#putting in all the tags cause I genuinely want you all to see this so you can block me if you think that person is someone to follow

[virgincels]

WHITE BOY WASTED !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader x og4!ashley graham

tags. intoxication, dub-con/non-con idk atp, ffm threesome, unrequited love (leshley), leon is the one that gets dub-conned, very unsatisfying sex and smut, oral

note. @rigorwhoring hi you beautiful beautiful girl happy birthday sorry this is so late!!! i hope u enjoy this and i hope u have the best day ever!!! not my best work but forgive me im writers blocked to hell and back… this is edited but if u see a mistake please ignore… my excuse for excessive repetition and simplicity is 😇 ashley pov 💪💯 I LOVE U EM <3 this got so long winded and boring I’m sorry I didn’t mean for all of this 😓😓

When Leon lets it slip that he’s got a girlfriend, Ashley thinks her life might be over amidst this sweaty crowd with her nose powdered in more ways than one. Her smile breaks in half, the plump of her bottom lip taken between lipstick-smeared teeth as she tries to put on her big girl face.

“I’m so happy for you,” Ashley says with eyes too wide to be genuine, her voice cracks and her hands drop from his shoulders where they fit so nicely, the initial excitement of him showing up tonight dims. She’ll have to retire those fantasies and rely on that hairbrush she calls Leon for the rest of her life.

“Ashley—“ Leon’s voice is muffled, it might be the bass or the blood rushing in her ears.

“No, this is totally so fun, Leon, this is—Like, gosh, I’m so happy for you, you wouldn’t even believe how happy I am, I’m like literally squealing to myself, oh my gosh, like, like—“ She thinks she’s going to cry.

“Ashley.“ His scowl deepens, the severity in his eyes is wounding her, like, oh my god, doesn’t he know not to look at her that way? Gosh, the way Leon breathes could set Ashley off, like, why are you huffing at her? Why did you use that tone of voice? Why, why, why? She’s not stupid, Ashley is like a master at reading body language.

“Why did you show up, Leon?” Ashley cuts him up once more, she feels light on her feet all of a sudden, it could be the high or it could be enlightenment. “Like, you never—you never come when I ask you to show up.” Did he come to rub it in her face? That he’s got a girlfriend and that means Ashley has even a less of a chance with him than she did before.

“You called me,” Leon tells her, and he’s trying to be loud over the music, but it feels like he’s shouting at her. He is shouting at her. He’s using this party invite as an excuse to be mean, to get away with how he truly feels about her. Leon never shouts so he must be mad—He wants her out of his life, that’s what he’s going to tell her.

Ashley, you’re an annoying little bitch, and nobody actually likes you, they stick around because you pay for everything and that’s the only real reason anyone would ever want to be around you. Anyway, I have a girlfriend and she’s a hundred times hotter than you, and she’s not a kid, she’s my age. By the way, I remember when you kissed me in my sleep on the flight home from Spain, you’re a fucking creep and I would never waste my time with a little girl like you, can you even wipe your own ass or wild your boyfriend have to do that for you too?

Yes, Leon, I can wipe my ass! Do you want to watch? It’s a date.

With this newfound clearheadedness clutched at her side like a holy book, Ashley stills her quivering lip. “I always invite you to parties,” she points out, “so why did you show up today?”

“You called me,” he repeats, “I don’t answer texts ‘cause I don’t get what you mean, I thought—I mean, I just thought you were pressing the buttons—I didn’t know they meant anything.“ Leon shakes his head to reset his jumbled thoughts. “You never call, I got worried, I thought you needed help.”

“Oh my god, don’t do this to me right now, Leon!” She struggles to get away from him, the walls are closing in on her and there’s too many people to move an inch.

“I’m not trying to do anything, I thought you were hurt—“ Leon follows her movements closely. He’s good at that - shouldering past whoever’s in Ashley’s way, parting a crowd like the Red Sea just so she can make her way through. It’s only because she’s his responsibility—well, not anymore, Ashley hasn’t been his responsibility for six months, but still, it makes her feel special.

It’s so unfair, it’s so not fair. This is like emotional cheating, she read about that in the cosmopolitan. Like, where your mind says one thing and your heart says another, if Leon seriously liked his girlfriend, would he be chasing around after Ashley right now? He’s leading both of them on—They’re in this together, personally victimised by Leon S. Kennedy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Ashley sniffles, she is so hurt his stupid boy brain couldn’t even comprehend the spiking levels of hurt inside of her right now, “so, like, can you go now?”

“Ashley,” he says her name again, is that all he has to say to her? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley—If he gave her the chance, he could be saying it in bed. Please, Leon, she could pop his hip out of place if he let her get on top. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes, duh, Leon, oh my gosh, I am doing a lot more than that!” She recalculates her path to the nearest possible exit, skin going pink with the gust of wind that has her skirt flying up. Leon smooths it back down for her, and then he spins her around to face him. And it’s so dangerous to be this close to him, Ashley really might do something bad. Like, like, she might have to get her dad to cover up a criminal record if Leon doesn’t get off of her right now. Every governing body is made up of sex pests anyway. It’s not like it would be a big deal.

“What is up with you?” His brows are knit with concern. She counts all of his freckles.

You have a girlfriend and everything is ruined. You have a girlfriend and everything is worse now. You have a girlfriend and now I can’t get off to you without feeling guilty and jealous and sick to my stomach. Did Spain mean nothing to you? You hugged me and you held my hand. Why don’t you answer my texts? How can you pretend nothing happened between us?

Instead of saying anything mildly intelligent or moving, Ashley hiccups and then keels over to vomit on his shoes. She narrowly misses them. Leon makes it all worse by rubbing her back and telling her to let it all out. Because he’s just like that. He’s a really good guy and it’s way too easy to fall in love with him.

When he offers to drive her home, Ashley whimpers out a ‘no’ but clings onto him anyway. Leon does her seatbelt up, and he puts the heaters on to warm her up. He switches the radio station from rock to KIIS-FM and then he squeezes her hand over the gearshift.

Leon gets out to talk to security even when they recognise his car as he pulls up, and he insists on dropping Ashley right inside even when she brushes him off and says it’s fine.

Really. It’s so fine, Leon. This is embarrassing enough as it is, I don’t want you to see mom and dad scold me like I’m a kid in front of you—Like, seriously, Leon, there’s no need to do that, or drop me off to bedroom—I’ve got it from here, I don’t want you to see my bedroom, I still have stuffed toys and I can’t even make my own bed and I can’t even pick my clothes up off the ground.

Of course, Ashley says none of this, and she doesn’t have the energy to lift her head and see her daddy’s fallen face, she just lets Leon take her to bed. He doesn’t come in thank god, but he kisses her forehead at the door and then leaves for good.

“Wow,” is all Ashley has to say when she meets you for the very first time. She hasn’t seen a skirt that short since daddy pulled her out of that Catholic boarding school. She hasn’t seen tits like that since she checked hers out in the mirror this morning.

Why are you cool? It’s not supposed to go like this. Ashley isn't ready to face someone like you. Oh my god, it’s like the universe is against her, you look like the whole world rolls over when you ask it to.

Neither you or Leon have spotted her yet, so she hides behind one of her casually dressed security guards. Ashley looks at the text she sent.

Ashley: HAI LEON !! u still up 2 meet 2mrw?? :3

Ashley: OMG vry excited 2 c u 2day. LMK if u want 2 cum over 2! BYOB though !! *laughing emoji*

Ashley: Only jk Leon :3 We have W/E beer u like! Anyway G2G TTYL wen I c u there ^-^

Ashley: OMW RN leon B4N ;)

Ashley: Oops >_<

Ashley: :)****

Leon: Okay, Ashley.

Leon: :)

Oh my god, desperate much? He didn’t even respond to her prior texts and she just kept going. The smiley face must mean he’s not mad.

Her phone beeps, she dreads to open it.

Leon: Hey, you here yet?

Leon: :)

Ashley blinks at her screen and wonders if it’s worth showing face. But, her dad is so going to ask how it went down later, and Ashley is awful at lying and she’ll burst into tears and get sent right back to that awful therapist with the stuffy nose. So she takes whatever insecurity she has and shoves it up her ass, it can fix itself like intestines after a surgery.

“Leon!” She springs herself on him from behind, and he’s not much taller than her, but he manages to not topple over, his hands settle over hers as she squeezes his middle tight.

“Ashley.” That’s a smile in his voice, she hopes. She traces a heart on his shoulder blade before she removes herself from his space. It’s very hard to have self control when you’ve never been told no.

“Sorry I’m late, Leon, there was traffic, and then I lost my handkerchief and then I dropped my phone and it wasn’t working for a minute and—Oh.” She lies to Leon ‘cause it’s easy to lie to a guy you want to look cool in front of, someone you want to impress, it’s not easy to lie in front of daddy. “Is this your girlfriend, Leon?”

She pretends her heart doesn’t lurch when he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer to him. “Yeah, uh, babe this is Ashley.”

Ashley looks you up and down for anything she can pick on, anything that she does better than you. But her data scan finds nothing of the sort. You’re perfect and Ashley has never felt more homicidal in her life—Apart from that time she was plagas-riddled.

Unfortunately, you are really fucking cool, and you make her feel more comfortable than Leon ever has, you take the edge away and she’s finally able to relax in front of him.

You work at an office part time, but you spend most of your time out and about, making connections that get you free designer handbags and you have acrylics and ankle-breaking heels and a lip combo she would die for. You are everything she wants to be if it wasn’t for this presidency bullshit. Ashley wants nothing more than to wear a skirt that covers less than half her ass, that flashes everyone in a ten mile radius anytime she takes a step.

“I thought he was ignoring me, I didn’t know he couldn’t read them!” Her texts aren’t that bad, she knows people who don’t even leave a space between their words.

“I wouldn’t ignore you,” Leon mumbles, his lips pressed together in what might be the closest thing to a pout

“Oh em gee, you’re like not even that old, Leon,” she giggles, covering her mouth because she has never liked the way her two front teeth are a little bigger than the rest, and she doesn’t need Leon to pick up on that.

“He doesn’t even know how to make a smiley, I did it for him,” you tell her, “he barely answers my texts, I have to call him every single time.”

You tell her insider info about Leon that she couldn’t even get if she stalked him everyday for the rest of her life. Ashley really likes you, and she can see why Leon really likes you too, and she can’t lie, it kind of makes her really distraught, but if Leon is happy, Ashley is happy.

Oh, who is she kidding?

It doesn't work like that.

Ashley’s selfish. It doesn’t matter if you make Leon happier than he’s ever been, she still wants him to be hers. Not that he would ever even consider anything between the two of them, but him being happy won’t stop Ashley from being unhappy.

“We should go out tonight,” you offer a little while later, and Leon shakes his head immediately.

“She’s twenty,” he murmurs into your ear.

“So?” You seem to do that a lot - ignore everything Leon says in favour of what you want. “You drink, right, Ashley?”

“Yeah, duh, of course I do!” Ashley nods so fast she gives herself whiplash.

You give her a time, place, dress code and a kiss on her cheek. Ashley promises that she’ll be there on time, fake ID in hand.

Ashley finds both of you huddled in a booth, your arm is around Leon’s waist and his face is pressed into your neck, looking awfully small as he speaks. “She’s a kid, it’s illegal.”

“Everyone drinks, Leon, have you never been to a party? Nobody waits until they’re twenty-one, I mean, only you did that.” You use your free hand to card your fingers through his hair. “She really likes you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Leon huffs like a pouty toddler, “it drives me crazy.”

She holds in a noise. While Ashley has made her attraction to Leon clear, while he rejected her attempt at flirting, at what might’ve been solicitation when she looks back at it, he’s never expressed annoyance at it. Oh god, he finds her annoying. Mega annoying. Like one of those silvery bugs college dorms can’t get rid of. Or rats in the New York subway.

Oh my gosh, she’s a fucking bed bug!

“I think it’s cute.” You kiss his forehead tenderly, and Leon’s light lashes dust your cheeks like spiked plumes. “She could be fun, I bet she’s a virgin too.”

Ashley’s cheeks warm. Is it that obvious? Why is her virginity a topic of discussion anyways? Biologically speaking, like, like hymen-wise, Ashley tore that shit up like a sheet of baking paper the moment she got back from Spain. So she’s not technically an actual virgin, just by, like, modern day standards. Like she’s never let another guy touch her ‘cause they’re not Leon, and it might be childish, but she really wants it to be Leon. She’s kissed a couple girls, but only at sleepovers and only in a friendly way.

“No, god, no fucking way.” He sits up, and she watches him shrug off his jacket like he’s started to overheat. Ashley wishes she could see his face from here. “She’s a kid, babe, I’m not… I can’t do that to her.”

“She’s not a kid, Leon, kids do not have tits like that, I promise you.” You pluck the cherry from his drink. “And she likes you, I don’t see the big deal.”

“She’s… She trusts me, it doesn’t matter if she likes me, she trusts me, and if we do that with her—I can’t have her thinking that I want to date her, I can’t do that to her, she’s a kid, man.”

Ashley wonders if the two of you are looking to find a cute, young girl to kill.

“You’ll change your mind,” is what you tell him, and then you knock back only half of your drink before passing it off to Leon. It’s either that he can’t say no to you or no to a drink, but he takes it and he doesn’t leave a drop.

She hesitates to make herself known. But when else is she going to get the chance to see Leon? He’s busy, and so is she, well, sort of, with parties and sorority and daddy nagging at her.

“Hi.” Ashley slides into the booth and faces you, Leon’s back straightens and he nods at her. Too pissed off to even give her one of his cute smiles.

“Ashley, you look so cute, oh my gosh.” It’s kind of scary how you’re able to fall in and out of speech patterns, putting on your best airhead voice to communicate with Ashley.

“Thanks, so do you!” Ashley thinks brand clashing is tacky, but you pull off Baby Phat jeans and a Von Dutch top pretty effortlessly. You press the sole of your heel to her shin and give her a smile worth dying for.

You don’t dance because Leon refuses, and you say that it’s boring to go on your own, and Ashley knows she’ll be in dire trouble if anyone catches her out here. So you talk, and Ashley listens, and Leon dozes off with his eyes closed. He accepts every drink you give him, and he finishes off all of Ashley’s too. By the end of it, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy like two blue marbles. You make her feel like she needs to fit in, like she needs to keep up and Ashley has never felt that way before.

“Have you fucked a girl before?” You ask her like you’re asking about classes or something so mundane—Not if she’s a fucking lesbian or not.

“What? No, oh my gosh, I’m not like a lesbian,” she mouths the word ‘cause, y’know, that’s weird.

“Have you fucked a guy then?” You tilt your head to the side like you know something, and when Ashley goes to lie she makes the mistake of looking into your eyes.

“No…” Ashley shakes her head slowly, she plays with the hem of her pleated skirt. “I mean like, like, like—“

“It’s totally okay, Ashley.” You wave off her nerves. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“What?” Her eyes bulge out of her skull so fast she gives herself Graves’ disease. “What? Oh my god, like, what?”

Leon is completely disengaged at this point, using a pink straw to stir around melting ice in his cocktail glass. His eyes are dropping, and when he looks up, he gazes at her through his lashes.

“Okay, well, do you want to fuck Leon?”

What is this, like, an interrogation? Ashley hasn’t done anything wrong, not yet at least. Lord, she promises, she hasn’t tried anything funny on Leon—Only once, on the flight back to Spain, and it barely qualifies as a kiss, like she just brushed his lips, it wasn’t anything major.

“Well, well, like, well—“ Ashley stammers for a minute or so, and you look at her all like, ‘take your time’ ‘cause you’re weirdly calm when you say weird fucking things and make her feel weird.

“I don’t mind if you want to fuck him, I’m asking because I think he wants to fuck you.” You’re lying to her face, ‘cause Ashley heard what Leon said, a very clear no, but she believes you anyway ‘cause she wants to believe that Leon wants her. “And I want to fuck you too.”

“I’ll drive,” you tell Leon who doesn’t even look coherent, he slumps back in the passenger seat and looks like he did on the way home from Spain. With his hair falling in his eyes, his lips parted and his hands curled into tight fists. Babies sleep like that.

You make eye contact with Ashley in the rear view mirror and give her a smile so pretty the reflection is blinding enough, she can’t imagine what it looked like up close. She feels like an ant under the burning glow of a magnifying glass. She feels your teeth in her neck. She’s going to feel Leon’s dick inside of her tonight. It might not be entirely legal, but when you’re a girl in a male-dominated world, you have to do what you have to do.

Leon’s house, Ashley thinks as she walks inside, her heels clacking in time with yours.

Leon’s house, Leon’s coat rack, Leon’s plain interior design, Leon’s couch. Leon’s bedroom, Leon’s bed, Leon’s pillow, Leon’s scent. Leon’s girlfriend. Leon Leon Leon.

He’s on his front in bed, still fully clothed, boots and all. You take them off for him and put them to the side, you hang his jacket in his wardrobe, and you begin to take off his jeans. Leon makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat, it’s soft and whiny, the sort of noise a distressed dog makes, and it’s so unlike him she feels something thrumming between her thighs.

“C’mon, baby, lift your hips, it’s just me,” you hum, slipping your hands up his shirt and rubbing circles into his sides, “don’t make a fuss, Leon.”

A second or two pass, and Leon lifts his hips, you wrestle with his jeans and toss them on the floor. No fucking way. No fucking way. There is no way in hell Leon has a nicer ass than her. There is no way in hell Leon doesn’t wear boxers under his jeans, and there is no way in hell this is Ashley’s real actual serious life right now. Like, none of it adds up.

“Oh,” Ashley says softly when she sees his dick. It’s small. Not big. Just—It’s just sort of there. Maybe it’s the angle he's at. Laying on his front, dick laid out on the bed like it’s a toy or something. He would look cute in a jockstrap.

“It’s cute, right?” You pinch his thigh and Leon’s toes curl in his socks. She doesn’t know if you mean his ass or his dick or his balls, they’re pretty cute too. Like. Round and everything balls should be. It’s just—It’s just a little underwhelming. “Roll over, baby.”

He listens like a good dog, rolls onto his back and pants into your mouth when you kiss him. He’s fucking out of it—This isn’t even Leon anymore, Ashley’s not sure if she likes this or not.

She’s not sure if this is how she wants him. It’s not how she’s thought about him on top of her, guiding her, holding her hips and slowing her down when she got ahead of herself.

“Do you want his face or…?” You gesture to his dick and her lust rears its ugly head, she’s willing to overlook the state she’s in to get that dick inside of her. Where it belongs. All four inches tucked away for no one to find. “Ash?”

“Oh… I don’t really know.” Ashley’s bottom lip juts out, because she has always known what she’s wanted, and she always gets what she wants—And now that it’s right in front of her, she can’t even verbalise that yes, she wants his dick so bad, she wants to die and come back to life on that tiny little thing.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You pat the space beside you and she sits, curling into your side as Leon sucks on the tip of your thumb like he's a pin-up girl. “I know it’s not much, but it’s not his fault, I was upset too when he showed me for the first time—“

“No, no—It's not that, oh my god, I’m just, like, nervous.” Ashley shivers as you trail your fingers up and down the jagged edge of her spine, like you’re swiping a credit card. Like you’re trying to open a locked door from the outside.

“Aw, Ashley, you don’t need to be nervous,” you coo, and then you grope her tit so hard she doesn’t have the time to feel nervous, she just feels out of her wits, “he totally likes you, like, I promise, just lay back, ‘kay?”

“Um, okay, I just don’t feel like I should be doing this if Leon is, like, really drunk—“ Ashley yelps as you push her back into the pillows, they’re both flat and blue and they smell like Leon.

You bunch up her skirt above her belly button, toying with the waistband of her panties as you urge Leon to press his face against her puffy pussy. When he sort of slumps into her, head flopping onto her padded thigh, you take him by the hair and force his face into her panty-clad cunt. He’s a fish hooked on a line.

“Good boy,” you praise, hooking your fingers in Ashley’s pink panties and sliding them over the swell of her perky ass and down her legs.

His tongue flicks over her swollen clit, and Ashley lets out a quiet whimper, muffled into the cupped palm of her hand, like she’s trying to keep a secret.

You busy yourself with her tits, telling her that you’ve been waiting to get your hands on them since she wandered into your peripheral. That you noticed them first, and that she shouldn’t be ashamed to show them off. It doesn’t matter what her daddy says.

You’ve got ‘em for a reason, Ashley!

She’s never had her tits played with. Duh. Like, she’s tried pinching her nipples and it’s never done much, but this—Her pussy flutters each time you pop off her hard nipples, leaving your mouth both pinker than they went in.

When her back bows off the bed, none of it is Leon’s doing, his sloppy tongue in her sloppy pussy, giving languid licks up and down her slit from her clit to her hole—It’s you and your quick tongue and your hands on her tits and oh my god, what is wrong with her?

Ashley is not a lesbian and she really likes Leon. She doesn’t know much, but she went into this threesome knowing that, and now you’ve gone and thrown it all up into the air.

She wants someone firm, and you’re giving her all that she needs. You’re kissing her mouth, dribbling your spit onto her tongue and she’s eating it up like a fucking baby bird—What is she doing?

What is Leon doing more importantly? He’s using her pussy as a fucking pillow.

“Baby, are you kidding me? Again?” You whine as you roll him over. “Leon, hello? Leon?” He’s passed out cold, and his fists curl tightly, like a baby. “You always do this to me, Leon, it’s so embarrassing, get up!”

With your spit coating her lips, and the faint tingle of aftershocks, the ghost of Leon’s lips on her clit, Ashley thinks she has a lot of things to figure out. Like, is she a lesbian? And is Leon really like that in bed? Does he even know how to, like, do things without your help? Would she have to guide him?

Ashley’s, like, so not experienced enough to guide him, and she doesn’t even know how lube works. Like, do you put it on the pussy or the dick? And is she meant to put the condom on Leon, or is he meant to do it for her?

All she knows is that you’ll be there to help her along the way, but she’s totally not a lesbian and she totally still likes Leon. Like. Seriously. Cross her heart and hope to die.

(Are all guys like that in bed? Or is it because he’s drunk? Is this legal? Is legal sex better? Would legal sex with Leon make him a little better at it?)

[allaboutalf]

If you like or follow that disturbing Samantha person who has just started watching the show but has gone down the toxic delulu shipper path so fast they are now trying to spread lies about Lou and bring hate to him over a TV ship I want you to block me, thanks! Cause that ain’t it and they need serious help and anyone who likes or agrees with them needs a serious reality check.

And I’m not surprised to see that Amanda person in their likes cause that person is exactly the same.

I have now blocked both on multiple platforms and encourage everyone to do the same. No matter who you ship. Cause we don’t need people like that in the fandom.

Imagine hating an actor and trying to turn everything they do into an issue because they play a character who you think gets in the way of the ship you like. That’s definitely something you should work through with a mental health professional.

If I were the PR for that network/show or those actors they’d be on my watch/black list so fast cause that’s super concerning behavior.

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[rotisseries]

inspired by elli's poll lol cause this seems fun actually but if you guys have bad answers I'll kill myself on your doorstep or smth

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it

[elytrafemme]

okay i will actually stop the public breakdown sort of now because it's kind of embarrassing but i do need to point out that my girlfriend sent me a video which i do not find funny and like i'm already splitting right now and i really do not need this energy in my life where are the funny men like what are we doing here

[nereidprinc3ss]

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

-------------------------------

Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes. 

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening. 

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip. 

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed. 

“Why not?” 

“’Cause I want you to be awake.” 

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks. 

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment. 

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes. 

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. 

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling. 

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face.  “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair. 

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously. 

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone. 

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes. 

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss. 

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.  

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating. 

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily. 

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them. 

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch. 

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips. 

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills. 

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you. 

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already. 

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine. 

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin. 

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying. 

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom. 

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you. 

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off. 

Maybe even especially then. 

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth. 

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp. 

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic. 

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit. 

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more. 

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back. 

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon. 

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation. 

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense. 

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name. 

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.  

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system. 

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again. 

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin. 

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows. 

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts. 

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once. 

“Handles! Duh!”

[sttoru]

hueheueheu if its okay can i req rich bf aventurine? Always spoiling reader and buys everything she wants 🥹🥹

✸ SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend, aventurine spoils you in more ways than one when you come back to your shared hotel room in penacony.

note. uhh, this actually turned out a tad more melodramatic than i expected help, i put some of my own twists in there. first aventurine fic so sorry if its too ooc !

tags. aventurine x female reader. fluff, bits of angst, suggestive. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty’. use of aventurine’s real name once. reader is a bit insecure at one point. little bits of penacony and aventurine lore / subtle spoiler to the 2.1 quest. wc: 1.4k-ish

“c’mere, pretty.” aventurine’s voice soothes your weary body the moment you step into your shared hotel room. you’ve just gotten back from some business you had to take care of—a couple hours of your valuable day wasted because of it.

you’re greeted by your lover sitting on one of the red couches, accompanied by various bags and boxes all around the space. aventurine shoots you his signature smile. one that’s actually genuine. the one he only shows you.

“must’ve been tough, hm? i’m sorry i couldn’t help you out,” the blonde man sighs as he stands up to meet you halfway. a gloved hand finds its way onto yours, fingers intertwining without wasting a second.

aventurine places a delicate kiss on your palm and slowly moves down to your wrist. his beautiful eyes lure you in, “you’d forgive me for that, right?”

you don’t realise that you’re practically frozen in place until he chuckles in amusement. you snap out of it and clear your throat, trying to get yourself together, “y-yeah. i understand you’re busy ‘n all. it’s no problem.”

aventurine hums in response. there’s a faint flash of guilt in his eyes before it disappears like it was never there. like it was a delusion. well, perhaps it was. staying in penacony for too long causes you to have difficulties differing reality from dreams and vice versa.

“i’m happy to have you back with me,” aventurine pulls you closer by the small of your back. he presses you against him until your chests are touching. his breath is pleasantly warm against your bare skin, “i’ve been waiting for you all day.”

the tension in the hotel room is heavy. it’s like this every time you’re with your lover. the spark never dies between you two. it never will. you both need each other, in unspoken ways.

you avert your gaze to the ground. no matter how much time you spend with aventurine, his affectionate gestures never fail to make you melt into a puddle. maybe it’s in those eyes of his. or in his homelike touch.

aventurine continues peppering you with kisses. he doesn’t miss a spot—every patch of skin you’re showing is showered in his love. that’s one of the only ways he can illustrate those complicated feelings inside of him.

his lips eventually find yours, like a force drawn to a magnet. you cup his face and deepen the kiss. your lips move in sync, slowly and passionately. you need this as much as he does.

the way he’s holding onto your coat—his fingers digging into the material as if he’s missed you greatly. . . his tongue trying to seek entrance into your mouth as if he can’t wait to be one with you. to try and love you like you love him. . .

a light hearted chuckle makes you pull away. you open your eyes and find aventurine grinning down at you, his finger rubbing your bottom lip gently to tease you.

“haha, how cute.” the blonde man snickers at your needy expression. he knows what you want, and he wants it as well, though there’s enough time for that after, “we can get to that later, yeah?”

"aww, 'kay,” you nod with a pout, to which aventurine responds by gently flicking your forehead. he grabs your hand and leads you to the nearby table. you can’t even see the surface because of the numerous boxes placed on it.

“i want to show you what i got you first,” aventurine continues, sitting down on the comfy couch. he pulls you onto his lap and wraps one arm around your waist, the other one reaching out towards the mountain of fancy gifts.

you can easily recognise the expensive bags by now. aventurine is known for spoiling you rotten. the overpriced brands are nothing but child's play to the lucky man. money isn’t a worry to him, nor should it be for you, as he says every time you feel the slightest bit guilty for his big spendings on you.

“kakavasha..” you mutter under your breath. aventurine doesn't respond, but he reassures you by lightly tightening his grip on your waist. you turn your head and look at him. he isn’t looking back at you this time. rather, he’s looking down at the box in your hand, patiently waiting for you to open it.

you wordlessly undo the wrappers and open up the first gift of many. it’s an earring. one that resembles his. it shines brightly once you pick it up. the color is beautiful, as it reminds you of your lover.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t want to guess how much aventurine has spent on it either. you love him, that you surely do, but are you really deserving of this much? he spoils you every day. all that money he spends on you without hesitation makes you overthink.

you shake your head and try to get those negative thoughts out of your head. you don’t want to ruin this precious moment all too much. you smile fondly and put the earring on, “thank you so much. it's so pretty.”

the jewelry dangles off your left ear, the opposite of where aventurine’s got his hanging. the blonde man silently admires you. the light illuminating the stones gives you an ethereal look. especially in a dimly lit room with only a few light sources.

“no need to thank me, baby,” aventurine murmurs, his voice a surprisingly soft whisper. his thumb trails down the shell of your ear and eventually touches the earring again. the fact that you’re wearing the exact same one as he is, but on the opposite ear, is doing indescribable things to him.

you complete each other.

all his life, aventurine has never properly taken the time to appreciate his gift; his luck. he is doing so now—with you in his embrace. it’s like his surroundings have come to a halt. all that his eyes are focusing on, is you. the image of you in his arms.

“it suits you perfectly.” aventurine’s voice trembles lightly. he doesn't know why he's feeling like this. he’s overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have someone so breath-takingly beautiful in his presence. “gorgeous—you’re gorgeous.”

aventurine is not the only one who’s flustered. your own heart is pounding in your chest. your lover knows just what buttons to push to make you all flustered. he succeeds without fail every single time.

you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his torso. aventurine welcomes the affection without a word. you look up at your partner with a softened expression before complimenting him back, “no, you are. you are beautiful."

aventurine’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips parting. you’s aware of the effects your compliments have on him. they make him feel giddy, however he also isn’t the best at expressing that. he regains his composure and grins, “oh, really? hah, how flattering.”

you giggle quietly and nod. you’re content with this. being in your lover’s arms after a rough day, unpacking the many gifts he got you, receiving his attention and affection. you wish you could do this for eternity.

after you’ve shared your precious moment together, aventurine leans agains the back of the couch and pulls you into a warm hug. one you both simply had to have. your lover starts to pat your head in a soothing manner.

the silence in the hotel room is deafening. the opened gifts and abandoned wrappers lay scattered around the table and floor. the static of the television in the distance is somehow comforting.

both aventurine and you realise that this instant will be over as soon as the next day arrives. it’s but a fleeting moment, one that will sooner or later be just another memory. you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and he answers this by kissing your forehead. his lips leave a tingling sensation on your skin.

the comfortable silence continues for a couple seconds more. aventurine stares up at the ceiling. he’s sure that he’s satisfied for now, yet there’s still unease boiling in the pit of his stomach.

perhaps it’s due to his knowledge of the near future. his grande plan.

but, that’s not what’s important. not when aventurine can feel and hear your heartbeat right next to him. he hasn’t lost it all. not yet. he’s still got time to spend with the other gift that was bestowed upon him at birth: you.

“you’ll stay with me, right? no matter what.”

aventurine’s sudden question breaks the quiet atmosphere. you open your eyes again and tilt your head back, gazing down at your lover. one look at his face and you know that he needs your honesty at the moment. more than anything else in the entire universe.

you nod and lean in to kiss him—to show him that you mean it when you say; “yes. no matter what.”

[always---wrong]

I found a new thing that absolutely gets on my nerves.

I was scrolling through the Alastor Aroace tag as you do and I keep seeing people say things like, 'if he's Aroace then why so fruity' or 'how can he be Aroace if he acts like this' referencing to the fact that he is eccentric and silly.

All I can think is, um, why is that important, like at all? I was already annoyed by the fact that people just say someone is gay simply because they act a certain way, that is both offensive to gay people and puts people in boxes, but now it's grown to be more than a frustration.

I mean, do people not see how freaking offensive that is? And it seems as if it's genuine sometimes and even if it's not it's not a funny joke.

What do you mean you don't think he can't be Aroace cause he kicks his feet and drops his wrist? That has nothing to do with sexual or romantic orientation! It's so... It makes me feel like him being Aroace is just a joke to them. That it's more of a silly note the author made than real representation.

Do these people not realize we can see things and that we exist? That, maybe, not every character you find fun and attractive is a gay man?

I just saw a Tiktok where it's like, 'I think he wants a man,' to that one scene of kicking his feet and it pissed me off.

Anyways, I just needed to say that.

[cupcakeslushie]

Hi as a Donnie fictive i just wanted to say that your abusive Kendratello AU thing is actually the worst thing I've ever seen in my entire life and it makes me feel something visceral and awful down in my very core. There is nothing good about it, even from an angsty standpoint. Thank you for putting it all over the Kendratello tag when i'm just trying to look at cute, creative stuff. That's really awesome.

It is genuinely my least favorite piece of Rise fan content and probably the worst Kendra characterization done by anyone ever. Obviously i'm not telling you to shut it all down, it's your internet corner, do whatever you want with it, but i just had to tell you how much i hate this because it genuinely makes me feel insane.

What makes a person want to create shit like this? It's giving angst for no reason or purpose other than to have angst. It sucks. Fat ass and nuts. Have a blessed day.

Lol this is the funniest thing ever. Can you just imagine being such a stubborn idiot, you put yourself through seeing something you hate over and over and over? Telling yourself there’s no way you could possible escape it, when the block function exists? I certainly can’t imagine being that thick.

I just imagine this child sobbing over their computer, like not knowing how to get away from my shitty AU, so they instead think the best option is to, what? Bully me into stopping? Like I would care about their opinion enough to be like shamed into stopping? What was the point of this ask??? 😂😂😂. What did you think you would accomplish, besides looking like a moron, pitching a fit, that even my little two year old nephew would be embarrassed by. I’m fascinated.

I know there’s no cure for stubborn idiots, but I’ll offer some advice, since you can’t seem to understand how the internet works. Block the tag “kendratello au”, which I put on all of my posts regarding this AU. Or even better, block me completely, cause you irritating. You’ll never have to see your “least favorite Rise fan content” ever again.

Have a shitty day ✌️

[predestinatos]

'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

 You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

[bambi-slxt]

Could you write something with Matt or Chris (or both!) and a chubby/not petite reader? I don't see a lot of those and would really appreciate it!

Doesn't have to be smut, it can be more in the style of your non-binary post or love languages. Thank you!

oh honey. of course i can.

chubby!reader:

✨a concept✨

a/n: i'm not petite and i never have been. this post is not intended to cause body dysmorphia to those who are, but rather promote and uplift those who have more fat on them than what's normally represented in the fanfiction space. i hope you enjoy this one anon!

doing their makeup at a sleep over -

chris: "yeah, come on, sit on my lap. no, seriously. i don't mind. come here, mamas." *kisses* "there we go. now put this shit on my face before i change my mind."

matt: "you were saying something about hooded lids? yeah, i don't think i have those. what do you mean people have different eyelid shapes. what the fuck. you have to look up different- jesus christ i'm glad i don't fuck with this stuff."

watching a scary movie -

chris: "i never shoulda' agreed to this. what spell do you have me under? i hate you. no like actually." *holding your hand for dear life and also shaking like a chihuahua*

matt: "-genuinely fucking terrifying. what? why do I have to be the one who tells you when it's over? i don't wanna look either!" *long-suffering sigh*

swimming -

chris: "i don't want you to look like a model, i want you to look like you. you look real, and you feel real...when i look at my girl all i see is how beautiful you are. no, i'm being serious. especially wearin' the stuff i bought you."

matt: "it's just us, darlin'. i've seen all of you before. i know what you look like, and i love you because of it. get in the water so we can play mermaids."

clothes shopping -

chris: "what the Actual Fuck are these designs. this is the plus size section? what a waste of space? i'll make you better clothes. yeah, i'm serious. you like my brand better anyway. jesus christ, i'm sorry."

matt: "...is this really what you want to wear? no? okay so let's leave. yeah, this isn't your style at all. i don't care, i'll shop with you all fucking week if that's what it takes. you're not gonna settle on this shit if it's not what you want."

going to the gym -

chris: "come on, you got it. i know it hurts but you're almost done, come on. don't you dare stop, there we go...there we go, you're good, you're good, get some water...that was a new PR baby, i'm so fucking proud of you. hell yeah, you did so good...damn i don't even think i can get that...fuck you..."

matt: "why the fuck would we go to the gym when the bed is right there? absolutely not. we can work out in my bed-"

streaming together -

chris: "no we're playing fortnite, get on here. i don't care. we've played fallout all week i wanna play duos, pleasepleaseplease-thankssss. yeah we can hop on stream. nah, they love you. trust. you wanna get ready first? i think you look great, but it's up to you, mamas. i want you to be confident, you know that."

matt: "if they have something to say i'll just rip 'em a new one and kiss you on stream. yeah. no i'm dead serious. there's my girl. come on, let's play."

boyfriend hoodies -

chris: "course it fits. i got bigger ones for me so you could steal them. you're such a thief. i love you. what? i didn't say anything..."

matt: "i'm gonna freeze. no no, take it, take my only source of warmth. i'm not bitter. come here lemme cuddle you i'm fucking cold."

a/n: hope you like this nonnie!

request to be on the taglist under this post right here, make sure your mentions are on!

tags: @selenascorner @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @madisturn @mattspolitank @sturnsxplr-25 @xtravrgnoliveoil @raysmayhem-72 @sturnpooks @certifiedstarrr @melanch0lybby @freshloveforthefit @xoxo4chrisss @stunza @meerkatzthings  @zivall @sturniolopepsi @that1fangirll @wh0schl0 @sharksworldd @mattscoquette @chrisslutx @sturnzsblog @sturniologals @quaxkingshs @certifiedstarrr @sarosfilms @mattsfavbigtitties @slutforsturniolos 

[lunarfleur]

Earth 42! Miles Morales Datings Hcs

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin

Warnings:Mentions of his job as the prowler

A/N: I’m literally in love with him help

This is x gender neutral reader!

This boy is not your sugar daddy. Be fr.

Does he have extra cash? Yeah.

But he’s not your sugar daddy. That is a child.

He’s honestly not that different from Earth 1610! Miles, he’s just been through a lot more shit

He’s still a dork, deep down.

But let’s get the inevitabilities out of the way

Spanish nicknames, for sure. I don’t speak Spanish, but it’d just be the ones everyone in the community thinks he would use 😭

As well as baby and babe.

This boy is a hugger in every universe

He would never openly say, “I need a hug.” But, he’d pull you in or bury his face in your neck

It gets the point across

I think for both versions of Miles, he keeps his room clean for you

His mom always gets on him for it, so it’s just habit to have his room clean

Picking up any and all dirty clothes, vacuuming, dusting, that kind of thing.

It’s typically clean anyways, but he makes sure it’s as clean as possible for you

Movie nights whenever he doesn’t get called into work. You’re tucked against him. One arm is around your shoulder, the other hand is rested comfortably on your thigh.

This boy loves loves loves forehead kisses, both giving and receiving

A lot of times he gives them as apologies

He couldn’t make a date, so he’s kissing your forehead after kissing your lips and apologizing so so genuinely

But you give him one? He’s dying.

You’re in his lap, and you just *mwah?*

He’s a goner

Let’s be honest, he’s young and in love. You make him excited.

Make out sessions are both common and enjoyable

He knows not to take too far, of course, but he can’t help but love on you

But make outs are never for public

He’s not ashamed of PDA, but he doesn’t think anyone else should see something so intimate.

But he’ll kiss you, hold your hand, leave his arm around your shoulders, and basically all the other toned down displays of affection

The only people that are afraid of him are the ones who have caused problems with him

He’s lived in New York all his life. A lot of kids know him. A lot of kids know that he just changed after he lost his dad

The ignorant ones start fights with him. The ignorant ones lose fights with him.

Because this boy can scrap

He’s not really some big, bad bully who runs his school or whatever

He sticks to being a loner, with the exception of you.

He still maintains good grades and behavior and all that

He doesn’t really get in trouble for fighting because he’s never the one who starts it

It’s self defense, you know?

There’s only 3 people in his life that he genuinely cares about: You, his mom, and his uncle.

Of course, he wants you to meet them

So he brings you home one day

And, luckily for you, they’re both easy to get along with

But he’s okay with not meeting your family

If you don’t want him to, he doesn’t have to

Fights with him go one of two ways, depending on the severity of the situation.

A:It’s a very serious, tense discussion. He doesn’t put any distance between you two, maybe holding your hand or keeping his knee touching yours. He speaks carefully and he listens to you.

This Miles doesn’t yell. Not at you, not at his mom, basically never.

B: You two give each other space. He makes sure you’re home safely, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead, before giving both of you time to calm down and think everything over.

And then once you two are ready, you talk things over and he apologizes. This leads to soft make outs and/or cuddles.

But we all know he’s The Prowler

He’s not a villain, necessarily. He doesn’t kill people for the fun of it. He kills people who deserve it. Criminals, people who have genuinely hurt others.

He didn’t wait too long to tell you, actually.

It was only a month or two.

He liked you, genuinely, and it shocked him to his core. He knew his job would put distance between you two. He didn’t want that. Miles wanted things with you to go right.

He told you cautiously, and made sure to explain what he did and why.

It made sense, it really did. And he made sure to keep you away from it all.

It was hard to handle at first, but eventually you came to terms with it.

He was honestly terrified that you’d be scared of him. He’s still a kid, remember.

Sometimes, he gets called in and can’t make a date.

But Miles hates it and makes damn good sure he makes it up to you

He keeps tabs of everything he’s missed

He’s a sweetheart, honestly.

He gives you things, like gifts and his clothes and full access to his room

And he’s always making sure you’re in the best of moods

You’re crying? He’s doing everything he can to fix it.

Miles isn’t a bad boyfriend, it just takes some time to understand him.

[callofdudes]

Hello how are you are you good? May I ask for some headcanons? Please make it longer if possible. A wonderful cook with a female reader. For Ghost Simon and (separately)Konig, please? if you do this can you tag me in the post too please? have a nice day

No I totally didn't lose this in my drafts while trying to come up with stuff. I do hope the length is ok, sorry that it took so long 😓

Y'all are wholesale today! I like it! Thank you for the request @simligul I tried to make it as long as I could so I hope you enjoy.

Female! Cook x The Tall Boys.

(Each tall boy sold separately)

Ghost:

He cannot cook to save his life. He knows how to put honey on bread and that is the extent of his knowledge.

He's gotten used to the MRE's that they're mandated to eat, but the first time you cook him a meal from scratch he falls more than he thought he ever could.

This man straight up either eats MRE's when he's at home or orders skip the dishes constantly to the point where it's kind of unhealthy.

Before you were living together he didn't know you could cook. He'd taken you out to restaurants but hadn't ever witnessed you active in a kitchen before.

So when he does...

You smile when he approached the kitchen, curious of the wonderful smells that are being produced. His nose leads him right to you in your apron with stains all over the cloth.

"What is this?" He asks, admiring the scene from the doorway and the apron you wore.

"What do you think? I'm making food."

He poked his head around and eyed the different ingredients simmering and popping in pans on the stove and his stomach cries out loudly. He looks back at you and you laugh at how he's practically begging you with his eyes. "Get out of my kitchen, I'll call you when it's done!"

He will come back every now and then to check on you (and the food).

When you finally set up the table and call him to eat he is borderline hyper. He sees all the steaming beautiful food and he will devour it all.

You are too good for him. Before he even sits down he will assure you that it looks absolutely delicious.

When he does manage to sit down and starts eating his stomach is beyond grateful. He had gotten so used to eating MRE's that he had genuine forgotten what it was like to eat a real meal. When he gets through the first three thrill bites his stomach grows three times the size. You yourself are a bit surprised by how much he ate. You barely had any leftovers to pack up.

Full of food and warm he'll hug you from behind while your washing the dishes and mutter thanks into your neck.

He'll hang around you for the rest of the evening and gratefully crash next to you in pure bliss.

From the day you first cooked for him forth Ghost longs for the days when he can return from war to your loving arms and a home cooked meal.

After going back to camp he'll occasionally mention that the food there tastes like shit compared to what you can make. This causes Soap to want to come with him on leave just to taste your food.

"I've missed you." He'll hug you close and rest against you for a while before taking off his head and stepping into the living room. Before he can even take his boots off he can smell the thick aroma of food. His stomach praises you loudly, making you giggle.

He takes off all his things and kisses you before going over to the kitchen. Again he will praise you for every bit of food on the table.

If he comes home after you've already packed up for bed, he'll check the fridge for food and there will be a little sticky note on the containers of leftovers. "Hey love. Sorry I couldn't be there to greet you. Tonight's dinner is xyz, have as much as you'd like."

He misses you when he isn't able to come back for the holidays. He loves hanging out with you around Christmas and Thanksgiving. But the food you make is so good around the holidays. He's always surprised by just how much effort you put into meals.

He tries to keep mention of you around base low. While he enjoys talking about you, he doesn't like the constant teasing from the others. But when Johnny starts to hear more about how good a cook you supposedly are, he is on his knees begging to come back to Simon's home with him for the holidays. And Simon was going to refuse, until somehow he didn't.

He thought you were going to be abrasive about all the guests when he showed up at his home with Price, Johnny, and Kyle right behind him, but you welcomed them with open arms.

Ghost smiled when you opened your arms and welcomed Price into your home. How you smiled so kindly and you were genuinely happy they were there.

There was no anger for being intruded on or barging to reach your husband, it was heartwarming to watch how you treated them.

When you'd met everyone and shaken their hands, you greeted Simon who was still taking his coat off. But that didn't matter. You pulled him into a short kiss before urging him toward the couch.

Simon and Price tried to help you with setting up the guest bedroom but you weren't having it.

"You lot must be exhausted. Sit, I'll have supper prepared in an hour." Simon smiled. "You're wonderful." You shoved him down onto the couch. "Rest, hang out with your friends." And you walked off to start preparing the guest room for the three.

You were right to assume they were exhausted. They tore their gear off and settled down on the couches. Finally getting to watch some good TV.

They didn't bother to move for the rest of the evening until you called them to dinner.

"Dinner is served boys!"

Kyle and Johnny were the first ones up and sprinting for the kitchen. Their stomachs empty of anything but the McDonald's they'd had early before their flight out.

Johnny was in heaven when he came in and saw the food. It was enough to feed a small army. He grabbed your hands and shook them roughly. "Oh Mrs. Riley you're an angel." You chuckled and handed him a plate as Simon and Price came in to inspect the food. "Take as much as you'd like, don't worry about leftovers and if I need to make more I can."

"Thank you ma'am." Price served himself.

Once they'd vacated the kitchen Simon gave you another kiss and took what the boys had left. "Do you want any?" He asked.

"Have it darling. You deserve it."

The boys were impressed with your cooking the first time. But when the 25 of December rolled around three days later it was a feast. You were happy to have Simon's friends along with your family for Christmas.

"Any friend of Simon's is a friend of mine. You are always welcome in our home."

Jokingly you get Simon a cookbook for Christmas so he can take it to the base with him. Whenever he gets the chance to go shopping (which is rarely) at least he'll be able to make something comprehendable with the foods.

Simon does eventually ask you to teach him to cook. And you'd thought he'd never ask. You started with basic recipes, something he could remember easily and come back to. A starter. And then you got out of hand. Sauce all over your apron and Simon getting his oil covered fingers all over you.

You taught him to bake as well. Because who else is going to make the 141 cookies? You couldn't keep sending them in boxes every month when mail slots opened up.

Simon enjoys baking more than cooking. He will lick all the utensils. If you're making chocolate cookies he'll lick the spoon/spatula/whisk, whatever you used he'll lick it clean. And you need to constantly supervise him when baking because will 100% eat raw cookie dough without fear of consequences.

"Simon! Don't eat that! You'll get sick!"

"fuck off!" He'll say as he playfully pushes you away and grabs another handful of dough.

If he ever comes across a dish he likes or thinks he'd like, he'll send a picture of it to you. When he goes to Mexico Rodolfo takes care of meals for the group and If Ghost likes something he'll hint you off like, "Hey Y/N, look at this really delicious looking dish... A shame I'll only be able to eat it once. Unless..."

Another thing he enjoys about it, is not just the food. But watching you cook. You have a smile on your face the whole time and you seem in utter bliss to cook for you, him, or anyone else.

And the apron.

Teasingly pulling on the strings from behind you or helping you take it off. It's small but it manages to mesmerize him every time.

If you are part of the military most of this still stands, when you first cool for him and the boys he's stunned and amazed. Maybe he's a little annoyed that you didn't start making food sooner when everyone was bitching and moaning about MRE's.

In the very, very, very rare instances where Simon is sick you're the type to not let him out of bed. Simon is either so sick he's unable to move or he can power through it, there is no difference to you. You'll lay him in bed and bring in a warm bowl of soup. And while Simon protests you'll cup his jaw and help him eat.

"I don't need help-"

"Shh, lay down Simon, let me take care of you."

"I hate how sweet you are."

"I love you too."

König:

König knows a little about cooking, but not a lot. His mother taught him him how to make basic cultural dishes including some sweets.

He enjoys cooking on the occasion but the military doesn't offer him much for culinary adventure. So he's become less fluent. Put him in a kitchen however and he could make you a warm meal from his heart.

When you first cook for him, his mouth is watering. He's absolutely starving when he gets home from base and his surprise when he came to see you and your house was swimming with the smells of culinary love.

He'll slip into the kitchen and eyeball all the stuff that's going on. In a heartbeat he's on his knees for whatever your making.

"Darling- please! I haven't eaten a proper meal in so long!"

"Get out of my Kitchen König, I will call you when it's ready. Just rest."

This man will sit by the corner of your kitchen. He will make sure he's pressed up against the wall but not entering the space. He'll crawl into a ball and whimper to make sure you remember he's sitting there.

"König, it'll only take a couple of minutes." You chuckled when he starts to slowly drag himself back into the kitchen hoping you wouldn't notice.

When you finish up he is giving you the biggest puppy eyes he can. It's as if his irises grew in size, they're practically sparkling when you motion with your finger and he jumps up. "YES! Thank you!"

He grabs a plate and doesn't hold back to shovel food onto his plate and rush to the table to consume it all. There is barely enough for you this big boy took so much.

He's scarfing it down when you take your seat and all you can do is just lovingly stare at him. His eyes are practically glazed over when he tastes it on his tongue.

"Darling, this is absolutely amazing, thank you."

"You're welcome König, you deserve it."

This man goes into a full food comma. When he's out his plate in the dishwasher he goes and passes out on the couch. You find it absolutely adorable.

He's just passed out. Usually when König comes back home it takes him at least a day or two to take the hood off and another couple to full relax. But tired and full it's the first time you've seen him throw his hood on the coffee table and just pass out without a worry.

You're not even complaining.

König and you exchange recipes. While you teach him some of the dishes he doesn't know how to make, he'll show you how to make dishes from his home.

When he gets back he will not shut up about you. He won't tell new recruits or other members unless their already friends, subject of his anxiety. But he loves to talk about you with his small group of friends and his operatives team. You're his shining light.

When he starts digging into military food again his head is just filling with all the ways you could cook this so much better and slop in a tube was just as bad as it was when he first signed up.

He finds himself getting particularly homesick now whenever he eats food that is not cooked by you. He always thinks about the dish and it will relate back to you in some way.

After König teaches you to make his favorite sweets, you make sure to send him a tightly sealed box of them every month for him. (If they can survive over time ofc)

He shares with his team because he wants them to also taste your baking and cooking. He will proudly tell them how wonderful you are and after tasting the sweets they all agree.

König is a little more lenient with his leave time, so he gets to see you somewhat more often then others. When he returns again around Thanksgiving he isn't expecting utterly extravagant meal he finds.

He slouched against the door, tired and gross. He looks up when you come over. Your apron on and your hair up. You gasp when you see him. "I thought you were coming back tomorrow?"

König tiredly shakes his hand and opens his arms for you to rush into. He's sore but he hugs you tightly. You smell of freshly baked goods and spices. He breathes you in deeply and he knows he's home. He sighs and nuzzles his forehead against yours.

"I've got food on the table love, come join whenever you're ready."

"Thank you meine liebe."

When he does join you he takes in all the smells of home. His mind and his body starting to relax just at the hand of the fruits of your labor.

You guide him to the table and get him a plate. The area is well lit when he returns to make him feel comfortable.

The two of you will talk as he eats. And it's not unusual for him to go back for seconds or thirds. Sometimes if he's extra hungry he'll raid the pantry for food.

Crashing in bed after a warm meal is the best feeling. His stomach sated, he wraps his arms around you and feels his worries slip away.

You crawl in bed next to him and snuggle up against him. "Goodnight" and despite his food coma, König pulls you to his chest, content to stay here forever.

When he's on leave he offers to bring Horangi back to stay with you both, just so you can taste the food. He has no plans for his leave except sitting in the kitchen and enjoying whatever warm meal you've set up for him.

Bringing Horangi back then were both incredibly excited about your cooking. König could almost taste it and Horangi had heard many good things.

You were overjoyed to have Horangi over and cooked a feast for the two. Horangi's mouth was watering and all König could say was "Seeeee!"

Both König and Horangi sit by the kitchen entrance, watching you like cats going back and forth, back and forth.

The smell of the food is not lost on them when you bring them into the kitchen finally. Seeing everything you've prepared.

"This looks stunning ma'am, thank you a thousand times for having me." Horangi took your hands and squeezed them, unable to contain his excitement. Or his hunger. His stomach started to snarl before he could finish his expression of gratitude.

You once again stand back and let the men eat what the want. You weren't at all surprised when Horangi had just the appetite that König did.

It was funny watching them talk while they feasted, occasionally melting and having a brain aneurysm over how good it was.

Compared to the food on base, Horangi will now get on his knees and kiss the ground you walk on. You are a fucking angel for taking care of him when he comes over.

He will not stop talking about "König's wife can cook!! And you don't get any of it, because you're not invited! 😏"

König is just glad you're there for his friends, willing to provide hospitality and food. You can't turn down anyone it seems.

But he wouldn't change that about you.

He loves to dance in the kitchen with you. If you're cooking something and you have music in the background, König will come over, hands cupping your waist and drawing you toward him.

"And what are you doing??" You hold a spatula covered in sauce up to him and he licks it happily. "What does it look like??" You pulls you in and twirls you around the kitchen.

"König, watch out for the stove." You giggle.

He keeps turning and spinning you, pressing kisses to your throat and cheeks.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too you big goof."

He smiles, nuzzling against your neck, the smell of the spices imprinting on your skin. They must have. After you've cooked an apple pie you still smell of cinnamon. And it drives him crazy.

König loves you so much, he wouldn't dream his life any other way. And certainly not without you in it. He gives you another kiss and you shove him out of your kitchen.

"Food isn't really yet."

"But looooove-!" He whines.

"No, you'll have to wait. Like a good boy." You smirk.

He huffs, but he can't say no to that. So he plops down and sits longingly at the entrance of the kitchen, watching you as you cook.

[lainsshop]

I’m Your Man ୨ৎ

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: angst(?), established relationship, out of character(?) n probably more..

Song: I’m Your Man - Mitski

A/N: i really don’t know about this one.. give me your thoughts tho!

Alastor is known as a huge narcissist, sure but you were the only one who got to see the “real” him, not only the real murderous side of him but also the soft spot he has for you. You made him feel.. weak?

Ever since you two got together, he view you as you were apart of him like an accessory but also much more than that, his lover. He absolutely adored you, you really accepted his flaw self even if he doesn’t admit he doesn’t have flaws.

He never wanted to admit to so many things cause he believes one second of him showing his weak self will make his enemies aware of that and it will put him and yourself in even more danger.

You were also the only one who got to see him in a vulnerable state, which is rare to be honest. Maybe he doesn’t wanna worry you, he really doesn’t but every time he’s in that state he would always come to you and you will listen to his words.

“You’re an angel, I’m a dog,” He started to slowly say as you two were in the hotels library. The door was locked, the sound of rain and fire cracking could be heard and a sweet slow tune next to you as you play with his hair and ears carefully.

“… or your dog and I’m your man.” There was times were he gets.. poetic in some way. Luckily, you knew what the meaning of his words meant.

He didn’t looked at you in the eyes. “You believe me like a God,” He continued. “I’ll destroy you like I am-” Oh, he could. He could easily hurt you in a second, he doesn���t tho. You being so near to him is like a risk to both of you cause he never hesitates to do anything. Like that night..

“I’m sorry I’m the one you love..” You see, you two met when you were alive, you were a lil bit younger than him by that time and he involved you into his weird habits like killing people, cannibalism, so much more and then your death..

Deep down, he blamed himself for that. That night, he took you into the woods to hide a body, usually it went well but then you guys got mistaken as a deer and the hunter got you first.. he looked at you dead body and then- he woke up in hell.

He couldn’t even process what happened in that exact moment so when he appeared in hell, he wasn’t surprised at all but then he remembered you. He genuinely thought you went to heaven but then again.. you helped him so he looked around.

“No one will ever love me like you again, my dear,” He finally looked at you as he grabbed you hand and gave it a small kiss. “So when you leave me, I should die.. I deserve it, don’t I?”

You froze a bit at that. You looked at him with a surprised, shocked and worried expression. “Al-” “I can feel it gettin’ near like flashlights comin’..” You wanted to tell him how much you meant you him, how even if he’s not the affectionate type or how much of a bad he is, you still loved him ever since the day you met but-

“One day, you’ll figure me out..” There was apart him that you really didn’t knew and he feared that. He feared that one day you’ll know more about him, more deeper about him and leave him. You knew his murderous way, yes but do you actually?

“I’ll meet judgement by the hounds,” A silent scratchy static could be heard as he said the last word. He was still smiling as he spoke.

“You always gave me love, you were never to blame after all, mon ange..” He looked at you with a bit of sad soft eyes as he cups your cheek and his thumb strokes your under eye.

The sudden sound of dogs start to appear outside in the rain. You two looked at each other as you had watery eyes trying not to get emotional or anything. There was silence between you two until-

“You believe me like a God-” A tear fell down your cheek. You suddenly hug him, not too tight, just enough to show him that you cared about him and you didn’t care how he really is.

He started to caress your hair. “I’ll betray you like a man.”

© LAINSSHOP 2024

[fallow-hollow]

Hiii I am Dying of nervousness sending in a request for the first time but could I get Mithrun and a gn!reader? Nothing else needs to be specific, just that (sorry if I am making it difficult for you ^^')

body heat

…ft! mithrun x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon, spoilers for manga and ending, established relationship, cuddling

…word count! 955

…notes! don’t see a lotta mithrun content out there, so i’m happy to write for him! i hope this meets your expectations anon!!

“Mithruuuun,” you whined, unable to see your lover even when looking over your shoulder. “C’mere with me and light the fire already, it’s so cold in here.”

Mithrun shot you a glance from where he stood a distance away, despite the fact that you couldn’t return it. “Is it? I can’t tell.”

His flat tone of voice made it even more obvious that the elf truly knew nothing of the agony you were experiencing, imbuing you with a sense of lighthearted frustration. Tossing your head back, you would groan,

“Of course you can’t tell, you’d wear a flowy tunic even if it was a blizzard outside! Now come help me!”

Without as much of a sound to warn you, the man suddenly appeared at your side, causing you to both jump and squeak from the spontaneous nature of his movement. Scratch that, knowing him, it was probably teleportation. Hardly necessary, considering how close you were, but you wouldn’t put it past your lover to do such a thing just to scare you. What a tease…..

“I don’t mind helping you, but sometimes I do wonder if you choose not to do it on your own just to spend time with me.”

Now, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Mithrun to say something like this completely genuinely, but the ghost of a smirk gracing those gorgeous features of his let you know that he was most certainly poking fun at you right now. He could be so arrogant sometimes… not that you truly minded.

Ever since Mithrun had recently retired to live with you in the still fledgling Golden Country, you’d noticed him start to become ever so slightly livelier at times. In the past, he’d always said he was grateful that you didn’t meet him when he was so pompous and flippant, but to you, a few snarky remarks here and there didn’t bother you at all. If anything, it meant that he could reclaim his old self while also embracing the new, which made a hopeful prospect for your shared future.

While you were in the process of pondering these feelings, the man beside you went right ahead with his magic. Though he mainly specialized in teleportation magic, any self-respecting member of the Canaries, former or otherwise, knew how to do something as simple as create some flame. The firewood you’d piled up caught almost instantly, creating a blaze that was perfect in both size and temperature.

“Thank you.” You acknowledged him with a nod, figuring that was all he would do. It seemed that Mithrun had other plans, however, judging by his choice to lift up one end of your blanket and wedge himself into the space next to you. A bit confused, you shot him a glance. “I thought you said you weren’t cold?”

He hummed. “But I want to be with you.”

Want. It was such a strange word to hear from Mithrun. For the longest time, he insisted he was unable to want anything at all, aside from the burning need for vengeance. Even now, he struggled with things like eating or sleeping. So to hear that he wants you, of all things…

You did nothing to hide the smile on your face. “You always can, you big goof.”

Whenever the two of you snuggled, your lover never really knew where to put his hands. This rang just as true now, with his arms awkwardly hovering on either side of you, unsure where to grasp or hold. With an almost practiced sense of effortlessness, you guided him to wrap both arms around your waist, positioning one at a time.

For a man so strong, he was quite pliant under your touch. One could easily say that it was his own apathy causing such behavior, but on the other hand, it was nice to believe that he chose to do so of his own free will.

He certainly had no trouble plopping his head down on your shoulder, completely unbothered by the way his cheek was squished from the proximity. How could someone be so battle hardened yet so…..cute?

“You comfy?”

The elf hummed affirmatively, the sound slightly muffled by the close contact. You allowed one hand to snake behind his back and rest comfortably on his hip, meanwhile the other grasped the edge of the blanket to keep it snugly wrapped around you. Honestly, Mithrun could probably be in the strangest position imaginable and still consider himself perfectly comfortable, so you weren’t entirely sure why you asked. It just felt… nice to check in on him. Like the right thing to do, no matter how obvious his answer may be to you.

Soft crackling sounds served as the backdrop for these thoughts, all while your lover remained still and relaxed by your side, having some ponderings of his own. Without you, Mithrun often found it difficult to settle down. He was getting a little better at knowing when to rest and eat in recent days, but even at times where he was well aware of the tiredness weighing him down, it was difficult to want to rest. Especially when what he wanted even more was to wait for you.

With you, he was able to feel at ease in a way that he still struggled with for the most part. Just like that dwarf had told him, even vegetable scraps could grow anew when placed in the soil and cared for. Maybe you were the earth, and he wanted nothing more than to relax while surrounded by you. He really wasn’t great at metaphors, so he couldn’t quite tell.

Of one thing, though, he could certainly be sure.

“I think that it should get cold more often.”