#1.5k Followers Challenge

[ellenent]

all characters I made for the draw Nintendo characters challenge ^-^

[carpentvrs]

DREAMY EYES

pairing :: james potter x fem!reader (implied girly!reader)

warnings :: mentions of getting laid (no smut), fluff!! please mind that english isn’t my first language. 1.5k words

james was truly smitten. he couldn’t not ogle at you at any given moment, heart eyes following you around every single room or corridor, sighs of pure admiration leaving his lungs whenever you would talk to him at breakfast or lunch while his head rested on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.

but who was to blame him? you were just so pretty, your hair swaying lightly as you rushed to class, your hand accidentally brushing his as you stepped past him.

„why the rush, darling?“ he asked, keeping up with your pace as well as he could, still tired from last night which had lasted longer than it should’ve; peter, remus, sirius and him too busy sneaking around the castle and setting up shenanigans to sleep. at least there wasn’t ever a single day of boredom with them in the castle.

butterflies erupted in your stomach at the nickname, but you tried to suppress it the best you could. he managed to fluster you with his little pet names everytime without exception, and every yet so small sliver of hope you would get from them, you’d kill off. you’d go mad, otherwise.

„i’m hurrying to class james,“ you smiled at him, „and i think you should be too.“, grabbing his arm to pull him with you. you couldn’t see the way he blushed at your action, and he was glad. it was embarrassing how in love with you he was, considering the amount of attention other boys were giving you.

he could understand, obviously. it was already hard to not fall for your looks, but the fact your bubbly and inviting personality was just as perfect? how could anybody not fall for that? he was sure the sole reason remus and sirius saw you as only a friend was because they knew how enamored with you he was.

but you didn’t know. „he’s just a very sweet and nice person“ was what you said to lily when she asked you about it. you liked him, no question. but you saw the way he would flirt with other girls at parties and in hogsmead, occasionally winking at them even though lily and you were walking just next to him. so to you, he was just a friend, even though you would easily smother him in kisses if he ever just bought you flowers or opened doors for only you like the other stupid guys always did, not only as a friendly gesture but as something more.

you realized he wouldn’t, so there was no point in waiting for him. instead, while he was busy chatting with different girls at parties, you were seated in a quiet corner, talking to your girlfriends and having a drink or two yourself, dancing with guys here and there if they asked you nicely and sometimes, if they were being very polite, you’d give them a tiny kiss on the cheek and a little wave before getting another butterbeer and walking back to your friends once again.

that was probably what made you so irresistible, the fact you would never go as far as even giving a little peck on the lips while other girls were ready to go back to the dorm with said guys. you weren’t one to judge, neither the girls nor the boys, they could do whatever they want, it wasn’t your business. and if they wanted to get laid and got the chance, why not do it? just not with you.

however, they thought you were playing hard to get on purpose, and who wouldn’t be up for a challenge when it’s about a girl like you?

but even when every guys’ head turned to look at you whenever you entered the room, you didn’t care. you didn’t even notice, you were just living in the moment, deeply into the meaningful - or sometimes meaningless - banter with your friends, not a single care in the world.

well, for some reason one nerve of yours always got very terribly struck whenever you would lift your head only to see james‘ hand steadied on some other gryffindor‘s back. „whatever“ was what you always thought, head turning back to whoever was talking right now.

and it didn’t take long for james to leave your mind, at least until you were laid down on your bed at three in the morning where james would haunt your mind in ways you wouldn’t dare to say out loud.

„you got a date for the party today yet?“ he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he possibly could. „i prefer to go with my friends, as you already know.“

„well, we are friends, no?“

„class starts in a few, we can talk later.“ you said to him, avoiding his eyes as you made your way over to lily who was already sitting at your usual place in the charm‘s classroom, her hands immediately going to fix the little ribbon in your hair when you sat down to her right. she must’ve seen that you were in a rush just a few seconds ago, and the confused look on your face didn’t go unnoticed either. „what’s up with you, you look-“

„james just asked me on a ‚date‘, i think“ you stated, but it came out rather like a question while you knitted your eyebrows in a puzzled manner.

„well, i told you before he has a thing for you“

„but i don’t believe it“

„why not? it’s basically written on his face that he’s head over heels for you“

you were just about to reply, a look of disapproval already plastered on your face, but got interrupted by the professor. after the lesson the topic was already forgotten, lily and you talking about what you were going to wear tonight rather than the, to you very ridiculous, james situation.

it wasn’t until the party, which you attended hand in hand with lily, that james and you began to talk again. you were just about to get yourself another firewhiskey shot when he appeared right next to you at the small bar counter.

„how come you always reject when you get asked out?“

the question caught you off guard. he wasn’t the first to ask you that question, but you’ve never felt so called out after someone interrogated like that. your eyes widened slightly and you nervously bit your lip. what were you supposed to answer? „i realized i don’t have a chance with you so i gave up on relationships completely“?

„i just don’t want to date someone i don’t like like that, i guess.”

it wasn’t a lie, after all. you could just simply wait until the feelings faded, and then maybe you would be open for something new. until then, you would just have to keep on pretending like your feelings towards him did not exist.

„i suppose you don’t like me, then?“

„what?“

„you rejected me too today, didn’t you?“

you were startled by his questions, and suddenly it felt like it was just you two in this actually very crowded common room, the air around you feeling tighter and more stifling than usual.

„do you like me, james? like, like-like me? because everybody’s been telling me but i feel like i’m going crazy because i like-like you but you keep flirting with other girls and you wink and wave at them and you put your arms around them and i hate that but i don’t want things between us to be weird because i don’t want to lose you as a friend eith-“ you stumbled over your words in hurry, every nerve of yours spinning and pulling and you could feel your own face heat up.

“you like me?”

“i- uh- i asked first!” your heard was racing and you hoped to merlin that he felt the same way and you didn’t just make a fool out of yourself, confessing to a guy who doesn’t even see you like that.

he didn’t exactly answer the question, but he showed you.

his eyes were full of appreciation as he leaned down to you, gently caressing your face as he pressed his lips against yours. and finally, you felt at peace with your own feelings. your lips continued to move in sync until you heard a few claps behind you which broke you apart. when you turned around, you found sirius winking at you and lily eyeing you with a proud look on her face.

it was only when you faced james again that you saw the way he actually looked at you all this time, with his head resting on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.

“of course i like-like you, how could i not?”

[static-radio-ao3]

jegulus microfic // words: 1.5k // cw: drinking, implied sexual content

sometimes you just have to make out with a hot guy at a party and if that hot guy happens to be your best friend's brother, well...

James watches with laser focus as Regulus’ tongue slips from between his lips. He has a half-done cigarette in his fine-boned fingers and licks a long stripe along the length of the rolling paper.

Regulus rolls it up with practiced ease, making James' eye twitch, and he passes the cigarette off to Barty.

“Thanks, baby boy,” Barty says as he pushes himself off the too-low couch across the room and wanders to the open window so he can lean outside to smoke.

He flicks open his mildly offensive lighter and James nearly wishes Barty would take a little tumble, but his horniness hasn’t quite shifted into homicidal tendencies so he takes a steadying breath and tells himself to fucking relax.

His eyes shift back to Regulus, who is rolling a new cigarette, presumably for Evan. James wishes he could zoom in, just to get a closer look at how nimbly Regulus spreads the tobacco in the rolling paper.

“You know, you could at least pretend to listen to me,” Sirius complains with a shove to James’ shoulder. His beer nearly sloshes out of the bottle with the sudden movement.

“Sorry. I was,” James says. “Listening, I mean. Not pretending to. I got… distracted.”

“What on earth could be more important than me right now?” Sirius questions, shifting in his seat and pressing his cheek against James’ so he can follow his line of sight. His skin is soft and warm and the familiar scent of amberwood fills James’ nostrils.

It doesn’t take long for Sirius to realize what James was zeroed in on. “No,” he gasps, falling back into his seat with a betrayed gasp.

“I’m just—” James starts, but Sirius’ withering look silences him with ease.

“Just what?”

“Just looking!”

“Look elsewhere! Literally anyone else, I beg of you.”

“Remus,” James says immediately, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

Sirius’ face falls minutely. “Okay, except for Remus.” His eyes shift off to the side, as if picturing something, and then he adds, “Although…”

“No,” James is quick to interrupt. He shoves Sirius’ face away for good measure, fingers damp with condensation from his glass beer bottle. “Nip that thought right in the bud.”

“Whose butt are we nipping?” Remus asks, because of course he chooses this very moment to reappear. He stands in front of them, hands on his hips and eyebrow cocked.

Sirius turns to face Remus, not unlike a flower to the sun or a moth to a flame.

“James is ogling my brother.” His tone is accusatory and petty, but his eyes are molten ice when he looks at Remus.

Remus leans in to press a quick kiss against Sirius’ waiting mouth and James also purses his lips in a mocking invitation, but Remus settles for flicking his forehead instead.

He surveys the seating arrangement and after a moment, he settles on the armrest of the couch. It’d be a tight fit with the three of them on there and the party is keeling on the wrong side of too hot. A smoky haze fills the room and the thumping bass makes the floor hum with every song.

“Ogling is a strong word,” James argues. “I think admiring is more accurate.”

“From a distance. A long, long distance. In fact,” Sirius says as he turns to face James again, “how about we move to another room?”

“Actually,” Remus says, “that’s precisely why I came here… Do you wanna…?” He lets the sentence trail off suggestively, fingers slipping into the ripped fabric of Sirius’ jeans. James watches as a barely-there shiver skitters its way up Sirius’ spine and his eyes flutter shut at the slight touch.

Sirius wastes no time shoving his full beer bottle into James’ hands while Remus gets up. Over Sirius’ shoulder, James mouths a silent thank you at Remus, who simply winks at him in return.

Sirius wiggles his fingers at Remus in a silent request to be pulled off the couch, but before they leave James to his thoughts, Sirius whirls on him again. “No funny business with my brother, okay?”

“None at all,” James swears as solemnly as he can. Hands full with Sirius’ discarded drink and his own, he settles for mentally crossing his fingers.

“All by your lonesome, Potter?” Regulus asks, dropping onto the couch with a quiet oof. James glances up just in time to see his best friends disappear around a corner.

His gaze settles on Regulus, on the dark shade of his shirt and how it brings out his eyes. And his collarbones.

James hums, not quite trusting his voice. He takes a sip of his beer for liquid courage and if it turns into more of a swig, well, who’s to say?

“Knocking ‘em back pretty fast, huh?”

“This one’s Sirius’. He disappeared with Remus to go do unspeakable things to each other’s bodies.”

“Might need to steal that from you just to get that image out of my head,” Regulus says, those nimble fingers James was eyeing earlier appearing in front of him and deftly plucking the bottle from James’ hand. “Thank you very much.”

“I do hate to suffer alone,” James says, tipping his own beer toward Regulus in a cheer.

“Can’t have that, can we?” And Regulus taps their bottles together.

The clink of the glass is drowned out by the loud music —something about releasing one’s inhibitions?— but James feels it down to his bones.

“Enjoying the party?” James asks, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. He brings the bottle to his lips again just to keep more stupid words from tumbling out, letting them fall into the drink instead.

“Come on, Potter, your game has to be better than that,” Regulus says, head lolling on the back of the couch lazily. His hair tousles with the movement, careless waves of inky black spilling across his forehead.

“What do you mean?” James asks, hands tightening around his drink to keep from doing something insane like reaching out and fixing Regulus’ hair.

“Everyone knows you never leave a party alone. No way people fall for that line.”

“It’s not a line.”

“No?” Regulus asks, sitting up straight again. “You genuinely want to know if I’m enjoying the party?”

James hums. Lifts his shoulders in a shrug. A wordless What can I say?

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

Regulus’ mouth, usually down-turned, tugs down even more. It would look like a pout if it weren’t for the fact that the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

“You wanted me to use a line on you?” James asks.

This time, Regulus hums. Lifts his shoulders in a shrug. A wordless What can I say?

“This might surprise you, but I don’t need to use lines on people to get them to come home with me. Some people are into me, if you’ll believe it.”

Regulus’ face says that he does believe it. His mouth says, “Maybe you can give me some pointers on mine, then.”

James scoffs, turned on beyond belief and trying valiantly to drown it out. “Happy to.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They’d inched together unknowingly until the space between them had shrunk to near-nonexistence. The world starts and ends in the breath between their faces, Regulus’ lips a focal point.

Instead of replying again, James catches Regulus’ mouth in a kiss, hot and heavy from the beginning. He blindly sets his drink aside and hopes that it doesn’t get knocked over. Then again, he has other things on his mind than potentially staining the carpet.

With both hands free, he is able to shift on the couch. One hand comes up to cradle the back of Regulus’ head while the other moves to his hip as if magnetic. He can’t help the thrill of excitement when he realizes his hand fits just right.

He faintly hears someone whoop but then Regulus’ hands shift from James’ back to the sides of his face. He gently knocks his glasses askew in the process, but that’s fine. James doesn’t need to be able to see to do this.

There is nothing else in the world but this. Them.

Eventually, Regulus’ hands end up in his hair, and he pulls James back with a mean fist.

“What?” James asks, punched out and breathless.

Regulus doesn’t say anything, just pushes James back against the couch and moves to straddle him. It takes James no time to get with the program, hands changing course to settle on Regulus’ thighs.

James isn’t sure how much time passes. All he’s sure of is the comforting weight of Regulus on his lap, the feel of Regulus’ tongue in his mouth, and the warmth of Regulus’ hands on his face.

The earth could explode and James is fairly sure he wouldn’t realize, too caught up in the heady path Regulus is tracking down the side of his neck.

A needy sound spills from his mouth, hands clenching on Regulus’ things, and Regulus is quick to meet him in another kiss.

“James!” Sirius’ voice filters into his ears from somewhere behind him a lifetime later and the sound of the party rushes back in pieces.

Music.

Chatter.

The crash of a vase toppling over.

“I told you, no funny business!” Sirius whines, reaching out to smack the back of James’ head, and James can’t help the way he bites into Regulus’ lip on impact.

With a disgruntled groan, Regulus pulls back. “We’re not laughing,” he says, lips pink and breath stolen.

Sirius’ reply is indignant, surely, but James can’t hear anything except for the sound of his heart thundering in his ears when Regulus leans in again to kiss him.

He’ll apologize in the morning.

Or not.

[lavenderspence]

her possessive trigger | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader | Word Count: 1.5K

Content warning: professor!spencer, jealousy, a lil bit of possessiveness, cuteness at the end

Summary: they could look at him all they wanted, but they needed to know he was yours. or the reader announces to spencer's students that he's taken

A/N: this was actually written back in june and i’m just now coming around to posting it. But lavenderspence writing for her husband spencer is back. Heavily inspired by my love for professor!reid and my desire to slap all of his student fangirlies and proclaim him as my own in a heavily possessive manner. you too? Oh, enjoy then🤭

masterlist

The auditorium was dark when you first walked in. His voice rang around the space, successfully gathering the attention of everyone present. Words like “victimology”, “modus operandi” and “signature”, the same ones you’d used for years, left him in quick succession, as did their explanation and usage in your profession.

He was captivating, an educator’s role suited him just right, but that was hardly new information. You’d seen him thrive on sharing his knowledge for years, be it as an FBI agent, or as a guest lecturer over the years. 

When he’d been offered to take on a class for the semester, alongside his work with the BAU, he’d been more than happy to. 

He loved it, and he told you as much regularly. And even if he didn’t, you’d still be able to tell. He loved challenging young minds, hopefully shaping the next generation of BAU profilers. 

His students loved him too, that much was evident in the way they hung onto his every word and explanation. Their hands raised with questions, taking part in the discussion, and diligently taking notes. They were dedicated to their studies, and to the subject Spencer taught. 

Or, most of them were. 

The other part, multiple young women it seemed, were far more dedicated to checking him out, than the class itself. 

You didn’t need it spelled out for you, you didn’t even need to see their faces. The art of reading people from a distance was deeply engraved into your being after years of working with the best. And then another part of it was your love for the man at the front. 

Your eyes ran around the room, the profiler in you working over time. 

Two brunettes sat near the front, third row, right side of the auditorium. Both their bodies turned towards the center of the room, following along with Spencer’s movement. One was casually leaning back in her seat, trying her hardest to mask her interest in her professor, and for anyone less vigilant, she might have been successful.

The girl next to her twirled a piece of hair around her finger, head moving left and right, but judging by the lift of her cheek, you could tell she was smiling, probably a little shily. It wouldn’t surprise you if her eyelashes fluttered too. 

A row in front of them sat a blond, hand constantly touching her hair, or her face, even fanning it. It was mid-March, the room wasn’t hot, but quite the contrary, a bit chilly. 

And then there was a girl, a few places to the left of the blond, whose hand was constantly in the air. Her voice was smoky, with questions that hardly contributed to the topic at hand, but Spencer let her ask them anyway. He even went so far as to answer as he would any other question.

Even though you knew he’d long ago picked up on her behavior, much like you had, he still indulged her, just like any good educator would. She looked just a tad too interested in the class, but maybe far more interested in him. If you had to guess, she had it bad, judging by the way she readjusted in her seat, every time her eyes met Spencer’s, even for a second. 

You knew Spencer was handsome, maybe even more so than that. He was beautiful in ways you found hard to explain sometimes. His curls, soft and golden-looking in the sun, the barely there scruff you could still feel against your palms and lips as you kissed him goodbye this morning. The suit, and how well it fit him, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and the cardigan vest that made him look soft, when you knew he was anything but when needed. 

But there was so much more beauty on the inside, just as long as you wanted to see it. A heart that spans miles, big, always ready to give, but rarely willing to take. A godfather, proud to be one, and a smile that could light up whole skies, out of happiness, out of love. Your own little search engine in a body, facts, and statistics, as long as you wanted to listen, and you always did. 

How he was with you, his love like no other, and his eyes lighting, the green in them even more prominent, just with you in the room. How calm he was, whenever in your presence. Patient, even when you couldn’t be, and he could bring you back down from any ledge you found yourself stuck on, or whatever worry sat heavily on your mind. 

He brought out the best in you, and you let the best of him out too. 

And even knowing him as well as you did, and loving him as much as your heart allowed you to, and knowing how he loved you, with everything he could, there was a part, if small at that, that couldn’t help, but feel taken aback by this behavior. 

Maybe taken aback wasn’t the right word, but jealous felt more appropriate. 

There was no need for those feelings to arise, insecurities that bore no weight. Your relationship was as secure as the sun was bright if the stunning rock on your finger was anything to go by. 

But maybe it wasn’t really jealousy either, but the desire to protect, maybe even to possess. 

It sounded ridiculous, to an extent, because Spencer could protect himself just fine. He wasn’t an object that could be picked up from a shelf, and owned. 

He was your equal, in every way that counted, your other half, your best friend, your closest confidant. 

And maybe that’s where that protectiveness stemmed from.  

Because as you looked around, women, without knowing him, and who he was beyond his looks, and as deep as you and your BAU family knew him, sat there, gawking. 

And as the lecture was coming to a close, the desire to cement the fact that Spencer Reid was happily in love, and soon to be much more than just a boyfriend, arose. It was petty, very much so, but at that moment, pettiness won over. Because the man in front, the same one those students were thirsting over, was very much your own, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

“Before we end today’s lecture, any questions?” 

No hands rose at the question, except one, your own. 

He pointed at you, giving you permission to ask the question, and his hand reached for the light switch. 

Just as you started speaking, the room was illuminated in light, and his eyes focused on yours, and you winked.

“Uhm, Dr. Reid, I was wondering, do you happen to have a girlfriend?” A silence so defeating followed, as every head turned in your direction as you stood from your seat. Spencer, the dork smiled big, and then he laughed, surprised, and maybe a little bit proud at that moment. His laugh was rich, attracting a part of the attention back to him, as you started walking in his direction. 

“Wasn’t expecting a guest lecturer today,” He raised a brow just as you reached him, and you just shrugged, smiling. “Class, this is Supervisory Special Agent Y/L/N” Spencer introduced you, as you looked on over his class. 

“Soon to be SSA Y/L/N - Reid” You added, looking at his students sitting in multiple stages of processing the information. He laughed, and instead of looking shy or even embarrassed by the display, he just looked happy, and proud. Maybe it was the knowledge of the fact that you were his, and his desire for everyone to know. 

Soon after that, he dismissed the class and you watched as the auditorium emptied, students turning to look at you both as you pulled him into a big hug, followed by a gentle kiss. 

When you separated, he looked at you with a huge smile, lifting a brow, “You really couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He picked your hand, bringing it to his lips to lay a kiss right on your ring before he rubbed it with his thumb. 

“No, no I couldn’t. They were looking at you like you were a piece of meat on a platter.” Your reply was swift, a smile just as big.

“Is that jealousy I detect, and a bit of possessiveness?” He was amused by the fact that you wanted to stake some kind of claim on him in front of his students, but secretly, he felt happy you loved him enough to do it

“Noooo…” You didn’t meet his eyes, playing stupid, but you knew he saw right through you.

“Wait until I tell Morgan about this,” He said as he picked up his satchel. 

“Aww, that’s just mean, Dr. Reid.” He pulled you towards the exit, arm wrapped around your waist, possessively. You may have seen the girls looking at him, but he saw the boys checking you out just the same. 

Maybe that was why he felt happiness when you stated you weren’t just a colleague, but rather his soon-to-be wife.

“Don’t I know it, Mrs. Reid.” And then he pulled you into another kiss, this time, a little more urgent, and very much possessive.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[meowpupp]

as a thank you for hitting 1k followers, and an apology for my absence, I would like to share my take on poly!141.

poly141! x recruit!reader. 1.5k words. mentions of sex, although no smut. yet.

you're a sweet little thing. smart as a whip, nerdy, and confident. having spent most of your post highschool graduate years studying, youve acquired numerous impressive qualifications. while most people your age in university were out partying, getting blind drunk, hooking up, you were studying.

a tech genius. that's what laswell had sold you as to price. he had been hesitant to allow any new members at all, especially ones so young. and yet, taskforce 141 sees two new additions. the newest little tech genius who's climbing quickly through the ranks, and another soldier. someone by the name of roach.

at first, you weren't amused. as a woman in the military, your life was already difficult enough. being assigned to an all male taskforce felt like your worst nightmare. but after some convincing from laswell, and realizing this would be the fastest way to make a name for yourself, you sign the papers.

your first week is smooth, albeit awkward. you and the other new recruit, roach, get along fairly well. he's funny, a little dorky, but obviously skilled. he isn't as intimidating as the others, being almost as young as you. you find yourself gravitating to him often, often staying up late together, eating meals together, and even training together. you make quick friends.

and so, it's only natural that you both end up becoming… closer. late night talks turn into makeouts, and makeouts turn into grinding. it's somewhat clumsy however… as if the two of you can quite place the power dynamics.

the others, however, are much more of a challenge to get along with. you're cautious, aware these men have been in this business much longer than you. the four of them- price, ghost, gaz, and soap- are a power unit. it takes weeks for you to find your place within the team.

price tries to be welcoming, although it doesn't quite work. there's this sense of authority and power around him that makes you feel small, almost submissive. his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine each time he speaks over comms, panties growing wet each time he gives you a direct order.

it's almost as if he knows, whispering your name rather than your military nickname. his voice sounds almost seductive. it makes you feel like a pervert, imagining him growling in your ear each time you get off.

price has a way of always remaining in control and not just with you. the power dynamics within the task force are subtle yet well established. there seems to be a chain of command that follows their ranks. price on top, then ghost, then gaz and soap. you notice how they all drop casual innuendos, their affection for each other, corssing over the boundary of just friendliness.

ghost barely looks, let alone, speaks to you for the first month. you're unsure if he even likes you. on the field, he's sharp and alert. you occasionally hear him share banter with the others, but never feel brave enough to join in. the man is intimidating, almost three times your size, a quiet sort of confidence and dominance that follows him around. he's the one you train with most often.

ghost is ruthless. he slams you into the matt, somehow always ending up between your thighs, his big hands holding them apart and pinning you down. you can't help but memorise the sight. your Lieutenant, panting, slightly sweat as he holding you in such a lewd position, glaring down at you.

it's your favourite fantasy to think about late at night as you touch yourself, unaware that the walls are so thin that ghost himself hears you whimper his name. he strokes himself in time with the slick noises of your cunt, imagining how desperate you must look.

gaz isn't intimidating, per say. he isn't distant like ghost or unapproachable like price. the man has such a casual confidence and arrogance around him. he's the first to speak to you, ask you about yourself. throughout your career, you've met many military soldiers. most the men fit into two categories, misogynistic dicks who don't believe you have a place within the ranks, or disgusting perverts who want a quick fuck (most of them have wives, even kids.) but gaz is refreshing. he fits into neither.

he often starts conversations with you. asking questions and truly listening as you speak. little do you know he records each one, saving them for when he's alone late at night. something about the way you speak, your tone, the quiet rasp or accent, it makes him stupidly hard. he's not above recording you while you workout, standing just close enough to capture each huff and grunt as you lift. it's those recordings that get him off the quickest, wondering how whiny youd sound if he held a vibrator to your clit, didnt let up until you were crying and covered in slick.

and soap. the man is difficult for you to read. your first impression is that he's one of those men who fit into the ‘misogynistic asshole’ category. apart from your initial meeting, he practically ignores you.

you can tell its not deliberate. he just seems more immersed in the natural, pre-established dynamic of the taskforce. the one that doesn't include you. it takes a while, but after a month or two, your interactions become more common.

he turns out to be very respectful- even helpful. due to your background in tech, you skipped a few ranks when you joined. soap helps you in the shooting range. standing behind you, body pressing into yours from behind, correcting your posture before you fire.

you even create games with each other. he gives you little quizzes. theyre normally about gun components, military jargon, or even field upgrades. with each quiz he promises a ‘reward.’

its embarrassing whenever you blush and grow wet when he says it. the rough growl of his voice, combined with the accent he has, all makes you dizzy. you don't even notice how he plays it up, practically purring out the word, smirking as you squirm, making sure to graze his fingertips over your hot skin.

it's obvious that after a month or two, that roach is significantly more acclimated than you. it feels unfair. your relationship with each member is steadily growing, yet something about how roach interacts with them is so different. it's like you're missing a puzzle piece.

it isn't until one night when you're venting your frustration that roach reveals the reason he's clicked with them so quickly.

“It's like an initiation,” he smirks, eyes flicking away from you, “think of it kind of like…. hazing.” his eyes are almost predatory as he meets yours again, so unlike the goofy persona he usually has, “if you like, I could speak to price. they have started to discuss inviting you in.”

it's as if everything made sense now. it wasn't your fault. it was another case of discrimination, you being left out because you didn't fit into their stupid boys club.

ever since that conversation with roach, you have become frustrated, irritable, and short with them all. you fulfilled all your required tasks but refused to engage with them any further. denying invites to the pub, ignoring gaz when he tried to speak, training alone, no longer asking soap for help.

after about a week of this, price calls you to his office.

a sick sense of unease and anxiety settles in your gut. the man is so intimidating, and this surely wasn't a positive meeting. you've never been in a position like this. all throughout school, you were a grade A student, and within your years in the military, you've always maintained basic respect and politeness. you've never been in trouble with a CO.

when you step into his office, however, all your expectations are subverted. price sits at his desk, smoking a cigar. roach leans against it next to him. the two of them are speaking lowly.

price notices you first. his eyes carry an emotion you haven't seen before. lust. he's staring at you as if you're some sort of prey. with a smirk, he blows out a large puff of smoke. it curls around him, only making him more intimidating.

“if you were feeling excluded, sweetheart, you should've made me aware.” he leans back in his chair. suddenly, the room feels so small, your body getting hot, “id be more than happy to include you.”

roach walks towards you, guiding you further into the office. he doesn't let you sit, however, instead standing behind you, hands groping your hips. his fingertips slip under your shirt, brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach.

he kisses your neck, “price wants to see how pretty you are,” his hands slide further up, taking your shirt off, “let's give him a show, yeah?”

cont.

[raekensluver]

jealousy's game

description: plotting to make your ex jealous at a party, you pick the last person anyone could expect. theodore nott.

pairing: theodore nott x slytherin!fem!reader

contains: partying, drinking, mentions of smoking, mention of past relationship, jealous ex, kissing, cocky theo!

song rec: MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT by elley duhé- "just call my name, i'm yours to tame"

w.c: 1.5k

an: saw the above pic of lorenzo on pinterest and i knew i had to write something about him at a party.

the slytherin common room was a whirlwind of shadows and light, the flickering candles casting an eerie glow across the sea of faces, all twisted in various expressions of amusement and mischief. the air had the scent of alcohol and smoke, a potent cocktail that seemed to fuel the already boisterous spirits of the partygoers. the music thumped through the ancient stones, a bass line that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of the castle.

you wove through the crowd, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble. as the leader of your own little slytherin clique, it was your duty to keep an eye on things and ensure that your gathering didn't devolve into chaos. but tonight, your attention was snagged by something far more personal. in the corner, your ex, a boy whose name you refused to let yourself remember, had his hands all over a giggling girl, their lips locked in a display that was no doubt for your benefit. his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smug grin playing across his features. he knew you were watching, and he reveled in it.

you felt a spark of anger, a flare of indignation, but you weren't about to let him win. not here, not now. you had moved on, grown stronger, and you wouldn't let his pettiness tarnish your night. your gaze slid over to theo nott, the charming rogue with a silver tongue and a penchant for drama. he was surrounded by a flock of eager girls, his laughter a siren song in the smoky air. you approached him with purpose, tapped him on the shoulder, and leaned in close. "theo," you whispered, your voice low and sultry, "i need a favor."

his eyes glinted with mischief as he turned to face you, the champagne bottle in his hand paused mid-pour. "oh?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow. "and what might that be?"

you nodded in the direction of your ex, the corners of your mouth curling into a smirk. "i want to show him i'm not bothered. make it convincing."

theo's eyes followed your gaze, and he took in the sight of the boy with a knowing look. he set the champagne bottle down, his hand brushing against yours as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "alright," he murmured, "let's give him a show he won't forget."

his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you into him with a confidence that sent a thrill down your spine. your ex's eyes widened, his smug smile faltering for a moment before it transformed into a scowl. you felt a twinge of satisfaction, but you didn't let it show on your face. instead, you tilted your head back, laughing at something theo whispered, playing the part of the enamored girlfriend to perfection.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was the perfect blend of passion and playfulness. theo's touch was light, teasing, as if he was daring you to break the act first. your heart raced, not from the kiss itself, but from the challenge of keeping up the charade. you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss slightly, your eyes never leaving your ex's.

his hands tightened around your waist, and you felt his body tense, the heat of his anger palpable. theo, ever the showman, didn't miss a beat, his eyes fluttering closed as he kissed you more fervently. the crowd around you cheered, the sound of their applause and whistles blending with the throb of the music. it was a heady sensation, one that made you feel alive and in control.

you pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in your eye. "is that convincing enough?" you asked theo, your voice barely audible over the din.

he grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "oh, i think we've got his attention," he said, nodding towards your ex, who was now red-faced and glaring at the two of you. "but why stop there?"

you couldn't help but laugh, the sound a little too genuine for the situation. theo's arms remained around you, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. "fine," you said, playing along. "let's really make him squirm."

theo took your hand and led you to the makeshift dance floor, where bodies moved in a rhythmic frenzy. the music swelled around you, the beat matching the pulse of your heart. you danced with him, your movements calculated and sensual, every step and sway a silent message to your ex. theo's hands were sure and firm, guiding you with an ease that was surprisingly comforting. your ex's gaze was a fire that burned into you, but you didn't let it get the best of you. instead, you leaned into theo, letting your bodies meld together in a dance that was more of a performance than anything else.

his hands roamed your back, his touch a whisper against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. you matched his every move, your hips swaying in sync with his. the other dancers parted around you, creating a bubble of space, as if the two of you were the only ones in the room. the music grew louder, the lights dimmer, and the world outside the party faded away. for a moment, it was just you and theo, locked in a dance of spite and rivalry.

but as the minutes ticked by, something began to shift. the anger that had fueled your actions started to give way to a different kind of heat, one that had nothing to do with spite and everything to do with the chemistry that had always crackled between you two. theo's eyes searched yours, the playfulness replaced with something more intense. the kiss had been a ruse, but the dance had become something real.

his hands slid down to the small of your back, pressing you closer, and you felt your breath hitch. your ex was forgotten, lost in the haze of theo's embrace. your movements grew more natural, less forced, your bodies moving together as if they had always been meant to. the music was a siren's call, and you were lost in its seductive rhythm.

his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer still. theo's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something there that made your heart race: desire, raw and unfiltered. it was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, the only one that mattered.

his hand slid up to cradle your neck, his thumb brushing against your jawline in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. you leaned into his touch, unable to resist the magnetic pull that had always existed between the two of you. your ex's presence was a distant memory, a forgotten plot point in a story that had taken a turn you hadn't expected.

theo's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was the same burning need that was reflected in his own. you tipped your chin up, parting your lips slightly, inviting him to close the gap between you. he didn't need any more encouragement than that. his mouth found yours again, this time with a hunger that was unmistakable. the kiss was no longer a show, it was a declaration, a silent promise of passion and fire.

but just as you felt yourself getting lost in the moment, a hand roughly yanked you away from theo. you stumbled, breaking the spell, and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of one of your best friends. "what the hell are you doing?" she hissed, pulling you through the crowd and away from the dance floor.

you blinked, your cheeks flushing as reality crashed back down around you. the room was spinning, a dizzying mix of lights and shadows. "i-i don't know," you stammered, your voice breathless. "i just wanted to make him jealous."

your friend's eyes went wide, a grin spreading across her face. "oh my god, you two were on fire!" she squealed, her grip on your arm tightening. "i can't believe it! you and theo nott!"

you managed a small laugh, your cheeks still flushed from the dance. "it was just to make him jealous," you murmured, trying to convince yourself more than her. but the thrill of the kiss, the way theo's hands had felt on your body, made it difficult to maintain the facade.

your friend's squeal grew louder, drawing the attention of several nearby partygoers. "are you kidding me?" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "you and theo nott? that's the juiciest gossip this party has seen in ages!"

you rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. "it's not like that," you said, though your voice wavered. "it was just to get back at my ex."

but the look in theo's eyes as he watched you being dragged away said otherwise. there was a hunger there, a yearning that you couldn't ignore. the dance had changed something, and suddenly the lines between friends and enemies, lovers and rivals, had blurred into something unrecognizable.

[nerdy-novelist017]

Trouble (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader)

Bill Skarsgard, covered in blood and acting feral as he violently kills people to avenge the woman he loves?? Yeah, that really did a number on me….but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Eric’s quiet character in the first act so pls enjoy my ramblings! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 1.5k+

Summary- Eric's carefully guarded solitude is disrupted by a bold newcomer who seems to be trouble incarnate.

“I wanna get in trouble.”

A voice, sudden and electric, broke Eric from his reverie as a figure’s shadow fell across the intricate lines and shadows of his drawing. He glanced up hesitantly, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight behind you. His eyes were met with the sight of you – a tempestuous spirit with wild, untamed hair that cascaded around your face like a mane, defying the order and discipline of this facility. There was a glint in your eyes, mischievous and daring, that seemed to challenge the very atmosphere around you. You loomed above him, a figure of restless energy, waiting for a response that he was unprepared to give. 

“What?” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boldness of your intrusion. 

You grinned cheekily, and with an audacity that left him momentarily stunned, you stepped up onto the picnic bench he was perched at, planting yourself so that you were sitting on the table as if it was your own personal stage. Your feet, clad in worn, oversized sneakers rested casually on the seat in a silent declaration of your disregard for rules. “Don’t you?”

Eric blinked at you, his brows furrowed as he hastily pulled his papers closer, as if to shield them from your encroaching presence. “No.”

“No?” you parroted, a suggestive playfulness tone to your voice. “But this place is so boring.” 

He glanced around the yard, taking in the stark reality of the rehab facility, his eyes lingering on the chain link fence with its towering barbed wire glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun. “It’s supposed to be,” he said with cold detachment. “And you’re not supposed to be fraternizing with me.”

You followed his gaze, casting a sly look to the guards who stood at the back door, and a smirk danced on your lips. “Uh oh, I wonder what the consequences for that will be.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes at your attitude. This was how all the newbies were when they came in: brash, defiant and convinced they could outwit the system. They came in with fire in their eyes only for it to be extinguished within days by the crushing reality of their situation. Nobody stayed trouble for long. He watched as their bravado withered, soon to be replaced by resignation. And the ones like you – those who pushed the boundaries with reckless abandon – often found themselves confined to solitary confinement, their spirits slowly eroded by the wright of their own demons. 

“You think I could seduce one of these guards to sneak us in some contraband?” you asked, raising your brow in a conspiratorial way as you nodded toward a pair of male guards standing near the backdoor, idly chatting and sharing a cigarette. 

Eric’s gaze traveled over you, from the oversized, ugly pink sweatshirt that swamped your frame to the untamed hair that framed your face like a wild halo. You spoke of “us” as if any semblance of companionship existed between you too. There wasn’t. It was just him and his solitary existence. He had no need for friends, no desire for connections – especially not from someone like you. 

“No,” he said finally as he returned to his sketch, hoping his blatant disinterest would be enough to drive you away. “You need to get off the table.”

He could feel your eyes on him, your gaze almost too intense. When you tilted your head, studying him in amused disbelief, he knew what was coming. Another newbie thinking they could crack him open like some sort of nut, put together the broken pieces like a puzzle. He kept his attention on the drawing, hoping you’d take the hint and leave him alone. 

“C’mon, you don’t look like someone who’s this much of a stick in the mud.” Your voice was playful, teasing but Eric could sense the challenge beneath it. His silence seemed to fuel you, as if his resistance was exactly what you were hoping for. “What’s your name anyway?”

He hesitated, hating how you were forcing him to interact with you like some needy puppy. “Eric,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the drawing.

“Eric,” you tasted his name on your lips quietly. It grated on him, the way you spoke as if you already knew him, already had him all figured out. “You’re an artist, huh? I bet you’re all dark and broody, right? The strong, silent type?”

His jaw tightened, his pencil pressing a little too hard against the paper. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, but he could feel your words digging right under his skin. Dark and brooding? Strong and silent? You didn’t know anything about him, didnt understand the darkness that lingered in the corners of his mind, the weight of the silence he carried, yet here you were, already trying to pin him down with labels. And typically, Eric didn’t care what anyone else here labeled him with, but your unnervingly amicable voice was something he wasn’t used to. It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. It was annoying. 

Your words struck a nerve. He remained quiet, instead choosing to focus on the shading in the corner of his page, tried to drown out the sound of your voice, but he knew his silence was betraying him. The tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the pencil tightened – it all gave him away, and he could almost feel you noticing it, filing it away for later. God, why couldn’t you just leave him alone? 

Then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper for only his ears to hear. “You know, I think you want to get into trouble. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours before he could stop himself, his heart racing at the sudden intensity in your eyes. And there was something in your gaze that unsettled him. Annoyance flared up first, hot and defensive. But beneath that, he felt a flicker of . . . curiosity. And he hated that too – hated that you were getting under his skin. What the hell did you even know about him? What gave you the right to pry into his life, his thoughts.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorted, his voice sharper than he intended, the words escaping in a rush of defensiveness. 

You shrugged, unbothered by his tone, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Maybe not yet, but I’m good at figuring people out. And I think you’re bored out of your mind here, just like me. You’re dying for something – anything – to happen.”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to look back down at his sketch. “You’re wrong.” 

Even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, and that only served to deepen his irritation. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms overhead, and Eric resisted the urge to glance up. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a little fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to respond, but something about your persistence was unraveling him bit by bit. “That's what got us in here in the first place. 

You paused, and for a second, Eric thought maybe he had finally shut you up. He looked up and caught a flicker of something else in your expression, something serious that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating grin. 

“Maybe,” you said, your voice softer, thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy. “But maybe that’s what will get us out of here too.”

Eric watched as you slid off the table, landing lightly on the ground. For a moment, he thought you might actually leave him alone, and the relief that washed over him was sweet. But then you turned back, hands stuffed into the pocket of that oversized sweatshirt, your grin still in place – though it didn’t seem to reach your eyes quite the same as before. 

“See you around, Eric,” you said before sauntering off, as if you didn’t just turn his whole world upside down in a matter of a few minutes. 

He stared after you, watching as you kicked at the feet of another unsuspecting patient who grumbled at you as you passed. His mind raced, his drawing forgotten, the lines and shadows now blurring together in an indistinct mess. He hated how you so easily managed to disrupt his carefully-constructed isolation, how you made him think about things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wanted to believe you were just another reckless newbie, just another faceless patient in a sea of addicts who would burn out soon enough. But something in the pit of his gut told him you were different – something he couldn’t shake. 

In the silence that followed your departure, Eric was left to grapple with the realization that the trouble you brought was not just a disruption, but a catalyst for change, a challenge to his solitude. And now as he returned to his meaningless drawing, he wondered briefly if perhaps your indelible, chaotic presence was exactly what he needed to rewrite his own story in the hell hole. 

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

Tagging some of you who seemed interested!

@apolloanddaphnis @one-of-thewalkingdead @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @redwitchbitch1 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @mrsalwayswrite

[dixons-sunshine]

Damn Tease | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was an extremely hot day in Alexandria. Luckily, there wasn't much to do, barely anything at all, so you and Daryl decided to do it while everyone else relaxed for a change. However, Daryl soon wished he hadn't offered, because you decided it would be a good idea to get him all worked up—and your tiny shorts and tank top certainly didn't help his mind stay on track.

Genre: Suggestive.

Era: Alexandria, no arc in particular.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes.

Word count: 1.5k.

A/n: For @ghostboneswrites2's writing challenge! It's my first time ever doing one of these so hopefully I did it right lol. I hope you like this! By the way, to my fellow writers, please join if you feel up for it! You can find the post with the prompts and rules here.

The blazing summer sun relentlessly beat down on the world ravaged by the undead. It seemed as if though even the flesh eating monsters that roamed the earth every day had deemed the day too hot to go on their regular cannibalistic ventures, for no rotting corpse could be seen for miles and no loud groan could be heard in the near distance. The Alexandrian occupants had decided that the overly hot day would be spent lounging indoors or on their porches, the tasks of the day luckily not too much and could be left for the next day. However, Daryl had decided earlier that very morning that lounging indoors wasn't an activity that he wanted to partake in, so he went about completing the miniscule amount of tasks around the community. And since you didn't want to spend the day lazing around without him, you decided to join your partner on his stubborn venture.

However, as you brushed past the crossbow-wielding archer to grab one of the crates to bring into the pantry, your behind brushing ever so slightly against his front, Daryl wished you had decided to spend the day like the rest of the community. Although you were helping, and he certainly appreciated your help, you were being a major, hot as hell distraction, and he was two seconds away from dropping the crate of cherries he was carrying, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you back to your shared house to indulge in the fantasies his mind was conjuring up the longer he stared at you.

Daryl felt like a perfect fool for even thinking of things like that while the two of you were supposed to be working. You barely even acknowledged his presence, too caught up with your own tasks to do so, and there he was, ogling you like an inexperienced school boy with a dumb crush on the popular girl. Admittedly, the outfit you had chosen to wear that day certainly didn't help his problem at all. The shorts you were wearing left just enough covered for his imagination to run wild, and your tank top hugged you in all the right ways, your cleavage covered but also showing just enough skin to have him licking his lips to keep them wet. Whether you had worn that particular outfit just to tease him and punish him for not complying with your request to stay indoors that day, he didn't know. What he did know, was that he desperately wanted to tear that shirt from your body, and work his way down to—

“I was thinking,” your voice rang through the air, effectively snapping the huntsman from his provocative train of thought. You had stepped back into the part of the pantry that temporarily housed the crates the two of you were hoisting and sorting out. “Tomorrow, when we go on that run, we should swing by that store we saw a few weeks ago. You know, the one that had all those kiddie pools? It would be nice to bring a couple of them back for the kids so that they don't have to suffer in this weather.”

“Yeah,” Daryl began, his eyes following you as you bent over to pick up your water bottle, your shorts riding up ever so slightly and driving him mad. He should just shoot himself at that moment and spare himself the misery you were putting him through. He cleared his throat, put the crate of cherries he held in his hands down on the ground and tried to focus back on the conversation at hand. “Yeah, sounds good.”

You smiled at him and took a sip from the water bottle that held some cherry flavoured drink you had made that morning with the same cherries the two of you were busy with in the pantry. You accidentally spilled some of the drink, and the droplets trickled down your chin and onto your chest, soon disappearing down your shirt. Daryl's eyes followed the droplets that trickled down your shirt, inhaling sharply when you tried to brush the wetness away, slightly pulling your shirt down and exposing some of your bra. God, you were driving him completely insane.

You looked up again and locked eyes with Daryl, and you smirked slightly at the sight of him. He was tightly gripping the shelf to his right, his knuckles turning white at the force he was bestowing on them. His breathing was heavier than usual, and he not-so-subtly adjusted his jeans. Good, your plan was working.

“Daryl, are you okay?” you asked him ‘innocently’, walking up to him and barely containing your smirk when you heard him inhale sharply. “You look a little flushed. Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

Daryl licked his lips as he stared down at you, his vantage point giving him a clear view down your shirt. However, Daryl forced himself not to think like that. “Yeah, m'fine, Sweetheart. Why do ya ask?” he told you, trying to convince both you and himself. “And m'jus' a lil' hot, s'all. Nothin' to worry 'bout.”

“Are you sure?” you asked him while looking up at him through your eyelashes while maintaining your innocent act.

Daryl nodded quickly. “Yeah, m'sure. Ya dun' gotta worry 'bout me. I'll be alrigh'.”

“Okay, if you're sure.” You took a few steps backwards, sending him a mischievous smile. “By the way, you should probably focus more on sorting out these crates than staring at my ass. And my boobs, for that matter.” Daryl's eyes widened at your words. He started stuttering out words of denial, claiming he wasn't staring, but you simply waved him off. “No need to deny it, Daryl. Besides, I'd be offended if you didn't stare. I didn't wear this outfit for Spencer, after all.”

Realization dawned on Daryl. He shook his head and cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. This was your version of revenge for him deciding not to stay in with you. Under no normal circumstances would you ever wear an outfit like that while doing chores around the community. It all suddenly made perfect sense to the archer.

“Ya did this on purpose?” Daryl asked in an accusing tone, shaking his head when you simply sent him a smug smile. “Yer a damn tease, ya know tha'?”

In a surge of confidence, you dipped down to grab a cherry from the crate Daryl had put on the ground. You stepped forward and looped an arm around Daryl's neck, staring deeply into his ocean coloured eyes as you slowly and sensually bit down into the sweet fruit. A mischievous, teasing smirk rested on your face as you heard Daryl let out a shaky breath, and you pressed your body impossibly closer to your partner's, successfully eliciting a small groan from him when you put just the slightest bit of pressure on his growing erection. “I know,” you whispered in a sultry voice, throwing the stem of the small fruit away to loop your other arm around his neck as well. “That's the whole point. Consider it payback for not staying in with me today. I had so much planned for us today, so many fun activities, but you just had to be your selfless self and do this.”

Daryl gulped and stared down into your eyes, his pupils dilating with each passing second. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening at your words. “Wha' activities did ya have in mind?”

Your smirk widened and you leaned up to let your lips hover over his, just barely grazing against his. Daryl's breathing stopped at that action, his eyes following your every movement. “Well,” you began in a seductive whisper, one of your hands trailing down his chest, his stomach and stopping just above the tent that was forming in his jeans. “Let's just say, it's not exactly something people would consider kid-friendly.”

Daryl's heart sped up at your confirmation. He pulled back from you and turned around to pick up the crate he had put down, before looking back at you expectantly. “We have a job to do. Let's get this over and done with, yeah? Then we can go home. The other chores'll have to wait 'till tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened at the pace he had started working at, the smirk on your face ever present. “What? I thought you wanted to get everything done today. Isn't that why you didn't want to stay in with me?”

“Jus' quit smackin' yer red lips and help me, won't ya?”

You giggled and sprung into action, eager to finish up with what you were busy with and to return home with your partner to do something way more exciting than sorting out crates. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” Daryl praised you, sending heat straight down to your core.

Daryl was a selfless man by nature. But just that once, he wanted to indulge in something meant just for him, and that something was the two of you, naked as the day you were born, in bed, limbs tangled together. And Daryl would be damned if he let that opportunity slip between his fingers.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[bunny-1111]

Masterlist - requests are open.

updated daily

Harry potter:

Theodore Nott:

Post game destress (fluff + angst) 1.2k words Theo is angry about his team losing the game, and accidentally takes it out on his girlfriend.

Amortentia (fluff) 700 words Amortentia has its perks

Moving on is not for the weak (fluff + angst) 1.2k words Theo and reader breakup, and when Theo sees reader on a date and regrets everything

Migraines and get better kisses (fluff) 800 words Through an intense Quidditch match, Theo gets hurt and you comfort him

Dark Marks and Forbidden Hearts (original short) (fluff) 1.7k words Theo x Slytherin reader pairing during the uprising of the second wizarding war, you, your boyfriend and your friendship group are forced to become death eaters and follow in the legacy of your parents. You are faced with a challenge that you never would’ve imagined.

Whats become of us? (fluff + angst) 2k words the ups & downs of Teddy and your relationship, a party almost causes its end

Upon closer inspection (fluff) a deep dive into the magical Theodore Nott

Dry your tears (angst + fluff) (sad ish) 700 words Theodore and reader drift apart leading to an emotional breakup

Doctor Nott (fluff) Theodore takes care of sick reader

Forever is ours (fluff) Pressures of the war cause you to lash out; your boyfriend Theo is right there to remind you what you’re fighting for

Mission Impossible (fluff) 1k words Theodore attempts to ask you on a date until you finally give in

Beg for it (angst+fluff) 1.5k words Before break, you had trouble with Theodore. On the train ride back to Hogwarts, he reminds you of the consequences of your actions. Beg for it Part 2 0.9k Returning to Hogwarts after ignoring Theodore all summer long was so much worse than you imagine; Theodore was starving you of what you so desperately needed.

Mr fix it (fluff) 1.65k words. Theodore is protective over his wife and daughter as they accidentally take a fall into the lake under his supervision.

Blow out your candles (fluff+angst) 1.1k words You hate your birthday, your boyfriend Theodore tries to make it the best day for you, but only makes it worse, until...

Falling behind (fluff) 0.8k words Based on the lyrics of "Falling Behind" by Laufey, where the reader feels like everyone's in a relationship. Too blind to notice that Theodore's been waiting for her all along.

Theo wants to marry you (fluff)

Slytherin party, theos gf edition

One Step Ahead (angst, enemies to lovers) 1.2k words You and Theodore hate each other. Amidst exam season, was the tension and the teasing because of your rivalry or something else?

Theodore Nott Who Theodore Nott Who Part 2 Theodore Nott Who Part 3 (protective edition) Toxic Theo who

Dating Theo headcanons Dating Theo headcanons, Part 2

Dating Theo headcanons, Part 3

Dating Theo mood board

Dark Marks and Forbidden Hearts (Ongoing book on wattpad)

Dark Marks and Forbidden Heart, Theo Nott Fanfic, navigation

Slytherin Boys react:

how they reaction to you getting sloppy drunk at a party

How they would say I love you for the first time

How they would react to you crying

How they would hold/cuddle you

Slytherin boys + Pansy as poetry quotes

Slytherin Boys fan edits together

How they would react to you getting into a physical fight with another student

How they react to Snape catching them smoking a j

Slytherin boys and their romantic tropes

Draco Malfoy

Dating Draco Malfoy mood board

Matteo Riddle

Dating Metteo Riddle mood board

Matteo Riddle headcanons Headcanons Part 2

Us on repeat, Angst Matteo gets possessive after seeing reader at party after break up

Pansy Parksinson

Pansy Parkinson mood board

Tom Riddle

dating Tom Riddle mood board

Lorenzo Berkshire

coming soon

[lotusbxtch]

Omg yay! I love the moodboard too. Thanks for the assignment! 😘

Congrats on the 1.5k milestone! For the 1500 Kisses challenge - Hmmmm let’s go with Marcus Pike (specifically Revenge Beard ™️ Marcus) and 10!

thank you 🫶🏻

revenge beard marcus has me 🫠 and #10 is love bites, so i caaaan’t wait to see what you come up with!!!

[fullsandwichmiracle]

Entranced by his touch

Paring: Joost Klein x female!reader 

Description: public bathroom sex with Joost

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, fingering, PnV, unprotected, Sex in Puplic space, being cuaght, one shot

Word count: 1.5K+

You were invited to join Joost and his friend at a club, and you decided to bring some of your own friends along. The night felt electric with possibilities, and you dressed to impress. A short skirt that barely covered you, a black top that revealed a generous amount of cleavage, and high heels to add a bit of height completed your look. You had been with Joost before, and tonight you hoped for a repeat of that excitement.

As you and your girlfriends arrived at the club, the thumping bass of the music welcomed you. The atmosphere was charged with energy. You made a beeline for the bar, ordering a round of shots to kick off the night. The fiery liquid burned its way down your throat, heightening your senses and amplifying your anticipation.

With the shots done, you and your friends headed to the dance floor. The rhythm of the music pulsed through your body as you moved, your eyes scanning the crowd for Joost and his entourage. The lights flashed and bodies swayed, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and motion.

After dancing for a while, you felt a hand wrap around your hips from behind. You turned around, your heart skipping a beat. There stood Joost, a hint of sweat glistening on his brow. He wore a crisp white shirt that contrasted sharply with his sleek black tie and oversized black jeans. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn't help but bite your lip as you took in the sight of him.

His eyes met yours, and the unspoken desire between you was palpable. The night was still young, and the possibilities were endless. You knew you wanted him, and from the look in his eyes, he wanted you too.

"Hey Y/N, so glad you made it," Joost greeted, his voice pulling you from your intense gaze.

"Of course, no one parties like you guys," you said, your voice low and sultry as you took hold of his tie. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," you purred, your fingers teasingly playing with the fabric, a subtle invitation lingering between you.

Joost leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear. "Someone's in quite the mood," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You felt Joost's warm breath against your earlobe, sending a thrill through your body. His closeness intensified the electric tension between you, the pulsing beat of the music fading into the background as you focused solely on each other.

With a playful smile, you leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, your hand still lightly gripping his tie. "Can you blame me?" you whispered back, your voice a mixture of desire and playful challenge.

Joost's gaze intensified, a knowing grin spreading across his lips. "Not at all," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His hand trailed down your arm in a deliberate caress. "Let's find somewhere quieter."

You followed him into the club's bathroom, closing the door behind you as he swiftly unbuckled his belt. With a swift movement, he took it off and used it to tie your hands behind your back.

With your hands now bound behind your back, Joost pressed you gently against the bathroom door, his body close to yours, the heat between you palpable. His lips found your neck in a hungry kiss from behind, his hands roaming over your body with a confident urgency.

The music thudded faintly through the walls as you responded eagerly to his touch wanting him more. 

Joost's fingers swiftly worked at the zipper of your skirt, sliding it down slowly, his touch sending tingles of anticipation down your spine. His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "You dressed all sexy for me, huh?"

You could only moan softly in response, the ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing moment. The belt around your wrists added an exhilarating sense of restraint, heightening the intensity of the encounter.

In the enclosed space, the distant thump of music Joost moved with purpose, his actions stirring a deep yearning within you. Leaning close, his lips brushed against your ear as he murmured, "Tell me what you want."

Your heart raced, and with pleading desire, you responded, "Please, Joost, fuck me."

As the words left your lips, Joost tightened his grip on your wrist. Joost's touch was firm yet tender as he positioned you over the sink, his movements swift and confident. The cool porcelain against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between you. His breath was hot against your neck as he pressed himself closer, the urgency palpable in every touch and caress. 

His fingertip traced along your slick folds, barely hindered by your panties, eliciting a whimper from you. Your whimper only fueled Joost's desire further. With a hungry growl, he pushed your panties aside, his touch more direct and intimate. His fingers explored you with a skilled precision, each caress sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As his finger slipped into you, a loud moan escaped your lips, quickly stifled by Joost's other hand. 

"Shhh, we're in public, schatje," he whispered huskily, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. With a commanding move, he forced one of his fingers into your mouth, gripping your face tightly to make you look into the mirror.

"Such a pretty little slut," Joost growled, adding another finger, the intensity making you moan desperately into his hand.

Joost's grip tightened as he added another finger, stretching and filling you more intensely. Your muffled moans vibrated against his hand, heightening the raw desire coursing through you. His eyes locked onto yours in the mirror, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

"Look at yourself," he commanded, his voice rough with lust. "See how much you love this."

His pace quickened, each thrust of his fingers more forceful, driving you closer to the edge. The sound of your ragged breathing and the slick, wet noises filled the small bathroom, mingling with the distant thump of the club's music.

Joost pulled out his fingers making you whimper  as his hand caressed your body, his touch both possessive and demanding as he explored every curve. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "I want to hear you beg for it."

Your mind was a blur of pleasure and need, the intensity of his touch driving you to the brink. "Please, Joost," you gasped around his finger, your voice muffled but desperate. "I need you."

A dark smile curved his lips as he met your pleading gaze in the mirror. "Good girl," he murmured. In one swift motion, he pulled down his pants and underwear, positioning himself before thrusting his hard erection into you, causing you to let out a moan no longer muffled by Joost's hand. He continued to thrust inside you, one hand gripping your wrists tightly and the other holding your hip with a possessive force.

You whimpered at the intensity of his thrusts until you heard someone tug at the door and knock. "Can you guys stop fucking? I need the toilet."

Joost chuckled darkly, his pace unrelenting despite the interruption. "Seems like we've got an audience," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and teasing. The knock on the door grew more insistent.

"Go somewhere else," Joost yelled back, his focus quickly returning to you. Each thrust was deep and commanding.

The knocking continued, but Joost ignored it, driving into you with relentless intensity, his grip on your hip tightening. "Let them wait," he growled, his voice filled with raw desire. The thrill of being caught only heightened the urgency and intensity between you.

Your body responded eagerly, the combination of pleasure and the risk of discovery sending you into a heightened state of arousal. You could barely hold back your moans, each one louder than the last, as Joost pushed you closer to the edge once again. You caught his gaze in the mirror, and as he noticed, he demanded, "Tell me how much you want it," his voice a rough whisper against your ear. Your mind was a whirlwind of sensation, the pleasure overwhelming as you gasped out your response, your voice trembling with need.

"I want it so bad," you cried, your words barely coherent as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Joost's grin widened at your desperate confession, his thrusts growing even more forceful. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

The intensity of the moment consumed you, your body arching against his with each powerful movement. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure building inside you until you could no longer hold back. Your cries of pleasure filled the small bathroom, drowning out the persistent knocking from outside.

With one final, deep thrust, Joost sent you spiraling into a mind-blowing climax. Your body convulsed around him, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cried out his name. He followed soon after, his own release mingling with yours, the shared ecstasy creating an intense connection between you.

As the echoes of your shared pleasure faded, Joost slowly pulled back, his breath heavy and ragged. He gently untied your wrists, his touch soft and tender now. "You were amazing," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Still trembling, you turned to face him, your eyes meeting in a moment of mutual satisfaction. Despite the risk, despite the interruption, the intensity of your encounter had left you both breathless 

Joost dried you off with some paper meant for drying your hands before pulling up your underwear from the floor and lightly smacking your ass. “Wanna go out and dance?” he said as he fixed himself.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly! Part 2 Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: Tim recruits you to aid in a Metro op. When you ignore his direct orders, you dare him to arrest you, but you have a request.

Warnings: this is pure fluff and banter!! the song reference part is a teeny bit suggestive I guess, but it's completely clean/sfw as always!

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

cop cuties, cute and on duty. navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up. arrest me, but make it sexy.

You’ve been a patrol cop since you completed your rookie training with Tim Bradford. Throughout the last few years of working alone, you’ve trusted him enough to ask for advice, offer to work for him and reach out when he was injured. Most cops don’t stay close to their TO, but Tim was always more than that. Somehow, against his will, you think, you and Tim became friends. He knew from the beginning of your training that you were going to be a great cop, which is why he decided to recruit you for a new job.

“Officer,” Tim greets as you walk into Wade’s office.

“Sergeant,” you reply. “I take it I’m here to see you and not be yelled at by Grey.”

“Why do you need to be yelled at?” Tim asks, raising his brows as he crosses his arms.

“Absolutely nothing, sir.”

“Sure. Metro is working a forgery operation, and we need an extra set of hands. I think you’re the right cop for this job.”

“You do?” you ask, suspicious of why he chose you over the hundreds of other choices.

“Yes. But you get to decide. Do you want to join the team and complete your first Metro op?”

“Yes, sir,” you agree. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“You still have to prove that I’m right,” Tim reminds you. “Gear up, we’re leaving in ten.”

You nod before you exit the office. Working with Tim is something that you’re used to, but not in a Metro team.

“Get to the corner,” Tim orders.

You stay in place, watching the forger. He’s in plain view, waiting for something and checking his watch every minute or so. That makes him dangerous and reckless. The overview that Tim gave you and the Metro squad at the station didn’t place the suspect outside of his studio.

“Corner, now,” Tim repeats.

“He’s outside,” you radio.

“And you’re not in position.”

You huff and move your hand off of your radio. There’s no chance of catching this guy if you move from your current position. Tim is still going off the original, incorrect intel. Not to mention, moving could spook him and ruin this operation.

Tim says your last name over the radio, and you wait for him to continue. “Get in position.”

“There’s no point,” you argue.

Tim radios for someone else to cover his position as he moves toward you. His approach is nearly silent, but as he squats beside you, you don’t look over at him.

“You have to follow my orders out here,” he reprimands quietly.

“Even if they’re stupid orders?” you reply without looking away from the suspect.

“That’s not your call. This isn’t rookie training where you get input because you’re learning. You do what I say or you’re off my team.”

“I understand that.”

“Then get in your position at the corner,” he orders again.

You don’t listen but remain quiet rather than argue with him again. Tim sighs beside you and clenches his jaw.

“Do you remember where you’re supposed to be?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

“Then get into that position and be ready for the next phase of this op.”

“No, Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim looks at the side of your face. He’s had enough of you acting like a partner who can argue with him. As much as he trusts you, you’re still his subordinate and this is unacceptable, especially in the middle of a Metro operation. Leading Metro is the most rewarding yet challenging position he has had as a cop, and he won’t let you compromise his position or the trust his team has in him.

“You know I can still make arrests, right?” Tim asks harshly.

You raise your brows and turn toward him to snap, “So, what; are you gonna arrest me? For what?”

“For disobeying direct orders! I can arrest you now and put you on desk duty and break room fridge refills for the rest of the month.”

You look back at the suspect before you stand. Tim follows your movement, and you lean toward him to push your finger against his chest.

As you crowd him, you dare, “Arrest me, Officer Bradford. But make it sexy.”

Tim looks between your eyes before he grabs your right shoulder. He spins you quickly and pushes you against the cinder block wall behind you. He wraps one hand around both of your wrists behind your back as his other hand rests against your hip, just above your holster.

“You want to say that again?” Tim asks.

“Not that I expect you to know what a real Degas looks like, Officer,” you taunt loudly, “but the gallery you just destroyed is worth more than your life!”

“What are you doing?” Tim whispers in your ear.

“Go with it,” you request.

“Excuse me!” the suspect calls as he approaches you and Tim. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m an art connoisseur, of sorts. What seems to be the problem?”

Tim pulls his handcuffs from his belt and puts them loosely around your wrists. He pulls you away from the wall and against his side as he turns to face the art forger.

“This woman is an art forger,” Tim answers. “So, unless you purchased a Degas painting from her, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I fear that’s impossible,” the man replies. “Degas is nearly impossible to forge. The paint age and brush strokes are dead giveaways.”

“Spoken like a true enjoyer,” you say.

“Shut up,” Tim demands. “Sir, if you’d like to have your art checked by our experts, I’d be happy to make that call for you.”

You nod, a small movement you hope will make the man trust you. The art experts know his signature, so if they can get a look at his work, Tim’s work will be done, and another forger will be behind bars. The crime itself seems too white-collar for Tim’s skills, but a successful arrest is a successful arrest.

“I would appreciate that, Officer,” the man answers. “I can give you access to my collection now.”

Tim radios for the art experts waiting nearby to come in. He keeps a hand around your wrist, his pinky occasionally brushing between your skin and the metal cuff. After the experts enter the warehouse, it only takes two minutes before they radio to Tim that they have the evidence they need.

“You’re in luck, sir,” Tim tells the suspect. “Looks like the only forgeries in there are yours.”

Tim moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls your handcuffs from your belt.

“You’re under arrest for art forgery, possession of stolen goods, and unlawful sale of property,” Tim says as he secures your handcuffs onto the suspect.

Another Metro officer rushes past you and takes the man from Tim to lead him to a waiting patrol car. Tim turns to face you and pulls a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket before he puts them on.

“You’re welcome,” you tell him.

“There are better ways to tell your superior officer that a different approach may be better,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ignoring orders isn’t it.”

“You weren’t listening!”

“I listened at the end. You did well, but don’t ever do that again.”

You smile and step forward until you nearly hit Tim’s folded arms. “Scared I’ll take your job?”

“You are stubborn, uncompromising, and have no respect for authority,” Tim lists. “My position is safe from you.”

You tilt your head to the side and shrug. Tim radios a code 4, then walks away.

“Are you going to take these cuffs off?” you call after him.

Tim turns and stops a step away from you.

“You’re the one that wanted to be arrested,” he replies. He shrugs and asks, “Was that sexy enough?”

“I mean, yeah, it worked,” you answer. “But defying your orders got you the arrest, so…”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Tim begins.

He continues reciting your Miranda rights as he leads you to his car. His hand trails down your right arm as he puts you in the backseat. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, you realize that the handcuff on your right wrist is loose enough you can get your hand through.

“Defying direct orders is wrong,” you muse. “What if I start a verbal flirtation while you take me to your station?”

“I will arrest you,” Tim threatens.

“With what cuffs?” you ask, spinning his on your finger. “You gave yours away and took mine.”

Tim shakes his head and pulls over. He opens the back door, and you hand him his handcuffs as you climb out.

“If I had to get arrested, I’m glad it was with you,” you say before you round the back of the car to get in the passenger seat.

“I was considering mentioning you for a Metro promotion,” Tim begins as he drives back onto the road. “But after that stunt today…”

“You’ll never see me the same?” you guess.

Tim looks over at you, though you can’t see his eyes past his aviators.

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

“You liked it,” you accuse playfully. “Admit it.”

Tim adjusts his sunglasses and says, “Maybe.”

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐝-𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: feyd-rautha was used to have whatever he wanted, it was well known, but so were you; what you desired, was already yours. and what you crave right now, is him. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!reader —word count: 1.5k —warnings: death, mentions of killing, blood, fighting (yk the usual feyd), just the reader and feyd-rautha being horny and a slut for each other.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

yes, i'm finally back!! dune part 2 has dragged me out of my cave and has given me inspiration like never before.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. Everyone knew it, perhaps the whole galaxy was aware of his very eccentric... preferences and appetites. He was well known for his immaculate and animalistic way of fighting, of destroying anyone who dared to present themselves as his enemy, of anyone who would dare to challenge him. But he was also honorable, proud and loyal to his beliefs, perhaps too self-confident for your own liking.

But every strong man had a weakness, a weakness that could bring them to their knees, to yield, to be left vulnerable. You were Feyd's weakness, rather, his strength, his fortitude, the fire in his veins, the beating of his heart. And it was quite strange and utterly unimaginable to think that someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen would have any feelings at all, there were those who firmly believed that he didn't even have a heart, not even a soul, that he was a demon in human form, a ruthless and bloodthirsty beast, the worst of the worst.

But there you were to prove otherwise.

It had been your idea to actually take him as a husband. Your parents disagreed, of course, for they thought you would be better off alone, after all, you were one of the strongest women alive, you didn't need any man or woman by your side. They called you the Golden Dragon, someone with too much power for this world, you had abilities that the world could not really understand yet, connections with the universe that could not even begin to be explained, the last descendant of one of the most ancient Houses, one that had vanished in time, detached from battles and senseless wars for power, a House that was recognized by that flag with the roaring and menacing red dragon on a golden field. That ancient beast that many thought extinct... until you came to Giedi Prime riding one. 

And you had arrived just on his coming of age day, where his favorite ceremony was battles, of course.

You watched him fight the Atreides men from your seat, your mother and father sitting at your sides, watching him as well, all in silence. Your eyes followed his every move, not even pausing for a second to watch the other poor men being annihilated, no, for your attention was solely on Feyd-Rautha, noting the predatory nature of his steps, his precise and powerful movements, eyes darkened with delight, eager for more death and blood. 

"He is a good warrior" Your father commented looking at him in awe as well.

"Too much so, I'd say" Your mother added in a naturally stern voice, distrustful dark eyes, observing the gory spectacle.

"He was born for it" Your father continued to comment, turning his head so he could look at you for a few seconds "For slaughter and death. Only to bring that."

"I think he's cute" you finally stated your opinion, voice low and serene, not even having the audacity to look at your parents, for you didn't have to look at them to know that they were both giving you horrified and scandalized looks now. 

Your father muttered your name in a warning tone of voice.

"He would look good in our home. He's built for fighting and protect, just like us." You explained, finally detaching your eyes from Feyd-Rautha, who had just killed the last Atreides standing, unleashing a wave of applause, praise and cheers from the audience. "Don't you think so, father?"

Your look was almost defiant, and yet composed, and your father took it as a challenge, but he would never be so foolish as to show any disagreement with you, for what the dragon princess desired, she had.

So, after sharing a short glance with your mother, he gave you a short nod of his head.

"I do."

And so it was settled.

Feyd-Rautha, for his own part, saw you and knew you were meant to be his.  He had heard of you, of course, his uncle used to insist that he must behave himself once your family arrived, for you were worthy of having the full respect of House Harkonnen, and that losing you as allies was not an option at all. So behave he did... or at least he tried to.

"I dreamed of you last night." 

Was the first thing he said to you, both found in one of the large, dark halls of his home, just a couple of hours after his victorious fight in the arena. The Baron and your father were in an important and pending meeting in which neither your presence nor Feyd's was required, because the whole focus of it was the two of you, and a possible marriage to ensure the alliance and heritage.

His eyes were barely distinguishable with the all the thick blackness surrounding him, his pupils dilated with desire, hands clasped behind his back, as inflexible as ever. He had put his all into making a good impression, his uncle had ordered him to, and Feyd was quite obedient when it came to the Baron's wishes. He was so loyal to that foul man that you thought it was something no better described than adorable. 

The thing was that, as powerful and menacing as he was, he was just another man, another pawn into this colossal game of power and thrones. And you felt rather pity for him.

"Na-baron." You greeted him somewhat pragmatically, turning fully towards him, golden eyes gleaming even amidst all the darkness through your gold mask. "It was a good dream, I hope."

"(Y/N) Pazuk, princess." He just took the satisfaction of deliciously savoring the name of your House, pronouncing it in that husky, deep voice of his. He also had the courage to move closer to you, rising from the wall and stepping cautiously, holding your gaze, looking down on you as if you were prey, a small helpless animal under his looming shadow. He then reflected, thinking about choosing the most suitable words... and the most appropriate ones "It was a very good dream."

You were in his territory, his planet, you knew it well and so did he, you were walking straight into the mouth of the hungry beast. Everything that was there belonged to him, he controlled it all and saw it all. 

And everything he was seeing now was you. And he was intrigued, captivated even. Because he usually encountered boring and vulgar people, people who were nowhere near his level, people who he liked to torture and make bleed to death. And the thing was, you happened to stand on his level, and even higher.

"Tell me more." You had the courage to order him in a soft tone of voice. He knew instantly that you were testing him, he was smart and knew how to read people well... but you, you were different, he could see it too, you were much more complex than other people. And he was delighted.

A hint of a phantom smile tugged at the corner of his lips just as he stood in front of you, posture rigid and dominant. "You showed me the way. The right way. The way of victory, the way of life."

You swallowed spit slowly and he noticed it, for his eyes descended to your throat for a few moments before rising again to your face, analyzing every expression that passed through your gaze, every gesture of your lips, every sign you allowed him to see.

Then he twisted his head slightly, face turning somewhat mischievous. "You think I'm scary, princess?"

Now it was his turn to test you.

He watched as your lips parted before responding, raising your voice with pure confidence, naturally, holding his dark gaze. "I think you're quite the opposite really, Feyd-Rautha."

He was silent for a few moments, long moments in which he simply gazed at you intently, with his full attention on you, on your body, almost as if he was looking at your pure soul.

"You are my destiny." He finally uttered, you could hear how his voice had wavered more for softness than harshness this time. "Show me the way, my princess."

You managed to feel the warmth of his body against yours. For someone so cold and distant, his body was hot and warm like fire.

"Are you going to ask for my hand?" You ask in a small voice, feeling suddenly intimidated by his closeness. There were very few who dared to stand so close to you, yet there he was, threatening your personal space. "Because here I am, na-Baron."

Before I could answer you anything, you spoke again, twisting your head slightly, barely narrowing your eyes. "You think I'm scary, my lord?"

He had never been so profoundly proud and thrilled by his title as he was at that moment, when you slowly modulated it with your tongue like a purr, your voice tastefully savoring it.

"I think you are beautiful." He immediately responded. "And I want you to be mine."

And so, fate had done it's work.

[elllisaaa]

DANGEROUS WOMAN - JAKE S.

KINKTOBER DAY 9 - PREMATURE EJACULATION + FEET

SUMMARY : jake is the best assistant you've ever had, and to top it all, he's really cute. you know he has a crush on you, everyone knows it, and that makes him even more adorable. so when you have to leave for an important conference with him and that the hotel room only has one bed, you take it upon yourself to give him what he wants.

-> pairing : assitant!jake x boss!reader

-> words count : 1.5k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!jake x dom!reader, foot fetish (obviously, don't like, don't read), premature ejaculation (obviously too), only one bed trope, jake is a simp and very horny, mutual pining, heels, footjob, teasing, dirty talk, use of 'miss' & 'good boy', praising, begging, mention of oral (f. receiving)

+ the way i'm depicting jake does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | enha masterlist | kinktober 2024

“- Are you… Are you sure that you’re okay with this ?”

You chuckled at Jake's anxious tone of voice as he followed you into the hotel room, carrying yours and his suitcase behind him. He looked over at the only bed of the room, a king sized bed, and he gulped down as he looked back up at you. 

“- It’s no big deal Jake, plus it’s only for two days. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can always try to find another hotel for us ?

- No ! N-No, it’s not that… I’m just… Anxious, that’s all.

- Don’t be. I know I’m your boss but I won’t eat you alive.”

Your seductive and charming smile made his insides swirl, and Jake knew that he was thoroughly fucked. Leaving one-on-one with you for this seminary was already a challenge for him, but having to share a room and moreover, a bed with you was going to be hell. Not because he hated the idea, but because it was going to be much more difficult for him to hide how much you turned him on, or how he often had wet dreams about you. 

Jake didn’t know what sparked his interest in the first place - was it the way you always carried yourself with so much confidence in contrast to him, or was it the way you always looked at him in the eyes, intensely. He didn’t know but the facts were there : he had the fattest crush on you, his boss, and he was unable to control his dick in your presence most of the time. 

“- Jake ? Can you come here ?”

He snapped out of his trance at the sound of your voice, quickly making his way over to the comfortable armchair in which you were sitting. You often complimented him for his reactivity, for his engagement and for how dedicated to the company - to you - he was. You really liked Jake, he was the first assistant that managed to keep up with you for more than two months and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t notice his crush on you. It was as obvious as the nose in the middle of your face, and since you had come to like the boy too, you thought that it wasn’t so bad if you had to share a room.

“- Could you help me with my heels ? I can’t unbuckle the leash.

- U-Uh… Yeah, of course…”

His voice was shaking as he answered, your smile slightly growing as Jake got down on his knees in front of you. You uncrossed your legs and pushed your right feet into his direction, looking down at him with such a deep gaze that Jake had to wipe his sweaty hands on his dress pants before reaching for your ankle. He grabbed it gently, and you tried to repress your shivers as you felt his fingers against your skin. 

While Jake was focused on finding out how to help you out of your heels, your other feet got closer to his thigh. And when he felt it brush against him, Jake inhaled sharply at the sensation, looking up at you with an open mouth, and you could see how many questions were going through his head at that moment. But you said nothing as you let your feet trace a path up from his knee to his thigh. Jake’s eyes were wide open as he stared at the way you were stroking his thigh, a shaky pant falling from his lips as his hands around your other ankle tightened their grip.

“- You like that Jake ?”

He looked up at you with desire burning in his big, brown eyes, unable to hide how excited he was. But far from deterring you, the way you could already see the outline of his cock through his pants made you salivate, letting your feet go even higher, so close to his crotch but not quite touching it. 

“- Answer me, or I’ll stop.”

Your tone was demanding, and even if Jake wasn’t entirely sure of where this was all going, he knew that he didn’t want you to stop. 

“- I-I like it, Miss.”

The title he always gave you despite you insisting on him calling you by your name made you quite satisfied for once, asserting your dominance - something that Jake seemed to like a lot.

“- Good boy.”

The name had him whining under his breath, his eyes glued to the way your feet went up higher, and higher, until you could press it down against his very obvious hard on. This time, Jake couldn’t repress the moan that fell from his lips, he couldn’t keep his eyes open either, throwing his head back as you started to rub him over his pants. The sight before your eyes was delicious, tempting, and you licked your lips as you watched Jake whine and whimper as you pressed your feet harder against his boner. 

“- Aren’t you so pretty like this ? You wanted this for so long, right ?”

Jake looked back up at you, his plump lips parted to freely let out every one of his airy moans, cheeks dusted pink and eyes blown out with lust. He had, indeed, never been as pretty as in that moment. 

“- Fuck, I… Y-Yes, wanted you since I laid my eyes on you, Miss.”

You huffed as you detached your feet from his crotch, hovering over it and not giving in to his whines, nor to the way he pathetically tried to grab your ankle and rub himself against your heel again. Maybe that someone else would have thought he was disgusting, but you were only thinking about how hot he was, how much fun you were going to have playing with him.

“- Stop calling me Miss, Jake. I already told you that, didn’t I ? So if you want me to continue, you need to call me by my name.”

You had leaned over, until your face was barely inches apart from his, your breath crashing against his parted lips. You smiled as you distinctly heard his breath hitch in his throat at the sudden closeness, his grip around your ankle stronger now. 

“- I… Okay, I’ll do whatever you want Y/N…

- Good fucking boy.”

Your name falling from his mouth in that deep voice but yet in a needy tone made you even wetter than you already were, and the way he reacted to your praise by moaning loudly against your lips pushed you to press your feet on his hard on again, earning another moan from him that you swallowed with your mouth as you kissed him. You had wanted to do that for a while too, often getting distracted by his soft looking lips when he was talking to you. And now that you could feel them, you realized they were even softer than you thought. 

Jake didn’t refrained his sounds anymore, keeping both of his hands wrapped around your ankle to keep your feet pressed against his boner, his hips thrusting up to get even more friction. He could feel himself dripping and staining his boxer as your tongue invaded his mouth, completely dominating him even through the kiss. Some saliva was trickling down from the corner of his mouth and along his chin, but he didn’t care, letting you devour and ruin him. When you finally detached yourself from his lips after what felt like an eternity, Jake chased after them, whining when you straightened back into the armchair, licking his saliva out of your lips. 

“- You’re a good kisser, Jake. Think you could use that mouth on me ?”

The simple thought of your pussy being anywhere near his mouth made Jake moan again, grinding faster against your feet that was now pressing down way harder onto his cock. But he loved it, he loved it all and he only wanted more and more. 

“- Y-Yes, please… Please Y/N, I want to make you feel good too, want to taste you…

- So eager and greedy… I like it.”

Your sultry tone pushed Jake to open his eyes and lock his gaze with yours, the intensity of it and the cocky smile on your face paired with the way you rubbed your feet just right had him trembling under your touch. Jake bit down on his lips as he closed his eyes, embarrassed at the way he came so quickly, in his pants like a teenager. Though, it felt too good, the rush of pleasure coursing through his veins rendering him unable to think, and he couldn’t stop himself from whining out your name as a visible darker spot formed on his pants. 

“- I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean t-

- Did it feel good ?”

Jake stayed speechless for a few seconds, his cheeks having grown hotter due to the embarrassment he was feeling, but he still looked up at you as he nodded. His fingers were subtly caressing the skin of your calf, and you tried to not show how much you loved it.

“- Y-Yeah, so good…”

You smiled at his admission, leaning down to kiss his lips one more time. He deserved it, that and so much more. Now that you had him under your control, you were not going to let him go. You were going to have so much fun.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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@bbgnyx @hann1bee @heevllog @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @foxinnie8 @lala-----------lala @urlocal-user

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[velarisnightsky444]

Insufferable

Angstober Day 3: Miscommunication with Lucien

CW: Tamlin, angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, implied SA(not super obvious, but if you know, you know)

AN: So sorry this is late! Today I'm catching up with my October fics! This takes place during ACOMAF, when Feyre would be in the Night Court. I tried to make YN tomboyish without making her a pick me, but sorry if she gives pick me vibes.

Summary: YN has lived in the Spring Court her entire life. When Lucien arrived, the two became fast friends. YN fell in love with him. But when she overhears a conversation between him and Tamlin, her heart is broken.

Word Count: 1.5k

October Masterlist

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You watched Lucien as he pulled back the string of his bow, his russet eye unwavering and focused on the target.

His long, fiery hair was pulled back, secured to keep it out of his face. His tan skin was golden under the setting sun.

And his face. His beautiful face. You had missed being able to see his whole face.

Once Tamlin got Feyre back from the Night Court, you would need to thank her for setting everyone free from Amarantha, simply because you could see Lucien's face again.

He let the string go, and you watched in anticipation, your eyes following the arrow until it buried itself right in the center of the target.

"I win," Lucien grinned, turning his smug attention towards you.

"It was close," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

"It was," he agreed with a nod. "But not close enough. I win."

You rolled your eyes, but had to bite your lip to keep back a smile. You watched his muscled form as he walked toward the target, collecting the arrows and placing them back in his quiver.

"It's getting dark, Y/N/N" he observed as he neared you again. "Your father will be waiting for you."

"Yes, I'm aware," you sighed.

Your father would be waiting at the manor, getting his horse ready to take the two of you back to the village. He would likely scold you for participating in such an unbecoming activity, but he knew very well what to expect from you, by now. A part of him would always secretly love you for it.

It wasn't that you refused to be a proper lady. You loved wearing dresses and spending your time with other females. You enjoyed cooking, didn't even mind taking over the house chores. And you had surprisingly proper etiquette for a poor village girl.

You could act like a lady with no complaints when the occasion called for it. But you needed a balance.

You needed adventure, and excitement. And you did not want to act like a proper lady all of the time.

The Fae in your village had always sneered about you when you were a child, gossiping when they saw you coming home covered in mud, climbing a tree, or playing with the other boys.

"It's because she doesn't have a mother," they would say. "A male cannot raise a lady on his own."

But your mother had died in childbirth. That wasn't your father's fault. Nor was it yours, as he always insisted.

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You woke bright and early the next morning to go back to the manor with your father. You rode on horseback together, every morning since you were a child.

Your father worked as one of Tamlin's sentries. Since you had no mother to watch you, he began taking you with him since he first got the job, when you were just a toddler.

Once you were old enough to watch yourself, you realized you loved going with him so much, you didn't want to stop.

It wasn't until two centuries ago that Lucien arrived. The second your eyes met, you had fallen head over heels for him. But he hadn't shown any interest in you, not like that. So you settled for being his friend.

He was the closest friend you'd ever had. He was only a decade older than you, and he had a dry sense of humor that you loved. He let you hunt with him, and challenged you to competitions of all sorts. He didn't care that you were a lady, and he didn't expect you to act like one.

When you arrived to the manor, you were informed that Tamlin and Lucien were taking care of business. You ignored the disappointment that settled in your gut.

Before Lucien, you had spent a lot of your days in the library of the manor. One of the Lesser Fae servants had even taught you to read there.

You settled in by the fireplace, reading an adventure novel you had loved when you were young. Every now and then, you reread it to remind yourself of the simple innocence of childhood.

When you had finished the short book, you sighed, stretching out your limbs, and getting to your feet.

You decided to venture out into the manor, just to see if Lucien had returned from the business he was attending to.

Your shoes clacked against the marble floors of the manor, until you found Lucien sitting alone in the dining room. He was not eating; he was just sitting there, staring at the table.

"Lu?" you asked, frowning as you approached him. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Y/N," he murmured, the words unconvincing. Your brows furrowed. He very rarely called you by your full name.

"You don't seem fine," you said, sitting in the chair next to him.

"Just leave me alone," he nearly whispered, not even glancing up to meet your eyes.

"Lu--" you began, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, snarling and shaking your hand off of him.

You flinched, eyes going wide. He had never raised his voice at you, nor had he ever spoken to you in such a disrespectful manner.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Just leave," he repeated, voice breaking.

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You couldn't sleep that night. You tossed and turned, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you had done wrong. But you could think of nothing.

You were hesitant to return to the manor the next day, but you did. You made to decision to seek out Tamlin, and ask if Lucien had mentioned anything to him.

You and Tamlin had never been close, but he'd known you since you were a toddler. He had a soft spot for you. He had made sure to buy more children's books for the library, and he always let you eat whatever you wanted from the kitchens. When you were young, he made sure to assign a servant to watch you everyday.

As you neared his study, the sound of voices inside carried out to you. You stepped closely warily, pressing your ear to the door.

"You'll have to put up with her for a bit longer," Tamlin was saying.

"I can't fucking stand her. Don't you think I've had to put up with her for long enough?" was Lucien's harsh reply.

You flinched, the words cutting deep. Did he mean you? You always thought he enjoyed your time together.

"She is our guest," Tamlin snarled. "We have offered her hospitality, and you will be civil to her."

"You have no idea just how insufferable she is!" Lucien snapped. "She never leaves me alone. She's always right there. I fucking hate it, Tamlin."

You had heard enough. You felt sick to your stomach. You pulled away from the door, tears lining your eyes as you quietly walked away.

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You went back to next day, only because you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of avoiding him. Not after everything he had said about you.

Your father had questioned you when your tears had begun to fall on the ride over. But you insisted that you were okay. He was still concerned, but he knew better than to push.

You spent the day in the library again, reading something new, this time. You wiped your tears and sniffled through the entire book.

"Y/N/N?" you heard. The first sound you'd heard in hours.

You glanced up, meeting Lucien's russet eye. Your shoulders slumped, your lip trembling pathetically at the mere sight of him.

"I wanted to apologize for the other day," he said calmly. "I was cold to you, and I shouldn't have raised my voice. I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing because you're sorry, or because Tamlin is making you?" you challenged, eyes welling with tears of hurt and fury.

"What?" he asked, his face twisting in an expression of genuine confusion.

"I heard you talking to him yesterday," you scoffed. "You said you didn't want to put up with me anymore, and that I was insufferable."

His brows furrowed for a moment, then clarity fell upon his face. He sighed, shaking his head and approaching the couch you were sitting on.

"I wasn't talking about you, Y/N/N," he assured you.

"Who else could you have possibly been talking about?" you demanded.

"Ianthe," he explained. "She doesn't leave me alone. And she's very pushy. I can't stand her."

You frowned, recalling the words that were said. Yes, it did make sense for them to be about Ianthe.

"Oh," you said weakly, cheeks heating.

"I would never say or think such things about you," he promised, placing a hand on your warm cheek. "You mean everything to me."

"Really?" you whispered, meeting his eye.

"Yes," he nodded. "The other day, I was upset because of Ianthe, not you. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," you said. "I'm sorry for the way Ianthe is treating you."

He shrugged, though something skin to pain flashed in his eyes. You reached out, cupping his face like he was doing to you.

He smiled softly, leaning in a planting a kiss on your lips. Surprise rendered you frozen at first, but then, you relaxed against his lips. And you kissed him back.

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Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @book-obsessed124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogerbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel @kodokunarisu-blog @dxjaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @littlepippilongstocking

Lucien Taglist: @roxan1930

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @anneas11 @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking @effervescentbutterfly

comment to be added to any of the taglists!

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A masked surprise

Summary: Letting your friend drag you to a costume halloween party even though all you wanted was to stay home turns out to be the best decision ever

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: T

Warnings: costume parties, halloween, alcohol, missing your husband, reader is Frankie's wife, costumes, surprises, some..... making out, a lot of fluff in this

A/N: This is my fic for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge! I chose Frankie and the prompt "masked stranger party" though the stranger turns out to be not that strange at all Tagging @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese I loved writing this and i had so many more ideas for the great prompts!

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Full Masterlist // Frankie Morales Masterlist

„Come ooooon, we gonna be late,“ you heard from downstairs. 

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. You still did not understand how you let yourself talk into going to this halloween costume party. 

You… weren’t a fan of parties.

Being the introvert of your friend group, you were happy just staying home and watching a movie. Or… binge a whole series on Netflix. 

You had a busy job, so you were glad when you were home and got to relax. Of course being home nowadays came also to be a little bittersweet. 

Frankie had been gone for almost nine months and you missed him every single day.

Thankfully this would be his last time on deployment and you were counting the days until he would be home just in time for Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving still was weeks away and you hadn’t been able to talk to him in the last three weeks with him being on a mission. 

So maybe the reason why you agreed to go to this party was to get you to think about anything else than your husband being away for one evening.

Taking one last look at the mirror to check your outfit, the stewardess costume being a little tighter than it had been the night you had met Frankie almost six years ago, you gave yourself a small smile. 

He had been dressed as a pilot, and you had been a stewardess. Your friends were teasing the two of you to this day that you ending up together had been written in the stars from the moment you met.

Just a couple more weeks until he would be home.

You could do this.

It was a friend of your friends friend that was hosting this party. 

You had gotten here almost an hour ago and were on your second drink. The music was blasting and you were talking to a woman in a very impressive Mandalorian costume when you felt like someone was watching you. 

Looking over your shoulder you couldn’t pinpoint If someone was actually watching you, with the amount of people in the room. Letting your gaze wander through the room your eyes lingered on a tall person wearing a ghostface mask leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, a beer in their hands. 

Your lips twitched into a small smile when you saw someone dressed in a full Luigi costume fist bump into their shoulder before you turned back to the Mandalorian in front of you.

„This might be super forward but… do you think we could go out for dinner sometime?“ The Mandalorian lady, Tess, asked you. You couldn’t hide the surprise at hearing this question, giving her a small smile.

„I’m sorry. I’m already taken. I feel very flattered though. Never had a Mandalorian hit on me,“ you smiled at her and she sighed with a wistful smile. 

„Should have known. Where is your….?“ 

„Husband. My husband. He’s currently on deployment. I am counting the days until he gets back,“ you said, taking a sip from your drink. 

„Oh that must be so hard,“ she said.

„Let’s just say I am glad when he’s back for good. The last six years were a challenge with him being away so often. But he’s… he’s the love of my life,“ you shrugged with a dreamy smile.

„Oh ugh are you talking about Frankie again?“ Your friend teased you while she put an arm around your waist. 

„Stop bullying me,“ you playfully slapped her arm, making her laugh. 

„Nah. Frankie is okay. I’m fully prepared to not see you for weeks once he’s back,“ she wiggled her eyebrows and you rolled your eyes. 

She wasn’t wrong though. The last time Frankie had been on leave you barely had left the house for the first two weeks.

„Anyway. Let’s stop moping about my husband and maybe…. Dance?“ You looked at your friend whose eyes lit up. 

„Yes please. The guy I just flirted with was gay. I was blinded by the firemen costume. I need to dance these awkward feelings away,“ she awkwardly laughed, before she pulled you to the dance floor. 

You felt like someone was watching you again. I mean there were a couple people watching you probably. You were trying your best impression of the Wednesday dance from the Netflix series, you and your friend laughing almost maniacally while doing it. 

„I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?“ Your friend yelled and you nodded. The song changed to a Prince song and you continued to dance, enjoying yourself. It took you a moment to realise there was someone behind you. Slowly turning around there they were. Mysterious ghostface mask, dancing with someone dressed as Mario and you wondered if Luigi, Mario and ghostface knew each other. You gave them a smile before you turned away, continuing to dance.

Once your friend got there to get you your drink, she said that she’ll go to the bathroom. Nodding you told her you’d wait outside for her, needing a bit of fresh air. 

This was how you found yourself sitting outside, the music still blasting. 

You had a drink and a hot dog.

And you were a little tipsy. 

Smiling to yourself you bit into your food when you heard the door open. Looking over your shoulder you saw ghostface mask stepping on the porch. 

„You know I never saw Scream?,“ you said before you turned away from them, continuing to eat. 

„I actually don’t like horror movies at all. I’m getting scared way to easily, my husband thinks it’s hilarious,“ you hummed. When the person didn’t say anything you turned around again, your eyes widening when the familiar brown eyes of your husband were staring back at you. He was smiling sheepishly at you, the ghostface mask still in one of his hands. 

The hotdog fell to the ground as you jumped up from were you were sitting. 

„Frankie?“ You whispered with wide eyes. 

„Hi baby,“ he grinned.

„Am I hallucinating?“ You asked and he chuckled, shaking his head. 

„I’m back baby. For good,“ he said and before you could stop yourself you were walking over to him, falling into his arms that wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You took a deep breath, just inhaling his scent that you missed so much.

„Have you been watching me?“ You asked, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. He leaned down, kissing your nose.

„Since you got here. Will and Ben are here too. They’re in the Mario and Luigi costumes,“ he grinned and you chuckled. 

„I missed you,“ you whispered and he finally leaned down to kiss you softly. You brushed one of your hands through his hair, deepening the kiss. He hummed against your lips, one of his hands on the back of your neck to get you even closer. 

„Woah,“ you heard behind you and you parted from Frankie’s lips, looking behind him to find your friend grinning at you. 

„You’re welcome,“ they winked. 

„You knew?“ You asked surprised. 

„Of course I knew. Now you can stop mopping about him coming home,“ they winked. 

„You really missed me, huh?“ Frankie teased and you hid against his chest.

„We had six days after we got married before you had to leave. Of course I missed you,“ you said and he kissed your forehead. 

„You wanna stay or you wanna get home?“ He asked, voice low. 

„Home. Definitely home,“ you said quickly and he winked.

„Uhm we are going home. Is that okay? I feel bad because we got here together and…“ your friend stopped you. 

„Please. I’ll get Mario or Luigi to take me home, don’t worry,“ they grinned and you laughed. 

„Okay,“ you reluctantly got out of Frankie’s arms to go over and hug them. 

„Thank you,“ you whispered and they just squeezed your tighter.

„Get out of here,“ they chuckled and you walked back to Frankie, taking his hand. 

You were waiting for an uber outside when you noticed him still holding the ghost face mask, about to throw it in the trash. 

„Uh…. You should keep that,“ you said quickly and he turned to you, narrowing his eyes. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him and his eyes darkened. 

He put the mask into the back of his jeans before he pulled you back into his arms. 

„Kinky,“ he whispered against your lips before he kissed you again. 

„You love it,“ you mumbled. 

„I really fucking do,“ he grinned and kissed you again.