#she's literally complaining and he's like (soft tender eyes) at her

[apopcornkernel]

grabe na kayo ha 😭😭😭

[kgetb]

I like shiny things *⁠.⁠✧, but I'd marry you with paper rings ! ||>> Blaize Zabini

song to listen to : Paper Rings (Taylor Swift)

summary : The thought of Marriage seems to already peek Y/n's interests, as she talks about how much she's looking forward into her Married Life, with her husband, and Kids. Blaise pretends not to care, as he concentrates on folding... paper?

established relationship, fluf, literally around 10% of reader's yapping‼️

lover masterlist ! ♡

⤷ : : YANNA'S MAP .. : :

A usual day at Hogwarts, wherein Blaise has to endure Y/n's holy mother of yap about a random topic, again. not that he was complaining though... It was adorable watching her express what was on her mind, every day. It was interesting to say the least, And for what Y/n chose to talk about today was... marriage.

“I just can't wait when I finally graduate, and get married! I wonder what it'd be like!” Y/n chirped excitedly, in her own little world as she yapped to her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini about how excited she was to get married. Hell, they were still in their 6th year!

“Ugh.. like I can just imagine my wedding dress, and the cake.. ooh! and my bridesmaids! Definitely gonna be my bestest friends, of course!” She stated excitedly, with a huge grin plastered on her adoring face.

Blaise nodded nonchalantly, remaining quiet while focusing on folding the piece of paper in a ring shape. An origami heart that serves as the small little crown on the ring.

“Ooh! I also cannot wait to have children, they're so cute! Blaise, have you met my younger sister? I told you about her, right? she's the absolute cutest!” Y/n continued, empathizing the word 'cannot'. She kicked her legs forward, then backwards repeatedly. Making hand gestures as she talks.

She paused, and sat in silence for a few minutes, her puffy cheeks warming up at the thought of her and Blaise... actually having children. She shook the thought away, and leaned back on the chair she sat on. Then there she realized.. Blaise has been oddly.. quiet

As Y/n sat in silence, Blaise finished folding what looks like a Paper Ring.. It was a little bit wrinkled by the many failed attempts. but other than that, it was pretty, and adorable.

“Blaise? What're you doin'?”The girl piped up with a confused tone, and one eyebrow raised at Blaize's hand that hid behind his back with his lips curving upwards

“Close your eyes, milove.” Blaise spoke softly, while he tried his best to stifle a chuckle. Y/n complied by closing her eyes, Blaisw then stood up from the couch Infront of her, and slowly got down on one knee..

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at all the shuffling, yet her eyes remained closed until Blaise told her to open them. “You can open your eyes now, Y/n..” Blaise once again used the soft, and the ever sogentle tone he used only ever with Y/n.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, and was immediately met with the sight of Blaise on one knee, smiling at her while laughing. He held up the Origami Paper Ring that he spent literally the whole day folding, as he spoke such words... “Y/n Y/L/n, Will you marry me?”

He jokingly proposed with a sarcastic, and also serious manner, and the sight, along with Blaise's words had Y/n’s stomach infested with butterflies. Even if they were both just messing around

She let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on her mouth, as she slowly nodded. the teenagers both giggled at the same time, Blaise slipped the Paper ring easily on Y/n’s ring finger, as if it's actually made for her..

“I thought you weren't listening!” Y/n let out a huff, as her lips curved downwards into a frown. Then, wrapped her arms around Blaise's neck. As they shared a tender kiss, filled with nothing but affection, and love for one another.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds, before the two broke it. Blaise looked at Y/n, admiring all of her features that made up.. her. What Y/n saw as her imperfections, was the most perfect to Blaize. Everything about her, was perfect.

“Of course I was listening, I want to fulfill whatever dream you have, milove. As it is the only way I could ever show my undying appreciation, and love for you. I love you, forever. Y/n.” Blaise caressed her cheek with his thumb, as his other hand caressed Y/n’s hand which wore the Paper ring perfectly on the ring finger.

His smile was full of adoration towards his girlfriend, and also, his soon to-be wife, and most especially the mother of his future kids..

“I love you too, Blaise. soso much.” Y/n whispered fondly, both of their words. genuine and looked at Blaise with the same devoted look he gave her. Both of them already sure, of how their future will unfold. With them, still together, both with a ring that identifies their loyalty, and times spent together. Along with the family they will built, out of the passionate moments they've shared.

[tokkias]

redamancy ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Lucy's not typically one for recklessness—that's more Natsu's job—but that doesn't mean she's not prone to hurting herself from time to time. It's after one particularly bad injury that she comes to face the idea that Natsu worries about her just as much as she worries about him. ao3

based on this post (because i just can't help myself)

Lucy lets out a soft hiss as Natsu’s gentle motions graze over a particularly tender part of her wound. She tries to hold it in, as if to convince him it’s not that bad, as she had insisted when he first saw it, but he knows what a bad injury looks like, and this is one of them.

There’s no Wendy on this job with them, so it’s up to Natsu to patch her up. Their clients had provided them with a first-aid kit holding the necessary supplies to clean and stitch the wound back together. She hadn’t been aware that this was something Natsu knew how to do—they’ve always had Wendy around to heal up superficial injuries like these ones, but she supposes that she hadn’t always been around, that there had been a time when this was a skill that Natsu needed to learn for his own sake.

The bleeding has thankfully stopped, which makes the clean-up easier but no less painful when the disinfectant is applied to her arm, and he softly mutters an apology as she lets out a sound of pain.

He’s surprisingly tender when he needs to be; his brow creases in concentration. The sight of it is a welcome distraction from the needle he’s currently using to quite literally stitch her back together. Though she’s stronger now and her pain tolerance is higher than it used to be, she’s still not immune to the discomfort it brings her, so she tried to focus on Natsu, the line of his jaw, the purse of his lip, and the way his hair—now grown a fair bit longer for his liking (though Lucy insists he looks very handsome nonetheless)—brushes against the bottom of his brow bone.

He hasn’t said a word to her since he started cleaning the wound, but then again, she hasn’t made much of an effort to talk either. She feels bad about burdening him with this, especially seeing how worried he was about her when they had accidentally split up earlier in their job. This was, of course, not helped when she finally showed up covered in blood—a deep cut down her inner forearm. She doesn’t know if she’s seen him this panicked about anything in a long time.

“There ya go,” he finally says, pulling away to admire his work. “All done.”

It’s a little sloppier than she would be used to, but she’s not going to complain when she’s already caused him so much worry.

“Thank you,” she replies, with all the sincerity in the world.

He grins back at her, and the grief she had been feeling for worrying him begins to fizzle away in her chest. It doesn’t last for long, however, before his face drops slightly and his expression is replaced with a more serious demeanour.

“Now don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt like that again, okay?” He scolds in a tone that is so gentle and so unlike anything she’s ever heard from him.

Part of her was compelled to make a snarky comment at his chastising, to let him know that he was the last person she wanted to hear that from, but it dies on her tongue when her eyes meet his and she catches a glimpse of the genuine hurt that lingers behind them.

“I won’t,” she replies, though there’s not a terrible amount of conviction in her words.

That’s the way of a Fairy Tail wizard. Sometimes you have to get hurt to get the job done.

“I’m serious, Lucy,” he says. “I don’t like seeing ya hurt, and if something bad happened to you, I don’t-”

He stops midsentence, as though it’s not a thought he likes to entertain.

“I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

His voice cracks, and so does her heart. She gets it. He worries about her the exact same way she worries about him; he just doesn’t get the opportunity to show it nearly as much as she does.

“I’m sorry…” She murmurs, trying to avoid his gaze.

Guilt claws at her insides as she replays his words in her head, and the implications of them run wild. She has no plans of getting herself killed in battle, but she knows that recklessness like she showed today can quickly find itself with worse consequences than she’s facing today. She should know—she’s best friends with one Natsu Dragneel, after all.

“‘sokay,” he says, drawing her attention back up to him.

He’s smiling, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually does. She can see that he’s still worried, still shaken, even though she’s evidently fine now.

He’s mentioned his fear of losing her in passing, though choosing never to go into much detail. She had always just assumed that it’s the same fear of losing someone that he holds for all of his friends, but it’s not until this moment that she realises that maybe it’s different, that maybe he holds her in a different regard than the rest of their friends.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.”

For the first time since he began patching her up, she looks him in the eye and catches a glimpse of the fear, the hurt, the worry.

Though she’s a woman of words, she doesn’t know what to say in that moment, so instead she opts for nothing at all. That’s okay, because before long, Natsu’s arms are around her, and she feels his warm, sturdy embrace. It reminds both of them that they’re okay. Her arms slip around his back in reciprocation, and she rests her head against his chest, revelling in the soft and steady thump of his heartbeat.

They stay like that for a moment or two longer than one might consider platonic, but in that moment, that’s the last thing on Lucy’s mind. The only thing that consumes her mind is the feeling of his body against hers and the fact that she never wants to lose this. She supposes that if her own safety is the price she has to pay for his, she is more than fine with that.

[loveandmurders]

A new addition in the family (Sinclair daughter!reader)

It has been a hot minute since I posted for Sinclair daughter!reader, so I really hope you'll enjoy this <3

This is a requested fic about a woman appearing in the Sinclairs’ lives, as their potential wife and mother. You can find the request here.

Warnings: reader is jealous, lost and insecure, a little bit of angst, mention of killing and violence, happy ending.

You had always lived with your fathers (and Jonesy) only.

Because of your past, you had never looked for your biological parents (if they threw you in the pit, you really had no reason to meet them).

In all honesty, Bo was quite happy you didn’t ask to find them, because he was pretty certain he would have murdered them for the way they treated you.

For a long time, you were the only girl living in Ambrose, and you liked it that way, even if, sometimes, you wished you weren’t the only one.

But you wished for friends, not for a mother.

Actually, you saw the way your parents worshipped their own mother - and even kept her in the church to play her funeral over and over again - and it was quite scary. You didn’t want to have that kind of relationship with anyone.

You were half aware that your parents were intense, and that you would probably not react that way, but you weren’t too sure.

You were happy that way anyways. And you had three adults keeping an eye on you pretty much all the time, so it was more than enough for you. As a teen now, you were really not sure you would be able to stand to have another adult monitoring you.

Plus, you liked to have the three men’s attention all on you and on no one else. It made you feel important and loved.

You instantly noticed something was off that day when you saw Bo flirting with a tourist. Of course, you had seen him flirt with so many women before, but it was different. There was a light in his eyes… You could tell he had a soft spot for her.

It instantly worried you.

You were happy to be the only girl in Ambrose because you were certain they wouldn’t replace you with anyone else. But if they invited someone else to your home… Would the brothers still love you like they used to? Wouldn't you be in the way of their romantic and sexual life?

She wasn’t with a group. It was just her.

She was so pretty. So so pretty.

And her laugh was so soft and nice.

She was literally the embodiment of the beautiful housewife you saw sometimes on TV. But unlike these characters on TV, she was smart and funny. You noticed she easily made Bo laugh as he started to check on her car.

When he put his hand on the little of her back to guide her inside the garage, you just couldn’t stand it, and you had to intervene.

You wanted to remind Bo he had a daughter already, which meant he didn’t need anyone else in his life.

You entered the garage, trying to play it cool. “Daddy, can ya give me your phone; need to call Papa and my phone’s dead right now” you said. You didn’t need to call Lester, but it didn’t matter.

Bo turned to you. He wasn’t too surprised to see you there; he was used to you playing around with tourists. But he really didn’t want you here today. He was quick to give you his phone, hoping you would leave right away.

The woman smiled at you. “You’re so beautiful!” she exclaimed “What’s your name?” she asked after she had introduced herself.

You were quite stunned. You often heard tourists complimenting you, but never so sincerely. You answered her and she smiled even more.

“Bo’s a good dad, I hope,” she continued. She seemed to really like you. “I’ve wanted kids but luck hasn’t been on my side so far.” she explained.

“Yeah, he’s a good dad. Bo adopted me with his two brothers” you replied.

It never failed to make Bo smile. He gently stroked your head. “I know I’m lucky” he added and the woman watched the two of you with a lot of tenderness.

“So you have three dads?” she gently chuckled and you rolled your eyes

“Pff, yeah. Always on my back” you complained and Bo huffed

“Ya’re the one on my back right now. Go call Lester back home. I’ve some work to do” he replied as he gently pushed you away.

You didn’t find anything to say as the woman waved you goodbye.

You called Lester for him to buy you some ice cream. And you told him about the woman.

You were so surprised when he happily told you he also met her earlier and that she was very nice and sweet. You were even more surprised when you learned that both Bo and Lester had asked Vincent to leave her alone. She wasn’t going to be killed.

You thought you had something to play with Vincent so you looked for him. You didn’t find him in the basement, but you found him in the House of Wax, showing the sculptures to the woman.

Bo had told her he had quite a lot of work to do and had offered for her to check on the museum. He hadn’t thought his brother would be quick to also make a move on her.

You watched them in pure bewilderment. You had no idea what to do.

It was even worse when you found yourself, at the dinner, with the four adults together. They were all joking around as you stayed utterly silent.

You had mixed feelings about her.

She did seem nice and sweet. And she was making your fathers happy.

But what did it say about you? Weren’t you enough for them?

You didn’t need a mother in your life. And your fathers didn’t need anyone else in their existences either.

You were already a family.

Vincent was the first one to notice how lost and confused you seemed to be, so he tried to include you in the conversation.

Lester was quick to follow the lead.

You were rarely silent at the family dinner. You only shut up when you were upset (like after a fight with Bo).

The woman seemed to realise what was going on, and she started to ask you questions about your life in Ambrose.

You were a little bit reluctant to answer her at first, but Bo sent you a glance meaning he really needed you to cooperate.

You had been abandoned by your biological family once already, and you had always been a little bit scared your fathers would grow tired of you one day, no matter how much you loved each other. You didn’t want to screw this up.

So even if you weren’t the most obedient child in the world, for once, you did what your parents were expecting from you without any argument.

You answered the questions, a little bit uneasy. It wasn’t because of her questions though, just because of the situation.

You just wanted to tell her that your parents were killers, that way they would have to murder her. At the same time, you didn’t want your parents to be mad at you. It felt important to them.

As important as you were.

It was so strange.

It was even more strange when the woman left Ambrose unharmed the next morning, and then came back very often, flirting with all your fathers.

Bo was the most seductive one, and Lester the funniest. Vincent was a little bit shier because of his mask, but it made him quite soft to her.

She clearly enjoyed them all equally.

And she didn’t care one bit about the killings.

One evening, Bo asked you to go out for the night. He wanted you to stay at Lester’s place because they had a “date” with the woman. You understood they planned on having sex with her and they needed you out of the way.

You obeyed, without saying anything, which worried Bo a little but he was too distracted with that woman to really think about it for the moment.

When you came back home, the next day, your parents sat you at the kitchen table.

“So, love, we want ya to treat her like she was your mother. She’s really good, and it’ll be nice to have her around, ya’ll see.” they told you and you stayed silent for a little while

“I need no mother” you finally said

“She really likes ya and she’s a nurturing nature. Ya always complain ya’re the only girl in town. It’ll be fun, ya’ll be able to do girly stuff with her. We’ll even leave the house to the two of ya when ya’ll want to do girl’s nights. Doesn’t it sound good?” they tried to coax you.

Even if it did sound appealing, you were worried.

“Do ya still love me, though?” you asked them, almost crying.

They were quite shocked that you could believe that including someone else in their existences could change the love they had for you.

They all appeased you like they could.

Lester told you that you would be forever his daughter and his joy, that he would still do anything for you, that he wanted all of you to be happy. And he really believed they would be the perfect functioning family with her being a part of it. He really thought they needed a wife and you needed a mother. He asked you to trust him.

Vincent cuddled you and promised you that nothing would ever change. You were still his top priority. He also offered to spend more time with you in the basement so you could do some art together. He admitted he had missed this time with you lately, even if it was his own fault.

Bo waited for his brothers to leave before talking to you, because it was very serious for him. He explained to you, once again, how family was the core of everything. He told you he believed they needed a mother for you and that she was perfect. She would care for everyone, and he needed you to be good to her. But he also promised you that if the situation upsetted you, if she hurt you physically or verbally, he would kill her without a second thought. Because you were his daughter, and there was nothing more important than you.

You guessed you had a mother now.

And even if you needed some time to admit it, it was quite nice.

[neteyamslovrr]

DO YOU LOVE HER - pt 2

summary: after finding out your first love lo'ak had cheated on you with tsireya, you are left to find yourself again. luckily the chief's son is ready to be there along with you

content: 1.2k words, fem!omatikaya reader, angst, negative self talk, depression, hurt comfort

authors note: i'm so sorry i've been so dead here on tumblr!! lifes been getting me buttt her is the awaited pt2. i have a headcanon that na'vi's love hard, so they also get heartbroken hard. so i incorporated that. hope you enjoy babies!!

pt 1

It was like the world went grey after that night. Walking away from Lo’ak with tears falling down your face as sobs so loud even the waves couldn’t silence them echoed out into the night.

How were you meant to live here. Alone, no family, no lover. You couldn’t go back to the marui you shared with the Sully’s. You couldn’t go back to the forest. You were alone.

This feeling didn’t go away. It had been weeks and you were still barely being seen in the open. You moved your stuff into a small marui on the edge of the village, the Sully’s especially Tuk asked why you were moving but you didn’t have the energy to explain it to them. You decided it was Lo’ak’s responsibility.

But the days and nights merged into one. The soft breeze of the wind, you never felt as you stayed hidden away. Your hair was starting to get messy, your eyes having large eyebags below them, your figure frail and weak as you had not attended any communal dinners in weeks.

Concern grew for you immensely in the Sully home, as Lo’ak felt himself be eaten up with guilt. It crawled in and gnawed at his heart every time he looked at the closed curtains of your secluded home.

“Lo’ak…you must talk with her.” Neytiri says, brushing her hands through her son’s hair. She missed your presence dearly. You were another daughter of hers.

“and say what? She does not want apologies.” Lo’ak complained twitching away from Neytiri’s loving touches.

“She has not been out of the house in a very long time…Lo’ak you have to own up to your choices and fix this.” Lo’ak shook his head fiercely.

“I can’t fix this…I can’t fix this at all.”

However, there was someone who was making their way to your marui. Ready to fix this, ready to see you thrive. Sick and tired of your decline.

You heard the shuffle of your closed curtains and groaned at the sudden brightness. “go away.”

“Get up.” You shot up in an instant at the familiar voice.

“Ao’nung?...What are you doing here?” Ao’nung assessed your features. Your sickliness made him feel queasy, you were so pale, so thin. His heart broke just seeing you like this.

“I am the chief’s son, I have a duty to make sure everyone in my clan is doing alright….and I’m worried about you.” The last part of his sentence was said with tenderness, his usually cocky face showing an uttermost care and sincerity.

“…well I’m fine. You can go.” Your voice was as harsh as it could be, it was raspy, raw from all the hysterical cries you had let out.

“We both know you’re not…” Ao’nung stepped closer to you, his rough fingers reaching out to touch your cold shoulder. Both literally and figuratively.

“I don’t want you pity.”

“I don’t pity you…I’m worried about you.” Ao’nung said, crouching down so he could be eye-level with you as you laid in your bed.

“I know you pity me. The brother of the woman my first love cheated on me with. You are probably being tasked to do this. Please just go…I don’t need help.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I’ve had that said to me before.”

Lo’ak was making his way towards your secluded marui. His palms were sweaty, shaking as he walked. His heart-beated louder in his chest the closer he got to your home. His mind swirled with what to say to you. How he could ever reconcile the bond between you. How you could ever forgive him.

As he reached the entrance of your marui he felt paralysed with fright. He stood at the slighty shut curtain, as he peeked inside.

You were sobbing, lips quivering as your chest heaved up and down. He saw your broken figure the way you were shaking, your incoherent mumbles followed by the aggressive hiccups of your loud cries.

“I just don’t understand why I wasn’t good enough…” You cried out loud, he thought you were crying to yourself, breaking yourself down with your thoughts. But he was wrong.

A soft shush came from inside the tent. As Lo’ak peered closer he noticed a familiar figure, soothing your worked up cries as he patted the back of your head, letting you cry into his chest. Ao’nung

He didn’t know why he felt so sick seeing you cry in another man’s arms. He had no right to feel possessive over you when he had done you so wrong. But maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t fix this. That he had completely lost you, but not only as a lover, but as a friend. Someone who followed him to the ends of the earth.

“You are good enough…don’t talk about yourself like that.” Ao’nung hugged you tightly. It was the first touch, the first sense of comfort you had felt in weeks. Maybe that’s why your walls broke down so first. Crumbling into his outstretched hands. “He was just selfish…it was not you, not you at all.” He comforted, letting your cries deafen him as you continued to shake and shiver in his arms.

Lo’ak felt as if he was going to puke. The reality of his selfishness occurring right in front of him. He had to go. He couldn’t do this. He was too selfish to face his own choices, too scared to realise the truth of what he had done to you.

Ripped you away from the forest, your family, your clan. Only to desert you the moment he found his heart buzzing. He was immature and he would live his life loving in guilt, knowing that he sacrificed your happiness for his own.

So he walked away. His head hung low in shame. As the calls of the happy villagers around him seemed to taunt him. How could anyone rejoice in a time like this? But he did what led him to this problem in the first place. He headed straight to Tsireya for comfort.

Your crying subsided eventually, throat feeling raw as Ao’nung quietly hushed you as he rocked you in his arms.

If you weren’t in a completely vulnerable state you would have already crawled out of his arms and washed off his stench. But right now as you both sat in your bed, as he cradled you in his arms, rocking you back and forth. You felt cared for, for the first time in a long time.

His arms were strong, as he moved the hair out of your face softly, letting you grow sleepy in his embrace.

“you know it’s not your fault. Right?” You frowned, lips tucked into each other as you looked into his deep stare,.

“one day I will…” ao’nung nodded and rocked you both back and forward until your sad whimpers turned into soft snores as he watched you sleep peacefully.

Ao’nung was sure he would beat Lo’ak harder than he had ever been beaten before. No mercy would be given. But right now he focused on the broken girl in his arms, that he was determined to make sure was whole again.

tags: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby @lixiesbrowniess

thankyou sm for reading!! reblogs + replies so totally appreciated thankyou lovelies &lt;333

[look-at-the-soul]

The Photoshoot - Part 47

Cillian Murphy x OC

Series Master list: Part 1 (2014), Part 2 (2015)

I’ve to start this part by saying I’m surprised how this chapter got written by itself-and no, I’m not talking about AI-, what I mean is I had the idea súper clear from the beginning, the dialogue flew or slipped out of my fingers as I typed like a maniac 🤭 and I know it’s because of how much I love this story and all the journey I as a writer have been with them, the ups and downs, the turns… I cried and laughed so much and it fills my heart in a way that anything else can’t.

To the families/people going through adoption, I hope you get those papers, from the bottom of my heart. Last but not least, @forbidden-forest-witch thank YOU for the niece inspiration 🥰💕

Word count: 3,368

⚠️ Extra fluff

Cillian flopped on the couch with a groan, after loading the car to its maximum capacity with all the things Yael bought for their visit to the orphanage. Scout jumped next to him exhausted from following them inside and outside.

“What are you doing?” His wife called from the kitchen, getting closer she decided to join them on the couch, by sitting on Cillian’s lap.

“Taking a break.” He chuckled and her whole world lit.

“Lee-Anne sent me money to buy a few snacks for the children and Jenna bought them boxes of orange and apple juice.” Yael explained running her fingers through his locks. “God, I’m going to miss these.”

Cillian closed his eyes, giving into the relaxing feeling her fingers were providing him.

“They did? That’s very, very thoughtful.” He opened one of his eyes a little, if she continued doing that he’d be sleeping in less than five minutes.

“Yes, and your sisters donated loads of new toys, can you believe they still have the tags attached?” Her eyes sparkled in excitement.

“Mhmm.”

“You’re not even listening to me.” Yael half complained attempting to get up, but Cillian’s arms wrapped around her waist firmly to stop her.

“‘Course I’m.” He rubbed his nose against the crook of her neck, taking in her fragrance.

“Oh there it is… the Tommy Shelby voice.” Yael leaned back to look at her husband, he had a gushing expression as he cupped her face.

“No it’s not.” Cillian debated.

“ I can totally see it, don’t try to hide it.”

She saw him tilting his head and doing his signature pout.

“Staaaawp.” She giggled, the more she looked at him, the more evident it was.

In a fluent motion, Cillian pinned her beneath his body.

“And now you’re going to tell me you don’t like it?” Cillian raised his eyebrow.

Yael bit her lower lip, her eyes sparkling. “Actually… I love it.”

“I’m sure those kids will be so happy with all the things you bought for them.” Cillian admitted leaning down and kissing all over her jaw.

“Don’t you think it’s too much?” Yael asked tentatively, doubting for an instance.

Cillian’s hands cupped her face gently. “Not at all,” he held his weight above her and went back for another kiss, “why do I have a feeling that this isn’t the first time you’re getting involved in a project like this?” A soft smile spread on his lips and his blue orbs were shining just like hers.

“I feel like this is my call, you know? Just like when I chose to study photography…”

A tender smile grew on his lips while he ran his hand up and down her thigh.

“You know I support you fully on this, right?”

Instead of answering her husband with words, Yael choose to give him kiss after kiss, a small peck on the corner of his lips, smooches sounds filled the living room, Cillian felt Yael smiling and his hand cupped her cheek as she moved back. She’d be forever grateful for having him by her side not only during the difficult times, but also to see the growing in different aspects of their lives.

She ran her hands over his shoulders, feeling his biceps. A content sigh slipped from her lips.

“I’m really excited about this.”

Cillian smiled widely at her happiness, it was literally oozing from every pore reflecting beautifully in her eyes and features.

“There’s so much to do, these kids they don’t have someone who looks out for them, wh-what if they need shoes? Or glasses to see? A doctor if they get sick?”

Cillian was mesmerized by the passion in her voice, she was so humble and genuine, so it wasn’t really a surprise to see how her engagement was enveloping him as well.

“We’ve plenty of time to see what else they might need at the orphanage, we should get going though.” He gave her then a playful slap on her bum. “So you’re not going to spend our budget on spa days and shopping huh?”

“Nope, I’m going to buy loads of things for the orphanages.” Yael accepted the coat Cillian was holding for her and after letting Scout know they’d be later, she linked her arm with his.

“More than one?” Cillian added a dramatic look but didn’t hide the grin that turned the corner of his lips upwards. “Are you sure you don’t want a spa day? I’m sure it’s cheaper.”

Yael laughed feeling her cheeks burning. “Don’t worry I’m planning on doing a professional photo shoot in a few weeks to raise funds.”

As Cillian drove, he placed his hand on her thigh. “How so?”

“People like accountants, nurses, anyone basically will have the chance to get their picture taken professionally to use it for their resume it’s a quick session I’m thinking twenty-thirty minutes, one after another and then sending the digital images so they can upload their resume or web page. So from the price I’ll only take the money to rent the office and the rest I’ll donate it equally to two or three orphanages.”

“I love this and I love you. This speaks volumes about you and your heart.” He felt more than proud of the way Yael decided to turn things around. Instead of becoming anger and resentful for not being able to have children biologically or the slow process she was looking for a way to help.

*

“We’re touched by your generosity Mr. and Mrs. Murphy.” The responsible of the orphanage thanked them as they finished unloading the truck of their vehicle.

“We’ve family and friends involved in this, although they couldn’t join us unfortunately.” Yael explained.

“That’s lovely, having the community support and share a little bit of what they have with the children has a huge impact.” She motioned them to join the children in the patio of the house, volunteers helped them organize the children in a line. “Kids, we’ve visitors today, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy and I heard they brought snacks over!”

A loud round of cheering took them by surprise, bringing Yael to the edge of tearing at the happy smiles they got in response after a loud thank you the kids shouted in chorus.

“Do you like it Shioban?” Yael crouched down at the little girl’s height as she handed her a stuffed animal.

“I love it! Thanks!”

Ages varied just as personalities, it was a shock at first to be surrounded by so many kids, but they all were so well behaved, listened carefully to the instructions and remained in silence when an adult was talking, sharing excited glances at the boy or girl standing next to them.

Yael and Cillian explained they brought over books to read, a few chairs, toys and game boards they would be giving the responsible of the place to take to the reading room they had, they also brought a few first aid kit, plastic glasses and some clothes. The happiness in the children’s faces hit them deep, touching every fiber of their bodies.

“That was the last one,” Cillian sighed surprised by all the energy he felt the kids had been taking from him, they were so demanding, asking loads of questions, shouting over to get whatever they had in their hands.

“Shall we give them their snacks? That should keep them busy for a while.” Suggested the orphanage’s director.

Cillian nodded touching the head of a girl who was already in line. “How about you go and take your place at the table sweetie? I’ll bring your lunch in a minute.”

The girl nodded and stormed to take her place.

Later on when they left the orphanage, Yael felt something else, it was a bittersweet feeling. For leaving so soon and for thinking that she wasn’t doing enough.

Before they left, Cillian was gifted with a couple of drawings and Yael had a few colorful bracelets made by the girls. They both promised they’d go back soon and invite their family and friends.

“Did you see that little boy, Jax playing with the ball we gave him?” Yael beamed once in the car, touched by the memory of the kid running to give her a hug and then storm to play.

Cillian kissed her temple, still fighting the lump in his throat after such emotional moment at the orphanage they visited.

Learning the background stories of some of the children left them heartbroken as it was very mixed, some had been taken away due to violence or their parents passing away, others were left because they couldn’t cover the kid’s expenses. But either way it was hard to digest.

“If I could, I’d adopt them all.” Yael admitted, her voice sounded shaky.

“I know you would, love.” Cillian gave her hand a firm squeeze. “Now how about we grab a coffee before your photoshoot?”

Adjusting on her seat, Yael nodded and leant onto his shoulder as her husband drove. His comfort and support meant to her a lot more than words could express.

****

Sometimes her photo sessions got longer than expected, so Yael arrived home past seven o’clock. Tired but pleased by the way the photos turned out.

Noticing a vehicle in her driveway, she stepped inside greeted by Scout and the loud tap of his tail, wiggling from side to side. Kissing the top of his head, she caressed the muzzle gently noticing the voices coming from the kitchen.

“Hey Orla, hello Sienna!” Yael greeted them going for a quick peck on the lips from her husband. “What’s the matter?”

She focused on her niece’s puffy eyes.

“Someone thought it was a funny idea to stick gum on Sienna’s hair, we had to cut it to get rid of it… I tried ice, well everything.” Orla shared with a sad expression.

“What’s the problem with these children?! Are you alright baby girl?” She went to give the girl a hug.

“She wanted to see you.” Orla smiled.

“Oh! Yes of course do you wanna have dinner?” Yael looked at her husband they didn’t know yet what they’d do but she was sure they’d figure something out.

“I wish, but I can’t… there’s a phone call I need to take with other parents.”

“Mama can I stay here?” Sienna asked.

“No darling, they’re probably busy-”

Yael looked at Cillian and he knew immediately what she was about to suggest.

“She can stay tonight, if you want of course.”

Orla had been on the edge all day, emotions right at the surface so having someone taking over mommy duty for one night sounded wonderful.

“Pleaseeeee.” Sienna asked with big puppy eyes.

“Are you sure this is alright?” She looked at her brother, finding a nod as answer. “Fine, but be a good girl, okay?”

“Okay!” Sienna clapped excitedly and jumped from the kitchen island to tackle Scout.

“We can drive her tomorrow morning.” Yael offered with a genuine smile.

Orla was still torn, but relieved at the same time. “Do you need anything?”

“Please just go, don’t be noisy.” Cillian waved at her, making Yael giggle.

“Grand, I’ll see you tomorrow kiddo.” Orla kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Enjoy the sleepover.”

“We can watch a movie, would you like that?” Yael felt a rush of love spread through her body as her niece gave a little jump. “Help me find the popcorn first.”

“Tell me what’s going on… Orla? What’s the problem?”

His sister looked down, he knew her so damn well.

“I’m pregnant and we didn’t even planned for it.” She confessed worriedly.

Cillian’s features softened and hugged his sister. “Congratulations! But why are you acting like this?”

Orla let out a low sob, she was so emotional. “Because you guys have trouble starting a family and it kind of feels wrong.”

“Hey non of that, I’m so happy for you and you should enjoy it as well, it’s a wonderful news!”

“But I’m worried about Yael I don’t want to make her feel bad like I’m rubbing it in her face.”

“Stop worrying about that, yes we wish it was us every time we hear about a baby, but it doesn’t mean she won’t be happy for you.” He kissed his sister on the cheek. “Now take a deep breath and text me when you get home, love you.”

“Thank you, for everything.” She wiped her eyes and shouted goodbye to her daughter and sister in law.

Of course it was a bittersweet sweet feeling for both of them, but they were stronger than this and there was no chance to take it personally.

“Did you pick a movie yet?” Yael asked as she joined her niece in the TV room upstairs, already changed into a decent pajama top and bottom because she regularly wore Cillian’s clothes to sleep.

Placing the tray of snacks in the middle, Sienna had a look of surprise.

“I love your braid!” Sienna beamed pointing at her aunt’s hairstyle.

“Thanks, if I don’t braid it the following morning it will be a mess.” She chuckled. “Do you want me to braid yours?”

“Yes! Please.”

After a few minutes she came back from the master bedroom with a box full of hair ties, a comb and a brush, finding Cillian eating the popcorn.

“I hope you’re leaving some for us, mister.” Scout gave her a guilty look.

Cillian extended his hand to offer her a popcorn. One.

“Really?”

“I was showing you the one I’m eating.” He shoved it into his mouth and handed his wife the bowl with the rest with a smirk.

Internally melting at the sight of Yael brushing his niece’s hair. He simply knew she’d be the greatest mother one day.

Cillian was in awe at her abilities to move her hands as she braided Sienna’s hair, but at the same time he could see how careful she was.

“Okay drums roll please…” Yael handed Sienna a mirror so she could check herself and how the braids turned out. “It’s harder to make it to someone else ‘cause I need to think how to do in the opposite direction.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He got comfortable at his wife’s lap now that she was free, resting his head on her thighs.

“I love it auntie!” Sienna expressed and Yael felt like her heart could explode.

So the three of them plus Scout snuggled closer to enjoy the rest of the film.

By the time the film was done, Sienna was sound asleep so quietly they got the remaining of their food downstairs. Cillian gave his wife a long look.

“Did she talk to you about the gum?”

“Yeah… guess it was harder than she showed, but luckily the piece of hair Orla cut can hide, she’s a fantastic kid I don’t understand why that girl is determined to bother Sienna.” She added while cleaning the top of the kitchen island. “I feel so bad for her, this human stupidity is getting out of hand.”

Cillian sighed, hands on his hips. “Hopefully the principal will take actions against that bully.”

“I know violence is not the way, but I swear some people need to see red from time to time.”

He couldn’t have said that better. “Let’s go upstairs now, we’ll clean that tomorrow.” He added grabbing his wife by the hips to guide her out of the kitchen.

Minutes later they went back into their TV room, and turning off the lights, Cillian and Yael went to lay down next to their niece and Scout. Whispering goodnight to each other, Yael snuggled into the crook of his neck, feeling his hands running up and down her back.

They both loved to feel that they were a safe place to Sienna, looking forward to be there for her as much as they could so in a near future when the teen age started their bond would be closer and stronger.

The following morning after having breakfast, Orla picked up Sienna from her brother’s house and Yael went to the suburbs for a photoshoot, her heart had been pounding from the first minute she let the couple who requested her photography services for their special occasion.

They had a gorgeous scenery, they oozed happiness and love for each other, but the reason behind their photoshoot it’s what touched Yael’s heart.

It was hard but not impossible to think this was a huge coincidence and she spent most of the session wiping her eyes. They were a lovely couple and the photos flew so easily. She was planning on edit those first thing once she got home to print and send the digital copies as soon as possible.

That’s why when Cillian offered to pick her up when the photoshoot was over, she agreed immediately, excited to see him.

“Wow, it’s safe to assume they didn’t give you loads of trouble with the poses?” He leaned in for a quick peck after seeing her big smile.

“You’re not going to believe this, but you can have a sneak peek.” Yael clicked a few times on her camera, scrolling through the images, stopping in one of her favorites.

“Can’t believe this.” His hand flew to his forehead in surprise and looked at his wife.

“I know! Thought the same, they’ve been in the process for a while, and the first time they picked a family at the last minute the biological parents called of the adoption papers and they were left with a broken heart. However… they tried again and this time they chose a little boy he’s seven-years old and they fell in love with him, like love at first sight.”

Without realizing Cillian’s hand was caressing Yael’s shoulders, touched by the story behind the photographs.

“They finally got green light from the judge to finalize the adoption and they’re heading to court next week to sign the papers. But they kept it very low key, she told me a lot of people tried to convince her this was a wrong idea.”

Sighing, Cillian thought about it for a second. “It’s always for the best to keep important things to yourself. Sadly people ruin plans if you share them beforehand.”

Yael wrapped her arms around his torso as they walked towards his car parked at the other side of the park.

“There are so many kids looking for a family… and parent looking for a kid.” Emotions taking over her. “But I also think…”

“Whot?”

The look she gave him sent chills all over his body. But in a good way.

“These kind of matches is just like love you know? There’s an instant connection.”

Brushing away a loose lock, he kissed the top of her head.

“Amen.”

Yael giggled, little by little she was getting more comfortable with the process, knowing that it was meant to be.

As they reached the car, his phone started ringing. When Cillian took a look at the screen his heart rate went up rapidly.

“It’s the social worker.”

Yael had an adrenaline rush. “Go! Answer it.”

As she helped him put it in speaker, her hands started shaking.

“Hello? Mr. Murphy?”

“Ya.”

“Just calling to let you know the home study has been approved,” the woman stated and they could t believe what they just heard, …”you can continue now with the interview process and-”

“Goodness! Is this real?”

“Yes Mrs. Murphy, my secretary will give you a call to tell you the date for the individual and joint interview.”

Their minds couldn’t process the rest of the phone call, everything was blurry.

Was that really happening?

“I’m sorry can you make sure it’s-” Yael’s hand flew to her mouth, her hands were shaking!

“The home study has been approved for Mr. and Mrs. Murphy…” she read part of the letter. “I’ll make sure to send the official papers to your house tomorrow morning.”

Thanking her and hanging up the phone, Cillian pulled Yael for a tight hug, not finding the right words to say, but feeling extremely blessed and relieved. This was a huge step in the process, so now they could focus on keeping their hopes high.

**

Next part

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[nochukoo97]

hold me while you wait (2)

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Summary: Fast forward a week or two, Jk climbs a literal tree to hide with oc, feelings get unleashed, OC likes to scold and nag jk, he cuts her off with a… 😊🙏

Word count: 1.1k+

part one

It’s a Friday night, and you’re lying peacefully on your bed, watching a series on your laptop. You had moved back into your parent’s place since the holidays had started and did not need to stay at your apartment. The only reason why you had moved out of your parent’s house was because the apartment you had bought was much closer to your college, making travelling time shorter and more efficient for you.

Your parent’s and Jungkook’s parents had bought houses next to each other, which was also a reason why you two grew up so close with each other. Jungkook would come over to your house for playdates when young and vice versa for you. You and Jungkook’s room faced each other, and Jungkook had tried to climb across to your room from his by climbing onto the tree in the middle of both the houses, to which he ended up with a badly broken arm. Fortunately, and surprisingly, although he had quite literally fallen from the second floor on a tree, Jungkook, at the tender age of 12, had barely a reaction when his bone had gruesomely broke in half from the impact of the fall.

Suddenly, while you were deeply invested in the show’s drama, you hear a series of loud knocks coming from your window. You instantly freeze, thinking that an intruder or robber was trying to get into your room. Quickly, you grab the umbrella sitting in the corner of your room and approach the window, pulling apart the curtains, ready to smash whoever was trying to break in, when you see brown fluffy hair and those brown pupils staring back at you. You gasps as you see Jungkook on your balcony, smiling straight at you and pointing at the sliding door, motioning you to open it.

“Jungkook, how the hell did you get there!” You whisper-scream, not sure if your parent’s were in their room across from yours. The walls of your room were extremely thin, everytime you had dropped a pen or an eraser, they would somehow be able to hear a soft thud all the way across from their rooms, so you did not want to take any chances. “I climb from my balcony to the tree and hopped onto your balcony, how else do you think I got here? Flew from your garden up to the second floor?” He teases you as you tsks at him and smacked his arm.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m here, I just fought with my mum and she tried to ground me in my room,” He says as he rolls his eyes. “What does she think I am, 12? Geez, 18 years old and still getting grounded to the confiments of my room!” He complains as you open your mouth to begin scolding him.

“So your first thought was to climb-” You start scolding him, before all you feel is Jungkook’s lips crashing onto yours, pushing you into the bathroom connected to your room and locking the door. You gasp loudly as you push him back, staring at him in total shock and your cheeks flustered pink.

“Y/N! Have you seen Jungkook? His mother is here finding for him!” Your mother shouts as she opens the door to your room. Your eyes widen and you panic a little, “No mum! I’m just about to shower, I haven’t heard from him!” You shout back as she replies an ‘okay’ before heading out your room and closing your door.

“What was that?” you whisper as you frown and Jungkook who seemed unbothered by what just happened, even more so proud as he smirks at you. “I heard footsteps approaching your room so of course I had to do something to shut you up,” He tries to reason as he laughs quietly seeing your flustered reaction. “Shut me up by kissing your best friend on the lips?” You scold him, as he frowns at the term you had used.

To be honest, while the both of you were kids, Jungkook had made a promise to marry you when you two were older, and from then on you decided that the only boy you would ever be with was Jungkook. Even when you were in a relationship with Jaehyun, you still had a small part of you calling out to him, a small part of you still having that crush you had on him in middle school. Seeing other girls flirt with him made you angry even in your three year relationship, and you had tried to suppress your feelings down and convince yourself Jaehyun was the one for you.

Now looking back, you realised that all along, Jungkook was the one by your side. The one who promised to marry you when older, the one who comforted you whenever you felt sad, the one who made you laugh the most, and the one who you missed the most.

“I like you, you know,” Jungkook suddenly confesses, his words take you by surprise at how straightforward he was being, “I-what?” you stutter. “You heard me clearly,” He raises his eyebrow at you, Jungkook was not blind, he knew throughout your relationship that there was still a part of you that will come back to him someday, so eventhough he felt some sort of jealousy and hurt while you were dating Jaehyun, he told himself to wait, to wait until you finally come back to the boy who promised to marry you one day. The boy who had loved you ever since young.

You tried to get a word out of you, you tried to think how to say “I like you too” without saying it. You weren’t a very bold person, no matter how much you liked someone, there was no way you would have the guts to confess. Jaehyun had been the first to confess, which was why you two were in a relationship. If not, you would probably have not even try to get his number despite your massive crush on him back then.

Instead, you choose to crash your lips back on his, tasting the cherry lip balm that you had originally introduced to him in middle school. Jungkook’s eyes widen for a second before he kisses you back, hands travelling to your waist and pulling you closer.

You’re both panting softly as he pulls away from you gently, both your eyes staring into each others, not believing what had just happened.

“You know the last time you climbed that tree,” You start to scold him again. Jungkook groans in response at your constant nagging at him, “Come on, can we forget about that now? I wanna kiss you again,” he mumbles as he leans back in to your lips.

Finally, you are with the boy who had loved you ever since the start, and are much happier than you could ever be.

[klutzyroses]

I have thought of a this for a bit now and I so much hope you will like my idea, like how the mansion residents, above all the writers, will react with a MC who loves to write, especially romantic things ? Thank you Have a wonderful day :D

I hope you're ready for the fluffiness! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well!💖

IkeVamp HCs: Romantic Writer SO

How do they react to an s/o who loves to write romance?

Suitors: Arthur, Dazai, Jean, William

Arthur

The mystery writer very early on noticed the lovely Y/N seemed to have a little hobby she was rather reserved about.

He would somewhat prod at her teasingly about what she was doing when he wasn't around and would always be met with flustered responses of "nothing in particular".

Which he knew was not true. The detective in him has definitely been piqued due to her secrecy, but part of him just wanted to know a bit more about the woman he loves. He just genuinely wants to know.

So, with much observation and detective work, the mystery writer soon uncovers his darling's love of writing.

Writing what? He didn't know. So what else could he do than ask her directly. So he did.

While the girl hesitated at first, she relented and told him she often wrote romantic poetry and short stories in her little notebook. When asked if he could read them, she very timidly handed over her notebook, only asking that he read it in his own time.

And when he does...he is blown away.

Within the first few paragraphs, his heart began to melt at the affabrous literature before his sapphire eyes, speaking tales of passionate love and reverie blossoming from a clearly dreamy and wistful heart. It quite literally leaves him speechless by the time he is done.

When he is able to put it down, he immediately seeks out his tender worded angel and he twirls her once, reveling in her surprised gasp before simply gushing about what a gift she has. He is almost offended she kept this from him. He kisses each blessed finger that had written such divine words, silently hoping she will continue to write and maybe they can work together sometime.

Dazai

Being a writer himself, he was a master at wording and especially had a talent for weaving tales off the top of his head.

And as a writer, he is naturally observant, thus he was keenly aware of his sweetheart holding a little secret passion to herself.

A little passion held in a pretty little notebook kept close to her heart.

He of course was curious enough to ask about it and received a timid and vague answer that it was just a book of "meaningless babble that wouldn't interest him".

Somehow he had trouble believing that.

So it was when he was with her in the library one night that he asked her to read her "meaningless babble" to him. He asks in such a gentle, persuasive tone that the maiden couldn't refuse him. Which led to her being held in his lap while she read a short story she had written most recently.

As he listened to symphony of tender words, soft expressions of undying love and compassion echoing through the voice of his beloved, his heart ached, his golden eyes softened with warmth.

He never knew she was just a gifted amorist, able to spin such beautiful narratives, that could touch the heart so deeply and had he been a more expressive man, he might even been moved to tears.

He is so taken by it that when she finishes, he gently turns her head to meet her in a heartmelting kiss before whispering praise and sweet nothings to her.

It wouldn't be unusual to see the couple collaborate from then on, weaving breathtaking tales of love together.

Jean

When learning to read from his beloved, he noted she often taught him from very sweet and romantic books, centering mostly around poetry and anecdotes of passion and love in all sorts of settings.

He was not the most adept at understanding the concept, but he could feel his heart stir as the beautifully woven words danced forth into the air like a lover's waltz.

Romance is not his forte per se, but he never complains. He figures, this was just her preferred genre and didn't question it. He was just grateful to be taught.

However as he began to learn to write and learn to differentiate handwriting, he started to notice a strong similarity between the handwriting of the books his love read to him and the handwriting of his beloved herself.

He pushes the curiosity away for quite some time, feeling as though he was making assumptions until he couldn't help but voice the question one day whilst she was reading to him.

The response he got was Y/N looking away sheepishly, clearing her throat as she awkwardly admitted that she was the author of all those romance stories and poems, from her vivid, fairytale imagination, transferred to her quill onto paper.

To say the soldier was taken aback is an understatement.

He hadn't guessed that his mademoiselle was a writer at all. But he supposed it made sense in the end.

He wonders now if the amorous content was a window into her own desires and wants, which later leads to him becoming just a little more affectionate towards her. From holding her hand, to cuddling her sweetly, anything to make her feel as loved as possible.

William

This was William. William Shakespeare. If anyone knew about writing scenes of love, whether intense, sweet, passionate, sensual or all of the above, he could do it, seamlessly, without batting an eye.

Which would likely explain why Y/N wouldn't be too much in a hurry to show him her little hobby.

Likely, she feared that it would only pale in comparison to the Bard of Avon's prowess.

So it was almost purely by chance that when he had his love staying in his abode, he had come up behind her to find her deeply absorbed in scribbling something in a notebook, so distracted by it that she didn't even realise he was there.

Taking this opportunity, he reads over her shoulder to see what was taking up her attention.

And to say he was impressed...would be putting it lightly. What fanciful wording! Such poetry!

He could quite literally feel the passion between the characters and the deep love they had for one another.

He never knew his love possessed such a talent for romance, he couldn't help but feel just a little offended she didn't tell him.

To pay her back, he recreates one of the scenes in her writing and surprises her by holding her face in his hands, staring into her luminous eyes as he murmured words of love, much like the male protagonist in her story splaying tender kisses upon her cheek.

The lovely maiden was most flustered indeed.

🌸

[andywinter16]

Touch starved glaives with S/O HC part 3

Grumpy Libertus at your service. My man there is a moody. Would be snappy at everyone in  5 kilometer radius. ( Tredd gets the most shit, cuz he likes to play with fire) Complains even more on food, weather, nobles. (Cuss all of them in Galadh) Folds his arms around his chest, glares so much! (Smooth those wrinkles from his face)  Squad has enough, throws him your way quite literally when they see you. (”It´s your problem now!” yells Crowe, yeets Libertus into your arms)

Wrap yourself around him and don't let go! (Man´s warm and plushy, so it´s deal) Mumbles into your neck that everyone is stupid.(We know Libertus, we know) Scratch his scalp down to his neck. Rebraid his hair (You and Crowe have this exclusive privilege, use it wisely) Kiss those tattoos, he´s proud of his heritage as Galadhian. Shut him up with pecks on lips. (Wants to said something kiss, starts to protest kiss “ Lib, staye quiet and I will kiss you to your hearth content.”“Promise, love?” “Of course, my teddy bear”) It may sound unusual but Lib is big fan of belly rubs (belly scratching, if you will). There is the feeling of domesticity of which he can´t get enough, also your touch is intoxicating. My friends to make this proud man stumble over his words and be tender: speak to him in Galadhian, even better tell him that you love him! (His jaw hangs open, pupils dilated. Swear his whole face is getting pinkish) You just made him the proudest and luckiest man on Eos! Expect homemade galahd style dinner and something little extra ;)

Badass kicking headmage Crowe Altius has graced us with her presence! For the record, she´s not needy you´re needy! ( You know Lib and Nyx won´t let her live it down) After herding her mages and yelling at Nyx and Libertus for their shenaningas, she will corner you in one of the hallways. Her hands cares your sides, kissing you hungrily. Sadly there´s not enough time, so you part your ways with promise to meet at home. (She´s more action driven person as you can see)

My dears, the second you walk into your shared space, she pounces on you. You will end up in bed with Crowe cuddling on top of you. She adores the closeness, your warm enveloping her like a blanket. In your embrace Crowe feels serene and whole. (You´re what´s makes her want to survive this crazy war) When she takes her hair down, brush it for her! (Crowe will even let you style it)  Shower her with kisses on her clevage, arms, neck just everywhere. The giggles she makes are adorable! (And will return it tenfold back) Gaze longinly into her chocolate eyes, take her hands into yours and kiss her knucles. THIS!  For Crowe this is such soft and pure act of intimacy that should be cherished in the harsh world. Softly hums to her, and draw ornaments on her back, Crowe will doze off on you. (dreaming of life with you and her friends) If you pinch her sides prepare for pillowfight :*

[sunfyresrider]

Hi. First, I have to confess something. I absolutely adore your writing about Aegon. Love it very much. You're doing great. And secondly, please, forgive me if my request does not seem interesting to you.

You've been married to prince Aemond for a while now. Your marriage is smooth, calm, even boring. Aemond is not interesting to you, you are not interesting to Aemond at all. Aemond adores another woman, and you know it. And everyone knows about it. And everyone knows, that you know. But every time, you are approached with this question, you gently smile and assure these people, that prince Aemond is a wonderful husband, that he is just a perfect husband. And they believe you. You are not just a "Lady without feelings" and "Lady with an icy face", you are a Lady, whose gift of persuasion borders on something unreal. And this is very good for someone. In public, you are a loving wife, looking with soft affection at her husband and her new family, but as soon, as the celebration ends, your face becomes empty again and you hardly talk.

Once Aemond told you, that he was grateful for your calmness, in the matter with his love, and that he always deeply respected you, and that it would always be like this, you are an important friend to him. He is sorry, that his heart and body do not belong to you, because he sees, that you are a wonderful person and, that his family, ahem, your family, has tender feelings for you. You looked into his eye with your empty eyes, sighed wearily, shrugged and returned to reading the book. When he was already at the door, your even voice sounded in his ears: "anything, that makes you happy, Prince."

Although you had little life in you, you quickly won the favor of the Targaryen family. You can be invited to take a walk, to you can come to cry, with you can just sit together in silence. And the longer you stay within these walls, the more one of the princes will get attached to you.

Prince Aegon, for some strange reasons, felt very calm and comfortable around you. The chaos in his soul and head calms down, when you're around. He saw, his sister crying in your arms, and you gently and delicately stroked her head and back. He saw, you cradling his mother in your arms. He saw, his father complaining to you, that he was tired, and you were doing something with his palm. He even saw that old maid, who cried on your lap, when her daughter and grandson died. He saw, how you accepted all this pain, how you absorbed this fear and pain, in order to leave a place for something bright in someone else's soul.

If you dissect Lady Y/n's head, you can learn a lot of interesting things about other people. It is a pity, that she is silent.

Once, when he was sobbing in your arms, and you were gently swaying from side to side, you assured him, that he was an adult, strong, smart and good boy, that there was a lot of goodness in him. Then Aegon tried to get into your soul, but you deftly switched all attention back to him. Prince Aegon, literally, warmed up and melted to you with every second of your stay in the castle.

If you had asked him not to abuse alcohol tonight, he would have snorted, that he was a prince here, and he decides what to do. And all the festive evening poor Aegon will drink a single unhappy cup of wine. But then, before going to bed, you will thank him with a soft smile.

If you were very ill for a long time, your husband would visit you regularly, but his brother would not leave you. You haven't woken up for the sixth night, and Aegon is angry, hissing, that he is trying to get rid of you, in order to drag his witch here. "Either you both stop throwing baseless rudeness at each other, or both of you get the fuck out of here... - Your eyes are still closed, and your voice is weak and hoarse. - No one poisoned me... At least, not my own husband... At least, I hope so..." Later, the culprit will certainly be found.

Aegon knows, what you like and what you don't. In almost every way. Of course, he tries to keep a respectful distance, but how to resist such a temptation. And he asks you to dance or take a walk again. He again brings flowers or a cute trinket, that you will like.

In fact, the prince has always had a weakness, for a little girl with the face of a hundred-year-old woman. Ever since childhood, he thought, that a girl with no feelings on her face, was pretty cute. That her tired eyes, which seemed, to have seen a hells, are very beautiful. But then it was quickly forgotten. And it came up again, when he saw those tired eyes next to his brother. You married his brother, well aware of his relationship with another, and still continue to defend his honor.

From the very first time you appeared in this house, Aegon tried to please you. At first, unobtrusively, in small things. But your third name day is coming up within these walls, and Aegon is persuading his sister and mother to arrange a grand celebration for you. Aegon hissed at everyone, who, in his opinion, thought badly of you and looked badly in your direction. There was also a such thing, that he did not concede the dance with you to your husband.

When Aegon comes to your chambers late at night, he always listens at first, afraid to find his brother there. Yes, everyone knows, that the prince and the lady sleep separately, but Aegon wouldn't want to suddenly see this. Pain and shame eat him alive again, and he goes for consolation. But as soon, as he leans his ear against your door, he hears how indecently you express yourself, how you curse everything and everyone, how you wish, that everyone would burn down, and, it seems, you throw something at the wall? He winces with pride and joy. He'll come back to you a little later, with a bottle and something delicious.

Aegon will know, that you are not empty, what you are not lifeless. That you have anger and pain in you. That you know, how to praise and humiliate. That you know, what it's like, to be an unwanted and unloved child.

"As for his illegitimate children, his bastards, let him bring them, I will say that they are mine. I don't care. But! She will take care of them." "Yes, mama, I also think, that he should have married my younger sister, - you mimicked your mother. - Yes, mama, I know, I'm evil and ugly, please, forgive me. Yes, mommy, I also think, that your first unborn child should have been me. - You kept mimicking your mother and making taunts, and Aegon kept drinking a lot of wine, because he was getting sadder." "No, I have no plans for the future and no dreams... Okay, I'm lying, there is. I want to die before, they demand heirs from me. - You looked at the ceiling. - And I want to ride a dragon... Well, I mean, to fly on a dragon. It's, I think, like on a ship, only a dragon. And I want to pat the dragon..." "No, he only married me, because it's convenient. I won't make a scene, because of his infidelity, he knows that. We discussed it. I don't love him, he loves her, our families are in union, everyone is happy. It's a bit of a shame, that I wasn't chosen again, but... I'm no stranger to this. I've always been overboard of life. I know, that when I die, nothing will change. I don't care, I'm already tired."

Aegon will take care of you. Aegon will protect you. Aegon will force you to open up to him. Aegon will make you adore him. If necessary.

Thank you so much for the compliment and I’m really glad you enjoyed what I write!!! This is a great plot BUT i’m not sure if you want me to expand on what you have or simply post it. I’m writing an AU fic with a super similar plot like INSANELY similar so I hope you’ll like that! (minus dragons)

[the-tummy-closet]

Grizzly

((Author’s Note: inspired by..... a post. maybe you've seen the one.))

They set up their camp near the edge of the festival grounds, close enough for Julian and Maria to go back and forth. Personally, Emmett would’ve preferred to pitch the tent further away. But their little group didn’t pass through towns often these days, particularly not during harvest season, and he couldn’t deny his friends the chance to watch the villagers hold their contests and hear the storytellers perform their songs.

He couldn’t complain too much anyway. The village they’d found themselves in was located at the mouth of a great river, and as it turned out, this time of year was not so much harvest season for them as it was fishing season. He’d come back from his single trip to the festival grounds with a basket full of bark-wrapped fillets of fresh salmon, roasted on hot coals. The fish was hot and smoky and perfect, one of the most delicious things he’d ever tasted, and he was perfectly content to spend his evening lounging by the campfire, unwrapping filet after filter as he waited for his friends to return.

He ate warm, tender fish until he felt like his stomach would burst if he tried another swallow. Then he pulled his cloak around himself, leaned into the bundle of furs at his back, and closed his eyes to let himself digest.

It was Maria’s amused voice close by his ear that roused him: “You still with us, Em?” 

“…Hmm?” Emmett dragged open an eye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been drowsing, but it sure hadn’t been long enough for his belly to make much progress, as evidenced by the way his sides ached as he shifted to look at Maria. “What?”

“Just checking on ya. They’re serving up dessert over at the festival grounds. Blueberry pie.” She tilted her wooden bowl so he could see. “It’s delicious.”  

“Mmm….” Normally, Emmett would have just dismissed dessert out of hand, but the firelight glinted off the syrup oozing out between the golden pastry in Maria’s bowl, and despite all the fish weighing down his insides, his mouth watered. “Looks good. Too bad I’m so stuffed with salmon I don’t think I can get up.”

Maria laughed. “Aww. Who doesn’t overdo it at festivals, though?”

“I’m not joking, Maria. I would go get pie if I could. But I literally can’t move.” To illustrate his point, he tried to sit upright, huffing a little as the pressure in his belly spiked. His cloak slipped away, revealing the way his shirt was clinging to the swell of his middle, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he stared down and fully appreciated how silly he must look.

“Damn!” Maria laughed, sounding both incredulous and a little concerned. “Okay Em, yeah, that tummy looks pretty heavy. Are you feeling okay?” 

“Mmhmm.” Sitting up straight was starting to make Emmett’s stomach cramp, so he sank back into the furs with a soft sigh, resting one hand against the curve of his lower belly. “Just full.”

Maria settled onto the pile of furs next to him, snuggling up against his side. Her hand tentatively found the bulge where Emmett’s stomach was protruding beneath his ribs, and she laughed as he stifled a burp. “I’ll say. How many of those fish packets did you eat?”

“Mmm… lost count.” Emmett braced his hand against his side as another burp worked its way up, and then groaned contentedly as Maria began to rub gentle circles over the tightness of his dinner. “Fuck, that feels good, Maria… Keep doing that, please.”

“Are you two cuddling without me?” Julian’s bright voice preceded him plopping down on Emmett’s other side. “There’s pie at the cookfire, Em. I brought you some.”

“He’s full up to his ears with fish,” Maria laughed, patting Emmett’s belly.

“So he is.” Julian’s expression shifted to something both amused and deeply fond. “You must’ve been hungry.”

“Yeah. And the salmon here is just so fucking good.” Emmett groaned ruefully as he glanced down at the two bowls of pie resting on Julian’s lap. “Bet that pie’s good too.”

“Oh, it is. I would even venture to say that it’s not to be missed. If your stomach has the room, that is.” Julian’s hand joined Maria’s on the bulge of Emmett’s belly. His fingers pressed in gently, as though to emphasize how taut it was, but at the same time, he moved one of the bowls into Emmett’s lap. “I bet you could manage a little taste.”

“Mmm. Stuffed with salmon and now being tempted with blueberries. I feel like a damn grizzly.” Emmett sighed softly, considering. The bowl of pie that Julian had placed on his leg had slipped to rest against the curve of his belly, and he was so full and sensitive there that its weight felt heavy even on the outside of him. He wasn’t sure he could fit much more in. But then again… Maria was right. Festivals were typically for overdoing it. And what better place to overdo it than here, with soft furs and a crackling fire and a loved one close on either side?

“I’m gonna have a little,” he decided. “But... mmm...” —he paused as his stomach gurgled uncertainly— “I might be kinda out of it afterwards.”

“That’s alright, Em, we got you.” Maria swept her hand up to rest just below his ribs and began rubbing gentle circles with her fingers. “You should have as much as you want.”

“Absolutely agreed.” Julian’s palm was pressed to Emmett’s taut side, warm and supportive. “Just be careful, dear. Don’t make yourself sick.”

Emmett didn’t feel sick in the slightest, which was unusual for him, considering how far past full he already was. As he put the first bite of pie in his mouth, savoring the perfect balance of tartness and sweetness and the way the tender pastry flaked between his teeth, he couldn’t help but wish that he were able to indulge himself to this point more often. Eating on such a stuffed stomach felt… intensely and viscerally good in a way that he had rarely experienced. He could feel the very edges of his body, thanks to the way each swallow pressed outwards as it squeezed down, and it was pleasurable in that same primal way he sometimes felt when he was running or riding or fighting—as though he were a wild animal, all raw natural power, bound by nothing but his body and its limits.

And then of course, there was the press of his friends’ hands over the sore stretch of his belly. It wasn’t just the relief of pressure eased, of tension gently massaged away—although that was incredibly good on its own—but also the powerful intimacy of it all, the way he could feel affection in each careful press and concern in every slow, thoughtful motion. He could feel each touch easing the burden of everything he’d eaten—the circles beneath his ribs helping each bite find a tiny crevice of room to settle into, the slow sweeps over his navel calming strained twinges and rumbles, the kneading into his sides helping the muscles relax so his belly could swell out even further.

He was so caught up in the sensation of it that he felt drunk. Everything else around him seemed to blur into a haze—the warmth of the fire, the repetitive scrape of his spoon against the bowl, the soft sounds of Maria and Julian chatting. It pulled him partway out of his daze when he realized they were talking about him.

“…I dunno, should we stop him? His tummy is getting enormous.”

“Hmm, he really is quite bloated, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, and I mean—seriously, Julian, feel right here, under his ribs.”

The hand supporting the heaviness of Emmett’s lower belly suddenly disappeared. He made a soft sound of protest, which was quickly replaced by a deep groan as it reappeared on the sensitive swell high in his middle, where pie and fish were packed tightly in his stomach.

“Oh my.” Julian’s voice was full of concern. “Are you sure you’re alright, Emmett dear? Your belly feels so full.”

A thumb pressed a gentle circle into the extra-tight lump inside him, while another warm hand rubbed over its side before pressing down towards his navel to support it from underneath. Emmett groaned happily, feeling his stomach gurgle appreciatively with the help, and mumbled, “Mmm… yeah, I’m good.”

As the neared the bottom of the bowl, he developed a vague awareness that he was reaching some kind of limit. The strained feeling in his stomach had grown throbbingly intense, and he was starting to feel uneasy grumbles even through the supportive press of his friends’ hands. The bowl was nearly empty, and part of him wanted to finish it, just to see if he could. But the next morsel of pie he swallowed forced up a wheezy belch, and he had the distinct feeling that he had just traded the last bit of air in his stomach to hold that bite.

“Ugh,” he gasped. “Ohhh, my stomach… okay, I’m... I’m—urp—done.”

Immediately, the bowl was taken from his hands, and he felt an arm—it was hard to say whose—gently encircling his shoulders. He wanted to tell them that he’d prefer that hand on his belly, really, but after wheezing out his admission of defeat, he couldn’t get enough breath back to say anything more. He was so full that his lungs felt squeezed, so full that the bloat of it all was forcing him to sit with his back arched. Trying to bend at the waist to move into any other position seemed impossible.

“Come on, boy, don’t explode on us.” Maria’s voice was warm and affectionate, close to his ear. “That was seriously impressive. You’re not in pain, are you?”  

Emmett tried to say “no,” but all that came out of him was a ragged groan. He flashed a little grin instead, trying to make sure that Maria knew he was alright. His stomach did ache, but in a nice way, like the satisfying soreness he felt in his body after a good day’s work. Not to mention, the press of loving hands was soothing the ache out of his overworked stomach like a massage soothing cramps from overworked muscles. 

“Poor dear. Can’t even speak, can you?” Julian’s voice coincided with a gentle press of a hand over his navel, and Emmett panted as a wave of relief surged through his straining belly. “Have I mentioned how adorable you are when you indulge yourself?”

It was a good thing Julian found it adorable. Emmett could only imagine that he looked like an absolute mess. But that was the beautiful thing about having people who loved you. It didn’t matter. Sometimes being messy only made them love you more.

“Somebody looks ready to hibernate.” Julian patted Emmett’s distended belly with a chuckle. “Seems like you’ve got enough in here to last you until spring.”  

“Shuddup,” Emmett mumbled, letting his head fall sideways to press his cheek into Julian’s shoulder. He groaned softly as he felt an uncomfortable rumble building in his overstuffed stomach, and then again as Maria’s hand kneaded in to settle it. It was a struggle to catch his breath, but he managed to groan, “Fuck… I’m so full…”

“Yeah, we noticed. Kinda hard to miss all this.” Maria swept her hand over Emmett’s swollen front, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’d better get to work on digesting, because we’re going to have to move you eventually.”  

“Hrmph.” Emmett rubbed his knuckles over the crest of his stomach, thinking that his digestion had already been hard at work for quite some time.

“Don’t worry. We’ll help.” Julian patted just below where Emmett was rubbing, prompting a grumble from deep in his belly. “Did you enjoy that pie?”

“Mmm… yeah. So good.” Emmett arched his back just a tiny bit more, hoping to illustrate that he was enjoying all the attention, too.

Julian seemed to get the picture, judging by the way he chuckled and obligingly rubbed a broad circle across the expanse of Emmett’s belly. “You just get some rest.”

Emmett didn’t need to be told twice. He let every muscle in his body fall slack, including his eyelids. The world shrank down to the warmth of the fire and the weight of his stomach and the warm trails of relief left in the wakes of his friends’ hands, and he drifted off to sleep.

[muffindaddystyles]

HarryWeen: We dressed as daddy tonight!

WARNING: None, dilfrry fluffieeesss is all 🥺🥺

WORD COUNT: 900.

Harry was gonna surprise Y/N today. He and Harry Lambert kept his costume for Harryween in silly secrecy, but guess that his designer's more of his wifey's bestie than his's.

He was grinning hard at his reflection in the mirror loving the way his cheeks looks awfully cute and apple like with pink blush, his face resembling to that of a puffery fishy when the corners of false eyelashes pokes him in a weird way and he chuckles remembering all those time Y/N complains about wearing them and loosing them but he always makes sure to stick them to their mirror and mark them with a sharpie.

It was quite odd when he sent someone to call Y/N from the hall room and even that person didn’t return.

“Mark could you please call Y/N for me?” He felt giddy and bloody enthralled to see Y/N’s reaction, her bright praising eyes and bouncy toes from excitation always gives him a boost of serotonin.

His big crystal pupils rolled up to his forehead in attempt to see the cute headband adorned atop his head and he pokes it slightly to slip it back into it’s place, quickly scrambling towards the middle of room when the door-knob to the dressing room jiggled.

His mouth fell slack. His strawberry lipstick chapping a little from his heavy breathing, the room caramel-ed with the sweet giggles of his lovelies.

“You!” points at her in fake accusation, his grin irreplaceable and too wide, “Bloody you–.” He squeals with the rush of elation.

It seems like a fever dream.

“Hi, Bubby.” Y/N laughs out loudly. Harry Lambert standing behind the two with a super cheeky proud grin, “Meet your lil Dorothy!!” She bounces their thirteen months old baby on her hip.

Vinnie. Their little baby girl’s dressed exactly like her daddy, from head to toe— not even a detail goes un-matched, her chubby cute cheeks already too pink. She’s so small, so cute and Harry shakes his head vigorously in disbelief .. his dimples milking deep from him smiling hard laugh sputtering out of his goaded chest.

His heart bursts into non-stop hiccups with fondness and love that blossoms into every single of his body seeing his baby, his fucking baby dressed as him.

He could kiss Harry Lambert right now on fucking lips.

“Dada!” Vinnie makes grabby hands at his dad, thrashing her red boot covered feetsies, wiggling in her mums arms eagerly and Harry cackles out loudly giving a kiss to Y/N, “Thank you so much. You’ve no fuckin’ idea how much this means t’a me, bubbles.” He murmurs against her head pecking it last time before embracing his little precious bean in his arms, “You look cute.” She smiles kissing the tip of his nose warming up when he his features scrunches up in shyness.

“... And thank you, Harry, Yeh really deserves to get laid tonight have a sexy time.” He winks at him grumbling when his falsie irks him being his literal enemy for the time.

Vinnie coos and babbles curiously peeping up at Harry, a tiny bib around her neck to save her poor costume from getting ruined from her drools.

Harry wipes her mouth taking her dummy out as he speaks to her in the softest and sweetest voice Y/N has heard from him.

“You’re matching daddy t'night, hmm bug? Look how cute you’re.. my cutest little baby.” He croons rocking her in his arms, tapping her cheek with his pointer and watching it jiggle, feeling his heart swarm with infatuation when she giggles at her dad’s silly action.

He puts his fingers on his mouth pretending to be shocked, giving obnoxiously wide comic eyes to the little one, “Even wearin’ the same booties as dada! You copycat!” Vinnie melts all over his chest with the fits of her giggles sighing against him with a soft breather as it tires her and Harry’s feeling undescribed happiness being the reason of her giggly mood.

Y/N’s watching the duo with gleamy tender eyes, it was the best thing she came up with and she’s glad as ever that Harry Lambert also wanted to see this happiness radiate off Harry.

“You wanna be my lil candy?” He gives his baby a toothy grin when she hits her fists with loud gleeful squeals at the sight of Harry’s little basket, “Aww.” They all synchronise, laughing as Harry takes the dog stuff toy out and settles Vinnie there instead snapping her pictures with his own phone.

“Aren’t the loves of my life insanely adorable.” Y/N beams taking their pictures when Harry grabbed the basket from floor and posed with it cutely, his bubba totally on the moon enjoying being put into something small and two sizes bigger than her.

“I love you so ,so ,so much bug.” His lovin’ for his daughter getting muffled into the loud purposely smacks of ‘mwah!’ as he showers her in his kisses not caring if his pink lipsticks all over her soft face making her smell like strawberries.

He loves it when his scents is on her and her honey sweet baby scent is all over his chest from holding her for dear life everytime.

“You and mumma g'na come and see dada?” He asks raising her wrists closer to his mouth and kisses her delicate teensy hands.

She blubbers grinning and showing her only tiny teeth flashing at front.

“Yay!” He dances them around clicking his boots to make her laugh and hugs her with her head crooked into his neck when she actually does fall into her dad’s trap.

It’s the best Halloween he has get to experience so far.

[rek1s-headband]

hi! figured i’d drop a request for you :))! Maybe some general bf hcs for reki and langa? Just in general how they would be as a boyfriend or how they would act in a relationship?

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, I’ve been excited to do one of these. I hope you enjoy it!

➯ random boyfriend headcannons

➯ characters: Reki Kyan and Langa Hasegawa x gn reader

➯ warnings: none! Just some fluff for these two boys:)

Reki:

-Literally the most enthusiastic person you’ve ever seen. He’d be happy to just sit in silence with you because come on, it’s YOU. There’s no one he’d rather be wasting the hours away with.

-Your biggest hype man, EVER. You post something on Instagram? Get ready for a flood of comments, all from him. You could put your phone down for two minutes after posting, and you’ll come back to 99+ notifications of just reki commenting along the lines of “woah suddenly I’m on one knee” “DAMNNNN” and many, many more.

-Never leave your phone unattended around him. He won’t snoop, but be prepared to come back to your camera roll flooded with just zoomed in pictures of his face, his mouth, his eye, ANYWHERE. Mf is spamming your whole phone with pictures of him for you to come back to.

-He has to always be touching you in some way. Whether it’s holding your hand, your waist, a casual arm around your shoulder, there has to be something. He’ll put his hand on your ass sometimes while you walk in public.

-Honestly doesn’t even think PDA is anything out of the ordinary. Like, you’re his s/o??? Yes you’re in his lap, yes you’re in the middle of the skatepark, so what? You’re his, and he’s happy he can make everyone aware of that.

-I saw a post on here that said he would peel stickers off fruit and stick them to peoples’ foreheads, and I fully stand by this. However, it doesn’t just stop at fruit stickers. Anything remotely sticky, whether it’s tags from clothes, tape from a food box, even random sequins and bits of glitter he finds around, it’s immediately being stuck to some part of your face.

-Loves casual dates. Stopping by food stalls, browsing in clothes and game stores for a few hours, and skating around with you until it’s time to go home is a dream for him. Be prepared for day-long dates, because he will clear his entire schedule just to spend the day with you.

-His family adores you. His mother is always goading him to bring you over more, complaining that she misses her "honorary son/daughter/child". His sisters love you too. Any time you come over there’s immediately three tiny bodies shooting at you, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you over to wherever they’re playing. Reki tries to drag you away, wanting to have you for himself, but you always try and stay for at least five or ten minutes. Secretly, he loves that you get along so well with his siblings, going soft at the thought of how you would act with children of your own.

-He loves playing video games with you. Sitting in his lap, the two of you could spend hours switching from game to game. One minute you could be burning down a village in Minecraft, the next complaining while Reki whoops your ass in Mario Kart. His mom brings you food for your breaks between games, and she’ll even stay for a few minutes to talk to you while Reki shifts underneath you, glowing red from embarassment.

-If you can’t skate, he would beg to teach you. If you accept, he goes all out. He’ll make you your own customised board just for practicing, making sure it’s absolutely perfert for you to learn on. But if you can skate, get ready for endless races and competitions to see who can nail a new trick the quickest.

-Adores when you come to S to support him. He loves looking into the crowd and seeing you there cheering him on before he goes into a beef. If he wins, he’ll race over to where you are in the crowd, picking you up and spinning you around, kissing you without a care in the world. However, if he loses he’s thankful you’re always there to pick him back up and make him feel better afterwards.

-Loves cleaning you up after a big fall, kissing your bruises and cuts better. He’ll carefully wrap each injury with care, telling you how brave you are, no matter how small the cut. Secretly, he loves when you baby him after he falls himself. Seeing you wipe away the blood from a new cut and place a small plaster on it with such tenderness melts his heart in a way only you could.

-Speaking of plasters, this man has one for every occasion. Princesses, pirates, aliens, cats, dogs, sparkles, stripes, you name it, he’s got it.

-The type to sneak you out at two in the morning to get a slushee with him. Honestly, he’s up so late making boards for people he just has no perception of time.

-Spams your phone with TikToks or other funny things that reminds him of you. It could be a very specific thing, or a flower or cloud. If he thinks of you when he sees it(which is fairly often), it gets sent to you.

-Talks with his hands a lot. He’s a very expressive talker, so when he’s telling you a story it feels like you’re right there in the story with him.

-Please just kiss him. His cheeks, his forehead, his hand, his shoulder, his temples, his lips. Anywhere, he’ll melt under you. Mf is touch starved to the max.

-Always knows how to make you laugh. His laugh is infectious, it could get you out of your darkest moods.

-Sleeps with his head on your chest, and one hand in your shirt little perv.

-His social media is like a SHRINE for you. His highlights, his posts, his stories, EVERYWHERE. He’s just so proud to be able to call you his that he wants the whole world to know.

-Kisses in the rain while you run home, skateboards in your hands after the weather forecast failed you once again. He’s just so happy in the moment that he can’t contain himself, so he’s pulling you into him in the pouring rain, kissing you hard while your hair gets drenched.

-You don’t need to steal his clothes, he will literally give them to you because “you just look so cute wearing them”. Occasionally, he’ll take one of your hoodies, and even if it doesn’t exactly fit him, he’ll still keep it near him while he sleeps so he can keep your scent close to him.

Langa:

-This man is so oblivious to obvious hints, but still manages to pick up on the smallest of details? It’s incredible, honestly. He could describe the exact colour of your eyes with the most insane detail, but he still won’t notice when you try and hint that you like him in the first place!

-You two have a bit more of a low-key relationship, but you’ll make your usual appearance in his Instagram posts, or on his Snapchat story with a casual caption like a simple heart, or “my love<3”

-Not very big on PDA, not because he doesn’t like it, but because he doesn’t think of it. However, when he does feel like he’s being too physically distant, he’ll link pinkies with you as you walk along, or rest his head on your shoulder while you watch a video on your phone.

-His mom adores you, which is why Langa despises bringing you to his house. You always seem to leave with seven of his baby photos from his time snowboarding in Canada, a new recipe from his mother that you complimented, another one of his hoodies, and more miscellaneous stuff that you don’t even know how it ended up in your bag. He has a little shelf in your room specifically for this random stuff, and he always adds to the collection when he comes to your house. He’ll leave a keyring, a small toy, a Polaroid, anything honestly.

-Loves dates that you can experience. The movies, aquariums, museums and the zoo are common dates for the two of you to go on, but other than that, he adores going skateboarding with you. He’s been improving, and he loves when you notice little things he’s been picking up on, whether it be a new trick or simply how he balances himself on the board.

-Adores old Disney movies. Yall will binge a ton of them in one day, having full-blown musicals in Langa’s living room. When any of the romantic songs come on, like “So this is Love” from Cinderella, Langa will stand up and offer his hand to you, as the two of you waltz around his sitting room, humming the tune of the song.

-Study dates are frequent with the two of you. If you happen to stay up late studying and fall asleep on each other, his mother will cover the two of you with a blanket, tidying some of your books and leaving with a smile, happy with the knowledge you were making her son the happiest he’s been in quite a while.

-Slow dancing in the kitchen while you cook is a regular. When a particularly sappy love song comes on while he stirs the pot, he’ll turn around and hold you close to him, twirling you around the kitchen.

-Reki constantly jokes that he is a third wheel, poking fun at the two of you, Cherry and Joe, and Shadow and “his little girlfriend back at the flower shop”. He’ll hang out of Miya, whining about them having to stick together since they’re the only two “lone wolves”. He’ll usually get a well-earned thump into the back of the head from Miya, but it’s still funny to watch the whole thing go down.

-Tends to be shy when giving you clothes, so instead of asking you to wear them he’ll leave them out in places he knows you’ll find them, or he’ll come up behind you and plop it in your lap, murmuring about how cute it would look on you.

-Please do this man’s makeup. He will sit so still for you, waiting patiently while you dab eyeshadow at his eyes, trying not to blink so you don’t mess up his mascara. He’ll sit there mesmerised for a few minutes, taking in how he looks, and simply whisper “you do this every day?”

-Evem though he’s not a very openly affectionate person, he is stuck to your hip behind closed doors. He’ll lie in your lap for hours, staring up at you while you mess with his hair, pulling it into little plaits and pigtails.

-I can’t even describe how the two of you sleep. It’s simply a mass of limbs, and no one knows exactly what belongs to who. Somehow one of yall will end up upside down, and-why is Langa on the floor??

-He could talk about his time in Canada for hours, and you’d just lie on his chest and listen to him. Every once in a while he’ll look down at you to see if you’re still listening, and his heart will melt a little every time he sees you staring back up at him, eyes wide with interest.

-This man NEVER gets jealous. You’d literally have to cling to another man for it to click in his brain that Oh. He doesn’t like that.

-He’s not big on texting, but if you call him he will stay on that call with you for hours, even after the two of you fall asleep.

-Whenever he falls(which is quite often), you’ll always have plasters on hand to help fix him up. He always flushes bright red when you kiss his cuts better, and never knows just what to do with himself afterwards.

-When he skates against tough opponents, you’ll always give him a kiss for good luck. Of course, this doesn’t stop you worrying, but you know Langa wouldn’t go out of his way to get injured. And if he does, well, at least he’ll have you there to kiss his bruises better.

[lovenona]

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.) 

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox. 

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong. 

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met. 

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago. 

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover. 

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.” 

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–” 

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say. 

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up. 

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay. 

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.” 

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda. 

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think. 

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.) 

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.” 

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.” 

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes. 

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full. 

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you. 

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.” 

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.” 

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs. 

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it. 

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?” 

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–” 

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.” 

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly. 

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.” 

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth. 

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?” 

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time. 

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.) 

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?” 

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away. 

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.” 

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.” 

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.” 

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.” 

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is. 

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.” 

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power. 

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name. 

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind. 

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans. 

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.” 

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight. 

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for. 

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being. 

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.” 

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind. 

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.) 

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer. 

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.” 

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge. 

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat. 

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you. 

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water. 

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch. 

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.) 

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone. 

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies. 

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?” 

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way. 

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.” 

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–” 

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.” 

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it. 

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter. 

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence. 

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.” 

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love. 

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone. 

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.” 

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs. 

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.” 

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother. 

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth. 

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets. 

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you. 

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being. 

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”  

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos. 

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum. 

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return. 

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want. 

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”) 

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover. 

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you. 

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now. 

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun. 

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

[pinkteapotwriting]

Not a burden

Marauders x reader

Summary : You’re depressed and the boys confront you about it

Warning : Swearing, depression, food mentions

Word count : 1044

---

I understand how it feels to have depression and just want to say if you’re depressed please reach out to a friend. You are not a burden and the people in your life love you. Boys can’t kiss your depression away this is just a comfort fic, but I promise you’re deserving of love. 

---

You could eat some food, you could drink some water. You could go for a walk, make tea. You could hangout with some friends and maybe forget for a little bit. But no amount of advised “self care” tips could make you any less empty. Sure, being kind to yourself was important, but buying yourself candy as a treat wouldn’t will you to brush your teeth, to finally shower, to feed yourself, and to even think about your boys. Guilt ebbed in the back of your mind as you laid down on your own dorm bed instead of your more common place of rest (lol pick any marauder’s bed anyway), but right now all you craved was to hide in the dark abyss of your room. This way you could hide, and they wouldn’t have to see you like this. You didn’t want to be a burden. So instead you laid on your bed, your troubled mind heavy enough to lull you to sleep.

At least this way you wouldn’t have to think.

You were woken up by a soft touch to your cheek, your grumbly voice very much opposite to the gentleness brushing against you. 

“Y/N, Y/N come on honey you’ve got to wake up.”

“Lils, I just wanna sleep.”

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Besides, I figured it would be better if I woke you up rather than them…”

“Them?”

Your question was quickly answered when you heard the stampede of rushed feet, and an impatient Sirius.

“Lily what’s taking so long?”

“Shut it Black, I just woke her up, give her some space.”

You did your best to hide under the covers as you felt the bed dip down and James speak up.

“Y/N come on are you alright?” At your silence he looked to Lily in question, but she could only offer a shrug. “Why don’t you come back to bed, you can sleep there instead, it feels empty without you, love.”

You held back a sniffle and shook your head, but somehow Lily was replaced with Remus without your realizing and he gently pulled down the covers to see you.

“Puppy, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. Just tired, can you let me sleep now?”

“Sure, Sirius have you got her clothes and toiletry bag?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, we’re good to go then.”

Before you could even process what was happening you were being scooped up in Remus’s arms. So, without the possibility of escaping you were carried off towards the boys dormitory and soon enough you were being plopped on Remus’s bed.

“What the fuck guys.” 

“We love you too Y/N”

You just rolled your eyes at Sirius, but they were quickly drawn to the sound of Remus clearing his throat. Oh boy, here he goes. His level and concerned tone only reminded you how riddled with pity they were. They just felt bad, obligated out of guilt to bother keeping up with you. But still, you tried to listen.

“Y/N, we’ve barely seen you for the past three days, you’re not coming down to eat, you’re pushing everyone away. We’ve been worried sick, not to mention Marlene and Lily. Please, if we did something to hurt you tell us. But I think we both know there’s something else going on and we’re here to help.”

“Y/N we love you please.” James chided in while Sirius nodded in agreement.

“Stop it I’m fine, you don’t have to pretend it’s okay.” 

Sirius spoke up this time. “Pretend what?”

“I don’t know, just that you shouldn’t have to waste your time on me. I know you guys feel bad for me, but please you deserve better. You are everything and I’m disgusting and horrible and and.”

Sirius did not let you finish, considering he already let you call yourself disgusting by accident.

“That’s bullshit! You are not disgusting, and we don’t fucking pity you. We love you. I love you. We want to make sure you’re okay because we love you. You aren’t a burden and even if you were you are one we’d gladly carry. Not because we feel bad, but because you are wonderful and kind and funny and also kinda beautiful but that’s not the most important part.”

“It does kinda help though, doesn’t it Pads?”

“You’re right Prongs,  I’m certainly not complaining.”

You almost let out a laugh at that one, but then remembered all the things you had to be insecure about. Remus could sense it though, he probably knew how you were feeling the most, he knew it all too well.

“Y/N, do you love me? Even after a full moon when I’m not myself and recovering.”

*Sniffle* “Yes.”

“When Sirius got kicked out, and was having a hard time did you love him any less?”

“N-no.”

“Literally James could fucking breathe weird and you’d be coddling him.”

James was grinning ear to ear at that one.

“You are not worthless, we love you. Y/N I think you’re depressed and we want to be here for you. No matter how many times we say we love you, you’re beautiful, that we care, you won’t believe it until you do. That doesn’t mean we’ll ever stop though, okay?”

“K.”

Everyone breathed in the silence like it wasn’t a toxic poison tightening chests, and cutting off circulation. 

“I just” they all leaned in to listen “I just hate myself, like a lot. And I’m just having a hard time existing. I do love you and I’m sorry (Your voice was definitely breaking at this point just a heads up). Some days are better than others but right now I’m really struggling. I’m just tired.”

Remus pulled you into his chest to cradle your quivering body, Sirius slipped in behind, while James wrapped his long arms around all three of you.

Of course immediately the rest of the evening was filled with tender kisses, a hot bath, shitty movies, and a huge chunk of Remus’s chocolate stash. While that night was hard, and it wasn’t easy learning to love yourself, hell even tolerating yourself. They couldn’t make all the pain go away, that’s not their responsibility. But they loved you so much.

And always wanted to be there to show it to you.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @weasleyposts @accioweaslcy @thotbutpurple

[yellowcabdriver]

love language

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier wants to love you the right way.

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warning: none

A/N: this was written in like 20 minutes before I went to sleep so sorry in advance for mistakes 🥲 Also, a kiss on a head for those who guesses Javier’s love language I tried to force in here 🥰🤣

“What form of love language do you prefer?”

You raised your head from the paperwork you had been filling out for what seems like an eternity.

“What?”

Elena shook some heavy-looking glossy magazine in her hand.

“There’s a test in here. Wanna find out?”

You went back to filing the report and shrugged your shoulders.

“How many love languages are there anyway?”

“Umm…” Elena quickly flipped through a few pages. “Five.”

Usually, you were not the one to indulge in magazines, especially not at work but… it had been a long day at the embassy. Very long. You spent the first part of the day typing out reports for Noonan, then you had to go to the archive and sew together some old documents in a badly lit backroom in the company of, you were sure of it, a ghost of someone who died in that backroom choking on an ungodly amount of dust. Your back was aching, high heels required by the dress code were straight up slaughtering your feet one step at a time. And also, you were bored out of your mind.

“Wow, okay.” You sighed and plopped down on a chair. “Sure, let’s see. I needed a break anyway.”

With a victorious shriek, Elena started reading out questions and marking the answers down on the pages with a pencil that desperately needed to be sharpened.

“Okay, you got…” her lips inaudibly moved as she was counting the results. “You got words of affirmation.”

“Oh, bullshit!” You threw your head back in sardonic laughter and stretched out your legs. “I don’t enjoy being complemented at all, I always get super uncomfortable!”

Elena shrugged her shoulders as she was erasing her pencil notes from the magazine.

“Maybe you do, somewhere deep down.”

“Nope, not a chance,” you snickered. “Your magazine is full of lies.”

“Hey!” Jokingly offended, Elena hugged the magazine to her chest. “It’s my only entertainment in this lifeless pile of paper!”

“What did you get then?” You asked, propping your cheek with your palm making you sound all muffled.

“Acts of service.”

“Well then, I’ll tell David to serve you up real nice.”

An enemy missile in the form of a crumpled piece of paper landed on your table.

“Oh screw you!”

“What’s the hustle?”

Elena and you immediately straightened up at the voice of a visitor who, upon further inspection, turned out to be your boyfriend, Javier.

“It’s just me, not Noonan,” he raised his palms slowly walking to your table as you two relaxed into your previous positions. Javier sat down at the edge of your table next to your chair and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, this was his way of saying hello.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked. Boy, were you ever.

“Of course, I am. So tired,” you complained suppressing a yawn. Javier smiled, soothingly stroking your hand.

“Let’s just go home, they don’t even pay us any overtime anyway,” Elena muttered, shooting a resentful stare at the piles of documents in front of her.

“By the way,” Javier turned to look at Elena. “David is downstairs, I think you’re gonna catch up.”

These words were enough for Elena to throw away her magazine, which honour she was just defending by violating a Geneva Convention of friendship, and bolt out of office without further ado. You and Javier looked at each other in amusement and burst into laughter at the same time.

“We should also go.”

“Yep, let’s go home.”

Nominally, “home” was Javier’s apartment, it was closer to the office and was overall much nicer than your place. Driving down the familiar street—the next turn after that yellow house, you were thinking, is home—Javier put his hand on your lap and asked you:

“Why were you arguing with Elena? Did she do something to you?”

“Oh, she did, she Inflicted the pain of knowing the content of a beauty magazine,” you half-heartedly complained, enjoying the warmth of Javier’s large hand on your thigh. Javier grinned at your remark.

“That harsh, huh?”

“We were just bored and decided to take a dumb test from the magazine.”

Javier chuckled as he quickly glanced at you, his yellow aviators catching a glimpse of the setting sun.

“About what?”

“Something about love language.”

“And what about it?”

“Well, found out that my love language is apparently words of affirmation.”

The car slowly stopped in the driveway as you reached Javier’s apartment building.

“Really?” He smiled at you, kissing the back of your hand. You almost melted at the gesture of his casual affection.

“Yes, who would’ve thought, right?”

Javier laughed again, exiting the car and jogging to your side to open the door for you. You jumped down and placed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth as a thank you.

“So it means you need to hear words of affirmation every day? Like your Cleo?” Javier asked, locking the car doors and turning slightly to look at you with a smile. You snorted. “Your Cleo” was a plant sitting comfortably on a windowsill of your office. She was a dying little thing until you saved her from being literally abused in the dark hallway of the embassy. Once you got her into a well-lit room and started watering her properly with actual water and not residue 3-in-1 coffee, Cleo turned into a stunning blooming beauty. You did talk to her, mostly paying her compliments—yes, weird, but you read somewhere that plants responded to positive affirmation. Javier, of course, didn’t believe any of that but for you, and he highlighted that specifically, he would greet Cleo every now and then when he entered your and Elena’s office.

“I am not like Cleo!” You huffed, making Javier smile as he hugged you by your waist and you two started walking towards his apartment. “But I believe everyone flourishes under kind words, don’t you think?”

Javier opened the door to his place and let you enter first.

“That’s a fair point, hermosa.”

The evening went by as it usually did: you two ate a dinner that Javier quickly put together—you maybe were a better cook but a slow one, for sure. Then you went to put Javier’s clothes into a washing machine, a dreadful loud thing that was tumbling around so hard you were afraid it would explode, while Javier washed the dishes. Finally, you two settled on the coach to watch some classic evening telenovelas because nothing relaxes a person more than an intricate plot of a tv show where somehow everyone ends up being everyone’s relative.

You were very engulfed in an episode—main character shot a man who turned out to be her biological father,—when Javier quietly asked:

“Am I saying enough compliments to you?”

“What?” You let out an involuntary laughter but as you turned to look at Javier, he didn’t seem to be joking.

“You said your preferred love language is words of affirmation and I’m… cariño, you know I’m not good with words,” Javier let out a bitter chuckle rubbing his temple—a nervous habit. “Am I showing you enough love?”

Oh.

Oh.

That you didn’t expect.

You turned the volume down and quickly climbed on Javi’s lap. He uncomfortably glanced up at the ceiling with a vulnerability you never saw him exude before. You could see something you would believe was more of your thing—an insecurity of being not enough.

“Javi, please, look at me,” you took his face in your hands and he immediately left a quick kiss on your palm, like a reflex.

God, that man was gonna be the death of you.

“Javi, my love, I never said anything about my preferences, it was just a dumb magazine. And besides, I don’t need to hear compliments, you know I can’t even take them well!” you said causing Javier knowingly to raise his eyebrows in agreement. Your left hand found its way to the back of his head and into his soft curls making Javier groan quietly.

“I love you so much and I love your ways of showing affection. I feel loved, if anything I feel adored.” You let your right index finger trace his aquiline nose and Javier closed his eyes at your tender touch. You began to press soft kisses all over his face.

“You love me so well, Javier Peña. You are so caring, so wonderful, so handsome, and sooooo sexy…” you exhaled as your kisses reached his jaw and you felt him smile. “I love you, Javi. So so much.”

Javier opened his eyes and pulled you in for a proper kiss.

“I love you, too, mi corazon,” his hands gently squeezing your thighs.

As this gesture pressed you closer, you felt the tightness in his jeans. Jokingly widening your eyes you glanced down, between your bodies, as Javier offered you a shy boyish grin.

“Ohh, but I see that someone else’s love language is definitely words of affirmation.”

Javier’s hands slid under your shirt and tightened around your waist as he began to leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck prompting you to let out a shamelessly loud moan.

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that,” he softly said, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “I really love to hear your praise, mi amor.”