#told you I'm indecisive

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Help me choose a colour for a new front door!

Photos below (ignore the dusty tiles).

To be honest, I think all could work and so it might come down to a difference in cost, but I keep changing my mind on my favourite.

[thedawningofthehour]

This sucks because I was planning to change Gale's battle outfit after the next chapter...but I feel like it's too iconic to change now. He looks too cool.

[koldunia]

.

[luveline]

we know that the criminal minds writers looooved hurting spencer but i would love to see bau!reader (bombshell!reader if you think it would fit) hurt and spencer losing his mind a little (ofc everything would end up being okay because we love fluff in this house 💗)! thank youuu <333

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1k

“Spencer, are you coming in?” 

The boy in question winces, the cellophane wrapped stems in his hand strangled by an anxious grip. Your voice is hoarse, quieter than usual, though that could be attributed to the thick wooden door between you both. He takes the door handle in his hand, readjusts his fingers, can't quite get himself to go in. 

“Spence,” you say, missing your usual cheer. “Please come in.” 

He opens the door slowly. It weighs a hundred pounds, each inch heavier than the last. 

You're propped up on the movable bed with a dinner table over your legs. Someone's brought you contraband, it seems, expensive soup from the fancy restaurant you like just outside of work. Next to it lies your phone, your chapstick, and a prescription bottle. The orange of it is too glaring to look at for long. 

“Nice to see you finally, heart-throb,” you say, sitting back, rolling your shoulders as you smile. “Where've you been?” 

Sapped by terror in the waiting room, mostly. “Sorry,” he says, offering no explanation. You deserve one, but he can't get the words out. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shot at.” 

“Is it bad?” 

Your eyes soften. “No. Wanna see it?” 

He does in an awful way. To alleviate his panic, sure, but to know what it did. To see what his stupidity resulted in. The unforgivable in stark scarring. 

You lift your shirt and shift your soft bralette up a touch to show him the wound and all its grim stitches. “It almost missed me. Guess I'm not as lucky as I think.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not right now. They told me not to wear wire bras for a while, so you win some, you lose some.” You let your shirt fall back into place. He can see the indecision in your eyes. Not one for hiding like he wants to, you address the elephant in the room. “Now you've seen it's not so bad, can you look at me again?” 

“I'm looking at you.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

The thing is, Spencer doesn't, not really. Half the time you act like you're sharing a secret with him but he doesn't have a clue what you're talking about, and the intimacy is lost, and it's his fault. He's never been good or smooth or charismatic, he's never deserved your attention, and it's his fault you're here, hurting, his fault you'd been prone on the ground, his fault Morgan had to hold your side closed, his fault you almost died. 

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you know I don't blame you.” 

Of course he knows that. 

“You should,” he says tightly. He doesn't mean to get angry. 

“Well, I don't. So give me my flowers and sit down.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. He's mad, but he gives you the flowers without any roughness, and you take them with a similarly thin thank you. 

Your reunion isn't going how either of you wants it to, it seems. 

Spencer sits in the chair next to your bed as you pick between the petals, admiring their colours, their softness. For a moment you're peaceful, but you close your eyes and press your nose gently to a small bud, and you ask, “Why are you acting like this?” Heartbroken. 

He could explain it in halves. You passed out in the back of the ambulance. Your surgery had unexpected complications. Hotch was so angry, and he still wasn't as mad at Spencer as Spencer was at himself. 

Seeing you hurt because of his mistake isn't a feeling he thinks he'll survive a second time.

“I don't get why you like me,” Spencer admits. “Not before, and especially not now. You should be pissed. This,” —he gestures to you quickly— “is my fault.” 

“It's not your fault, Spence.” 

“What would you call it?” 

You put your flowers down and stare at your lap. He's pushed you too far. Nice, he thinks to himself scathingly, to upset you in your sick bed, that's exactly what he should be doing to make it up to. Great going, Spencer. 

“Will you hold my hand?” you ask quietly. 

He hesitates, his heart skipping a beat like a missed step down the stairs. 

“Please? I just… this has been a lot. I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty, I swear, but it's been a lot. And so many times I wished someone was here. I wished you were here.” You turn your head away from him. “I thought you were mad at me. I'm still worried.” 

Spencer stands up. He feels every stretch of muscle as he does it. You raise your eyes to his, holding out your hands; you know him better than anyone else, he thinks. He overcompensates every time. 

“I'm sorry,” he says, crossing his arms behind your shoulders carefully. 

“I told you it's not your fault.” 

“For not being here to hold your hand.” 

Your hand curls in the front of his shirt. 

“M'not mad. Not even slightly. I mean, not at you…” He rubs your back with his thumb. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“What was I supposed to think?” 

He presses his nose to your temple, eyes squeezed close in regret. “...You're right.” 

This is what he should've done the moment you woke up. Instead, he let his mind focus on detail, what flowers demarcates remorse, or if cellophane wrapping would be an imposition. Anything to forget how your hands shook as the adrenaline wore off. 

They're steady now as they wrap around his sides to rest at the small of his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, lips touching to your skin with each syllable, like fractions of kisses. 

“I missed you, handsome. Please– don't do that again.” 

He rubs your back. “I won't,” he promises. “I'll be here as long as you want me to be.” 

“Forever, then.” 

For once, your flirting doesn't make him blush. 

[bifflesnitch]

The late diagnosed neurodivergent experience of being told you're wrong your entire fucking life.

You're too sensitive,

it's not too loud,

it's not too bright,

it's not overwhelming,

you're just overreacting,

it doesn't smell weird,

the texture is fine,

just eat it,

just wear it,

plans change get over it,

stop being so dramatic,

why are you so argumentative?

I was obviously joking,

why do you take everything so seriously?

I'm not yelling,

It's not a big deal,

stop nitpicking,

stop jiggling/rocking,

stop fidgeting,

stop humming/whistling/clicking,

stop talking about that,

no one cares,

you're annoying people,

you're so high strung,

just relax,

stop worrying,

stop overthinking,

just be normal

and then people act all surprised that you grow up to be an insecure, indecisive wreck. What else did you expect me to be when you spent my whole life teaching me my own perception was faulty and couldn't be trusted?

Grooming me to seek approval and validation from others for every decision I made because whenever I made them myself, they were always wrong.

[justliketoreadsowhat]

Princess Treatment ✬

✰ 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 ✰

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

"Show Me What Color You're Wearing Again" your voice echoing through the phone speakers.

Paige huffed at your question, fixing the color of her burnt orange button-up. She had been ready to go 30 minutes ago, yet your indecisiveness slowed down the process of her leaving out the door.

"If you want me to change just say that" Her face scrunched up, beaming through your phone screen propped up on your vanity.

"No! don't be such a teenager, I just want to make sure our colors match" color coordination was important to you, especially for a day like this. It had been 3 weeks too long since you two last saw each other. The words "summer break" meant the complete opposite for Paige, her schedule was overly hectic, to say the least, you couldn't recall the last time she stayed in one place for more than 24 hours.

"Awh baby you wanna match with me?! I feel so honored" she teased, twirling the lonesome braid stitched in the front of her hair.

"You've been influenced by KK way too much, don't ever do that again please" The feeling of cringe shivered down your spine.

Throwing her hands up in self-defense "It's whatever you want to make of it, just be ready when I get there" Hanging up quickly you were left to hassle with your thoughts

Ready for what exactly ?

You had no clue

The only information you were given was, to be dressed in nice attire within the next hour, although that was never enough time for you.

No complaints would slip from your mouth though, being tucked away in your condo all alone for weeks drained the life out of you, it felt as if the days were all mushing together, repeating in an endless loop.

You were desperate for a change.

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

Swinging open the door, you were met with Paige dressed in all her glory, before you could analyze any further, your body flung towards her with an overlying feeling of excitement.

With arms naturally wrapped around your waist like a 2nd nature, every inch fit so perfectly.

"I missed you so much" Your voice trembled with emotion, taking in her aroma of sweet mahogany and amber. You felt her chuckle against your skin "I missed you more princess"

Releasing her from your death grip, you stepped back revealing the now flattened bouquet of flowers. Trying to stifle her laughter "Yeah um.. these were for you but don't worry bout it I'll get you some more" fiddling with the petals trying to make them look alive again.

Taking them into your grasp shaking your head "No it's okay, they're still beautiful" Looking up at her, your eyes met evenly, too evenly.

Breaking eye contact Paige glanced down at your orange heels that matched her outfit perfectly, "I knew something was off, no way you're ever getting past 5'5"

"So you can make fun of my height, but when I tell you you're not 6ft it's a problem" tilting your head, arms crossed instantly waiting for her rebuttal.

"Lying in my face is insane, I'm actually 6'1 so ion wanna hear nothing!" putting up her "talk to the hand" notion. it was good to see her sassiness never left after all this time.

"Let's get going before the sun goes down" taking your hand gently placing it in hers.

"What's so important about the sun?"

"it makes life possible on earth"

"Paige!"

She laughed at her own antics "Just come on and you'll see" opening the car door for you, pulling down the seat to buckle you in. No matter how many times you told her you could do these simple tasks on your own, she insisted every chance she got. Deep down you loved it but she would never get that confession out of you, ever.

"Can I at least get a hint of where we're going"

"Nah, that would ruin the surprise. Just sit back and look pretty" Her hand patted your thigh "Here you can even play your own music" Pressing the Bluetooth button on the screen display.

Your eyes widened "Oh this must be serious, I never though I'd see the day you let me have the aux"

Paige was very serious when it came to her music, it was like touching a thermostat in someone's house, don't ever touch or change it.

"Alright just don't do too much and play that sappy shit" her eyes adverted to you "You know what I'm talking about"

"You're my biggest hater"

"At least you know I'm the biggest" a smug smirk plastered at her face.

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

After a smooth 20-minute drive, pulling into an empty parking lot accompanied by a movie theater, but not just any movie theater. This is where you and Paige first met 5 years ago. Dating all the way back to late 2019.

Hopkins high school girls basketball team decided to take a trip to see the new movie "Us" on a cool Thursday night before they played their next opponent the following Friday.

You on the other hand had picked up a quick shift that night as a ticket holder. The night was slow until the entire in swarmed in gathering around the glass you stood behind.

Nobody caught your eye except Paige. She was talkative, very talkative. She sweet-talked you so well, the entire team got in for free.

She promised she'd make it up to you, 5 years later it's safe to say she did just that.

Surrounded by hundreds of fairy lights and different variations of flowers, roses, tulips, lilies, you name it. The sun shined on them perfectly projecting their vibrant colors.

Parking the car swiftly, you looked at her, tears threatening to form in your eyes. She quickly noticed, swiping a tear that had begun to fall. "Baby don't cry, we haven't even done anything yet" she pleaded, hopeful you'd abide.

"I know but, it's just so beautiful" you sniffled, glancing out the window once more. Eagerly you unhooked your seatbelt wanting to emerge into the theater, before you could open the door Paige grabbed your wrist "Don't even think about it"

Opening the door your feet planted on the ground, following behind her, constantly looking down at the red rose-petal path that led you through the double doors of the theater.

Nobody else was in sight, besides the two of you.

"Where is everybody?" you questioned noticing how bare the concessions were.

She smirked grabbing a bag of popcorn freely "Ion know, probably at home"

There was no way to legally walk into an establishment unless you owned it, or in Paige's case, rented it out. Her humble traits would never allow her to admit her actions, especially when it came to money.

"Come on I already got your snacks for you, the movie is about to start" holding up an assortment of candy and your extra-large slushy you never end up finishing.

"What movie is it!?" your eyes searching at all the advertised posters of the new releases, there was entirely too many to count.

"Just come onn" she dragged, moving quickly down the empty rows of theaters. Following in her pursuit, the sound or your heels echoed through the hallow hallway, turning a corner Piage disappeared into a theater that glowed with a purple ambiance.

Slowly walking up the ramp to keep up with her, the purple glow became brighter, the lights beamed a deep purple, the screen displayed the Disney Pixar introduction you memorized all too well.

"The Princess and the Frog"

"My favorite!!" gushing with excitement you found yourself nearly toppling over your girlfriend. "i never seen this on the big screen before, how'd did you do all this?.. and the- the purple lights it's so beautiful"

She laughed softly at your reaction, stroking your hand in small circles motion "It's only right I do something special for my special girl"

"You're so cornyyy" you laughed pulling her into a sweet kiss. Pulling away her demeanor switched, becoming slightly nervous. "You okay? if you're gonna complain about my lipgloss again I'll change it"

Paige shook her head "No no it's not that" Fumbling through her deep pockets, pulling out a purple heart-shaped velour box "I got you something, so when I'm away you''ll have something to keep with you" her tone soft as she placed the box in my hand.

You swore she could hear your heart pounding out of your chest if it wasn't for the movie beginning to play through the ceramic speakers. Without wasting a second more you opened the box, revealing a ring engraved in a crown, with purple diamonds in each curve, leaf-shaped, just like your favorite Disney Princess.

In awe you looked up at Paige, tears now falling freely, "This is beautiful Paige, I don't even know what to say" you choked.

Wiping your tears with her thumb, she lifted up her other hand revealing a ring placed on her thumb nearly identical to yours, crown-shaped fairly different with a lighter purple tint of diamonds in each wedge. "Every princess needs her prince right?"

Right

[emphistic]

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐀/𝐍: thank you all for more than 505 followers (see what i did there with the song?) have this as a token of my gratitude (this is superr long overdue, mb you guys)

𝐖/𝐂: around 2500

“Why? Why, Sukuna? Why the hell did you not pull away?” You failed to keep your voice down.

“Baby, please. Trust me, she flung herself on me. I–”

“So you didn't push her off?”

Sukuna raked his fingers through his hair, clearly exasperated and struggling to find the words to answer you. “Look — the last time I did that I almost got arrested for assault. And guess what? You yelled at me for that, too. You said, ‘Why would you do that? You couldn't have just told her to get off?’ So really, what did you want me to do this time?”

You covered your mouth to stifle your sobs, at this point, your mascara was completely ruined, running down your cheeks. “Okay, okay, I get it. I'm wrong, you're right.”

But I crumble completely when you cry

Sukuna turned away from you, scratching his neck. Your mascara was smudged along your cheeks, your tears dampening your eyelashes. He couldn't bear seeing you like this, not when he was the cause. Was it cruel of him to say, to believe, to think, that you were most beautiful this way?

“That wasn't my point, and you know that. You know that damn well, sweetheart.” Sukuna said — after a moment of silence — and turned back to face you, albeit he hesitated before meeting your glossy eyes.

“Then what was it? What was it, Sukuna? Tell me. Enlighten me.” You frantically wiped away your tears as they fell, and though desperate as you were, you were still too slow.

“. . .” Sukuna stared down at you with a stoic expression painted on his face. His gaze remained unwavering, though yours flickered throughout the room, seemingly unable to face him properly. If he knew better, he would realize it was only because you would start bawling immediately after meeting his crimson eyes.

It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

“Fine!” You threw your arms up, utterly defeated. You had no time for Sukuna's games. “Be that way; go have fun with all your other girls!” You stomped away, but decided — in the moment — to turn around for a second just to flip the pink-haired man off. “Burn in Hell, Sukuna, for all I care. I don't want to see your stupid, stupid face ever again.”

Sukuna sighed, his eyes burned holes into the back of your dress as you left him standing there. Standing there with nothing but his thoughts, dreams, and regrets. Standing there in the club alleyway. The same club alleyway that you pulled him away to so you could yell at him.

But it didn't feel like the same club alleyway, because Something was missing. Something very dear to him — but he was no better than a man.

I'm always just about to go and spoil the surprise

He was no better than a man. He didn't have the courage. He didn't have the brains. He didn't have the wit. He didn't have the assets. He didn't have anything that he had had with you. Not anymore, at least.

Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

He didn't have anything, because you were his everything. You were his light. His match. His flame. He didn't know what his point was. He didn't know. He didn't know. Because alas, he was no better than just a man. A man helplessly in love — with you.

So what would a man — helplessly in love with you — do? Perhaps he would visit your favorite jewelry brand and buy you an exquisite necklace. Maybe he would stop by a florist's shop and get you flowers. Or he could get you a baked good from the local bakery you like so much. And so, Sukuna — possibly being the most indecisive man alive — did all three of those things.

He purchased you a glimmering diamond necklace, a bouquet made up of your favorite flowers, and a cake of your favorite flavor.

Now, Sukuna was never a nervous nor self-doubting man, that was until he met you. He gets butterflies at the thought of you, though he'd never admit that. What could he say? He loved your laugh, the way your eyes crinkle as you do, your smile, your habit of tucking your hair behind your ear, your meticulousness when choosing earrings to match your outfit, your eyes — especially when they appeared to almost be glittering, he loved everything about you. But most importantly. . . He loved you. And that is why he sits in the driver's seat of his car, with his head in his hands and his back hunched over in thought.

He messed up. He messed up bad. And now he had to clean up the mess.

Fifteen minutes prior, his younger twin brother — Yuuji — had given him a pep talk, hyping him up. Yuuji knew how much you had helped Sukuna. He remembered the way Sukuna appeared happier, as if 100 pounds had been lifted off his shoulders — not that he would have any trouble carrying that weight — when Sukuna came home from your first date together. Yuuji saw the difference in Sukuna from that day on. Yuuji saw, Yuuji heard, and Yuuji felt the difference.

Albeit the younger twin could be a bit . . . dull, at times, Yuuji knew that you were what Sukuna needed most. If you had affected Sukuna so greatly when you came into his life, just think about the effects that would take place if you two separated. Yuuji got chills just thinking of that, which was why he was so desperate for his older brother to just rip off the bandaid, set his ego aside, and make amends.

I'm going back to 505

Sukuna was going back. He was going back to you . . . even if it was the last thing he would do. He finally raised his head from his hands and started the car. He was going to see you, apologize and explain how stupid he was being, and he was going to give you all the gifts he purchased. If his words couldn't satisfy you, he was going to spend the rest of his life proving himself to you with his credit card.

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

The drive to your apartment from his penthouse was only 3/4s of an hour, though it felt much longer as his dread grew and grew. It didn't matter how long, how far, how dangerous, the journey — he would always go back to his girl.

His girl.

That's what you were. That's what you are. That's what you will be — for as long as Sukuna lives. He would make sure of that.

The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

But it didn't feel that way, certainly not when you opened the door with a frown on your face that only deepened as you immediately moved to close the door upon seeing the pink spikes of Sukuna’s hair. But he was already two steps ahead of you. He — already expecting that reaction — had quickly blocked you from closing the door by sticking his foot out between the door.

Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark

“Sukuna. Didn't I tell you to never—!”

“Baby, please. Hear me out — for just a second.” Sukuna's lips were dry, his throat parched.

“Fine.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, he would've missed it if he was not as desperate as he was now.

Three days. It had been three days since you two had last spoken, in that damned alleyway. Three days of plain torture. Three days of sleepless nights. Three days without you. Three days of Hell.

God, he was so glad to hear your voice again; it was like music to his ears.

The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start

You slowly pulled the door back and took a step backward, silently giving Sukuna your consent for him to enter. However, he didn't feel deserving of it, so he stayed in his position.

“Look, this is probably a waste of your time—”

“It is.”

He shoved the gifts into your hands.

“Oh? What's this?” You raised a brow, digging your hand through the bags to investigate, but Sukuna cleared his throat and you met his eyes.

“I want to apologize, for what I said and for how I acted. I'm really, really sorry. You know I'm not the best with these kinds of things, but, I really am. Believe me. And . . . I wasn't in the right state of mind, I was already a few drinks in — y’know that — and I know that's not an excuse but, I just. . . I'm sorry, okay? I haven't slept a wink since you left. And I was a fucking coward: I should've done this earlier but I didn't. So—please, forgive me.”

You didn't say anything, averting your gaze to the ground at your feet, and still processing his words. You mulled over what he had said in your head.

“Say something. Anything. Please.” Sukuna was so close to getting on his hands and knees that it was almost embarrassing.

“Sukuna, I don't know what to tell you. I believe you're sorry but I. . . I'm not ready to forgive you, not yet. It's just a lot, y’know? I mean, if you were in my shoes right now, you would feel the same way—”

“That's why I'm apologizing.” Sukuna cut you off, his desperation quickly turning into agitation.

“Yes, I get that, but . . . I'm just not ready to forgive you yet. I'm not ready to just push this aside and move on. I'm not . . . ready — for any of that.” Your eyes softened, as did your tone.

Despite his desperate pleads, you couldn't bring yourself to just forget the whole ordeal and why he was apologizing in the first place. But Sukuna was no better than a man. He had no clue why you felt this way. The only thing he's known in life was to move on. That's what he does and will do. That's why he is the way he is. That's why.

“Do you even want this relationship to last? Can't you see I'm trying to fix this problem?”

“I do, Sukuna. I really do. Couples fight and have arguments. It's normal. It's what we're doing right now. But just because it's normal doesn't mean I'm going to brush it aside as if it didn't happen.”

“Are you out of your—!? Do you have any idea how many girls would like to be in your spot right now? Do you have ANY idea?” By now, Sukuna had completely lost it. He was frustrated, so frustrated. He didn't understand what more you wanted from him.

“I—Sukuna, what?”

“Have you any idea? Any idea at all?”

You would be lying if you said you weren't scared, utterly afraid of the man standing before you right now. For you could see nothing past his eyes, no love, no care, nothing. Only the deep, rich crimson color that you once loved and held so dear to your heart.

“You know what? Good for you. Good for you that you have so many other better options but you chose me. Good. For. You. I guess you don't need me anymore. Goodbye, Sukuna.”

You slammed the door [shut] in Sukuna's face, falling with your back against it seconds later and bringing your knees to your chest. The waterworks started soon after and Sukuna could hear your quiet sobs from beyond the door.

He was dumbfounded, absolutely appalled. Did he really just say that to you? Sukuna knew he was not the brightest, but, damn, he's really done it this time.

Sukuna ran his fingers through his hair, now sitting in his car. He definitely did not mean to say what he said. In fact, he didn't even know how it slipped out. One second he was basically on his knees for you and the next, he . . . wasn't. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? He thought. He continued to sit there, reflecting on his actions and words. But he still couldn't believe it. What the fuck just happened?

He came to your apartment hoping to salvage the remnants of your guys' relationship, but he ended up ruining it — forever. Sukuna was 100% sure this was the worst fuckup in the history of mankind.

But he couldn't just leave it like this. He could still fix this, right? Alas, Sukuna had lost all hope; he lost his mind; and he lost the love of his life.

“Shit,” Sukuna muttered. He had really lost it, he thought, as he walked back to your apartment door. He had really lost it, he thought, when he spared a glance at your apartment number.

I'm going back to 505

That was the whole point of this, right? He was going back — no matter what, right?

When you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

He had really lost it, he thought, when he saw your glossy — yet still absolutely mesmerizing eyes after reluctantly answering the door, waiting for Sukuna to say something, anything. Anything at all. But he didn't. He didn't say anything at all. He had really lost it, he thought, when he pulled you in for the most zealous kiss he had ever experienced that left you gasping for air. His lips slotted against yours, moving fervently simultaneously. Albeit, he pulled away rather quickly — afraid of what he had just done.

I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Mere seconds after Sukuna pulled back, you moved your hand so quickly — that Sukuna didn't even notice at first — and slapped him. Hard. You slapped him hard as fuck. But then you did something that surprised the pink-haired man even more. You embraced him in a hug, and a tight one at that.

“Hug me back, dumbass.” You quipped.

Or I did last time I checked

“You just slapped me.” He hugged you back, nevertheless, wrapping his arms around your figure. Because, he had to admit, it was kinda hot [getting slapped].

“Duh. ‘Cause you're such a loser.”

A pause of silence occured, before Sukuna spoke up.

“I didn't mean what I said,” Sukuna murmured against your hair. He had longed for this moment. God, you made him so soft sometimes.

“I know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“I missed you.”

“You never stop talking, do you.”

“To you? Never.”

I'm going back to 505

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side

With your hands between your thighs and a smile

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius

[moonstruckme]

I went out with my friends yesterday cuz one of them threw a party and it was so much fun but omfg I'm so violently hung over can I pls get a fic with any of the boys and a hungover reader them just cuddling her but also being like I told u not to have that last drink....3 drinks ago

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of alcohol, hangover

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 443 words

Peter wants so badly to be noisy and obnoxious, but he’s quiet because he loves you. 

“Hey, bub,” he says near a whisper, crawling up beside you on the bed. “I think it’s probably time to wake up, don’t you?” 

Despite his best efforts with the blinds, insistent threads of golden afternoon light sneak in through the cracks, and you turn your face into the pillow as you moan. 

“Aw, I know.” Peter’s unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, pulling down the covers to rub between your shoulder blades. “My poor girl. Who did this to you, huh?” 

Your reply is muffled by both pillow and lethargy. “Shuddup.” 

His laugh comes out for real now. You squirm away from the sound, trying fruitlessly to burrow deeper into your pillow as Peter drops a kiss on your shoulder, bare where his t-shirt has slipped off. 

“I’ve got lukewarm water and painkillers,” he says enticingly. “Breakfast of champions.” 

Your hand emerges from beneath the covers, reaching for them. 

“Uh, no.” Peter poorly contains another chuckle as he leans away from your searching hand. “You’ve got to sit up to have it, sorry.” 

It takes time and effort, Peter helping you with a hand on your back, and when your eyes meet his amusement makes some room for pity. 

“Here you go, baby.” He holds out the water and pills. You rub your eyes before taking them, little flakes of crusted-on makeup falling onto the sheets. “Drink it all,” he says when you stop after the sip it takes to down the painkillers. “You’re dehydrated, that’s why your head hurts.” 

Your mouth puckers distastefully. “I’ll throw up,” you worry. 

“Small sips,” Peter agrees, kissing your shoulder rewardingly when you take another. You’re looking at him now, too, eyes watchful and expression stiff with some kind of indecision. “What is it?” 

You hesitate a second longer before asking, “Can we hug?” 

“Aw-w-w.” It stutters out of him on a laugh, and your face goes pouty as Peter slides his hands around your middle, hugging you sideways and resting his head atop yours. “Course we can, baby. You’re really feeling shitty, huh?” 

You make a pitiful sound, leaning into his touch. 

“Wishing you’d stopped after that fourth drink like I told you to?” 

Now your whine has more bite to it. Peter holds you tighter so you won’t leave, smiling as he kisses your hair. 

“That’s okay, my silly girl. Lucky you’ve got the world’s most forgiving boyfriend to take care of you, huh?” 

“It’d be nice,” you mutter, “if he were the world’s least gloat-y boyfriend too.” 

“Well, we can’t have it all, sweetheart.”

[lilaccmilk]

Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Werewolf?

Pairing: Werewolf Boyfriend x Human!Reader Warnings: idk werewolf? shitty description of shifting into a werewolf. A/N: Now I know I said I'll make an OC, but I'm too indecisive to pick a name. Please send me name ideas for my OC.

You heard the door open and checked the time '11 pm'. You sigh feeling helpless. Your boyfriend has started coming home late, or sometimes staying cooped up in his room refusing to come out. This has been going on for a month, since the camping trip you went to with him and your friends.

Truth be told, at first when he started coming late you felt as if he was doing something behind your back. But his behaviour and mood keeps fluctuating. Sure he becomes aggressive. Very aggressive. But not towards you, god no, he could never be aggressive towards you. Either he's very clingy and needy, or just pulls away from you.

Not only that but he's gotten warmer. His voice has turned more.....deep. And he has a bit of a growl in his voice. He's gotten a bit taller, muscular. His teeth feel like they're sharper. In all honesty, he has started to feel like one of the creatures in a monster fucking blog. But you try to tell yourself that you must be imagining things. Sure you're delusional, but not that delusional.

Today was one of those days where he was feeling clingy towards you. You were lying on the couch, with your boyfriend partially on top of you, his head resting on your chest. When suddenly he looked up at you.

"Hey....love?" he started to speak. "Hmm?"

"I have a question....Would you still love me if i was a w-"

"Worm?" you cut him off with amusement in your eyes.

"Huh? a worm?" He blinked.

"Yeah, weren't you going to ask me if I'd still love you if you were a worm."

"No. What kind of stupid question is that? Wait nevermind. Let me rephrase....what do you think about werewolves?"

You stared at him, your thoughts going haywire ⎯ 'Why did he ask me that? Did he find out about my monster fucking blog? Did he go through my tumblr? Wait is that why he's getting distant.' ⎯ amidst the chaos in your head you managed to croak out "I uh...like to believe they're real. If it's about that werewolf blog I run, it's just fiction...right? Like you know, werewolves don't exist. It's like writing for a fictional character. If it bothers you I'll stop. I should have-" you get cut off by him kissing you.

"I um....well it might sound crazy. So let me show you instead of telling you." He stands up and then closes his eyes. You look at him in anticipation and feel the energy shift in the room, you notice him opening his eyes that have darkened. His bones start to break and stick out in directions they're not meant to stick out. His height grows and he starts snarling. After what feels like an eternity, you're face to face werewolf that is around 7 feet. Well not exactly face to face since he towers over you.

He then shifts back and now you're looking at your very human boyfriend again. You're too awestruck to do or say anything. And then, you squeal. In delight. This catches your boyfriend off-guard and he just tilts his head in confusion. You hug him, full force.

"Does this mean you're fine with me being a werewolf?" he asks tentatively.

"I love you for who you are, not for your appearance. And your werewolf side is still you. I'll always love you." you say with a grin.

"I'm glad I have you. And what was that about writing for werewolves? I'd love to hear about your fantasies love." he says with a teasing grin, but you know he was serious about knowing your fantasies. You're in for a long night.

[williamsracinggf]

✧.* just like dad / ls2 *.✧

little luna sargeant's got her mind set on one thing: she wants to be just like dad when she grows up.

notes: HURRRR THEY WONT TAKE ME OFF SHADOWBAN SO I'M POSTING HERE UNTIL THEY TAKE ME OFF and yes i'm still tagging it under dpm LMFAOOO

“i’m nervous.” logan glances at the sleeping 5-year-old sprawled across the backseat with her koala stuffie covering her face. he sits back again and glances at you, eyes stuck on the road ahead.

you hum and glance over at him, shaking his leg as he twists his body and takes another look at your daughter. “it’s not even your race, babe.”

you hear logan sigh exasperatedly, staring longingly at the snoring kid. “i know it’s her race. but you know,” he trails off, tilting his head slightly.

he doesn’t get nervous about his races anymore. so when the then 4-year-old daughter came up to him after his race in miami talking about how she wanted to register for a karting race this year, he was more than flabbergasted. he remembers looking over at you in shock while you just shrugged and told him, “you heard the lady.”

while you’re not entirely pleased by your daughter’s decision to start karting, you wouldn’t ever dare to be the parent who told her what she can and cannot do. it’s a value that you and logan had discussed earlier in your relationship and something you’ve tried to stick to heavily.

if you have the means to ensure that your daughter can do what her heart desires, then why would you ever deny her?

logan would have preferred for his carbon copy to not subject herself to the brutality of the sport he’s gotten himself into, but he also cannot help the feeling of pride growing in his chest at the thought of his daughter taking after him. there is something so endearing about the way she wants to be just like him — in her words, not his.

“you can always tell her not to race,” you shrug. “no harm in saying no.”

he throws his head back as he gets comfortable in his seat again. “i can’t do that,” he shakes his head, “you saw how excited she was when we signed her up for her classes.”

you laugh. “besides, you’ve got the perfect gift for luna.” you reach over for his leg in the passenger seat, squeezing him as you smile at him. “she’ll love it.”

that’s another thing: the custom helmet that logan had gotten made for luna’s first race ever. your daughter initially only insisted on her own race suit, which you went and got customised together without logan on a weekend he was away for a race.

it wasn’t until little luna had seen one of logan’s helmets on one of your bedroom shelves that she decided she wanted one for herself. but by that point, it never would have made it in time for her first race.

though, logan being the proud dad that he is (and luna being daddy’s little girl), he already had a custom helmet in the works with a much cuter motif. it’s pink and grey with koalas plastered all over it, thanks to oscar’s influence on the little girl during their trip to australia early last year.

“that design was sent in months ago. what if she doesn’t even like pink anymore?”

logan’s concern is valid. the little girl had taken after your indecisiveness, often changing her claims for things that are her favourite every other day. one time she had sobbed for a solid half hour after logan came home with blue raspberry flavoured candy, suddenly claiming that strawberries are actually her favourite flavour of candy.

logan looked at you hopelessly for help, but neither of you had gotten the memo that her blue raspberry obsession was short-lived. he wound up walking out the front door and coming back with a bag full of strawberry-flavoured candies, feeling like the worst dad that he had somehow let it slip his mind what her favourite candy was.

both of you struggled to finish the blue raspberry candy for weeks, having to start giving it away in the paddocks during his next race.

“i’m sure she still likes pink as much as she did yesterday,” you explain, glancing at your daughter through your rearview mirror. “look at her — it looks like the pink panther threw up all over her.”

he looks back at her, almost bursting out in laughter at how right you are. she’s taken the liberty to dress herself in a pink tutu with a random grey shirt, topped off with a bow that held her hair in a ponytail. “are you sure? what if she wakes up and changes her mind?”

your car comes to a slow stop, surrounded by several other cars in the parking lot of the karting track. you turn to logan and sigh as you shake your head. “you’re overthinking this, babe. she’ll love it,” you reach over for his hand, “because it’s from you.”

he raises an eyebrow, staring at you with clear scepticism. being away for weeks at a time didn’t make him feel like a great dad, despite the young girl always clinging to him whenever he was back in town for breaks, always rambling on about how much she missed her dad while he was gone and that she watched his race.

it’s managed to make him feel so disconnected in her life, sometimes even jealous of how much time you’ve gotten to spend with luna as she grew up. he just doesn’t feel like he knows a lot about her, despite him passing the random quizzes from his giggly daughter right before bed.

“are we here?”

logan flinches at the tiny face that’s slotted herself between their seats, clutching his chest while the 2 girls burst into laughter. “you’re sneaky! i didn’t even notice you were awake!”

“the car stopped moving!” luna shrieks, climbing between the two seats to throw herself onto logan. “and i’m excited!”

“of course, you are!” you cheer, reaching over to pat her head. “it’s your first race, isn’t it?”

she turns her head to look at you with a wide smile, her familiar green eyes shining in the sun that hits your car. your genetics hadn’t had a chance against logan’s — the small girl sported identical green eyes and dirty blonde hair, with dimples to complete the mission of being his clone.

“uncle ozzy will be here too, right? with aunty lily?” she scrambles to press her face against the window, hands cupped over her eyes as she scopes out for her parents’ best friends in the crowd outside the car. “what about uncle alex?”

“they promised to be here to watch your race, lu,” logan laughs, peeling her away from the window. he sits his daughter on his lap, leaning back as he enjoys their time in the cold of the car. “i actually got you a present for the race today.”

“a present! where?”

“it’s in the back, but-”

“then let’s go!” luna squirms in her father’s grip, reaching forward to unlock his door. she almost falls out when she opens it, giggling when logan’s grip on her arm refrains her from hitting the ground face first.

she wiggles out of his grasp, logan tiredly looking over his shoulder at you, still sitting peacefully in the driver’s seat. you shrug as you pull down the visor and grab your makeup bag. “you told her about your present. you know how she feels about presents.”

he opens his mouth to shoot back an explanation, but is cut short by his daughter screeching and running back up to his side of the car. “daddy, my present!”

she reaches up for logan’s hand, forcefully pulling him out of the car. he nods, stumbling over himself as he hurriedly reaches back to release his seatbelt and lets her drag him to the trunk of your family car.

“what is it? is it a toy?” she beams, hopping next to logan as he scavages the several bags in the back for the black dustbag that contains her new helmet. “did you get it while you were away?”

“it’s no longer a surprise if i tell you,” logan laughs.

“is it a toy?”

logan shrugs, reappearing with a bag in his hand. luna’s eyes widened at the far larger gift than she had expected. she reaches up for the bag, whining when logan doesn’t immediately give it to her.

“do you want to guess what it is?” he teases, lifting it further out of her grasp.

“no!” she shrieks, now wrapping her arms and legs around her father’s body at an attempt to climb him to get to her promised present. “please, daddy! my present! i wanna see it!”

“how can daddy give you the present when you’re climbing him like a little monkey, my love?” you laugh, coming around the corner to tear her off logan’s body. “are you our little monkey baby?”

you burst into laughter watching the tiny girl screech in response, shaking her head aggressively as she tries to rebuke your accusations.

alas, logan finally gets on his knees to match her height. he holds out the bag to her, grinning when her green eyes stare into his, her body shaking in excitement. “present time?”

she nods, biting down on her lip. “present time.”

she drops to the ground when logan hands it over. she immediately grabs at the bag, tugging it off the helmet and grunts when there’s another layer of paper packaging that shies it away from her prying hands and curious eyes.

when she does get around to it, though, it’s like time stops when she lays eyes on the large drawing of the koala on the top of the helmet. just 3 weeks ago, she had finally come to terms that she wouldn’t have her own custom helmet for her first ever race ( against her best wishes). now here’s a helmet with her name in black at the corner.

she breaks into a mind-curling scream as she jumps to her feet excitedly. she certainly doesn’t notice the eyes heavily staring at your family, but you do, simply shrugging before returning your attention to luna.

“daddy!” she screams, throwing her arms around logan’s neck, knocking him back into the ground. she doesn’t even notice the soft thud when the back of his head hits the car. “it’s pink and there’s a koala! oh, my days!”

you snort at her vocabulary, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t taken george up on the free babysitting in the paddocks whenever you’re there. her vocabulary never fails to shock you, seemingly being the perfect mix of a kid growing up in the uk with a dash of american from her dad’s side of the family.

she pulls away from him, picking the helmet up from the ground and hops on over to you. “look at it, mummy! it’s got a koala on it!”

you feign excitement and shock. logan had consulted you with the design about a month or two ago, asking you for opinions and any additional designs to satisfy his little girl. you’d even seen the helmet just this morning before getting out of bed to make breakfast for the family.

she turns back to logan, who simply grins. “you like it?”

“i love it!” she screeches. she places the helmet over the dustbag on the ground, whirling around to throw her arms over logan again. “it’s the best present ever! i really really love it!” she throws her head back. “you’re the best dad in the world! i love you!”

she grabs logan’s face, mushing his cheeks as she presses a sloppy kiss on his cheeks. “thank you, thank you!”

“little luna!” oscar’s voice makes the young girl perk up, turning around at the call of her favourite uncle.

she picks up the helmet and sprints over to the couple not too far away, stopping in their tracks when she practically throws herself into oscar’s arms with the helmet in her hands. “look what daddy got me!”

oscar and lily immediately gawk at the girl’s amazement of her dad’s present, showing them all of the things she’s noticed since she laid eyes on it about 5 minutes ago.

logan finally turns to you, sighing in relief. he rests his head on your shoulder and you chuckle as you wrap your arms around him and pat his back. “you’re too hard on yourself, love,” you hum, swaying slightly as you take a quick glance at luna, now surrounded by alex and george who are also congratulating her on her first helmet. “she sees you, you know.”

he pulls away and leans into your touch when you cup his cheek. perhaps he’s too hard on himself. but when you’re away from your daughter most of the year, you’re bound to start thinking that you’re no better than an absent parent.

“i just always feel so disconnected from you guys.” he clenches his jaw, throwing himself over your smaller frame again to hide his face in your hair. “i wish i was around more. it feels like i’m losing her with each day i’m not around.”

“she talks about you all the time and how cool you are.” you pull away and grin slightly, caressing his cheek with your thumbs. “look at her — entering her first karting race. she goes on and on about being just like daddy. you’re her hero.”

logan raises his eyebrow and clenches his jaw. “again — i wouldn’t say i should be her role model when it comes to racing.”

“you can’t change her mind,” you shrug, forcefully turning logan around to look at luna, now in fits of giggles as oscar helps her to try on the helmet. “you’re always with her even when you’re not.” you rest your cheek on his arm, wrapping an arm around his and intertwining your fingers together.

“i just miss you guys so much all the time.” he throws his head back with a groan, turning back to you. “i miss you all the fucking time.”

“don’t be like that.” you tiptoe and pucker your lips, giggling sheepishly when he bends down to press his lips on yours. “luna loves watching the races and she looks forward to you coming home with trinkets and candy. she never forgets you.”

before he can answer, a hand is hitting his thigh, forcing him to pull away to look down at what’s cut your intimate time short.

the girl looks up with her helmet on, her small hands struggling to pull up the visor. “daddy, mummy, look.”

“oh, luna, you look so cool!” logan gushes, helping the girl lift the visor.

her cheeks are mushed in the helmet, green eyes shining through as she throws her head back with a loud giggle. “as cool as you, daddy?”

“even cooler!” logan bends down, taking the young girl into his arms. he hoists her into the air, and then sits her on his hip before reaching for your hand. “come on, let’s get ready for your first race, lulu.”

@cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification

[twistedbotanicals]

Initiation

Dark content warning!

18+, consent for all the wrong reasons, obsession, hentai-style tentacles, Curse!fucking, womb filling, belly inflation, bondage with tentacles, loss of consciousness, loss of virginity

"You wish to join my...organisation."

A question, framed as a statement. Geto Suguru rolled a small chirping Curse, moving around his long-fingers and pale palm like a bag of animated marbles, as if he was bored. His baggy pants hid how his cock swelled and twitched to life within.

This was his favourite part- the initiation- and you were the most eager little virgin to have flown into his web for quite some time. Though clearly a grown woman, you remained untouched...for now.

You knelt, your sweaty palms pressed flat to your thighs, and you thrummed with excitement. With your idol now so close that you could see every crease in his disarming smile, and every thread vein on the inside of his wrist, you felt sick with anxious delight.

You didn't even notice how you leaned forwards, so eager to please that Suguru's aching arousal jerked against his thigh. He maintained his jovial, softly spoken facade, offering you an indulgent smile as you spoke, your voice wavering.

"I-- I would love nothing more, Geto-sama-- it would be an honour, the highest honour--"

"Quite. We could use your Cursed technique, and your enthusiasm." Suguru stood, now, his socked feet soft upon the tatami mats, stepping, feathersoft and serene, down towards you. You could see the long, heavy swelling of his lap, and your mouth ran dry, your lips parting spontaneously. You clamped your thighs together, throbbing.

When he knelt, your chin in his grasp and his breath over your lips, you thought you may faint, and the barest moan left your stretched throat.

But, Suguru looked tortured, sighing in dramatic resignation. "What a shame that you've been amongst the monkeys your whole life...you still cling to them. I can smell them on you. How could I ever know I could trust you?"

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. Ice water ran down your body, the threat of rejection so close, and you reached up involuntarily, clasping the wrist of the hand that held your chin. Your eyes burned with obsessive fervour, hellfire stoked within.

"Anything, Geto-sama." You strained, your voice thick with sincerity. "I'd do anything for you-- for your organisation-- to prove my loyalty--"

"Anything?" He purred, his strong fingers drifting down your chin to the front of your neck, squeezing the shape of your throat as you swallowed beneath his hand. He cooed in cold comfort.

"You'd do anything, to prove your fealty to me? I'm not an easy man to impress...I could just fuck you, it's true. Truth be told, I wouldn't need your permission, but it does reduce the fun somewhat, knowing you'd spread your cunt open for me so willingly. Deflowering you would be a privilege, I'm sure."

Your vision almost blacked at the edges with promise. Any allusion of appearing respectable fell like broken glass. You felt sorely tempted to dip your fingers between your legs, to pleasure yourself to Suguru's filthy words alone, but you reminded yourself that it was his pleasure you were pledging yourself to.

Suguru saw this; saw your faint, telltale squirms of arousal, as heat pooled in your belly. He hummed, dismissive, looking aside.

"What to do...what to do?"

He clicked his tongue, as if torn by indecision. Still, your throat twitched beneath his hand. Opening your mouth to beg again, you moaned to feel Suguru's thumb dart into your mouth to hold your tongue down.

"I take my pleasure vicariously, little one. I should like to see how far you would demean yourself for me. I should like to see how far your dignity would bend without breaking. Would you like that too, little one?"

You trembled, your knees slipped apart and sloppy, Suguru's hand fixed around your throat with a thumb upon your tongue. You nodded, and nodded again, and again, and again, to Suguru's wan, satisfied huff of mirth.

Up close, his smile was twisted, toxic, and you only wished you knew how right he was, when he surmised that you'd spread yourself for him for just a click of his fingers. You'd let him fuck your virginity away in a heartbeat. You imagined his hand over your mouth as he thrust past your hymen, how he'd catch the shrieks in his hand and devour them like a Curse.

"So you will be fucked, do we agree?"

With no idea to what you consented, you consented instead to your obsession, nodding and nodding again, your splayed fingers clasping at Suguru's robes. He leaned just close enough that he spoke his next words directly against your lips.

"And if you survive, little one...I shall welcome you to my lap with open arms."

Something short-circuited in your brain. Suguru stood, walking away with his back to you, leaving you alone, cold, speechless. You heard a wet, hushed, eldritch rumble to your right, and felt lead drop into your belly.

An enormous, cephalopod Curse, of mottled purple to red ombre, dominated one half of the broad traditional room. Clearly an octopus of eerie origin, its many tentacles tangled and unfurled, its single great, yellow eye rolling and dilating as it fixed on you.

You gasped, scrabbling away, and it grumbled, grasping you by the ankle, and dragging you back across the floor. You shrieked. You heard Suguru chuckle, the palm of his hand lazily pressing across his tenting manhood as the Curse's tentacles gradually wound and twisted around your limbs, ripping your clothes off your body like crepe paper. Every touch left a wet, sticky lubricant on your skin. Suguru toned, low and mild.

"This particular Curse has...desires, as any of us do. I'm sure it would prefer to taste you, over some dirty little monkey, though. And I'd like to watch. You want to give me what I want...don't you?"

You hesitated only briefly, knowing what your answer was. And you couldn't deny (by the time you were bare on the tatami before Suguru, that watching him bite his lip to the image of your naked form being slowly lifted and entwined by shivering, pulsing tentacles) the way it made you throb.

By the time eager little suckers had located your neck, your nipples, and your clit, you arched and mewled with hot little bursts of pleasure. You felt so weightless, lifted and suckled by this hungry beast. By the way it shivered at your taste, leeching off your sex and Cursed energy, the pleasure was not yours alone.

It softened you this way, so that you did not notice how your arms became bound behind your back; so that you did not notice how your legs were folded back and open, into a suspended mating press. A tentacle ran along the length of your sex, its tip teasing against your virgin entrance, as its sucker clasped greedily onto your clit.

The pleasure of its brothers working to suck onto your nipples, tugging and stretching enough to make your toes curl, drew out your moans into pathetic little whimpers. Geto watched as the red and purple limbs wrapping your body writhed harder, and tighter, eager to take their own pleasure, but determined to ensure you were wet and supple enough to take them all.

"G-Geto-sama--" You choked, involuntarily humping with the sucks of the tentacle, making it pulse and shiver, barely resisting sliding inside your tight little hole. Suguru swore under his breath, shuddering, biting one finger between his teeth as the others rested at his temples, his body lying sideways on one elbow.

"Good girl." Suguru hushed, velvet smooth, fucking up against his palm from his spot on the floor. He would have to edge himself carefully, he thought, so he didn't come in his boxers like a boy, at the first moment the tentacle deflowered you. The moment of penetration would be almost too much to bear, even without pleasuring himself in his fist.

"You'll be...full, after this." Suguru mused aloud, hooking his aching cock out to rest against his belly, as your cries of pleasure began to peak. He gripped his fists, the knuckles cracking with the effort of not masturbating himself to completion. "It has quite the volume of semen, from what I have seen it do to the monkey women. You'll ache. Will you take it, for me?"

You nodded, flushed, your eyes half-lidded, breathless in this toxic miasma of pleasure. The speed of the sucks on your clit and nipples increased, and you jerked with the overstimulating pace, not yet at orgasm, but the pleasure harsh enough to make you convulse sharply. The tentacles around you pulsed and shivered, one eager yellow eye and two eager brown eyes fixed on you, watching, waiting.

"O-oohhh f-fuck I'm gonna...gonna come-- gonna come-- o-oooh n-nooooo-- Geto-- haaaah!"

Your orgasm pounded through your bound form with electric intensity. You jerked, convulsing, and the tentacle that sucked on your clit and teased your hymen grew more eager still, pre-cum soaking your entrance to prepare you for its slick penetration.

As you convulsed, humping the limb with guttural groans, you heard Suguru curse again, little jerking spills of pre-cum wetting the hair on his barely exposed belly. He lay back, one arm over his eyes, groaning.

Suguru freed his heated gaze in time to see the tentacle stroke one final time against your entrance, as if licking, tenderising you...before pressing forwards with its tapered tip, thickening so fast as it punched past your virginity to seat itself fully in your pussy.

You arched, screaming against the sudden intrusion. An opportunistic tentacle, bulbous at the tip and thicker than the girthiest cocks you had ever seen in porn, pressed into your open mouth, silencing you into thick gags and swallows.

After a few moments of your pussy clenching, your mouth clenching, your arms pulling involuntarily against the binding limbs...you stilled, supple and used and submissive. With another frisson of delight, the tentacles that were inside you begin to move, thrusting as an eldritch groan of bliss rumbled from the Curse.

You felt every single thrust against your belly, and you twitched, your moans barely audible around the member that pleasured itself with your mouth. A tentacle stretched up, winding itself around your neck to force its extension, and you gagged to feel the arousal fuck deeper. It shivered again, barely able to restrain itself.

Geto had almost ejaculated untouched, to see the tentacle punch through your virginity like it was tissue paper. The cool façade he usually maintained faltered, also paper thin. A drip of sweat crept down his neck as he cursed, releasing his clothes enough to bare his chest, his heavy twitching cock, and his belly tensing with the thrill of edging himself.

"Not innocent anymore, little one...shit...does it feel good? Giving yourself over to my monsters?" The Curse groaned, heavy and gravelly, as if answering for you. Geto swore again as it lined up thinner tendrils to coil around your breasts and nipples, teasing, stretching and flicking them.

You jerked with the sinful pleasure of being used, feeling the tentacles fuck, and fuck, and fuck, up your pussy and down your throat. The yellow eye watched you from below, changing your angle occasionally, as if examining its artwork from all perspectives, relishing in the way you squealed when new limbs began to probe your asshole. A thin one dipped inside, as if testing, before coming out again, making way for a more generous counterpart.

You felt it coat you with its sticky pre-cum, first teasing your asshole with one bulbous cock, before carefully easing the head in. It shuddered at the way your pussy involuntarily clenched and milked it in response, drips of pre-cum beginning to slip out of you to the floor.

Another tentacle, thinner, with breeding intent, had already slid into your cunt alongside its thicker brother, and waited at your cervix for you to climax again, so it could steal its chance.

Suguru could not restrain himself any longer, to watch you be fucked raw in suspension, seeing the way your eyes grew unfocused and your body jerked and trembled. He hissed to feel his fist encircle his cock, stroking slowly, in time with the tentacles that thrust in tandem within you.

"Got to come again, little one. It can't take its satisfaction until you do. Do you want the suckers back?"

You only moaned in response, wet and slurping around the tentacle that used your mouth. Suguru flicked one hand at the Curse, an order, and a sucker promptly resited itself on your clit, to suck you to orgasm as you needed.

You moan was dirtier than any Suguru had ever heard and he had to let go of his cock again with a jolt, lest he spill all over the floor. He swore, biting the back of his fist, feeling his peak almost creep over...before ebbing away again, leaving him panting, gasping.

Suguru fucked up against the air as he felt the final climax approaching, sure you were not ready for the way the Curse would leave you heavy with its seed.

It was as the three limbs fucking within you all sped up, in one final push towards completion, that you fell into another orgasm. The ferocity with which the suckers licked at your clit and nipples had you roaring with pleasure around the limb in your mouth, and as you convulsed, you felt the curious sensation of something thinner and more insistent weedle through your cervix to press its tip into your womb.

Mid-orgasm, you felt yourself go lightheaded with the bizarre, vasovagal physiological response to your cervix being invaded. The world blackened at the edges, and you loosened in the limbs, only semi-conscious. The Curse took its chance...and began to fill you.

The tentacles within you pulsed, alternating and peristaltic, as cum began to pulse through, into you. Lost in a black haze of pleasure, your belly grew warm, then hot, and ached, as the little tentacle within your womb spurted loads of warm cum into it. You jerked, swallowing, and clenching, to feel the same happen in your throat and asshole.

The tentacles continued to gently suckle on your breasts and clit, as if soothing you for what it was doing to you. Excess sticky white cum splashed to the floor, running down your chin, your thighs, little squirts oozing out of the suckers on your nipples and clit.

Your pathetic little mewls, and the way your lower belly stretched outwards, bulging with the cum that filled you, pushed Geto over the edge. With two final fucks into his pre-cum wetted fist, he came with hushed curses, praising you with liquid mercury.

"--good girl-- shhhh...take it for me, that's it, filthy girl...take it...shhhit, take it..."

You came back online slowly, aching, your belly cramping as if on your period. The Curse lowered you to the floor with surprising tenderness. As it withdrew its tentacles from your prone, whimpering body, one great limb softly stroked your bloated belly. The Curse groaned, retreating and satisfied, but not before one tentacle stretched out to offer you an affectionate little boop on the nose.

As you lay on the tatami, bare, shivering, and impossibly full of cum, Geto swallowed down the Octopus Curse, his hand and belly still sticky with his own seed. He sighed as though he had just performed some wearing duty, and cast you a look of languid satisfaction.

"...you are welcome here, little one."

Geto smirked. The last thing he heard from your babbling mouth, as his staff dragged you from the room towards the baths, was you thanking him weakly, with a cum-filled mouth, for his acceptance.

Another cult member bowed before Geto, his forehead not even rising from the floor as he spoke.

"Are--are you ready for the next one, Geto-sama?"

Suguru smiled, sharkish, perusing a mental Rolladex for a Curse of choice.

"Yes." Geto sighed, stretching, tucking his cock away and wiping his hands on the back of the flinching cult members' robes. "Send her in."

[mezsygfs]

marauders as things my friends and I have said pt 1

all parts

barty: what if I stuck it in your ear

evan: kinky?

regulus: no, emergency room

Remus: you're a switch?

Sirius: yeah?

James: AND you're bisexual?

Sirius: yes..?

Remus: AND you use all pronouns?

Sirius: uh-huh.....?

Peter: so were you just born indecisive as fuck?

Pandora: regulus is going through some things with his family, he needs space

Barty: aren't we all? fuck his space

Sirius: I FOUND MY TOP!

James: is it Remus... Is Remus the top...

rando: what's masochist?

Barty: finding pleasure in pain inflicted by your partner when intimate.

Evan: id let Barty stab me during sex.

Remus: YOU TOLD ME TO FUCK YOU SO I DID. YOURE FUCKED

Peter: just lost my virginity

James: oh...

Sirius: HUH

Peter: I'm jp I just needed y'all to answer

Sirius: *sends a screenshot of $$ balance*

Remus: want some head?

Barty: he's just listening to whimper audios again

Evan: I'm actually sobbing why is it so creamy

Evan: ugh y'all distracted me I was supposed to be reading

Regulus: YOU WERE LISTENING TO ASMR??

Barty: no need, I like it raw

Pandora: hey kids! This is a perfect example of unsafe sex! Now let's go through unplanned parenthood!

James: Regulus this was YOUR fault

Regulus: shut up I'll fuck you again

[echobx]

Twin Flame 2 - pervy!bsf!JJ × pervy!bsf!fem!reader

summary: y/n is indecisive about what she wants and tries to blame JJ

word count: 2.3k

warnings: bratty!reader, angsty feels for JJ, miscommunication ig, lying (to the pogues), smut, talk of mutual masturbation, p in v (unprotected), backshots, orgasm denial

author's note: as promised here's part 2 and bc I couldn't fit all of what I needed in here, I'm gonna do a 3rd one on top... what can I say, I'm a sucker for this man

series masterlist ♡ part 1

   Exchanging used underwear in secrecy. That's the best way you could describe the “situation” you had with JJ. 

   You hadn't really managed to do much that first day, not wanting to get caught by your friends and having to explain it all. Maybe you were both more scared of their judgment for how you two acted than for breaking the rules. They were stupid rules anyway, not holding up any weight anymore after the group finally consisted of two couples, Kiara and whatever it was that JJ and you would maybe, possibly, potentially become. 

   You weren't sure if you wanted more than just hanging out that ended with his fingers up your cunt and yours wrapped around his dick. An occasional make out session if needed, but you weren't picky about it. 

   It wasn't the classic get up. No secret love, at least you told yourself that, because you didn't even know what love was supposed to feel like, never having felt it. You just knew that kissing JJ made your head spin, and you felt nauseous afterward. But not in a sick way, not like when you did after drinking one too many stale beers. No, it was more like your stomach wanted to turn itself inside out and the feeling could only be remedied by his touch, by the feel of his lips pressed against you. 

   There were silent boundaries that JJ wasn't about to cross without asking first, either, but he was also too afraid to pose the question. He looked at you with wonder, more so now than ever before, and maybe that’s why it was so difficult. Before the “agreement” he could make jokes about you sucking him off instead of paying for your weed. Or him going down on you for a pack of cold ones. 

   However, that ease had shifted drastically with the moment you had pulled him into the spare room that day. From then on his whole body was only craving one thing, to hear you try to stay quiet for him and to feel your soft touch around his cock; to watch you watch him as he licked his fingers, cleaning off the last drops of your cum; and maybe even more so, to watch you do the same with him. 

   Head and hand were close enough alphabetically for him already, so it didn't make sense to him why he had such a hard time asking for more from you, and granting it in return. 

   “My parents aren't home this weekend,” you told him while getting dressed, pulling your skirt up but leaving your slip lying damp on his bed. 

   “Is that an invitation?” JJ cocked his brow, and you tilted your head to the side. 

   “Sometimes I think you’re scared of coming inside.” The double entendre didn't get lost on him. 

   “I just mean, we've never done that, is all,” he shrugged. 

   “You've been in my room more times than I can count.” 

   “Not like that,” he shook his head two times, exhaling loudly before getting up and picking up a fresh pair of underwear to put on. 

   “Maybe if you had asked earlier,” you shrugged. 

   “Are we still just talking about the room?” 

   “I don't know, JJ, are we?” you huffed, picking up your purse and walking out on him. 

   Your demeanor had become increasingly harder to read for him, and your growing usage of quips and sarcasm, as well as words he had to look up, wasn't helping either. He knew it was just who you are, not your intention to confuse him more. Yet it didn't help much. 

   The next day, he tried his best to not gaze at you, instead keeping his eyes pinned to the ground to not get lost again. He got lost more and more these days. Thinking about letting you ride him, fucking your throat, bending you over; you name it, he thought of it. He went to sleep thinking about you with a growing semi that wouldn't die down unless you took care of it, and woke up with a boner that grew increasingly more painful. To him, it seemed like the only options would be to just be able to fuck you awake or fall asleep with your tight cunt wrapped around him. 

   “How do you ask someone to go down on you?” your voice ripped him out of his thoughts, but he refused to look at you still. 

   “Why? You got someone new?” Kie poked your shoulder, a cheeky grin on her face, and you smiled politely, keeping the facade. 

   “I wouldn't call it that, we're just hooking up- Well, not so much that either,” you sighed and suddenly all your friends had their ears perked, all but one. 

   “Sounds confusing,” Sarah huffed, her legs draped over John B’s on the couch. 

   “I don't know if it is my fault for not suggesting it or his for not wanting to, I guess,” you roll your eyes. 

   “Maybe he doesn't know how to ask either?” JJ noted, looking up for just a second to see them all look at him for a short moment. 

   “What are you and this guy doing?” Kie inquired. 

   “All we do is make out and then get each other off. We've not even fucked yet, and I'm really starting to question if he just thinks I'm ugly or something. Or maybe I'm just so shit at hand jobs that he doesn't even want to do more,” you complained, and this time JJ stared you down as if you had just announced that you ran over a bunch of toddlers. Maybe even worse, he knew he could find some fucked up excuse for why you would need to run over babies. That was just normal, though, everyone was down bad for their best friend. 

   “Maybe you should tell him that, instead of us,” he hissed, pissed at just the thought that you could think yourself to be not enough to grant the pleasures he wanted to give you, no matter how scared he was. 

   “JJ’s right, for once,” Pope spoke up, oblivious to the tension between the two of you. “Open and clear communication always works out.” 

   “Since when are you such an expert on sex?” JJ huffed, which landed him a kick against the knee by Kiara, and a glare from Cleo, who was playing with her knife. It wasn't a smart move on his end, but he had other things to worry about. 

   “I don't think he knows English as much as he should,” you sighed, finally looking away from JJ, who gulped at the insult.

   John B leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Don't tell me you're fucking that Italian exchange student.” 

   “What? No. That's not what I meant. And he's so not my type either,” you felt affront to the suggestion. “Also, way out of my league, that one, even if I was interested.”

   “Not fucked up enough for you?” JJ quipped, and you shot him a glare. 

   “Apparently, I like mine dumb,” you hit him back. The tension grew worse with the second, and you knew the only way to get rid of it was to let him ruin you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. 

   “Okay, well, just talk to the guy. And if he doesn't wanna go down on you, let alone refuse to fuck you, drop his balls in a boiling pot of water and then drop him,” Cleo suggested and Kiara agreed with her. 

   “Yeah, and give me his address, so I can put chili powder in all his underwear.”

   The discussion died down after that, but JJ yet again refused to look at you, but this time not because he was too infatuated with you. He was angry, sad, hurt, confused. His chest felt narrower than usual, as if he was having an anxiety attack, but worse. And every time your voice nestled itself in his ear, it got worse, to a point where he pushed his chair back and stomped inside without losing another word. 

   However, you didn't think much of it, knowing how quick tempered he was it would also not be the best idea to meet him inside. 

   When you got home, your parents were already asleep. You got ready, taking a shower and putting your hair up before lying down to sleep. 

   At last your quiet was disturbed by your window being pushed open and the sound of heavy boots on hardwood flooring filled the room. 

   “I’m trying to sleep,” you murmured. 

   “I don't care,” JJ growled right next to your face. “Get up!” 

   “What's your problem?” you hissed at him while sitting up, the tiny nightgown you were wearing made his pants grow impossibly tighter.

   “You're a real bitch. Not saying shit to me and then spilling it all to them? Making me look even worse than I already do? Making fun of me?” JJ was seething, and the fact that you didn't show remorse made it worse. 

   “You don't know what you want!” you yell silently, not wanting to wake your parents. 

   “Has it ever crossed your fucking mind that I'm trying to be respectful here?” You were honestly too stunned to speak. After all, this had only started because he really wasn't respectful, at all. “Don't you think I would've fucked you any way possible by now if it was my choice? Don't you think that it tears me apart on the inside to try and not fuck this up by being me?” 

   “Oh yeah?” you huffed, and he ran his hand over his face, nodding. “JJ, I don't want you to not be you. Why would I want that? If I wanted to keep on masturbating for the rest of my fucking life, I wouldn't have fucking proposed this arrangement.” 

   “Oh-” the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “Well… you know… so…”

   “Not so good with English, just like I said,” you shook your head and his hand shot out to hold you by your throat, not restricting air, but not letting you move either. 

   “You're such a fucking brat, do you know that?” He dipped his head and forced a harsh kiss on your lips. Your hands came up to his pants, fumbling to open the belt and button before he shoved you to lie on your bed. 

   “You wanted me to come by? Expected it?” He sounded dangerous like that, but you liked it, like knowing that he wouldn't actually hurt you, but just play it enough to please you. Or, just enough to “fix your attitude.” 

   “I don't know what you mean,” you said sweetly as he took off his clothes. 

   “That thing you're wearing,” he pointed at the mesh fabric. “Can see all through that. Not something you put on usually.” 

   “Are you complaining about it?” You didn't quite understand what he was getting at. 

   “Hmmm… no. Take it off anyway,” he ordered, and you did. 

   No matter how much he wanted to touch you, feel the round of your tits in his palms, squeeze them, twist your nipples and suck on them, he refrained. He wanted to punish you for playing with him, more. 

   “Lie down,” he pointed at the length of the bed, and you placed yourself on it, head in the pillows, but he shook his head no. “Face down.”

   First you thought about protesting, but you decided against it, turning around and pressing your head into your pillow while your ass was up in the air, the same way your ex had preferred. 

   JJ smacked your ass, and you winced, the sound being smothered by your pillow. 

   “My parents,” you reminded him quickly, and he chuckled. 

   “You better keep quiet then.” 

   JJ didn't really know what he was doing, he only knew that he needed to do it properly and in a way that would have you begging for more, just for him to deny it then. It was a sick plan by an even sicker man. He didn't praise you, didn't talk to you. Kept comments to himself, like the fact that you were so incredibly wet for him, although he hadn't really done anything to you yet. Or when he pushed inside you for the first time and groaned at how tight you were, the perfect fit for him. 

   His first thrust was torturously slow. He wanted to feel you out, every miniscule part of your insides, and imprint it in his mind. How you whined and begged for him to move faster, and to touch you, anything really. 

   “This is just for me, princess, remember?” he taunted after lying down on top of you, nestled deep in your guts. His hands, one on your neck pushing you down, the other under you, pushing against your stomach to make it even tighter for him. Slow deep thrusts did the trick, but as soon as he felt you get closer, pussy starting to flutter around him, he got up and changed his technique. Going faster, nearly coming already, but he placed himself. 

   “JJ, please. Fuck, please,” you begged as you neared the second attempt. 

   “What? Do you want my cum that badly, baby?” he rasped, and you nodded into the pillow. 

   “Need you.” 

   What you hadn't expected was for him to pull out almost completely, starting to jerk himself off while his throbbing tip was still inside you. 

   “JJ, please,” you were close to tears, needing your release as much as air to breathe, and yet he denied you. 

   “Want my cum, baby?” he smirked like the devil, not that you could've seen by the way he pushed you down.

   “Give it to me, please, J,” you whined pathetically.

   As soon as the words had left you, he pushed inside again, spilling himself into your guts and groaning loudly while his dick twitched, and he fucked his seed deeper into you. 

   Maybe you should've felt more used after, but you understood why he had done it. What you didn't understand was that he left as soon as he was done, only a quick, “I hope you're on something,” before vanishing into the night and leaving you behind. 

read part 3 here

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms

[pomefioredove]

My brain is kinda sluggish plus I'm indecisive but also i did like several of these (also if i need to divide up this post let me know)

I have no clue which i like best so i simply made a list but let me know if i need to chunk it up

For Riddle Rosehearts

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." Or "I'm putting you on my to-do list."

For Vil Schoenheit

"Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

For Ruggie

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel."

vil done here!

summary: "if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, maybe ooc, post book 1

You think it's a pretty pathetic sight, but you make no mention of it. Their egos are bruised enough as it is.

"How long?" you ask, sitting across from the shackled duo.

Ace knocks against the solid collar around his neck. "Not long... But we can't present like this,"

You were hoping he wouldn't say that.

And just a day after you told them not to do anything stupid this week, too...

Deuce says nothing; he's been sulking at the end of the table like a puppy with its tail between its legs for the entire lunch period.

"Have you tried reasoning?" you ask. "Maybe he can take them off for the presentation, then put them back on?"

Ace scoffs. "Reason? With Riddle?"

"I thought he was trying to be more lenient?"

"He is," Deuce mutters, hanging his head. "But that just means he only dishes out punishments when someone really deserves it..."

"It was just a stupid painting!" Ace says.

"That we set on fire!"

You look between the two as they bicker over the accident, bewildered by their lack of concern about where this puts you.

Ace and Deuce were supposed to perform the magical component of your defense project, while you and Grim presented. Now...?

You stand. "I'll talk to Riddle,"

Your friends share a pitiful look, but do nothing to stop you as you hurry out of the room.

Surely, Riddle will understand. He wouldn't let you suffer from Ace and Deuce's mistake!

"No," he says.

"But-"

Riddle beheads the wilting flower of a rose with a sharp snap of his shears. It tumbles into the underbrush.

"They destroyed a priceless piece of art. It was hundreds of years old!" he snaps, leaving no room for disagreement. "They should be thankful it's only a week."

He moves on to the next browning rose, inspecting its petals before decapitating it, too.

"But I didn't do anything. I told them not to do anything dumb, I tried to reason with them,"

"Reason? With Ace and Deuce?" he scoffs.

"I would recommend asking for an extension on your assignment until they've carried out their sentence,"

It's too late to ask for another week; he must know that. And you're not giving up so easily.

There must be something you can say...

"But it was an accident,"

Riddle scoffs. "Of course it was. And the rules clearly state that accidental arson of a painting more than three hundred years old must be punished by losing their heads,"

Rules. Great. This is quickly becoming a lost cause.

"There has to be some other way they can be punished," you say. "You said you weren't going to lose your head about these things anymore."

He sighs, rolling his eyes as if frustrated with you. "The rules-"

"Come on, Riddle- If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun!"

Riddle stops. For a moment, it's almost like... he's actually considering your offer.

"...What exactly did you have in mind?"

-

"This is what you call a compromise?!"

Ace's head of fiery hair pops up, the color a striking contrast against the green of the hedge maze.

You shrug. Riddle, sitting across from you as you watch the two tend to the shrubbery, almost giggles.

"The Prefect has been more than fair. If anything, you should be thanking them for the opportunity to end your punishment early," he says, pouring you another cup of tea.

Ace grumbles, scratching his neck under his collar.

Deuce nudges him, and the two get back to work on trimming the hedges, a puny pair of shears in each hand.

Riddle smiles. "I must say, I'm rather impressed by your persuasion skills. It's not often that I change the terms of a punishment after it's dealt,"

"Well, I didn't want to fail on their account,"

"I heard that!" Ace yells. Riddle grins again.

"Perhaps your ingenuity will inspire them, then," he hums, cupping his tea in his palms.

"In the meantime, I believe another tea party is in order for tomorrow afternoon- they have a lot of ground to cover. Care to join?"

[kinascum]

SCOOP OF US - C. STURNIOLO

SYNOPSIS: In a charming ice cream parlor, Chris and Y/N navigate the delightful challenge of choosing the perfect flavor.

WARNINGS: none!

WORD COUNT: 416

"So, what's your flavor?" Chris' eyes twinkled with curiosity as he scanned the colorful array of ice cream tubs behind the glass counter. His question hung in the air, unanswered. The sweet aroma of waffle cones and freshly churned goodness filled the quaint little parlor.

Y/N, caught in a whirlwind of indecision, stared at the menu with a furrowed brow. There were just too many options—each one sounded more tantalizing than the last. "I don't know," she murmured, feeling a little overwhelmed. "They all look so good."

Chris leaned in, his grin widening. "If you're looking for the real star of the show, it's gotta be their chocolate fudge brownie," he said, his voice low and earnest. "It's like a party in your mouth, and everyone's invited." He tapped the glass gently, his finger lingering over the dark, rich scoop nestled between the mint chocolate chip and the strawberry cheesecake. His enthusiasm was contagious, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the thought of tasting something so heavenly.

After a brief internal debate, she pointed at the chocolate fudge brownie. "That one," she said decisively. "But only if you promise not to judge me for copying you."

Chris chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Your taste is anything but predictable," he joked, sarcasm lacing his tone, he placed their orders with the attentive server. He leaned against the counter, watching as the scoops of velvety ice cream were piled onto their cones. The clinking of spoons against metal and the soft whir of the ice cream machine provided a comforting backdrop to their conversation. "But, I have to admit, I'm going for something a bit more... classic," he said, his gaze drifting to the cookie dough flavor.

The server handed them their cones with a smile. "One chocolate fudge brownie and one cookie dough," she announced, placing the treats in their outstretched hands. Chris stepped aside, allowing Y/N to take her first lick. The cold sweetness hit her taste buds, and she couldn't help but let out a little moan of pleasure. His eyes lit up at the sight, and he couldn't resist teasing her a bit. "See? I told you it was a good choice."

They found a cozy spot outside the parlor, sitting on a wooden bench that had seen better days but had been painted a cheerful shade of blue. The warm summer evening wrapped around them like a gentle embrace, and the sound of distant laughter and chirping crickets filled the air. The reader took a moment to appreciate the moment—the soft glow of the streetlights, the gentle hum of the ice cream truck in the background, and the comforting presence of Chris beside her. It was a simple, yet perfect date.

hope you guys liked this!! made it short and sweet for yall <33

[luveline]

I love the KBD universe 🩵🩵. It’s so soft and comforting. Idk how you always write such gentle slice of life moments that stay soft even when there’s moments of conflict.

I was rereading the series, and in one scene Steve asks reader if they wanna make out, but Avery comes in before they can. Can I request a scene where they do get to make out (nothing super spicy) and spend that time with each other? I know it’s got to be difficult with four kids.

kisses before dinner —you and Steve languish in some rare alone time. mom!reader, 1k

"Hello," you whisper.

He looks up in surprise, eyebrows lifted. That surprise quickly melds to a soft-boned happiness as you sit in his lap —he's splayed sideways on the armchair, and you have to sit sort of sideways on him to meet his eyes. 

"Everybody's sleeping," you say, brushing a stray strand of hair from his eyes as the TV light paints him a blur of multicolour. "Even Wren." 

He looks up. "How'd you do that?" 

You told him to relax for a bit before bath time. He must've gotten distracted by the TV, which he doesn't often get to watch lately, and so you hadn't really minded. Full time childcare is exhausting. It comes to something when you're nearly happy to go to work, though coming home every night is still what you wait for, and it's thanks to him that you can drive home in excitement.  

"I'm multi-talented." You nestle your way under his chin, his arms curling around you as though they have a job to do. Firm. Immediate. "Wren went down like a miracle. I only had to rub her back." 

"Avery?" Steve asks. 

Avery's under the weather, so you let her skip bath time and tucked her in, sending her to sleep with little more than a forehead kiss. Beth was similarly eager for bed, knocking out after half of a story, her hand insistently in yours. Dove, in contrast, took three times as long to settle, but was convinced by the pad of your pinky finger as it traced up and down the bridge of her nose. 

"Tactile creatures, your girls," you murmur. 

"Where do they get it from?" he asks as he begins to stroke a quarter circle into your back. "Tokyo Olympics called again. Team USA needs you on their roster." 

He's declaring you impressive for such a feat as tonight's solo bed time. "The answer's still no. I don't think anyone wants to see me in a leotard." 

"I do," he says, kissing the top of your head. His lips soft, his voice the same, he hugs you closer still. "I so do. You look nice in everything." 

You could fall asleep like this, in his arms, his lap, your face drifting down his chest as you curl into his warmth. There's nowhere else you'd rather be (besides possibly bed, but even then you'd need it to be with him). "Thanks, Steve." 

"You're welcome." 

The room is quiet. The house stirs and rain lashes the darkened windows every now and then with the indecisive winds, whistling through tree branches far away. You shiver at the sound and Steve sets your goosebumps right with bigger strokes of his hand, a familiar up and down pressed into your back. Pressure to distract the senses. 

"Thanks for doing bed time." 

You wave it away. It's nice to be appreciated, but in the face of everything he does you don't want any thank yous tonight. "I just wanted to spend some time with you." 

"Yeah?" he asks, sinking lower into the armchair, the majority of your weight following down onto his abdomen rather than his legs. 

"I really…" missed isn't the right word. You missed him while you were at work, and time spent with him and the girls is just as worthy and sweet as time alone, but that doesn't mean you can't want both. "I've been thinking about you." 

Steve doesn't flinch at your odd wording, the opposite. He knuckles trail loosely to the small of your back, a smugness to the curve of his lips as he smiles, and says, "I've been thinking about you." 

Steve usually looks handsome. You've seen him bedraggled, dishevelled, and exhausted, of course, but he puts a majesty into nearly everything he does. He can take a plate down from one of the kitchen cabinets or hike one of your sweethearts onto his hip and you'll remark to yourself about how pretty he looks. This isn't taking into consideration how attractive you find his heart (that list is endless —compassion, dedication, loyalty, etc). The stuff you love about Steve goes on and on and on.

You curl a hand behind his head and card through his hair, not sure what to say. His eyes meet yours. "They don't have a word for how much I love you, H." 

His voice rasps with a low pleasure, "I could think of a bunch for you. Only if you want. I'm smart like that." 

Your lips twitch. "Please," you say, giving his scalp a playful scratch. 

"Endlessly," he begins. "Eternally. Overflowingly." He leans forward to touch your noses together. "Fuck," —he laughs as he searches for another— "started so strong. Uh… infinitely. A whole fucking lot?" 

"Loads." 

You both laugh, the heat of the others breath like a phantom of a kiss between you. 

"Loads," he agrees. "Wickedly." 

"Deviously?" 

"Ambitiously. A shit ton." 

You kiss him gingerly, not worried he won't kiss back but wanting to stay in this moment for as long as you can. "Love you loads," you say against his lips. 

With your eyes closed you can't see his expression, but you can guess at what he's doing. Steve likely has his brows sewn together, a grimace on his lips that might suggest the opposite of what he's feeling. 

He acts like kissing you is the only thing that he could ever need, that this intermission is painful but absolutely necessary. "I love you," he says. He whispers your name, raising his hand to cup your cheek. His marriage finger rubs a mindless little shape into the soft skin under your eye. "I love you." 

You wrap your arms around his neck and hook him closer, smiling into a second and much less ginger kiss.