#they mean so much to me. foaming at the mouth tears in my eyes i love them sm. im so normal about this bro

[xxsunoosprincess]

Reunion

Jake x fem!reader

Your first night with Jake after months apart.

MDNI, 18+, not full out fucking but pretty close, college!AU, fem bodied!reader, talks of consent, humor, fluff, smut, long distance couple, reunion sex, feeling overwhelmed, not edited because I didn’t feel like it sorry

“Fuck, baby Fuck” Jake is panting hotly against your mouth, desperately pawing at your top. He’s going at it blind— he’s too busy drinking in your beautiful face being so close to his after so long— so sue him if he stretches out the neckline of your top to get your tits out. It’s some cheap cami you packed to sleep in during the long weekend you are spending in Jake’s dorm. Secretly he is happy that stupid tank top is gone, anyway. ‘Opportunistic’ feels like too sophisticated of a word to call a man that is actively humping against the meat of your ass, but he grins to himself as he pictures ruining every single shirt you brought so you are forced to wear his shirts instead.

He’s on some brain dead, gooner train of thought about maybe ruining your panties, too; soiling them with his cum; having you soak through them until they are unwearable; tear them apart trying to get to your cunt; anything so that you spend the weekend not only in his shirts but with no bottoms so he can fuck you whenever; when you notice the mess he has made of your top.

“Jakey” you whine, feeling silly trying to scold him. Especially because his eyes are trained on your boobs when you talk to him. It makes you giggle when he mindlessly hums out in acknowledgment. “D’ya forget my eyes are up here?” Your voice is gentle despite the heat building in your tummy.

“You say something hun?” He says, and you have no time to think about it if was a joke or not because he’s hardly done talking before his he is taking a nipple into his mouth. His eyes roll back as he feels you keen into him, as if he hasn’t spent the last thirty minutes mouthing at the skin on your neck. But spending so much time apart is hard. It’s so hard. He talks to you on the phone every night, texts you all day long, jerks off to the thought of you at least once every day, and maybe all that pining makes his dick grow fonder because having you in his lap is so much better than whatever image his mind could conjure up.

Maybe your nipples aren’t even all that sensitive, but the way that he licks, and sucks, and bites, and pinches… fuck it would take a lot less to make you moan the way you are now. His eyes flutter closed as he hums against your tit, and his hands greedily run up and down your back. Occasionally, he detours when he reaches the bottom, taking your ass into his hands and spreading you so he can slot the bulge in his pants between your cheeks. The dry friction of your panties and his shorts somehow makes this feel so lewd. I mean fuck he’s literally drooling, a hot line of spit slowly searing its way down your stomach.

“Fuck I missed you baby. Missed the way you taste, missed your soft skin, missed the way you moan so sweet for me. You feel that? Feel how hard I am for you. You are the only person that could ever make me feel like this.” His coos and babbling is endless, already pussy drunk, already leaking a downright obscene amount of tacky precum and making a mess of his boxers, and he hasn’t even undressed you properly. It’s all so hot you can’t help but desperately grasp the cropped hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. He’s practically suffocating in your chest, but still he gazes up at you, unfocused eyes and a dopey grin, and god. Your hips grind down with extra intent.

He coos at you before he’s moving to lay you back. It’s a twin xl, but he has really tried to make this as comfortable as possible for you. He swapped out his single, flat pillow for three memory foam ones after you laughed at his set up the first time you visited. It makes a perfect backrest as he lays you out like feast. And as he sits back onto his calves, his gaze is so intense that it leaves you blushing despite being in this position many times before. It makes you nervous; the way your sweet and dorky boyfriend now looks so intense. Not even the Lego sets on the shelf you catch a view of just over his shoulder distracts you from how hot he looks.

His hair has grown out since the last time you saw him. FaceTime didn’t do him justice. Now, it nearly obscures his eyes and comes to a soft curl at his ear. You resist the urge to sit up and tuck it away, instead you grip at the white and blue striped comforter beneath you.

“Hey,” his voice cuts through the air and his hand falls to rest on your hip, thumbing the elastic band of your panties. “You okay? Lost you there for a second.”

His smile reminds you that this is still Jake. He looks just a little more mature, a little more buff but it’s still Jake. You nod a bit, reaching down to interlace your fingers with his. It was only 3 months you had spent apart, but right now, it feels as if it has been so long you are laying bare beneath him for the first time.

“Yeah just…” you shrug. He squeezes your hand. “It’s been a while”.

His smile fades a bit, a small frown coming across his face. “Yeah…” he says, confusion lacing his tone.

There is a beat of silence, “I like… I don’t know. You look different. Hotter.”you clarify before he draws an incorrect conclusion. There is some slack as his grip on your hand loosens and you are quick to tighten your own hold. “Like so hot I’m nervous” you admit easily, though your laugh as some strain behind it.

His frown deepens, “Do you wanna stop? You know I would never be upset about that.” His head tilts to the side, the same way it does when you guys study together on a call and a problem set stumps him.

“No I don’t think so…” you start slowly “unless you want to!” quickly follows, and just as fast he is shaking his head ‘no’. His dick hasn’t flagged once in the last hour.

“Okay” he drawls out, “if you aren’t sure then why don’t we stop for a second? We can just cuddle for a bit and talk until your nerves are calmed down. And if you want to fuck later, we fuck later.” There is a gentle smile on his face that feels like home, even as your heartbeat hammers in fear of disappointing him.

“It’s our first night together in months though…” you trail off, your voice is quiet and your free hand reaches for the plushie jammed between the wall and his bed absentmindedly in search of comfort.

He picks up your leg and swings it to the other side of his body so he is no longer trapped between your thighs, letting go of your hand only briefly as he lays down next to you. His head is propped up in his hand as the other caresses your stomach “I know… and I want you, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not putting my dick in you until your mind is in the right place”

You nod, as your eyes flutter closed “yeah… yeah. I just got a little overwhelmed, I think. It feels silly, like I’ve seen you jerk off over FaceTime about a thousand times, but actually seeing you… touching you… it was so much more intense.”

He looks over your face, heart skipping a beat as he recognizes the vulnerability you are showing, and then aching as he registers the sheepish tone in your voice. “If this means anything… I was really nervous about tonight too.” You open your eyes to see his crooked smile.

“Really?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He nods.

“Y/n, I went with Sunoo to get my dick waxed.” He says flatly, knowing it will make you laugh. It does.

“Oh? I didn’t mind your pubes.” You say honestly, although, it is through giggles. He smiles big, showing all his teeth and giggles with you. He reaches down to tug his waistband down a bit, and now that you are looking, his happy trail is gone and the sliver of skin you can see just under his hipbones is bare.

“I know you didn’t, pervert.” He teases. You make an affronted noise and smack his chest lightly. “I just got in my head about how this had to be really good sex. Like out of a romance novel, mind blowing, reunion sex. I started thinking about… if you would like how I looked and I got a little carried away.” He blushes but doesn’t look away from you.

“Jakey…” you turn to face him “you know I don’t care about stuff like that. Just being with you again is enough.”

He nods as if to say ‘exactly!’ And your mouth hangs open in understanding. “Oh.” you say, eloquently.

“I just want you.“ he says, bottom lip pulling into a pout and the corners of his lips tug upwards the way they do right before he breaks into a shit-eating grin, knowing his weird waxing story would make you understand.

“Stop looking at me like that!” You laugh. He wiggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated display of lust. You let out a grown of faux exasperation as he rolls you onto your back and kisses his way up your neck to your lips. You exchange a few slow kisses, smiling against his lips as he grips under your thigh to ruck your leg up against his waist.

“You’re so sexy it kills me. Even if we don’t fuck tonight, know that I find you irresistible” he whispers against the shell of your ear, grinning as you giggle and shy away from his ticklish breath.

“Such a sap” it’s a cheap deflection, but he pulls back to grin down at you and you smile back, reaching up to cup the back of his head before pulling him into a series of short kisses.

You squeal as he flips the both of you over, now having you straddling his lap, just as you guys started. Something sweet settles low in your stomach, a gentle and pleasant weight that grounds you. Reminds you. This is still your Jakey.

A/n: reunion… hah… get it… because I’m back and reunited with you guys. Realistic and awkward smut scenes make me smile. That’s all byyyee come say hi to me in my requests :p xx - princess

taglist: @criminalyun @jungwon-wife @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (message me to be added)

[metiredlr]

THIS is the exact moment Endou rizzed them both up

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Limerence (Prequel)

Yandere Rebellion Leader x Princess Reader

TW: Yandere behaviors, mentions of past SA (on yandere’s part), murder, death, blood, a man slaughtering your entire family to be with you, etc

(Your name) quietly sobbed into her knees, her body curled tightly into a ball on the floor of her closet. The loud screams of the servants ring out through the hallways. Not a single doubt in her mind that the castle staff were being slain like cattle by the rebel troops.

When did everything go wrong? Would she soon join the rest of the castle’s inhabitants when the troops inevitably found her? Would they be merciful or would they gut her like a fish?

(Your name) didn’t want to think about it too much… she just hoped her death would be quick and painless.

Crack! Slam! Her door was splintered apart with brute force that made the closet doors shake. (Your name) quickly covered her mouth before she screamed out in fear. She didn’t want to alert the intruder of her whereabouts…

(Your name)’s breath hitched when she spotted a pair of leather shoes that stood outside the closet door through the crack of the door. Oh god… this was it.

(Your name)’s arms flew up to shield her face but strong hands quickly moved her arms out of the way so soft lips could be lovingly pressed against her soft cheeks.

“It’s okay… it’s me.” A smooth voice hummed softly while he continued to pepper (your name)’s face in kisses. “It’s Adonis.”

(Your name) reluctantly peeked her eyes open to see if his words rang true. Adonis’s chocolate curls were wild and his sea foam green eyes were filled with admiration. This was indeed her handsome childhood friend who stood before her.

“A-Adonis?” (Your name)’s brow furrowed in confusion. Why on earth was her stepmother’s personal servant here and why did he press kisses all over her like she was his lover? Didn’t he belong to her stepmother?

Adonis hummed in reply, his actions failed to cease while his hands now cupped her cheeks. “Yes, darling. It’s me… I’m here to get you out of here.”

(Your name) was shocked to be pulled into a warm embrace. Adonis’s muscular body did little to soothe her nerves, quite contrary. Adonis’s hug felt like a cage.

“Where’s my stepmother-“ (your name) nearly squealed when Adonis nipped at her neck. An angry red mark now visible on her smooth skin. “Adonis, what was that for-“

“She’s not in the picture anymore.” Adonis inhaled deeply to try to calm himself before he lashed out any further from the mention of his despicable mistress. “She interfered in our relationship for far too long.”

Relationship? What was Adonis talking about?

“Adonis?” (Your name) then noticed the speckles of blood that covered his tan face in shock. Blood?! Adonis wasn’t bleeding so whose blood could that be… no. Did this mean Adonis betrayed the royal family?

No… Adonis had been with her family for over a decade. They grew up together! Adonis and her were always such good friends! So why would he slaughter her family in the name of love?

“I love when you say my name, darling.” Adonis bent down and pressed his full lips against yours in a tender peck. “We no longer have to worry about what others think. I abolished this unfair system.”

(Your name) felt tears run down her face as Adonis continued to ramble. His sea foam green eyes lit up with madness. “We don’t have to sneak around anymore! You and I can finally be together, the way we were always meant to be.”

Realization sunk into (your name) at Adonis’s words. Did he mean the moments the two of them would run into each other in the rose garden at night? The nights where she’d have nightmares of fire and death while he would be slipping out of her stepmother’s chambers? The times she’d sit beside him on the bench and listen to each other’s woes? Adonis and (your name) always had a friendship since they were children… to think he interpreted her kindness for love was astounding. What on earth made him think she loved him?

“I’m so happy to finally be free. I no longer have to touch that vile woman ever again.” Adonis gave you a bright smile. “You were my shining light through this entire ordeal of my servitude. Without you, I’d be so lost.”

Adonis pulled her towards the window of her tower to gesture to the various fires set ablaze on the castle she once called home. The same scenery she often saw in her nightmares have become a reality.

“I destroyed it all. You’ll no longer have nightmares and I’ll no longer have to be intimate with our enemy!” Adonis gave you a bright smile when he took your smaller hands in his large ones. “This is the biggest gesture I can give you to express my utmost feelings to you. I’d set the whole world ablaze if they opposed us. It doesn’t matter the extreme, because I’m willing to go to any length to be with you.”

[streetlight11]

Love You For Eternity

Summary: Having a best friend is one of the best things in life. For you, it was him. He was your best friend, your partner in crime, your shoulder to cry on, your happiness, your soulmate, your eternity, your absolute everything...

Theme: childhood friends au, best friends to lovers

Genre: very fluffy

Warnings: mentions of being cheated on

WC: 3.4k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! I was listening to Chan's recent SKZ RECORD 'Eternity' and the lyrics is so sweet that I got the inspiration to write this. I hope you enjoy this fic and let me know if there's any mistakes or things need to be improved! Enjoy ✨

There’s a popular phrase which most people could relate to and it goes like so; ‘People often come and go in your life, but the right ones will always stay’.

Throughout your whole life, you’ve had many friends. But at the end of the day, not many stayed. You can literally count with your fingers the amount of friends you had left who were the really close ones. And of all the close friends you had left, one of them meant the world to you. Nobody could ever replace him and nobody could ever make you feel the way he does.

You met him back in kindergarten when you were both at the age of 5. You were in the second form class, he was in the first form class. Everyday, you would only see him during play time because that is where both your classes would be brought to the playroom a few doors down from your classroom for an hour. Usually, you never liked to mingle or make new friends outside of your class simply because you’re a timid little girl. However, on that one unfortunate day is when you first interacted with him.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, where your teachers were preparing to bring you to the playroom. You were partnered with your best friend Mikayla for the short walk. When you made it to the playroom, the students from the other class were already there which means your class made it there just a tad later than them. Once you were all given the permission to go inside and play around for an hour, you began to head towards the slide with Mikayla. At one point, you were playing catch with her when you accidentally slipped and fell.

Hitting your chin onto the foam mat with a strong impact which left you crying. Not long after, a teacher came and carefully brought you to the side as she then hugged you to calm you down. She was sitting on the ground with you in her lap, burying your face in her shoulder while you cried. She rubbed your back soothingly as she said comforting words to you. Just then, you felt someone gently pat your head so you lifted your head up. That’s when you locked eyes with a boy with sparkly eyes. He looked concerned but then he smiled at you.

You held eye contact with him for a while as he gently patted your back to comfort you. Your teacher then asked if you had any injuries, she checked your mouth to see if you accidentally chipped a tooth or bit your lip or what not but it seemed like none of that happened. So she told you to sit here and rest if you wanted to, in which you agreed.

She got up to monitor the other kids while you sat there wiping your tears away. The boy from earlier sat down next to you as he flashes you an adorable smile.

“Is it still painful?” He asked.

“A little.” You quietly said and he nodded.

“My name is Chris. What is your name?”

“My name is Y/N.”

“Let’s be friends.” He said so you smiled. And that was the start of your friendship with him.

As the years go by, you went to the same schools which you also ended up being classmates through the entire years of school. Chris had many friends growing up but some of them come and go. On the other hand, you are never going anywhere and he won’t let you. The sad thing was, on the day of your high school graduation, he told you that he was leaving the country to go study in an overseas college which you dreaded so much.

You and Chris were like two peas in a pod.

Wherever one goes, the other will follow.

So to hear that he would be thousands of miles away, made you feel sad and uneasy. He told you that he will keep in touch with you every single day as if he never left but deep down, you knew it felt different.

Nevertheless, you weren’t going to stop him from going just because you want him close to you all the time. Which is why when he was supposed to leave, you sent him off at the airport together with your family and his. You promised him that you will look after his parents, Hannah, Lucas and Berry while he’s gone which he very much appreciates. After he had entered the departure hall and had gone further in, you sighed as his mother came over to give you a warm hug. She comforts you telling you that it was okay. You thanked her genuinely, only for Hannah to speak up.

“Since my older brother’s gone now, does that mean you’re my new older sister to replace him?” She asks cheekily, making you laugh.

“I’d love to.” You said as they all laughed.

Years soon went by and you were happy in college. Although you do still keep in contact with Chris every week, it wasn’t a secret that you miss him harder with every day that passes by.

Despite him being miles and miles away, you still keep him updated about almost everything that’s going on in your life. From school to friends to activities and even to dating and hookups. He would also tell you things that are happening in his life whenever you would facetime or even through texts. It’s interesting to hear how similar yet also different your lives were in both countries.

It’s been 4 years since you last saw him in person and today was the day you would be graduating from college. Your parents came down for your graduation ceremony as guests with the tickets you got for them so that they could enter the hall. The whole ceremony went perfectly as you collected your certificate on stage without embarrassing yourself. After the whole ceremony was over, it was time to leave the hall either for the buffet, for photo taking with your family and friends or to head home.

You met up with your family as they brought you to a corner where it wasn’t too crowded. Some of your friends came down to give you flowers and celebrate your graduation together which was really sweet. You were just taking pictures with your best friend as your younger brother was your photographer when someone tapped your shoulder. You turned around thinking it was a random student or a stranger but you were wrong. As soon as you turn around, your smile drops and you freeze from an immense amount of shock.

Standing in front of you now was Chris.

Who was wearing a white button down shirt, denim jeans and a pair of sneakers. He grins at you whilst holding a bouquet of your favourite blue roses with baby's breath flowers around it.

“Hey.” He chuckles adorably and you seem to have lost your words.

“Is it really you?” You asked in denial, making him laugh.

“Do you wanna check if I’m real?” He laughs again. This time, you bent down to put everything down on the ground before throwing yourself on him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders while you buried your face in his neck. Chris laughs at your reaction but still wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You started tearing up and he felt it.

“Oi! Stop crying! You’re gonna ruin your pretty makeup!” Chris teasingly raises his voice at you as he pulls away. Everyone around you laughed at how funny and cute you were. Chris then took the tissue that your mother held for him to take as he wipes your tears away.

After a few more minutes, you finally took pictures with him for memories of your graduation. Once everything was settled, you thanked your friends for coming and they congratulated you once again before leaving. Meanwhile, Chris stayed upon getting an invite from your parents to go grab some dinner with your family which he agreed to. As you all began to walk out of the place, you walked with Chris behind your family. You turned to get a good look at him and he laughed.

“What? You still can’t believe I’m here?” He asks.

“Uh? Duh! You told me you couldn’t come to my graduation because of your own graduation!” You scolded him as you gently punched his arm.

“Well obviously I had to lie? I didn’t wanna ruin my surprise!” He said casually, earning a scoff from you.

“Kudos to you for pulling it off then.” You smiled at him as he ruffled your hair playfully. Dinner was nice and he told your family about his plans now that he’s graduated college. He said that he’ll be moving back here in a month's time and so you got happy.

And that was exactly what he did.

As each year went by, your friendship with Chris kept growing stronger and stronger now that he’s physically back here with you. Every guy you went on a date with, could never reach your expectations simply because of how high your best friend has set the bar for you. From a certain perspective, it might seem ridiculous and overrated. But on some perspective, it was set on a level where you realised that that is how you deserve to be treated. With the past dates and failed relationships you’ve had over the last decade, it made you realise how low and shitty those guys have ever made you feel.

It even got to a point where you were giving up on finding someone who could barely treat you right. Until that one night where you came to Chris’ apartment door crying after your boyfriend of 2 years broke up with you when you found him cheating on you.

He didn’t expect to see you there but he knew you needed him at that moment. So instead of letting you cry and calm down on your own, he brought you to his room and led you to his bed. He laid with you in bed, his blanket covering both your bodies as you cried onto his chest and he comfortingly caressed your head. You took at least 10 minutes to finally stop crying and calm down but he was so patient with you. Ever since then, you stopped going on dates to avoid getting your heart broken again. And all this time, Chris was right there next to you.

It’s been months since your break up and you’ve healed from it, not to mention moved on.

It was a Friday evening and Chris asked if you wanted to hang out at his place. You agreed easily to it considering he was your best friend.

When you arrived at his apartment, he greeted you at the door with just a cosy pair of sweatpants. You’ve seen him shirtless a couple times so it’s pretty normal for you by now. The only problem is, you find it harder and harder to keep your emotions hidden every single time mainly because of how much he’s changed over the years.

Mind you, this was the same Christopher who comforted you when you fell on your chin in preschool. So when he caught you glancing down at his abs briefly, he smirked teasingly whilst saying, “Do you like what you see?”

“Ew! Shut up!” You laughed, shoving his shoulders lightly and he chuckled.

“Oh what? You’re shy now?” He asked teasingly which made you scowl at him.

“Christopher Bahng, I swear-”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll stop.” He says with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes at him but the smile growing on your face, quickly betrayed you.

You hung out with him that night, quickly losing track of time even though you weren’t really doing anything significant other than watching movies, chatting, gossiping and snacking. It was already a quarter past midnight but you weren’t planning to head home anytime soon. He was sitting next to you, scrolling through the movies on netflix when an idea struck you.

“Hey, are you tired?” You asked.

“Nope. Why?” Chris asks without turning to you.

“Wanna go for a little walk?” You asked as he finally turned to you with an amused smile on his face.

“You wanna go outside? Where do you wanna go though?” He asks.

“I don’t know.”

The room fell silent as you both thought of a place to go. Just then, he suggests something.

“How about we’ll drive around and see where that leads us. Then we’ll stop somewhere nice where we can chill?”

“Sounds good. What time shall we go?”

“Do you wanna go now or a little later?” He looks at you softly, melting you in your seat.

“Later. When there’s lesser people outside.” You said and he laughed. Nevertheless, he agrees and waits with you.

An hour had passed and you were both preparing to leave. Chris had changed into a white shirt, a black oversized bomber jacket, denim jeans and a pair of sneakers. He also recently dyed his hair to a strawberry brunette colour. He lent you one of his oversized jackets which was too big on you but you loved it. Especially since it’s his but of course you couldn’t tell him that. You zipped it up to just below your chest while one side hangs loosely off your shoulder. Once you were both ready, you left his apartment as he chats with you about random topics.

The drive was basically aimless with no particular destination. After about half an hour of driving, you reached a part of the town which was empty and quiet.

All the street shops were closed and there were no cars on the road aside from the few that were parked along the side. There weren't any drunk or sober humans lingering around the street either, which was great. So he parked at one of the lots before you both left the vehicle.

“We have the whole street to ourselves.” You giggled while he smiled at you.

“What should we do?"

“Let’s capture these moments. I wanna be able to look back on it on days when I feel down or empty…” You said as you took your phone out and clicked the camera app.

This was normal to him because you do this every time you hang out with him or go on spontaneous trips like this. You loved to capture random moments like this so you could look back on them for the memories you shared with him.

You turned on the front camera video and clicked the record button before setting it up against one of the shop’s window ledges to work as a phone stand. Once it was standing securely, you turned to see him standing a few feet behind you with his hand tucked in his hoodie pockets. Chris was just staring at you quietly with a fond smile on his face. Since he didn’t seem like he was gonna move anytime soon, you giggled as you leaped forward. He opened his arms just in time to catch you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while he hugged your waist. He laughed at you, saying you’re funny in which you thanked him. Just then, he suggested a challenge.

You will both go to the end of the street where the traffic light is and you will both have to run towards the phone. You easily agreed to it and he was excited. When you made it to the end of the street and you could sort of see yourself on your phone screen, you turned to him to ask a few more questions.

“Loser has to do what?” You asked.

“The loser has to eat a whole bowl of spicy noodles.”

“Damn, you make me wanna lose although I hate spicy food.” Just then, he tapped your shoulder and quickly took off running.

“Race you there!” He sprints down the pathway, leaving you behind.

“Hey! You cheated!” You screamed in between laughs but soon sprinted down.

You tried to catch up to him as best as you could. Once you managed to run past him, Chris laughed. You were just a few metres away from the finish line when he grabbed your jacket to pull you back. This caused you to stumble back, only to crash into his chest while he back hugs you.

Both your laughters echoed around the empty street, feeling him wrap his arms securely around you.

“Christopher! Let go!” You giggled but he refused to let go of you.

"No. That way no one loses.” You laughed in his arms feeling him bury his face in your neck, smiling against your skin. He then guided you towards his car before he leaned against the door.

You took this chance to turn around and face him. When you did, Chris still had his hands on your waist while you gently slid your hands up his chest to rest your wrists on top of his shoulders. Neither of you talked but the atmosphere seemed warm and cosy between the two of you.

You then caught his eyes glancing down at your lips. This made the butterflies in your stomach erupt. Chris then looks back up into your eyes and his lips curled into a soft smile.

“I’m never letting go.”

“We can’t stay out here all night, Chris.” You giggled, only for him to shake his head. You get confused, tilting your head to the side slightly and he chuckles.

So he explained to you, “I’ve known you ever since the day when we were kids. Nothing in the world could beat our little special bond. Every moment with you is a precious memory and I’m lucky that you’re my best friend… So, I’m never letting you go…” Chris says with so much fondness in his voice that it makes you melt against his arms.

You smiled at him, feeling like your heart was fluttering in your chest.

“Chris…” His name slips past your tongue in a whisper which he heard loud and clear. Your hands were now resting on his stomach while he reached up to hold your face with both his hands gently. He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, never breaking eye contact with you.

Without any words exchanged, he carefully leans his head forward slowly to see if you would pull away. When he was just an inch away and he realises that you weren’t pulling away, Chris finally closes the gap fully.

He gently kisses on you the lips, feeling his soft lips touch yours.

You wrap your hands around his waist as you feel his lips curl into a smile against yours.

After a few seconds, you pulled back for a breath but kept his face close to yours. His lips hovered over yours as he kissed you again. You giggled into the kiss, earning a smile from him when he pulled away.

“What?” He asks but you gently pat your hands against his chest while he drops his hands to your waist.

“Nothing. You’re just so adorable…” You said, making him blush.

“I love you, Y/N… I love you for eternity.” Chris says, making you hug him.

You felt him wrap his arms around your waist securely, making you feel safe.

“I love you for eternity too, Chris.” You whispered against his shoulder. You then felt him kiss your neck before you pulled away to look at his face. He was smiling softly at you as you took this chance to kiss him again. A couple of seconds later, he whispers over your lips, “Let’s get your phone and head back home.” You nodded and did as he said.

Once you took your phone back, you both went in the car and he drove you back to his place.

The drive back home was filled with a peaceful silence as you tangled your fingers together with his hand in your lap. When you made it back to his apartment, you both took warm showers separately before changing into his comfortable clothes for sleeping. You climbed into bed next to him, only for Chris to pull you in. You laid your head on his chest while one of your legs rested in between his. He hugs you close, making sure you are safe in his arms. Right before you fall asleep, Chris reaches up to tilt your chin up using his fingers and soon kisses your lips softly.

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight… I love you…” You whispered tiredly as he smiled down at you before kissing you again.

“I love you more.” His gentle voice says and soon, you both fell asleep.

[delightfultheoristfox]

In your eyes I saw a longing, while I longed to lift you up

John 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader

Again, crossposting this from AO3.

I'm currently dedicating time to my master's thesis, my English is so clinical and soulless I can only offer things written when life had meaning LMAO Uni's been sucking the will to live out of me with a little straw

The title is long as hell, I apologize (but it's from AURORA's "Conflict of the mind" so it's all good, because we all love Aurora).

18+

CW: smut, tiny angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, deals with medical topics, recovery from injury, mention of depression and struggles related to recovery, cuddles. LOTS OF CUDDLES.

Masterlist 🦊 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Not Johnny.

One hundred and eighty-four days.

One hundred and eighty-four days since Johnny got a bullet in his head. Six months since you saw him flatten against concrete. No lights if not those of the torch tucked in your tac vest.

One hundred and eighty-four days since your own heart stopped beating. More than four thousand hours since the moment you snarled – bellowed. Voice raucous and loud echoing in the tunnel. Raw fire burning your tongue all the way to your fingertips; those that curled around the trigger of your gun.

Makarov on the floor with a hole in his forehead. Mouth-gaped, exhaling his last breaths, mouthing like a fish out of water. Cross-eyed. His lids fluttered, shaking. Pathetic.

Not Johnny.

One hundred and eighty-four days since you pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. And again. To his chest. To his face. To his legs, groin, shoulder.

Since Price hastily got up from where he’d been thrown and grabbed you from behind. Burly arms around your waist lifting you off the ground. Your gun still shooting, bullets now hitting the cinderblock of the walls. The trigger clicked empty, but you still pressed it – autopilot.

The roar that echoed scratched your throat, made you choke. You spluttered and coughed. Tears and spit, foaming at the mouth. A rabid dog. 

Not Johnny.

More gunshots echoed, but they didn’t come from your weapon. Price dropped you, your knees knocked against the floor. Helpless, you folded. You draped your body over Johnny’s. Forehead to his chest, arms limp next to his face – fingers grabbing at his cheeks, enough to indent the skin. Blindly skimming through his features, feeling the slick blood carve its path through the tiny folds in your fingerprints.

Senses dull. Not Johnny.

Cotton in your ears. Each explosion from the guns was nothing more than a muffled thud. Bullets flew past you. Bullets hit you. You felt the familiar blinding pain of mangled flesh in your left arm. It caused your body to flop further – a ragdoll. It burned, yet it was nothing compared to the agony currently disemboweling you.

You were gutted. Much like a knife piercing flesh. Cutting its way through layers of skin, muscle, and fat. Intestines pouring out, blood and water and bile mixing on the floor – cocktail of death. Not yours. Johnny's.

Not Johnny.

He heard. His chest rose under the weight of your head, and life was breathed into you again.

───────────

It was absolutely mind-boggling to you how he’d survived. You saw it; you saw Makarov pull the trigger. You saw the bullet pierce his skull. You saw him crumple on the cement in that underground tunnel. You felt the blood on your hands. You felt how slick it made his skin.

But apparently, it wasn't enough to snatch the life out of him. 

And as you spent the following days sleeping uncomfortably, curled on one of the chairs in the waiting room of the army hospital, doctors came and went to talk to Price. 

Or to Johnny’s ma.  

She’d flown all the way from Glasgow to Hereford in the blink of an eye, bringing with her a goddamn squadronof MacTavishes. Four sisters with his blue eyes, and his dark hair. All of varying ages. Even a little one, half of yours. Her long hair was in a plait that swung behind her back. You watched it – transfixed. Too catatonic and dazed to care that you might have looked like a right weirdo – staring at a kid like that.

But she was the one who looked like him the most. Maybe it was in the tilt of her chin. In the shape of her eyes. In the slight fold of the tips of her ears – God, you weren’t looking like one, you were a proper weirdo. 

Her braid swung like a pendulum, marking the time you spent apart from him.

A guarded prognosis meant that no one aside from close relatives could enter the room. Family only - and the leader of Johnny’s unit. So, you spent your days of medical leave with your ass on those plastic chairs that were made for short sitting sessions, looking at a platoon of women going in with flowers and chocolates and leaving with tears and bloodied gauzes.

Your arm was wrapped in a bandage of its own, the muscle torn at the bicep. The pain was dull, much like the goddamn sight of you. Or the smell, which you reckoned mustn’t have been the most pleasant whiff to catch with one’s nostrils.

Price took pity on you because he knew. He acted like he didn’t for the sake of his team, but he knew. And he conveyed his awareness with lingering, judgmental glances he gave you and Johnny when the Scot let his hand travel a little too low on your back.

You watched them all from afar, perking your ears to catch any news the doctors told Johnny’s family or your Captain. Clawing at the walls for some information. You’d give your right kidney to know something more aside from the sparse words Price told you out of sympathy.

And then, out of nowhere, after tortuously long days spent with stomach and heart utterly empty, a nurse came to you.

She tapped your shoulder and you flinched. Bloodshot eyes swiveled to land on her face. She looked down at you apprehensively, knowing she’d have to tread lightly. A cornered animal, you were. Pitiful thing.

She called your name, and you blinked.

“The lady there said you’ve been here a while,” she spoke oddly soft and yet respectful. Must’ve spotted the pips on the epaulets of your uniform jacket, the one currently draped over you like a blanket.

Your eyes were unfocused and blinky. Lashes fluttering to swipe away the fatigue – a broom against dust. Looking around made your neck tingle, muscles corded, but you did. Your pupils locked with bright blue ones at the other end of the hallway.

Johnny’s ma waved.

Your brain rewired itself from its slumber and you sat upright. Your shoulders popped as you pulled them back at attention. Legs uncurled from where they were tucked underneath your weight, finally stretching out. Palms to your knees. Your jacket fell to the floor, you didn’t mind it.

“She wants to know if she can talk to you,” the nurse prompted.

You nodded eagerly, probably looking a little too desperate. Your leg bounced in anticipation and anxiety, tiny needles piercing the muscle as it awakened.

Gingerly, his mum walked to you. She sat right in the chair at your side. It took nothing but a look for her to understand: the crust in your lashes from the tears you’ve shed, the bandage around your arm gone from white to yellow with a splotch of brown in the middle. Dried blood and pus. The wound festering beneath it.

She hugged you. She didn’t care if you hadn’t washed in days. If your injury was probably infected, or at least smelled as such. You curled your fingers into fists against her back, and you cried.

She did, too.

𓇬

You understood that Johnny took his fire straight from his ma because she was currently bullying the doctor who had been preventing your entrance into her son’s room.

You stood almost embarrassed next to her, feeling like her child yourself.

She had forced you to wash, after all. Took you to one of the washrooms and helped you out of your clothes. Stroked your skin with a sponge when she noticed the weakness of your movements. Washed away the suds with the showerhead. Dried your hair and braided it.

You’d have felt pathetic if she weren’t there, constantly telling you it was alright. You'd have felt guilty that you became an additional burden to her if she weren't continuously whispering that “whoever loves my Johnny like you do, ‘s mine to care for.”

You took a few steps back the more she argued with the doctor, trying to flee from that predicament. Maybe you’d be lucky enough to peer through the cracked door and spot Johnny’s face now that both surgeon and nurse were busy trying to tame (fruitlessly, they’d learn) Mrs. MacTavish.

However, your back hit something. You lifted your arms, elbows out to create more space around you.

You looked behind and clocked a girl, and her braid. She was slightly shorter than you, about fifteen. The resemblance with her brother was so striking it caused your breath to hitch.

She looked at you with caution. Assessed you like antiques at an auction. Whether you were worthy of her brother’s affection, or not. And you found yourself thinking you’ve never wanted someone’s approval more than you did at that moment.

It was a game of stares that she was clearly winning.

Comical, really. How your skin had bled because of bullets tearing it apart. Knives had ripped crimson gashes on your flesh. Bombs had gone off in your vicinity. You’ve killed. You’ve seen death and brought it, too – a harbinger.

Yet now you stood stock still in front of a teenager. Eyes locked with the depth of the azure sea hers bore. Frozen in place with your elbows still out and your hands hovering between you two.

It was silent for what felt like hours when in truth only mere, tense minutes had passed. The only sound that of Johnny’s ma giving an earful to the doctor and a very tired nurse.

Your lips parted on their own accord then, and your voice came out wet and strained. “You’re so much like him.”

That girl had tried to crack open your skull with the sheer force of her eyes and somehow managed. Then snuck her fingers in the hollow of your stomach and curled them around the handles of your ribs only to rip them open and take a gander at the battered thing that was your heart.

What she said next made your chest clench to the point of pain. Your heart stomped against the hard bone of your rib cage. Her voice was heavily accented yet softer than her brother's. The meaning behind her words was different from the ones you uttered. They went deeper than mere physical appearance.

The thought that she might have seen something in you that even remotely reminded her of him made your heart ache - feeling undeserving of it.

“You are, too.”

───────────

One hundred and eighty-four days since the incident, you could’ve gotten a goddamn medical degree. You took a long compassionate leave to stay by his side, hastily apologizing to doctors and PTs alike for his behavior because during that time, when they’d show up at your doorstep, he’d bark like a dog for them to leave.

For one-hundred and eighty-four days, the moment he fell asleep, you’d bury your head in medical manuals and books. You had his physical therapist explain to you step by step all the exercises he’d have to do for his limbs, so he’d regain strength and mobility.

The massages. The oils. The meds. How to put an IV in. How to change the bandages of his bedsores. You helped him shower. You helped him dress. You did his beard or his hair, and while he pushed for it to be a bland buzzcut or just let it grow, you always let the airstrip at the center stay – gelling it up sometimes, for good fun.

When you’d place a kiss against his buzzed side, next to the healing scar, he’d find himself giving in more and more. His back would soften against your chest, fingers curling at your forearms wrapped around his front.

By the one hundred and eighty-fourth day since the incident, Johnny still barked like a dog at whoever dared to walk in his flat that wasn’t you or a member of his family. But at least now the rest of the lads had their privileges.

At least now he let you sleep on your side of the bed – sometimes daring to curl his arm around your waist so you’d scoot over to his.

At least now he kissed you again and brushed his fingers along your cheek, or through your hair.

His strength came back at a languid pace, but his hands didn’t tremble anymore when he held a fork, so now he could eat by himself. He could lift small weights, but still couldn’t sit up on his own. That was the next achievement you both were aiming at.

His personality now shone through the fractures of the shell he'd locked himself into. The cheeky grin slowly came back like molten gold mending the fissures. That glint in his eyes - a reminder that he was alive.

You already knew it, but he didn’t – and now, he was on his way to finally realize it.

On the morning of that day, Johnny was lying in bed as you’d just finished helping him wear a pair of grey sweatpants. Your back was to him while you folded clean laundry.

He watched like a hawk each movement you made, no matter how mundane and trivial. Shame and resentment still had a tight grip on his heart, withered his soul, but the sight of you – simply there – was enough to make those feelings hush.

“Can’t believe you bloody stayed.”

You stilled in your motions, and only resumed a moment later, setting down the laundry back in the basket. Then, in your sweats and one of his t-shirts, you moved towards the bed. Sat at the edge. Lingered there for a moment as you took him in.

He was thinner. However, against all medical logic, his muscles were still there. Definitely less bulging, definitely much less defined, but there. Apparently, it takes a lot more to wear down John fucking MacTavish. However, you’d have to give credit where credit is due, and your relentless insistence in forcing him to do all the exercises as the PT instructed you, even when Johnny all but cursed at you, might have helped his muscles keep their tone.

You lay down in bed next to him, propped on your elbow with your cheek in your palm. You placed your free hand over his chest, his strong heartbeat at your fingertips.

"'cause you're too hot to drop, eh?" You quipped.

He tried to keep up with your joking mood, his lips curving into that trademark smirk he used to don so effortlessly. Differently from before, when life seemed to flow smoothly, it was short-lived. And while his heart felt like it was being torn apart, he lifted his arm and slung it around your waist, bringing you close.

You snuggled in his side for good measure. One leg of yours was draped over his two, palm still flat on his chest, and now your head lay there as well. While he’d almost returned to his usual self, these moments in which he allowed you to touch him were always sparse and rare. You’d take your fix whenever you could.

His chest still felt tight at the sight of you huddling against him. “Why do ye love me?”

His voice rumbled in his ribcage, echoing in your ear pressed against his pectorals. It perfectly scratched an itch in the back of your brain, almost giving you gooseflesh.

"Because you're pure dead brilliant.” You replied quietly, drawing shapes over the fabric of his tee, "You make me laugh, you make me happy."

Absently, you smiled – memories of your relationship even before it bloomed into love came running in front of your eyes. He could only see the top of your head, but he felt the way your cheek lifted against the cotton, somewhat scrunching the fabric.

"Can't imagine a life without you, honestly.” You lifted your head from his chest and placed a chaste kiss over it. Your shoulders shrugged, the answer being simple. "You're my Johnny."

As much as your words served as a balm to his wounds, he felt as if you were describing someone else. Attributes he was undeserving of – ones that described the man he might have been once but didn’t feel like anymore.

His hand lightly gripped your hip. All he could do was tilt his head down and plant a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger a tad longer. Savoring your skin and the salt of it.

“’m the luckiest man alive,” he mumbled. The press of his mouth against your flesh slurred his words, but you caught them anyway.

Luckiest for real, you mused but didn't voice it. He didn't need a daily reminder of the sheer miracle his survival had been.

Instead, you only relished the touch of the chapped skin of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed to block out anything else that didn’t involve that tiny, warm feeling.

"My lucky charm,” was all you could muster up to say.

He huffed. The air escaping his nose was warm as it hit the crown of your head. You could tell by the way he tensed that he was hesitant, still mindful when it came to having you close. Insecure, ashamed. But you'd linger there unless he pushed you away – hoping, deep down, he never would again.

In very Johnny’s fashion, he masked his insecurity with a lighthearted joke. “C’mon, inflate my ego a bit more.”

And you did, despite knowing it was all a façade to hide the inner turmoil he’d been brewing constantly ever since. Despite knowing he silently craved your words of reassurance, because maybe, if you repeated them enough, he’d eventually believe them, too.

A chuckle bubbled up your throat. Johnny felt its gentle rumble in his bones, and it stole a smile from him.

“You’re absolutely hilarious – you crack me up,” you continued like he asked, “Sharper wit than mine – which I thoroughly appreciate.”

You leaned your head back, reluctantly pulling your forehead away from his lips, only to be awarded with the blue of his eyes.

“You’re kind and compassionate," you sighed, "You care ‘bout others even when you shouldn’t. That’s noble.”

But then your mouth pursed, because its corners struggled to keep a smile, "You're also absurdly hot, love.”

He scoffed, giving you a look – shallow. But he couldn't deny the way the last comment made his chest puff a little.

It was unbearably hard not to burst out laughing. Difficult to keep the warmth inside, in the face of the familiarity of it all. You cleared your throat, mustering up the most serious expression you could pull at that moment.

“You’re the strongest man I know.”

And just like that, his smile was gone. The dancing flame he lit in your heart, smothered by ice. Johnny, who’d always been the gasoline to your fire, now felt like freezing water.

He shook his head, trying to hide the unease. “My strength is long gone, love.”

And even if your blood was struggling to boil against the ice he instilled, you decide you wouldn’t have that. Not in a thousand years.

Your eyes welled up with tears, as much as you tried to fight it. He sounded so tormented - you craved to take it away from him. Your fingers curled at his jaw, gently. Tilting his head, you forced his eyes to lock with yours – making sure to keep him there, focused on you.

"You, my love," you repeated, voice wavering but filled with resolve, "are the strongest man I've ever met."

Yet your words only fueled the self-hatred. He failed to see the determination in your eyes because the wounds in his brain, both emotional and whatnot, only made him perceive pity.

“I hate this,” he growled. While your fire had been smothered, his only grew. His eyes held defiance and fight, unfortunately against all the wrong things. “I hate this so damn much. I – I struggle to live, darling. I can’t even fucking stand. I’m like a useless sack of sh-”

"None of tha'." You interrupted him. This time, you sounded angry.

Hell, you understood. You were a special forces operator, too. You were in his same team. You fucking got it. The pain, the worthlessness after having been fully independent and, at least on his part, generously strong for most of his adult life.

But you weren't having it.

Your fingers held his face in place, curled at his cheeks. Not too tight, always gentle and mindful of his head injury, but firm enough to indent in the plush of his skin.

"You are Sergeant John – fucking Soap - MacTavish." You stated firmly, and while your eyes were glossy, your voice didn't hesitate this time. "You are a sniper and demolitions specialist. The best out there."

Your pupils sailed the storm in his eyes with unparalleled skill. "You've survived a gunshot to the head. You fought to live, and I swear 'ere and now, John, I'll make fucking sure you will."

Johnny found himself fighting a war he couldn’t win. And while he wasn’t used to it, he realized he didn't mind losing. He had been biting each hand that tried to feed him, to nurse him back to health.

Even yours.

He failed to see, however, that you came back each time – mangled fingers, bite marks and all.

He hated being the reason you cried, even if it was for the sheer amount of feelings that had been brewing all at once, threatening to spill over.

Without warning, he put his hands against the mattress and sat up. And because it wasn’t enough for him apparently, he grabbed awestruck-you by the hips, pulling you on top of him –  with no little effort – to straddle his lap. That was the achievement of the week, he thought, and with an exhausted sigh, he flopped with his back against the headboard.

He used to be able to absolutely manhandle you and place you wherever he wanted, once. Now, his chest heaved as a result of barely lifting you an inch. The concept was still hard to grasp for him, but he realized how proud he felt when his eyes landed on yours, when your gasp reached his eardrums.

And he understood, then. He might have thought that he was a useless sack of shit, but you weren’t, and steaming Jesus, he’d do it. For you, he’d take the fucking praise of having lifted a spoon without dropping the stupid golf ball you placed on it. He’d take the kisses you’d pepper his face with each time he’d bend his knee to his chest without your hands helping him fold it.

He’d take that look you were donning right there on his lap, your eyes going from heated to watery. Brows pinched. Mouth-gaped.

He’d take it like a fucking champ, and he’d be proud of it.

"Johnny,” you breathed, steadying yourself with your palms on his shoulder.

The bastard smirked; lips parted as he caught his breath.

He brought his hands up to cup your cheek. His thumb rubbed at your jawline and his fingers threaded through your hair. “How are ye so bloody beautiful, eh?”

You almost melted right then and there.

You huffed. Breathless and shaky. You leaned your cheek against his palm – perfect fit. One could hear the clicking sound it would’ve made as it fell into place.

“Gonna have to cross tha' from our achievements list." You slurred, your words as wobbly as your lips.

He hated your bloody achievements list, but he’d take that one, too.

His voice was raspy. Scratched you in all the right places. “We should put a reward for each one you tick off, mh?”

You blushed.

You did, and you weren't even ashamed of it. How many people could say that their significant other made them flush even after years together? You bet very fucking few.

Because Johnny made your heart stutter like the first time although it had been years you two shared the same bed. Johnny made your chest swell, your cheeks pink, and your panties wet even after he'd seen you naked and bent however he pleased – and he could do that with a very visible craniotomy scar on the side of his head.

You gave him a knowing look, though.

"Just a kiss," you replied, sounding a little too patronizing. Almost as if you were scolding him. "The doc said no sex, Johnny."

Indeed, now he almost looked like a child who just had his favorite new toy snatched away. A feigned pout, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. “Not even a tiny bit?”

He looked utterly gorgeous, even when he acted like this – normally, it would’ve driven you up a wall.

The blue of his irises was now a mere halo around widened, dark pupils. He took a greedy handful of the meaty part of your hip. His other hand journeyed from your jawline to your bum, and he wasn’t parsimonious there either, as he curled his fingers around the plush skin.

"What even is a tiny bit of sex, Johnny?” You huffed. Before he could reply, because you saw that cheek in his eyes, “And for the love of Christ – Don't say just the tip.”

He grinned, caught red-handed.

You fixed him with a blank stare.

And then, you spouted all the knowledge you had acquired during these months while he slept away. You went full medical encyclopedia on him. "Sex increases blood pressure, which might cause weakened blood vessels in your brain to burst, potentially leading to a hemorrhagic stroke. You could -”

Johnny barked a laugh. You ended your lecture by pursing your mouth in a tight line; rolled your lips between your teeth to hide how much the sound of his genuine chuckle had affected your heart.

He absolutely demolished you with a sentence only.

“But I sat up today, sweetheart.”

Your shoulders deflated. Utterly powerless.

He pinched the air between thumb and forefinger in the space between your faces, “Just a glimpse, yeah?”

You scoffed and briefly looked down at the spot where he’d placed you in. All by himself, no help from you whatsoever. You were so fucking proud it made you arrhythmic.

You settled on a glimpse.

Gingerly, you grasped the hem of your (his) tee and pulled it off your head. You tossed it in a vague direction behind you, eyes focused on his. Deft fingers went to unhook your own bra, and you let it fall.

Sitting up on your knees, which gave him a very nice close-up of your breasts (the lad went cross-eyed at the sight), you hooked your fingers at the waistband of your sweatpants. With one motion, you took down both pants and underwear, which pooled at your knees.

You leaned back, sitting on your rear, and pulled them both off your ankles. Much like your sorry t-shirt, they landed somewhere on the bedroom floor.

Planting your feet on each side of his thighs, you kept your knees spread and leaned back on your palms, as if to say There, enjoy.

"Better?"

Johnny’s eyes darkened instantly at the sight before him. You looked wet already for reasons unknown to him. Poor man couldn't grasp the idea that no matter how he looked, he'd always make your heart race and your cunt glisten.

Johnny slowly rubbed the back of his fingers against his lips.

“Better,” you heard him rasp.

You nodded imperceptibly, eyes never leaving his. You raised a hand and drew a map of your body with your finger, tracing a path he’d hopefully follow again, one day.

It started from your mouth, fingertip tugging at your lower lip until it bounced back into place. Then down your chin, down the curve of your throat, traveling in the valley of your breasts.

"You behave, Johnny," you breathed, letting your own hand grab a handful of your breast and squeeze. The fat bulged between the grooves of your fingers.

"Follow PT.” You pulled at your nipple, "Take your meds, do as the doctors say."

Your palm snaked down your belly until it reached your core. You spread your lips for him with your fingers, "And I'll be your first meal after recovery."

Johnny’s eyes followed your hand, hypnotized. He swore his mouth watered and he thought this wasn’t much of a reward as it was torture.

His heart throbbed against his ribs, and his eyes clocked yours once more.

“I’ll behave,” he promised, his voice thick with an unspoken need – and he would.

Johnny decided that he’d take this, too. Fucking hell he would.

Your lips quirked to the side, trying to hide the small smile of delight. The only thing you wanted was for him to get better. Small steps: he had already managed to sit up in bed by himself, so maybe the next step would be to stand up on his own, one day.

Then walk. Then run. Then train at the gym, or take you out for dinner. Fuck you senseless into the mattress. Get on his knees to make a meal out of you. Or get on one knee, holding out a ring.

And by God, if what he needed was a reward – he'd get it. Honestly, if it would help him improve, you'd give it to him every bloody day. You’d bend, break, turn, and fucking dance if he asked. As long as he stayed here, alive.

You were unabashedly wet, so there was barely any friction as you plunged middle and forefinger inside your core. You hissed at the sensation – pleasure and pain. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes closing just briefly.

You should've been embarrassed about the sound your own cunt made when you slid them out, but the way Johnny's eyes widened made you anything but. His hand dropped from his mouth onto his thigh, limp.

Utterly disarmed himself.

Sticky and wet with arousal, you placed your fingers on his lips, gently pushing them inside to rest on his tongue.

"Good man, Johnny," you breathed, your own heart thrumming, "So fucking proud of you.”

Johnny’s chest warmed and his eyes flickered between your own, his tongue automatically coming forward to taste you on your fingers. His cheek hollowed as he sucked, which did absolutely nothing to the already dripping state of you.

You scissored your fingers against his tongue, “Take it.”

His eyes fluttered closed. Sweet and salty, ambrosia on his tastebuds. The tang of you, forever impressed in his mind – a man parched of what he used to drink almost daily and had been denied for months. He thought it had been criminal of you to take it away from him for so long.

And while this totally wasn’t the most appropriate moment to think about it, he realized that you never denied him anything that wasn’t for his own good.

He did it to himself.

Which made him angry. Which prompted his hand to flit up and wrap around your wrist to keep your fingers there, snug in the cavity of his mouth – wishing he could never part from them.

The humming sound of pleasure vibrated through your hand, and you shivered in response. He grunted in a low, husky murmur – words barely muffled by your fingers, “I want my reward, pet.”

Your own eyes were hooded and heavy. He looked perfect, despite that thick scar on the side of his head. Actually, the fact that he was still here, in this plane of existence, with his brain injury - somehow alive, by sheer miracle - made him even more perfect.

You took your fingers out of his mouth. Johnny begrudgingly released them with a pop. He looked flushed and ravenous. It would’ve scared you, the voracity in his eyes, if you weren’t already accustomed to it – known it like your own, same hunger that’d been festering in your lower stomach for months.

You helped him lay back down again, making sure his head would fall softly against the pillow, back flat on the mattress. You stretched out like a cat, settling yourself on your knees between his legs.

Resting your palms against his thighs, feeling the taut muscle underneath, your fingers gently scraped over the fabric of his sweatpants. The obvious tent he sported imperceptibly twitched in reflex.

You grazed the bulge with your nails. Johnny shuddered.

Only then, you curled your fingers at the waistband of his sweats and slowly pulled down, exposing him. His cock bounced back against his abdomen once it unhooked from the elastic of his boxers.

It was your mouth’s turn to water. You’d seen him naked several times in the past one hundred and eighty-four days, but the purposes were very much different. Of course, it wasn’t only him that had to refrain from intimacy. While you could, well, DIY your way to bliss, it clearly wasn’t enough, because your body was reacting dramatically at the mere sight.

Your hand almost darted at the base. Johnny’s hips gave a tiny jerk, and you could hear the lack of sounds coming from him. He was holding his breath, almost in anticipation of what he knew would happen.

Thankfully he’d always been vocal, and when you gave the first stroke, Johnny absolutely melted. Quite literally, you saw him deflate against the pillows as if he were made of wax and your hand was fire. His lips parted in a whine you hadn’t heard in ages. Or maybe never. At all.

You decided you wanted to hear that again. Fucking pronto.

You started slowly, stroking up and down the way you knew he liked. Dragging the skin over the tip, using the honestly baffling amount of precum as lube.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Johnny always looked gorgeous, and during sex, he looked like a god.Made to worship and praise. Now, his eyes were half closed. The narrow space visible was white – he had rolled back his eyes. Lips parted by heavy pants. Brows tight, as if he was concentrating.

Because he was.

“Slow down,” he drawled, seemingly unable to have his mouth follow along with his thoughts. “Fuck, plea-“, he whined, again. That sound you were looking for. Goddamn music that could feel like silk to the touch.

Your thighs squeezed together for some needed friction, and you did as he asked. He exhaled shakily, fully closing his eyes to get a grip. Johnny’s jaw clenched. He gritted his teeth, releasing a sharp breath from his nose.

Slowly, you bent at the waist, shifting a little on your knees. Your face was right next to his length as you held it up by the base, stroking languidly.

Johnny felt your breath hit his shaft and his eyes snapped open. You saw how his chest stuttered, eyelid twitching at the sight. How the indent of your spine drew a curve that tipped at your ass, tilted up. The lashes framing your doe eyes fluttering right next to his cock. Your lips pink, as if they might have caught teeth. The sheen of his precum around your fingers.

Johnny could’ve come right then and there.

To prevent it, he slid his eyes shut again. It was useless, because he felt that plush mouth he loved oh, so dearly, leave a trail of slow kisses from his base up to his angry-red tip. Johnny hissed a string of curses, wringing his eyes closed until his lids wrinkled.

You lingered a little more on his tip with your lips barely grazing it, tasting the salt of him and reveling in the desperation he was showing. Not a bad thing – this wasn’t that kind of torment you hated to see. Indeed, you liked it.

Very much so.

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Look at me, baby.”

Johnny could only oblige; however, he did beg whatever deity up there to give him enough resolve not to cum on your hand. His eyes drifted open and the sight of you, once again, threatened to have him end the moment way too soon.

He gulped. A fruitless endeavor, because his mouth was dry and his throat stuck. He parted his lips to mumble something. Something incoherent and jumbled because his brain was haywire.

Whatever he had to say, however, came out as a choked sound. Your lips parted further and wrapped around his head. Your heavy-lidded gaze locked with his much too wide eyes, and Johnny crumbled once and for all.

“Christ,” was the first sensed word he growled. His head fell back against the pillow, but that made you still.

He moaned again. Not that sound you liked, but more like a lament – why did you stop. Your mouth left his shaft with a sonorous pop. His head lifted and he glowered – how dare you.

“Eyes on me, Johnny.”

His breath hitched, and he thought you couldn’t have looked more beautiful. His eyes softened at the order, and he gave a simple nod, trying not to look as desperate as he felt and failing spectacularly.

You grinned, and he corrected himself: you could look more beautiful.

Whatever devoted thought was about to cross his mind was stopped in its tracks when you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. Tortuously slow.

You used your hand at the base to slap the head against the flat of your tongue while your other palm rested on his thigh, feeling how he tensed beneath you. Only then, your lips returned around his cock. The muscles in his neck bulged and the tendons tightened, resisting the urge to just flop back once again.

His hips gave yet another tiny jerk, and he bit his bottom lip. "Careful, pet," he warned you, his voice strained against the rock lodged in the back of his throat.

He reached down and grasped at your hair but did not pull, simply just holding on to give you a sense of where his hands were. He wished he could sit up and ram his cock down the back of your throat. He knew you’d take it – fuck, he knew. 

But he’d used enough strength to gain the current reward, which was also the other reason why his muscles felt too syrupy to hold him up.

The tight grip on your hair almost made your eyes roll back at the promise of what it could’ve meant. The memories of how good he’d guide your head down his length made your cunt flutter around nothing.

You dived down until his tip reached the back of your throat. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to breathe from your nose.

“God, sweetheart,” he moaned. Didn’t growl, or groan. John fucking MacTavish moaned, and you were unsure whether you liked this more than the gruff sounds you were used to.

You rose up again and then rammed down. Up, and down. Again, and again. And Johnny thought he could’ve cried. His chest heaved and his lungs burned – struggling to keep up with his rapid intake of air. His thighs tensed.

“Just like tha’.” He stuttered, voice cracking at the edges, “Yes, love. Yes.”

It took a lot of him not to collapse right back against the pillow and just enjoy the feeling and the obscene sounds you were making. And while his eyes stayed focused on you because you had commanded so, he also didn’t want to deprive them of the sight that you were.

You knew his tells: breathy voice, taut quadriceps, those tiny jerks of his hips to meet your mouth. Your hand curled at the base to help you out in your endeavor, stroking lightly and twisting as your mouth still worked. Your eyes locked on him, lidded and watery. Tears down your flushed cheeks.

A fucking sight alright, Johnny thought.

With the last spurs of strength left in his body, he selfishly pushed your head down, burying your nose in his curls. He groaned a desperate “Oh, fuck”, lifted his hips to meet you halfway. With a shudder, you felt him empty himself down your throat.

The grip he had on your hair tightened to the point of delicious pain, stinging your scalp. Johnny's legs went stiff under your touch. His cock twitched, buried deep down your throat, as spit and cum bubbled at the corners of your stuffed mouth.

You didn’t fight how your eyes rolled back this time. Struggling to breathe through your nose as you obediently swallowed.

Johnny allowed himself to collapse back against the pillow. Unfocused and dazed. The way his orgasm hit, like a needle puncturing his brain, made him think that maybe you were right and he’d gone and done it – the hemorrhagic stroke, or whatever it was you said.

When you finally pulled back, Johnny looked down at you with hooded eyes. His chest was still rising and falling at an alarming pace. And just when he thought it was over, that the bliss had regrettably ended, you locked eyes with him. His mouth went dry again.

He slowly let the grip on your hair go to allow you some freedom to move. He reached out to touch the side of your face. His thumb skimmed your lower lip, smearing the spit and what was left of him on your cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly – more than just a compliment.

You blushed. As if your cheeks could get any redder.

After tucking him back into his pants and sweats, Johnny beckoned your face closer to his. You followed his guidance, only to have him curl his fingers at the nape of your neck to tilt your head, and let his lips meet yours.

He didn’t kiss your hungrily. He savored you, allowing your lips to slot, and your tongues to mold. He tasted himself on you, and you tasted yourself on him.

Johnny tucked you under his arm, guiding you to rest your head on his chest like before.

You looked up at him, a cheeky smile on your lips. Tapped your fingers over his heaving chest.

“Slow breaths,” you instructed, “Keep the blood pressure low, baby.”

He huffed, “Fuck off, darling.”

You laughed and nuzzled against him. Johnny could only chuckle with you – could only think you were a vision. And when your face lifted to prop your chin on his chest so your eyes could meet, when your smile beamed in his direction, he was sure you were one.

"Now will you," you tapped his nose with your finger, "Cooperate a little more?”

Johnny snorted.

His lips curled into a tiny smirk. His cheeks were flushed as well, a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His eyes were droopy and a little dreamy when he took you in. You looked so beautiful his heart could’ve stopped, and if that was his last sight, he’d die a happy man.

You were proud of him, and for the first time, he was proud of himself, too.

He fell silent and only basked in your glow, reveling in the sunlight you brought. The arm that held you by your waist traveled upwards, and he curled it around your head. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tangling with some of your hair as well.

And Johnny thought he’d take it. He’d take it any day.

“Get that achievements list,” he whispered, “Wanna cross that shite myself.”

[moraxsthrone]

OK I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY AND PROUD OF YOURSELF BC YOU SINGLE-HANDEDLY GAVE ME ITTO BRAINROT HOW?? WHY?? W H A T???? DFCVHBNJNKMLAG

Indulge me with this little thirst

Imagine you're wearing the cutest lacy frilly lingerie set (bonus if it matches his colors black/purple/red) that just accentuates all the right curves and spots, crisscross stripes over your skin aND WHEN HE SEES YOU HE JUST GOES 👀!!!!!!! jaw hits the floor blushing drooling and repeating "babe" your name and freaking out, brain stops working just pulls you up on his big strong arms and sits you on his lap (and BOI his not-so-little friend downstairs is already excited huh)

and you just go :3c all coy and cute and delicate leaning in pressing your chest against his, scooting closer "Itto baby you gotta be careful unwrapping your present, it would be a shame to tear up something so pretty... right?" finger drawing circles on his skin making him SHIVER

AND IMAGINE HIM JUST S T R U G G L I N G TO KEEP IT TOGETHER and be delicate untying the lacy strings like NAH MAN he's got BIG HANDS NOT MADE FOR THIS TASK LMAO

plus you're making it REAL hard kissing and chuckling at his neck and rolling your hips against his crotch slow and sensual

by the time those panties come off they're soaked through with a mix of his pre and your slick asxdcvghjbnjkl

*HSAKING BITING MY PILLOW HORNY GRIP*

MA'AM I WROTE AN ENTIRE FIC WHAT HAVE YOU D O N E i think.... i think you gave me a size kink........ BUT GODS YOUR WRITING IS SO!!!!! *rabid horny crys noises*

i’ll have you know i am quite pleased with myself for making you (and anyone else who will listen) foam at the mouth for arataki mf itto.

‧₊˚ pairing — arataki itto x f!reader

‧₊˚ wc — 1.3k

‧₊˚ cw — nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. praise. oral (m. & f. rcv'ing). implied squirting.

‧₊˚ a/n — okay, so crys sent me this WEEKS AGO and every time i sat down and tried to answer, the words just wouldn't come out right? BUT THEN i realized itto's bday was only a few weeks away (at the time) and since she describes you as being his "present" IT HIT ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS...THIS WOULD MAKE THE PERFECT BIRTHDAY IDEA FOR OUR ONE AND ONI KING ARATAKI ITTO!!

poor itto’s just sitting there, looking down between his claws and the cute frilly bra you have on, his big oni head full, debating with himself over whether he should try to be delicate and slowly work the lacy underthings off of you, or throw caution to the wind and get the things off of you as quickly as he can by Any Means Necessary™️. as ravishing as you look in that dainty lingerie, he decides it's worth sacrificing in the name of getting his mouth on your tits as quickly as possible. his hands are trembling a little and his cock is throbbing underneath your thigh when his pretty crimson eyes meet yours, full of unspoken apologies.

but then he gets another idea. a better idea.

what if he can do everything he wants with you without taking the lingerie off at all????

itto grabs two handfuls of your ass, squeezing your plush flesh between his big fingers as he guides your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel the heat of your cunt dragging along his clothed length. he’s so hard and big you can feel the ridge of his cockhead through the thin material of your panties, which are getting wetter with your slick by the second.

you huff a breathy laugh against his neck, shuddering a little when your clit catches on the front seam of his pants. you’re moving on your own when he captures your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your face away from his neck so he can press his lips to yours. his kiss is needy and passionate, a quiet groan escaping his throat when you push your tongue into his mouth. oh, he likes that very much, especially when you lick at his fangs with a playful moan.

he cups one of your tits in his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, making you whine a little in his mouth. he can feel your hard nipple through the lacy material and pushes the cup of the bra down to let your tit spill out into his hand. he temporarily abandons your fervent kiss to trace the tip of his tongue around your pebbled bud before closing his lips around it to suckle, his tongue still swirling. You push your fingers into his hair, holding onto his horns as your head falls back in pleasure. 

he picks you up and puts you on your back before getting on his knees and pushing your open legs back, spreading them wide so he can see the dark wet spot that has formed in the fabric that's covering your juicy cunt. he can smell you and it’s making his cock drool inside his pants. he kisses your folds through the flimsy cloth, the tip of his nose nudging your hard clit as he goes. soft presses of his lips turn into open-mouthed kisses just before he teases your sweet little pearl. he flattens his tongue against your cunt, making you moan at the feeling of his hot, wet muscle as it makes pinpoints of contact with your skin through the lacy panties.

“mmm baby, your pussy tastes so good…fuck,” itto mutters, his voice heavy with lust.

hooking his finger inside the crotch of your panties, itto moves the lace over to one side, exposing your pink, glistening slit. the sight of your beautiful pussy has him licking his lips...then slowly licking yours. you flinch beneath him, heels digging into his hard shoulders when he flicks and rolls your tiny hard-on around with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it in. your oni may not be the smartest guy, but he knows how to eat pussy like no other. he pulls off long enough to stick his middle finger in his mouth and get it wet before carefully pushing it in your hole, watching your face with a mischievous grin as your back arches for him when you feel the slight stretch of his thick digit. he slowly fucks you with his finger before adding another.

and you certainly don't have to take anything off to be able to swallow his thick cock. he thinks it’s so sweet when you choke on it bc it shows how much you wanna please him and make him feel good. so he brushes his thumb over your hollowed cheek and there’s so much adoration in his fiery eyes when he groans and tells you how good you are to him. you treat him like a king and he dotes on you bc you’re his queen. 

and when he's ready to fuck you, he just rolls you onto your belly and pushes those purple little panties to the side. the thong is hooked around his thumb as he holds onto your hips and pushes his leaking cockhead inside you. little by little, inch by inch, he fills you with his thick oni cock and starts hitting it from the back. your whimpers and gasps of his name spur him on, driving his big dick in and out of your juicy cunt. he watches the way your tight little hole stretches open around his wide shaft, his fang leaving an indentation where he bites his lower lip to keep from cumming too fast. “nhnnn…fuck yeah, baby! takin’ my cock so well…” he praises you as the front of his muscular thighs clap against the back of yours.

a few more thrusts and he pulls out, making you whine. but before you can protest, he’s got you on your back and his huge hands around your ankles, pulling them against the hard plane of his chest. itto’s bedroom eyes are burning into yours when the tip of his tongue swipes across his lower lip as he guides his fat tip back to your hole. he pushes inside you again, his open-mouthed groan harmonizing with your pretty sigh as your wet heat stretches around him, tight and welcoming like he’s right where he’s supposed to be. leaning forward, he puts you in a press and starts fucking you again, but this time it’s slow and deep. irises of molten rock peer into your watering eyes as he tells you how beautiful you are, how good you are to him, how much he appreciates you and the way you’ve given him the best birthday present of all:

you. you, and your love.

your legs are hanging helplessly over his beefy, marked arms. the red straps of your bra have long fallen off your shoulders, your tits spilling out of the flimsy cups and bouncing with every hard thrust of itto’s strong hips. his long, white hair has fallen over his shoulders to tickle your skin, and your eyes soften.

“mmm, happy birthday, my king…” you sigh.

he leans in closer, pressing your knees to your chest, his hips still snapping into yours as he cups your jaw in his big hand. “i love you, my queen…love you so fuckin’ much,” he breathes, then kisses you hard. your tongues swirl and his hips begin to stutter. “fuck, m'so close. cum...cum with me, baby…” 

with the way his thick, bulbous cockhead has been tugging at your sweet spot for the past few minutes, you don't need to be told twice. you place your hands on either side of his face and nod, panting. he buries himself deep and grinds into you, his coarse thatch of white pubic hair rubbing your clit as his heavy balls draw up tighter and tighter against your taint.

“oh gods…” he sighs, “...fuck…”

“cum for me, itto,” you gasp, beckoning him as your own orgasm takes hold and he feels you gush all around him, soaking his lower abs and crying his name.

he plants his lips against one of your palms and squeezes his eyes shut, grunting, “cumming…i- nngghhaa fuck!” his hips twitch and jerk into you as the first jet of his hot semen erupts inside you. his oni ancestry ensures that he cums in massive loads, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you before he’s even done emptying himself inside your womb.

‧₊˚ itto m.list || happy bday you big sexy oni *kisses his horns, one at a time*

[le-monchou]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 || 𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

literally a continuation of my day two: sea of lights this fic crossed my word limit twice (first 500 and then 700 so now i'm making it 1000 words) also tagging @midnightmah07 and @owlisbuffering

as you expected, you don’t see ruggie bucchi for quite a long time after rescuing him from those fishermen- no matter how long you stroll by the sea coast, the only response to his name is the gentle sea foam, something he called the tears of the moon. despite his self-attested illiteracy, the merman whose hair was as golden as the strands of silk woven by the moon from the sun had many stories to tell, and in the short time you knew him, you dared to think of him as more than a friend. 

you groan as you push your hands onto your face, blood rising in the places where they smacked you a little too hard. am i really so starved for romance that i decided to go after ruggie of all people? he’s not even a person!!!! he’s like spongebob- he lives at the bottom of the sea! you sigh as you remove your hands from your face, watching the sky turn a beautiful orange with the sun’s setting, the moon already risen a little bit in the distance. the area around you reminds you of the day you set him free, and you can’t help the second sigh that escapes your lips. 

taking the boat you’d been lent by one of the fishing crews, you set out into the ocean once again, looking for a nice place to sit and admire the moonlight on the water, waiting for a young man who’d probably never come. sitting on a comfortable-looking rock, you toss the petals of a flower ruggie had mentioned liking the look of when he was restricted to your small bathroom onto the surface of water and scream as bubbles pop up, accompanied by a shishishi you found all too familiar. 

“you!” you seethed as ruggie laughed, doing cartwheels with his entire body on the surface. “miss me?” ruggie teased, sharp canines glistening. “i mean, who else are you waiting for on this rock?” you roll your eyes as ruggie laughs once again before quieting down. “anyway, this is really good timing from both our ends- i’m gonna show you my place so you don’t have to worry!” 

“ruggie. how am i going to breathe underwater?” 

—

“oh woah,” you breathed in the air bubble ruggie had managed to create via a spell he asked the prince about (or so you assumed, because you were reading his lips and he was very distorted underwater), bouncing up and down in the tiny menagerie as ruggie dragged you towards the cave system. “this is where i live,” ruggie mouths as he pushes another vial of potion through the bubble, letting you leave the thing for a bit to swim with him. “this is my home.” 

“it’s wonderful, ruggie.” you smile as he flushes. “i’m serious. you could do so much with a cave system as big as this. show me more!” ruggie harrumphs with flushed cheeks before he grabs your hand and leads you inwards towards his room. at least, if he were human, that’s technically what it’d be, with all the human junk arranged around you and this gigantic skeleton hanging from the ‘ceiling’. “what do you think? arranged it all myself. i mean, leona and jack helped too, of sorts, but it was mostly me.” 

“this is lovely, ruggie!” you beam. “honestly, if i were a mermaid, i’d love to come here and chill with you. too bad i can only swim like this,” you chuckle as ruggie rolls his eyes fondly before kissing you on the cheek. “well, if not now, then maybe in the future,” ruggie starts as he leads you deeper into the cave system, showing you all the marvellous trash from the surface along with the little gems and pearls and gold they find. and as the two of you keep exploring, ruggie realises again that your time together with him is up, so he brings you back to the surface all too reluctantly as you kiss him close to his lips. 

“i loved tonight, ruggie.” you smile as you climb back onto the rock, the boat you loaned still bobbing on the waves of the ocean. “i know it’s a little too early to say this… but i love you, and i hope to see you soon.” something twists on ruggie’s face, something nice and hopeful, and he says nothing as he kisses you goodbye and dives back into the water all flushed, but you think you’ve found your happy ending. i love you, ruggie bucchi.

[auspicioustidings]

good girl tearing through graves and kortac to get good boy (and herself) hour of the pound my beloved…..

God you write them so well, everything is so good i’m like frothing at the mouth whenever you update‼️

i cant stop thinking about good girl finally making it back to 141 and the Vaqueros with good boy and both groups of men trying so hard to show that they’re happy she’s back too but none of it working because she’s been through too much

none of them can touch her. it hurts too bad. she nearly bit Rudy and Soap’s hands off while they tried to pet her hair while she was eating. she even tears apart a book that Ghost gets her because it has to be a trick.

they’re just trying to get her comfortable and pliant again so they can ship her off wherever in the world next, or find some reason for her to slip up so they can punish her, or get her into their bed and she won’t have it

(deep down, past a certain point of Stockholm syndrome, she just started to want them to like her. she just wanted the softness and the sweetness good boy got. she wanted to be their girl and their pet.

why was she never good enough?)

Oh that last line hits so hard <3

Ok so starting with the escape, there are a couple of big fuck ups that allow you to tear your way out of there.

Nikto was never allowed to fuck you because they view him as a feral animal who would have gotten too possessive and dangerous had he been given the opportunity, they did not consider he's been simmering with resentment over it and waiting for his opportunity to tear apart the handlers who cattle prodded him whenever he would try get under your clothes during training (he already is possessive and weird about you and the idea of you running wild out in the world gets his blood racing)

Mace was Ghost's pet before he was ever the pound's and his loyalty will always lie with his original master first - Ghost was a good master and Mace wants that for you

Roze would usually not get involved, but she's found that recently seeing you crying is making her furiously uncomfortable so she wants you out of here

Kate has been biding her time on taking the pound down after she 'adopted' her (future at the time) wife from them, she's never forgiven them for the state they put that woman in - them pissing off the 141 & Los Vaqueros presents her with the perfect time to activate sleeper agent Alex (who you haven't seen, but he has seen you) because she knows that this time they won't stop her

Alex has been trying to help you this whole time and getting increasingly upset about not being able to do more (Halloween week should have been so much worse for you, but so many of Konig's people conveniently had emergencies that week and had to skip their hour)

There are people in that building clearing a path for you in the shadows. You don't come across Horangi because he's currently hiding from Nikto, knowing if he is caught then he's absolutely fucked. Most of the 'nurses' are foaming at the mouth after being poisoned by Roze while Mace and Graves are in a fight to the death inside the clinic. The first time you have ever seen Alex is when he runs into you and good boy in the hall, hands you a knife with a nod and then takes off to deal with the people on your tail.

Good boy talks to you. Like fully, truly talks to you. You don't remember after because it's all a complete blur, but he was a human man fighting tooth and nail to protect the woman he loved during that escape.

Nobody has been able to stop Konig. He blocks the exit and he's so huge and you are so terrified of him from all that he's done to you. He's confident in your submission, backhands your boyfriend when he tries to get between you and tugs the o-ring on your collar to bring you towards him. "Trying to fly away from me spatzi? Come, let us clip your wings."

He truly thinks you will acquiesce, he is smiling indulgently with that ever horrible glint in his eyes that means he is excited about punishing you. You use the knife the man in the hallway gave you and bury it in his belly. You pull it across and rip it back out. You do not stop to give him any last words, you do not yell at him or tell him how you feel about him nor do you let him do the same to you. Because he's not worth your fucking time. You just grab your boyfriend and keep fucking going.

You meet Ale and Ghost near the entrance. They have started fighting their way in while you were fighting your way out and oh boy are they surprised to see you snarling and covered in blood barrelling towards the exit. Your body gives out on you as you fight hard against Ghost, only managing to bury the knife in his shoulder before he has your failing limbs restrained. The last thing you see is your boyfriend's face near yours. He's crying you think.

When you wake up in a new place (it's a lakehouse, beautiful but it does not escape your notice that it's in the middle of the wilderness), you're too unwilling to let anyone near you to notice things. People were on your side. Most of the men in this house are injured (Gaz nearly died, Price is in a sling for months) because in the background they were willing to die fighting to get you out of there. It's how good boy got caught, they were all throwing themselves into danger to get to you. You had people inside the pound who were on your side and you never would have gotten out without them.

But you don't know any of that. So yes, you are stuck thinking that you were never good enough to be their good girl. You had to get yourself out of there after all. They only came because good boy was there, because it couldn't possibly have been for you. You tried so hard to get them to like you and it failed. They had a tracker in you (the pound cut that out the first day), so they must have let the pound pick you up. They don't want you, they're just stuck with you because of good boy.

You are not loveable. You don't have the ability to be good. So you don't try because you can't face being rejected again. Better you be bad and don't let anyone close. Better you actively try at something you know you will succeed at, making everyone want to stay away from you.

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

thinking thots about exhibitionism with zb1 legal line ☹️☹️☹️ having them tied up as you touch yourself in front of them makes them go FERAL

okay so. i know you probably wanted a serious response but… i wrote you something a little funny instead bc i’m just in a funny mood. i’ll tackle it seriously another time, just remind me 😈💕🩷

warnings: suggestive/smut 18+ but nothing graphic, ^^prompt, gn!reader, healthy dose of crack ya know

☾⋆｡° ✮₊ ⊹₊ ⊹๋࣭ ⋆｡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚☽

jiwoong is kicking himself for not lifting more weights at the gym:

⋆｡°✩ “i need you, oh my— god, i didn’t think ribbon was this fucking strong”

⋆｡°✩ “break the headboard, why don’t you? i’ll just tie you up to the mailbox instead so the neighbors have a better view of you being a little bitch”

hao is basically foaming at the mouth since he’s so used to getting what he wants and it makes him babble like an idiot:

⋆｡°✩ “i can’t… i can’t… please baby, i can’t take it anymore. i’m gonna die, i think. it would be really awkward to explain to my parents if i died like this”

⋆｡°✩ “you’re such a fucking drama queen; just enjoy the show. and also i would never tell your parents you died watching me touch myself wtf”

hanbin is enjoying the show a little too much for your liking (and he’s also tired, being a leader is hard):

⋆｡°✩ “fuck, you’re so hot. i could cum just watching you. and i don’t even have to do any work! we should do this more often”

⋆｡°✩ “what the actual fuck is that supposed to mean hanbin”

matthew is crying of course and he’s insisting he’s not crying because he’s canada oppa or whatever:

⋆｡°✩ “i’m not crying. they’re NOT tears. no, it’s… it’s cum! you’re so hot that i’m cumming from my eyes watching you”

⋆｡°✩ “okay that is a million times worse than you admitting that you’re crying”

taerae never misses an opportunity to give you attitude:

⋆｡°✩ “fuck, tae— want your hands on me so bad”

⋆｡°✩ “should’ve thought about that before you tied me up like a christmas ham”

[jujutsukatsuki]

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, throatfucking, spitting, gagging, messy makeup, soft kiri <3

Smut will be under the cut!

Sometimes things don’t work out, plans fall through, people flake, or your boyfriend since freshman year of high school decides to dump you via text when you were waiting for him at the coffee shop you always met at when you and him got off work.

So here you are, sitting in this little café, crying into your ceramic cup full of espresso that has foam art of a heart. You sniffle as you sit in the booth. It didn’t help that today was already awful. You flunked a test you stayed up all night studying for cause life would be too easy to let you have one thing go right today. Your AP literacy teacher seemed to have a burning hatred for you and you had cracked your phone screen.

If you weren’t spending thousands on college and already in your last year, you might have quit today.

Your only saving grace? The cute barista who you’d come to know as Eijiro Kirishima. He had covered your drink when you realized that your wallet was at home sitting on your coffee table.

You barely touched the cup of coffee he had spent time making just for you, even adding the cute heart on top. Instead you chose to keep your head in your hands as you stared at the table blankly, tears falling from your face into the coffee, ruining the art.

Kirishima bussed a few tables before he got to you.

“Y/n?” He asked softly as he put a hand on your shoulder. You sniffled and looked up at him, a white towel was throwing over the tight black shirt he wore. A black apron covered the front of his body. You took notice of a couple pins he had on the front. A pin from a hero movie, crimson riot or something, you couldn’t remember the actual name. A pin that read He/Him, his name tag that had a pink smiley face sticker along with his title of Assistant Manager for X amount of years on it and a pin that read ‘Ask me about my favorite coffee!’

“Y/n?” He asked again as he knelt down a bit to be eye level with you.

“Sorry, yeah, what’s up Kirishima?” You wiped the black stained tears from your cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Your bottom lip quivered, fresh tears pricked your eyes, face was hot with embarrassment and sadness.

“M-my boyfriend broke up with me over text.” You covered your mouth with your hand and let out a muffled sob. Kiri’s eyes held an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. Pity? Genuine concern? You weren’t sure.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, that’s so unmanly of him.” He wrapped you in a tight bear hug. You wrapped your arms around him tight and cried into his chest.

Eijiro ended up taking his break so he could comfort you while his co-worker, Shoto, covered. He listened to you vent about your problems and frustrations, you actually drank the new coffee that Kiri brought over for you this time, he didn’t want you to drink a coffee that was probably 85% your tears at that point.

He sat next to you and held your hand as you cried into his shoulder.

“I mean, nearly eight years.” You cried. “I thought him and I were gonna get married.” Kirishima rubbed your back slowly as he listened, he didn’t talk, just listened and god it felt nice.

“To tell you the truth, I never liked him much.” Eijiro said once you had calmed down, tears slowly falling less and less.

“Why?” You sniffled and looked up at him.

“He was super bossy and didn’t tip well.” Kiri joked to try and cheer you up. You let out a small laugh.

“He was like that wasn’t he?” You brushed some hair behind your ear and wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I don’t want to tell you that everything is going to be okay because I don’t know if it will. But what I can tell you is that you’re such a good, kind, genuine person and anyone is lucky to have you. You’re truly a gift Y/n. And you’re really pretty.” He smiled

Your face felt warm as he said that. “Thanks Kiri. And thank you for listening, I really needed that today.”

“Anytime.” He smiled at you with a big toothy grin.

He got back to work after that, only after he gave you his number if you needed anything of course and you went home to kick your boyfriend out of the apartment.

Only you came home to him having sex with your best friend in the bed the two of you shared. Honestly, you didn’t even care at that point. You calmly gathered all your things, told him to have a nice life and that you were telling the landlord about him smoking weed in the apartment all the time.

With no where to go and a car full of stuff, your brain went on auto pilot. You ended up in front of the coffee shop. It was now pouring rain outside, thunder and lightening were brewing in the sky.

Your eyes held a blank gaze as you stared straight ahead. A soft knock came from your passenger window, it made you jump as you unlocked the door after seeing a familiar red head.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Kiri asked as he climbed into the passenger seat, he was no longer wearing his apron and the tight black shirt he wore clung even tighter to his body thanks to the rain. His normal spikes of hair were now hanging down in his face.

You sat and told Kiri about what happened once you had got home. His jaw dropped as he heard about what you walked into you. He invited you to stay with him for the night.

Little did you know that one night was gonna change everything.

That was all a year ago. You’ve been living in Kirishima’s guest room ever since.

Currently you were making dinner, Kirishima was gonna be home soon from work and you decided to make his favorite meal that you knew how to cook. Homemade chicken Alfredo.

The front door’s lock jiggled as he unlocked the door and walked in.

“Y/n, I’m home.” He hummed as he dropped his work backpack next to the house and took his shoes off.

“In the kitchen Eiji!” You called out as you were mixing the noodles and sauce.

“Hey.” He smiled as he kissed the back of your head before he grabbed a soda from the fridge.

“Did you have a good day at work?” You asked as you put the noodles to simmer on a low heat.

“It was alright, had a few Karens. What about your day?”

You smiled softly as you looked at him. A black bandana was holding his hair back from his face, he had a smile that reached his eyes as he inquired about your day.

Suddenly it dawned on you how domestic you and him were. How he’d come home and kiss your head, how you’d snuggle into his side as you watch a tv show together, how he’d carry you to your bed and kiss your forehead as he tucked you in. How he’d come up behind you when you were with his friends and wrap his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder.

You were in love with your roommate and best friend.

As you two sat in the couch eating dinner, your legs were over his lap, head resting against his thick biceps. Your thoughts were full of details about Kirishima that you could get rid of. The small scar above his eye he got from jumping through a window when he was a kid, the tattoos that decorated his inner arms, a few comic book heroes and anime characters he loved, the way he instantly relaxed under your touch. You noticed how much Kiri loved touching you. He was always the first one to hold you close to him or kiss your head.

You kept staring at him from the corner of your eye, enough that he caught your gaze.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He asked as he reached out and gently wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of your lips with his thumb. Your face was suddenly very hot as you slowly nodded, he wiped his thumb on a napkin.

“You seem quieter tonight are you sure you’re alright?”

“Kiri, do you…” You stopped to think about your phrasing before you decided to come out and say it.

“Do you like me?”

He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Yeah of course, you’re like my best friend.” He smiled a bit

“No I mean like… romantically.”

Kiri’s cheeks went bright red as he stuttered out a answered.

“Is- uh.. Is it okay if I say yes?” He nervously cleared his throat as he chewed on his bottom lip, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped.

“Yeah of course! I just, I realized that.. maybe I’ve always known and I was just scared but I don’t want to ruin anything and you’re just so sweet and I’m worried that I’m not good enough for you but I like you like that an-“

He cupped your cheek with his huge hand and kissed you. It was such a polite way to shut you up. You kissed back, hands finding the shirt he wore and clutching it in your hands. His lips were soft against yours, his actions were gentle as his other hand held the back of your neck.

The kiss was broken when you both needed air. Lips were swollen and red, faces were warm and the only noise was that of soft panting.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while.” He smiled as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“How long?” You questioned

“Since the very first day you walked into the coffee shop and ordered a hot chocolate and a croissant.“ Your face seemed to get even warmer.

“You remembered what I ordered?”

Kirishima chuckled as he nodded.

“Yeah, you asked for four pumps of extra chocolate in the drink because sometimes it wasn’t a strong enough taste for you. Plus you gave me like a 15 dollar tip.”

You laughed and Kirishima fell deeper in love with you at the sound you made. His smile grew as he watched you.

That night you laid in your bed, tossing and turning as you thought of the revelations from tonight. You loved him and he loved you. Now what the fuck do you do?

You shoved the blankets off you and got up, slipping on the bunny slippers that Kiri got for you last Christmas. You opened your door only to come face to face with him. His red hair was down in his face as he looked like he hadn’t slept yet.

“What are we?” The two of you said in sync. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What do you want?” Kiri asked as he placed a hand on your upper arm before it slid down to grab your hand.

“You.” You whispered softly as you gently squeezed his hand.

“I want you too.” He smiled tiredly

“So.. does that mean we’re dating?” You asked for confirmation.

“I guess it does.” He kissed your forehead and squeezed your hand.

“Let me take you on a date tomorrow- er, later tonight?” He chuckled

“Oh yeah? Where are we gonna go?”

“Not sure yet but I’ll pick you up at seven?” He grinned

“I’ll make sure I’m ready by then.” You moved to wrap your arms around his neck.

“If I’m a few minutes late it’s cause my super cute roommate takes forever to get ready.” He teased

“I do not!” You laugh, Kiri reached down and picked you up by your thighs. You gasped, your slippers falling off in the process

“Eiji!”

“What?” He hummed as he stole you away to his room.

“I can walk you know.” You yawn softly, sleep already starting to pull you under.

“I know.” He yawned after you did. He laid down in his bed and laid you next to him. You could see in Kiri’s eyes that he was seconds from sleep. By the time you pulled the blanket over you two, he was out. You snuggled into his chest, it was a perfect fit like you two were made for each other.

One of his hands rested on your thigh, the warm feeling made butterflies in your stomach as sleep became an anchor chained to your ankle yanking you down through the waves of tranquility.

It was your first big date with Eijiro, you put on a nice black dress that hugged your figure in a way that made you feel confident with a deep v neck line that showed off your cleavage and a pair of red heels. Thankfully the dress stopped about mid knee level so it showed off the heels.

You weren’t sure where you and him were going, only that he told you to dress fancy. He looked very handsome in a black suit with a red tie. He grinned like a mad man when he saw you. His large hands found your waist as you snaked your arms around his neck, fingers grazing the hair of his undercut.

“Baby, you look-” He cuts himself off as he moves you to do a little twirl for him. Kiri’s eyes rake over your figure before his eyes meet yours as you twirl back to face him. The smile on his face reaches his eyes, he's looking at you like you’re the love of his life, like you’re a gift to this world.

To him, you are all of those.

Dinner goes well, Eijiro tells you stories that have happened at work recently, you tell him about what you’re learning at college. The entire time he looks at you as if you put the stars in the sky.

He’s so in love with you, it hurts.

🛑 Smut under cut 🛑

After dinner was the fun part. It wasn’t the first time you two did it. But this would be the first time that the two of you were going to have needy, messy sex. Your hands were all over each other, grasping at clothing and skin until your clothes were in balls on the floor.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty on your knees.” Kiri panted softly as he looked at you. His lips were swollen with light stains of the lipstick you had worn, his pupils were huge, lust blown. His hand cups your cheek as he stands in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock. The tip is red and leaky with dribbles of pre cum.

“Thank you daddy.” You smile and stick out your tongue, his cock is huge. Youre not sure how youre gonna fit the monster in your mouth, the only hope you had was how well he fit in your cunt. Eijiro grins as he smacks the tip of his cock against your tongue.

“Such a messy girl.” He whispers as he licks his lips in anticipation. You slowly take every inch of his cock down your throat, you get about half way before your mouth feels extremely full.

Eijiro lets out a soft groan as his hands tangle in your hair. He bucks his hips into your mouth. Needy. Wanting. He’s doing everything he can to chase his high. You pull back for a moment to talk to him, saliva drips down your chin.

“You can fuck my throat Daddy.”

His brain malfunctions over your words, with one hand he puts his cock back into your mouth as the other has your hair gripped tightly. You let your jaw remain slack as he started to thrust into your mouth.

The feel of your throat gripping his cock is the most euphoric. Drool drips down your chin to between your breasts. The feeling of your gagging satisfies him, the way you clench around his cock. Between your legs is slick, your thighs stick together as you rub them together for friction. You let out a whine as you make eye contact with him, he thrusts harder down your throat, causing you to gag again. This time he holds your head down, nose buried in his neatly trimmed happy trail.

The gagging is what’s pushing him over the edge, he reaches down and wraps his hand around your throat. He can feel himself buried inside. Your head feels light, but it feels too good to tap him on the thigh and make him stop. Without warning, his cum floods down your throat, making you instantly start swallowing.

His breathing is harsh as he pulls out, muscles in his thighs are lightly jerking and a few spurts of cum find their way on your lips and chest.

“Fuck.” He curses as he looks at you, makeup smeared around your face, lips red and puffy, cum dripping down your skin. He can’t help but add to the mix with his spit before he smears the mixture all over your cheeks and mouth.

“So fucking pretty. Gonna make such a mess of you.” He smirks as he lifts you up and lays you on the bed. You have a feeling that the neighbors are gonna have a noise complaint to give your landlord, but in that moment, you couldn’t give a fuck. You were about to be obliterated by your boyfriend's huge cock, and that’s all that mattered to you.

[yourlovermori]

you are one of the only people i feel like i can run to with my hornee izuku thirst i’msorry-

but listen. amazon. position. with. izuku. his knees pressed to his chest, ankles by your head. not being able to help begging you to go faster, promising he’s been a good boy. to take your frustration of the day out on him by using his dick cuz he’s seen how worked up you’ve been and and and- yeah :(

Humbly,

Pegnon🍁

im so sorry my beloved pegnon please forgive me for getting to this weeks later :(( you’re such a sweetheart, thank you so much for the kind words it means alot to me honestly :)) you had me foaming at the mouth with this one good god.

think about how one day you come home after a hard day of work — a hard week of stress that’s been building up in every category under the sun to the big bright round eyes of izuku. he knows how tiresome this week’s been for you. he sees how your warm smile continuously falters as every day passes and it’d be a lie if he said the slow absence of your affection and attention hasn’t had him feeling neglected. oh god and just think about how increasingly needy he’s gotten over the week. fucking the shit out of his fleshlight — his eyes becoming glossy when he can’t cum knowing that his cum only belongs in the depths of your cute little cunt.

once you’ve stepped through the door he’s all over you. disregarding your personal space as always and burying his face in your neck — whining against it. most of what he’s saying is incoherent except for the fragments of him begging for you. “you can use me”, he says “anything fr’you j-just want you to touch me — just wanna be inside” he gasps against your skin. so distraught that he’s almost inconsolable —gripping the fabric of your shirt and pleading for you to do something — anything.

which lead you here with him gripping the backs of his thighs and his curly hair splayed out against the pillows — looking at you with stars in his eyes as you harshly bounce yourself on his cock. the constant —shluck shluck everytime you sink back down it has him delirious and moaning out, “g-god fuck fuck keep going” n choking on a gasp, “swear m’gonna be s’good fr’you — i’ll be your good boy, i promise.” —knowing that this position doesn’t allow him to do much but act as your pretty little dildo.

and poor baby is so sensitive that he’s cumming before you — sobbing into the air and tears dribbling down his face — hiccuping sorry’s as he looks up in shame. and you almost feel bad for him for the way his body tenses up when you start your pace up again — hissing at the overstimulation and mindlessly babbling to you, as you continue to use his cock until he’s shriveling up and shooting nothing but blanks.

[florencetypemaniacs]

Heeey Florence I hope you are having a splendid weekend ♥️ I took note and my nerdy heart laughed at seeing you refer to Tai as a bit of a Tsundere. Omg i love grumpy hard to romance characters.

Call me toxic but I love a bit of jealousy. My MC is a bit of a flirt himself so it got me thinking.

How would the ROs react to someone openly flirting with MC trying to ask them on a date like Literally infront of them during the crushing stage?

Thankkkk you 😇

Oh, we all want a bit of jealousy in our lives. Who doesn't? Now, how would the ROs react to the MC who was being flirted with.....????

CRUSHING STAGE:

💛 Marcel

Oh God, my poor baby. He really wouldn't know what to do, but in the end, he would make the sacrifice of turning around while you talk to someone who seems to have your attention or what it looks like anyway. He would be your shoulder to cry on or just a best friend in general. When looking at you, he doesn't need anything else.

Marcel is mature and would rather not make a fuss, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. Oh no, he will totally be staying awake the whole night thinking of you, or maybe you will find that he made you a cup of tea the next morning. Just a little something to get you thinking of him.

🧡 Margaret

The first thought that comes to mind is nervousness. She might have a few thoughts, like:

Why did I feel like I wanted to punch that person in the face? That is not very nice.

Margaret would be upset, and she would probably go to one of her friends (Marcel, Rosemary, Owen, or even Tai) for help. When she is told that she is jealous, she will be a bubbling sunshine mess. She has feelings for you, and how could she not? You're awesome! She would burst through the café door and jump into your arms, telling you how she felt.

♥️ Owen

Snarky comments, for sure, towards whoever is flirting with you. Scoffing at their personal interests—basically anything they could make a comment about, they would. Owen is really clueless about love—well, not clueless; he just wouldn't realize that this was a crush; he would just think he felt something off about the person.

If you were to ask him about it, he would just shurg his shoulders and say, "I don't have a good feeling about them, Lass/Duck/Lad." But when he looks into your eyes, Oh Boy, does he feel the heart beating in his chest. It finally hits him like a truck going ninety miles per hour, and he might actually choke when talking to you. With a confused look on your face, he would leave the shop.

Not again. Not again. 

💙 Rosemary

Rosie wouldn't think it was a crush as well, but she was just upset that this person was taking her attention away.

Rosemary would gently touch your arm or whisper in your ear, making the person talking to you so uncomfortable. When you were to turn around, Rosemary would give the person a little death glare and pull you towards her, telling you that you looked like you were going to fall.

When the person gets their order and leaves, in no time is Rosemary crossing her legs with class, and just like that, the problem is gone. Now give her the attention she deserves.

🩵 Tai

Denial. Anger. He would keep a stern look on his face as he insulted the person; if you were to ask him about it, his line of fire would land on you. With a few insults, he would leave the shop, tears not forming until he knew he was alone.

However, he would soon realize how much of an ass he was being and apologize to you the next day, but his mask was back up. All you would get is a monotone, cold apology, but an apology nonetheless.

💚 Zane

Zane would be foaming at the mouth. Zane would be glaring at the person so hard that if looks could kill, then that person would be dead on the spot.

When you turn around to get something, Zane looks at the person and whispers.

"Mine" 

If the person got the hint and left you alone, then Zane would leave it at that, but if not, oh, then you might see a missing poster in a few weeks. Don't cross Zane.

[dizzy-n-busy]

I have no idea what’s going on but I was tagged for something !! I believe it’s like a lil wip fic thing and considering I haven’t posted in a while, you may have this !!

And considering I’ve been, well (metaphorically) dead, you may have three snip fics from three different fandoms bc I feel bad <33 (warning they’re all very short !!)

Forcing my NeXus agenda on you again since it’s been a while 🫶 /lh

[Thank you for giving the people content @agentplutonium]

DON’T YOU HEAR ME HOWLING? [Redacted Audio - Milo Greer]

[1920’s ficlet of Milo whooping a shades ass <33]

My hand whips the gun out faster than I could even process. the metal from my 38 revolver shone brightly from the small sliver of lamp light that slipped past my figure.

My pointer was already tugging at the trigger when the shade had pounced; its form was indistinguishable from the blur of a shadow, the heavy material of its coat kept it grounded, the scuttle of its shoes to the grimy floor made it apparent.

It’s hands latched onto my arms with so much force that I was physically pushed back. The severe absence of a gunshot - and furthermore ringing in my ears - had directed my attention to the clank of metal dropping and sudden lightness in my hand.

That thing was expensive for crying out loud!

The shade’s face fell further into uncanny with its endlessly opening jaw trying to leech itself on me; teeth sharpened and cheeks tearing, barely managing to string the skin together with stolen magic.

A guttural sound reverberates out my throat as I draw my hands to its shoulders; pushing the grotesque face as far away as possible - it’s ever-blue eyes piercing and glowering at me - followed by a high-pitched ticking noise, almost sounding like a broken conveyor belt.

The rag-a-muffin towered over me, practically pushing me down. I pushed back harder, taking instant notice of how quickly the shade’s resolve crumbled - no amount of empowered energy it tried using would match my own - I shift my foot back and force my body to tackle.

I’d been in enough fights with Tank to know how to get a tall fucker on the ground.

I manage to shove the shade to one of the decrepit walls, the texture peeling and flaking off on impact; the Shade lets out a hiss, throwing spittle at me. I can’t help but make a face, grossed out by it and move back a little to get out the firing zone off instinct.

“I was tryna be civil you—“ I grit when the thing struggles against my hold, relentlessly tossing around, shrieking as it tries to get at me again; gnashing its teeth and practically foaming out the mouth.

It managed to propel itself off the wall a little with its violent thrashing and I attempt to push it back however, due to my footing, the shade overpowered me; driving me into the opposite wall and further into the dark alley. My groan develops into a growl, feeling the shade pushing and prying at me - digging its sharpened nails into my coat - still managing to graze my skin despite the thick cladding.

This damn thing really doesn’t know what expensive means, does it?

==========

PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! [NeXus - Cherlock]

[Sherlock helping Cher fight with their one arm havin’ ass /lh <33]

Sherlock had finally gotten Cher on the mat, back splayed on the cushioned floor with their body running taut under the vampire’s lithe form. Sherlock huffed, trying to keep the others — admittedly bulkier — frame to the ground.

Their constant struggling and wiggling around proved difficult, it was one of their best techniques given how big they were; a bit weak on the flexibility but good on strength. Sherlock’s current position held them at advantage with their elbow and forearm pining their chest to the floor and keeping their other hand on the shifters wrist, body held at an angle so they could roll the opposite way if needed.

For only having one arm, Cher didn’t act like it, which makes sense; their legs were stronger than both of Sherlock’s arms combined.

“You’re doing good, damn good — lemme catch my breath…” Sherlock looked down at them; mouth open in a pant for added theatrics, a little light humor to uplift the heavy room, yet they paused at the sudden hollowness of their chest. The vampire immediately lessens their hold on their chest, seeing the shifter’s face pale and pupils pining, their worry overriding the alarms ringing, “hey, you oka—“

Sherlock couldn’t even finish their sentence before Cher’s legs wrapped around them, tightening around their waist and tossing them to the side; Sherlock slams onto their side with a gasp. Cher’s arm moved to wrap over their neck and, thank fuck, for the quick reflexes or else Sherlock wouldn’t have been able to wedge a hand under their flexing forearm in time before they broke their windpipes.

“Fuck — Cher!”

Despite their yell, the other didn’t relent.

Body coiling and tightening around their own like a snake to prey. It reminded the vampire — in their haze — of their maker, or maybe seeing the shopkeep flashing before their eyes was death dangling their life in their face; that would explain their prodigy and boyfriend also being there.

Cher was muttering feverishly under their breath, a language far too quickly spoken to be discernible in Sherlock’s predicament — especially with all the blood rushing to their ears, weakening their body from lack of sustenance — vaguely sounding like a prayer of some sort.

Cher’s body burned hot with fresh blood pumping; almost to a boil, it made Sherlock flinch.

When was the last time they even fed? They choke, feeling their own knuckles pressing against their throat. They don’t even think the shifter will get the chance to off them before they wind up and do it themself.

Focus, Sherlock!

Pushing the warm skin away was proving difficult, the rush of the shifters pulse ran rampant under their very fingertips; tempting and pliant. Sherlock’s senses were overwhelmed by them, their jaw fell slack and they could almost feel their fangs begging to pierce Cher’s vitals. They can’t, they shouldn’t — they wouldn’t.

…

Right?

=========

CIRCUS ACT [YuuriVoice - Seth]

[Seth being idk a clown?? /j/lh it’s just inspired off a drawin’ I did <33]

Seth was always a passionate kid, he’d fixate on the little things - hone in on them til they rotted him from the inside out, but in a good way. A bit obsessive, but good nonetheless.

The brunet was also very susceptible to…influences, both good and bad ones. So when he saw his mama constantly working on her motorcycle, he grew a fascination with the oversized scooters — heavily influenced by how proud his mama was of the beautiful hunk of metal — wanting to be just like her.

That all took a detour when said woman decided to get up and stroll out his life, like he meant nothing. There was a period of confusion for him, where he purchased a motorcycle in memory of her; helplessly clinging onto any sort of semblance to a happier time when everything fell to shit, to then hating looking at the bike. It was a reminder how she left — they were the same brand so when Seth would bypass shop windows, he’d see his mama riding away from him.

Everything he felt towards the motorcycle was convoluted and trauma taken at surface value, it stayed like that for a few years; till he got locked up, that is.

Stuck in the penitentiary, encased by concrete walls which had the darkest of secrets imbedded into them — rowdy inmates screaming couldn’t compare to how loud the white structure rang his ears with trouble and horrible thoughts — eventually he stopped crying, stopping acknowledging the droning of his sins playing bumper cars in that sweet little fucked up head of his; a redeeming quality of his being adaptability.

Seth was docile for the remainder of his stay, getting more leeway for his good behavior — probation being added after his evaluation when he was doing time — the brunet thought about what he should do when he got out.

His first thought leeched onto his motorcycle, he missed it — missed how human it made him feel despite everything — it was the closest thing to his mama’s solidarity as he could get. It was funny how the most humanizing thing to him was an inanimate object; not a parent, not a peer, not a friend and especially not a lover.

Seth’s jaw tensed, his body suddenly boiling with uncontrollable emotion; unresolved issue, he was frankly far too scared to confront, clawed at him — begging for release, no matter what kind or how it was done — and that’s how Seth wound up in a circus gig.

Now, the big brown eyed guy wasn’t standing precariously on a wire with a painted face for viewing pleasure, he felt more drawn towards a very specific act; The Globe of Death.

Also known as, the ball of death, it was a relatively dangerous act which consisted of a giant metal-mesh ball housing three to four motorcyclists inside, all them revving engines and narrowing skimming each other when circling around the ball.

Only two - or was it three? - fatalities have actually been confirmed but it added a nice edge for Seth; he adapted a little too well to the thrill of the crime business, now he kinda…craves it? It was only a tiny preference, totally not a necessity that gives him worse withdrawals than a cigarette itch.

Totally not.

=========

[livelaughlovesubs]

How could I forget the babygirl himself, Kaveh.

This man is so fucking hjggfgg he's so sweet and a little bit pathetic and I want him carnally 😤

Wanna be his sugar momma (I mean this in the most gender neutral way possible) but at the same time I wanna gently Dom him because unlike Alhaitham you can't be mean or tease him too much. He's sensitive and that's ok.

If you want him as a sugar baby given what we know from canon (this man deserves peace ffs), you'll have to gradually get him stuff. Like a new up to hold all of his pens and pencils for his architecture work, gradually replacing stuff that's inconsequential. Bring him homemade lunches when working on architecture commissions, have him sit down and take a break and eat 😤 he can't say no to you. Plus you can let him crash at your place when Alhaitham takes his key or locks him out of their place, he's gonna be pampered.

I just know that he'd moan so pretty, Nini, I feel it!

Better hope you have a soundproof room or live outside of the city because pretty boy can absolutely get loud, he can keep it down but why would you want that?

Since he wears clothes that cover a lot you have more places to leave hickies and love bites on him than say Cyno (truly a travesty).

He's a service top and eager but he also isn't against bottoming if he doesn't have to go anywhere the next day in terms of work.

Another one with a sensitive waist, his thighs, chest (right where his shirt's chest window is hehe 😈), back. Look with the right stimulation you can make him needy touching anywhere.

Also y'all are going to give me an inflated ego jgdjhd got me out here giggling and kicking my feet

-🐇

No but Kaveh is such a pretty boy. I accidentally got baizhu and his c1 just for Kaveh. (Pulled him during his release) anyway~

He is so pretty, so adorable. If I were his sugar mommy I’d buy him whatever he wants but only if he asks for it. Pleading so gently with tears ridden eyes, rubbing his cheek against your hand… ughhhhh

Hold him with all the care in the world, caress every inch of his body and watch him squirm in your embrace. Mark his skin with bruises, teeth bites and hickeys, until he’s foaming at the mouth.

[bucknastysbabe]

For the kink bingo, maybe Criston begging 🫣

This kinda took a darker turn than expected, hope you like! Xoxoxoxo

Kink Bingo - Begging

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral(m!receiving), Criston is a masochist, he’s batshit crazy depressed, bored also batshit princess likes to assist with his internal torment while getting off, VERY TOXIC, slight religious kink, Degredation, begging, dom!targ princess, man tears, basically she wants him as a pet.

A/N: Criston has broken his vows. He doesn’t care for much anymore besides supporting the greens. Morality is out the window and it just seems like he’s lost that inner spark he once had. Hence why he’s treated like this.

Criston had a pretty begging face. Big doleful brown eyes and sultry tilt to his lips. You would love to chain him up and parade the knight around the Keep as to say, “Look at my pet, isn’t he gorgeous? Dornish, I know!”

You sadly couldn’t do that. Everything had to stay behind closed doors. Sworn to celibacy and all that fun and merriment. Your mother would’ve sent you to be a Septa right now if it weren’t for your dragon needed for the imminent war. Just a matter of time and Xeraxes would be in battle.

Criston foamed at the mouth for war, for revenge, failing his vows. You figured the man liked to torture himself, make his lovely body as vile as his secrets. Yet here the white knight was again, at your feet. His armor had already been discarded, leaving Cole in a loose shirt and tan breeches. The seven pointed star hung upon his chest gleamed against the candlelight— a mockery.

Those dark orbs glistened, plush lips set in a pout. You, naked, leaned against the edge of the bed. Your legs spread so Criston could see what he wanted so very badly. Your swollen glistening folds, engorged clit, and peaked nipples. He made a small noise, shifting on strong thighs.

“Why should I let you eat my cunt Cole?”

His lips opened, shut, and opened again as he searched for an answer. You laughed meanly and pointed at him, “Don’t have one do you? Men, no matter how noble, swayed by cunt.”

The brunette growled lowly, obviously upset but banished to speak without orders. You twirled a pale braid and mused, “Confess to me. Like you would a Septon. Your crimes. Such a stained soul, my knight.”

Criston looked as if he wanted to cry now, his cock visibly twitching and swelling. You kicked a leg out, nudging the man with your toes. He jerked back as if stung, hanging his head. You ordered, “Look at your princess when she’s speaking to you, dog, I said confess now. Then we can have a trial.” You couldn’t help but grin wickedly at his distraught face, throat bobbing.

Criston’s voice was raspy as he asked, “From the beginning or since Kingsguard?”

You scoffed, “Don’t care to hear what savagery you got up to in the Marches. Start with the white cloak.”

Criston shifted again, visibly aroused from his discomfort. A wonderful pair. He intoned, “I broke my vows by taking princess Rhaenyra as a lover. We…made love many times. Then I offered to elope, running from my position. I tried to commit an abominable sin, suicide. Now I have hate in my heart for every person associated with her. I killed many innocents who would dare threaten Aegon’s claim. I lust. I lust, I lust, I lust over another damn Targaryen who tells me what a cunt I truly am.”

You laughed, “And a cunt you are.”

Criston’s eyes were shadowed, shoulders drooping in defeat. Leaning towards the downtrodden Cole you murmured, “Quite a heavy list of sins to atone for, some mortal. As judge, jury, and executioner, I want you to beg me on why I should suck such a pretty cock from the most tainted Kingsguard,” you grabbed his throat and hissed, “I want you to mean it.”

You shoved him away and lay on your belly, waiting for the spectacle. Criston regained his composure and grit his jaw before hoarsely begging, “I know I’m disgusting. But I want you more than anything.” He got down on his arms, a devout praying position, hands clasped.

“I may be tainted but my…affections for you are rooted deeper than anything. You take me away from my mind. You’re a fucking goddess among mortals. Nothing like that conniving cunt on Dragonstone. You never let me hope or dream. Just give me what I deserve,” his voice cracked, “Penance.”

“I’ll burn down everything, throw myself from the parapets just to smell your divine cunt. I want your lips so bad, fuck, I think about them and have to stop what I’m doing. I can’t get off without thinking of how godsdamned perfect you are princess,” he whined, “I’ll bust right here thinking about how warm your cunt is around me. Please, please, suck it. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ve promised myself to you every day tenfold. I serve my goddess.”

Your sat transfixed by his raw admission. Your pussy had somehow leaked onto the stone. He was so desperate, needy, broken. Your perfect dog. Unconditional. Criston softly added, “I’ll make my cloak turn grey with rot if you ask of me. Please, oh gods, I need you my princess.” You reached out to thumb away a tear, thoroughly sated with his behavior.

“You’re forgiven. My favorite tainted warrior. Lay back, let me take care of you,” you murmured while crawling between his thighs. Criston’s face was pinched in agony as you untied his breeches, pulling his painfully swollen cock out. You yanked down just enough to get at his full sac. The knight’s head fell back, curls bouncing as he mournfully moaned, “I’ll never be forgiven.”

“Probably not dear. Focus on my mouth.”

You enveloped the thick tip, swiping your tongue across his slit, other hand pulling down the loose skin. Criston’s flat belly tensed and he gasped your name. You easily bobbed your way down to the hilt, nosing along his wiry curls. He stared down at you in a mix of awe, wonder, and disgust. You keep him deep in your throat, swallowing and humming before pulling up to attack the tip again.

The knight swore, back arching when you massaged his heavy sac with a spit covered palm, thumbing the seam. Back down you went with a wet noise, fingers slipping down to your cunt. Criston gasped and begged, “No, no, no, please, let me eat your pretty pussy after? I’ll do anything!”

You smirked around his length, tapping once for a ‘yes’ on his hip. He moaned, “Thank you princess, goddess, perfection. I’ll do- Ah! Anything!” You hummed around his cock some more, spit flying as you worked him from root to tip in expert fashion. The brunette squirmed around, thinly moaning and whimpering your name. His fingers dug into the floor, his hair, the shirt.

“Please let me cum my princess— mmmm- wherever you want me to!”

Pulling off his twitchy cock you garbled, “On my tits, don’t want your twisted seed in me.” Criston sighed as you returned to the job at hand: milking him dry. The hand firm on his sack trickled back to that damp loose skin. You dug your thumb in, hard, and sucked him up rough. Criston bit down on his fist to shut up, painting your tits and belly in white streaks. He babbled nonsense, more pleas, more compliments. You disinterestedly rubbed his thigh. Pathetic little man.

Couldn’t help but appreciate the Dornish. Criston warbled, “Can I now?” You smiled and spread your thighs, fingers tight in his locks as you cooed, “Yes, being my best dog. Lap up.”

[emimillerart]

Bitter

A little short story I wrote for a competition once. If our emotions manifested as blooms and vines, what would suppressing them do?

--

Petals brim bitter and sharp in my throat. I choke them back as I watch her.

Elena.

She floats through the garden. Wildflowers strain close to kiss her tawny skin. Wisteria catches on the breeze, settling in her charcoal hair. Little lilac sailboats on the waves of her tresses.

She laughs: widely, recklessly, and the roses and lavender that foam at her lips and sprout from her veins tumble around her. When she cups her palms, white orchids unfold their wings and flutter gently. She throws me a smile, and I drink deep of her brown eyes.

“I could die happy here.” Even her voice is a song.

“What, in Nana’s garden?” I get to my feet, brushing dirt off the back of my jeans.

“You know what I mean.”

And I sort of do. The way the garden is, with tall trees and a proud fence hiding it from the world. Tui song and the hush of wind through leaves drowns out the hum of cars along Sturges Road.

Elena likes that. Being hidden, enclosed, but with the endless blue sky above. God knows the plants love her for it. A jealous green tendril writhes up my throat. I clench at it, and it withers back to seed.

When I approach her through the long grass, the dry stalks and crawling things shy away from me. Call me Moses, I guess. I snatch up a big dandelion, snap its stalk. Clear blood sticks to my fingers, and with a satisfied grin I blow its babies away.

Elena frowns at me when I do this. Fight against it, I mean. Nature. Us. I blow some of the little dandelion seeds in her face. They cling to her like snowflakes.

“Tillie, why do you hate the garden so much?”

“I don’t hate it.”

She brushes the limp strands of dirty blond hair out of my face, and I hate the way her touch makes my blood sing. She tucks one of her orchids behind my ear.

“It’s scared of you.”

I crush the dandelion stem between my fingers. “Maybe it should be.”

The sap stinks, crowds bitter and sharp in my nose. I turn abruptly and head for the winding path that leads back to the house. Since Nana moved to the hospice, I’ve been in charge of looking out for the garden. Under her wrinkled fingers it thrived, green and happy and full of life.

It’s doing alright by itself. It is. I only come out here when Elena is over, when the blossoms open and the trees hum, and the grass swirls around in a gentle dance. When it’s just me, it sits static and solemn.

Arms slip around my waist, and she presses up against my back.

“You’ve stopped talking to me,” she whispers, her breath perfume against my neck.

Suddenly it’s too much. How warm she is, how soft and comforting, and so damn at peace with everything. I squirm, trying to get out of her grip. Vines and leaves and creeping things in my veins are bursting to escape—

I clamp my teeth shut, petals and flower buds cluttering my jaw and tongue like bile. Elena feels my discomfort and lets go. The air kisses cold in the absence of her.

“You can’t just keep everything in. You need to talk, Tillie. About your Nana, about anything—”

I can hear the tears in her words, but I can’t spit a rebuttal around the flowers crowding my mouth. I open the distance between us, and it’s the maw of some monster I’m terrified will swallow me whole.

I hate myself when she cries.

#

Elena stops coming round. The garden begins to wilt, shrinking away in splintered yellow stalks. I stand in the kitchen, by the big window framed with empty herb planters, and watch the flowers die. They curl up on themselves like paper caught in a flame.

My phone lights up, buzzing viciously until it nearly falls off the counter. I glance at Mum’s profile pic — she’s using a dumb filter that puts butterflies around her head — then reject the call.

I yank the yellow cotton and lace curtains closed. The fabric reminds me of Elena’s favourite dress.

It comes again. That itching and writhing in my veins, heat and spark of anger, and the only way it wants to get out: tiger lilies and birds-of-paradise, spiking through my throat and clawing against my cheeks.

I scratch Elena out of my mind, and the flowers pull away, dormant. It’s easier to be like barren soil. Like the yellow clay I would dig up in the backyard as a kid. Cold and predictable.

#

Fixing mistakes feels better in the moonlight.

Soil clings to my fingers, gets into all the cracks and crevices, that rusty smell of damp earth. The flowers are all gone, the wisteria withered and brown. I scoop out a hole, set the tiny sprout inside. A zebrina. The boy behind the counter said it was the easiest to grow. Impossible to kill.

Grey slants of moonlight glint off the skeletal remnants of the garden around me. I think of Nana, and guilt twists my heart so abruptly I don’t stop the petals in time. I slap a hand over my mouth, vines and tendrils trying to force their way through the slits between my fingers.

Breathe.

Breathe again.

My heart hammers, but my breathing slows. Traitorous petals retreat.

#

I take to roaming the streets in the evenings, drawn to the warm glow and tinkling laughter of the pubs in town. Floral perfume clogs the air, mingling with stale beer and cigarette smoke. It sticks in my throat like tar.

Sometimes they look askance at me. My hoodie is stained from the Chinese takeaway I had two days ago, my white keds splattered black with soil.

I pretend I’m waiting for someone, mindlessly tapping on my phone, clutching a tote bag to my side. They soon forget I’m there, Guinness easing the laughter from their throats. With flirting and joy and dreaded emotion comes fronds and leaves and flower buds.

When they’re not looking I scrabble to pick up the cuttings from the ground, concrete wet from rain scraping my knuckles. I shove it all into my bag.

When I have enough I skulk away, back up the hill, my hood pulled tight over my head. Nana’s house sits squat at the end of the drive, the hedges of the garden leafless and brown, lined in silver from the security light. Tenuous excitement builds in my chest. I can fix it. She’ll talk to me again.

The trellis gate creaks on its hinges, the neighbour’s dog half-heartedly barking at the noise. With an erratic wildness I pull up all the seedlings that failed to take, all shrivelled up and brown like dead worms on the pavement after a summer rainfall. That Plant Barn kid was such a liar.

The stolen flowers go into the graves the dead ones left behind. It should work. They’re different, the plants that come from us. For once, the dirt feels good under my nails. Warm and full of promise.

#

The flowers are still there the next day. Their leaves pucker open, the blossoms waving back and forth, searching. Another sunshower glitters across the lawn, and for once I leave the kitchen curtains open.

The happiness building in my chest threatens to splinter and take root. I turn away from the window, rubbing a shaking hand across my chest, and pull my phone out. The red notification bubble on my messenger app sends a shiver of cold anxiety down my spine. I scroll through, my eyes glazing over the messages, watching the unread count spool down.

A few from me to Elena, before I stopped trying. We called our chat ‘dumb ATLA stans’. I hesitate with my thumb over the Delete Chat button. It’s a ghost of her, like the garden and the curtains and her perfume that still clings to my old sweaters.

I tap out of the app without deleting the messages, setting the phone face-down on the counter. Mum has been threatening to come by, and though the garden is a shadow of itself I let a small bud of contentment grow in my belly. I don’t need Elena to coax beauty from the garden. I’ve done it alone.

#

It only takes a week before the stolen flowers die. Perhaps they knew they weren’t supposed to be there, in a garden not of their blood. Tomorrow Mum’ll come over, fussing over my thrifted clothes and trying to flog off her unwanted eyeshadow palettes to me. I won’t be able to hide the garden from her.

I sit on the old blue bench beneath the pohutukawa tree. The faded paint is the only colourful thing left, splattered in red needle blossoms. Moonlight slashes silver over dead grass. A sea of shattered mirrors. I can’t sleep. If I sleep, the morning will come sooner.

My phone is on 5%, but I scroll through my social feeds anyway, the bright screen drowning the garden into inky blackness. I land on a picture of Elena, and my heart stutters in my mouth. She hasn’t blocked me.

She’s up on a mountain somewhere, the sea behind her a pale, insignificant ribbon. The golden evening glow lights up her olive skin, and she’s smiling big and bright, a knee pulled up under her chin, the breeze teasing out strands of her hair. Jasmine blossoms fall about her like rain.

It always was that way. Her: sunshine and ease and gold. Me: still and calm and blue. She said I was the ocean, depthless and unknowable. It’s clear now; I was the one holding her under, drowning her light.

My phone shuts down. I blink a few times, the pink rectangle afterimage of the screen floating across my vision. An inverse portrait of her. She fades, and the garden returns, barren as a graveyard.

My chest burns. I curl my fists so hard my fingernails break skin. Jaw clenched, breath rolling over in sharp, shuddering gasps. My heart hammers a warning, but I can’t stop. I can’t keep holding everything back.

Dawn bleeds pink over the horizon, and I finally let myself cry. For Elena. For Nana. For whoever else I trod over like they were weeds. My tears are hot and salty, and I can’t stop them. I won’t stop them. Flowers burst between my teeth.

I surrender.

Succumb to the petals unfurling and choking my nostrils with their perfume. Jasmine and orange blossom, lilies and buttercups. I grasp my hair in my hands, my sobs choked and stuttering around the vines I want to gnash at with my teeth. But I don’t. Not this time.

#

I wake to the sound of hammering on the front door. With a start, I jerk upright, blossoms scattering from my lap to the ground. Mum is going to kill me. The grind and clunk of the spare key in the lock. She’s going to see the garden—

The garden—

I try to blink the dream from my eyes. Life. Lush green, peppering of bright wildflowers. The wisteria blooming. Honeybees bobbing in and out of the blossoms.

It’s not exactly the same as Nana had it. There’s more yellow, all sunflowers and daffodils and marigolds. Mum’s calling my name, her voice distant as though underwater. My bare feet press into the grass, and for once, I don’t mind how it pricks my soft skin.

The wildflowers shift, wavering for a moment. Unsure. I offer a hesitant smile, and gently brush my hand through the stalks. Like wind skimming across a lake, the flowers bend toward me.

I laugh, truly and deeply and recklessly, and scatter orchids from my palms.