#[Drabble]

[batsybat91]

"No, no, no, you have to believe me!!" Soap argues with Gaz. "He has a little fiancée who lives in a cottage with him! She planted flowers in his walkway! And she scolded him for crushing them when he was piss drunk!"

"Ghost doesn't even like flowers," Gaz sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this is the hundredth time he's heard this. Maybe it is, knowing Soap. "Not unless they're dead, I reckon."

"I swear it on me mum and me sisters!" Soap exclaims, raising his right hand as if swearing on the Bible. "She had a little bookcase under her telly, and embroidered throw pillows on the couches! With blankets softer than anythin' I have ever seen!"

"Enough!" Price grumbles, sitting up from his chair like a father who has heard enough bloody arguing. "Soap, stop making up stories. Gaz, stop instigating shit."

"No, no! Cap, you gotta believe me!" Soap begs. "She answered the door in a pink slip gown! She had paintings of flowers on her walls! With butterflies!"

"Oh, aye, and d'ya suppose she had curlers in her hair?" Price snorts. "I've been to Ghost's house, Soap. It has movie posters, pinup girls, and ashtrays. Nothing like what you're saying."

"How long ago was that?!" Soap exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

"I'd say about two years ago," hums Price, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

Just then, Ghost walks into Price's office, where the boys had been idly chatting. Price offers him a cigarette, which Ghost refuses. "My lady asked me to stop smokin'," he grunts. "Started chewin' gum instead."

"Oh, right." Gaz tosses a crumpled sticky note at Ghost. "You and Soap are trying to play a prank on us, innit?"

"It's real!" Soap shouts, exasperated.

"What's real?" Ghost crosses his arms.

"The woman at your house! In the pink nightie with the pretty eyes and the flowers!" Soap points at him with an accusing finger. "Your fiancée."

Ghost just shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. Price and Gaz are still looking at Soap like he needs to be locked up in an asylum.

"Johnny, I'm going to ask this gently," Gaz begins. "Are you bloody mental?! Makin' up a story like this?"

"It's not!" Soap whines. "She's real! She told me I could check on him the next morning after he got shite-faced at the bar!"

"She give you a kiss on the cheek too?" Gaz mock-pouts at Soap.

"She better not have," Ghost growls.

All three heads turn to look at him in unison, the argument falling silent. "What?" Price and Gaz ask while Soap leaps out of his chair.

"I fucking-! I fucking told you so!" he stammers. "Tell 'em, Ghost!"

Ghost shakes his head. "Keepin' her safe, Johnny. Not that you'd understand that."

Part I

Tags: @xylov, @just-lilita

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Heyy same anon from the kpop demon hunters question! Gonna try and not spoil the movie for my request lol, I loved the movie and its message and Ik Jinu wanted to be free but GOD I want him back so I NEED to have him and reader having first time + emotional yearning sex after he comes back in some way plzplzplzplz (Whether reader is a huntrix member or not is up to you haha)

A/n: still fuming about what happened to him, annny who. I hope you like it!

The blood on your hands isn’t yours.

It’s slick and warm and staining your shirt as you clutch Jinu to your chest, half-dragging, half-guiding him into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive.

But here he is.

Breathing—barely.

“Shit,” you choke out, lowering him gently onto your couch. “Jinu—how—?”

“I missed you,” he says instead of answering. His voice is hoarse, cracked around the edges, like something burnt and broken and still clinging to the memory of being whole.

You press trembling fingers to his cheek, daring to believe what you’re seeing. His skin is pale, his side is bleeding through his shirt, but it’s him. The boy who had sacrificed himself to save you. The boy who vanished in a flash of demonic light while you screamed his name.

“You died, Jinu.”

“I came back.” He shudders, reaching for you with blood-streaked fingers. “For you.”

You break. Collapsing into his chest, you cry against his collarbone, barely noticing the way he winces in pain, arms wrapping tightly around you anyway. You feel like you’re breathing underwater—like you’re drowning in disbelief, relief, and aching joy all at once.

He’s here. He’s here.

“I thought I’d never feel you again,” you whisper into his neck.

His voice is ragged. “Then feel me.”

Your eyes meet his—soft golden, wet with unshed tears. There’s no teasing in them now. No idol’s smirk. Just raw, exposed want… and grief and yearning and need.

You kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. Frantic. A crash of mouths and teeth and breathless gasps as you straddle his lap. His blood seeps into your clothes, but you don’t care. You cup his face, fingers trembling as you kiss him like it’ll tether him to the world again. Like you can kiss him into staying.

“Tell me this is real,” you whisper against his lips. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I only feel real when I’m touching you.”

You tug off your shirt, stripping off the remnants of battle-stained clothing. He watches you like you’re something divine, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin as if memorizing you is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Lie back,” you breathe, guiding him down carefully, mindful of his injury. You straddle him again, skin pressed to skin, and he groans as your lips trace his throat.

His cock is already hard beneath you—hot, twitching, and aching with the same hunger you feel in every nerve ending. You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, both of you gasping when the tip nudges your pussy.

You sink down slowly.

His hands clutch your hips, trembling. You feel every inch of him stretch you open, fill you, claim you like he was meant to be inside you all along. Like his body remembers yours.

“Oh, fuck—Jinu,” you moan, grounding yourself with your hands on his chest.

His voice is wrecked. “I dreamed of this. Every second I was gone, I dreamed of being inside you.”

You ride him slow, bodies molded together like you’re trying to erase the days, weeks, months of loss. Every roll of your hips is a promise. Every breath is a prayer. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as they flutter with each tight clench of your pussy around his cock.

You’re crying again—you don’t know when the tears started—but they fall silently down your cheeks as you move above him. Jinu reaches up, thumbing them away with infinite tenderness.

“I didn’t die for the world,” he says softly, “I died for you. And I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone. Not from you.”

Your body trembles, your climax cresting like a wave of holy fire—raw, sacred, blissful. You gasp his name as you come, pussy clenching tight around him. He cries out beneath you, hips bucking as he spills deep inside you, arms crushing you to his chest.

You lay there for a long while, tangled in each other. Breathing each other in. Hearts pounding in sync, his fingers weaving in your hair keeping you close.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his.

“I won’t,” he vows. “Even if I die again, I’ll find a way back. I’ll always find you.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clung to him as you slowly nodded your head. You believed him and like Jinu, you would find any way to bring him back.

Because he was your soulmate and you'd never leave him behind.

[fawncrw]

Bombshell #1: So you know anything about cars, sweet-cheeks?

Cas: Erm, no. I do not.

Bombshell #2: Oh me either, honey. We just come here to gossip and support our men.

Bombshell #3 (gesturing towards Dean with a wink): That’s why you’re here too right? To support your man?

Cas: I… always do my best to support Dean’s endeavors.

Bombshell #1: Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing?

And with that a beautiful friendship is born that ends up with Cas solving the case and protecting his new group of friends.

Criminal that we didn't have a Supernatural vintage car show episode, come on now

Dean can infiltrate no problem bc he genuinely knows everything about cars and gets super into discussing fixes, gets wildly side-tracked, while Sam goes off to interrogate a bunch of car-enthusiast hot milfs

Dean is glued at the hip to Cas and Cas always stands awkwardly at the Impala, doesn't know anything about cars, so everyone just assumes Cas is the boyfriend who showed up for support? And the hot young ladies in shorts and boots befriend him bc he's apparently one of the hot girlfriends? And so he gets insight into their lives and solves the case, leading them final-girl style through the monster showdown in a garage full of heavy machinery and angry ghosts

Dean watches him emerge from the garage, shotgun in hand, shirt torn and covered in grease, and he bluescreens so hard he just runs past the flock of bombshells in shorts and tank tops (also covered in grease) to clutch Cas to check him for injuries

[amrluv]

THE KATS FIGHTING FOR READER LIKE THEY WERE FIGHTING FOR THAT DAMN PROMOTION IN THE GABRIELLA MVVVV PLEASESSSS

( #! ) oo the plot was too good i had to write a lot

there wasn't a clear indicator on when this all started, on when their madness began. but to you, this was truly never-ending.

from your earliest memory, it all started on new years eve. music blasted from the speakers, a random song only popular in the 2010s filling the house. the inside was crowded—a sea of tipsy, carefree individuals no longer caring if they stand in anyone's way. the smell of sweat, somehow, and weed hit you immediately; overwhelming your already alert senses. it was a nightmare in there, but you kept pushing.

pushing your way into the kitchen, a hand grasped at your wrist. it was gentle, but firm enough to make you pause. “you're here!”

the cheery voice of manon filled your ears—a stark contrast to the chaos around you. “come with me, i wanna show you something.”

as soon as she started to pull you away another hand pulled you in the opposite direction. sophia appeared by your side, a hand resting on your shoulder. “actually, i was thinking she should come with me. i've been dying to get to talk to her more.”

manon's smile cracks. it's small, but doesn't go unnoticed by sophia. “well i had her first.” she tugged at your wrist, earning a scowl from the raven haired girl. “this isn't some ‘finders keepers’ bullshit.” sophia spat back, her hand leaving you to instead shove the other girl.

manon glared at sophia intensely, her grip on you loosening before she finally let go. “the fuck is your problem?” the tension was thick, a few bystanders watching their interaction. shit, this wasn't something you wanted to get involved in.

while the girls were distracted, you slipped away from them, weaving your way through the packed crowd.

it was good for a while. you managed to lose the fighting girls—finally enjoying the party rather than worrying. you'd managed to settle down on a somehow not packed couch in the living room; downing a drink of whatever concoction you were given. before you could fully enjoy your peace, megan came around to break it.

"hey, you enjoying the party?" she sat down next to you without asking. she was close, too close for it to be friendly—her thigh touching yours, knees knocking together. "it's alright." you took another sip of your drink, hoping the liquor will ease your nerves of what was to come.

megan was silent, too silent that it teetered on being unnerving. the usually bubbly, loud girl was now watching you like a hawk. her gaze moved from your lips to your throat, watching as you swallowed the liquid. she let out a quiet hum, moving closer to you. "you know what would make this party even better?" she began, voice husky.

"mind if i join you?"

your eyes snapped up as soon as you heard a new voice. lara. of course.

without another word she sat down on the other side of you, sitting just as close to you as megan. now, you were sandwiched between two girls vying for your attention—their gazes sharp as they glared at each other from either side.

"it's almost midnight, you got a kiss?" lara suddenly asked you. though, her eyes remained on megan whose narrowed once she heard the question. "actually, lara," megan made sure to accentuate her name, "i was hoping she'd be my new years kiss."

lara's jaw noticeably clenched at her reply, cocking her head to the side to look at you once more. "well, why don't we ask her instead?"

suddenly, all eyes were on you. their desperate, yet irritated, eyes fell upon yours. it was uncomfortable. if you chose lara, megan would get upset. if you chose megan, lara would get upset. if you left, both of them would get upset. it was a lose-lose situation—and you didn't know what to do.

"i.. um.." you hesitated, glancing between the two girls who watched expectantly.

"what about me?"

fuck, another one.

daniela's voice broke the silence, eyes moving towards her standing figure. she watched with folded arms, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. "you two are just freaking her out. she should just be my kiss. i'd be better, anyways."

"what the fuck, daniela?" megan's voice rose in pitch, astounded by the accusation she placed upon them. lara was equally shocked, scoffing at the insinuation. "i'm not a bad kisser."

"mhm, sure." daniela nodded, voice dripping in sarcasm. the brunette let out a sigh, extending a hand towards you. "c'mon, there's only a few more minutes until midnight."

lara stood, trying to swat daniela's hand away. "no way! you're not winning this time, dani."

megan mirrored lara, placing her hands on her hips as she came eye to eye with daniela. "yeah, no way." she looked back towards you. "just let me be your midnight kiss."

objections came from the other girls immediately, bickering ensuing between the three women. the clocked ticked down, nearing closer and closer to the expected hour. closer to the moment you'd have to choose.

[crispy-bonnie]

okay i was going through all of chance's voice lines and stumbled upon his hate ones. i know this is probably out of character but i feel sad now and need to project :sob:

picture this; you've got adhd and depression. your attention span is that of a goldfish and only certain things can hold your attention, but when people get annoyed by that, you feel very guilty and end up losing motivation to do anything.

let's say you're off your meds, and let's say chance is having a bad day (lux probably). the two of you are doing a session and you keep getting distracted, but chance is slowly losing patience with you. like hello?? please pay attention.

he eventually tells you to just leave. he doesn't feel like playing anymore, he says. you finally pick up on his agitation, and now ridden with guilt, you nod and get up to leave.

literally a week passes, and chance is sitting at the table waiting for you to come by. he's got his things set up, but you're nowhere to be found. confused, he asks around the office where you might be, and finally, dorian provides an answer: you've been hiding away in your room, only occassionally coming out to grab food before hiding away.

chance now feels bad, especially with the way dorian seems to be glaring daggers into his soul. how did it slip his mind like this? well, he's got to make amends somehow. the question is.. how?

i might write a part two if anyone wants that hurt/comfort, but for now i'll just leave it at hurt. if y'all wanna write your own interpretations or extensions, feel free to do so (with credit :])

[g1rld1ary]

pushing it down and praying - ex! james potter x fem!reader

part 2 to let things go wc: 5935 cw: angst with some comfort, lots of crying, swearing, blood and cuts, toxic partners, kind of misogynistic speech? sex but not in graphic detail, pls lmk if i miss any me: has taken me a hot minute but part 2 is finally here! it ended up being so much longer than i expected so i assume there will probably be a part 3 at some point bc theres so much to explore with this dynamic

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Lily’s apartment was cozy but refined, absolutely perfect for her. You could see furniture and decorations you recognised from when she first got her place with Mary, but it was clear she’d grown up, and the flat had matured with her. Your heart clenched as you realised you’d missed it all.

Thankfully, Lily hadn’t commented on your absence, hadn’t made any snide remarks that you were crawling back because you had nowhere else to go. She just held you in a long embrace the second you walked through her door, rubbing your back softly as you began to cry again.

Remus was standing behind her, a pitiful frown on his face.

“Long time no see, love.” He pulled you towards him, his knitted sweater warm and soft against you.

“I’ve missed you,” You mumbled against his chest, holding him tighter until you were almost sure you weren’t going to bawl anymore.

Remus and Lily fussed around you until you were wrapped in a thick duvet, sitting on Lily’s couch with a steaming mug of tea.

You were glad you’d let everything out over the phone; it negated the necessity to explain it under their pitiful, sympathetic gazes. Instead, you let them both fill you in on their lives.

It seemed like everything had changed, yet was still exactly the same. The friendship group had stayed, but jobs, partners, and living arrangements had shifted and altered in the time you’d been away. You hung onto their every word, filling in the gaps that had slowly appeared over the years.

Then Lily asked you to return the favour. You hesitated, unsure of where to start. You started on something safe: your career. Objective achievements, a linear progression between positions and responsibilities. You told them about the hobbies you’d picked up and those which you’d long abandoned. Finally, you told them about your flat.

You described the shitty heating that only worked once every four or five days, meaning you had blankets ready on every surface just in case. You told them about the single square metre kitchen (only a slight exaggeration) where you had to contort yourself to open any of the cupboards, but how you turned it into a game and had even started to love it. You told them about your bedroom and the sanctuary it had become, with eccentric lamps you’d found antiquing and the same cozy bedspread you’d had since adolescence.

Speaking about your bed brought you back to thoughts of Adam, though, and you could feel your spirit sink again at the idea of him moving in. Remus and Lily exchanged concerned looks, unsure of how to broach the subject.

“So, Adam’s moving in?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Can I ask something that might be uncomfortable?” Lily continued at your nod, “You and Adam have been together for, what, a couple years now, and he still hasn’t moved in? What’s your hesitation?”

You looked around at both your friends for a long moment, feeling bile rise in the back of your throat. It was bitter and burned inside your mouth, echoing how you’d been feeling all day.

“I don’t know,” You croaked, staring daggers through your tea mug, “I mean I love him! I think. But, I just… I don’t know if I want to wake up next to him forever, you know? If he moves in, it feels like that’s it. It’s permanent.”

Lily looked at you in a way that was very familiar, eyebrows knitted together in pity. You kept your eyes anywhere but hers, carefully examining some of the framed photos on the wall.

“You know it’s okay to not want what someone tells you you’re supposed to, right?” Remus said, pulling a blanket over himself on a plush armchair. You nodded, duh, but really hearing it, you bit your lip.

“It’s just, like, it’s been years, right? He’s been asking to move in since before we hit a year, and it just feels like if we don’t do it now, then he’ll break up with me. And I don’t want that! I don’t think, or — or, I didn’t, but now things are extra weird and… Ugh.” You didn’t mean to ramble or reveal so much, but you were sure it wasn’t such a surprise after the previous events of the night, and the way that Remus and Lily had known you for a million years and were intimately familiar with your tells. Evidently, you hadn’t changed that much with Adam.

“Lovely, you can’t be making huge lifestyle changes just to hope that someone doesn’t break up with you. If Adam is really the one for you, he shouldn’t mind if you tell him you’re not ready for it yet.”

“Besides,” Lily added, “We’re all still young. It’s okay to just want to experience living alone in your twenties. There’s no timeline that you have to do anything.”

“Okay,” You nodded shakily, “I’ll tell him tomorrow that I’m not ready for him to move in, but that I want us to stay together. Maybe we can reevaluate or something in a few months?” You missed the look that Remus and Lily exchanged — not ideal, but it’s a start.

“That sounds good, honey.” Lily smiled, asking if you wanted any of the ice cream she had left in the freezer.

Ten minutes later, you were all chowing down on chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, giggling over much lighter subjects.

“Is Sirius still working on that bike?” You asked, remembering the broken-down motorcycle he’d bought for almost nothing right when you graduated. He’d still been trying to repair it the last time you saw him.

“It’s working now, he’s even managed to get it flying,” Lily replied with a smile.

“God help us all,” Remus interjected, shaking his head, which made you giggle.

“You’ll have to come round and see it sometime, it’s actually quite a good-looking bike. ‘Course we’re all scared half to death whenever he rides it, but you know Sirius can’t be dissuaded.”

You asked a few other questions — had Marlene made much progress with the electric guitar? Was Peter still the best in the group at chess? Then, quietly, nervously, you asked, “How’s James?”

They both paused before answering, clearly choosing words carefully.

“He’s good,” Remus said, “Still playing quidditch, of course, but he’s beginning to think of life outside of playing and branching out to other projects. Have you seen any games?”

You shook your head. “Not since… it ended. And Adam doesn’t know I’m a witch, so it’s just easier to tune out of it all.”

“Still?” Lily asked, disbelief clear in her raised eyebrows, “They’re at the top of the ladder this season anyway, maybe you can come over and watch a match one time if you’re not up to attending in person — they’ve finally caught up with muggle television.” Remus brought over one of the framed photos sitting beside the television as Lily spoke, clearly a recent one. James looked good, like always.

“Outside of work?” You poked, trying to talk around your point. Remus just raised an eyebrow. He always was too smart for his own good.

“He’s had a few short-term girlfriends, but nothing more than a few months. I think he’s looking to settle down, though.”

“He always wanted a family.” You nodded.

“As do you,” Lily said, though it sounded more like a challenge. You choked on your ice cream at the implication, shaking your head.

“I’m with Adam,” You confirmed, partly for yourself.

“Never said you weren’t” She held her hands up in surrender, “Just something to think about.”

The next night, you invited Adam over for a home-cooked dinner. An apology of sorts for the night before, and a softener for what was to come.

You sat across from him, pushing your pasta around the bowl as you tried to broach the subject. Adam was focused on his food, attacking the bowl like he had something to prove.

“So, um, I have to tell you something,” You said, fork scraping against the porcelain bowl.

“What?” More of a statement than a question, but you proceeded anyway.

“I don’t think we should move in together.” Adam’s head snapped up to face you, already clouding over with anger. “But I don’t think we should break up! Not at all, I want to be with you, I do. Just… I’m only getting started in my life, and I think I need to have this time where I’m figuring so much out to be okay with being alone and self-sufficient.”

“And you can’t figure that shit out with me in the flat?” He asked, unimpressed.

“It’s not about you, Adam,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “That’s the whole point. It’s about me. I want to be a fully formed woman, I need to know who I am in my soul before I attach my identity to yours!”

“I don’t get it, isn’t that the fucking point? This is a serious, grown-up relationship, is it not? What are you waiting for? Do you not love me, is that it?” It wasn’t like Adam was yelling or flipping tables or anything, but tears welled at your lash line, threatening to bubble over and down your cheeks.

“Can we just take a minute?” You begged, hands splayed out on the table like they were keeping you upright. “I don’t want this to be a fight.” Adam huffed but nodded, and you went to go sit in your bedroom while he took the couch as you both cooled off — well, Adam cooled off and you cried.

Your bedroom was still a mess from your attempts at cleaning out yesterday, but you sidestepped the piles of junk in order to throw yourself across your mattress, sobbing into the pillow as you clutched it tight between your arms.

It went exactly how you thought it would — Adam taking it overly personal and blowing up. He just didn’t get it. He’d already done all his figuring out by the time he’d even met you; he was almost thirty! Adam had his whole life planned out, and you were dragging him behind.

In your devastation, to your entire shame and disgrace, you began to think about James. What would your life be like now if you hadn’t broken up? Would you have moved in together by now? Or would you be resisting it like you were now? A memory struck you, one that had you crying harder.

You lay on James’ naked chest, hand softly playing with his curls. You’d both just lost your virginities and were basking in the post-sex haze in his bedroom over the summer holidays, shrouded in white sheets, orange sun rays filtering through the window.

“How long do you think we’ll be together for?” You asked, voice small, though you didn’t pull away from him. It was an insecure question, you knew, but it had been a vulnerable day.

“As long as you’ll have me,” James answered without hesitation, hand drawing gentle circles in the small of your back. You smiled, so big James could feel it against his skin.

“Will we get married?” You followed up, tracing his jawline featherlight.

“Somewhere gorgeous,” He replied, “In a garden with those flowers you like, the purple ones.”

“Sirius will be your best man, and Lily will be my maid of honour, and your mum will cry buckets.” You were both giggling, giddy in the way only teenagers in love can be.

“Will we have children?” He asked, pulling you so you were directly on top of him, the two of you nose to nose.

“Yes,” You paused to think, “Two or three maybe. One boy and two girls.”

“Sounds good to me, lovely. Can’t wait for forever.”

You were smiling through the tears, the nostalgic joy of the memory flooding through you. A knock at the door had the warmth seeping out of you, pulling you back to the moment you were living in. You made an affirmative noise, and Adam cracked the door open, looking a little like a kicked dog.

“I don’t want to fight, babe. I won’t move in yet.”

You managed a weak smile, nodding as you blinked a few times until your eyes were dry.

Adam sat next to you, the mattress dipping under him. He put an arm around you, your muscles tensing under his touch.

“It’s okay, babe. I get that you need time to grow up or whatever, but we love each other, so it’s fine. I can still stay over, right?”

“Yeah,” You hesitated, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” He said, leaning over to kiss you, “Because I couldn’t live without you.”

You let Adam kiss you, malleable under his direction. He pushed you back onto the mattress, and you let him slide your red woollen sweater over your head, kissing down your neck and collarbone.

Soon you were naked, lying still underneath Adam as he slid in and out of you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. I love him, you told yourself, I love him. And so you kissed him, craning your neck to reach him, hoping he couldn’t see written on your face what was creeping into your heart.

You closed your eyes, a big mistake. In your head, instead of Adam fucking you it was James, his doe eyes boring into your own. Fuck, you wanted to feel guilty. You knew it was wrong, Adam was your boyfriend. Not James. James hadn’t been your boyfriend for years.

And yet, you didn’t feel guilty that you were fantasising about your ex whilst you were actively having sex with your current boyfriend. In fact, you’d just started feeling good. Your back arched up into Adam’s chest as you moaned, “Fuck, touch me.” You fell just short of crying James’ name, thank god.

Adam finished, collapsing on top of you and wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Love you,” He mumbled, holding you tighter.

“Yeah,” You whispered, rolling onto your side, “You too.”

You were still awake an hour later, staring at the wall, bathed in silver light from the moon outside the window. On your nightstand stood two framed photos, one of you and Adam early in your relationship, his arms around you as you both stood in a nightclub, wide smiles on both your faces. The second was of your Hogwarts friends when you were much younger, at Remus’s sixteenth birthday party.

You were all squished around the armchair that Remus sat in, a crooked birthday crown sitting on his hair. You were next to James but your arms rested on Remus’ shoulders so it wasn’t obvious that you guys were a couple at that time — but you knew his hand was resting on your arse behind the back of the seat. If Adam was privy to that knowledge, then you knew the photo would have been thrown away years ago.

You couldn’t help staring at James. He looked the same as he did when you broke up, bright grin and mischief in his eyes. His glasses were crooked across his nose, you remember reaching up to adjust them after the picture was taken. You missed him; you couldn’t deny that to yourself. But it wasn’t romantic, you reasoned, just nostalgia spurred on by the past few days. You only pictured him instead of Adam because it was an experience you were used to, no other reason. You repeated that mantra until you fell into an unsatisfying sleep.

A few weeks passed, and you were making a conceited effort to stay in touch with your old friends. At first, it was just Lily and Remus, confident in knowing that they still liked you. But eventually, you reached out to the rest of the girls too, pushing through an awkward coffee date to reestablish your previous connection. You hadn’t reached out to Sirius yet, and you knew you’d never contact James, but you were content that you were taking steps to bring back the old part of your life.

“I’m off,” You said one evening, pulling on your coat, “Headed to the pub with Lily and some of the girls.”

“Since when are you hanging out with them?” Adam asked, looking up from the football match he was watching on your couch.

“Just recently,” You answered blithely, “I realised I hadn’t seen them in forever! Crazy.” You purposefully left out any suggestion that it was Adam’s doing; it would just cause another fight.

“I thought you didn’t like them anymore? Remember you said they were too immature?”

“I didn’t—” You cut yourself off, shrinking in shame when you recalled the moments the words left your mouth, trying desperately to seem cool in front of Adam’s older friends. “Well, um, you know. It’s been a couple years, maybe they’ve changed.” You slipped out the door before Adam could say anything else about it.

Later that night, or earlier the next morning, you stumbled in, blissful from a night of laughter and dancing with your friends, just like when you were younger. You didn’t expect to see Adam still up, a sitcom rerun playing, but he clearly wasn’t watching.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, standing.

“I told you, out with the girls.”

“Til two in the morning?” He took a step towards you, and you headed towards your bedroom.

“We went dancing.”

“Great, so you were probably grinding on some other fuckin’ guy,” He huffed, and you hurried over to him, a soft hand on his bicep.

“I would never! Adam, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Prove that you love me.”

You were beginning to have a problem. Lying naked in bed, Adam inside you, yet you couldn’t enjoy it unless you were picturing James instead. You had to imagine it was James’ lightly calloused fingers running up and down your sides to derive any pleasure from it.

And still, you couldn’t feel guilty, because when you closed your eyes and James’ kind smile replaced Adam’s, you’re insides finally ignited, giving you a release you’d been waiting for. The same which convinced Adam you hadn’t cheated on him. Funny how that works.

Things were shaky, but mostly alright, for a few more weeks. You saw your friends when you could, but tried not to bring it up very much in front of Adam. He got moodier every time you mentioned them. Snide comments, subtle insults, you had no idea why he hated them so much.

It all came to a head a few weeks later.

“I’m off to lunch, you can stay here if you’d like,” You said, applying your mascara in the hallway mirror.

“And I wonder who you’re going out with.” He rolled his eyes with a huff.

“It’s Remus’ birthday,” You pleaded, “I have to go.”

“But Remus hates me, how could you be friends with someone who hates your boyfriend?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” He does. “Besides, it’s his birthday, and it’s just lunch. I can’t miss it.”

“Fine, whatever. I just can’t believe you’re choosing them over me.” Adam turned back to the television, your shoulders slumping as you sighed, hand making its way up to your forehead.

“I’m not choosing either of you — whatever, I’ll be back in a few hours. Let yourself out.”

At your lunch, you recounted the story to your friends with a casual air, scolding Remus when he interjected with a deadpan “I do hate him.”

“He’s really not that bad, Remus. He’s just not maybe your kind of guy.”

“He’s no one’s type of guy,” Marlene snorted, “He’s barely a man. Six years older than you and acting like a child.”

“Come on, guys,” You sighed with a small smile, “We’re here for Remus, not to rag on my boyfriend.”

The conversation moved on to lighter subjects, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling that maybe your friends had a point. It wasn’t like they would lie to you, right? Surely if all of them thought Adam wasn’t right for you, there was some truth to the statement.

You figured it was an issue you’d deliberate over when you were home alone, not when you were in the company of friends.

Even Sirius was there, giving you a long embrace when you reunited, though the energy between you wasn’t as effortless as it had been in the past — you couldn’t blame him. You were told James couldn’t make it because of quidditch training, but Remus said he saw James enough that it didn’t really matter whether or not he was there for the official celebration.

You stumbled along the path with Mary, who lived nearby, giggling as you’d perhaps gone overboard at bottomless lunch. You were unaware of Adam still in the apartment, watching you with contempt from your front window, three stories up.

“See me soon, okay?” Mary made you pinky promise, kissing you on both cheeks.

“Of course, we’ll go see that movie you were talking about — the one about the cowboys.” You nodded eagerly, squeezing her hand as you turned towards your door.

You fumbled with the keys, missing the slot two or three times before pushing into your flat. To your surprise, instead of the tranquil apartment you were expecting, Adam was standing in the middle of your open plan area, clutching something tightly in his hand.

“Hey,” You said lightly, stepping closer. You could finally make out James’ postcard wrinkling under Adam’s grip, and your face fell. Looking over, your room was in disarray, your memory boxes strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” He held up the postcard, practically vibrating in his fury.

“Adam…”

“No, what the fuck is this? How can you possibly defend having all this just sitting in your bedroom?”

“Adam, it’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? You’ve got boxes full of shit from your ex-boyfriend, how can there be any other explanation?”

“It’s stuff from my friends too, it’s just from my school years!” You tried to defend yourself.

“Don’t lie to me!” Adam yelled, and you faltered, shrinking away from him. “You’re still fucking in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” You protested, tears welling in your eyes.

“You know, my friends all told me you weren’t worth it. That you were immature and hung up on that dick, that I was dating below my league. But I defended you, said you were mature for your age, that you were cool. And this is how you fucking thank me? By emotionally cheating on me with your fucking teenage boyfriend? You’re just a pathetic girl.”

You could only watch, paralysed, as Adam ripped up the postcard, tossing it to the floor. A fat tear rolled down your cheek.

“Adam, please, can we just talk about this, it’s not like that!”

“Talk about what? That I’ve given you years of love just for you to run back to some washed up high school jock you dated when you were sixteen?”

“I haven’t seen James in years!” You yelled over him desperately, sobs wracking through your body.

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’ll treat you like a child. I’m fucking done.” Adam stormed past you, pausing only to throw your framed graduation photo on the floor, the glass of the frame shattering into a thousand pieces at your feet.

The door closed with a violent slam, and you sank to the floor, hardly noticing the shards of glass tearing up the skin of your knees. You clutched the remnants of the photo, too distraught to care about the blood dripping from your hands as you grasped the ruined frame hopelessly.

You cried for what felt like hours, alone in your dark apartment, unable to gather the energy to even switch on a lamp. It was only when you had no tears left to cry that you pushed yourself up onto shaky legs, stumbling out of your flat in a daze.

You wandered down the streets, limping from where a particularly deep cut had sliced into the join of your knee. You weren’t bothered by the disturbed stares of passersby, too emotionally drained to even be self-conscious.

You didn’t stop until you were standing at Lily’s doorstep, weak hand extending to the doorbell.

Inside, the gang had continued Remus’ birthday celebrations, everyone giggling over wine and a Bowie record. When the doorbell rang, clear and piercing even through the joyous noise, no one expected the visitor waiting to be let in.

Of course, it was Lily who opened the door, gasping in horror as she took you in, grabbing the attention of the rest of the party.

You stood in the doorway, mascara running down your cheeks, your hair a mess. You were still wearing the mini skirt and blouse you’d worn to lunch, but your bare shins were covered in blood, matching your hands, from where you’d been cut up by glass shards.

Lily ushered you in, and you followed her numbly down the entrance way toward your friends.

“Hey,” You croaked, voice rough from harsh sobs.

They all spoke at once, questions of what happened and whether you were okay, exclamations of horror at your sorry state.

“Did he do this to you?” Sirius asked, and no one had to clarify who ‘he’ was.

“No,” You shook your head, “Not directly.”

“We need to get you cleaned up,” Lily said, comforting hand warm on your back. For the first time, though, you’d noticed James.

He looked the same, yet entirely different. The years had changed him for the better. James had grown into his features, strong jawline just dusted with a five o’clock shadow. His curls had grown out slightly, sitting just below his ears, but his glasses were still crooked on his face, just as you remembered them always being.

Right now, though, his face was far from the sunny, mischievous expression you were used to seeing. As you locked eyes for the first time in years, conflict was clear on James’ face. You were sure yours was exactly the same.

“Uh, come on.” Lily pulled you gently, leading you along to the bathroom. By the time you arrived, you were crying again.

Lily didn’t question you as she sat you on the closed toilet lid, letting you silently cry as she wet an old rag. There was a knock at the bathroom door, just two quick ones which echoed against the tiles. Lily cracked the door open, a slight gasp escaping her as she came face to face with James.

“What are you doing?” She asked softly, a hand reaching out to comfort him. There was no reason he should be coming after you.

“I’m the only one here with any first aid training,” He replied, studiously avoiding you, “Glass is trickier than a plan cut.”

“Oh, ok,” Lily nodded, “Do you want me to stay?” She whispered, and you pretended you couldn’t hear despite the three of you all occupying the same square metre. James shook his head, and they swapped places, Lily giving him a long look before leaving you two alone.

James didn’t say anything at first, simply taking the rag that Lily had left in the sink, wringing it out so it wasn’t dripping, before making his way over to you. You didn’t make eye contact.

“I’ll just clean off the dried blood first, shouldn’t hurt too bad.” James’ voice was more gruff than you remembered, but maybe that was because he was with you. You didn’t say anything, but gave him a small nod.

James started with your knees, pressing the rag lower on your shins where the blood had run to. That part didn’t hurt, so you sat in silence, the only reprieve coming from the music floating softly from the living room. The bathroom door was only open a crack, closing by itself in the movement before.

“What are you holding?” He broke the silence. You looked down, snapping out of a daze. You didn’t have the words to describe the picture without absolutely sounding weird or talking yourself into a hole, so you just held it out for him to inspect.

James took it from you, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges. You watched in real time as his eyes softened, the beginnings of a smile twitching at his lips as he examined it.

“From graduation?” He asked. You nodded, your own smile threatening your lips.

“It made me happy every time I looked at it; I had to keep it.”

You locked eyes, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, that you were both freshly out of school and in love. Then, in an instant, you were both back in the present moment. You both averted your eyes quickly, examining your injuries.

“Um, this part’ll hurt. I would do it with magic, but honestly, the glass kinda stresses me out, I’d rather just do it by hand.”

James dug around in Lily’s bathroom cabinet until he found a pair of tweezers, and you winced before he’d even approached with them.

It took fifteen minutes for James to fish all the shards out of your knee, the only sound being your whimpers and James’ quiet apologies.

“You ready for the hand, or do you wanna take a break?” He asked softly, still not looking at you.

“No, do it. I just want this whole nightmare to be over.”

You whimpered as the tweezers fished around in your cut, screwing your eyes shut tight as you tried to stay still.

“It’s almost over, love, you’re alright,” James said, before visibly remembering where he was and becoming serious once again, “Uh, I’ll be quick.” You didn’t say anything, too focused on trying not to jerk away from James’ intrusions.

James pulled out a bandage and some rubbing alcohol, preparing to treat the wounds. You hissed as James cleaned the wound, the alcohol burning inside the raw flesh. He put a hand on your thigh to comfort you out of past habit, thumb caressing the skin gently.

He wrapped your hand up in the bandage, touch soft though you still weren’t talking.

At long last, you were finished, yet James didn’t move from in front of you. You stared at each other, years of unsaid feelings coming to the surface.

“Did he hurt you?” James asked, tone low and dangerously controlled.

“He didn’t do this.” You looked down at your bandaged hand and knees.

James just nodded curtly, clearly satisfied that he didn’t have to go kill a man. He stood, holding the door open politely so you could rejoin the others.

You took a seat next to Remus on the sofa, smiling weakly when he put a comforting hand on your thigh.

“Do you wanna tell us what happened, honey?” Mary asked sweetly, bringing you a tea from the kitchen.

“I don’t know, it seems so stupid now…” You recounted the afternoon anyway, tears burning behind your eyes. Your friends all looked to be in various states of shock and horror as you told them what Adam said to you.

“You’re acting like a child? Be fucking for real,” Remus snapped to no one in particular.

“So what now?” Marlene asked.

“Well, ‘I’m fucking done’ was quite clear. We’re broken up.” You didn’t look at James, too afraid of his reaction.

There was a moment of silence in the room before your friends erupted in thunderous applause, hooting and hollering as Lily fetched a bottle of champagne from the kitchen. James didn’t partake in the external celebrations; in fact, you couldn’t read his face at all.

Still, when a bubbling glass was handed to you with an accompanying congratulations, you couldn’t help but smile through your upset.

“Our girl is free!” Sirius sang, draping himself across Remus to cheers your glass, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

“Shove off,” You laughed despite yourself, “I’ve just been dumped, you dick.”

“Yeah, by a man who we’ve been hoping you would see the light and break up with for years!” Mary cackled, and you giggled, the bubbles already floating up to your head through your bloodstream.

“Where do you go from here, practically?” Lily asked kindly, always the one to be thinking pragmatically.

“Well, thank god he didn’t move in, so I don’t have to deal with any lease stuff. Honestly, the only thing I lose is his friends, but they never liked me anyway. They thought I was immature, or too much or whatever.”

“So literally no loss,” Remus said casually, “You’re better off, even. Though we could have told you that after the first date.”

“Hindsight’s 20/20, right?” You said weakly, revelling at least in your friend’s laughter. “Lils, would it be possible for me to stay here tonight? There’s still a bunch of Adam’s stuff in my flat that I couldn’t bear to look at tonight.” Lily agreed in a heartbeat, of course.

The night wore down, and your friends all eventually set off for their own homes. You were mostly left with congratulations and celebratory hugs, but you stood in front of James as he set off for the door, tension thickening before your eyes.

“Thank you for helping me,” You said earnestly.

“It’s no problem, wouldn’t want you to have to deal with a messy breakup and glass embedding in your body,” He tentatively joked, the new dynamic between you entirely unexplored.

“It was really nice to see you, James.”

“Yeah,” He hesitated, “Yeah, you too. You deserve so much more than that jerk ever gave you.”

With that, he walked off, leaving you stunned and conflicted in the middle of Lily’s living room.

Half an hour later, you were lying beside Lily in her double bed, the moment feeling perfectly like you were having your childhood sleepovers again.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” You whispered, squeezing Lily’s hand under the covers.

“Anytime, you know that.”

“Thanks for letting me come back.” You both paused, the weight of what you’d let happen over the years sinking in. You’d missed so much. Nobody was the same as they were, including you.

“This is your chance, my love. Figure out who you are. Not who he wants you to be.���

[truerhearts]

cw: blood

astarion slams into her, hard, just as something massive and sharp glints through the air. her sword falls with a clang, and her back hit the cave floor with a crack, the wind knocked clean out of her. her brain is trying to keep up, but it happens too fast. the sound… the wet sickening sound of metal tearing through flesh. then a loud roar, followed by gurgling, and then the heavy drop of a body, hard enough to shake the ground. her heart is hammering loudly in her ears, feeling like it's about to leap out of her chest. she scrambled for her sword before climbing to her feet, prepared for the worst, but the sight before her was an unexpected one the orc is on the cave floor, throat torn wide open, blood seeping from the gash and pooling slowly beneath it. it had been sprayed in thick dark ribbons across the stone. Its war axe laying inches from where she was previously standing, its blade buried halfway into a stalagtite instead of her skull. astarion is standing over the lifeless body. he’s breathing hard. his chest rises and falls in sharp, shallow bursts. and he’s drenched in blood. its everywhere — splattered across his cheek, his forehead, dripping down his jaw in dark streaks. it's in his silver hair, on his throat, streaking down in vivid lines, something hot twists low in her stomach. he looks like a predator. he just killed for her, didn't hesitate. just threw himself between her and that axe. and now he's standing there, drenched in gore. the dagger that finished the job is dripping blood onto the stone floor, drip, drip, drip, the only sound echoing in the cavern. then, he turns his gaze to her, his breathing more controlled. with a graceful flick, he shakes the blood from his blade - it scatters in a fine arc - and steps over the orc's body. he walks towards her. her breath catches. "are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and rough-edged, his eyes scanning her for any sign of injury. she nods slowly, because what else is she supposed to do? he's standing in front of her, painted in violence and breathing hard from saving her life. he looks like something out of a nightmare. …or a dream. maybe its the adrenaline. maybe its the fact he just saved her life, but she cant stop staring at the way the blood glistens along his throat, can't stop tracing every drop that clings to his face. contrast of the red against his marble-pale skin is devastating blood should make someone look monstrous. but astarion? he looks divine. like some fallen angel baptized in violence, wrathful and unholy. and maybe it was morbid, admiring him like that, all blood-soaked and heaving. but instead, she's never been more attracted to anything in her life. his head tilts slightly, and she only then realizes she's been staring. his lips curve into that familiar, wicked smirk, blood still staining the corner of his mouth. "well," he purrs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "if i'd known you'd look at me like that afterwards, i would have killed something for you much sooner."

a/n: inspired by this post

[dykeriver]

can i just say… gamer!ellie playing something or another on her desktop when you crawl between her legs and pull her loose boxers down (and now, she’s gaming, obviously she isn’t wearing any pants). she’s so preoccupied with her game that she doesn’t even process what you’re doing, eyes glued to the screen. she finally notices when you part her thighs, blowing a cold gust of air on her exposed cunt. she’s already a little wet and you smile. “babe wh-” is all she can get out before you’re diving in, her slick salty-sweet against your tongue. she whimpers, dropping her hands to your hair and gently clenching two fistfuls of it. “no. play.” you tell her, bringing your fingers to her now sopping wet pussy, sliding into her velvety hole with two fingers. she chokes out this high, sweet sound, and shakily palms her mouse once again.

she obviously loses.

[corroding-time]

I gotchu bro

part two to this

gentleman top male reader x horny boyfriend. nsfw.

-

So let’s say you finally get the hint - or maybe not. I bet he has to outwardly and directly tell you. Straight up confront you because his subtle coy techniques and methods weren’t working at all. It’d go something like this:

The two of you’d just be cuddling, after another one of his attacks to try and provoke you. You might be scrolling on your phone, or doing your work, he’s holding tight to you and staring off to the distance, spacing out. Then he’d suddenly snap his head towards you. “Babe.” He’d say. You look at him and ask what.

“Let’s have sex.”

You cough and sputter, choking on air. Did he really have to say it so directly? “You didn’t understand any of my advances…” he pouts. “So I thought the best way to get what I want is to be upfront.”

And of course you agree, because you never refuse your boyfriend.

-

Sex with you was so… uninteresting.

His heart thumped with excitement as he thought- would you be rough? Would you be harsh? Unrelenting with him that even when he begs you to stop, you keep going? He was hoping to see a meaner, feral side to you.

But to his shock, you were as kind as normal- if anything, even kinder. He was disappointed. He thought that everyone has a different side to them during sex. But you… You were all prim and proper, using a generous amount of lube, wearing a condom, prepping him nice and thoroughly. You entered gently, so slowly. You held him like glass. Wouldn’t move until he was comfortable- and when he lied that he was, you grabbed his face, squishing it and telling him to stop lying. That was the ‘roughest�� you had been with him, ever. You held him close, going at a pace that would pleasure him but not hurt him. And that was the worst part- you were still so considerate- always going out of your way to accommodate him. Always in positions that he wouldn’t get hurt in, probing and poking places that would give him most pleasure, making sure he was ok. When you started off, he thought he wouldn’t get anything from this.

But for some reason, he didn’t know why, he loved it.

He came very shortly after you entered him, he had never felt so… full. It has been a while since the last time he had vanilla sex… He begged you to continue and you did. Every time he came, you’d stop after he seemed done, caressing him and wiping the sweat off of him, pushing his hair back and kissing him and telling him how much you loved him and that if he wanted to stop, you would, then switch positions every time he told you to keep going. He started crying tears halfway through from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was feeling- it was always a mix of pain and pleasure, he never knew it could just be pleasure. You stop and worriedly wipe his tears, but he pleads that you continue.

After a while, you stopped humoring him and said it was enough. As you pull away and out, he grabs you and begs you not to. You kiss his forehead, telling him that he was clearly tired and that it wasn’t good for him. He was trembling all over, eyes hazy, body weak and obviously out of it.

He reluctantly let you pull out- and he realized. You never changed the condom, not once. “Babe! You didn’t cum even once! Was I… not good enough for you?” He bit his lower lip as his eyes started tearing up again, this time out of hurt. You kiss him and tell him no, don’t ever say that, he was perfect and you didn’t deserve him. Reassuring that you did feel immense pleasure, it’s just that you wanted to focus on him tonight. He frowned, but seeing how rock hard and how much you were leaking when you took off the condom, he knew you were telling the truth. When he insisted he get you off, you refused, saying he was going to pass out any moment, given the toll cumming so many times had taken on his body. As you take him to the bathroom, he can’t help but feel bad. One of the goals tonight was to see you come undone. He was hoping to see how you would look and act when you were out of it. Next time, he thought. Next time he’d be sure to get you to cum.

He was already planning the next advance to get you worked up.

[just-kattt]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!! sooo stinking cute.

Cry-baby werewolf x reader

A werewolf watches you obliviously pull up to the old cabin that as far as he's concerned has been desolate for years.

You're in his territory, he doesn't like it. He knows how humans work. They're skittish little things, so in theory, scaring you off shouldn't be a problem.

That night, he played all the tricks in the book. Distant otherworldly howling, leaving large tracks outside, dead animals being deposited on the doorstep, and deep gouged claw marks on your car.

Seeing that you still haven't left he grows frustrated. This isn't how it's supposed to work. You should be long gone, he should have his woods back. Others of his kind would have roared, ripped the door off the hinges and scared the human shitless.

However our little werewolf was in fact conflict averse and very scared of the new addition to his woodland territory. He'd specifically chosen these woods due to the lack of both humans and other werewolfs, but as days turned into weeks and the human seemed to ignore all his warnings he grew restless and knew he'd have to be more upfront.

Late evening and your getting ready to eat, the chair in your hands halfway pulled out. Growling, loud and dangerous. Turning you see it the bipedal mass of fur and muscle standing in your door way. As it goes to move your body reacts of its own accord hurling the kitchen chair towards the beast.

You freeze expecting to be charged, ripped limb from limb but all that follows is a yelp and then soft wining. Oh god, it's hurt, nose bloodied and curled up on the ground. Most would have fled but you're different.

"What the fuck?!"

Your voice rang out, angry at being startled. You waste no time berating your furry intruder, he's bleeding on the floor, your chairs broken and finally, FINALLY you know who's responsible for the damage to your car.

You're caught of guard when you hear... crying? It takes you a moment, what you assumed was an apex predator is crying softly holding his nose. Now you feel bad, the poor thing's clearly out of his depth and wasn't expecting you to fight back or scold him for his actions.

With a sigh you get some blankets and a warm cloth to clean this over grown puppy's nose. You came to the damn woods to get away from people but now? Well, at least he's cute in a pathetic kind of way.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hello! I got a request for you. Sense you've got few k-pop demon hunters fanfics, can you do a smut fanfic about Mira x FemReader? It's okay if you can't do it :) (I also read one of your FD fanfics and they're really good!)

A/n: MIRA YESSSSS , also thank you! You're so sweet.

Reader is Mira’s soft, golden-retriever girlfriend — warm, loyal, and adoring. Mira is cool, intense, and protective — but secretly just as needy for her girlfriend as demons are for chaos.

The hotel room was dim, lit only by the neon sign bleeding in from the balcony. Mira stood near the window, still in her outfit from what was supposed to be a show, you could see just enough to reveal the sheen of sweat at her throat. You watched her silently from the bed, wrapped in a towel after your shower, hair still damp and clinging to your cheeks.

She hadn’t said much since the mission,the chaos of the 'show'. Just a quiet nod to the rest of the team and a tug on your wrist as she led you up here, alone.

You padded over to her without a word, resting your chin on her shoulder from behind. “Hey,” you murmured, arms slipping gently around her waist. “I’m proud of you.”

Mira let out a breath through her nose, but didn’t answer. You could feel the tension in her muscles — taut, like a bowstring about to snap.

Your lips brushed against her neck. “Let me help you come down…”

That did it.

In one sudden, fluid motion, Mira turned, backing you toward the bed, hands at your waist like she needed to feel that you were still here — warm, soft, real. Her mouth found yours with urgency, all teeth and tongue at first, before it melted into something deeper. Hungrier.

You gasped softly when she pushed you down onto the mattress, straddling your hips, her thighs pressing tight against yours. You looked up at her with wide, devoted eyes — golden retriever gaze shining — and Mira’s control nearly snapped.

“You’re too good to me,” she rasped, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

“I know,” you whispered, tilting your head up for another kiss. “I want you to show me.”

She groaned low in her throat.

Her mouth trailed down your jaw, over your collarbone, while her fingers slowly undid the knot of your towel, letting it fall open to reveal the smooth warmth of your skin. You shivered beneath her, more from anticipation than the cool air.

Mira’s hand slid between your thighs, fingertips stroking you gently, deliberately — and you were already soaked.

“Fuck…” she whispered, voice rough against your neck. “You’re always so ready for me.”

Your breath hitched. “Only for you, Mira…”

That was all it took. She slid two fingers into you, slow but deep, her thumb circling your clit with practiced precision. You moaned, hips bucking slightly, but Mira pressed her body over yours, keeping you grounded — her weight, her strength, her scent — all of it surrounding you like armor.

“You’re so sweet when you’re like this,” she murmured, curling her fingers just right, drawing another whimper from you. “My soft girl. My good girl.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak — just nodded desperately, thighs trembling around her hand.

Mira kissed you again, slower this time. As if tasting your soul.

She never rushed it. Not with you. Not when you looked at her like she hung the moon and forgave every demon that clung to her shadow.

Your hands tangled in her hair as the pressure built — heat curling tighter and tighter in your belly.

“Mira—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Let go,” she murmured, fingers speeding up just enough, her voice the only anchor you needed. “Come for me, baby.”

You shattered with a cry, back arching beneath her, your release pulsing around her fingers. Mira held you through every second of it, her lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

When your breathing slowed, she pulled her hand away and gently licked her fingers clean, eyes never leaving yours.

You flushed. “You’re such a menace.”

She smirked. “And you love it.”

You did. With your whole stupid, loyal heart.

And as she pulled you into her arms and whispered that she needed you — only you — you knew you’d follow her through heaven, hell, or another demon hunt. Wherever she needed you to be

[wistericaine]

'golden girl's hoodie' | james potter

streamer!james x streamer!reader | fluff | wc: 457

summary: james wears your merch on stream

James knew that he was going to get clipped.

You had recently released a new merchline for your viewers—a project that you had been working on for hours. Endless hours, truly. Between contracts and producing and designing, he knew that you were exhausted.

So, he decided to do a bit of the promotion for you.

Not to say that you hadn’t done any, or that yours wasn’t adequate. It was more than adequate, if he was being honest. He just really wanted to help.

And maybe wear your merch on stream.

“Yes, chat. I know, chat.” he chuckled. The chat had been flooding with messages about the hoodie he was currently wearing, most of the fandom not even knowing that the two of you interacted. The ones that did were most likely getting a karma of some sort. He knew that they had been shipping the two of you together for a while now. 

“Do you not like it?” he raised an eyebrow, standing up so that the chat could see it better. “There’s other designs, of course. This one just fit me better.”

Said hoodie also had been signed by you right at the bottom of the logo, your signature sticking out in bold white littering. 

He laughed at the way that the chat seemed to move even faster at the sight. 

“You guys are ridiculous.” he rolled his eyes. “Make sure you go buy some!”

“Jamie?” you called out.

James turned around the corner, toothbrush in mouth as he let out a garbled ‘yes love’ to you. 

“Did you happen to promote my hoodie recently?” you asked James curiously. 

The two of you were meant to be having a relaxed and calm breakfast that morning. A respite from the marketing and the meetings that you’ve been having to do the past couple of weeks in order to get merch and events booked.

The keyword here was meant.

Almost as soon as you sat down, your inbox had been flooded more than it had ever been. Mentions of you and James, your merch, and a hoodie were the only things that you caught before deciding to just mute Twitter for the day.

“Uh—” he mumbled, spitting out the toothpaste before flashing you a toothy grin. 

“James.” you sighed fondly.

“It’s comfortable!” he defended himself. “Listen, I was only going to wear it on stream because we were playing a horror game. It’s not my fault they kept pointing it out.”

“Did you have to point out the fact I signed yours specifically?” you asked. 

He rolled his eyes at that. “Semantics.”

You rolled your eyes back. “You’re ridiculous, Jamie.” you laughed.

“Your kind of ridiculous thought.” he winked at you. How right he truly was.

hello everyone, i hope you guys enjoyed! i've recently been falling in love with the idea of the marauders as streamers, so i'm making aus for them! if you can't tell by my posts, i have thought a lot about this au in the past 24 hours. original inspo for this au. thanks so much for reading!

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© wistericaine 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs + comments are so very appreciated!

[p0rcelain-d0e]

Do I need this? Yes😭

rick grimes who is not going to give you a fucking hickey

rick grimes who is 15 years older than you, goddammit, and well past his “hickey days”

rick grimes who dismisses your pouty bottom lip with a wave after rebuffing your 12th whiny opine of the day about why you think he should stain your pretty throat with as many hickeys as possible, because honestly, he’s trying to maintain some fucking level of respectability around here

rick grimes who’s already had it up to here with the whispered gossip and dodgy looks he’s been getting since the group found out about y’all’s relationship, partially because of your substantial age gap (which, jesus, it’s not like he feels particularly good about that either, but he just couldn’t fucking help himself, ok?), but also because it’s common knowledge that he shares you with daryl, which…ok, yeah, maybe it’s a little unconventional, but it’s the fucking apocalypse! who has the bandwidth to care about shit like that anymore?

rick grimes who’s really, seriously not going to give you a fucking hickey, you need to stop asking him, he’s gonna get well and truly pissed off soon if you don’t stop —

rick grimes who sees a hickey on your throat one day.

clear as day, right beneath the soft hinge of your jaw, a bruise blotched into the otherwise flawless expanse of your long, pretty neck. and when his gaze dares to skate a little lower, wouldn’t you know it — there’s another one, on the other side, where the column of your throat melts into the rest of your shoulder, vivid and offensive.

you say they’re from daryl. you blink your long lashes and screw up your plush lips and fold your arms, like rick’s the one being ridiculous, like you didn’t just waltz in front of him with another man’s mark on you —

and listen. he loves daryl, honest to god. that’s his best friend, his right hand, the man he’d trust with his life one hundred times over. and daryl is a good man, so rick’s never minded sharing you with him. he knows you’re safe, knows you’re happy, yet all of that means dick the second he sees the evidence of daryl’s mouth on your body

rick grimes who is just a man, at the end of the day.

rick grimes who hefts you up and against the wall, his mouth latched onto your pulse point before you can finish asking him what the fuck he’s doing, his hands batting yours out of his fucking way because you like to fight him, you like to push and squirm and whine like he’s not doing everything you beg him for, because you know it makes him feel like a fucking pervert, but all the fight wheezes out of you like a deflating balloon the second he scoops your wrists into one large palm and thwacks them above your head so you stop fucking trying to push him away

rick grimes who scratches his way down your neck, sucking, biting, licking, the coarse scrape of his beard rubbing you raw, giving you what you fucking asked for, camouflaging the marks daryl oh-so-generously gave you with livid bruises of his own because he’s a bad, possessive, jealous old man who cannot stop himself

rick grimes who grinds himself against your ass while you whimper for him, high and strained in the back of your throat, like a cornered prey animal about to be gnashed between the foaming jaws of a predator, and maybe that’s what he is, maybe he’s a sick fuck because it makes him so fucking hard when you do that

rick grimes who wasn’t going to give you a fucking hickey, but now he’s given you five in places you couldn’t hope to hide without a turtleneck sweater and a thick scarf wrapped up to your ears, and he can’t stop himself, doesn’t want to, and if the way you’re panting and bucking and mewling for him means anything, he’d reckon you don’t want him to stop either

rick grimes who fucks you filthily, right there, against the wall, jeans halfway down his thighs, your skirt rucked up around your tummy, eyes spinning like pinwheels and drool silvering the corner of your ruddy, open mouth as he scuffs his teeth down, down, down, past your collarbones and into the soft give of your tits, because if you want fucking hickeys, he’s going to give you as many as he damn well pleases, wherever he damn well fucking pleases

rick grimes who cums in you, buries himself inside you so deep you choke on every thin sip of air you try to take, and your cunt spasms like it’s trying to push him out as he unloads, and he can feel it overflowing, can feel liquid heat welling around his cock and dribbling obscenely down your pretty thighs before it splatters onto the ground, and that should be enough, but oh, boy, it’s nowhere near

rick grimes who sets you clumsily back on your feet and catches you by the hips before you stumble forward, because he’s sunk to his (creaky, crackly) knees and hitched one of your legs up and over his shoulders so he can get straight to work sucking hickeys into the sinfully soft give of your lush inner thighs, and two of his thick fingers start methodically pushing his cum back into your drooling little hole, because it’s not enough to wear his marks on your skin, suddenly, you need to be wearing it on the fucking core of your being, as well

rick grimes who wrings one, two, three more orgasms out of you that way, who makes you cum until tears have mapped out a path down your red cheeks and pooled in the hollow of your throat, because your delicate pleas for mercy don’t change the fact that he’s decided your orgasms belong to him too

rick grimes, who in fact gives you so many fucking hickeys that daryl has the gall to look scandalized when he sees you next, like he played no part in the whole ordeal, and who’s selfishly, darkly, perversely thrilled about the way you tilt your head back and display your marred throat proudly, like you couldn’t be happier, grinning like the cat who got the cream

just. rick grimes

[musingsofheaven]

Say hello to killer!patrick zweig…

nsfw. stalking. murder (implied). sexual content. ♡

“Run as you might, my love will never, ever stop.”

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… saw you for the first time sitting on the far end of the bleachers with your friends, knees up to your chest, hood drawn halfway down your face, not even looking at the match. It hurts his ego that you are not interested in his match like your friends are. You were scrolling on your phone, alone, almost too still. Not bored- elsewhere. You barely reacted to the cheers. He looked over once. Then again. Then again. He looked at you every time he scored or missed. You weren’t watching, but he couldn’t stop watching you.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… saw you again by accident- face defeated, eyes rimmed red, standing in front of the vending machine in that same oversized hoodie. You looked like you’d been crying for hours. You look like a puppy, he thinks. He didn’t introduce himself despite spending his whole night stalking your Instagram. Just said, “You were at the match earlier, right?” like he hadn’t already stared too long from across the court. Like he didn’t want to brush your hair away from your face. You didn’t recognize him before turning your head to the side. That made him smile. He offered you a seat in the lobby. You sat. You gave him your Instagram without thinking. He’d already found it after his match and managed his way into your life and stuck with it.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… lets himself in with a key you forgot you gave him, sets his bag down like he never left. He visits your place every time he has the time from touring. He moves around your place like he’s lived there for years. Shoes off at the door, fridge already open, checking what you’re low on, or if you are taking care of yourself. You look up from the couch and he just grins, like this is normal. Like he’s always coming home to you, but you always come to him and hug his waist before telling him you miss him. He doesn’t announce himself. Doesn’t ask for permission. Just slides back into your life like he never left. You don’t even notice how quiet the lock clicks anymore.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… cooks breakfast shirtless and barefoot, flipping eggs while humming whatever song was playing in your last story. The sunlight hits his shoulders like it’s in love with him. He doesn’t ask what you want, he just makes it. You like initiative, he remembers of course. Knows how you like your eggs, what type of coffee, and which mug to use. When you wake up and walk sleepily, he kisses your temple without turning from the stove. “Sit down, baby. I got it.” You do. Because he always does.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… keeps your apartment cleaner than you do. He’s not saying you are not neat, but he helps make it better when he’s around. He doesn’t say anything- just picks things up, folds them, puts them back exactly how you like. He never complains. Never calls you messy. Just moves like he’s helping himself. Wipes down your counters with his sleeves pushed up. Refills your bottles. Replaces your razors, your toothpaste, your favorite snack- without asking. New stock since the two of you always go to the grocery and market when he’s around. You blink and your life is already tidied.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… holds you longer the night before he leaves- fingers splayed across your stomach, nose tucked into your shoulder. He always gets clingy. Always touching your skin. He doesn’t say he’s scared. He doesn’t say he’s sad. He just breathes, steady and slow, like he’s syncing with your heart rate. You feel his hand press tighter every time you shift. Like he’s trying to memorize your shape. He prefers staying here now rather than being in the court. Like he’s worried the bed will forget how to hold your warmth. You whisper assuring words like “you’ll be back soon,” and he nods against your skin like that’s enough.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… checks your Spotify activity like a pulse before you get together. But he still does it… just toned down now because he has already memorized your moods by now. What songs mean you’re upset, what albums mean you’re spiraling, what playlists mean you’re in someone else’s bed. He doesn’t like those ones. Thankfully he’s the only one now in the picture. He never says anything. Just watches. Learns. Screenshots when something feels off. Texts “you okay?” like he didn’t already know the answer to his question.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… scrolls through your friends’ posts just to see how you laugh when you’re not looking at him. He knows now who the ones are always beside you. The ones who are quiet in the corner. He zooms in. Examines your posture, your proximity, and your smile. Notes whose hand is on your lower back. He’s not jealous- just observant. You think he doesn’t care about social media. But he checks more often than you do. And he saves the ones where your smile looks the most real.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… unlocks your laptop when you’re in the shower- just to peek. He might always do that since he had access to your place. But he doesn’t stay long. He knows it’s risky. Just enough to see your open Notes, your tabs, your folders of photos. The things you keep private but not password-protected. He tells himself it’s not invasive. Just a safety check. Just assurance. Just love. He logs out and wipes the fingerprints off the spacebar like he was never there.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… jerks off to your selfies with the brightness up, whispering “mine” into his hand like you’d forgive him if you knew. (It was one of his ways to help himself to the feeling when he's still not your someone.) He finishes too fast. Always does. You’re not even naked- just just enough skin to your chest, your thighs, just you. It doesn’t matter. He wants you the most when you’re soft. When you look like you don’t know what you do to him. And sometimes, he thanks you and says he loves you under his breath when he’s done.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… fucks you on the third date (after months of getting to know each other) like he’s waited his whole life for it. He’s quiet about it. Focused. Almost careful. Like your body is something sacred he’s finally been allowed to touch. Like it’s a rare antique families can’t let go. “Mine now, yeah?” he asks, hips pressed deep, voice low and steady. You say yes because it feels good. He hears it like a vow while his lips are peppering your neck with soft licks and kisses.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… eats you out like a ritual- on your back, legs over his shoulders, face buried, moaning against your cunt like he’s being saved. He takes his time. He's an eater, anyway. He gets pleasure from your reactions and the sounds you are making. So he his tongue slowly. Makes you beg without even meaning to. He grips your thighs like they’re anchoring him to earth. You forget your name halfway through. He doesn’t. He just tightens his hands on your flesh. He murmurs it against you like worship.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… fingers you while you try to read, whispering “just one more, baby. I’ll let you finish after.” He says it sweetly. Like a promise. He even pouted while his hand was already pressing on you. He says promises that made you agree. But his hand stays between your legs for an hour. You never make it past the page. You stop pretending after a while. Let your head fall back with your book covers on your face and let him win.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… wakes you up with his cock already inside you. He doesn’t say good morning. Just “needed you.” His thrusts are slow, sleepy, desperate. He is more clingy when he manages to convince you to come with him when you have a break. His hand grips your waist like he’s afraid you’ll fade. You moan into the pillow and he kisses your spine. Says “sorry,” but keeps going anyway. You let him because he feels good, because he will cook after, and shower you with sweetness that always gets you, and because you are not always together.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… never asks for details. He doesn’t press. Doesn’t pry. He just listens. Just watches your face when you talk about him- your ex, your old friend, whoever’s bothering you now. He studies the reaction. Make a note. Their name, yeah that. He doesn’t need to know why they hurt you. Or what kind of trauma they put you through? But he just knows they won’t get to do it again. Not when he's here.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… handles things like its research. He’s not messy. Not impulsive. Takes time to get it right. Just patient. Quiet. Careful. If something has to be fixed, it gets fixed. If someone needs to disappear, it will disappear. Efficiently. Eventually. You sleep better after- he always makes sure of it.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… texts “you okay?” at the exact moment the problem disappears. Like he knew. Like people already know that the problem vanished. Like he planned the timing for your comfort. You text back “Yeah, weirdly.” He smiles. Goes back to stirring the sauce. Wipes his hands on a towel. Hums to himself while the pasta boils and prepares for dinner he will bring later.

Killer!Patrick Zweig who… would do it again. Would do worse. Anything for you. Anything to make you safe. He doesn’t need a reason anymore. All it takes is a look on your face he doesn’t like. A voice raised too sharp. A name mentioned one too many times. You’d never know. You’d just be able to breathe easily.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[lipstickchemtrails]

simon riley x reader

You make me cum so hard I feel like I go cross-eyed.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head. I felt like I couldn’t see straight with my legs wrapped around him and his hands anchoring my hips, guiding my movements in a frenzied pace. Yet, the space between us was simply too much.

I needed you closer.

The press of his chest against mine didn’t last very long before he replaced it with his lips and tongue. Not that I would ever complain as my hands instinctively sunk into his hair and pulled him into me.

The sharp smacks of his palms left my cheeks bruised the prettiest shade of pink I know he adores before sliding under me and lifting me up. I clung to him as he spun us, feeling weightless in his arms. He answered my surprise with a smile, one that I see even when I close my eyes, while I found myself beneath him.

“You like that, don’t you?”

His words were a caressing breath tinged with amusement as he settled on top of me and picked up the pace.

“Fuck,”

Never has a word sounded so delicious coming from his mouth, especially when he repeated it like a prayer while he lost himself in me.