang, your arms stretching out passionately to express your gratitude to coriolanus. (even if it wasn't actually for the things he's done for panem.) coriolanus snow held your heart, even if it was in secrecy.

"and dealing with our problems by the ton, we thank you so much. everybody, happy birthday!" you roar enthusiastically, squealing and jumping up like a little girl. the orchestra behind you played louder now.

your smile never wavered as you stared at coriolanus; all the noise around you was distracting, but coriolanus never stopped looking at you. a smirk plastered on his face as he clapped along with the audience.

livia clapped along too, though she couldn't help but stare at her husband as he watched you. a certain gleam in his eyes she had never seen from coriolanus before. she continued to clap for you, as your face shined bright and happy for her husband.

finally, you were escorted off the main stage as a large cake made its round. your fur coat was pushed onto you, and you quickly accepted it, heading backstage.

as your heels clicked against the floor, the sound of leather shoes brought your attention up.

coriolanus was heading in the opposite direction, towards the stage. your body couldn’t help but snap up, straightening your posture.

it was only a couple of seconds, but to you, it felt longer—the eye contact you two kept as you walked past each other. his mouth twisted into a smile as he looked down at you. your eyes, large and excited, smiled back twice as big. you two kept walking, only speaking to each other with gestures.

though you couldn’t help but look back at him as he walked away, his blonde hair bouncing. coriolanus looked back too, watching as your red heels clicked off into the background of the venue. his thoughts wandered into what was going to happen later that night—a secret kept between you and mr. president.

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

if you know what i’m referencing then i love you, but like i just needed to write this like it was too good for me to pass up. whilst we’re here… IM PUTTING OFF ‘SUPER RICH KIDS’… im scared to like post it bc im scared of criticism and i literally think my smut writing abilities suck butt. i’ll be posting other fics and blurbs until i get the balls to post ‘super rich kids’. (it’s never that srs but im scared okay)

#songbirds.com 𐙚☆⋆｡𖦹°‧#coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #fanfic #gyqru #writing

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littlebabyyd0ll · 4 months

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thinking about being felix’s incompetent little girlfriend 😩 tw: bruises and mentions of throwing up. r has long hair.

“‘ve got another bruise.” you mumble heedlessly, barely even thinking about the words that come out of your mouth as you apply lotion (which is probably enough to cover a months rent in a two-bed flat) to your calves. felix, hunched over his textbook with a blue ballpoint pen between his lips, turns swiftly towards you, following the sound of your sweet, airy voice.

he sighs at the pretty image of you, body covered by one of his old t-shirts, practically eating you whole, hair falling over your shoulders and delicately manicured fingers massaging into your supple skin. he’s sure that his eyes go soft, practically heart-shaped, watching you in your own little world. he can see the constellation of bruises that you’ve already accumulated, seemingly from nowhere. pulling the pen from between his lips, he chucks it down onto his desk and rises from his swivel chair.

it’s then that you look up at him, not a thought behind your pretty eyes. his heart flutters at the way your pupils double in size, the way your lips tilt upwards at the mere presence of him. he fills your space without hesitation, so big and full of life, so warm, so handsome. your smile widens as he sits down next to you, the depth of the shift of his mattress. bright brown eyes linger upon your legs, taking in the dark purple discolouration. felix hums, looking back at you.

“does it hurt?” he asks, reaching out towards you. his skin is warm and soft, hands of little manual labour but so much comfort and love.

you know this game, have played it a thousand times. a dramatic sigh falls from your glossed lips, pretty pout settling mere seconds afterwards. “terribly.”

“need to be more careful.” he says lowly, fingertips tracing the anklet with his initials on, a present you received during your 18th birthday in paris. the gold shimmers as he moves, raising your leg with a light yet dominant touch. felix leans down, dark strands of hair falling over his eyebrow piercing, and his lips kiss a trail upwards. he kisses you in a manner so achingly sweet, a way so felix, until he reaches the afflicted area. the kiss that he leaves there is bigger. “my little airhead, hm?”

or when you’re all drunk and sloppy :( he’s just watching you so carefully, so effortlessly your knight in shining armour. felix doesn’t stop you from downing your jägers, doesn’t stop you from sipping his stella, but his hand doesn’t leave your side the whole night, doesn’t let you out of his sight, even when you’re hunched over a group of bushes, chundering your guts up on the walk back to your accommodation.

those loving hands rub soothingly up and down your back, shushing your heaves. “that’s it. good girl, get it all out.” he doesn’t care for the violent smell, or the way that it splashes against his trainers. just cares about helping you, getting you tip-top again. his other hand gathers your hair, holding it up and away from your face.

“she’s so fucked.” arabella, one of your friends from back at your all-girls private school slurs on her words, bumping into felix’s side. he resists the urge to roll his eyes — as if she wasn’t the one shoving shots down your throat. “just give her some fucking water or something. i want to get back.”

“no one’s stopping you.” he says, motioning with his head, pointing to the way back to college towards farleigh, subliminally trying to tell him to take the others and leave the two of you to yourselves. you, of course, miss this interaction, too busy with your tear streaked cheeks and spit coated lips. your little hand reaches back blindly for him, grasping onto his green polo. his hand resumes its gentle strokes.

farleigh groans behind the butt of his cigarette, dragging your friend away and motioning for the rest of your posse to come along.

“felix.” you sob pathetically, feeling far more than sorry for yourself. his poor baby, he thinks, doing so little to take care of yourself. your heaving stops for a moment and you fall to your knees. felix is quick to react, scooping you up from underneath your armpits and pulling you away from the pile of your own sick.

“i’m here, bambi. you’re alright.” he murmurs as you shove your head into his shoulder, undoubtedly staining his top. his hands still never once leave you, even as he gives you time to regulate your breathing and choked cries, pushes your hair back time and time again.

even then, nostrils stinging with the sour smell and shoulder dead from your limp limbs, he can’t help but smile. he smiles at the knowledge that only he gets you like this, all reliant and incompetent, so desperate for him and his, in your eyes, omnipotence.

“‘m never drinking again.”

“that’s not true.”

you whine, pushing your face further into his neck. “it’s not true.”

yeah, he thinks, he’s pretty lucky with his sweet, incompetent girl.

#<3 felix catton #felix catton fluff #felix catton fanfic #felix catton #felix #catton #saltburn!!!#saltburn fluff #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn movie #saltburn #saltburn fanfic #felix catton x reader #felix catton abby’s version

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Movie Stars - Eddie Munson x Reader

WC: 5K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Distracting Jason Carver means a lot of flirting, and Eddie isn't too happy about seeing his best friend hanging off of the star basketball player. Jealousy ensues, but will it ruin your friendship?

Contents/Warnings: Jealous!Eddie, arguments, silent treatment, Eddie is angry for a bit, fluff, angst, angst to fluff, fluffy ending, tooth rotting fluff, best friends to lovers

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

"Fuck," Eddie hisses, telltale sound of Jason Carver's booming voice bidding goodbye to his friends already starting down the hallway, "He's coming!"

Eddie hasn't finished the note he's scribbling yet, the prank being your idea after Jason dumped a carton of milk over Eddie's van just the day prior. Sitting out in the hot sun, his van reeked.

The note says something along the lines of 'Meet me under the bleachers tonight at midnight ;)', and Eddie takes care to use his fanciest calligraphy handwriting to make it seem adoring. You know Jason will fall hook, line, and sinker for the secret admirer gag, because his ego is through the roof and he's desperate for a girlfriend.

Your plan will land Jason shivering under the bleachers tonight, sprawled out over the dewy grass before he finally realizes no one's coming. You're hoping he ends up too tired for the game tomorrow night, and without their star player, the Hawkins High basketball team won't stand a chance.

You can hear the squeak of Jason's sneakers on the linoleum, thinking quick and dashing down the hallway.

"Hurry!" You hiss to Eddie, patting him on the shoulder hastily and nearly rocketing into the basketball star as you round the corner.

"Woah!" He steadies you, but looks rather unimpressed when he recognizes you, "What do you want, Y/L/N?"

"I- I was wondering if I could talk to you," You dip your head down slightly, making your eyes appear shinier as your lashes flutter prettily.

"About?"

"About," You drag the word out, sidestepping so that he can't duck around you, "Your game tomorrow! I'm really excited to see you play."

Jason's brow furrows, "You're coming?"

"Of course!" You keep your voice light and airy, a lovesick lilt to it that hurts to enforce, "I love watching you play."

"I thought you were Munson's girl," Jason narrows his eyes accusatorily at you, "Why aren't'cha hangin' with the freak?"

"We're just friends," Saying that is more painful than anything you've had to spew at Jason so far, but you try not to dwell on your underlying feelings for your best friend, "I.. I think you're really cool, Jason."

You almost puke. Inflating Jason's ego is easier than it looks, but it's sickening to watch him puff up with pride, a sick smirk sliding over his slimy face.

"Finally comin' around," He drawls, reaching a bold arm around your waist to drag you close to him. You stumble backwards slightly, your form now visible from the hallway, but not his. All that's visible from Eddie's position is you, Jason's arm around your waist and your hands pressing against what he's sure is Jason's chest to steady you.

"Oh!' You let out a surprised squeak, seeing Eddie's mane of brown hair bob down the hallway as he sprints for the exit, "Um, I'm sorry Jason, but I've gotta go!"

"But I thought-"

"See you tomorrow for the big game," You smile placatingly at him from against his chest, patting it softly as you untangle yourself, "I'm sure you'll play great!"

You're off and running before he could chase you, and you ignore his confused calls of your name. You follow where Eddie had gone, slipping out of the hallway doors and squinting when the sun hurt your eyes.

You spot Eddie no problem, your best friend stalking towards his van in the parking lot. A bright grin spreads over your face as you sprint towards him, knocking into his shoulder lightly as you join him.

"It worked!" You let out a celebratory cheer, an incredulous laugh lacing your words, "I didn't think-"

"Stop." Eddie snaps, pushing you gently away from where you'd been butting against his side.

"I.." You flounder for something to say, "I'm sorry, Eddie, did I hurt you, or-"

"I'm fine." Eddie refuses to meet your eye, his voice still cold and stretched thin, "I gotta go."

"So do I," You giggle carefully, "You wanna watch a movie or something?" You finally get a good look at his face and his eyes are raging, something that makes your chest tight. His jaw is tight and you long to brush a finger over it, easing its tension. But you don't.

You reach his van and tug expectantly at the handle but he brushes your hand away, ducking into the driver's seat, "No, Y/N, I have to go. Not you. I can't give you a ride today."

"Oh." You feel your stomach shift uncomfortably, a strange sinking feeling in its pit, "I thought.. but- but everyday, you-"

"Not today." He simply states, checking his mirrors to avoid your eye, "Bye."

"Bye," You hardly manage to answer, stepping back as his van roars to life. You watch him peel out of the parking lot with tears stinging at your eyes, then you hear the door open behind you.

"Y/N?" It's Jason's voice, and it grates irritatingly at your ears, "Who you waiting for?"

"No one." You mumble quietly, the realization saddening you, "I.. I've gotta go."

"Lemme give you a ride." He offers, and you expect a sleazy smirk on his face when you turn. Instead it's a soft furrow of his brow, concern etched into his annoying features.

"It's okay," You shake your head, "I.. I should just walk."

"You live, like, ten minutes from here, by car." Jason scoffs, "Come on, Y/N."

"No," You insist, "Really, it's fine. Thank you for the offer, Jason." You step back when he starts for you, frustration taking over his face, "I'll enjoy walking."

"Whatever." Jason rolls his eyes, "Y'know, I was trying to be nice to you. 'Thought you were all over me a few minutes ago."

"Just go," You grit your teeth, already starting down the street for home, "'See you tomorrow, I guess."

You hear him mumble something under his breath, and it sounds suspiciously like, 'not sure if I want to.' But you don't care, because you don't want to see him either, and he takes off in his car only a minute later, leaving you in the dust to walk alone.

For convenience's sake, you probably should have let him drive you. But you'd rather eat mud than let Jason Carver drive you home, giving him your address and ten minutes alone with you in an enclosed space.

When you finally make it home almost an hour later, your feet are killing you. You'd never realized how far you actually lived from the school, ten minutes in Eddie's van while he talked your ear off and blasted music seeming like mere seconds, over too soon.

Worry spikes in your chest at the reminder of Eddie's foul mood earlier. Did someone say something to him outside? Did he get caught by a teacher? Did he have detention?

Then you remember his eagerness to leave. Was he in trouble? Did he get hurt? Was there an emergency?

Against your body's desperate pleas for rest, you reluctantly keep your shoes on, tossing your backpack onto the couch. You'll get an earful from your parents later about the dirty bag on their clean furniture, but Eddie is more important than a lecture, and you set out again.

The sun is beating down on you as you trek to the trailer park, and it takes you even longer to get there than it had to get home. You're sluggish and sweaty when you finally traipse up the stairs to Eddie's trailer, knocking sharply on the door.

"Eddie?" You call, peering in a window to see the lights in his room on, "Eddie, open up!"

No reply. You shift on your feet, the soles of them aching, "Eddie, it's hotter than balls out here! Please just let me in!"

You hear light shuffling from behind the door, then a lock clicks, and Eddie stands unimpressed in front of you, the door swung open.

"What do you need?" He glares at you, his rotten behavior a complete 180 from his usual bubbly disposition. He gets a good look at your flushed, sweaty face, "Jesus, did you come from hell?"

"Almost," You grimace at the reminder of nearly being in Jason Carver's car, "Let me in."

You move to brush past Eddie but he sidesteps you, keeping you on the porch. Your lips part indignantly, "Eddie!"

"You can't come in." He grumbles, his brows low over his eyes, "Just go home, Y/N."

"I just walked here for an hour," You seethe, "And I did it because I was worried about you. Let me in, dickhead."

He scoffs unimpressed at you, and your heart stings. It's not the first time he's been cross with you, but it's the first time you don't know what you've done, and it hurts to know that he's being this cold.

He finally steps out of the way, and you head instantly for the kitchen. You rummage through a few plastic cups, pulling out your favorite one and filling it with water. While you're chugging it Eddie sits atop the counter, watching you warily.

"So fuckin' messy," He chides, his voice still sharp, "Get over here."

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, smearing away a droplet of water that you'd managed to spill. His touch feels amazing, which is scary because you've only been deprived of it for a few hours, but he pulls away far too soon and crosses his arms over his chest.

"So?" He raises a brow at you, "What do you need?"

"I need to know what's wrong with you," You soften your voice, staring up at him imploringly where he's perched on the counter, "I.. I don't know what happened, but I know something's wrong. And I hate it when you're angry at me, but now I don't even know what I did, and-" Your voice teeters on the edge of cracking, and you rein yourself in with a deep, steady inhale, "I don't know what to do. I don't like this."

You feel hot tears brim in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to try and dissolve them. You're embarrassed, and you're not sure if it's for doing whatever you did, for not knowing what you did, or for crying. You feel pathetic, and you look away from Eddie miserably.

You can't see it, but his teeth dig gently into his bottom lip. He's never made you cry before. Tears sting at his own eyes, a warning of what's to come if he keeps brushing you off, and his hand shakes as he reaches it towards you.

"Y/N.." He breathes carefully, ghosting a hand over your shoulder. You flinch away from the contact and he can pinpoint that as the exact second his heart breaks, biting his tongue to keep himself from crying.

"You.. you don't get to touch me," You whisper, a broken sound as your arms wrap around yourself in a semi-comforting hug, "Not yet. Not until this is over. What did I do, Eddie, why are you treating me like this?"

This time it's Eddie feeling the absence of your comforting touch, itching to yank you into a bear hug and suffocate you until you're not angry with him anymore. Having something taken away is much different than being the taker, Eddie finds out, and he curls his fingers around the counter to prevent himself from crossing your boundaries and smothering you with apologies.

"I was upset.." The past tense refers to only seconds before, still mad when you'd shown up. But your tears had simply eradicated his jealousy, the shining trails down your cheeks stabbing at his chest.

It's a shitty explanation and he knows it. He watches your face screw up, your eyes squeezed tightly shut as your lips purse to withhold a sob.

"I.." He continues, desperate to comfort you but unable to, knowing the words that were about to escape him were meaningless against your tears, "I got jealous, sweetheart."

"Jealous?" You query brokenly, your voice thick with sadness, "Of who?"

"Of Jason," He admits bravely, putting himself out of his comfort zone to pull you back into your own, "You were.. you were really layin' it on thick, baby."

The pet names don't instill the same comfort they normally do in you, but they do assure you that Eddie can't be too mad at you. You sniffle miserably, glancing up at him through tears, "So? 'Was just for some stupid prank." You rub at your nose with your sleeve, "Why did that make you jealous?"

"Cause it sounded right." Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired expression, "It.. it looked right, too. I mean, it looked wrong, you and him. But his arm looked.. natural around your waist. And your hands were all over his chest," He groans, "It just seemed real."

You're skeptical now, squinting up at him suspiciously, still through a layer of unshed tears, "So? What are you trying to say, Eddie?"

Eddie lets out a strangled, frustrated groan, hopping down from the counter, "I'm saying I want my arm around your waist!"

You've got the same unwavering, confused look on your face, and Eddie's not bothered to admit to himself that he wants to kiss it off of you. But he doesn't want to scare you, so he backs against the counter instead, "I like you, Y/N."

"I should fucking hope so." You mumble, "'Been best friends for years."

"No, I- hnggh," He nearly laughs, your obliviousness comically intense, "Y/N, I'm in love with you."

Now that, you understand.

His confession hits you like a ton of bricks, and you stand frozen, dumbfounded in his cramped kitchen. He had never confessed to you in the first place out of a fear of rejection, and now every second that you stay silent he feels the crack in his heart slowly tear apart.

Finally, finally you speak, mumbling an abrupt, "Oh."

"Oh?" He repeats fearfully, "What does 'oh' mean?"

"Oh."

"Come on baby," He jests weakly, "'Gotta give me a little more than that."

"You.." Your brows dip adorably into a furrow, "You like me?"

"I do." He nods once, "Is that... is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay," Your shoulders relax from where they'd been stiff by your ears, and Eddie swears he can feel every ounce of tension leaking from his body, "I like you too, Eddie."

You say it so casually, and it's the answer Eddie had been hoping for, but the relief that rushes through him at your admission is heavenly. He wonders if you really know just how much it meant to him, the five simple words that you're changing his life with.

"You.. you do?" He asks, hesitant to get ahead of himself in case this was a bizarre, torturous dream that would shatter him when he woke up, "'Cause you don't have to lie to me, baby. If you don't, it's okay, I won't-"

"Shh," You step forwards, placing a finger over his lips and gazing into his eyes. He swears he's dreaming when you drag the finger from his lips over his chin, up his jaw, and settle it into his hairline as your other hand comes up to join the first one on his free cheek.

You're cupping his cheeks. You're cupping his cheeks, Eddie can feel his heart racing as you stare at him, your gaze dreamy.

"I'm not lying." You insist, "Of course I like you. How could I not? You've got these pretty brown eyes," You muse softly, your thumbs ghosting over the soft skin beneath them, "And your nose is so nice," You run a finger down it affectionately, then lean in to pop a kiss to its tip, “‘S good for kissin’.” He feels his heart explode, then your finger immediately goes back to his cheek, "And.. and you've got really nice lips."

To prove your final point your fingers dance over them, the soft pillowy pads dipping slightly under the pressure you apply. Eddie feels like he's dreaming, caught up in some heavenly universe that he could get sucked out of any second, and he tries desperately to commit the feeling of you admiring him to memory before it slips away.

"I want to kiss you," You confess, your fingers pressing softly against his lips, "Can I?"

'Course you can," He breathes incredulously, his lips puckering to press gently into the pads of your fingertips. It's intimate, love bleeding through the gesture.

You only remove your hands to fulfil your promise, pressing your lips to his own in a careful, delicate kiss. It's soft, sweet, and dizzying, only lasting for a few seconds before you both pull away. Your head is fuzzy, and it leaks into your heart. He's looking at you like you hung the moon, his big doe eyes shining with adoration as they flit over your face.

He can't believe this is real. He can't fathom that he's just kissed you, that you've just kissed him, that you two have kissed.

He’s not sure how many nights he’s fallen asleep thinking about you. He tends to fantasize, though it’s a word he’ll never use for fear of embarrassment, about you. It's easier to fall asleep when someone else is there, and it's the easiest thing in the world when it's you. Most nights feature different fantasies, scenes in time from the preview of a movie he hopes is starting now.

Some nights he imagines what it would be like to teach you to play the guitar. You’ve strummed his mindlessly a few times, but he drifts off thinking about how adorable you’d be with his guitar in your lap, your fingers running cautiously over the strings as he compliments how metal you’re becoming.

Other nights you’re going grocery shopping with him in his daydreams. You lead him down the aisle, your fingers eagerly stretched towards a package of Oreos, and he gives in only if you promise to let him kiss the cream off of you after you’ve had a few.

The there’s the less common, but still precious, vacation fantasy. He supposes he doesn’t think about this one as often because he’s content where he is, as long as you’re there too. Still, sometimes it’s nice to imagine a ski lodge with you, snowflakes dotting your eyelashes and frosty air nipping at your nose. He’d make you hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and marshmallows, then he’d let you fall asleep on his shoulder before a roaring fire.

But this, you gently pressing your silky soft lips to his own slightly chapped ones in the dinky little kitchen of his trailer after confessing your love to him? He’s going to rewatch this scene every night for the rest of his life.

He doesn't think he looks much like a movie star. Maybe the star of an action movie, a rugged adventurer. But never a romance. Romances aren't made with guys like him, guys who have messy hair down their back and tattoos littering their chest. Romances are made for proper couples, couples that live in a three bedroom home, two kids inside and another on its way, dog and a picket fence. Couples that host backyard barbecues, that go to the lake on sundays, that buy their kids barbie dolls and monster trucks.

Not him.

You, though? You were made to be a star. Your pretty face, your sweet eyes and your soft lips. You're the pinnacle of romance, and it feels foreign to Eddie that he isn't an audience member anymore, instead the lead actor.

Eddie doesn't know what he's done to land the starring role in your romance, but he swears right then and there that he'll never botch the job.

"You taste good." You absentmindedly ghost your tongue over your lips, saliva now glistening on them as you contemplate, "You're sweet."

Eddie is absolutely certain you're wrong. He probably tastes like smoke, sweat, and the trail mix he'd had for lunch, which he assumes isn't a very appealing combination. But you lean in again with no hesitation, pressing your slightly dampened lips to his own.

This time, he lets himself react. Before he'd been frozen in terror, sure that any sudden movement would spook you and you'd flee. But now? Now he dives in.

He brings his hands to cup your cheeks, tilting your face slightly so that his nose doesn't run into your own. He'll admit, rubbing noses with you is one of his favorite things, or, used to be, before he kissed you for the first time, because it was just about the closest he could get without actually kissing you. He was always able to pass it off as a friendly gesture of affection, scrunching his face up into a smile and brushing his nose against your own. But now the gently brush of skin on skin is nothing compared to your lips on his.

His tongue longs to roll into your mouth, but he doesn't want to take things too far, not yet. He wants to savor this, he wants to feel every step of the process, cherish it before it gets too hot and heavy. Right now, he wants to kiss you, nothing more.

He brushes his tongue softly over your bottom lip to satiate his urges. It draws a soft whimper out of your mouth, a sound that, in any other circumstances would go straight south. But it warms his heart this time, hearing how much you're enjoying finally kissing him.

Though this kiss lasts longer than the last, it's still short. He really does want to take things slow, and he breaks away to rest his forehead against yours.

He can't help the grin that grows over his lips. He feels a similar one stretch your cheeks, his hands still cupping the slight pudge there. He's squealing inside, reduced to a giggling schoolgirl stomping his feet and doodling your names together inside of an arrow-struck heart. But he keeps himself relatively cool on the outside, feeling you press yourself tighter against him.

"Did I.. was that good? For you?" You question hesitantly, and his eyes drift open to meet your own only centimeters away. He realizes that you're insecure, that your eyes are wide with anxiety and that you're stiff in his grip.

Something is flattering about that. You'd just kissed him dizzy, reduced him to a blushing mess, and still you were worried about his enjoyment.

"That was.. perfect." He breathes, tilting his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, the familiar gesture skyrocketing in intensity, "I've been dreaming about that, baby."

"Dreaming? About me?" Your eyes shine, and Eddie promises to himself that the next time you close them, he'll kiss the lids. He wants to kiss every pretty part of you, from head to toe.

"About you," He confirms, "You're the star of all my dreams, sweetheart."

You giggle at that. He sees the tension drain from your frame, anxiety about not being good enough, and he watches you embrace your new role as lead actress.

"I've dreamt about you before too." You admit, raising one hand to press against one of his on your cheek, "We took your van to space, it turned into a rocket."

He lets out an amused laugh at your nonsensical dreams, not sure how to correct you that his were more on the domestic side.

"A rocket? That's cool." He murmurs, refraining from speaking too loud lest he shatters the silent intimacy you've created in the kitchen of his trailer.

"Eddie?" You hum softly, twisting one of his rings mindlessly around his fingers with your eyes downcast, "What are we now?"

He feels himself sucked out of his role. He swallows dryly, realizing that there was still a chance you might not want to be his costar.

"Well," He starts, his voice much more confident than he is, "Would you like to date me, sweetheart? I could be your boyfriend, if you want."

Then a blinding smile breaks over your face, and he's not worried anymore.

"I want you to be my boyfriend," You nod eagerly, now bouncing on the balls of your feet on the tile, "You mean it, Eddie?"

"'Course I mean it," He urges, "I'll give you my jacket when you're cold, and I'll catch you when you jump into my arms to say hello, and I'll lend you my shirts to wear for bedtime."

"You already do all of that stuff," Your nose wrinkles slightly in confusion, "I'm wearing your shirt right now."

He glances down at your torso, and hooks a finger under the hem of your jacket to reveal an old Iron Maiden shirt he'd let you borrow. He feels sheepish as he realizes he's already been pseudo-dating you for years, and picks out the one thing he's missed.

"Well then I'll kiss you," He promises, "All the time."

"All the time?"

"All the time." He threatens, his eyes growing wide as his hands clamp onto your hips, "You won't ever escape."

"Eddie!" You shriek as you make a run for it, giggling relentlessly as you sprint through his trailer and into his bedroom. He races after you, catching you before you can beeline for the closet and catapulting you onto his mattress. You land with a hearty bounce, and Eddie hovers over you before your back hits the bed again.

"Come here," He growls teasingly, his curls spread over your face as he digs his nose into your neck. His lips form rapidfire kisses on your skin, drawing hearty laughter from your chest that he hopes is part of the soundtrack for your movie, because he wants to listen to it on repeat. He presses his lips tight to your jaw, blowing a sloppy raspberry there and tightening his hold on your hips when you try squirming away.

"Eddie!" You finally manage to catch his face in your hands, tugging it away from where he's smothering it into your cheek, "Eddie, that tickles!"

You're breathless, your chest heaving with laughter, and Eddie takes pride in being able to do that to you. He makes you laugh. He makes you smile. He makes you happy.

You're staring up at him with a lovesick grin on your face that he's sure is displayed over his mouth too. So he connects them, bending his elbows to kiss you for real.

Despite your somewhat suggestive position, he keeps his hands to himself. They're holding your hips, content in their positioning as he lays another sweet kiss to your lips. This time when he breaks away he collapses beside you, keeping one leg thrown over yours. His hair fans out over the pillow and tickles your face, and your nose scrunches as you splutter.

“Sorry,” He’s really not, because getting to see your face all bunched up as his hair tickled your nose was priceless, but he lies.

“‘S okay,” You grab one of the strands you’d just spit out of your mouth, twisting the end of it around your finger, “And your hair! I like your hair too.”

Eddie’s heart explodes as he realizes you’re adding onto his list of likable qualities from before.

"Oh yeah? Well," He decides to return the favor, slipping his arm underneath yours that's still toying with his hair, "I like your nose."

He leans in to press his lips to it, "Yours is good for kissing too."

You giggle under him, a light, airy sound that sends his tummy turning.

"And your eyes," He runs a thumb through your lashes and they flutter beneath his touch, "'Can see aaaall that love you've got in there for me."

He realizes too late that it's a step you haven't taken yet as lovers. Sure, you've told him that you love him plenty of times, and he has too. But now it's different, now it's more.

But, he realizes, as your eyes shine with adoration, your lips moving to echo his sentiment, it's not more. It's the same as he's always felt about you, suffocating, intoxicating, all-consuming. He's loved you like this forever.

He grins as you tell him you love him without hesitation. He feels like the luckiest man in the world as he settles down beside you, your eyes following his as your lovesick grin becomes permanent. He's not sure if his own will ever fade, not as long as he's got you by his side. Just like you are now, tucked neatly into his chest, the collar of your jacket riding up to cover your jaw. He tugs it down and presses a kiss to the jut of your chin, then leaves his face there nestled into your own. He feels your own lips pucker to stain his skin with a soft peck, tightening his hold around your waist as he keeps you close to him in his bed.

"Y'sleepy?" You drag a single finger through his hair, letting your nail ghost over his scalp. He nearly purrs, reduced to a clingy kitten amidst the tsunami of love that had just washed over you both.

"Just happy." He hums. The droop of his eyelids is drawn from contentedness rather than exhaustion, the haze taking over his brain comes from the steady scent of you that he's breathing in while his face is nuzzled against your own.

"Me too," You admit, "Can we just stay here for a while?"

"Baby," He chuckles breathily against your face, seemingly unable to stop the onslaught of kisses that he's smothering you with, "We're never getting out of this bed again. I'm keeping you here forever."

tags: @spencestyles @lovinondylanobrien @th0rswh0res @hannyhoe @desireav @1800-fight-me

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