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#they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off of each other
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https://twitter.com/sluttywh0r3/status/1738661113154220340?t=VYLoAeMTbPq_UQ-a7lMuVA&s=19
You were both so horny but you just ran out of your birth control and didn't have any condoms so Simon said he'd pull out only to have you riding him and refusing to get off of him and begging him to cum inside you
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
READ IT HERE- Coming Soon
9-1-1, yes hello? There is an attempted murder in progress. Yes, it is on my sanity, thank you.
Seriously, you guys are trying to kill me, right? Because there is no way in hell I am supposed to read that and stay sane. I'm gonna have to take a minute just to get through the rest of this post after the flood of images that just entered by brain.
But damn if it ain't a pretty scenario to think about. I am mean come on, just thinking about you and Simon being so fucking out of your minds horny for each other that you are willing to risk everything is hot as hell. Just him heavy breathing in your ear, telling you how good he wants to make you feel, the vibration from his voice making your clit throb as his lips leave trails of tingles along the side of your neck from the warmth of his lips.
Just the feeling of you under his fingertips has him panting as he tries to shove his hands in your pants, in your shirt, or both if he's lucky. He needs to make you come, it's the only thing he cares about in that moment; he needs to know that he has the power to make you fall apart and it consumes him until it is agony.
Probably wouldn't even make it to the god damn bed before he is ripping off your clothes as fast as those thick fingers can get into them and then immediately throwing your legs on his shoulders and thrusting inside you the second he can; he'd just drag you onto the floor with him and spread your thighs wide. That massive, virile man isn't going be able to create anything more than a few coherent words before it's all grunts like an animal in heat.
"We'll be careful. Com' on, sweetheart...Mmmm fuck... swear I'll fuckin' pull out. Just need ta be inside ya."
(I can feel the flames licking at me right now just for thinking about this lol).
Then you end up on top and Simon is on cloud fucking nine watching you completely lose your mind at how good it feels that the minute you start begging him to come inside you, that promise he made to you about pulling out flies out the fucking window without a second thought. You pleading with him to fill you up is going to awaken that feral part of his brain that he will not be able to control and it's gonna be all over.
"Christ, can't say no to ya ever, pretty girl. Ya want it inside ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."
He'd be so out of it, high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that he will not even fight you on it. He isn't even going to hesitate to keep going all the way until you both are a whole god damn mess and you are leaking his cum. Shit he'd make sure you got everything you want by keeping your hips locked together with his tight grip as he begins to slam up into you harder and harder, loudly grunting from the strain through that point of no return. The risk would be 100% worth it at that point.
And you'd be so gone with his cock shoved so far in you that your brain cannot even create a single thought other than to come on it. So what if this hot as hell romp leads to an oopsie; he'd make a great dad, right?
Don't worry, he's thinking the same thing and he's fine with it.
"Jus' don't fuckin' stop."
Give me a bit to write this all out cause I really really REALLY need this to be a full fledged fic.
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azrielbrainrot · 8 hours
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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6
Azriel x Reader
Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.
Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore
Word Count: 5550
Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!
Part 5
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The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.
You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.
Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.
It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.
The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.
Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.
The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.
The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.
“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.
You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.
His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.
The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.
He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.
“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.
Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.
Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.
As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.
“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.
“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.
Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.
He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.
All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.
Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.
“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.
You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.
“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”
“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.
“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.
“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.
“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”
“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.
“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.
“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.
Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.
“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”
“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.
“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”
You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.
Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.
“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”
“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.
You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”
“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.
“Azriel-”
“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”
“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”
“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?
His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.
Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.
The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.
This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.
You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.
Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.
The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.
You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.
Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.
Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.
“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.
“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.
“What do you mean?”
“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.
Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.
You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.
When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.
It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.
You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.
Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift your face to his, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.
You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.
All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.
You're finally free.
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xxchumanixx · 2 days
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Hii, some Tim Bradford X sunshine!reader who is his rookie??
Little Miss Sunshine
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Tim Bradford x reader
Warnings: pure fluff, honestly so much fluff, reader is a little sunshine. Word count: 801 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I hope you'll like it, I for my part really do! Enjoy!
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It all had started when Grey played the matchmaking game, assigning each of the new rookies to a TO. You were paired with Tim Bradford, a man that was as equally handsome as distant at first.
He looked like someone you wouldn't want to mess with, sure kicking your ass out on the street first chance he'd get.
So, when you were sitting in the shop together, after he explained everything he deemed necessary, he was truly surprised by your calm, yet radiating nature.
You would do what he'd tell you with a smile on your face, responding so calmly yet confident, that he at first thought you were messing with him. You made it hard for him to be grumpy and moody, his Tim-tests falling short.
He'd soon call you little miss sunshine, the name fitting - in his opinion - like a glove to you. You were kind, friendly and open to him and others, not like many others of his rookies had been in the past.
You were constantly trying to make him smile, making jokes and funny comments, all the while still focusing on your work.
It was something he valued, being surprised at the way you were always a hundred percent on board, no matter if you'd only moments ago made a joke or just simply admired the sun shining down at you, in a city that had only about 40 days of rainy weather.
After about half a year he was sure he'd never have a rookie like you again - not because he didn't want to, but because you were so truly special, that he was sure he'd never find someone like you again, even if he'd try.
Your smile reached depths of his heart he would have never dared to mutter out loud, bathing in your glow in secret whenever you'd grace him with one of your smiles.
You were slowly melting him, like a snowman in the sun. He was the snowman and you were undoubtedly the sun, melting his icy ways until he was puddy in your hands.
You were slowly turning him inside out, something everyone but him seemed to notice at some point.
"Hey, Tim." you spoke up, silently giggling to yourself already. His head tipped your way, motioning for you to continue, whilst he continued driving. "Why was Cinderella so bad at soccer?"
He sighed to himself, the tug of his lips barely hidden as he fought against a smile. "Why?"
"Because she kept running from the ball!"
He inhaled deeply and stilled for a moment, shaking his head, as he let go of the air slowly in a way to stop himself from giving into you. Afterwards he snorted though, chuckling to himself.
"That was a bad one." he chided you playfully, and you rolled your eyes with a grin stretching your lips. "You laughed, so it wasn't that bad, Bradford."
Now he rolled his eyes, snorting again. "You're insufferable." he told you, though he knew he was far from the truth. If he could he would have listened to you telling bad jokes all day, just to listen to you at all.
"Shut up." you retorted, lightly shoving him. "You love me and you know it."
He had to refrain himself from inhaling shakily, opting to clear his throat instead. You were right, and it pained him.
It pained him in a way that made it very clear for him that you were his rookie, thus off limits to him. You still had a few months of training left, which meant he'd have to stay behind the fine line of decency until then.
He'd ask you out on a date, if you'd want that, afterwards.
Until then, he'd have to admire you from the distance.
And you had to, too.
It hadn't taken long to fall for the handsome an broody man. He accommodated his training to your needs, always keeping an eye out for you.
He laughed at you silly jokes, even if they weren't funny at all.
You couldn't wait for your training to be over, finally being able to make a move on your feelings for him, that had you floating towards the sun.
"Another one:" you proposed, sitting more upright. "What do you call an angry carrot?" You patiently waited for an answer of his, not missing the way he sent you a look of confusion through his peripheral, causing you to chuckle.
"A steamed veggie!"
You were laughing, and that was all it took for him to laugh along with you. He was knee deep in trouble, but he would gladly drown in it, if it meant he'd be able to spend time with you, see your smile and hear your laugh.
'Cause after all, you were his little miss sunshine.
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@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly
@augustvandyne @RookieTrek
@dhunhdchrih @nachofriess
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agentplutonium · 2 days
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hehehe would a 'sam drawing darlin' prompt work for youuuu 👀👀👀
OOOO this is interesting. Hold on lemme bang something out really quick.
Pairing: Sam/Darlin
WC: 958 (... oops? These are meant to be small), unedited.
Rating: Gen.
Zozo is talking about this post.
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
It was a stupid idea.
"Excuse me?"
"It's a trend!" Tank defended. "We sit down, set a time limit, and then show each other the result. It's fun!"
But the way that Darlin' was looking at him, begging him to do this--well, he couldn't say no, could he?
"Alright. Let's go then."
Darlin' would later deny this, but they lit up before rushing off to get the supplies. Sam chuckled, chest fighting in the surge of affection for them.
A few minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in the kitchen, supplies spread out on their respective sides, and papers connected to clipboards to "prevent cheating" (in Darlin's words). How they would cheat at drawing each other, Sam wasn't sure, but he was just along for the ride at this point.
"Ten minutes," Darlin' announced, setting a timer on their phone. "That should be long enough. You ready?"
"As ready as I can be," Sam said, a small smile on his face.
"Alright," Darlin' set the phone in between them, finger hovering over the start button. "And. Go!"
The timer started, and Darlin' grabbed their pencil in a haste. Sam wasn't sure where to start. His pencil hovered above the paper as he worried his lip between his teeth. There was just so much about his Darlin' that he loved, he wouldn't forgive himself if he left something out, or didn't do their beauty justice.
30 seconds tick by. With a deep breath, Sam started.
He wasn't new at drawing, by any means. He had taken classes around realism for a while and had a habit of drawing those around campus when he was in school. It had just been a while. The first few marks he made he went back on immediately. After a while, as he got more comfortable, it got easier. He kept glancing up at Darlin', watching how their eyes focused on what they were working on, how the sun caught on their eyes, highlighting the colour, the way that their lips parted just so in concentration.
Sam was always told that he was quiet, but when he was quiet he was observant, and his favourite thing to observe was his Mate. There were so many little things that fascinated him about Darlin', and he couldn't get enough. Sam learned something new every day about them and of course, he learned their habits and systems. He could live and breathe Darlin' if the situation ever called for it.
Ten minutes flew by way faster than he wanted it to, but he was proud of the work he was able to finish.
Darlin' resolutely set down their coloured pencil, sighing. "Okay. Are we ready to show off the results?" They asked, excitement just barely being held back.
"Do you want to go first?" Sam asked.
Darlin' nodded, grabbing for their phone. "We're recording this so I can send it to the mates later."
Sam chuckled but didn't object.
"Okay! Here, hold this up beside your face for comparison," they said, handing him their paper. "Don't look at it yet!"
Sam did, smiling to himself.
"Okay, you can look," Darlin' said.
Sam turned the paper around, and couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. In the most loving way possible, it looked like something an eleven-year-old would draw.
"Don't laugh!" Darlin' reprimanded.
"I'm not laughing at it," Sam said, "It's just so... good."
"Don't say good like that," Darlin' groaned.
"I mean it. I love it, Darlin'. I'll cherish it forever."
Darlin' got flustered at those words, but they refused to comment at it. "Let me see yours already, I'm sure you didn't do much better."
Sam shrugged. "That's for you to judge."
"Here, take the phone," Darlin' said, turning the phone around and stretching over the table. Sam did, trying to keep the camera steady. "Now give me your paper so people can compare."
Sam did, and watched as Darlin' held it next to their face. He had to say, sitting like this, he was very proud of how it came out. He felt like he really captured who they were. Darlin' finally turned the paper around, and their jaw dropped just a bit once they saw it.
"You didn't tell me you could draw!" They protested.
Sam laughed, head falling back a bit. "You never asked," he countered.
"Yeah but like," Darlin' gestured to the paper, "this is like, really good!"
"So you like it?"
"I love it, Sam," Darlin' said. The sincerity in their voice was evident, and it made Sam smile bigger. He stopped the recording before he continued.
"I'm glad."
"I feel like mine's awful now. Look at this!"
"Your's is perfect, Darlin'," Sam assured. "We can put them up side by side."
"I don't know if I want to do that," Darlin' said.
Sam stood, walking over to them. "They deserve to be put together," he argued, tilting their head up so he could kiss them, "just like we deserve to be together.
Darlin' groaned, rolling their eyes, "Don't be all sappy on me right now."
"Never," Sam said, smiling down at them before pulling them into another kiss.
"When did you even learn to draw?" Darlin' asked.
Sam shrugged. "I had a lot of free time between classes, so I used to draw the people around me. They weren't the stillest subjects, but it gave me good practice. Especially in learning to draw fast, because there is no guarantee they would stay there for more than a few minutes."
"How come I never heard about this?"
Sam laughed, "Again, because you never asked."
Darlin' rolled their eyes. "Jerk."
Sam hummed, "A jerk that you love."
"Not the point."
"Sure it isn't," Sam said, kissing them again.
-END-
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rottengurlz · 2 months
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"In the crooks of your body, I find my religion."
#oc: noelle#oc: avery#happy valentines day!!!!!!!11#the way avery looks at her#IM GONNA BE SICK#there is no place he'd rather be than to be wrapped around noelle#in game photos you will always be my greatest enemy#mysims#the sims community#simblr#sims 4#ts4#sims 4 edit#avery would be so panicked when it comes to valentines he spent most of his life wathcing his parents tear themselves apart#and has never allowed or wanted to have a connection with someone like he has with noelle#even tho he'd be freaking out he'd have this huge detailed plan#noelle would tell him to not worry about it and they can just hang out at her apartment like normal#and avery would be like uhhuh yeahh yeah all while thinking about the 100000 things he has planned#the day would start with them in the picture where they're wrapped up together enjoying each others warmth#they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off of each other#sorry they fuck nasty#avery would've already had flowers on their way to be delivered so when they get up for the morning they'd be ready for her#he'd pick out lisianthus because he researched they last longer and knows noelle loves flowers but gets sad when they die#after that avery would take her around the city to all of his favorite places all the places that make him happy#he couldn't think of any better gift than really opening himself up to noelle and allowing her to learn everything about him#he's never wanted anyone to learn or know anything about him until noelle#he'd have running commentary the entire time like how at a grocery store an old lady hit him with her purse#when he tried returning her wlalet she dropped because she thought avery stole it#“old bitch” “avery thats not nice” “she HIT me”#gfjhhjfjfhfj
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Still surprised I haven't seen more Quarantined Together fics, like your face getting to stay with you alone for months with that nice fanfic spin on it??? I would simply die
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anantaru · 4 months
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EYES OF GOLD AND SAPPHIRE — ZHONGLI
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zhongli is still learning on how to control himself around you. wc. 750
・✶ 。 warnings — feral zhongli, size kink/size difference, fem! reader
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"you're s-so breathtaking,"
without delay, you find yourself spellbound under zhongli's famished glare— and you notice how his warm palm was slowly scattering along the slopes of your frame as the other tightens around your hip to keep you pressed against the mattress.
your fingers tighten in his hair, and your tongue swipes along his bottom lip as his hot breath pans against your doused skin, his hips thrusting up to meet your own when he suddenly stutters in his thrusts.
zhongli feels lightheaded at the sopping clench of your hole snatching his attention away, his cock aching to bury itself to the hilts of you when he ultimately decides against it.
instead, he clutches one hand on your hips to reduce his tempo, "z-zhongli," you sob out, dreamily as you catch your boyfriend's gaze shift to that of a much softer expression, your hands squeezing roughly at the skin of his biceps as to show your desperation for him, "faster.. please," you continue, "—like earlier," your words are so breathless and needy that it causes his cock to thicken and throb in you as your arousal soils the fabric under your moving bodies.
"you could get hurt," he whispers angel alike, tugging at the origin of your pleasure as your body litters with goosebumps, sweat clinging to your skin. in this moment in time, you let him hold you for what felt like a couple minutes before you begin to ruffle his hair a bit, his cock continuously throbbing in your cunt although not moving.
zhongli wasn't certain on how long he was able to keep himself like that, but he find himself flushed at the feeling of indulging in your warm, soft cunt milking his cock— it's in a momentary trice but it was passionate enough to manifest a warm whirlwind down his spine.
"you won't, i trust you," it's like an echo the way zhongli groans deep into his chest when he heard you say it, "please," you whine, "i just need you, please," you affirm him, and there's a throb between your thighs that coaxed a whine from the tip of your tongue, amplified by a couple wet kisses on your cheek as his hips leisurely begin to rock back and forth again.
you squeeze around him tighter, "you will tell me?" zhongli feels his lungs convulse with each exhale from the sudden rush of excitement when you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, the flicker of lust in your eyes undeniable and practically sweeping him off his feet.
it's heavy to have him only move just a little and zhongli knows, but the impact of each thrust left you dizzy despite the intensity being on the softer side— although your exhaustion was clearly visible and partially his fault, the experience zhongli had would always leave you speechless, until your tummy would feel so heavy and crowded that you wouldn't be able to lift yourself up off the bed even if you tried to. 
"I will tell you, baby, i will, i will—," zhongli nods in response before placing your legs over his shoulders as he pulls his weight against your chest, and you're breathing so heavily from him claiming and caging you, your breasts squeezed as he moves his cock out of you only to drag his entire length back with one swift snap of his hips, knocking the air off your lungs.
the impact of skin on skin was turning your vision entirely white as if you were purposely staring right into a lamp for far too long.
you moan as you fail to control the tremble under his looming body, his hips again and again, pressing in deep and fast, in fact, so deep that you were now repeatedly full of him, your walls smoldering over his thick shaft as he crowds your pussy that it made his pace stutter before he reaches his previous tempo.
a grunt leaves his throat at the lewd sight of your erected nipples and tits jumping in tandem with his hips rocking you up and down the mattress, that's when you finally get a good look on him, his eyes focused but needy— a tint of red lace on his cheeks, something dark with an unique sense of lust pooling in his golden gaze as his cock twitches when he hits that saccharine-platted spot in you, forming you into a puddle of satisfied mewls and desperate cries.
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©2023 anantaru  do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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cyberjam · 10 months
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ATSV HEADCANON: they get jealous . . . ☆
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warnings - mainly just fluff, maybe a hint of yandere if you squint, insecurities, gender neutral reader, no use of y/n or reader and jealousy from our fave spiders.
word count - 2.4k
main masterlist <33 | proof read?: yes.
based off of this request: jealous hc !!
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. . . ☆ miles morals!e-1610
He'll try and ignore the nasty feeling of jealousy but it's tough when all he can think about is how joyous you look spending time with another guy that isn't him.
It slowly eats away at him the more time you two spend away from each other, and sooner or later you'd notice the change in his demeanor. He was quieter, his greetings weren't the same, and his energy constantly seemed low. Every time you said something he'd reply with a simple hum of acknowledgment and if you were trying to cheer him up with a corny joke the only thing you'd receive was a faulty breath from his lips and a lopsided grin.
His hugs weren't bone-crushing anymore, his texts were in one-words, and even when you two shared a class he acted different. Instead of the usual passing notes and quiet laughter at inside jokes, he simply turned his body towards the window and stayed quiet. He didn't spare a single glance in your direction until the bell rang. Even then he didn't look at you, blankly staring at the floor while gathering his things and blearily walking out with slouched shoulders.
So many confusing thoughts and hurt feelings from made-up scenarios circled around his brain. He wanted to talk to you so badly and just make sure everything was okay. He just didn't know how to approach it, so it continued to eat at him until you confronted him about it.
You saw him walking his usual route towards his place and couldn't help but chase him down. You constantly pestered him and asked him questions to get to the root of the problem but all he did was respond with simple phrases like "I'm fine.", "M' just tired.", and "Nah, I'm good."
Your dedication and unwillingness to let him go home angry finally paid off when he snapped. His words jumbling and his hands flailing in the air as he unleashed every thought and feeling that led to that moment.
Once he finished his rant, you two stood across from each other in complete silence. His chest lifted up and down as if he was exhausted. No words could come to your mouth, but your legs moved without hesitation and before you knew it your arms engulfed him in a tight hug. You felt bad for not being able to express how you felt in words but all miles needed was reassurance and your arms being wrapped around him was more than enough.
. . . ☆ miles morales! e-42
Miles is very straight-forward and blunt. He speaks his mind, which can be a blessing and a curse. With his over-protective nature and blank-like expressions he's more intimidating than most, especially when confronting people he thinks are getting too chummy with you. If a guy is checking you out, miles will speak up before you even notice. "ay, you got a starin' problem or sum?" in situations like these he tends to get touchier with you. Either resting a hand on your hip or hanging his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into his side.
Miles has a certain phrase that he says whenever you scold him for being so confrontational. "They gon have to get through me to get to you." and he tends to stand on that word.
Miles isn't shy of confronting people, or even using violence when it comes down to it. He prefers to handle situations like these with as least violence as possible. He doesn't want to subject you to that kind of thing, if anything he wants to keep you away from it. It's why he's so protective of you and also why you don't know he's the prowler.
You were walking home late at night all by yourself, and as much as you wanted miles to be there with you, he couldn't. You texted him letting him know you'd be staying late after school because of a project. He mentioned how he wouldn't want you walking home by yourself, especially so late at night. So, he decided he'd drive you back home on his motorcycle.
But when the time came for him to pick you up, you were left stranded. He never returned your countless calls or text messages which led into you walking back home all by yourself. Uncomfortable would be an understatement to describe the way you felt as you whisked your way passed sketchy groups of people with your head down. You took shortcuts and turned into ally's to get away from any potential threats not knowing you'd walk right into the hands of one.
A tall lanky man with sunken eyes somehow cornered you in-between the brick wall of a random apartment complex. You were terrified. Your legs grew weak, and your nose started to sting in warning of the incoming tears. All you could do was push your body as far as you possibly could into the wall behind you. Desperately hoping it would engulf you and take you as far away as possible from the situation.
You shut your eyes, bracing for whatever torturous impact to come. Fortunately, it never did. Instead you felt a swift gust of wind past you and the sound of a hard thud paired with a low groan. You cracked your eyes open only to see the mask of the most-feared vigilante in New York. He walked closer and closer until he was finally hovering over you, his mask nearly touching your nose.
As you stood frozen in shock, a clawed hand rested next to your face. "What I say? They gotta get through me to get to you."
. . . ☆ gwen stacy
Gwen is a liar. You can ask her if she's jealous and she'd respond with a scoff and wobbly smirk, scratching the side of her head before replying with something along the lines of "Jealous? No, way." when in reality she's seething. She wants to be completely secure and unbothered like Hobie, but there's always this nagging voice in the back of her head that fills her with annoyance and bitterness.
When someone shows any type of romantic interest in you she'll get tense and her cool facade will be replaced by her visible discomfort. She knows you love her and is continuously reminded when you shut down any confessions, but that painful uneasiness still comes no matter what.
Depending on what mood she's in that day she'll either tense up and shy away from the situation or desperately try to avert your attention back to her.
When one of your classmates walks up to you complimenting you and eyeing you up and down, Gwen's hand that was loosely holding yours fell to her side before returning to her jacket pocket. Her shoulders squared to her ears as she quietly sighed and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She avoided eye-contact with you and the person, choosing to look around the hallway as if she wasn't eaves-dropping into the conversation. (she was)
Once the person leaves she'll grab your hand and start pulling you towards the exit "that was weird, right?" she'd murmured half-jokingly while nudging her shoulder with yours.
The next time you and that person interact is when Gwen is over your place. Once you excuse yourself from the conversation and take the call from your classmate, Gwen once again gets antsy. But she's much more combative this time around. She'll snatch her drumsticks up and start tapping on any and all surfaces she can reach. Calling out your name to get your attention so you can focus on her instead of your classmate.
All in all it really depends on what mood you catch her in. She can either be awkward and tense or combative and loud. At the end of the day all she wants is your attention.
. . . ☆ pavitr prabhakar
Pavitr is quite secure in himself and in the relationship, but he does get jealous on occasion. Never from a situation of you simply getting hit on or someone complimenting you, more so from his own insecurities and made-up scenarios that he plays in his head.
He enjoys the time you two have together fully enveloped in each others presence. So, when that time gets interrupted by someone he gets sulky. Time is already very limited for pavitr. With school and his spider duties on top of it he doesn't have as much time to spend with you as he wants. So once he gets you alone he doesn't want a single distraction to interrupt your private time.
A part of him feels guilty that he isn't able to spend much time with you. He has a small insecurity that pops up every now and then, telling himself that you deserve someone who's more attentive and available to your needs. He wants to be that man for you but his responsibilities prevent him from doing so.
You've already mentioned to Pav that you understand he's a busy man with a hefty schedule, so any time you two spend together is valued and cherished. It makes him happy that you're so forgiving and transparent but that doesn't stop the self-shaming thoughts of how bad of a boyfriend he sometimes thinks he is.
Pavitr has a habit of getting you gifts. When his guilty conscience is eating at him for missing out on a romantic date or simple hangout, he tends to buy you more gifts than usual. A single rose will turn into a bouquet, A cute hand-beaded bracelet will turn into a full jewelry set, a bedazzled headband will turn into multiple hair scrunchies and a full pack of hair care.
Once you've noticed this habit you were quick to shut it down, you didn't want him spending money every time he felt bad for having to bail and do his spider duties.
All he needs is to be pampered and reminded that what you want is him, and only him. Tell him how much you adore him and smuggle him in affection. Whether it be words of affirmation, quality time, or physical touch, Pavitr will immediately be putty in your hands. Just being engulfed by you and having you dote on him will immediately wash away any and all bad thoughts.
. . . ☆ hobie brown
Hobie doesn't really get jealous. He's extremely secure in himself and the relationship. If you're the type of person who likes to flirt for fun or is just naturally flirty, he wouldn't even bat an eye at you coyly chatting with another person.
Hobie knows you only have eyes for him so he never gets defensive or jealous by your coquettish attitude with others. You know where home is and at the end of the day you always return. But that's only with flirting. If you tend to get touchy or make-out with other people then he would get annoyed and slightly agitated. Especially if you'd established there was something between you two.
He wouldn't particularly mind other people flirting with you unless someone was genuinely being creepy and overbearing. He wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable for any reason in any situation. So, seeing you nervously fiddle with your hands or curl into yourself when certain advances were made would enrage him to an extent. These are the times Hobie will take on a more defensive/protective role.
He doesn't get into many brawls (mainly because he doesn't have to) He's quite intimidating so when he tells someone to back down they're gonna back down, quickly and efficiently. If anyone had the balls to step to Hobie in a threatening way they'd def be met with more than they could handle.
But in most situations Hobie usually just plays along with the flirting. He knows you're a good piece of eye-candy so it's not surprising to him whenever you get hit on. His chest also can't help but swell in pride when you mention that you have a partner, who just so happens to be Hobie.
Imagine you're both at the pub. Sitting at the bar, and leaning into each other with lovesick smiles. The sweet exchange of teasing words was interrupted by the gruff voice of the bartender setting down an alcoholic drink you weren't really familiar with. "Compliments from the gentleman over there." he murmured, tilting his head towards a man who sat across the bar. Before you could even fully react Hobie grabbed the glass and downed it within seconds. "Cheers, mate." he responded with a smile while lifting the glass in the air.
You just grow to love and laugh at his antics.
. . . ☆ miguel o'hara
You'll know he's jealous. Miguel is very obvious when he's bothered by something, even when he tries to hide it.
His movements are more stiff than usual and if you're close enough you can hear him lowly spitting profanities in his native tongue. Not to mention when he gets jealous to the point he's genuinely angry his claws will shoot out. There are multiple claw marks on couches and different desks at the headquarters that have yet to be fixed.
He angry pouts but he doesn't really know it. Whenever you're having a conversation with someone and it's prolonged for a little too long or the person you're speaking to is showing some type of interest in you, Miguel will just tower over you from behind with crossed arms and an annoyed look. as he stares the person down.
You're the most important thing in Miguel's life. He's already lost so much in different lifetimes and a part of him feels like he should live his life alone, suffering without a family or a lover simply because he feels like he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you.
There will be times where he tries to push you away, a part of him feels like if he pushes you away enough and tries to emotionally disconnect from the relationship you leaving him won't hurt as much. You have to be patient and reassure him that you're not going anywhere. The only reason he does stuff like that is because a small part of him genuinely believes you'll leave him at some point.
He tends to be overbearing when he gets jealous. Pushing you behind him when someone starts to be a bit suggestive, staring down anyone who he thinks is getting too comfortable with you, and butting in convos to speak for you when he's close to going over the edge.
Miguel can be overprotective and extremely overbearing at times, but it's always because he has your best interest in mind. He needs you in his life and to keep you he will deflect any and all threats that try and take you away.
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A/N🪷: whenever i think of e-42 miles the killmonger music starts playing in my head lol
this was also a little rushed because i've been busy with work and im a little sleep-deprived, BUT i will come back with another fic soon <3 ty lovelies :)
likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33
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ltbunny · 3 months
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Talking to Simon in a bar, it's mostly just you talking at him and him nodding along, taking big swigs of his beer so he doesn't have to pull up his mask too often. Sitting side by side in the booth instead of across from each other, he says its cause you're too quiet but it's definitely so he can keep his arm wrapped around your waist, hands busy on your rolls, kneading them unnecessarily, stuck to your side, knees bumping each others while you nurse your drink and run the conversation,
"I've always wanted a snake, you know? I love snakes, they're so pretty and adorable,"
and ghost finally opens his mouth to contribute to the conversation
"Snakes are nice, what type do you want?"
"Hm, like.. I would love a big boy. My favourite is an emerald tree boa constrictor, but maybe start off with something smaller, maybe an albino,"
His arm slides up without warning, slinging it around your shoulder, pressing down, his fingers gripping your neck, squeezing. not harshly, but not lightly either. your eyes widen, and you look at him, a slight blush covering your cheeks, making a little shocked squeak,
"Wha-"
"This is how heavy it would be, a big python, heavier even. Bundled up around your shoulders, around your neck." He squeezes his fingers, the grin under his mask shown through his eyes, "You can take it right? A big guy, choking you out, wrapping around your pretty lil' neck."
"Come on, stop messi-"
"Of course you would be able to take it, you're a good girl, you'd take care of 'em... anyway, it wouldn't even be a good pet, cold-blooded piece of shit, but you'd still love it anyway, right? That's just how you are, love...
He let's go and chugs down his beer, his eyes still looking at you from the side, silent again for a while, while both of you try to collect your thoughts. You open your mouth to talk, but you're interrupted once again.
"Don't get a snake. You have me, how many more cold blooded shits do you need in your life, I can choke you out, contrict you, maybe not coil around you but i can leave you feeling helpless anytime you please, love."
He murmurs, his voice low, pressed up close to you, his balaclava ghosting your ear, his arm back around your waist, squeezing your thighs.
"...what about right now?"
"..."
He gets up and slams two 20 quid notes on the table and drags you out the bar, his grip tight. You two don't even make it home. He opts for the ginnel next to the bar. Half an hour after you left the bar you're pumped full of cum, your throat is sore and you're covered in hickeys. Over ghost or a snake, pretty sure you'll choose ghost every time.
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jobean12-blog · 1 month
Text
Boom Clap
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,063
Summary: Before tonight you wouldn't have been able to label your relationship with Bucky but after he gets home earlier than expected from a mission and shows up at the bar everything changes.
Author's Note: Just because, I love him and this look ends me every time and it's lightly based on this song Boom Clap by Charli XCX. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you 🥰
Warnings: it's just Bucky being irresistible and soft too
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“Well, something clearly more interesting than this conversation is going on in your mind. Would you like to share it with the rest of us?”
Two pairs of glittering eyes stare at you, twin knowing smiles gracing your friend’s lips and you frantically try to recall what the three of you had been discussing.
“There’s only one thing that can be giving her that look,” Nat laughs. “A man.”
“And not just any,” Wanda adds.
“Bucky,” both women say simultaneously and with devious grins.
You sip your drink to hide your smile.
“You must miss him since he’s been away on the mission all week,” Wanda muses.
You don’t say it but you do miss him. A lot.
“So what exactly is going on with you two?” Nat asks
With a nonchalant shrug you sip your drink again and try to figure out how to label your relationship with Bucky. Your friends wait, expressions expectant but playful.
If you had a definitive answer you would share it but ever since the two of you started hanging out neither of you had given it a label. You were just enjoying each other. In every way. You were happy being with him, that much of which you were sure.
“Umm…” you start.
That’s the only word you get out before you see Wanda and Nat’s drinks pause halfway to their mouths. Their eyes are trained on something just beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the bar.
Several other women at the bar pause their own conversation and you sense the shift in energy.
He’s here.
You place your drink down on the bar and turn. Bucky stands just inside the doorway, his black jacket draped over his broad shoulders and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.
Awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. Your pulse quickens and you fight the urge to run into his arms.
He wears all black, from his tight fitted shirt down to his leather boots and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair. When he walks toward you at the bar, he moves with such sensual purpose that you notice another woman swooning.
He looks hungry and determined.
And he’s here for you.
You reach out and grab your drink, downing it in one long sip.
Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, then your palm, then finally, your fingertips.
This time, you hear the breath woosh from Nat and Wanda but Bucky shows no reaction, appearing oblivious to anything else but you.
“Guess he’s back,” Nat whispers to Wanda. You barely catch the words as Bucky consumes your every thought.
“I missed you doll,” he whispers against your wrist.
“I missed you too,” you reply breathlessly.
He lowers your hand from his mouth and keeps hold of it between your bodies. With a soft tug he brings you closer, leaning into your neck and whispering along the shell of your ear.
“Come home with me?”
“You don’t even have to ask,” you murmur.
“Yes, I do doll. I would never take you for granted.”
Your free hand slides up his chest to his jaw, tracing the outline before you softly press your lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathes you in.
“I’m just going to use the restroom and say goodbye to Nat and Wanda. Meet you back here in five.”
“Hurry,” he murmurs, letting his eyes sparkle with words of unspoken want.
You rush off toward the bathroom, Nat and Wanda right behind you and after relieving yourself and filling your friends in you search for Bucky’s tall figure.
You find him standing at the bar, taking to someone. As you get closer, you see that the woman is standing close enough to brush against him. Unable to see Bucky’s face, you watch as she runs a hand along his arm with a gentle squeeze of his bicep, smiling at him flirtatiously.
Your heart drops into your stomach and you feel your eyes well with unshed tears but you can’t stop your forward movement. Bucky’s face comes into view. His eyes aren’t on the woman but furiously scanning the room. He looks uncomfortable, backing away from her and saying something you can’t hear.
You consider turning and running out but that wouldn’t be fair. You and Bucky have no official label, have never agreed to be exclusive. You can’t even blame the other woman for approaching him. He’s impossible to resist. You should know.
But then his eyes meet yours and you see all the emotions rushing through them, but mostly you see relief.
Taking a deep breath, you continue to walk forward. Bucky holds his arm out, his eyes begging you to walk into his embrace.
You slide into his side in time to hear him say, “here she is. This is my…”
“Girlfriend,” you finish, smiling and extending your hand with your name. “Nice to meet you.”
“Wow, lucky girl,” the woman says as she shakes your hand. “You deserve an award for landing a man like this.”
“I don’t need an award. I’ve got him,” you say as you reach down and take his left hand in yours.
Your eyes meet Bucky’s. “Ready to take me home Buck?”
“Always doll.”
Your hand stays tightly tucked in Bucky’s as you walk down the street toward his apartment. You turn toward him, the warm breeze caressing your skin and the city lights dancing in your eyes. His breath catches in his throat as your lips spread into a wide and reassuring smile.
He stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and pulls you flush against his chest, his eyes wandering over your face.
“Are you really mine?” he asks as he dips his head. “You’re really my girl?”
“Yours Bucky. I have been from the beginning.”
His fingers spread across your lower back and he slowly drags his hand along the curve of your spine, every inch he covers pressing you closer against him until he reaches your neck and traces the delicate column before cradling your cheek.
He sweeps his thumb along your skin and holds your lips just centimeters from his, whispering, “mine,” as his eyes close and his mouth captures yours.
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@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50
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amoreva · 3 months
Text
KISS THE GIRL
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—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
summary: two times luke knows he’s in love with you + one time he can’t hold it in anymore
warnings: pre tlt luke, ooc luke
a/n: percy jackson 🔛🔝 (request some fics for the characters), i think i ended this terribly, but i’ll fix it later at some point!
—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–
I. SCAR
“You are an idiot.”
That’s the first thing Luke hears when he wakes up in the Camp’s infirmary. He feels groggy, sluggish and slow and barely registered that you were in the room.
He faintly tasted his mother’s cooking. A small comfort for the consequences of failing his quest. His heart is filled with embarrassment and pity and dejection.
You snapped your fingers by his ears. “I know you’re awake. You hear me? You are an idiot!”
“If you’re here to make fun of me failing my quest, go away.” Luke groaned and turned on his side, despite the pain flaring in his abdomen.
"Luke." You said in a much softer tone. You were concerned about his injuries since he returned from the quest. "You know I wouldn't do that, not with something this serious.”
You helped him sit up in the infirmary bed and cup his cheek. He felt a gauze patch rather then your warm palm on his right cheek. “I’m saying you’re an idiot for not letting me come with you!”
“You can’t do everything by yourself.”
Love is fickle and strange thing. Luke and you promised that if either of you went on a quest, you’d bring each other. Yet, Luke couldn’t keep his promise.
He couldn’t see his girl—best friend, his best friend get hurt because of a stupid promise. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you went out he quest and got injured in some way, shape or form.
Even if you hadn’t gotten hurt, he might’ve— he would’ve gotten worse injuries from being distracted by your beauty. He could never tear his eyes from you whenever you entered the room.
In hindsight, it was a really bad way to go about things.
“I’m fine, aren’t I?” Luke responded and couldn’t hold himself back. He interlaced his fingers with yours, knowing you were still pissed when he didn’t choose you or anyone, for that matter, to join him on his quest to retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of Hesperides.
He resented his father and the gods for not caring for his wellbeing during the quest.
“Yes, but—” You protested.
At least you cared for his wellbeing. You caring about him was better than any god or goddess on Olympus.
His eyes softened. His mind screaming the words he was too scared to say to you out loud. “I love you.” He loved you for caring about his wellbeing. His safety.
“Yes, but nothing.” Luke retaliated and squeezed your hand to assure you. “I’m okay, I’m alive and have some cool ass scars now.”
Luke grinned as he was able to produce a laugh from you. Your laugh was like music to his ears. His own ambrosia in human form.
“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes playfully.
“Never.”
II. SPARRING
“Again.” Luke demanded as he pointed the celestial bronze sword at your throat. The sun beating down on the two of you as you trained. A past time as the days got boring.
“Fuck off.” You scoffed and laid back in the grass that laid beneath the pair’s feet. The grass tickling your arms and legs.
“C’mon! Up and at it. The momentum will wear off.” Luke helplessly convinced you to try and spar him again.
“Oh no, what ever will we do?” Sarcasm bled through your tone. You pushed yourself to sit up and leaned against the rack contained to celestial bronze swords.
Luke shook his head and grinned. He pushed back his chocolate curls to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He joined you on the grassy floor.
“Five minute break then.” Luke nodded.
“Ten minutes.” You negotiated and looked over at Luke. His scar was healing nicely, no infections—just a clean cut from his eye to his jaw. “You can’t expect to be up and at it after training with the greatest swordsman for an hour straight.”
Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was from the training. Luke’s cheeks became pink. He knew his siblings and other demigods talked about him being the “greatest swordsman”, but hearing it from you was different.
“You think I’m the greatest swordsman?” Luke said with a teasing grin.
“Not after I’m done with you.”
“Say that to the many times you hit the floor.”
“I was going easy on you!”
Luke and you burst out in laughter at your banter, unable to keep a serious conversation. He thought your laughter could brighten up the Underworld. Hades would even agree.
Again, those three words would cross his mind. “I love you.” He loved bantering with you back and forth. How dare he try to ruin the moment with his romantic phrases.
“C’mon!” You huffed and pushed yourself to stand up. You were obliviously to the admiration in his eyes. The celestial bronze sword gripped loosely in your hand.
“What happened to the ten minutes?” Luke titled his head up only slightly to look at you. A stupid grin on his face. He stood up to get in position
“I can train when I damn want too.”
“Don’t start complaining about being tired then.”
He never tore his eyes away from yours as you thrusted the blade at his torso.
III. STARS
Luke had no idea where the line between lover and friendship was crossed. He had absolutely no idea when he started to see you more as a crush rather than his best friend.
Though he did notice his stomach started to twist and turn every time he saw you. He noticed his heart raced a little faster every time he heard your laugh.
Luke found himself gravitating towards you during dinner, training, capture the flag—like a moth to burning flame. Would he find himself getting burned for pursuing you?
“Hey.”
Luke spoke as the wooden dock creaked beneath his feet. You were sitting on the edge of the dock. The night sky lit up with tiny bright lights. You gave him a smile (one that could melt his heart) and patted the space next to you.
“You doing okay?” Luke asked and sat next to you. His leg touching yours. The lake rippled. The moonlight shining down on it.
“I just—needed a break.” You reassure Luke. “From gods, goddesses, prophecies, quests…all of it.”
The chirps and cheeps of the birds and animals filled the silence. A background noise. Luke felt your head lean against his shoulder. His heart beat quicker. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Comfort, he convinced himself.
“You can’t really escape being a half-blood.” Luke consulted and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You hummed in agreement.
You were quite glad Luke joined you. These nights on the dock, after dinner, were getting lonely. The silence is comfortable save for the wildlife in the forest.
Faintly, ever so faintly, you heard Luke speak three words. Three words you would never hear from him.
“I love you…”
Gods.
He didn’t even realize it. His lips were making the consonants and vowel sounds. Luke didn’t know until you picked up your head from his shoulder. Your eyes wide with shock and what he had hoped was…relief.
“What…?” You mumbled.
Did he just ruin his friendship with you? Did he just lose his best friend because he said his thoughts out loud? Luke thought he had better control over that.
“What?” He responded and let his arm fall from your shoulders.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Luke.”
His breath hitched. He felt lovesick. Like Aphrodite personally made his body malfunction during this moment. “I…”
“I love you…” Luke avoided your gaze like he was ashamed to have a crush on you.
How did you feel? Would you reject him in a heart beat? Would you ridicule him? Thoughts swam his mind.
Before he could get too into his head, he felt a soft pair of lips pressed against his. Your eyes closed and he willed himself to close his eyes as well. Melting, melting into your touch, your lips.
When you pulled away, his eyes opened. He was graced with the sight of you in the moonlight. “What?” He spoke breathlessly.
“What?” You responded slightly confused and scared you made the moment uncomfortable.
“You…” Luke paused and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate the words. To form a coherent thought. He just…he wanted that to never end. He finally got what he yearned for (and he wasn’t rejected?). He got you.
“Is this real?” Luke asked and you laughed. His stomach churned with butterflies.
“Yes!” You answered and interlaced your fingers with his.
“May I?”
“You’d be a pretty bad demigod if you didn’t.”
And once again, Luke got the kiss the girl. He got the kiss the girl he been pining over for gods know how long.
—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–
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foxy-eva · 8 months
Text
Stress Relief
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Summary: When Reader complains about back pain, Spencer offers a massage. Things escalate. 
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Smut 
Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a little bit of awkwardness, massages, implied hand kink, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex
Word Count: 3k
Masterlist
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It wasn't the first time your team had to double up in a hotel while working on a case but you had never ended up being paired with your favorite coworker before. When you stepped into the room after a long day of trying to save lives, you suddenly realized something. 
Spencer was right behind you when he saw it too, mumbling an almost inaudible, "Oh."
Oh. 
There was only one bed. 
The receptionist had already let you know that they were completely overbooked, so switching to a different room was no option. 
Spencer was quick to offer solutions as he started rambling, "I know Morgan said he wouldn't share a room with me but maybe he'll change his mind if I explain this to him?" 
"Don't you think it's more likely he'll tease us? Besides, that would leave me with Hotch and I'd rather share a bed with you than with my boss."
Spencer shrugged and mumbled, "I always liked to double up with Emily. I wonder why she insisted on sharing a room with JJ." 
You looked at him with raised eyebrows and a smirk on your face. "Yeah, who knows!" 
You did know but Spencer was as oblivious as ever. If he was really that bad at seeing what was right in front of him, there was at least a chance that he hadn't yet caught onto your feelings for him either. You really hoped that tonight any improper thoughts you had would be drowned out by the exhaustion slowly taking over your body.
"I can sleep on the floor," Spencer voiced his final offer. 
You shook your head in protest. "The bed is big enough for the both of us."
With that it was settled, you were going to share a bed with the man who had been occupying your mind an almost embarrassing amount. Spencer, however, had never once shown any signs that he reciprocated your growing feelings for him. So instead of addressing them, you decided to simply suffer in silence until they'd pass.
When he stepped into the bathroom to get ready for the night, you couldn't stop your mind from racing to fantasies far from being appropriate. It didn't help to hear him turning on the shower because now all you could think about was tearing your own clothes off to join him. Somehow you managed to keep your composure - for now at least. 
Spencer looked absolutely adorable with his washed-out Caltech shirt and checkered pajama pants, so much so that you took several seconds to blatantly stare at him when he came back into the room. It caused him to look down at his body to make sure that everything was in place. 
“Sorry, you just look really… cute like that,” you muttered to help with his confused look. 
A slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks at your compliment and he looked at you as if he wasn’t quite sure if you were making fun of him. But of course your words were genuine. 
As you gathered your things to go take a shower yourself, you snickered, “It’s a shame that outfit probably wouldn’t pass the FBI dress code.” 
He took a book out of his bag and sat down on one side of the bed, chuckling, “Yeah, it definitely would not pass.”
The shower helped clear your mind and you were positive that you’d be able to go to sleep without any other distractions. As you approached the bed in your usual nightwear - a tanktop and some colorful shorts - it became obvious that Spencer was even worse at hiding his staring than you were. 
“It’s weird, right?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. “Seeing each other in casual clothes, I mean.”
Without saying a word he just nodded before focussing back on his book again. As you leaned against the headboard of the bed you noticed something that had been bothering you all day. Your back was aching and your shoulders were painfully tense. You stretched your arms over your shoulders before you reached back to massage some tender spots on your neck. 
“You okay?” Spencer asked as he turned his head to watch you. 
“Yeah, it’s just my back pain. I slept weird last night and I have been sitting at my desk too much those past few days,” you explained. 
To your surprise, he offered, “Maybe I could help?”
Before you could consider what feeling his hands against your body would do to you, you replied, “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.” 
You readjusted your position until you sat cross-legged on the bed with your back facing your roommate for the night. Spencer set aside his book and sat behind you, tentatively putting his palms on your shoulders. The heat his body radiated entered your body and lit a spark inside you that you desperately tried to ignore. 
When he began pressing his fingertips into the tense muscles of your shoulders and neck, you instantly became pliable under his touch. The places he touched were innocent but that didn’t change the fact that a familiar warmth spread through your body and collected in your center. 
There was no way to hold back the shy moan from falling from your lips when he found a particularly tender spot. 
He halted his motions to ask, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, it just feels really good,” you breathed. 
“That’s nice to hear,” he cooed in the softest tone you’d ever heard from him. “You deserve to feel good.” 
Those last couple of words echoed in your mind before you could grasp what they meant. It was that moment that you asked yourself if the innocent and shy Spencer Reid was trying to flirt with you. 
To distract yourself, you decided to talk to him - unaware what colossal mistake that was going to be.
“So, where did you learn how to give back rubs?” 
Nonchalantly as ever, he responded, “I read a book about it a few years ago.” 
“You read a book about massages?”
The breath he let out at your question tickled the skin of your shoulders and you broke out in goosebumps. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice. 
“Well, it was about tantric practices and there was a very interesting chapter about… uhm… full-body massages,” he explained, not helping with your current situation at all. 
It was getting almost impossible for you to form coherent sentences, even more so when Spencer continued talking. 
“Are you interested in that?”
Almost jumping at his words, you blurted out, “In getting a full-body massage?!” 
“No!” Spencer laughed. “In reading the book!” 
Before you could respond, you felt his hands wander down your back, lightly rubbing over your shirt. It was getting harder to focus with every second passing, too overwhelming became the need to feel more of him. 
“I’ll think about it,” you finally responded. 
Spencer’s fingertips brushed over your lower back, way too lightly to find any tight spots and you were wondering if he was trying to tease you at this point. 
His words brought you back to reality. “I can continue with my massage if you want but uhm.. your shirt is getting in the way.”
Without thinking about it, you stated, “I’m not wearing a bra.”
“I know,” Spencer chuckled. “I won’t look, I promise. Just lay down on your stomach.” 
The feeling of his hands on your body had left your skin tingling and you were yearning to feel it again. So without questioning his intentions or making sure his eyes were really closed, you took off your top and lay down on the mattress. Spencer kneeled beside you and began working his skilled fingers over your entire back. 
Any tightness from tired muscles slowly left your body but you felt another kind of tension growing in your core. When Spencer grazed the waistband of your shorts with his fingertips, a sigh escaped your throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he kept massaging you until there was no patch of skin on your back left unattended to. 
The second time he brushed over your waistband gave away that he was doing it on purpose. For a moment you thought that he might slip his hands right beneath it to descend further down your body. That thought caused you to unwillingly press your thighs tightly together to soothe the aching between your legs. 
Spencer must have noticed it, too, because he audibly let out a breath right at that moment. His hands were still on your back when a quiet moan left your mouth and you noticed that your hips had started moving ever so slightly, desperate to find some friction. You weren’t sure if Spencer had been watching you doing that until you halted those tiny motions. 
“Don’t stop,” he purred. “You look so pretty like this.” 
You turned your head enough to see him from the corners of your eyes. The hardness straining against his pajama pants was impossible to ignore but even more intriguing was the smirk spread over his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark and filled with lust. Seeing him like this suddenly let any restraint you had left vanish. 
“Please, Spencer,” you begged him to keep going. 
One of his hands found the side of your face to brush a strand of hair aside. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your heated cheek before he whispered, “Tell me exactly what you want.” 
Spencer’s hands were all you could think about. Every fiber of your body was longing for him and you felt like you might combust if he didn’t grant you relief anytime soon. 
“Please continue and… go lower.” 
In an instant his hands were on your backside, greedily grabbing your soft flesh through your shorts. 
“Like that?” Spencer groaned. 
You tilted your hips to press your butt against his hands and slowly opened your thighs before you whimpered, “Lower.”
As his fingertips wandered over your thighs you felt how your arousal began soaking through the fabric of your panties. His hands dared to move underneath your shorts, grazing along the apex of your thigh. It was not enough to soothe your aching but enough to drive you wild. 
You moaned out his name before whining, “Take them off, please.” 
“You’re so cute when you get all desperate,” he chuckled in response. 
There was no more teasing then. When he finally grabbed the waistband of your shorts, you immediately lifted your hips so he could pull them down together with your panties. He reached between your thighs to finally touch you where you were burning for him. 
The realization of how aroused you were let a groan escape his mouth. His fingertips glided through your folds before focussing on your most sensitive spot while he purred, "You're so fucking wet." 
It was the first time you had ever heard him use a curse word, the sound of such crude language shooting through you like lightning. All your senses were on edge, you couldn't think about anything else but him. 
The sensation of his fingers moving over your sensitive pearl was somehow too much and not enough at the same time. You hadn't realized that you were grinding your hips against his hand until his words brought you back to reality for a moment. 
"You deserve to feel so, so good. Let me take care of you."
At that you point you weren't even sure what you were begging for when an almost silent "Please," made it past your lips. Spencer, however, seemed to understand. He let two of his digits enter you, finding no resistance from your body. As soon as you felt him inside you, you couldn't help but clench around him.
Slowly he began working his fingers against tight muscles at an angle that made you almost lose your mind. There was no more holding back the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips, so you buried your face into the pillow to muffle your moans. 
You felt Spencer's free hand brushing over your hair while he whispered, "Don't hide those sounds from me. I want to hear you."
With that you turned your head to the side again, just enough to be able to see his beautiful face. His smile was too much for you to handle, so you decided to close your eyes instead. 
The room filled with your moans and mewls and the sound of his hand relentlessly moving against your wet center. Within just a few minutes you were dancing along the edge of euphoria. Spencer noticed that, too.
"You're doing so good," he praised you. "Let go for me, sweet girl." 
You felt him moving over your swollen nub one more time before your body began to tremble beneath him. He helped you ride out your high with a few more skillful motions before he lay down right beside you. 
When he found your eyes, he whispered, "You okay?" 
Instead of answering him, you grabbed his wrist to bring his fingers to your lips. They were still coated with your essence when you took them in your mouth to suck them clean. Spencer stared at you in disbelief, almost as if he was witnessing some kind of miracle. 
You could still taste yourself on your tongue when you found his lips in a hungry kiss. He didn't waste any time to reciprocate your enthusiasm, his tongue meeting yours as the two of you melted into one another. There was no space allowed between the two of you, with your chest pressed hard enough against his you could feel his accelerated heartbeat. 
His palms began wandering over your exposed skin as if he'd never have enough of touching you. Your hand became curious as well, moving underneath the hem of his shirt to finally feel him without any barrier. It wasn't enough though, you needed all of him.
With joined forces you rid him of his clothes and took a moment to take in the beauty of the man in front of you. As your eyes locked once more you found the sweetest smile spread over his face. 
"You're so pretty," you breathed before kissing him again. 
"And you're so beautiful," he mumbled against your lips. 
His hardness was pressed firmly against your thigh and you could already feel the tip leaking onto your skin. A sneaky hand found its way between your bodies to touch him. Your fingertips found soft curls at the base of him before wrapping around his shaft. He felt hot and heavy in your palm and you noticed him twitching when you began moving your hand. 
Spencer gasped into your mouth once you reached his tip and his whole body quivered when you let your thumb swipe over it. Your kiss was interrupted by him panting against your face as you sped up your motions. 
"Look at who is getting desperate now," you teased him. 
He already seemed lost in the pleasure when he whimpered, "Feels so good."
Your hand left his erection to push against his shoulder until he was lying on his back while you snickered, "You know what would feel even better?"
As you began straddling his hips, Spencer's hands flew to your waist. 
He still needed reassurance before he let you continue. "Are you sure about this?" 
You nodded and promised, “I want you Spencer.” 
"I want you, too. More than you can imagine."
With your hand around his cock you lifted your hips to guide him to your entrance. As you sank down on him, Spencer moaned out your name. You took your time, relishing the sensation of him slowly stretching you open. Once he was fully inside, you could feel his heartbeat deep within you. 
As you began grinding your hips against him, his hands moved from your waist to your breasts to caress your soft curves. 
“You have no idea how long I have wanted you,” Spencer sighed.
You leaned down to find him in a kiss before you whispered against his mouth, "You have me now. I'm yours."
His hips began moving in perfect synchronicity with yours as you chased the sweet relief together. When you began moving faster, Spencer suddenly gripped your hips to halt your motions. 
"I'm so close. Slow down," he whined with desperation clearly audible in his voice. 
That didn't slow you down, though. Instead you purred, "Me, too," and kept going. Spencer threw his head back into the pillows and sang your praise in the form of his moans. You tried to hold on just a little bit longer, not to torture him but because you didn't want it to end yet.
When one of his hands descended from your hip to where your bodies were joined, you knew that it wouldn't be long now. He began drawing small circles with his thumb around your little bud, throwing you over the edge within a few seconds. Once he felt your walls pulsing around him, he let go himself. 
Each of your twitches was answered by him throbbing inside you, sharing his essence with you until he had nothing left to give. Spencer welcomed you inside his arms as you collapsed on top of him with a racing heart and lungs longing for air. 
You stayed connected for as long as physically possible but once he was soft, you felt him slowly slipping out of you together with the mixed evidence of your shared desire. Spencer insisted on helping you clean up the mess between your legs and was quick to get a damp towel from the bathroom.
Watching him carefully rid you of any remaining stickiness somehow felt even more intimate than anything you had done before. Neither of you bothered to put clothes back on, instead you cuddled up under the comforter together to savor the sensation of having each other near.
When you thought back to what led you into Spencer's arms earlier tonight, you couldn't hold back your giggles. 
"Maybe I should read that book you mentioned." 
"You can, if you want," Spencer chuckled before he began kissing along your neck. When he found your ear, he whispered, "I'd much rather show you everything it says, though."
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feyascorner · 4 months
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Hear me out guys—Astarion and non-sexual physical intimacy in baths.
The way he would love washing the dirt off Tav/Reader after a really long day out adventuring? He would just drag you to the bath, complaining about how you stink or whatever as an excuse to dump you into the water. Sometimes he doesn't even bother taking your shirt off, he just chucks you in.
And you’re both technically undressed but at the same time it’s nothing sexual it’s genuinely just soft idiots trying to wash each other’s hair.
The way you could probably spike his hair all over the place with soap and he’d just sigh and roll his eyes before splashing water in your face.
And he'd talk through what he does to his own hair to keep it soft while massaging the same process into your own.
He’d probably prefer to hold your back to his chest in the beginning, so he can lean his head backward or rest his chin in the crook of your neck. But if you asked, he wouldn't complain about it being the other way around either.
He's never experienced being so close to someone else without it leading to sex, and he’s surprised to find that he absolutely loves it. Like it’s his favorite part of the day. When you two get to your room he's just standing next to the bathroom ready to pounce.
It helps him heal his relationship with physical intimacy too. Being able to just rush his hands across your skin with no expectations for something else puts him at ease, and it lets the two of you grow closer because you’re always telling each other what you're feeling or about your day while you bathe.
More importantly I also think he’s naturally very cold (being undead and all) so I think he puts the bath at an ungodly high temperature and you literally feel like you're getting cooked alive unless your arm is touching his or he’s holding you.
I will be thinking about this for a while goodnight 🙏😊
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norrizzandpia · 9 months
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The Infamous Stream (LN4)
Summary: When Max streams and the chat goes wild for Lando and Y/n’s sappy love
Warnings: really nothing yall have at it (except for like one minor insinuation to sex? But its literally like two words tbh)
"Don't mind Y/n and Lando behind me. They fell asleep on my bed after being here for an hour." Max's voice cut through Y/n's unconscious state. Slowly, her mind noted Lando's chest against her forehead and his arms wrapped securely around her. His chest rose and fell at a slow pace and his lips rested right at the top of her head, slightly kissing her hair. If it wasn't for his hands refusing to let her go and the warmth that radiated off his body, Y/n would have gotten up and out of her sleeping position once her brain comprehended that Max wasn't speaking to himself, but to his chat on his stream. With his hoodie engulfing her body, she snuggled further into her boyfriend and tightened her arms around his neck.
"When they wake up, I'm going to tell them about all of you in here going crazy for boyfriend Lando." Max's booming laugh seemed to wake the boy in Y/n's arms as his arms around her tightened and the pressure of his lips against her head lessened.
Seeming to think she was still asleep, Lando whispered, "Quiet down, Max. You're gonna wake her up."
From her position against his chest, Y/n groggily murmured, "No, I'm awake."
Lando's hand came up to cradle the back of her head as she moved to look up at him, "How did we even fall asleep?" Her eyebrows furrowed together and Lando smiled down at her, finding her adorable moments after she had woken up from a nap.
Max chuckled, "Maybe because my bed is so comfortable."
Lando's eyes met Max's over Y/n's head, watching as the chat absolutely blew up over the couple, "No way, Y/n's bed is way more comfortable. She has one of those memory foam mattresses and everything."
"And how would you know that?" Max wiggled his eyebrows at the couple as Y/n blushed and stuffed her face back into Lando's chest.
Lando groaned as his head pulled back, "You wanker."
Finally, Y/n decided it was time to end the cuddling session that was being broadcast to thousands, so she pulled away from her boyfriend and hopped off the bed. However, she couldn't escape from the room quick enough seeing as Max ushered her and Lando over.
"Come on, you guys have got to see these comments." With Lando getting up from the bed and Max's hand hastily waving her face, Y/n took a closer look at the words rapidly appearing on the screen.
Lando_norizz
There is no way I just witnessed that sweet moment for free.
F1-loveeee
CAN WE PLZ TALK ABOUT THE PLACEMENT OF LANDOS HANDS??? IM SCREAMING
emma.loves.racing.
They're so priv abt their relationship i feel like i just watched something so intimate
landoismysoulmate
I have never in my life been so incredibly devastated to see two people be so happy and in love
Other comments continued to come in, but Y/n could only read a few. Each of them made her smile as fans talked about how happy Lando looked to be with her. The couple had decided early on that they would keep the majority of their time together private and to themselves, so Y/n could gather that the lovey-dovey moment everyone just witnessed was something entirely foreign. She wouldn't mention that Lando was an incredibly clingy boyfriend who always wanted to be near her or touching her whenever they were in close vicinity to one another and she definitely wouldn't mention that usually their cuddling sessions turned not-so-innocent after an hour or two. All she could do was smile up at the man who was already staring at her like she hung the stars and the moon just for him.
All of a sudden, Lando was hysterically laughing beside her as he pointed to a comment that was quickly disappearing behind all the other chats being sent in. Luckily, she was able to read the words before they were lost and when she did, she couldn't help but join her boyfriend in his hysterics.
Landohasnorizz
Lando heard the nickname lando norizz and said hold my beer
It was a sweet comment and Y/n was grateful the two weren't being bombarded by hateful remarks like some of the other drivers on the grid had to go through when they went public. One of the reasons why Lando had been so hesitant to announce her identity to the rest of the F1 world was because of all the potential hate she could get. However, after years together they realized they couldn't just keep it all a secret when they were likely to get married and live out the rest of their days together.
As if to cut through her overwhelming thoughts, Lando's hand came to rest around her waist as he smiled down at her and said, "I have no rizz. I really don't know how I got so lucky."
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buckyalpine · 9 months
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Cheating Steve x reader, Steve x Sharon, Bucky x reader
How Bucky and reader get together
Warnings: angst, cheating, smut, Steve regrets his choices, Bucky is the sweetest, fluffff
-
Steve knew.
Not that it was surprising at this point.
What more could he expect after you walked in on him and Sharon months ago. It was never supposed to happen but he gave into the heat of the moment. He didn't have the excuse of being drunk or drugged. He was stone cold sober. No stressful mission increasing his stress.
Maybe you agreed to try and work things out but he knew from the heartbreak in your eyes and their void of warmth, the hurt was too deep.
And yet still.
He didn’t realize just how badly that hurt would be until he experienced it himself. He didn't even see it but could hear it and damn his enhanced hearing, he could hear every detail.
There was no loud banging.
No over the top, obnoxious moaning.
No spews of filthy words exchanged.
Which is why this hurt so much more.
Because it was real.
This wasn't about revenge or getting back at him for what he'd done to you. They had no idea Steve would be back so early. They had no idea he'd be standing outside, hearing everything. Steve stood outside of Bucky's bedroom, the flowers he held in his hand crushed, staying rooted in place, nostrils flared, eyes squeezed shut.
Bucky was making the softest sweetest most tender love to you and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He could hear the faint creak of the bed.
Your soft whines and whimpers.
Bucky's low moans and heavy breaths.
He was taking all his time in the world to touch you gently, making you feel good while also giving you all the pleasure he possibly could.
“You’re so pretty doll” It was just a whisper, but Steve heard it. He hated the mental images that came up in his mind each time you moaned a bit louder or the sounds of wet skin carried through the door. "My pretty girl"
Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't see. Because if he did, Steve would've seen the way Bucky's hand stroked your hair softly with each thrust. The way he looked at you with nothing but love. His lips kissing every bit of your face, nuzzling himself into your neck while his hands pinned you under him.
Steve would've seen the debauched mess on the sheets, messy and sticky with your mixed arousal that had been leaking out of you, the both of you unable to keep your hands off each other. He would've seen your legs tightly wrapped around his best friends waist while his cock stretched you open, his much larger body shielding you.
Steve wouldn't have been able to handle the way your eyes were glassy, tears slipping down your cheeks from how good it felt, both emotionally and physically. He would've hated seeing how blissed out you looked, eyes unable to focus, jaw slack each time Bucky pushed himself deeper, grinding his hips into you. You couldn't possibly be any closer and it still felt like it wasn't enough.
Steve would've lost his mind, seeing the way your both desperately clung onto each other, meeting each others thrusts, Bucky's thick arms moving from your hands to wrap around your body instead. He held onto you tightly, his pace faltering and Steve knew. He could hear the increase in breaths, the stutter of his movements making the bed creak irregularly, fuck he didn't want to hear this shit anymore but he couldn't move.
"I'm gonna cum baby"
Fuck.
"Cum in me Bucky"
No. He wouldn't.
It wasn't like he could stop it. Steve gritted his teeth hearing your muffled moans, it should've been him. It should've been you in his room, him making love to you, him making you feel good, him filling you up till you dripped onto his sheets, him desperately moaning and feeling good with you.
"M'gonna cum, m'cumming for you doll, hnngg" God, his best friend sounded so desperate and broken but Bucky would never, he wouldn't, he couldn't, he- "Fuckkk y/n, feels so good, cumming so much for you. Take it all, sweet girl"
Fuck.
He wouldn't have handled seeing the way Bucky's muscles tensed, burying his face into your neck, your teeth digging into his shoulder while he rutted into you, cock swelling and throbbing ropes of cum into you while you convulsed around him.
FUCK.
“I love you my doll”
No. She's not fucking yours.
God how he wished it was one sided, that you’d just moan in response. That you were just using Bucky as a rebound with no actual feelings. Steve knew you didn’t say those words in vain, you wouldn’t say it back, not unless-
“I love you too James”
Steve was going to burst through the door until a voice chirped behind him, tapping his shoulder, pulling him from his spiral.
"Those for me?" Sharon blushed, pointing to the now half destroyed roses Steve held, pulling his shoulder away from her.
"No" Steve's jaw clenched, shoving her touch away, his irritation growing when Sharon followed him down the hall.
"Don't tell me you're still thinking about that stupid bi-"
"DON'T" Steve turned back and glared at her, clenching his fists before he did something stupid, "Just- don't"
"All high and mighty now, are we?" Sharon spat while he shook his head, wishing she'd leave. "Y'know they've been sleeping together behind your back the entire time you were gone away for the mission. And you're still hung up on her? Now she's the one cheating on you"
Cheating. Was it cheating? He was never able to mend your heart after he broke it. He tried. He tried so hard.
"Doesn't matter" Steve replied while Sharon huffed, daring to follow him into his room.
"We only hooked up once. She's been fucking you're best friend ever since and you still want her back?"
"I fucked up first Sharon" Steve gritted but the blonde rolled her eyes in response. "It was my mistake that led to this"
"Mistake" She shook her head in disbelief, biting her bottom lip staring at the broken Captain in front of her, "So what we did was just a mistake?"
"Worst one I've ever made" Steve nodded, not bothering to look back when Sharon stormed off, the sound of Bucky's bedroom door opening making his ears perk up. He threw the flowers he brought for you to the side while he heard your soft footsteps approaching, his stomach churning when you appeared at his door.
You blinked, surprised at the sight of Steve sitting at the edge of his bed, a crushed bouquet of flowers sitting on the dresser while he was still in his tac uniform. Your heart was pounding, he wasn't supposed to be back until next week.
"You're back early" You kept your voice steady, hoping he wouldn't notice anything askew.
But you knew. There was no way he didn't hear. Even if he didn't, your hair was tousled, skin warm, you smelled of sex, smelled of Bucky. There was no hiding it; the Captain looking up at you with watery eyes, the tears threatening to slip they landed on your disheveled form..
"Does he make you happy?"
You swallowed before nodding, while Steve gave you a tight lipped smile in return. He didn't say anything else, a silent way of him letting you go, hanging his head when you turned back around, going back to the one who now had your heart.
He wished he had it in him to feel happy for you both. You deserved happiness and Bucky would've never done what he did. He closed his eyes at the sound of your happy giggles and squeals of laughter, Bucky's following right after before the door shut again, leaving Steve alone in his room.
He'd better get used to it.
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lovifie · 2 months
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Simon Riley whose favourite hair was always yours.
The first time he touched your hair, you were both deployed. You were walking before him, your hair in a braid behind your head that was almost hypnotizing. You stick your head from behind a wall, and Simon pulls your braid the moment he hears gunshots to keep you away from the fire line. A whine escapes your lips that sounds almost like a kicked dog and you quickly look back to him. "Thank you, Lt." You mutter.
And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.
Your hair doesn't glow in the dark, yet it always draws his attention. Like a lifesaver floating in an ocean. He quickly learns that he can't wait to touch it again, so he observes and waits for a chance to do so.
Like when you were rewriting a report on the mess hall, Price told you it was illegible and taking in consideration Price's handwriting you took it to heart. So there you were, writing again the pages with your best handwriting.
A lock of hair in the middle of your face had Simon almost sprinting to you to move it out of your face before you could it yourself. Of course he didn't say anything romantic, instead he said: "You are gonna go blind like that, and you are supposed to watch my back out there."
It wasn't romantic on its own, but his hand remained caressing the hair now behind your ear and when you looked up to meet his gaze, the both of you pulled away from each other as if you had been hit. "That line is dropping, start it again." He comments. "Yes, Lt."
On another occasion, you got late to practice, overslept. Obviously by your bed hair, not even time to brush it. Price quickly told you to fix it and Simon seriously considered if the insubordination would be worth it, because he would rip both his arms off if he could wake up everyday with that sight.
It was at that point that Simon realized he was doomed, because he had not been slowly pulled to you, he fell face first and being honest to himself, he was happy with it. He wouldn't admit it yet, it was easier to believe he only liked your hair.
And as time went on, it became more and more easy to find excuses to touch it.
Like when you got sick that one time, waking in the middle of the night to empty your stomach on the toilet. And it went on until the morning, when he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, too weak to walk back to your room.
Face wet with tears for not being able to stop throwing up, for being tired and for feeling useless. He quickly crouched down, paper towel in hand to clean your face. "Why are you here?" He softly asked, mask hiding his expression but his eyes gave away his emotions.
"I got sick." You mumbled, voice hoarse with the strain of the night.
"That I can tell, love." The nickname caught the both of you by surprise, but neither complained. "Let's get you to bed."
You nod, grabbing his hand to stand up, before another round of nausea hit forcing you to back down to throw up again. He quickly moved your hair out of the way grabbing it at the back of your head. "You are gonna get sick, Ghost. Leave me alone, I'm fine."
"Number one, I'm pretty sure your dinner from last night it's on my hand, so I believe we are past nicknames now." He says, being interrupted before being able to say the second thing.
"Don't touch my hair with puke on your hand!" You say grabbing his wrist, making him chuckle. You barely had energy to pull your head up and still tried to fight him.
"I would never, love. That's the other hand." He said looking as you wiped your mouth, breath getting knock out of him when you lock your gaze on his. "What is it?" You asked, confusing him. "Your name."
"Simon."
"Simon?"
"Simon Riley."
A beat of silence simmered on the bathroom for a second.
"That's a surprisingly sweet name, Simon."
And if the world had ended at that moment, Simon would have died a happy man.
But he didn't, instead he eased his way into your heart.
It wasn't hard, and soon enough Simon didn't need excuses to touch your hair. And touching your hair was the excuse to get you closer to him.
Like when he was dying to kiss your lips, but you wouldn't look up to him. Why wouldn't you look at him? Couldn't you tell it was killing him? So he fisted your hair, pulling back slightly; enough to make you look up but not enough to sting. And when his eyes met yours, he dived right into your lips. Moving his hands to cup your face instead of hair, needing to feel the warmth of your skin. The kiss pulling the air from his lung but still making him feel more alive than ever.
Or like when you finally had the time and intimacy to make love. And when he had you on his bed, knees apart and face buried on his pillow, he fisted your hair again, pulling your head back, because he needed to hear you moan his name while he filled you to the brim. Simon Riley was not a saint, but he would go through the hell his life has been again if it meant he got to experience this. Your cunt milking his dick, your smaller hand grabbing the wrist of his hand on your hip, your moans filling the room and when you looked back to him over your shoulder, his life got meaning and he kissed your lips.
Or like when you would cuddle, and he would do tiny braids on your hair he would forget to undo or tell you about and you would find out hours later when you would try to brush your hair and end up with massive knots. Walking to him ready to throw the brush at his head and you would find him hugging your pillow on his sleep, completely relax and content with himself.
Or like when years later, he brushed the hair sticking to your forehead by the sweat while you pushed his daughter to life. If he could take the pain away he would, but he knew you were the strongest woman in this world and could do it. He also knew you needed his comfort, so he moved his hand from your hair to grab your hand even if you crushed every bone inside.
Your hair was always his favourite, until your daughter was born. Because she had Simon's eyes, but she had your hair. And your hair was beautiful, but his little girl's hair was the proof of the love between Simon and you.
Simon Riley loved your hair, but he loved you more.
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Masterlist
Hii🩷
Accept this as an apology for the pain from Inmortal!Simon, hope that you guys like it ♥️♥️
Also I barely proof read it, so if there are any misspelled words, no there isn't ♥️🫡
If there is anything that you would like me to write my inbox is always open for request and asks ♥️
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