#i made this against my will this is grey's fault

[theostrophywife]

if u have time could u do theo taking care of a drunk reader?? thank u sm ❤️

here (in your arms).

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: here (in your arms) by hellogoodbye.

author's note: in a soft fluffy theo mood. don't text.

The boisterous sounds coming from the common room party filtered through the empty corridor of the boy's dormitories, making you sway to the beat of the music as you lifted your fist to the door. You rapped against the wood three times—your signature knock to let your best friend know that it was you on the other side.

You stepped back as the door swung open, revealing a disoriented Theo. His ruffled hair flopped over his eyes, the brown waves slightly flat on the right side, which you knew was his preferred side to sleep on. A twinge of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched the sleepy boy before you, his Chudley Cannons sweatshirt and light grey lounge pants indicating that you had probably interrupted his slumber. A rarity, given that your best friend suffered from insomnia more often than not.

Rubbing his eyes, Theo adjusted to the darkness of the hallway and glanced down at you. In your tiny little dress, you shivered in the cool air of the dungeons, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to chase away the goosebumps.

"Hi Teddy," you whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"You did, but I don't mind." Theo said softly, rubbing up and down your arms to provide some much needed warmth. "What are you doing still up?"

"Pans convinced me to play another round of beer pong," you confessed. "You should have seen us. We obliterated the boys. Malfoy threw a fit."

The silly giggle that you covered behind your hand made Theo smile. If your constant swaying wasn't enough of an indication that you were currently inebriated, the deep red flush on your cheeks, neck, and arms told Theo all that he needed to know. You were absolutely sloshed.

"I'm sorry I missed it, dolcezza." When your body temperature refused to thaw, Theo shrugged off his jumper. For a brief moment, you caught a glimpse of his toned stomach, his olive skin glimmering in the dim lighting. You bit your lip, averting Theo's gaze. Luckily, he was too preoccupied with pulling the jumper over your head to notice. "Come in, let's get you warm, yeah?"

"Mmkay," you murmured in agreement. You trailed behind Theo, almost knocking into the doorway until he laced his fingers through yours, guiding you inside his dorm.

"There's a door there, amorina."

"Don't make fun, Teddy." You huffed, pouting as you followed closely behind. "Your room's too dark. How can you even see anything in here?"

Theo chuckled. "Sure, let's blame the lack of light instead of the fact that you're smashed."

"Am not," you countered, plopping onto Theo's large, plush bed. "I'm perfectly sober, thank you very much."

"Fine. Then who was the Minister of Magic during the Goblin Rebellion in 1752?"

"There were two ministers at the time. Boot was in office first, then he resigned due to mismanagement. Basil Flack replaced him." You smirked at your best friend, feeling rather smug. "Just because I'm bevvied doesn't mean that you'll catch me lacking, Theodore."

Theo raised a brow. "So you admit you're drunk?"

"You tricked me!"

"Guilty as charged." Theo admitted, plopping down right next to you. "So, did you bail on the party just to hog my bed?"

"It's not my fault that yours is much more comfier than mine," you mumbled, cocooning yourself underneath his comforters. "Plus, the party wasn't as fun without you there. I needed my partner in crime."

"I thought you'd be glad that I studied for the History of Magic exam instead of getting shitfaced. You're the one always telling me off about partying too much."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually listen."

"It's you," Theo said with a smile. "Of course I listened."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Theodore Nott is more responsible than me."

A smile tugged at your best friend's lips. "Well, one of us has to be. You're a mess, Y/N," he teased. "But you're my mess."

"As if that's not the pot calling the kettle black."

Theo chuckled as you buried yourself in his blankets, hiding from him entirely. He snuck underneath the covers and scooted closer until you were face to face.

"Hello," Theo whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and hugged you liked he hadn't seen you all week. "I've missed you quite terribly."

"It's only been a few hours, Teddy." You replied, giggling as you brushed his hair back. It was getting so long, but you loved how soft and fluffy his locks felt as you ran your fingers through it.

"Says the girl who snuck into the boy's dorms to see me."

"Okay, so maybe I missed you too."

"That's what I thought."

You stayed intertwined for a moment, your hearts beating in sync as you clung onto one another. When you yawned, Theo patted your leg. "Come on, love. Let's get you ready for bed."

"But I'm already comfy," you whined, burying your face in his chest.

"I know, amorina. But you'll feel so much better after you've washed your face." You pouted in response. "I promise I'll make it quick. Then we can cuddle, okay?"

You nodded. "Okay, Teddy."

Theo smiled before giving you a piggyback ride to his private bathroom. Setting you down on the counter, he pulled out the makeup wipes that he kept in the drawer for this exact reason. You swung your legs in the air as he wiped the foundation off your face. With his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, you'd never seen Theo so concentrated.

You grinned and pinched his cheek. "You're so cute when you're focused."

He quirked a brow as he helped you wash off the remnants. "Only when I'm focused?"

"No, you're cute all the time. It's infuriating." You lamented as Theo patted your face with a face cloth. He hummed, spreading serums and moisturizers on your skin like he'd seen you do a thousand times over.

"Oh? Care to share?"

"Hmm," you hummed, leaning into his touch. "I think it's cute when you hook our pinkies together in the hallway so I don't get overwhelmed by the crowd. Or when you get crumbs all over your face and grin like a little kid when I catch you raiding my cookie stash. Or how your eyes light up when we're watching the stars at night."

"You noticed all of that?" Theo asked softly.

"It's you," you answered, mirroring his words from earlier. "Of course I noticed."

The shy smile on his face made your heart flutter. "For the record, I think you're cute too. I think you're the cutest girl I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Sounds like you have a crush on me, Teddy."

"I have for the past six years. Thanks for finally noticing," he said with a chuckle.

You groaned, burying your face into his neck. "Don't say that to me when I'm drunk. What if I don't remember it tomorrow?"

Theo kissed the top of your head and carried you off to bed. "Then I guess I'll just have to remind you in the morning, love."

With a grin, you kissed the tip of his nose. "Thanks for taking care of me, Teddy."

Theo smiled. It was so beautiful that your heart ached to bear witness to it. As he tucked you into bed and wrapped his arms around you, the boy that you loved pressed a kiss to your temple and spoke a promise into the night.

"I'll always take care of you, Y/N."

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

[lizslibrary]

Mirror

Summary: Reader is Bucky's next-door neighbor when they hear him having a nightmare. Reader helps him see his reflection in the mirror and reminds him that his scars are beautiful because they are proof that he survived.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the support on my last story, It gave me the courage to write a second one. The last fic I wrote was done in the first person so I thought I would try my hand in second person to see how it goes. Please let me know of any compliments or criticism that you have, it would really help a lot! 🤍

Warnings: Nightmare, PTSD, Bucky being insecure, self-deprivation (Bucky,) Crying, hurt/comfort.

Word count: 1339.

__________________________________

You awoke to the sound of screaming from across the hall, it didn't take long to figure out Bucky was having another nightmare. You prop yourself up on one elbow, rubbing your eyes as you adjust to being awake. Forcing yourself out of your bed, you open your door and step into the dimly lit hallway of your apartment building. You gently raise your fist and knock on Bucky's apartment door, hoping he'll answer.

Not long after, the door creaks open and Bucky stands in the doorway looking disheveled and tired. He was wearing loose sweatpants, and his skin was gleaming with sweat. his eyes reddened and brimmed with tears yet to be spilled. You stare at him for a moment noticing how his long hair is sticking to the sides of his face, and how there were dark smudges under each eye.

"Bucky?" You say softly, almost as if he was a bomb waiting to detonate. "Can I come in?"

Bucky nods quietly, holding the door open a little wider. I look around noticing how messy his apartment is. Pillows and blankets were on the ground, and his boots were on two separate sides of the room, one leaning against the TV stand, while the other was in the corner. The only furniture in the room was a small, grey couch and a little coffee table that sat between the TV and the sofa.

Bucky stared at you silently, his eyes were dark. "I'm sorry I woke you." He said, his voice low and shaky.

You shook your head "Don't worry about it Bucky, it wasn't your fault." You say gently, sitting down on his couch and gesturing for him to sit next to you. "Are you okay?"

Bucky shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair "No" He says quietly, closing his eyes. "They won't stop, every time I try to sleep these nightmares keep coming back."

Your heart began to ache at the thought of Bucky suffering through these awful nightmares, night after night. You recall all the times when he would wake you up screaming, telling you how he had just dreamt about Hyrda, about how these visions of death and violence constantly haunt him.

"You don't deserve this Bucky." You say, observing the way he covered himself up with a blanket.

Bucky turned to face you "I'm a monster..." he said lowly. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Bucky closed his eyes tightly, and tears fell freely from his cheeks.

"No Bucky, you're not." You say, gently placing your hand over his shaking one. "Bucky, you've done nothing wrong, none of this is your fault."

He looked away from you, eyes falling to the floor "I know, but I still did it."

You sigh "Buck, listen to me." You say, keeping your voice gentle. "You were being brainwashed and manipulated. They made you do horrible things that you had no control over."

Bucky remained silent, letting out a deep breath before looking at you. "They ruined me Y/n, my body is filled with ugly scars." He said pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "When I go out in public little people, children even, are scared of my arm...It just reminds me of my past and what I've done." He says softly "Hydra ruined me."

You place your hand on his blanket-covered back slowly making circles with my fingernails. "Bucky, you are the kindest most handsome man I've ever met, your past does not define your present." You say, "You have gone out of your way to protect and take care of me even before we became close."

His cheeks tinted pink "Y/n...thank you." He whispered, taking a deep breath "But-"

You stop him "No buts Bucky." You say firmly "Can I show you the Bucky that I see?" You take his hand, pulling the blanket off his back, and leading him gently into the bathroom turning him so that he can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What do you see when you look at yourself?" You ask, keeping your voice soft.

Turning his head away from the mirror, Bucky swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he took a deep breath. "Scars..." He mumbled, unable to meet your gaze.

You nod, rubbing his back "Anything else?"

Bucky peers back to the mirror, his eyes landing on the scar tissue that connects his shoulder to his vibranium arm, he clenches his jaw and grips the sink tightly.

Your gaze is soft as you watch Bucky look at himself, with sorrow and pain. He doesn't reply as he turns away from the mirror, dropping his head in shame.

"Listen to me bucky..." You say, standing next to him in the mirror "Your scars are beautiful."

He glances up at you "How could they possibly be?" He asks, fighting back the tears that welled in his eyes.

You smile warmly "Because you fought your way out of hell, you persevered through torture and you lived; they are a reminder that you survived." You tell him, your eyes never leaving his. "You are the strongest, most beautiful man I have ever met." You say, turning to face him.

Bucky wipes his eyes quickly, inhaling sharply. He stares at you a moment before letting out a deep breath "Thank you..." He whispers, averting his eyes once more.

You squeeze his hand lightly "You don't have to thank me." You say softly. "You deserved to hear it."

Bucky stares down at you, his glossy eyes filled with gratitude, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a tight hug. You wrap your arms around him in return, feeling the tension seep from his body. He sniffles "I don't deserve you doll." He whispers, bringing his forehead to rest against your shoulder.

"No, you deserve more."

You weren't sure why, but you felt like you needed to be persistent in reminding him that he was worthy of love and affection, regardless of what happened in his past.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." He breathes, bringing his hand up to your head and running his fingers through your hair.

With a contented sigh, you let your fingers glide over Bucky's skin, tracing his muscles and spine. He shudders under your touch, tightening his grip around your waist. He leans into you, his forehead resting on yours.

"It feels good to hold you." He murmurs, pushing his nose against your cheek.

You smile against his chest "That's sweet Bucky, feels good to hold you too" You murmur.

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, a light tickle brushing against your ear. You reach up, running your hand through his silky hair, gently combing it out of his eyes. You tilt his head up so that his eyes meet your own.

"Are you ready to go back to bed?" You say, staring into his eyes. You could tell that he was tired, his pale blue eyes looking dull and heavy.

He nods slowly, resting his chin against your shoulder before pulling away and walking into his room "Yeah." He mutters.

You turn around, walking back into the bedroom. As you shut the door behind you, you hear Bucky sigh as he climbs onto his bed. You walk over to the bed and sit down, facing Bucky.

He closes his eyes and lets out a long exhale "Thanks for talking to me sweetheart...You didn't have to stay up this long." He says, his voice cracking slightly.

You run your fingers through his hair "Don't worry about it Bucky, I wanted to." You say, leaning forward and kissing his forehead "Goodnight."

Bucky stares at you, looking at you as if he is trying to memorize every feature.

"Y/n?" He asks barely audible.

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay here tonight?" He says, his voice hoarse.

A small smile appears as you walk to the other side of the bed and gently crawl under the covers. immediately, Warmth envelops you as you settle into the blankets. You take a deep breath, feeling the heat from Bucky's body beneath the blankets. You lean forward, bringing your lips to his temple.

"Goodnight Buck." You murmur.

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart," he whispers softly, drawing you close to his chest as he drifts into the first peaceful sleep he has had in years.

[writemekpop]

Stolen Kisses | Lee Taeyong

Summary:  Sneaking off to have sex is tough with a kid in the house.

Genre: Husband!Taeyong, domestic AU, fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” 

Taeyong’s breaths were hot against your ear.

With a pre-schooler in the house, you didn’t have a lot of time to be intimate. Whenever you had the chance, you were on each other like teenagers.

He was lying on top of you, arms either side of your head, biceps bulging with the effort. 

You were lying beneath him, stark naked. Only a thin sheet covered you both. 

You secretly loved sneaking around with Taeyong. It made you feel alive. 

His hips were rocking against yours at a sinful pace. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. 

It was crazy to have sex at 5pm, when your daughter was down for her nap – but after Taeyong spent the whole of lunch with his eyes gazing suggestively into yours, winking whenever your daughter wasn’t looking, you couldn’t resist.

Taeyong looked at you like he was a starving man, and your body was the only food.

You turned your head to the side. That’s when you noticed two wide brown eyes staring at you from the dark. 

You yelped. 

Taeyong’s body stiffened. He lifted his head and followed your gaze. When he saw what you were looking at, he swore. 

It was Yumi, your four-year-old daughter. Her purple tie dye pyjamas were crumpled, her face was puffy with sleep, and her black hair was a bird’s nest. 

“Mommy, daddy, what are you doing?” 

You froze. This was your worst nightmare - worse than when you walked out with your school skirt tucked into your panties, with the entire high school sniggering at your exposed butt. 

Taeyong smoothly got up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around his lower half. He pulled the duvet over your naked chest. 

Normally, you were calm in a crisis, and Taeyong was the flustered one, but today, it seemed you had switched. 

Taeyong smiled in a way a schoolteacher might. “Daddy and mummy are having some grown up time. Go to your room sweetie, we’ll be there in a minute.”

The little girl looked at Taeyong, and then at you. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, said “okay”, and padded away. 

You didn’t realise that you’d been holding your breath this entire time. 

You exhaled, feeling dizzy. “Holy shit. Do you think she… saw anything?” 

Taeyong smiled softly. “She’s four. Even if she saw something, she’s not going to know what it means.”

You watched him as he put on his grey sweatpants. You admired his lean yet muscular form, and the many small tattoos that graced his skin. You thought about how much you wanted to kiss them, but then your daughter’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, and you grimaced. 

“How are you so calm about this?” 

Taeyong smiled wistfully, eyes staring off into the distance. “This happened to me once before.” 

You frowned. “When?” 

Taeyong pulled his hand through his silky hair. “Um… my ex’s kid once walked in on us, you know… doing it… on the couch. So I know exactly what to say – it’s a grown-up hug, privacy is important, it’s not your fault, blah blah blah.”

You scowled. You knew Taeyong had had lovers before you, but you didn’t like to be reminded of it.  

Taeyong grinned and stroked your arm reassuringly. It was like he could read your mind. He always knew when you were jealous. 

“Come on, momma.” He purred. “Let’s go and reassure our girl, then we can finish what we started.” 

You bit your lip. Taeyong was a hard man to resist.

--- 

After twenty minutes of comforting your daughter, she finally went to sleep. 

You and Taeyong went back to your bedroom, hand in hand.  

You groaned and leaned your head against his sculpted shoulder. “That was so embarrassing. We are never having sex again, like ever.��� 

Taeyong chuckled, deep and manly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and placed long, opened mouthed kisses on your skin that made your entire body buzz. 

“I’m sure I can convince you.” 

—

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[teasteeper]

toxic ex bf!seungcheol

18+ minors dni, f!reader, mean!cheol, cheating, smut

cheol either answers your texts immediately or leaves you on delivered for weeks, making you feel like nothing but one of the hundreds of horny, desperate girls in his dms. luckily he's feeling generous enough tonight to lend you his precious time, following up your 'hi' only seconds later.

'miss me?'

god, he makes you feel dumb- as if the majority of your conversations don't start with him texting you first, asking if you're home. in reality, you're all he thinks about, whether he's had too much to drink or not nearly enough, balls deep in some girl or all alone in his apartment. he's indulging himself tonight and he'll regret it later, feeding into your unhealthy dependence on him that's all his fault. he knows he's terrible to you and it kills him, because you deserve the best- everything that he's not.

'no'

'funny. tell me what you want'

'ugh. never mind'

'i'll be there in 10'

he takes 20, standing at your door wearing a hat low over his eyes, fresh-looking pinkish hickeys standing out on his pale neck against the tight black compression shirt stretched over his thick shoulders. the bruises make your stomach churn, trailing your eyes down his pumped chest and lingering on the obvious bulge of his cock against his grey sweats. "are you gonna let me in or just keep staring, dummy?"

his rough hands are all over you, one on your waist while the other cradles the back of your neck. your neck is bent nearly all the way as he cranes his head down to push his tongue deep into your mouth, humming out a pleased sigh when you stick your tongue out for him. making out lewdly with the wet muscle, pulling away to watch his spit drip down your bottom lip to your chin. his stiff cock pushes against your tummy as he walks you backwards to your bedroom.

cheol pushes you to lay on your bed and slaps your knees apart, crawling between your thighs. his thick eyebrows inch upwards as he spots the framed picture of you and your boyfriend on your nightstand. "does he know i fuck his girlfriend on the regular?"

"shut up" you groan, pushing your flimsy pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, whining for him to do the rest when they reach your knees.

"tsk. use to be such a good girl f'me"

"yeah, well, maybe you made me bad"

his eyes darken as you pull your top over your head and let it fall to the floor, revealing hickeys of your own, deep purple marks all over your tits and chest and trailing up your neck and shoulders. you're looking at him like you're already fucked out, pupils wide behind your lashes and cheeks flushed, your lips puffy and wet from his harsh kisses. maybe you are fucked out. maybe the man in the picture was just here in your bed with you. if so, you're just as bad as him, cheol thinks to himself.

if you have been fucked today then cheol can't tell, hissing through his teeth as he sinks his cock into your tight cunt. "y'feel like a fucking virgin- fuck-"

he holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you, mostly for the angle that lets him hit that sweet spot inside you over and over, partly to cover those damned hickeys on your chest so he can't see them. his big hands are rough on the back of your thighs, veins bulging in his thick neck and abs tightening and he slams his hips against your ass. he hooks his thumb into your cheek and pulls, pushing down on your jaw so your tongue lolls out, drooling down your cheek as your eyes roll back into your head.

"you just fucking take it" he grunts, spreading your pussy with his thick fingers to watch your hole gape around his cock. "he doesn't fuck you right, does he, baby?". he's rambling now, feeling stupid and dizzy as your slick drips down his heavy balls and splashes his lower tummy, "cum on my cock- squeezing me so tight"

his thrusts grow heavy and messy as he fucks his cum into you, pulling back to watch it spill from your pretty cunt with his jaw slack and buff chest heaving. you look so pretty and fucked out under him, wide eyes looking up at him with drool all over your swollen lips, “look how stupid i make you, hm? y’still with me?”

he brings his hand up to your face intending to tap your cheek, choking back a gasp when your jaw drops open, ready to take his fingers in your mouth, “fuck- what the fuck- did i really make you that dumb?”

when all you do is let out a weak whine, knitting your brows together, he swipes his thumb through the drool on your cheek before pushing it past your lips to rest on your warm tongue. cheol just watches as your breathing steadies, eyes fluttering closed as you drift off, suckling around his thumb. he tries not to wake you as he lays down beside you, propped on one elbow. he’s being selfish, indulging in how soft and pretty you look, feeling like his with his thumb in your mouth and his cum dripping from your cunt, before slipping out of bed and redressing, giving your sleeping figure one last look before he leaves.

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1. Part 2 : When all had fallen

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Next >

You remember 2015 as if it was tattooed to your brain. This was the year when cracks had started to appear in the Mercedes motorhome.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was all victories and celebrations — through what appears to be years of dominance ahead. However, destruction and chaos loomed between the walls of the 2 garages. The dispute between the drivers is growing gnarly and what was supposed to be kept on track was seeping into the personal lives of the people involved.

Lewis and Nico were ready to slit each other’s throats when given the permission and command. Moreover, the management did not give a damn about the rapidly growing hostility, for as long as one of them won . No, Mercedes didn’t care. And you saw how it affected not only the drivers , but the entire pit.

A person cannot forget a lifetime’s worth of friendship that easily. You saw it with your own two eyes , how the loss of friendship killed a part of Lewis and all you could do was sit there and pull him close into your embrace.

Paranoia had started to claw its way into Lewis’ mind; wondering if his teammate and Mercedes were teaming up against him.

You could do nothing to help, because you were going through the same exact thing. Not as Lewis’ partner, but as his race engineer. You cannot lie to yourself, and most importantly you cannot lie to Lewis and say that no dirty cards were drawn — because you know for a fact that several team calls were given without your knowledge or permission that had led to losses and misjudgments. You cannot deny foul play … not when Monaco 2015 happened.

“Lewis, you have a 21-second gap on Rosberg. Tires are good, keep that pace” You radioed towards Lewis as you monitored the data on the car.

“Copy, what lap are we? “ Lewis radioed back

“Lap 64, Lap 64 of 78. Keep your head down, A race win is projected, I repeat, a race win is a project— RED FLAG, RED FLAG! ” Just as you were talking, the signal for a red flag had lit and you and your team were informed of a crash.

Quickly gathering the information, you rallied it towards Lewis.

“Slow the car down, Red Flag, Red Flag. A safety car is deployed. Lewis , lay low and keep those tyres warm” You mentally cursed as what appeared to be a 21-second advantage for Lewis was no longer there.

“What happened?” Lewis questioned

“Verstappen and Grosjean touched on turn 1. Verstappen is out. “ You echoed

“Fuck! My pace was good. Are they ok though? Who was at fault?”

“I will get back on that, the stewards are now discussing” you replied.

Your eyes were focused on the data that was on your screen when suddenly at the corner of your eye you saw an engineer discretely say something to Bonno.

A look of apprehension clouded his features. And he sent you a look of remorse as he pressed what seems to be your mic connection to Lewis’ car. Horror ate your entire being as you realized what was about to happen.

Before you could do anything else, Bonno had radioed to Lewis.

“BOX, BOX “

Your world froze entirely, as absolute terror gave you whiplash. Rage consumed you and you stood from your chair not caring for the mess you’re making as you made your way towards Bonno and gripping his polo forcefully towards your height.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” You screamed at Him, now the other engineers tried to hold you back — but not before you could land a solid punch at him. Fuck HR, they could fire you for all you care.

You once again tried to claw at him, when you heard the confused voice of Lewis in your abandoned earphones.

Elbowing your way out of their grip, you placed the headset back on your head and reconnected to Lewis.

“ Y/N? Why did they tell me to box? Where were you? “ Lewis’ voice held so much confusion and doubt that it broke your heart.

“Lew, I - “

“ Y/N you said my tires were good. Why was told to box? Why am I boxing? “ Lewis countered before you could even answer.

You knew that Lewis had just lost his win. And you felt like it was somehow your fault.

“Lew … I'm sorry”

And just like that, Nico Rosberg had won the Grand Prix. While you lost the trust in every person in your motorhome and you gained contempt back.

After that incident, you had developed severe mistrust and it has led to nightmares and unhealthy amounts of alcohol. And only Lewis could break your cycle.

It was truly you and Lewis against everything. Or that was what you thought. Because , you didn’t know that Lewis has been fed false information about what happened, where everything was pinned on you.

Without your knowledge, Lewis’ trust in you had also formed a crack and doubt had nested itself in his heart.

No matter how coarse and dreadful , life still ensues and you are forced to move on — and continue with your life. Lewis had won another world championship.

It cant be denied that the prestige and glamour that the title brought has broadened opportunities for Lewis . Yet ,no one can argue that this has also broadened the target behind Lewis’ back.

And it had shown during 2016, Nico Rosberg was adamant about winning and he had done everything in his power to achieve his goal.

And painstakingly, Nico had won the title. Then not long after he announced his retirement.

Nico Rosberg has left Mercedes … and what did this mean for Lewis? Admittedly you were relieved by Nico’s exit; this meant the tension in the motorhome had been dissipated. You were no longer worried that the 2 Merc drivers were going to kill each other on track.

This meant, that you and Lewis could finally figure out what was between the two of you. You two could finally grow and develop your relationship. A relationship that wasn’t surrounded by anxiety and work . You could finally re-approach the promise that Lewis swore to you a year before.

He promised that he would rectify the contracts so that we didn’t need to stay in the shadows.

However, time continues to pass, days become weeks weeks become months and months become years.

It was now 2020, Lewis was experiencing what the title of Formula 1 Champion brought. He won another championship. And Lewis was living the life! And you had your moments too. You could proudly say that you are now a well sought after race engineer — with Race teams serving job offers left and right. But you have always declined , even if you so badly wanted to leave Mercedes… because you stayed where Lewis was.

4 years had passed, but you were still at the very beginning. You still waited for Lewis to make do his promise.

But as you gazed at him looking so alive and carefree as girls littered at his side while the music blasted in the bar.

The music was deafening,yet all you could hear was the pounding of your heart, as you felt the vile rush up to your mouth at the sight of your boyfriend holding another woman. And you could do nothing because to the world you were just his race engineer. Even after everything you sacrificed, you still cannot claim and shout to the world that Lewis Hamilton was yours.

Tears had started to drop from your eyes. As you felt the warm liquid run down your face , you felt a soft material in your hand. Looking down it was a handkerchief.

“ Pretty race engineers shouldn’t cry” A cold voice caught your attention, as you looked up to Blue cerulean eyes.

“Hi, We haven’t formally met. I’m Max” A smile graced his features, softening his usually cold appearance

“I don’t think we have. Well then, Hi Max! My name is Y/N. It is so nice to meet you”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @itslagumi

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

[gurugirl]

The Amateur | Special Preview

sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn

New Patreon exclusive short series preview! Part 1 out now on Patreon!

Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.

Preview Word Count: 1.7k

Her costume was lost or had never been ordered. She wasn’t sure. So, instead of having her first dance routine that night, she was booked to serve cocktails for a private party. Not how she envisioned her dance career progressing, but a job was a job. She needed the money. She needed to eat.

She was given a basic outfit to serve cocktails in. There were four cocktail waitresses. The little outfit was a bit showy for such a job, but she wouldn’t stick her nose up at it.

She curled her hair and pinned the front back and applied makeup. She adjusted her little outfit and tugged at the hem of the skirt. It barely covered her bottom. The tall heels were a touch too small for her feet but she took deep breaths and kept calm. The private party was in a large room (not the main room) with a small bar, some tables, and a stage.

She stood toward the entrance and watched the room get set up.

When the guests who’d booked the private party arrived, Y/n took her spot as directed and saw a group of ten men with nice suits and big attitudes walk in.

She immediately walked up to the table assigned to her and smiled brightly, “Welcome! Can I get you started off with a drink gentlemen?”

There were three tables for the guests and four cocktail waitresses spread amongst them.

Two beers, a whiskey neat.

Back and forth.

A round of shots for the group.

Water. Don’t forget the lemon.

No ice for the one with the grey suit and pink tie.

Her feet were killing her. She leaned against the bar and slid her shoes off for a moment of relief. The fucking things were an inch too high and a half inch too small, and she was struggling. She took a breather and watched over the table she was working. They had just gotten fresh refills and more water so they would be good for a bit.

The dancers on stage were having fun. Y/n could tell they were fill-ins. Not main stage worthy. Like Y/n, amateurs most likely.

Bethany put her hand on the bar next to Y/n, “Can you take my table their drinks? I need to go to the bathroom,” she told Y/n the order and ran off.

The bartender quickly got the order ready and Y/n reluctantly slid the borrowed heels back onto her feet. Somehow, the short rest for her feet only made putting the tight shoes back on worse. Her gait was affected. Her heels were blistered, and her toes were smushed in. She tried to maintain a natural stride on her way to the table but the only way she could stand to walk was to go very slowly.

“IPA?” She lifted the pint up and a man raised his hand as she placed the glass in front of him.

She handed off the drinks one by one and the last was a bourbon on the rocks. The only man who’d not yet been served was looking at her with anticipation of receiving his drink. She moved toward him and her attempt to not step fully down onto her heel had caused her to lose her balance and she dumped the whiskey onto the man’s nice suit.

She gasped and so did the man. Kicking her heels off she ran to the bar to grab towels and then back to the table.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, sir! This is my fault. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…” She got to her knees and placed the towel over the top of his thigh and looked up at his face with worry and noted his surprised smile.

She used her other hand to wipe the table as she blotted the towel over his thigh. She had not expected a smile from him.

“Don’t worry. Happens to us all. I don’t need you to pay for the dry cleaning either,” he said as he took the towel from her.

His voice was calm and deep. He sounded British. She stood up and stared down at the man and realized how kind he looked. His smile was genuine and the dimples poking into his cheeks were boyish and cute. He had crystal green eyes and broad shoulders. He was handsome. She was thankful that he was kind.

“I’m really so sorry, sir. I feel so bad. I’ll get another one for you and make sure to put all your drinks on the house,” she knelt down to pick up her heels and as she turned to go back to the bar the man gently grabbed her wrist, “Another bourbon is fine. You don’t need to comp any of my drinks, though. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

She looked down to where he had her wrist. He had rings along his long fingers. His hand was big. She looked back up to his face with a smile, “Are you sure?”

The man with curly brown hair smiled and nodded, “I’m sure.”

The rest of the night was far less exciting. When Bethany returned Y/n went back to her original spot. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the other table to the man who’d been so kind to her, even after she ruined his suit. He was attractive and it was clear to Y/n that Bethany also thought so. She gave extra attention to him. Anyone would.

When the guests had left and Y/n could put on her sneakers, the room got cleared and everyone went their separate ways. The club didn’t serve food, which Y/n had kind of hoped it would. She was hungry. She’d barely eaten anything all day long. Her day started off early trying to perfect the routine but then after hours of practice, she learned she wouldn’t be on stage because her costume was nowhere to be found.

Running back and forth in tight heels to serve liquor was just as tiresome as dancing on a stage. And being hungry on top of it all was brutal. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the club and to her car parked at the side of the building where all the employees parked.

“There you are!” The voice of a familiar-sounding man startled her.

Y/n jumped and lifted her head to find the British guy with the bourbon-stained suit approaching her. Her eyes widened. As nice as he seemed in the club, she was hesitant to give him her full trust at 1 am in a dark parking lot with no one else around.

The man stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry. I know you probably didn’t expect to see me, but I noticed you walking out and thought I’d just come and, I don’t know… maybe say hi,” he suddenly seemed more timid. Perhaps he realized how scary it could be as a woman to be approached by a man in this way.

Y/n gripped her keys tight and looked around. His soft smile put her at ease a little, “Yeah. I figured you guys all left already. I was just leaving for the night. Everything okay?”

Even in her alert state, she still wanted to make sure the man was all right. She was probably too nice for her own good.

His husky laugh sounded like relief in Y/n’s ears and it made her smile, “Everything’s fine. I was hanging back. I have a friend who works here. Just happened to see you leaving is all.”

Dimples.

Bright eyes.

Dark curls.

Tattoos, that she hadn’t noticed until now with his sleeves bunched up to his elbows.

He was attractive and his demeanor slowly put her at ease. She loosened the grip on the keys in her hand and finally smiled at him genuinely.

“Oh. Who do you know?”

“The owner. Richard. Short guy,”

“Bald,” Y/n spoke with a smile and Harry grinned back at her and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for years. Always lets me get in for a quick last-minute private party if I need. A lot of my colleagues enjoy the atmosphere.”

Y/n nodded and kept her eyes on the man. They both fell silent.

“Uh,” he lifted his hand up in a waving gesture and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Harry.”

Y/n’s smile widened, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and stayed in his spot on the other side of her little car. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting too close.

“So, guess you’re headed home, huh?” Harry looked at her little silver car and back to her.

Y/n nodded, “Yep,” she didn’t know what home meant but she would consider her car her home at the moment.

Harry looked down at his feet and back toward the car, “I uh, are you new here? I mean, I only ask because I’ve never seen you around.”

Y/n nodded, “First day. Was supposed to be in the main room on stage but my costume was never ordered or it was lost, or I don’t know… So they had me serving cocktails. I just need the money so I’ll do almost anything at this point,” she laughed and her shoulders relaxed a little more.

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned, “Understandable.”

The silence grew loud again and Y/n shifted on her feet. Suddenly the sound of her stomach gurgling in hunger filled in the space in between them and she laughed it off, “Wow. I should uh, go get something to eat.”

Harry kept the small frown on his face, “Well, there are plenty of places open. Vegas baby. Right?” He chuckled lightly, “I guess I should leave you alone, huh? So you can find a spot to grab a meal,” Harry spoke as he backed away from her car, and slowly headed toward the main parking area.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for being so kind to me on my first day,” she slid the key into her door to unlock it and kept her eyes on the man.

He nodded and put his hands into his pockets, “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. I’m around often.”

A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo

[dcxdpdabbles]

the photo au just has me thinking that lady gotham is shipping dead tired and i love it

(it's a change of pace from her shipping dead on main so that's cool too)

"King Phantom," Danny jumps, not expecting the raspy voice to call from the dark alley he was passing. He turns his gaze to the shadows, squinting as a woman made entirely of smoke and tar takes form, towering over him like the skyscrapers of her city.

His head barely reaches the knees of her dark grey dress. Her outline flickers in the air as if she is nothing but the smoke of a flickering candle about to be blown away.

Despite her aristocracy beauty- her high cheekbones, her smooth skin, and lovely dark curls that fall along her shoulders- her presence inspires a terrible amount of dread.

Around him, people continue to walk by, unable to see her but sensing her all the same. Danny quickly moves off the street, entering the alley of darkness- at once, the city's noise is silenced while the two power ghosts are muted in a safe little bubble.

"Lady Gotham," He greets, bowing his head slightly. It's not quite a nod, for that would be too dismissive of a noble lady, but it's not a complete bow, for that would mean she is higher ranked than he.

"How are you enjoying my domain, your majesty?" Lady Gotham breathes her voice, sending chills down his spine.

"It's lovely. My sister and I are truly enjoying exploring it. I particularly enjoy photographing the scenary." He says, keeping the unease out of his voice. Her black-painted lips pull upwards into a smirk as if amused by his attempt at diplomacy.

If there is one thing Danny has learned, it is that while he is the King Of Ghosts, that doesn't mean he has absolute power- politically wise. Many entities have domains for centuries that have, through those years, earned nobility status among the ghosts.

He couldn't just scorn the noble ghosts. Even Pariah Dark- the most potent ghost of all time- was defeated the first time when the nobles- later renamed Ancients- banned together to take him down.

Lady Gotham was not among those Ancients, but Danny knew she could quickly call upon her allies and dethrone him just as easily. If Danny is a King, she would be the Queen of a neighboring kingdom just gearing up for war if he fumbles his manners.

"Is it truly the scenery that catches your fancy? Surely, there are far prettier things to look at in my domain?" Lady Gotham's voice is soft, like the humming of a gentle river.

Danny blinks, thrown by the question. "I can't say I understand, my Lady. What pretty things do you speak of?"

She flips open a fan, hiding half of her face as her black coal eyes stare at him with an appraising glint.

Above them, a hiss of a grappling hook springs out, and Red Robin flips over their heads in pursuit of a fleeing car. Danny's finger twitched with the huge to pull out his camera and finally get a meme-worthy shot of the teenager.

Alas, he can not do so, for he is speaking to a ghost noble who could use his careless behavior against him at the next afterlife high society meeting.

Lady Gotham's eyes crinkle in amusement. "I speak of what I find amusing but what others find shocking. What can be entertaining but others call fascinating. After all, trying to capture one's faults is where true beauty is found."

Danny fights to keep his face pleasant even if he has no idea what she means. She speaks in riddles, at least. That's what it sounds like to him.

He should introduce her to Clockework. They would have a good time talking in circles around each other.

"That's an interesting outlook, my lady." He settles on. She hums, then snaps her fingers. In front of Danny, a paper appears, floating in swirls of smoke.

"My King, I have existed long before humans found this plot of land and bestowed the name Gotham onto me. Yet I find myself lacking in any solid evidence of my precious people. I can interact with their world, but I can never truly step into it. Especially the Waynes. They have done so much for me through generations, and I can't even greet them properly." Lady Gotham's words may sound sad, but her tone only implies amusement. Danny is instantly weary. "I was wondering if I could ask that you- the bridge between both worlds- would do me a favor to remedy this."

The paper floats closer, and on it, Danny can see it is an invention for the Wayne Charity Gala. His name is printed on the guest list, asking that he join them for his donations to the art programs around the city.

Danny never made such donations because the Fenton's are far from wealthy enough to do so. Lady Gotham was behind this, as she could interact with the world but not the humans. Getting money for the programs under his name would be child's play.

He couldn't say no, per the norms of high society, and he knows she is well aware of this. Lady Gotham has cornered him.

"What is the favor, My Lady?" He asks, pocketing the invitation even though his insides are twisting.

"I only ask for a photo of each current Wyanes." She says, her voice now the sound of falling rain on the city. "Each photo should be the of them individually, for it will be what I display in my lair as their portraits."

Oh, she just wants pictures? Danny could do that!

"Of course." He says, smiling easily up at her. "I shall have that done for you."

"Excellent. I shall await the gala with anticipation."

Danny leaves the alley wondering if he will have a suit nice enough for the event. He'll have to contact Kitty- she was raising fashion designer before her untimely death on Johnny's bike- surely she will know what to dress him in.

He wanders around the city for a few hours, trying to get better shots of the buildings and accidentally getting one of Nightwing mid-sneeze. He giggles at the camera, unaware of Lady Gotham sitting in her haunt in the dark clouds above the city, standing over a three-dimensional model of Gotham City and covered in figures of real-life citizens currently residing in her town.

"Hmmm, Jason hasn't had an embarrassing photo today," She mutters, pushing the figure of Red Hood in front of King Phantom's glowing figurine's path. Her gaze falls on Red Robin- her little Tim- as it moves across the city following the live model's movement.

His figure is also glowing, not nearly as brightly as the King's, but the fact it shares the King's glow means the King has unknowingly claimed him.

She hopes that pushing them together in his civilian forms will allow the two to realize their hearts have been given to one another.

"How romantic." She sighs, floating onto her stomach and kicking her feet. "A King in love with a Knight. Society pushes them apart, but their love will conquer all."

"Sister, must you behave in such a childish manner?" A voice cuts in, and Lady Gotham's face twitches. She turns her head to watch her brother's shift between adult and child.

"Brother. What brings you here?" She asks, unbothered by his comment.

"Can I not visit my dearest little sister?" Clockwork asks, reaching over for a one-sided hug. She returns it with a smirk. "Especially when she messes with the life of the King."

"I do not know what you speak of." She huffs, turning her head back to the humans on her board. Around her, thousands and thousands of miniature models appear as she watches everything that is meant to be for the humans.

"Karma, you know better than to interfere with King Phantom's life, especially if it's something as silly as his love life-"

"Ah ah, brother dearest. You are in charge of time, and I control fate. " She grins. "I can guarantee that they are fated to be. I know it."

Clockwork rolls his eyes, shifting into an old man. "You let humans call you Lady Gotham. I highly doubt you know anything."

She hums, grinning as King Phantom's figure drops into a crouch, pointing a mini camera at Red Robin. Quickly, she leans forward to adjust the vigilante in an alluring position, knowing it will cause the King's heart to flutter when he develops the photos.

Clockwork clicks his tongue. "Honestly, don't you have anything better to do?"

"You should leave your tower more often, Brother. Maybe you could find a date and not nag your younger sister constantly." She taps her lips. "That young John Constinune was rather interested in you-"

"I am leaving!"

She laughs. "You can't run away from fate, brother!"

"Watch me!"

Oh, she plans to; after all, what is more amusing to fate than to see people try to defy her? Either they succeed, which is fascinating to watch them conquer all her trials, or they fail, which is entertaining enough to watch them fumble.

Master Post Link

[yoonlattesworld]

Love me Noona: JJK Teaser

Synposis: he is a strange man. You've thought this since the first day you met him. See, there are countless of pretty freshman girls in your college. Some of them so pretty that it made you wonder if he's blind or something. Because despite so many beautiful girls of his age dying to be with him, he wasn't even glancing at them. Why? Because he, Jeon jungkook, the most popular freshman in your college, was interested in you, a boring senior who'd rather die than attend a damn party. So even though he was a strange man, hearing him say "good morning Noona!" became a part of your morning routine.

Genre: Noona romance, smut, fluff, angst, pairing fresh man koo with senior mc,college au

Warnings: smut, older reader, riding, bold koo, tattooed koo, flirty koo, mentions of fight, koo punching someone, raw sex, a little cum play, grinding, switch koo, will be updated with the one shot.

Author's pov

"I can't believe we're getting so many assignments even with the exams coming" yoona grumbled as she angrily typed in her laptop. At this rate the poor laptop will start crying too.

Sighing tiredly you made a noise of agreement while rubbing your forehead because of the forming headache. "Mr Kim is cruel" you mumbled taking another sip of your iced coffee as another whine left yoona's lips.

A frown made its way to your face as you realised that you drank the whole cup as the only liquid coming through the straw was a few drops of water of the melting ice. Standing up with another sigh you looked at your equally tired best friend "you want anything? I'm going to the cafe"

She immediately nodded and smiled gratefully as she took out her wallet "one hot coffee please. My treat" you hummed with delight, taking her card "thank you" blowing her a kiss you let out a small giggle as she blowed one back and turned around. While walking towards the gate of your college,you heard some commotion and looked towards the noise for a second to see people forming a crowd around someone.

Thankfully the line wasn't too long so you were able to come back quickly. Perhaps you were too quick to get back to your seat and finish the damn assignment because one second you could see yoona waving at you and one second all you could see greyness and-

"oh my-!" you gasped sharply as you collided in a firm chest causing you to stumble back as both the drinks spilled from your hand. Your eyes were clenched shut as you waited for your body to fall on the hard ground but instead you felt muscular arms wrapping around your waist and your hands flied to grip whatever they could.

As you came back in your senses, the first thing you heard was a heart beat, and the next thing you heard was a low chuckle "you okay there?" and the last thing you heard was a raspy voice which sent chills down your spin. Your eyes widened as you hastily stepped back, now noticing that you were in the arms of an unfamiliar man.

Feeling a rush of embarrassment you bowed your head "i-im very sorry-" as you looked up, your breath got caught for the second time as your eyes took him in. When you felt his muscular body against you, you were sure that his face would be on the rougher side. So you were very surprised when you found yourself staring at a pair of big doe eyes and a small bunny smile.

"it's okay. It was my fault too" he raised his eyebrows and for a second you thought you were looking at a small kid. But then you also realised that you had to crane your neck upwards to look at his face properly. Even in his grey t shirt you could see the outlines of his muscles. The way his arms flexed as he raised his hand towards you "jungkook. Jeon jungkook "

Your eyes widened slightly as you quickly looked away and judging by the small smirk hanging on his Lips, you're sure he caught you checking him out "y/n. L/n y/n" smiling softly you took his hand, staring at how his hand fully engulfed yours. For a second he didn't leave your hand and kept looking at you but when you cleared your throat, he smiled, his hand leaving yours.

"y/n l/n 3rd year" you looked at him questioningly as he mumbled to himself but then noticed that he was looking at the Id card hanging on your neck "so you're a senior " he mumbled yet again and you wondered if he was talking to himself or you.

You were surprised when he looked at you with a smirk. The soft doe eyed face completely disappeared and instead you mischief in his eyes which seemed to sharpen with his smirk "then...." you hummed smiling at him as you saw a few people looking at you both out of the corner of your eye.

"Good morning Noona. I look forward to getting to know you"

For some reason you wondered if the tilt in his voice was your imagination or not. Because right now he was looking at you with eyes so intense that you felt your heart beat increasing.

Still, you smiled yet again as you nodded "likewise, jungkook"

[luveline]

Sooo maybe you got this already but how about modern day remus hurt/comfort featuring the blue moon we just got?

tysm♡

You can't lie on top of Remus like you want to, but you can curl up by his side. The saying once in a blue moon has lost all of its charm —your poor boyfriend gets to suffer twice in one month. Not cool.

"You," you say, as though this is your entire sentence, distracted by the need to kiss his stubbly cheek, "are so handsome." 

"Stop buttering me up." 

"But I like to," you whine, laughing as he turns his head up to encourage another kiss on top of the first. You kiss him pink, his pale cheeks finally flushing with a little colour after days a peaky grey. 

Remus curls onto his side to match you, two halves of the same heart, chocolatey brown eyes a little darker in the morning light. He winces as he does, some newly stitched cut or bandaged bruise giving him trouble. 

"'Nother cup of tea?" you ask. 

"I think I'm full of tea, my love." 

He's much nicer after a full moon than before it. He tells you of teenage years spent screaming at the people who loved him to leave him alone, to do something, to put him out of his misery. You're thankful that these days he just get moody, like a bad case of premenstrual agitation, and then afterwards he's very sorry. You don't want anymore apologies from him today and you think he might be finished offering them, content to lie in the warm mess of his bed with you as you rub his sallow skin. 

"Shall we have a snog?" you ask. 

"Don't," he says, "don't even joke about it." 

You laugh softly at his upset and poke his cheek. "How terrible it must be for you to ache too much for a kiss. What if I do all the work?" you ask. 

"Maybe one," he says, murmuring as you lean down, "or two." 

You kiss his chapped lips gently. The room silent but for the brush of your palm against his face, he pulls in a breath at your touch through his nose, his lips parting a millimetre, maybe less. You use your elbow for leverage, careful not to lean on his sore shoulder as you pull away, turn your head, and dive back in, your noses bumping. 

You forget yourself when he touches your back. A shorter, startled sound bubbles at the back of his throat and you immediately recede. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," you say, eyes wide and checking him over. 

"It's just my arm, sweetheart. My fault." 

You take his hand resting at your back and put it back where it was on the bed. "This is why we don't kiss after a full moon," you say, more to yourself than him. You feel like you've dangled a carrot on a stick in front of him. "I'll make you more tea." 

He catches your arm before you can climb off the bed. "I'm fine! Stop worrying. And I really couldn't manage another if I wanted to. But if you want to make yourself one, please, do, and write it down on the chart." 

"I'm not writing a cup of tea down on the chore chart," you say. "How is that fair?" 

"Why wouldn't it be fair? I've made you zero cups of tea these last few days and you've made me twenty. I think I'll be making you tea all month to make up for it." 

You smile at him fondly. "Can I trade some tea in for less turns doing the dishes?" 

"We're not currently accepting trades, at the moment." Remus expends energy he doesn't have kissing your elbow. "...But I can make an exception. For you." 

You lay back down to give him ease of access. "You can just kiss my arm again and we'll call it square." 

[f1girliefics]

Gone with the Rain

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: He just wanted to go on a cute date with you, it wasn’t meant to end up in disaster.

When Lando said he wanted to take you out to a picnic, you were very excited.

It had been ages since you went.

You had been dating Lando for only six months now, so your relationship was still relatively new.

But you liked him to bits.

He was so sweet and caring.

He even prepared a basket! A BASKET!

How cute is that?! 

He had a nice big blanket and a basket, you were over the moon.

And the forest he took you to was very quiet and private. You loved it!

You took so many photos on your walk from the car to the field.

Your boyfriend couldn’t help but laugh at you, his laugh making you smile even more.

You helped him place the blanket down before you finally had the chance to sit down and enjoy the sun.

“This is so nice.” you said as you opened your eyes and looked at Lando who was now elbow-deep in the basket. He pulled out a couple of sandwiches, he handed you one. “You made these?” you asked.

“Of course.” his smile was contagious. 

“Thank you.”

You enjoyed the sun and the food he prepared, but mother nature had different ideas.

You only took a couple of bites when you felt the small drops of rain, you looked up at the sky and noticed the grey clouds.

“We should probably go.” you said and Lando agreed, both of you quickly picked up your blanket and basket and began walking back to the car.

However, again, fate had other ideas.

The rain came down quickly.

It was so harsh you two had to stop under a big tree for cover.

“We can wait it out.” you said as you leaned against the tree. Small drops of rain still managed to get through the leaves and you looked up with a smile.

“I’m sorry.” you looked at Lando. “Our date is ruined. I should have looked at the forecast… This is my fault.”

“Don’t be silly. I really enjoy the rain. I enjoyed the picnic as well.” you smiled at him before you saw a flash of lightning out of the corner of your eye. Then came the loud thunder.

It seemed you both realised that the tree you were under was not going to be a good long-term hiding place.

“I saw a building on our way here.” he said as he looked in the direction and indeed, he noticed a small abandoned building, it used to be a food place it looked like. 

You gave one nod to Lando who grabbed your hand and both of you ran towards the building.

You took cover under the porch, it was in bad shape, and you couldn’t see anyone anywhere. 

The roof had a couple of holes in it, allowing the rain to trickle down a little onto you. But you two managed to find a corner which didn’t allow the rain to get onto you more than you were already soaked.

You leaned against the wall of the building while you watched the water run down the roof and trinkle to the floor.

You failed to notice how Lando was looking at you.

More specifically at your lips.

And as you softly smiled and turned to look at him, he lost control.

Gently he pushed further into the wall as he leaned in. You were so caught off guard, that you pulled back slowly.

But as soon as his lips met yours, you calmed down. 

You let your hands move to his hair as you played with the strands while his lips and tongue explored yours.

He was undeniably a good kisser. 

And when one of his hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him, you let out a gasp into his mouth.

He giggled at your reaction and pulled back.

“You should bring me to more picnics,” you said after a moment of silence and finally opened your eyes to look at him. 

He had a soft smile and his eyes were still closed.

You pulled on the back of his neck and kissed him once again.

He didn’t object one bit, he let you take the lead.

You could smell the rain and him.

Nothing else mattered in the moment only his lips on yours.

But soon, the rain and the cold caught up to you and you shivered.

He must have felt it because he quickly pulled back and handed you his sweater.

The rain started to calm down a little, sadly.

“Let’s go to mine?” he asked and you nodded.

“Can we get food? Your sandwiches are… ruined.” you said as you pointed at the wet basket.

Lando had a quick glance.

“O-Oh, yeah. Let’s eat and…” he glanced down at your lips for a quick moment and you smirked.

“Yeah, we can kiss some more after, but I am hungry.” his eyes snapped back at your face before he laughed and grabbed your hand once more.

Both of you quickly ran to his car and then headed back to his place.

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[lowlights]

Hi. I'm back, and I wrote this in about an hour so be nice. This is 100% inspired by @ezrasbirdie's Twinkle and the very lovely dream it gave me. So this is Birdee's fault.

*

Perfect Fit

Frankie Morales x plus size f!reader // 1.3k

Warnings: Reader is a curvy lady with big titties and a belly, f receiving oral, mutual masturbation, cum eating, lots of praise, language, a smidge of insecurity but it doesn't last long, reader borrows Frankie's shirt, a very feral Frankie who has got it BAD for reader. Use of good girl and bebita. I also maintain that Frankie is a babbler during sex. Oh also Frankie is in sweatpants, which is a gift to us all.

*

The flickering lights of the TV lit up your face, an old rom-com from the '90s that you had seen a million times playing on the screen. You laughed at every joke, even though you could recite every line if asked. Frankie heard you mutter them under your breath sometimes, which he would have found annoying if it had been anyone else. Never with you though. 

He wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to the movie, though.

Not for the past twenty minutes at least. Not when you were wearing those leggings and his threadbare grey t-shirt which you had borrowed for the night. Frankie could barely drag his eyes away from how his shirt pulled tight on your gorgeous tits or how the hem had rolled up just enough to show your soft tummy. 

He felt like a pervert ogling you like a fucking teenager who could barely control himself, even though you had been dating for more than six months. He was allowed to ogle, but you had just had a week from hell at work and had been looking forward to a relaxing night at Frankie’s place. He could keep his hands off of you for a couple of hours so you could watch your favorite movie in peace. 

You shifted slightly on his brown leather sectional and leaned into him, tucking your legs up and under you. Frankie stiffened, and you noticed. Normally he would put his hand on your knee or his arm around your shoulder. Instead, his hands flexed as he straightened out invisible wrinkles on his sweatpants.

“You alright, babe?” You pushed a stray curl behind Frankie’s ear. You made a mental note to give him a haircut this weekend. You’d been putting it off; you liked his hair on the longer side. 

“Fine, fine. Just, uh- gonna go get a glass of water.” He stood up so quickly that you practically fell over. 

“I…okay?” you mumbled as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He was gone long enough for the movie to culminate with the big romantic kiss and the happily ever after, making his way back to the couch as you clicked off the credits. He settled back next to you but a little further away than before and stared straight ahead. 

Doubt gnawed at you. “Are you upset with me, Frankie? Is it because I made you watch this dumb movie again?” you asked softly, fiddling with one of your rings. The relationship was still new enough that you didn’t know how to read all of his emotions just yet.

His head whipped around. “What? No! Not at all, baby. I’m just- tired. You’re tired too, yeah? Should we go to bed?” His eyes darted down to your shirt, which made you realize how far it had ridden up. 

You pulled down on it out of habit, and Frankie frowned. “Are you sure?” you asked. 

Frankie shook his head. “C’mere,” he instructed as he helped you over to straddle his hips. You draped your arms around his broad shoulders, gasping slightly as he rolled his erection against you. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy, baby. Do you know that? Feel what you do to me?” 

“But I haven’t been doing anything?” You were genuinely confused. 

Frankie nuzzled his nose against your chest, breathing heavily. “You look so good in my shirt. Damn, it fits you just fucking right.” 

You cupped his face and pulled him up for a kiss, his tongue immediately begging for entrance. Frankie kissed you like it was his last chance, like you were the last gasp of air he would ever take. “This shirt barely fits,” you admitted when you both broke to catch your breath. 

“It’s perfect,” he said adamantly. “Don’t ever wear anything else.” 

You giggled and kissed him again before he lifted you off and leaned you back so you could stretch out on the chaise portion of the couch. He had fucked you more than once here in the months since he had bought it. A christening, he had called it, the night it had been delivered. 

Without a word, Frankie helped you shimmy out of your leggings and underwear, stopping to stare at you as he tossed them over his shoulder. You smiled, and felt powerful. No man ever looked at you the way Frankie had looked at you since the first night you met. He was enraptured, enthralled. And he looked like he wanted to feast on you. You bent one knee up and let it fall against the couch. His cock noticeably jumped, pressing against his sweats. 

“Oh fuck. Look at my girl, she looks so pretty.” Frankie settled on his belly and pulled your leg up over his shoulder. He left a trail of kisses up your inner thigh before softly kissing your cunt. He buried his nose against your curls and inhaled deeply. “Smell so fucking good for me.” 

Frankie wasted no time and licked a slow and tortuous stripe up your slit before flicking his tongue against your clit. He built a steady pace, pushing you to the edge and easing back over and over again. 

“Christ, Frankie, oh my- Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” you babbled as you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him against your cunt as it clenched around nothing. He licked up everything you gave him before standing up and ripping off his clothes, his cock bobbing as he stepped out of his pants. His chin was wet with your orgasm, and his pupils looked blown out. 

“Bebita, I need you to touch yourself. Rub that gorgeous clit, please? Please, baby,” he begged, stroking and squeezing himself as you gently rubbed circles on your sensitive clit. “Such a good girl, doing just what I ask.” 

His praise made something low in your stomach clench and you arched your hips up, eyes fluttering closed.

“No, bebita, look at me, please. Lemme see those eyes. Yes, yes. Can you put a finger inside?” he practically begged, hand quickening over his leaking cock. 

“Yes, Frankie,” you shuddered as you exhaled, slipping one finger easily into your relaxed cunt. 

“Another, baby, please?” He moaned, never taking his eyes off you, as you complied and added in a second finger. He watched you move them in and out, snaking your other hand down to rub on your clit. “I’m so close, where- where can I? Quick, tell me.” 

You pulled your fingers out and spread your legs wide. “Here, Frankie, here.” The words had barely left your mouth before he was standing over you, one knee resting on the couch as he decorated your pussy with ropes of cum. You gripped his thigh and watched as he worked himself through his orgasm. He was always so pretty when he came, mouth open and dark brown eyelashes grazing against his cheeks. 

Frankie bent over to where you leaned against the cushion so he could kiss you, whispering praise between each breath and lick of his tongue. “Gonna get you cleaned up,” he said finally. 

You expected him to go get a washcloth from the bathroom - he always made sure it was nice and warm - but instead, he settled back between your thighs. “Frankie?” you squeaked as he started licking your inner thigh. 

“I said I need to clean you up, baby. Now take off that shirt and let me see those pretty tits?” He looked up at you with pleading eyes. You would do anything he asked, and in this moment he knew it. You tossed your shirt over your head and Frankie rolled your nipple between his thumb and finger as he dove back down between your thighs. 

“Good girl, always so good for me,” he hummed as he licked himself off of you. “Gonna make you come again on my tongue, then I’m gonna make you come on my cock. Gonna have you all night, bebita.” 

You threw your head back as he sucked gently on your clit. “All this because I wore your shirt?” you chuckled. 

Frankie was too busy to respond. But he made good on his promises that night. 

And always left the shirt out for you to wear whenever you wanted. 

[lovedazai]

LAUNDRY DAY

ft. nagi + gn!reader

you tiptoe down the hallway, socked feet quietly approaching nagi’s bedroom door.

waking up to his warm body against you and the sound of rain ricocheting off his window was so dreamy, you wouldn’t even know that you were awake if it wasn’t for your stomach, empty and angrily grumbling. the lingering scent of his freshly washed sheets and his calm breathing were almost enough to lull you back to sleep, but you managed to slip out of his grip, not leaving without kissing the tip of his nose.

when you open the door, nagi is just waking up. he’s managed to cocoon himself in his comforter, and he looks so cozy you almost wish you didn’t leave. his hair is a mess, and his nose scrunches in a way that makes you want to kiss him all over. his arm lazily reaches out to try to find you, whining when he realizes you’re not next to him.

when he rolls over and meets your gaze, his eyes brighten. it’s a rare sight, especially this early; you’re used to his sleepy pout and pleading eyes, begging for just five more minutes. he shifts onto his back, opening his arms in a wordless request. he groans when you jump on top of him but still curls an arm around you, pulling you closer as your thighs fall open to frame his body.

“you’re so cold.” he uses his free hand to pick his stray hoodie from the floor, where he’d thrown it off before collapsing into bed the night before. he sits up just enough to pull it over you, and you’re surrounded by the smell of his detergent; it’s the smell of early mornings wrapped in his sheets and late night laundry dates. your hair is strewn across your eyes from the force of the fabric when your head pops through the collar, and he brushes it behind your ears before he pulls the two of you back down, mattress bouncing against your shared weight.

pressed together like this, you can feel the soft thrum of his heart underneath you. something warm fills your chest at the thought of yours syncing to the same beat. your head fits perfectly in the junction of his neck, white baby hairs tickling your nose.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs. “it wasn’t the same without you. it’s such a pain waking up alone.”

you press a kiss below his ear in the form of an apology, relishing in the little shiver that runs through his body.

“hey,” he pinches your thigh. “i want more.” when you peek at him, his lips are already puckered, big grey eyes looking at you expectantly.

“you’re so spoiled, sei.” his lips are only a little chapped when you press yours against them. you tangle your fingers in his hair, nails grazing his scalp as he exhales in satisfaction.

“not my fault,” he says against your mouth. “i can’t get enough of you.”

he parts his lips, kissing you hard as his large hand moves from your back to your jaw to hold you in place. your body fits perfectly on top of his as you prop up on your elbows, arching into him like two puzzle pieces made to fit together. you whimper when his tongue grazes your own, tasting the leftover peach jam you had on your toast.

you mold your lips against his for as long as your lungs allow, chest aching as pull away. he’s so pretty, looking up at you with his messy hair and pink cheeks, lips shiny and eyes dazed.

what was a steady, soothing beat of rain has turned aggressive and loud, hitting hard and fast against the glass of his windows. you didn’t realize how dark it had gotten; you turn to look outside, but he curls a finger under your chin. your skin tingles from where his thumb traces along the edge of your mouth. “don’t look over there,” he pushes it into the plush of your lower lip. “i’m right here.”

even with the smallest effort, he never fails to make you dizzy, butterflies filling your chest so intensely you wouldn’t think you just caught your breath. he pushes your hair behind your shoulder, thumb moving to trace along your cheek. your noses are practically touching this close.

“i guess i can forgive you for leaving,” his kisses trail to the corner of your mouth and across your skin until his nose brushes against the curve of your ear. “but only if we stay here for the rest of the day.”

you don’t have much of a choice when he rolls the two of you over so you’re facing each other, clinging to you like a koala. he buries his head against your chest, hand sneaking under your clothes to wrap around your waist, fingers spread over your warm skin. you nuzzle down into his hair, wayward strands tickling your nose, eyes already growing heavy. “‘kay.”

BLLK MASTERLIST

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version ie. Wherein Vil tries his very best to correct your abominable wardrobe and you swoop in to kidnap save an unsuspecting gentleman in distress.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“Your wardrobe is atrocious. And I’m not going to be seen with someone who looks like they rolled around on the floor of their closet and put on whatever stuck to them first.”

Firstly, your closet wasn’t big enough to step inside, let alone roll around in. So take that, Mister Metaphor.

Secondly, you didn’t even own enough clothing for that to be an option. Dressing yourself like some kind of confetti monster? Yeah, no. You had three pairs of donated, grey, uniforms and a couple over-large sweatshirts that Jack had kindly donated to you once fall set in. Today it just so happened to be Uniform #2 that was the clean one of the set. So.

All of that being said, from the sounds of things, your Crimes Against Fashion had spurred an emergency shopping trip. A shopping trip spearheaded by the Vil Schoenheit, and very hopefully being funded by his seemingly never-emptying wallet. Also, to be perfectly honest, Ramshackle was cold. And you would very much like some new socks and at least one fuzzy pair of pajama pants to go with Jack’s old crewnecks. Maybe a nice throw blanket. That alone was worth the blow to your dignity.

“Will I survive?” you lamented, as Rook fussed with your sad excuse for an umbrella.

“No,” Epel drawled, entirely unsympathetic. Not that you could blame the guy. An afternoon that the House Warden spent with you was one less hovering over Epel—one less hour stuck in front of a mirror, one less etiquette class that was more punishment than lesson. Perhaps one more secret rack of barbecue ribs snuck in from the Savanaclaw Dorm.

“Mon Coeur, you are going to get soaked,” Rook tutted, finally conceding on trying to fix your shredded nightmare of a parasol. You’d found it in one of the many dusty closets Ramshackle had to offer. One of the ghosts said they recognized it from their time on campus two-hundred years ago.

“Sorry.”

“It is far from your fault!” Rook gasped, and Epel rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask Vil to buy you one?” your purple-haired friend mocked, and you fought the urge to stick your tongue out at him.

“Maybe I will,” you sniffed, indignant.

“More likely he’ll just see it an’ get all upset, and be like, ‘ah! How ugly this darn thing is! Throw it away before my eyes bleed!’” he crooned, dramatic—so caught up in his theatrics that he nearly dropped the little apple carving he was working on.

“Yeah, right. Like Vil would ever be caught dead saying ‘darn,’” you jabbed, and Epel hurled the fruit at your head. Rook caught it gracefully and returned it to the grumpy farm boy with a gentle toss. “But otherwise, spot on.”

“‘Spot on’ about what, precisely? Your collective complete and utter lack of decorum? This is a public space, show some class please.”

And with that scathing remark, Vil Schoenheit had officially entered the scene.

The venomous beauty’s purple eyes traced over you in the way that they always seemed to—picking apart whatever things he deemed worthy of plucking. His gaze landed almost immediately on your near-disintegrated umbrella, and it narrowed with distaste.

“You’re not bringing that with us. In fact, you might as well just toss it with the garbage on the way out.”

You and Epel made painfully long eye contact.

Rook shoved a red-and-white checkered parasol into your hands with an indulgent smile.

The journey to the outlets from there was actually pretty pleasant. Vil’s private car was swanky and smelled like the fancy sort of air fresheners that didn’t prick at your nose with an oversaturation of chemical fruitiness. He rattled off list upon list of ‘essentials’ that was sounding longer and more expensive by the minute. But (as he immediately confirmed upon seeing your mounting horror) this was to be a Schoenheit Expenditure, so you decided to let him enjoy himself and tally up a ridiculous amount of brand name garbage.

The stores had private parking. And that was immediately intimidating.

Vil fixed his ‘normal people disguise’ more firmly in place before walking you through the building with a surprising level of enthusiasm.

“It works a bit differently—” he continued, piling item after item into a cart that was already close to overflowing. “—Most of these products are meant to be customized, but I suppose we can look into that later. Off-The-Rack is not usually my preferred method of browsing, but it will have to do until we’ve bulked out your general wardrobe into something passable.”

He was muttering to himself like a mad scientist—holding swatches to your face, tugging bits of various fabric against your fingers. His efficiency and complete competence in all things was endearing, if not a bit terrifying.

Then, Vil draped a soft, amethyst, scarf around your neck.

“Here,” he said, still mostly buried in the racks. “You can wear this now—for the cold. This color suits you.”

“Really?” you hummed, doing your absolute best not to let your eyes fall to the price tag dangling off the end of it. You failed. “It’d fit you better,” you rambled, trying to take your mind off the triple-goddamn-digits you’d just seen. “It actually matches your eyes kind of perfectly, don’t you think?”

There was a pause then, and for a moment you worried that you’d said something irritating—maybe unintentionally questioning his fashion judgements or blablabla. One thing that you knew for sure was that when the King of Poisons had to stop and ponder on a reply, you’d done fucked up. And were his ears red? Oh no you must have really pissed him off—

“I am trying to focus on turning you into an even marginally acceptable member of society,” he rushed out finally, sounding strained. “So if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go grab us some coffees or something.”

“Don’t wander too far,” he called, sounding distracted. “And no—”

“No caffeine, decaf only. Stimulants will ruin your skin, and digestive tract, and blablabla,” you droned. “I know your drill.”

“That goes for you too, potato,” he tutted, a pleasant warmth coasting over the reprimand.

You waved him off with a grumble and headed out into the main building. It was bright—nearly unpleasantly so—and every surface looked like it was made of a stone so expensive that you probably wouldn’t even be able to pronounce its name.

You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, wondering idly if a place this upscale would even have a café kiosk. Surely rich people still drank coffee, but you’d also heard something once upon a time about how ‘to-go cups’ and ‘not savoring the brew’ were some kind of gross social faux pas. You sighed, and as your shoulders slouched you felt a brush of sinfully soft fabric against the back of your arm.  

You froze and reached hesitantly up to your neck. You were still wearing the purple scarf. You pinched at the ridiculously expensive cashmere with wide eyes. Did this make you a thief? I mean, no one had bothered to stop you or anything. Did these sorts of stores have different rules? Like an honesty policy maybe? And you technically hadn’t even left the building yet! So maybe—

WHAM!

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I just—I have to—!”

You were ripped out of your morality spiral by a sound like a storm, and you looked up past your assailant to see a herd of people stampeding in your direction. Immediately, your I-was-shopping-with-an-internationally-recognizable-superstar instinct kicked in, and you bodily hauled yourself and whatever poor sap who had nearly mowed you down into the nearest store and then into one of the changing rooms beyond that.

The tempest that followed was a roar of cacophonous noise, but thankfully brief. Only a few people ducked into the store you’d taken refuge in, and none of those ventured very close to your hiding place. You breathed out a sigh of relief. It sounded weirdly muffled behind the changing room’s thick, velvety, curtains.

“Th-Thank you for that,” stuttered whoever you’d just kidnapped.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrugged, and turned to get a better look at your new partner in crime. Immediately you froze, an odd sense of recognition working through you. “Uhm—Are you Neige? Neige Le Blanc?”

“Leblanche,” he corrected gently, and then winced. Like he’d only just realized that maybe outing himself after being nearly accosted by a mob was not the best idea.

“Oh. Alright,” you said, dazed.

This was Vil’s arch nemesis? He reminded you a little of a cocker spaniel—with big, wide, heavy-lashed eyes and soft, dark, curls framing his perfectly petite face. Sure, he was lovely. And maybe you were a little biased here, but this guy—this, this walking cherub—was standing in the way of Vil’s absolute, tyrannical, reign over all things sexy? Sure, he was adorable enough. But most beautiful of them all? Come on.

“U-Uhm…” Neige stuttered, nervously clasping his fingers. “Do you… Want an autograph or something? As a thank you?”

“What?” you blinked, allowing yourself to be pulled back into the very surreal situation unfolding around you. “Oh. No thanks. I don’t want to be massacred.”

He gasped. “I know that they may not have left the best first impression just now, but I promise that my fans would never do that!”

It wasn’t his fans you were worried about. Vil’s high heels looked sharp enough to gut a man, and you did not want to be the first test subject for that hypothesis.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrugged.

“…I might have to camp out in here for a while,” he mumbled after a quiet moment, morose.

“Probably,” you sighed, sympathetic. “Sorry.”

“You, uhm, you don’t mind keeping this a secret, do you?” Neige smiled, wobbly.

“I’m not going to turn you over to your ravenous fangirls,” you reassured. Because sure, the mean-spiritedness of the residents of Night Raven College may have been rubbing off on you, but you had yet to become that heartless.  

“Thank you,” he relaxed, genuine appreciation warming his dark eyes. And then he aimed that kilowatt, darling-of-the-world, smile in your direction and fired. “You’re my hero.”

For a moment you were honestly, thoroughly, dazzled. It was like you could hear songbirds and heavenly choirs singing all around you—filling the dark space with sparkles and warmth that danced merrily across your skin like the soft fizz in a soda pop.

But then, like a sign from God, your phone buzzed angrily in your pocket and you glanced down quick enough to catch a bright V.S. flash across the screen.

Oh shit.

You turned, ready to make a bolt for it and leave your companion stranded, when something atrocious caught your eye.

“Is that a sweater vest,” you gaped, poking at the stitched material poking out from beneath Neige’s RSA blazer. “With squirrels on it.”

“U-Uhm. Yes?” he squeaked, cheeks dusted pink.

How in the fuck does Vil think he’s less fuckable than this guy, what the fuck.

“I-I’m sorry, but did you just say—"

You hurriedly pulled the (stolen?) scarf from your neck and shoved it pointedly over Neige’s mouth, before wrapping it securely around the rest of his head. Your phone was buzzing again—longer and sharper this time. Like a certain someone was spamming you with indignant, ‘how dare you abandon my magnificent ass,’ essays.

“So that hopefully no one will recognize you,” you (lied) explained cheerfully, and tightened the makeshift gag. Now he could be the accidental thief. Neige gurgled his thanks into the fabric, or at least, you assumed that’s what he was spluttered out. It was hard to tell past the, you know, gag.

You peaked out beyond the curtains and observed the empty storefront like a proper super spy. All clear. Thank God.

You swiveled back and thumped Neige Leblanche on the shoulder with what was perhaps a bit more force than necessary, seeing as his knees had started to shake. He swayed in place, an odd shade of pink creeping past the barrier of the scarf and nearly all the way to his hairline. Hopefully he wasn’t about to faint or something—you really didn’t have time for that.

“Good luck,” you told him emphatically, before darting out of your hiding space and back into the horrible fluorescent nightmare before you.

“Wait!” you heard him call. “I didn’t even get your name—"

But at this point, your phone had graduated from spurts of rage to outright howling in indignation, so you didn’t have much choice but to keep on running. You pressed down on the green ‘accept call’ button with all the enthusiasm of a soldier being sent off to the front lines.

“What?”

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me,” Vil hissed, doing an impressive job of keeping his voice low and level while simultaneously sounding ready to tear your ass to pieces. “Where are you?”

“I got lost looking for coffee with no caffeine. You know. The best part of the coffee,” you admitted. Sort of.

“You got lost?” he sounded incredulous. “In a single-story shopping center? With maps at every corner?”

“There were a lot of people,” you defended.

He sighed, clearly put upon, and you had the distinct impression that he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just meet me back at the side entrance. We should leave—it’s starting to get crowded and I don’t want to deal with the stampede when I’m inevitably recognized.”

“Of course,” you agreed easily, and made your way up to one of these supposed ‘maps at every corner.’ And oh. It was actually… very well drawn and very helpful. Fuck you, huh? “Did you get everything you needed?”

“I got everything you needed,” he corrected. “And we will be trying every single item on when we return to campus.”

You whined, and man, oh man. You didn’t think it was possible to smack someone upside the head through a phone, but somehow Vil made it work.

It didn’t take long from there to find the exits, and just in the nick of time too it would seem! As a steady stream of eager ‘shoppers’ began to flood into the building—most of them twittering about ‘did you catch a photo’ or ‘I heard someone saw him around that one store!’ Vil watched them through the tinted lenses of his glasses, lips pursed.

You were just about to step back into the car and out of the chilly rain when an eruption of screaming broke out somewhere in the near-distance. You immediately braced for impact, but when you were not immediately trampled into a pile of gelatinous goop beneath the thundering feet of hundreds of fanatics, you chanced a glance upwards.

Neige Leblanche was being herded out of the main entrance by a troupe of security guards, each one holding a different black umbrella over his head. It created a shadowed canopy that, despite the rain and gloom, somehow managed not to dull the radiance oozing off him and his perfect-perfectness. The fair beauty rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head, as if perplexed by the swarm of people ducking in and out like a pack of dogs circling a big, juicy, steak. Nevertheless, he waved to each and every fan—smiling demurely and sweetly as he went.

“We should go while they’re distracted,” you whispered, tugging at Vil’s arm. “And in case the swooning is contagious.”

He didn’t move. There was an odd sort of look on his face, one that usually preceded some of the most brutally cutting insults you’d ever heard.

You turned back to the growing mob, curious about what could have possibly snagged his attention—and ire—so completely.

Wrapped artfully around Neige’s neck, and flapping neatly alongside the chilly autumn breeze, was your purple scarf.

The dainty actor lifted the soft fabric to his lips, burrowing his chin into it not unlike how some adorable little round-cheeked bunny might photogenically cuddle into a—a cloud. Or a pillow of cotton candy. Or something else equally as cute and ridiculous. Neige’s cheeks bloomed a fetching shade of pink and his wide, brown, eyes glittered from over the folds of cashmere. His audience squealed.

“Well, at least it’s not you they’re mauling this time,” you hummed, shooting Vil another hesitant glance. That sour expression had twisted into a familiar and awful icy sneer that you hadn’t seen him dawn in a very long time. “Vil?” You called. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” he blinked, seeming to come back to himself. That frigid snarl was washed away by a mask of complete stoicism, and honestly, you weren’t sure which was worse. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Shall we?”

The hand he offered to help you climb over the many boxes of clothes and into the backseat was stiff, tight. It clapped around your wrist like a pair of manacles, and he didn’t let go until you were out of the parking lot, past the backroads, beyond the gates of Night Raven, and all the way back into the lavish halls of Pomefiore. 

[privitivium]

ermmm, guhhhh, something, someting, somethin Ughhhhhh.... me don't know, afab dombot incubus riding amab angel readers face? and, urhmmm... hrmmm... angel reader begging maybe?? andddd... uhhhhhhhhh... i dunno, angel reader basically being vewy submissive to a demon despite being larger or something┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

:3 (but me jus sendin in random brainrot)

sorry it took a lil long, i have been procrastinating a bit. been drained like pasta frfr

dombot afab incubus x sub angel reader

cw;; religiousish, god mentioned once - incubus referred to as demon, mention being abandoned by said god, face sitting,,,,,, begging. ekeke

it was a bit tedious, he found - trying to console you as you sobbed with your mouth constantly working at his open cunt, needily shoving your tongue into his pussy. no need to breathe... he commends you, truly. an pent-up angel is definitely not he expected to find, but my is he happy to oblige..

malleable grey thighs set on either side of your head - the incubus trailing his sharp-nailed dainty fingers along your scalp whilst providing words of comfort to you.. telling you how good you look underneath him, how good your tongue feels with your flushed face buried in his pussy with no complaintㅡyet tears fall from your squeezed shut eyes at the thought of being foresaken by your God for indulging yourself - the flavor was irresistibly delicious to resist banishing this tiny temptation,,,. it was addicting. you can't blame yourself. he was keeping you here - seducing you rather easily with his tastes.. that's why you were trapped. no other reason other than he was a pesky little creature, obviously - you admit that you are a bit stupid for falling for such tricks when really it's your own fault... unable to push this incubus off you... the taste of his juices practically made you a braindead horny zombieㅡtongue lapping desperately along his cum-drenched folds (ㅡafter making him cum on you several times - so sloppily - no practice yet y-you make him cum so easily!ㅡ) trying to suck the flavor off of his inner lips while with a painfully hard cock poking free from your robes as you whine against his cunt, vibrations making him twitch as though he was electrocuted - the incubus huffing softly, grinding into your open mouth, so eager to have a mouth full of his secretions,,

"please,,," you implore, muffled in his pussy. strong, thick hands clutching on his thighs - a bit too forcefully, unaware of his soft moan at how you mewled for himㅡpurely in anguish,, too aware of how his plushy thighs felt in your grip; squeezing and digging your nails into his thighs strapped in whorish leather belts without restraintㅡweren't you supposed to be kind and gentle? grinning cruelly, as best he could whilst overcome with such pleasure of having such a saint suck on his clit so needily,,,  "please what, angel..?" he coos, high-pitched mocking tone cracking at the feeling of your nose bumping against his clit as you moved down to lap at his hole - utterly pleased with himself and too prideful for his own good. how could he not be? he has a huge angel lapping at his pussy like his life depends on it.. begging for his pussy... his core tightening, soft breathless whimpers escaping his glossy slate grey lips, "m-more, i ah.. m-more.. please.." you mumble, incoherent and growing all the more eager for this creature to cum on your tongue once more - the taste is fucking divine and you cant help it. reprimanding yourself, as you fade in and out of your reality, too trapped in the captivating secretions that were slowly pulling you down with him,,,

"yes.. my angel, my perfect little angel.." he obliges, grinning as he gazes down to catch a glimpse of you buried in-between his thighs - so maliciously happy at the sight of your tears, body trembling - knowing how much bigger you are than him, towering over him - he barely comes up to your chest, yet here you are - underneath him, so pathetically whining and sobbing into his pussy for more of his cum - "so eager for me to cum in your mouth... so disgusting... what would the higher-ups say?" he teasesㅡthe sting of tears distracting you from your task at hand before you feel how he trembles, thighs tensing - cunt fluttering in your mouth so deliciouslyㅡit was positively the first time he was ever truly overstimulated from orgasming - a feeling like no other.. body trembling, thighs trying to squeeze shut, squishing your head - still, no complaint.. often coming back for more... being forsaken, just to get a taste of him on your tongue,,, how romantic

[cilliansdove]

BABY IM SORRY || tommy shelby imagine

pairings: tommy shelby x fem!reader

warnings: postnatal depression/ angst/ suicidal thoughts/ mentions of self harm

summary: y/n's struggling with postnatal depression.

a/n: I am not responsible for the writing you consume. If anything in my writing makes you feel uncomfortable, I apologise, however I can't do much about it. This is my writing and I take full credit for it so please do not copy x paste/rewrite the writing. You may repost/like/comment etc. Enjoy reading!!

There was a feeling of emptiness in my gut that'd been lingering for a while now. It made me feel weak, spoke sorrows to me- told me I wasn't doing nor giving enough; that I was worthless. It got to me all the time sometimes. And it wasn't something I could run away from, or something I could escape. It was glued to me, embedded itself in my skin and made me feel dirty.

I'd spend hours in the bathtub, scrubbing at my skin till it bled and the water made me shiver from the coldness of it.

Tommy never knew about it, I made sure of it. However, it seemed pretty obvious to me, so perhaps he didn't have the time to care anymore. Either that, or I really was useless. To both Tommy and the baby.

No amount of words could portray the numbness I felt around the mini me. As a mother, I'm meant to be able to nurture the little human, yet as of now, I haven't even looked at them for a week.

Frances always gives me this 'look' of sympathy when she sees me; it makes me feel sick. But then again, I always seem to be feeling sick nowadays.

And Mrs Shelby. A name I was no longer living up to. I was destroying the title completely. I stopped organising charity events, stopped going out. I was a rotting corpse, in a rotting home.

Worst of all, Tommy had finally caught on. That didn't hurt, no. It was the look in his eye that made me heart clench- the way his body slumped after seeing how drained I was.

I felt tears begin to brim in my empty eyes, "I'm sorry..." I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I couldn't bare to look him in the eyes.

Tommy cupped my chin and tilted it upwards so I'd look at him. He tilted his head to the side, observing me from head to toe, like I was damaged. As if it wasn't only my head rotting anymore, it was my body too.

His fingertips traced my greying cheekbone and he leant his face down to brush his nose against mine.

"No, Y/n. This is my fault," A tear streamed down his face and I frowned at him, "Baby I'm sorry...I should've been here for you and I haven't," Tommy pressed his forehead against mine.

I hesitantly closed my eyes and nodded my head, "It's okay-"

He cut me off, "No it's not. Don't make excuses for my poor behaviour," He frowned softly and cupped my jaw , "Y/n what's wrong, love?"

I looked at him emptily, baffled by his question. I didn't have an answer to it. But I swallowed down my fear and answered meekly, "I'm not sure, Tommy..."

He looked behind me, gawking at the mess of our bedroom.

"Where's Charlie? Why aren't you with him?"

His words made me choke up, causing tears to freely spill from my eyes. With the little strength I had, I squeezed the fabric of his shirt, and he got the hint.

Tommy put my head on his chest and stroked through the knots in my hair.

"He doesn't need me, Tommy. I'm not good enough to him. I can't feed him properly, I can't settle him. For fuck sakes, I can't even hold him! I'm a disgrace of a mother and a wife. A no good, stupid-"

He shut me off with a gentle kiss to my lips. They moved soothingly against mine, giving me a small sense of comfort.

Tommy pulled away gently, and cupped my face, looking me dead in the eye with a sympathetic look. The same one Frances always gave me.

"You listen to me now, ay?"

I weakly nodded.

"You a no disgrace, Y/n, I can promise you that, my love. And it hurts me that you think you aren't good enough, because god forbid, Y/n, if I didn't have you, there would be no 'Tommy Shelby'. I'd be a nobody," he rests his forehead against mine, "but you are hurting yourself, love. And I am in no way blaming you for that, but it isn't necessary. I love you, yeah? That little boy in his bed loves you too. He thinks the world of you, Y/n. So please, please, love. Come back to me."

I let out a small sob and nodded. But the longer I listened to him, the more the guilt opened its arms to me.

I fell into Tommy, hugging him tightly as I buried my face into his shoulder.

He cooed to me, "It's okay, love. Shh...shh...it's alright. I'm not angry at you, I'm just...scared."

Slowly, I untucked my face from his shoulder, and looked at the tear stains on his shirt. I sniffled and looked up at him. Tommy wiped away my tears with his thumbs.

"I never meant to scare you, Tom."

"I know, love. I know."

____________________________________________

A week later he had taken me to the doctors. They had diagnosed me with postnatal depression. It was the cause to my mood changes, especially towards the baby.

There was no clear fixture other than to 'talk things out'. So I did.

Tommy made me cuddle up to him in bed, and rest my head on his chest so he could stroke my hair.

"Just talk when you can, sweetheart. Or if you're not ready, that's okay too, yeah?"

I let out a deep sigh and snuggled closer to him. Both my fists were clenched, but after a couple minutes, I relaxed.

"Promise you won't be angry?" I looked at him nervously.

Tommy rolled his head back, looking up at the ceiling, "We've spoken about this, Y/n/n. I'm not gonna be angry, ay? I just want to help you, alright?"

"Alright."

I dwelled on whether to speak or be silent.

The urge to tell him how I felt was eating away at me. It was now or never.

"Tommy..." I sat up in the bed, and lay the same way he did. On my back, with an arm under my head on the pillow- staring up at the ceiling.

"Tommy I hurt myself..." My eyes didn't blink for what felt like hours. After saying it, it made what I had done, seem real.

He didn't speak either, which rattled my nerves. Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he not love me anymore? Did he-

"Show me."

I dashed up, and stared at him, "Are you absurd? No!"

He shot out of bed and pinned me to him by my shoulders, making me shriek.

"For god sakes, woman! I need to see it, Y/n!"

He towered over me, his piercing blue eyes shooting at me. I squirmed in his tight grip, trying to get out of it.

"Stop it!" I sobbed, giving up, "S-Stop it."

My body slumped in his grip, and I let my knees buckle and take me to the floor.

Tommy pulled me back up and whispered gently to me ,"Please, love...I need to see. If you don't show me, Y/n, I'll have to go rooting myself."

A deep sob wrecked through me and I gripped his shirt tightly. He wasn't giving me a choice. He was being unfair. Tommy wouldn't want to see the damage I'd caused to myself. It was disgusting.

Hesitantly, I let the straps of my dress slip down my shoulders, allowing it to pool to my feet. I watched as Tommy's eyes were met with the discolouration on my thighs. I watched as his eyebrows flipped upwards. I watched as he didn't blink. I watched him shake his head.

Out of the blue, he pulled me to him in a tight embrace whilst he let out heavy sobs. Ones that made my heart ache.

Without thinking about it, I let my hands run through his hair in attempt to soothe him. But his body was getting heavy on me so i sat us on the bed.

He gazed at me with his puffy eyes, "Why, Y/n? Why, love?"

I shrugged with a blank look on my face. I wasn't sure how to react to the situation.

"I don't know...I thought it was the only way to cope," I looked at the ceiling to stop myself from crying, "It took away the emptiness I felt. I couldn't talk to you...because I didn't want to burden you further with my baggage."

"Oi! I vowed to you that I would look after you through thick and thin, and through sickness and health," he planted a kiss on my temple, "You have never been a burden to me, my love. And you never will be. Because I love you."

I frowned at him, a confused look in my eye, "I don't understand."

"You don't need to. All you need to know, is that I love you no matter the issue, okay?"

____________________________________________

- part 2??🤔🤔

[konigsblog]

RUINED — in which your lieutenant teaches you a valuable lesson.

simon ghost riley x afab!reader

warnings: feminine terms, female anatomy, degrading and humilating, corruption, mean dom!ghost, choking and slapping.

synopsis/summary: you and ghost don't seem to have the best relationship. always groaning when put on a mission together. this time, you took it too far with your backtalk towards you lieutenant, leading to your very harsh, cruel punishment.

a/n: i don't post fics often, but if this does well i'll think about posting them occasionally whilst doing my drabbles and blurbs, of course. reblogs and comments appreciated.

to say you and ghost got along was a lie. you envied eachother, glared at eachother from afar and talked behind eachother's back. your captain knew this. he knew you two didn't get along, deciding to team you up for a duo mission in the hopes you'd get along.

oh, how wrong he was.

not only did you two not get along, ghost had been shot in the shoulder and arm twice, leading to you having to call medic and help him in the meantime. the enemies took their opportunity and fled, knowing they wouldn't get away with a successful mission either. your goal was to eliminate all of hassan's men, which was now turning into a failed mission, and hearing ghost scoff and blame you didn't make it any better

“if you'd done your job correctly, you wouldn't have been shot. be glad i even bothered to help your ass.” you practically growled out, pushing yourself forward and infront of price who held you back. disappointment hung heavy in the air, and the tension was thick between you two. “it's no one's fault. we'll send you out once you're better. rest, simon.”

you rolled your eyes before turning your heel, walking off to your barracks where you would rest grumpily, seething at the thought of him blaming you for causing a failure.

a hand shuffling your body awakened you. you rubbed your eyes and attempted to see through your sleepy haze, seeing simon stand above you, his arm covered in gauze, standing shirtless above you. “simon?” he continued to stare at you. “you need to be taught a fuckin' lesson.” his tone harsh and strict, stern and demanding as he gripped the blanket beside your head.

“wha—?” you were only cut off by his calloused hand placed and wrapped around your neck. you squirmed, scratching and attempting to pull at his wrist, his eyes narrowing in on you as he caged you beneath him. “say you're sorry, doll.” you wouldn't, it wasn't your fault, and you wouldn't take blame for anything caused due to his stupidity. “let go—!”

his hand collided with your cheek. it wasn't too harsh, he could do better, it almost seemed he was saving any anger or energy for something else. you rubbed your cheek and sat up slightly, struggling underneath his bodyweight. “i didn't do anything, why would i say sorry?” simon tilted his head and smirked almost sarcastically, tightening his grip on the blanket. “you should've shot the enemies, obviously. get tha' through your thick skull.”

you bit your lip to supress your anger, he chuckled seeing the effect he had on you and your built up rage for him. “don't be oblivious, simon. you know that wasn't my fault, if anyone's; it's yours.” his thigh managed to work it's way between yours, you squeezed around him when he pushed your head against the bedframe, a loud thud while he kept his hand tightened around your neck. “who's fault, love?”

his accent deepened when he spoke, and you found yourself grinding down against his knee. he was wearing grey shorts, his skin against your barely covered pussy made you wince and shudder, almost whining when he rubbed it continuously against the thin material covering you and giving you some decency. “the military isn't made for anyone like you, not for people who can't admit their fault.” you managed between gasps, before he slapped you harshly, this time making your jaw drop.

simon glared at you with a tone that could make any recruit drop their arms to their sides and nod obediently. you, on the other hand, wanted nothing but to listen to him. but, as he continued to apply more pressure, almost begging to hear you squeal, you found yourself with tears welling in your eyes. “simon, please—”

as he continued to grind his thigh against your cunt, you became wetter. you felt something inside your stomach turn and how hard he was holding you by your neck made you dizzy and hazy. “'m sorry, simon.” you whimpered finally. you'd rather admit fault rather than die by his touch. “mm', not sure if i can accept it, sweetheart. give me something, something in return for that bratty attitude.” a smirk grew on his face as he let go, trailing his hand down to your chest where he squeezed your breast.

you moaned unexpectedly, arousal pooling at your wet sex, his thigh beginning to get soaked as your juices seeped through your panties. in the dark, you could make out his eyes,, the bedsheets moving as he moved your body down to rest your head on the pillow. his forehead pressed against yours, letting go and tilting his head as he kissed you sloppily. his lips attaching to yours and your tongue interwined, grinding against eachother through your desperation.

he made you feel vulnerable. and to him, you seemed so inexperienced in the military. how you freaked out and rushed over to him when he was shot, anyone else would react calmly. but you seemed like you were worried, like you'd never seen this before. “so whiney, yeah?” simon's voice deepened again as he leaned back in, growling between kisses. “mmf', simon...”

he was being unfair, he knew you were getting off at this; how weak and small he made you feel under his grasp, feeling guilty for kissing your superior, and upset for admitting you actually apologised despite how you said you wouldn't. “up. now.” he practically barked out, ordering you onto two wobbly legs.

simon pushed you against the wall, lifting and hiking you up into his arms, two large hands cupping your waist and yours gripping his shoulder tightly for support. he laid hickeys onto your skin, moving his lips up to yours again, messily sucking on your tongue till you were gasping for air. his bulge hardened at the thought of turning you into an obedient slut who finally listened whenever given an order.

“so desperate...” your thighs were soft, feeling as he let you go and down onto your feet again, tugging at your shirt and pulling it up to reveal your titties. “off, all of it.” and being desperate for that release and the knot in your stomach to snap, you did as you were told. shakily removing your pretty, light blue panties and taking your shirt off, hard nipples sensitive whenever he touched them.

his heavy shaft just pulled out from his boxers, before discarding both and pushing you against the white wall again. “you're drippin', love.” simon commented, rubbing his hand against your slit before bringing you back up into that position; legs wrapped around his waist and his hands groping your ass. simon's bare, wet shaft rested against your stomach, angling his hips to push inside, swallowing inch by inch till he bottomed out with a loud slap. “god—fuck! so fuckin' tight, so fuckin' tight, pretty...”

broad hips smacked against your own as he thrusted sloppily into you, fucking deep and hard into your tight hole, groaning when you spammed around him. your sounds stuttered and almost silenced, coming out breathless and whiney as he fucked into you. you could hear the wet, sticky sounds of his girthy cock stuffed into your pussy, your juices and your sweet musk addictive. “takin' it so well, ain't'cha? bet your used to bein' fucked, huh? bet you're a dirty fuckin' whore,”

“or maybe you're a dirty virgin, desperate for a thick cock shoved into your cunt..” he buried his head in the crook of your neck as he ploughed into you. your hand gripped his shoulder tightly, emitting a wince from him as some blood began trickling from the wound. too distracted by his heavy dick laying in your hole, you closed your eyes and moaned out his name.

he became animalistic with his pace, angrily shoving and pounding into you as you held his bicep tightly, gasping and whimpering at each thrust he made. “dirty slut, swallowin' my entire cock like the greedy fuckin' thing you are.” simon growled out, slamming into you repeatedly, hips smacking against your own and his thick tip ruining your insides.

you gasped as tears began forming in your waterline, threatening to spill as his pace got faster and faster. “take it all, all of it.” you cried at his words, salty tears soaking into your skin as he degraded and humilated you. “what would they think? if they saw your tight pussy bein' assaulted by my pace, huh? they'd think you're a whore desperate for cock, wouldn't they?” you mumbled and babbled, his teeth biting into your neck before he made eye contact with you.

“look at me.” you listened to his order, moving upur hips with his pace, grinding down against him and feeling his happytrail grazing against your soft stomach. he made you feel dizzy, and the knot in your of stomach was beginning to get ready to snap as you soaked his shaft in your cum. each vein on his cock was prominent, grazing against your gummy walls as he bullied his way into you — probably bruising your cervix.

you felt him increase his pace further, getting ready to cum deep into your tightening, clutching hole. a whine left through your swollen lips, stolen as be attached his lips onto yours, taking your moans away while fucking deep and hard into you. “simon, simon— simon!” simon's hard cock twitched inside, groaning and grunting as you squeezed around him rapidly, clutching onto him while you shuddered and shook, sobbing out and cumming all around his dick, his thick girth stretching you out before he got ready for his release.

he threw his head back and growled, the sounds of skin slapping loud and heavy before coming to a halt, his cum buried deep in your hole, still thrusting and fucking it deeper inside. “naughty fuckin'...” he panted, breathing heavily in your ear as he slowly slid from your ruined hole, slit raw and clit sensitive. you felt him carry you over to the bed, grabbing a tissue and wiping your pussy clean before sitting down beside you. “go to sleep, love. i'll be here, just relax...”

you barely noticed his arm, crimson blood trailing down it, it just managing to catch your eye as you sat up. “oh god, did i do that?” you hurried over to him and grabbed a tissue from the box, holding it against him before looking for your medical box that you kept for small smergencies during the night. removing the old gauze carefully, hearing his wince as he kept quiet, the new and clean gauze wrapped around after you managed to stop the bleeding.

“i'm sorr—” “'s alright, doll..” simon cut you off, running his hand through his hair and gripping his bicep before squeezing a few times. “c'mere...” he pulled you onto his lap, kissing you softly a few times, pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder.

“'s safe to say that you probably kept the whole base up with your noises. price will be happy we've made up, yeah?” he joked and teased, seeing you fall asleep in his arms. placed gently against your bed, the blankets covering you. he whispered quietly as you slept,

“mission was my fault, love.” little did he know, you weren't fully asleep just yet...

do not repost onto any other website without prior consent. — konigsblog⭒