#SHES EVERYTHING IN THIS TURTLENECK!!!

[lilacerull0]

[gothsuguru]

disrespectfully i’m thinking about suguru’s dilfy dad

[edains]

Ashley "shut your piehole" Williams Inspiration + s/o to the person on Discord who mentioned Ashley should get to punch Charles Saracino

Alliance Uniform Consistency

Children of Rannoch

Kaidan Alenko Overhaul

LE1 Diversification Project

Leather Jacket for Femshep

Primitives

Punch Charles Saracino

[stvnnie]

peak gender right here

commissions still open!

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains 18+ content.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends → lovers]

Summary Eddie holds good on his promise to take you out on a date, and as the night comes to a close, you realize you’re not ready to say goodbye [fluff, smut, 4.3k].

A/N This is the long-awaited continuation of come whatever may. You can read that first if you'd like, but enough context will be provided here. Spoiler alert: the sex is very soft, teasy, and desperate because they’re in l-o-v-e. Haven't written smut in nearly two years, but I evoked the muses of times past—and thus!...

PART 1

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summer is long gone, but when you open the door to Eddie holding flowers, the warmth that rises to your cheeks makes it feel nearer than ever. It’s a vibrant bouquet composed of white roses, red lilies, baby’s breath, and leafy foliage. The wrapper crinkles as he extends them to you with an easy smile and soft hello. Your eyes flick back up to his after admiring the delicate blooms. 

There’s a healthy flush to his cheeks, his curls neat and defined. The black leather jacket he’s wearing clings to his slender frame with a polished edge. Under the weight of your gaze, he huffs out a chuckle that reminds you you’re still on earth. 

“Gonna let me in, sweetheart?” Charm drips from his voice and shimmers within his chocolate eyes. 

Nodding, you shuffle backwards, allowing him to enter and push the door shut behind himself. As he steps further inside, you can feel his gaze sweeping over your outfit. An olive-green corduroy dress layered over a beige turtleneck that’s soft against your skin. His smile grows, glinting bright enough for anyone to believe he just won the Lotto when, really, it’s just the pretty sight of you holding the flowers he bought. 

“These are beautiful.” You raise the bouquet, but Eddie’s eyes remain on you. Seeking refuge from his gaze, you tuck your nose down to inhale the sweet fragrance of the petals. “They smell amazing too.” 

“That’s all you, sweetheart.” 

You get shy when his eyes meet yours. “You like my outfit and everything?” 

Eddie swallows back a degree of his earnestness so he doesn’t sound too far gone. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?” 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Robin descends the staircase with a bag slung over her shoulder like she’s prepared to leave, hair tied up in a messy bun. Given your parents were away in Indianapolis for the weekend, you’d asked her to come over and help you get ready so you wouldn’t be alone. 

Eddie’s eyes flick to her, clearing his throat. “Did you help her pick this out, Buckley?” 

“Obviously,” she smirks. “Nice hair.” 

“It is really nice,” you agree with a soft smile. Eddie lifts a passive shoulder, chest fluttering. 

“Rob, do you think you could…” she takes the bouquet without you having to ask. The two of you had shuffled through the attic and dug out a vase earlier that afternoon. 

Eddie had promised this date, along with flowers, a week ago when you slipped away from Steve’s party to be alone. That night, he’d kissed you in the heat of the moment but wanted to backtrack and do things right. You deserved that much. 

The time you’ve been looking forward to has finally come. 

With your hands now free, the only thing you can think to do is wrap your arms around Eddie. The world goes still as he hugs you back, nerves quelling beneath your skin. For a moment, you merely enjoy the warmth of the same arms you’ve been wrapped in countless times before. With your head tucked into his chest, enveloped by the faint scent of his cologne, you release all the worries that ride on the sweeping coattails of change. For a moment, he’s just Eddie, your best friend. 

When you pull away, he leans in, tilting his head with that familiar, boyish curiosity. “You alright?” he asks quietly, searching your gaze.

You nod, a smile breaking through. He takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze, “Just checkin’.” 

Robin soon walks back into the foyer. “I put the flowers in a vase for you,” she announces, taking her hair down and shaking it out. “Hate to admit it, but you two are actually cute. It’s disgusting.” 

“Hey,” Eddie lifts his hands, laughing. “Little victories.” 

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder with a content sigh. “Welp, I’m about to go pester Harrington at Family Video.” She turns to Eddie, playfully narrowing her eyes. “You better treat her right, ‘cause best believe I’ll be hearing all about this date.” 

When she slips out the door, Eddie smiles at you in silent assurance. 

●・○・●・○・●

The sun hasn’t quite begun to set, but orange and pink faintly blend on the horizon. A cool fall breeze flows in through the cracked windows as the radio plays softly. Eddie had asked his Uncle Wayne to borrow his pickup truck because it’d be more romantic than his bulky van. You can’t say whether he was right, only that you’re grateful to be riding shotgun with him—headed to an unknown destination, no less. 

You’d already guessed through a list of places that Eddie denied with amusement. Sighing, you look out the window to people bustling about, walking dogs and strolling out of shops. You’re coming out of the more commercial side of town, nearing Lover’s Lake and the state park.  

“I give up,” you sigh. 

Eddie chuckles, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, ignorant to his warming effect on you. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you a hint.” That makes you peer over at him in interest. “If I had to guess, I’d say not a lot of people have had the chance to try it out yet.” 

That’s a dead giveaway. Your mouth falls open in surprise. “That new place along the lake—Stillwater Grill?” The twitch of Eddie’s lips is telling. “No way!” The excitement in your voice makes his chest tighten.

Stillwater was supposed to be good, from what you’d heard. A slightly elevated dining experience minus the formalities and steep pricing of a restaurant like Enzo’s. Where classic American favorites embrace small-town charm, according to the paper. 

Upon your arrival, the parking lot houses a pretty decent number of cars. Lover’s Lake provides a serene backdrop that catches the evening light. Couples stand outside admiring the view. Eddie opens your door and helps you out of the truck like a proper gentleman. You happily tuck yourself into him as you walk inside. 

When you were younger, you often wondered what love would be like. Books and the movies always presented countless possibilities, but you always believed it’d be special for you. So different that nothing else would be able to compare—perhaps, selfishly. One thing for sure, you never could’ve dreamed up someone like Eddie. 

As he sits across from you under the dim glow of the lights, laughter and chatter filling the air, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to put all this into words. Belly full, you realize what you’ve enjoyed even more than the food and cozy, rustic atmosphere was is company. 

Eddie has an inexplicably magnetic way. There was a magic in getting him all to yourself. In relishing the lovely sparkle in his eyes that suggested he was always on the verge of laughter. The passion he exuded made it seem like the way he loved a given thing was biblical. He could talk the ear off a cornfield if he wanted but knew instinctively when to listen. Even your passing remarks seemed to bear some semblance of importance to him.  

Conversing with him had always been easy, but without other people vying for his attention, you were truly able to admire the boy before you. To embrace the deepening attraction. 

As you wait for the waiter to bring the tab, you don’t realize you’ve grown silent and begun blinking at him with the fondest eyes. 

●・○・●・○・●

The wooden stairs of your front porch creak under both your footsteps as you climb them, stopping in front of your front door as the night settles around you. Moths flutter around the lanterns framing the door, crickets chirp in the lawn. Eddie kicks at a dead leaf, combing through a sea of thoughts in search of the right words. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says. You wait for him to continue. His doe eyes search yours for the briefest moment, seeing right through you it seems. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna be hard for me to quit you.” 

Your mouth opens a couple times in a mix of giddiness and surprise. “Yeah,” you finally breathe. “Yeah, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” 

Smiling, he steps forward to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that you feel everywhere. It manages to outshine the first, more desperate, kiss you’d shared a week prior. This one is steady and sure, like a promise sealed with a prim bow. When he pulls away to look into your eyes, you shyly duck your head. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks, lifting your chin. 

He doesn’t want to go, instead wishing he could stall and stay right here with you. He’s parted ways with you hundreds of times before, but now he can’t seem to figure out how he ever did. That’s how he knows he’s in trouble. The best kind. 

“I’ll pick up,” you promise. 

He stands at your door until you see yourself inside. It’s quiet without him. Your eyes land on the flowers he got you, now in a vase in the living room thanks to Robin. Too quiet. The sound of your front door reopening stops Eddie in his tracks. He turns around with a slight furrow between his brows. 

“Everything okay?” he calls, mindful of his volume. 

You make a small motion for him to come back to you. He listens in a heartbeat. 

There’s a weighted look in his eyes beneath the playfulness, “Miss me already?” 

“No,” you lie. 

●・○・●・○・●

It’s a wonder how you manage to make it feel like there’s a pleasant fire kindling within him. What started out as yet another easy conversation, has turned into you straddling his lap on the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as the TV drones in the background.

Everything feels heightened now. The brush of your lips against his, your fingers gently scratching at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie’s lips part in a soft, shuddering breath when you roll your hips over him. 

“Hold on a second, sweetheart.” His eyebrows are pinched as he pulls back from the kiss, hands stilling you. 

You blink down at him all owl-like. “Did I do something?” you murmur, purposely shifting over him again.

He restrains from canting his hips upwards. There’s a softness to his gaze even though his cheeks are flushed hot. 

“If getting me worked up counts. You’re real good at that.” His shamelessness is dizzying. “Just don’t wanna get ahead of myself.” It’s a subtle invitation, a chance for you to call things off in case you aren’t on the same page. 

But you can feel warmth pooling low in your belly. “What else am I good at?” 

He knows you’re game then. For whatever this is, whatever it’s bound to become. 

“Trying to pretend I’m not driving you crazy too.” He chuckles when you duck to hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

There’s a gentleness to the way Eddie’s hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, meeting the delicate skin of your inner thigh. 

“Eddie,” you murmur, lifting from his neck as his fingers continue their trail upwards.

“Hmm?” He pauses, thumb stroking your skin in soft circles. 

“Can we go to my room?” A slight shiver runs through you as his fingers move to trace along the crease of your thigh.

“Your call, sweetheart.” 

Before he withdraws his hand, he snaps the waistband of your panties and grins when you straighten.  

●・○・●・○・●

The lamp on your nightstand casts everything in a dim, warm glow. Eddie shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your desk chair, eyes roving over the notebooks and pens strewn about. The sight of his tattooed arms makes you move to kiss him again, letting your lips wander to the corner of his mouth and his chin in a trail of warmth. He throbs in his jeans when you slip your fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and curl them into his stomach. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and steps back enough to pull the fabric over his head in one swift movement, muscles rippling as the dark ink on his torso is revealed. With newly disheveled hair, he kisses you backward onto the bed, crawling over top of you as you settle into the mattress with a pleased hum. 

Having the upper hand allows him to press hot kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as you huff out sighs and caress his milky skin with buzzing fingertips. Nothing about his movements is rushed, each press of his lips intentional enough to believe he'd had them planned for years.

Eddie didn’t know your body yet, not in the way he’d like to. But he was reading it in real-time. Cataloging every writhe and hitch of your breath so he knew where to return. The obsessive part of his brain often gets on his nerves, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful he wants to see every move and sound you can make. There’s an artistry to it, a musicality. 

An inkling of panic arises when he begins to suckle on the side of your neck as you offer it. Not because he’s being rough, but because it’s overwhelming enough to want to crawl out of your skin. A soft whimper rises up your throat as your hands find his flexed biceps, digging in. You’re unsure of whether to pull him closer or push him away. 

Eddie rises from your neck on his own accord, running a finger over the spot. “You like it when I kiss you here, huh?” There’s a slow, honeyed quality to his voice. 

When you offer a helpless nod, he leans back down again, and you shudder as his mouth laves over the same sensitive area a little ways beneath your ear. Exasperated, you blindly paw for the waistband of his jeans, fingers shaky as you fiddle with his belt buckle.

Feeling your struggle, Eddie moves to press a final kiss to your throat before pulling away from your neck. 

“Stupid thing,” you pant, pouting up at him for help. 

Chuckling, Eddie reaches down with one hand to undo it with ease. Then, watches with blown pupils as you hurry to undo the button and zipper. He slips off the bed as smoothly as he can to remove his pants, black boxers tented and straining. A spark of heat surges through you as you press your thighs together at the sight. 

No sooner is he crawling back to help you out of your clothes. The lacy underwear set you’re wearing beneath is a pretty shade of baby blue, and Eddie can’t help but palm himself. 

“Jesus,” he sounds awed and devastated at the same time. “You’re so gorgeous...” 

Before he’s even had time to process, you take off your bra, baring your chest for him to see. Your nipples pebble with the new exposure and all of two seconds pass before he’s surging forward, sending you tumbling back to the mattress in a breath of startled laughter he swallows down like a lifeline. 

You gasp into his mouth, back arching, as he cups one of your breasts, circling and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You’re barely kissing him back anymore, but he continues licking into your mouth as your lips part around shallow exhales. 

That’s when the phone begins to ring. Eddie sits back on his haunches despite your attempt to stop him. 

“Might be important.” His voice is rough. 

“They can leave a message.” 

He smirks, dragging a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

Lifting your leg, you run a careful foot over the swell of his boxers. He twitches at the contact. 

“You’re all I care about,” you murmur. “Need you, E.” There’s a desperate edge to your voice that draws him right back in.

“You’ve got me.” He runs a lone finger down the front of your panties. “Can I take these off?” You’re only half listening to his words, nodding to whatever. “Lift up for me.” The muscles of your thighs tremble as you do. 

Tossing your panties aside, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your belly button. Then another one just beneath it. A surprised sound rises up your throat when he gently spreads you open to kiss that swollen, sensitive part of you that’s pulsing with need.  

“Oh, gosh—” you stutter out, hands threading into his hair.

“Need me right here?” His voice is laced with a smile, and you can’t help a breathy laugh. Prideful warmth ignites in his chest. “Or do you need me somewhere else?” He trails playful, ticklish nips along your inner thighs, making you squirm. 

“Eddie, please…” 

He’s gracious enough to begin rubbing your clit in precise, measured circles, intently studying the pretty scrunch of your face.

“Firmer,” you instruct breathily, “—just like that, just like that.” Your legs spread wider instinctively, arching when he collects your slick with a slow, heavy finger. 

You’re already so on edge from his previous attention that it only takes a few moments before you ascend into bliss, muscles growing taut as your mouth falls agape. The strong, rhythmic pulses serve as your only touchpoint to reality along with Eddie’s tender caress at your slick, fluttering entrance. One he didn’t even have the chance to breach. 

“Look at you…” he says, voice thick. “Made it easy for me.” He laughs a little, more turned on than anything. 

“It’s not funny,” you halfheartedly assert, cheeks prickling. 

“No,” Eddie agrees. “Just super-duper hot.” 

As he raises up, you realize his other hand is tucked into his boxers, lazily stroking himself. A second wave of desire builds within you, overlapping the remnants of the first and any sense of embarrassment that had begun to kindle. It’s spurred by the deep flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes are soaking you in like he’s just witnessed the most beautiful unraveling. 

Under your hazy, watchful gaze, he scrambles off the bed. Without warning, he shoves his boxers down, kicking them from around his ankles. His arousal impressively springs up towards his stomach. You bite your lip at the rosy, leaking tip, the gorgeous vein snaking prominently along the underside. 

Eddie peeks over at you with a dazed quirk of his lips before retrieving his wallet from his jacket. He pulls out a square foil packet and promptly rips it open with his teeth. 

Upon crawling back into the bed, he isn’t expecting you to take his cock in a loose hold, stroking upwards from the curly hair at the base to circle your thumb around the tip. There’s a pleasant tug low in his gut as he kicks up in your palm. 

“Sweetheart…” His voice is soft, nearly a plea. You let your hand glide back down, this time venturing lower to cradle the soft weight hanging beneath. He nearly buckles forward. “What're you doing to me?” he rasps. 

“Nothing,” you murmur innocently, wetting your hand and giving him a few more easy strokes, enjoying the warm, veiny feel of him before withdrawing your touch. 

He curses under his breath as he rolls the condom down, his gaze never leaving you as you reposition yourself to take him. 

“Eager beaver,” you lilt as he crowds over you. 

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I am.” 

He lines up at your entrance, tip catching as he collects your slick with a wavering breath.  

You open your legs even wider. “Want you,” you murmur, breathy and sweet. 

The expression on his face is like something from a painting, raw and rapturous as he eases into your encompassing warmth. He takes it slow, giving you time to relax around him as you breathe through the dull ache of welcoming him in. A low, guttural sound escapes him once he’s buried all the way. 

Your chests brush. Tears prick in your eyes at the closeness, the feeling of being filled so completely. 

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, lips clumsy against your chin. “Like I made you up in my head.” 

He begins moving, slowly drawing back only to push back in. A steady rhythm finds him as your mouth falls open, legs hooking around his thighs. The muscles of his back ripple with his effort, and you chart every tense line with your fingertips. 

With a low groan, he makes a minor adjustment to better reach that spongy spot within you. You arch into him with a whimper, breath catching in your throat. 

“There she is,” he whispers, reaching between your bodies to rub firm, steady circles against your clit. 

“Oh, god…” It sounds like you’re in pain even though you’re the furthest thing from it. When you close your eyes, tears stream down your face in twin streaks, surprising both of you. Eddie tenderly wipes them away, gaze soft. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “It’s just me, angel.”

Except, Eddie isn't just anything. You’ve never felt so close to someone, so in tune, and somehow, it’s Eddie—sweet, goofy, wild-haired Eddie—who knew exactly what you needed. He picks up the pace as you arch and writhe beneath him, body yielding without question.

“You feel so good,” you whimper, clenching around him. 

His groan reverberates against your neck as his hips jerk sloppily, “Can’t say stuff like that…” Those words only make you tighten around him again.

The dazed way he mouths at your shoulder lets you know he’s clinging onto composure. You’re too warm, too everything—snug, and soft, and beautiful. He’s not ready for this feeling to end. This heady, binding haze of pleasure.  

“Eddie,” you breathe softly. “Wanna ride you…” 

Your plea nearly finishes him off. “Yeah?” he croaks.

You nod, whimpering. He barely withstands the feeling of slipping from within you. Shifting onto his back allows him a moment of reprieve, but he nearly loses himself when you straddle him, sinking back down with a circle of your hips. 

You brace your hands on his ribcage, steadily rocking on top of him as your head tips back. Sweat glistens in the divot of his sternum as he attempts to move in time with you. When you speed up, he closes his eyes to calm himself down. 

“Hey…where’d you go?” You croon, grazing your nails from his chest to his quivering stomach, relishing the feeling of his warm, dewy skin beneath your fingertips.

The wrecked way he forces his eyes back open almost makes you fall apart. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as a greater sense of urgency awakens between you. It’s in the way you speed up, both eager, desperate, chasing. He memorizes the way your body moves over top of his, the bouncy sway of your chest. 

“You look so pretty taking me like this,” he shudders. “My pretty girl.” 

“Eddie…” you coo, high and breathy. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he chokes out. “Wanna feel you come around me so bad.” He’s babbling now, “Shit, I’m not gonna last. I can’t take it anymore, angel...I can’t—” 

The earnest crack of his voice sends you tumbling over the edge, vision spotting. Pleasure radiates throughout every fiber of your being as your walls contract around him. He stills your hips with a firm hold, bucking upwards and coming undone in surging waves. You slide your hands over his abdomen to feel him flex with each strong jolt that wracks him. 

As your body begins to relax, you blink down at him, lips parted as you catch your breath. Eddie throws an arm over his face as he sucks in air, neck and chest flushed pink. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. 

Both of you shudder as you ease off him. The pleasant ache of loss pulses between your legs as you partially lay down on top of him, hooking a leg over his waist. He traces along your thigh in light, soothing passes. You can feel his chest rising and falling. 

“You okay?” he eventually murmurs.

You nod, kissing his shoulder. “You?”

“I think so,” he chuckles weakly. 

●・○・●・○・●

The afterglow brings a quiet stillness to the air. Clean and beneath the sheets, you study Eddie’s long lashes, his nose, his plush lips. He eventually cracks a self-conscious smile.  

“What?” he questions. You shake your head because you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look like he believes you. “C’mon...” 

So, you think of something, a small truth you’re willing to give him, “I just really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

He hums, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “What was your favorite part?” 

“Probably the food at Stillwater,” you say, though your fingertips are tracing along his jaw, then down his neck, trailing to his waistline to lightly brush between his hip bones as he squirms. “Best I’ve ever had,” you lilt. 

Eddie breaks into a flustered laugh, leaning over to sleepily kiss the coy smile from your lips. 

“But really, though,” you say afterward. “Thanks for tonight. Never met a guy quite like you.” 

Eddie realizes then that he’d better get a head start on counting his lucky stars. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

NEXT PART | PART ONE

MORE

[21280]

my first sauna experience, told with katsuki bakugo. warnings for nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns used tho! reader wears a bikini, semi public? (it's a sauna), bit of nipple play, kats likes boobs n booty, hickeys, uses of "babe" and "bitch", fingering, mentions of the pill.

katsuki bakugo despises saunas. he sweats like crazy during his day to day life, so him being trapped in a room that makes him sweat balls isn't ideal. unless, he's trapped inside with you.

what started out as a pool day to cool off led to to borderline suffocation, the vapor and eucalyptus leaves making your body tense up even more as you straddle the blond's lap. his lips clash against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, as his hands roam over your thighs.

katsuki bakugo is intoxicating. once you kiss him, it suddenly becomes impossible to stop. the way his tongue slips past your lips to wrestle yours so easily, how he bites your bottom lip not too hard for it to bleed, but hard enough to leave a mark, how he always manages to find that sweet spot on your neck as he nibbles his way to your breasts—

katsuki bakugo is a fucking genius. sometimes.

there's a limit to his greatness. because you're katsuki's first everything, and he's fucking clueless. as his hand carefully (and cluelessly) fondles your breast beneath your bikini, you giggle. looking at him, you smile. "you can leave a mark on me, y'know? i don't bite."

he scoffs, "you think i wanna hear shit from my mom during lunch when she sees you?"

"you can leave it somewhere she doesn't see, kats. i'll give you creative liberty, picasso."

katsuki retrives his hand as he starts to think. his looks your body up and down, looking for a spot. neck is a no-go, you never wear turtlenecks. thighs and stomach are off limits too, because half your closet is filled with cropped tshirts and shorts. you knew he had figured something out when his fingers gently pushed aside your bikini, driving his mouth to your breast. he suckles on a spot right above your nipple, as his fingers pinch to his liking.

your body's quick to react, back arching slightly as your hand is placed on katsuki's chest. "careful" you hiss, and he pays no mind. unconsciously, you buck your hips towards him, earning a groan in return. you let your hands roam through his hair, when he pulls away, a smirk is plastered on his face. "kinda looks like a heart. i did a damn good job."

his lips connect with yours once again, and his hands lower towards your ass. it's not unusual for katsuki to do so, but you notice their trajectory is a bit different this time. his fingers brush over the hem of your panties as you shudder, holding back a moan.

"let me see it" he demands, "just once."

and you nod, looking up at the ceiling from pure embarrassment. because it hasn't been too long since you and katsuki have been intimate. it drives you crazy how he's not shameful at all.

he pushes your panties to the side, groaning at the sight. his fingers ghost over your clit, two of them slowly sinking inside you. the sight of you taking his fingers is enough for katsuki to feel his cock twitch with excitement in his swim trunks. and as they begin to thrust, you lean closer to him, mewling his name right in his ear. it’s exhilarating, the thought that anyone could burst through the door is enough for katsuki to speed things up, just the way he likes it.

you curse your boyfriend’s coarse fingers, the sounds that escaped your lips were so raw, so lewd—you thought the security guard would bust you down at any second. and as you gripped desperately on katsuki's shoulders, he hums. it’s mostly during these moments when you see a side to katsuki bakugo the world has never seen.

“fuck—i need your pretty pussy. right now—please—just take me raw.”

katsuki bakugo begs.

your eyes widen at his statement, “katsuki, you do realize i’m not on the pill, right?”

he abruptly retrieves his fingers. “i’ll pull out, i swear—just fucking do it.”

you giggle at your boyfriend’s neediness, “you do realize if something goes wrong, we’ll have little me’s running around in a few months, right? it’s a no for now, kats. we’re still young.”

katsuki sighs, his hands guiding your hips as he aligned your entrance with his clothed cock. “then fucking use me. got that?”

you waste no time rocking your hips, slowly grinding against his bulge. with his hands still on you, katsuki throws his head back as he bucks his hips forward, helping you quicken the pace. “d’you know how good you feel? ‘s like you’re riding me, babe.”

you know katsuki is long gone from pleasure when he pulls out the names. when he’s a moaning mess, hungrily pulling you towards him, you know you have him right where you want him. a few slaps, rough kisses, and hair pulling, and katsuki is at his limit.

“fuck—bitch—i’m done” is what he manages to say before he comes undone, his forehead bumping against yours as he mutters a small ‘i love you.’

as you catch your breath, you plant a quick peck on your boyfriend’s cheek. “you ready for lunch with your parents, kats?”

“you shitting me?” he asks, bewildered. “you’re lucky i’m changing my trunks, cause i got nut all over.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

lightning strike | h. iwaizumi

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader, recently established relationship, mutual pining, pwp, dry humping + making out, nipple play, implied raw sex, super love-dovey, deliberate name change from iwaizumi to hajime 18+

✮ wc ; 4k (???????)

✮ a/n ; something deeply frightening happened to me in writing this but whatever. made it with ten minutes to spare happy bday mr iwaizumi

pls be nice if characterization is everywhere its been a while

He’s nervous.  

So nervous. 

You laugh at him over a can of beer, even harder when he visibly flinches at the sound. The room is too quiet since all of your company has left for the evening. Iwaizumi is tipsy but not drunk - though you think if he has another can he’ll get there just fine.  

“Your face is gonna get stuck if you keep frowning.”  

He shoots you a glare that makes your lips quirk up. “Shut up. You sound like my Ma.”  

“How is she by the way? Still good?”  

Iwaizumi snorts and takes a long sip of his beer. He tilts his head back against the couch, arm stretched along the seats. His muscles pull taut underneath the skintight material of his turtleneck. You find yourself sitting on your hands to calm down, but you’re too unfocused for it too work.  

“She’s good. She likes the countryside. Been growing squash and tomatoes and everything. Gonna try and stay with her a bit during off-season,” His voice is wistful and affectionate. An only son, filial and polite - you smile at him lovingly. “You should come visit with me.”  

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Guess it’s the same since we’ve already met but since we’re going steady I though you might be too nervous.”  

The realization settles in too late. Just when you thought he’d swallow the nerves down, they make an appearance once again. He sits up straight, clearing his throat, diverting his gaze to the coffee table separating you both. A blush spreads up, all through his body. His ears turn especially turn some shade of cherry red. Dusts all along his nose. He tsks at you, tongue clicking with a familiar petulance. You bite back a laugh.  

“Going steady? Seriously?”  

“Well,” Your face twists in mischief as you look up at him, your eyes locking briefly. “You’d get all hissy if I called us lovers.”  

His eyes go wide - in equal parts shock and mild disgust. You can’t hold the laugh back that time time no matter how hard you try. It bubbles up out of you, euphoric and hysterical. Your laughter is too loud to savor his displeasure, so caught up in it that it takes you a few minutes to calm down again,  

“I hate you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. A grin splits your face. 

“No, you don’t.”  

He frowns and his blush darkens just a touch  

The room goes quiet save for the sound of your heartbeat. You try and collect yourself. The house feels too quiet, all prior company absen. Not that Mattsun and Maki dragged out Oikawa to be considerate of your newfound love or anything. You’re sure you’ve already gotten a long text detailing your extortion related to the favor. Still, you’re glad to be alone with him.  

It’s easy to split your time between all of them separately when you’re all in the same place - but complicated to be all together. And alone time with Iwaizumi has always been hard to come by.  

You’ve been pining for him since highschool - the frequency you wish to see him tuned tuned by the passing years of your relationship and feelings. You’ve gone through the whole spectrum of desires. From wanting to see him everyday constantly, to hoping you’d never have to see him again. It took you well over a decade to make any progress, and the entire process (while surely heartfelt) has been unmistakably clumsy and so, so long.  

Spending alone time with Iwaizumi has thus always been complicated except for this one time. You got together, officially, just last week. The day he came home, where you incidentally found yourselves alone together. Something that’d been rare years prior due to said pining and trying to get over him. You don’t even really know how it happened. It felt like the most significant moment in your life thus far and incomparably anticlimatic at once. He was just sending you home since you’d got completely shitfaced, and before you left you grabbed him by the collar and announced it. Just like that.  

(You threw up half-way through the car ride back. Your Uber was nice enough to pull over so you didn’t do it in his car.) 

You went home after and didn’t speak for days. It took a few more days for either of you to work up the courage to sort things out forreal, but you made it work with the help of even more alcohol.  

Things get busy though, when Oikawa returns home and Hajime is off-season. It’s rare things line up, and when they do - it’s only natural you spend all your time together. You did today too, celebrating Iwaizumi’s birthday among the four of you with take-out and Godzilla movies on your nice flatscreen.  

But you haven’t been alone with each other since your chat establishing your relationship as not a pipe-dream, which was notably through text.  

He’s nervous, so incredibly nervous but so are you. Just a little.  

You look up after being lost in thought - to see Iwaizumi stare at you. The air shifts slow and steady, thick tension stirring in your gut. You bite the inside of your cheek, rubbing your feet together as you fold over yourself, chin resting on your knee. 

You wonder if you should be the one to break the distance. Iwaizumi beats you to the punch this time. You suppose you’re even.  

“Come ‘ere.”  

He pushes the coffee table farther away from him with ease, careful not to knock anything over. Your tipsy self swoons over his competence, but you’re sure you’d do the same sober.  

The look he gives you as you crawl over to him makes you feel bashful. You go over until you’re sitting side by side - stretching your legs out. Your thighs barely touches. Iwaizumi jolts, swiping a hand over his face in exasperation.  

“Sorry,”  

You shake your head. “It’s okay.” Because it is, then just to make sure. “Are we okay?”  

“More than okay,” He admits, a breath of relief following the words. “It was a good birthday, by the way. Thank you.”  

“They’ll get upset that you only thanked me,”  

He bristles immediately making you giggle. “I’ll thank those knuckleheads later.” 

You smile at him, wide and bright. He looks at you before quickly looking away, laughing a little humorlessly to himself. You wonder what he’s thinking about but decide against asking, comfortable letting him go at whatever speed.  

“Can I uh—“ He clears his throat. “Wanna kiss you. Just uhh… shit.”  

You’d love to tease him, but you feel like your heart might explode out of your body so there’s not really much room. Nodding, you sit up on your knees and turn a little to face him. His features soften with remarkable fondness. You flush at the sudden attention. He sits up straighter, turning his head to face you. His forehead knocks against yours softly, noses brushes. His eyes are so sharp. You have to close your own when you feel him leaning in to kiss you.  

Iwaizumi is warm. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be. His hands feel big as one snakes up to cup your neck. He gives you one deep kiss, followed by two pecks before pulling away to make you chase him. He rewards you by kissing you agai. The sudden pressure makes your head spin.  

You pull away dazed. “You’re… super good at kissing.”  

“Yeah?”  

You press your thighs together at his reply. So sexy it’s unfair. “Uh-huh.”  

He gives you a weighted hum. 

His reaction spurs you on then. You pull away from him momentarily. Iwaizumi stares at you in reply, worry making his brow furrow. Before he can get the words out, you seat yourself on his lap. He’s taken aback as he realizes your intent, your arms around his neck. It’s not even really the alcohol, as much as it’s everything else. Cramped in your living room together, pressed up against your couch. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and shiver in his arms smelling his cologne. Spicy with a hint of pine. He hesitates, hands settling so carefully on your hips.  

He lets you stay like that undisturbed until you’re ready to pull away. Like he senses you needed that. He’s always been so good at knowing what exactly you need. Suddenly restless you decide you need to look at him again - make sure he’s real. That this is real.  

“Hey,” He mutters. His pitch is low, sends your heart hammering.  

You giggle, fluttering nervously. “Hi,” And then, “You like me,”  

“Pfft,” His voice is so tender, so soft, so comforting. “More than that.”  

Suddenly overwhelmed by your own giddiness, you squeak. You want to bury yourself in his shoulder again, but he’s quick to hold your wrist and stop you. He pins you under his gaze. It’s so intense you can’t help but feel like a deer caught in headlights. Your head is empty and all he’s doing is looking at you.  

But maybe that’s the whole problem. He’s looking at you, and you’ve wanted that for more than a decade. Now having it is too much, too suddenly - and you’re almost afraid of having it. It’s just a gaze, but it’s yours. He’s telling he’s yours in a way that’s just like him.  

“You…” He starts on something before letting you go. “For a long time,”  

He doesn’t need to explain. You already know.  

“Me too,” 

He calms down when you get it..  

“Really?” He follows up. He doesn’t look at you as he goes on. “How long?”  

You think on it.  

“Since we were fifteen?”  

“Same as me, then.” He’s clumsy with the follow-up. “That’s…”  

“Dumb? Ridiculous? Too long?” You say, filling in the words for him. “I know.”  

The extent of your own longing comes to you in waves. Love, like the sea trapped behind ice - so easily shattered. You’re drowning, your lungs aching trying to get adjusted to what is finally yours. The shock of it comes and goes, but you’re surrounded by it all the same. Iwaizumi stares at you and you stare back and nothing in the world exists except this desire you’ve kept to yourself for years.  

His name comes out like a whimper on your lips. “Iwaizumi,”  

“Hajime,” He corrects, so tender. So sweet to you. “Please,”  

“Hajime,” You test the name out on your tongue. It’s sweet.  

He doesn’t say anything after that.  

Your breath hitches as Hajime crowds into your space again. His hands are firm on your hips as he kisses you again. It’s different from before, lingers longer - his tongue pressing along the seam of your lips until you open them and allow him in deeper.The taste of alcohol is clearer on your tongue, bitter remnants of malt making you drool at the corners of your mouth. You kiss hungrily, your hands carding through the short, black hair with a longing sigh. Hajime groans a little when you tug at the root and the only thing you can think to do is try to sink into him further. .  

The hear raises without warning. Your skin under your clothes feels like it’s on fire. It feels different too suddenly for you to adjust and keep completely calm. Lust that borders cosmic engraves into your bones. Crumbling under the weight of it, you kiss Hajime like your life would end without it. In the moment, it feels like it would. Exchanged breaths are the only source of air for that space and time. You feel frantic, hazy - and Hajime who you know to be so steady, proves to be in the same place as you. 

His hands are so big. You can feel how tight he grabs you, his thumb pressing into your hipbones - itching to go lower. You don’t want to pull away but you want more. In the second you take a breath you tell him as much. Your own delirium might bring you shame if you were in any place to really feel it. “You can touch me. However you want.”  

“Fuck. Don’t say that.”  

“Hajime, please.”  

You mutter something but you don’t catch what it really. Your head is swimming with unrepentant ardor and your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. Hajime kisses you again and takes the lead. The pleasure echoes in how you sigh, your hips rutting against his lap as his hands squeeze your ass. His hands are so fucking big - strong and kind and hold you with no uncertainty. The groping goes straight to your cunt, stomach starting to twist with familiar arousal. You push your hips against him again.  

You’re hardly thinking about it. Hardly thinking at all - no coherency or sense thrumming through your brain except his name. Hajime, Hajime, Hajime. An incantation of destiny. A love song.  

You feel his fingers inch up to go underneath your shirt - all of a sudden feeling burdened by all the layers between you. You can’t calm down. 

He pulls away from you first in that instance. Before you can ask, he nudges himself close to your neck, kissing along your jaw. You feel the fabric of your shirt tug. “Can I take this off?”  

You nod rapidly, then mimic him wanting him to do the same. His laugh is raspy in the follow through - your shirt and bra discarded somewhere on the floor. He stops suddenly, flicking his gaze up to you like he’s asking permission again. You just nod, not knowing how else to convey your desires.  

Your nipples pebble in response to the arousal and cool air. Hajime’s tongue flicks from his lips.  

His gaze makes you feel ticklish. He runs his palms over your tits with an appreciative noise. His eyes linger long enough to make your skin go hot all over, your spine prickling with heat.  

“Staring,”  

He looks up at your face, amused by your pout then kisses you as he feels you up, calloused palms brushing against your nipples, tits fitting perfectly in his hands. He smiles a little against your mouth. “Guess I am.”  

“Take yours off,” You plea. 

He obliges you, peeling the tight shirt away from his body and leaving his bare torso in full view. The proximity makes your lungs tighten like they can’t get enough air - heat radiating from his skin. His physique is toned, layers of muscle soft and comfortable He’s structured and gorgeous like a statue. You’re greeted by his broad chest and the corded muscles of his biceps. All sinew and strength, down his core. Strong and stable and big everywhere you could possibly look. You feel awestruck, mouth-watering at the sight - clit throbbing. Objectively attractive, you’re sure anyone in your place would feel the same. But this is your Hajime and the body he’s worked so hard on, full grown and yours. The trail of hairs down his stomach, getting coarse. The v-line of his waist makes you clench. 

 Too much.  

 The words tumble out of you before you can stop them, like water spilling from a broken dam. “I want you to fuck me so bad,”  

His brows raise. You can feel something twitch hard against your clothed pussy. At full mast underneath the confines of his pants. \Your eyes go wet when you realize what it is. Mind sticky, you draw your lips into a pout and silent protest. Despite your desperation, you almost want to say it again, pleasure thrumming through your body at his reaction. It feels like electricity sparking up from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head. 

 Hajime presses his face to your neck all over again - hot, open mouth kisses trailing from jaw to chest. You gasp when his mouth closes around your tits, tongue laving over the tender skin and making your back arch.  

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” He mirrors. His voice is scratchy and his grip is tight. “Been wanting to fuck you so bad for so long, you have no idea.”  

There’s something true and well pathetic about the yearning that wells up inside of your gut and settles itself in your sternum. It spreads and grows and tangles in your ribs, curls around the vessels of your heartbeat. The kind of yearning that makes your whole being tremble, makes you want to preen and sing like a canary. It’d be good if time stood still so he could fuck you infintely - never being able to go where you can’t reach.  

You rock against him and Hajime holds you steady like always. His voice drops down to murmur - speaking with alarming clarity. You’re teary from the sound of his voice.  

“Let’s cum together,” He offers as reprieve, so sweet despite the harsh grip on your hips as he draws your weight down closer to him. You’re suddenly conscious of your choice in clothes - how thin the fabric of your shorts really as as the rough outline of his cock presses against the seam. You’re glad you didn’t wear underwear “And then I’ll make you cum again. I’ll take care of you,”  

“You always take care of me,” You say with no awareness of your surroundings. He laughs breathlessly. ‘ 

“Yeah..since it’s you, it’s easy.”  

You go wide-eyed but don’t get a minute to dissect. Not bothering to unbutton his jeans, you gape at the hard outline of his cock confined in black boxers. his  He picks you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as your spine touches the carpet of your living room floor. You make a surprised noise as you’re let down gently. He doesn’t unfurl you from him. You spark back to life as his lips meet yours again chastely. The complaint you had dies on your lips when he trails down your jaw again. His voice is next to your ear, sinfully rough - warm breath tickling your skin. His teeth tug on your ear lobe and you shiver.  

“Tell me if it’s too much,”  

You don’t get a chance to ask about it.  

The sudden motion of his hard cock rutting and humping against your sticky, wet cunt punches the air of out of your lungs.  

There’s only a single layer of wet fabric keeping him from fucking you.  The very idea makes your pussy throb unhelpfully. You understand all of a sudden that this was what he meant about wanting to make you cum. But it’s Hajime, your Hajime - so making you do any work wouldn’t cut it. Humping you in missionary of all things like he’s already inside you.  

The thought overwhelms and you gasp.  

You don’t recognize the sound of your own voice, so high and pitchy with need. Pure pornography. But there’s no camera for you perform for, nothing but Hajime above with with a heavy gaze. Your spine arches at the sensation once it hits its stride, the angle of friction just right. The indirect touches makes your core throb. Your clit has been achingly sensitive for so long, and the release of tension in a single thrust is enough to make you shudder each time. It feels like you’ve been holding the feeling in your entire life. You wheeze his name out brokenly as he does it again - a sharp thrust, precise enough to be perfect like he already knows you that well.  

Your lower body feels week as the arousal starts to climb to a steady chorus. You pant for him like a bitch in heat.  

He’s not inside you but the smack of his hips against yours makes you feel like you’re getting fucked anyways. You imagine how it’ll feel when he really fucks you and can’t see straight after the fact. Each little movement spreads precum along your shorts, already wet with your own arousal. The friction of the damp fabric makes you cry out from pleasure,  animalistic with need. Your nails dig into his biceps as he kisses you all over, wherever he can possible reach. Along your neck, shoulders, collarbones chest. Any place he has accsess.  

You want him so fucking deep it’s frustrating, want him up to your throat - but the lack of direct touch makes you want him more desperately. And it makes it feel so, so good. The kind of pleasure that’s dull and throbbing but makes something in your spine go alight, like shoving your thumb into a bruise. You want Hajime to press himself into you hard enough to make the healed dull yellows vibrant purple and red all over again.  

You gasp helplessly each time he rocks his hips into you. He’s whispering such filth against your ear, into your mouth each time you kiss and you can’t reply with anything but his name. He praises you each time anyway, goads you into saying it again. Again and again and again until you can’t find your own voice.  

“Say it again,” Hoarse, punctuated by another thrust that nearly drives you over the edge and makes your eyes go wide. “Say my name again, baby”  

“Hajime.” So you say it- can’t think of any substitute since you’re not sure god would suffice. Locked between you in the warm sticky air is just Hajime, all yours.  

Every muscle in your body starts to lock up as you hit the final stride to your orgasm. You want to cum so badly for him and only him. All over his cock in any way he’ll light you. The thought pushes you over the edge. Over and over and over until you hang over the precipice of your own orgasm. When it hits, it hits like a crash of thunder on open plain. Like suddenly everything in you that’s every been grounded in Earth is scattered with sparks, skating and careening across your body. You feel him in the fiber of your being. Your toes curl at the sudden release, not able to voice a warning that isn’t just a soft gargle in the back of your throat. He doesn’t stop or stutter in his motion, instead gripping your hips tight as he can while lets you run through your high - nothing but praise and affection.  

You can feel him more than you can see him cum along with you. Sticky, hot seed flowing in spurts as his dick twitches for you - his ragged breathing covering your skin in goosebumps. You moan at the warm sensation drenching your poor, covered pussy and find the load to be wasted though you feel contented anyway. 

 You’re barely sane enough to catch your breath, but he eventually lets you down - though you can’t keep from hugging him. You pull back to look at each other.  

You brush the sweat matted hair away from his forehead with a lovesick sigh and giggle. He looks down at you with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours with.  

“Can’t believe I came in my pants like a teenager,” He says through a laugh.  

“It’s like making up for lost time,” You say warmly, all floaty. “Plus, the way you were fucking me but not fucking me…definitely a man. It was really hot, you know?”  

He groans. “I’ll get riled up again.”  

You smile at him. “Let’s fuck lots for your birthday, Hajime.”  

“Is that the present you mentioned earlier?”  

You pretend to think on it. “Mm..no. Not just the sex, anyway.” 

He looks at you confused as you lean in closer to him. “It’s safe so there’s no condoms anywhere in this apartment, unless you wanna go stop to get some.”  

He gives you a blown out look of lust with a soft breath, voice bordering a growl. “As if I’d make it through the door now.”  

You laugh helplessly happy and kiss him. “Happy birthday.” And then a little quieter. “I love you.”  

He softens visibly but doesn’t say anything else. You don’t need to hear him to know.  

You think the spare copy of your keys might make him cry. So you decide you’ll give it to him later. 

 The clock hasn’t hit midnight yet, anyhow. You have plenty of time.  

Now and always.  

[comatosebunny09]

sparkler | sylus

— summary: quietly, he plucks your glass from betwixt your fingers to set it down. fixes you with a look that’s both fragile and intense, his breath fanning over your inflamed skin. taking up your hand, he gently splays your fingers over his chest where his heart beats a war cadence. his voice is barely above a whisper, lips quivering. “what will it take for me to convince you that this heart races solely for you?” — cw: written with female reader in mind, p-in-v, unprotected sex, fluffy romantic filth, praise, language, alcohol use, i'm half awake rn so forgive me if i miss any warnings, mdni — wc: ~3k — notes: inspired by @leighsartworks216 and the only for love c-drama. thank you so much for reading! — now playing: merry-go-round of life - morunas fade - the driver era

New Year’s is a time for celebration—an occasion to usher in fresh beginnings and bountiful blessings. To reflect on things past and to look forward to the future.

You didn’t want to spend such a significant time alone.

So, naturally, you link up with a friend to herald in the new year over hotpot and cold beers.

The pair of you meander down the moon-laden street toward your apartment, arms linked together. You’re giggling and gossiping, tucked cozy in your coats, shielded from the wintry chill. Bags of ingredients crinkle in your hands, waiting to be cooked and consumed.

You’re indebted to her for sparing some time for you.

Sure, you could’ve easily watched the fireworks from your balcony by yourself. But you’re tired of being alone. You decided to make a change, shedding your reclusive shell. Just because you couldn’t get everything you wanted didn’t mean you had to shut yourself out from living.

Caught up in your thoughts, you hardly notice your friend slowing to a stop. You glance at her, your cheeks aching with a smile.

“What’s up?” you chuckle, studying her stunned expression.

Her lips quiver, eyes widening a fraction. You nudge her with your elbow, trying to draw her out of whatever trance she’s fallen into.

“That your man?” she teases once she’s broken free, a smirk spreading across her face.

“What are you talking about?”

Following her line of sight, you finally understand what has her so shell-shocked.

In the middle of the street, against the sleek outline of a car, sits a familiar shock of white. He commands attention without trying to, a towering presence with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets and a smile rounding his lips. His scarlet gaze is tuned to you. Mirthful as he takes you in, frost adorning his black turtleneck.

You’re rooted to the spot. It is your friend’s turn to chuckle. She gently pats your arm, slipping out of your grasp.

“Looks like you don’t need me anymore.”

With that, she eases out of frame, bidding you goodnight, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she walks past the focal point of your evening.

Left to your own devices, you strangle the bags of food in your hands. Gaze falls to the ground, and you awkwardly shift your weight between your feet.

He’s the last person you expected to see tonight. Figured he had more important matters to attend to instead of showing up on your doorstep on New Year’s Eve.

You wanted to spend the night with him more than anything. Hoped you could. But you knew that was wishful thinking. You knew where you stood in his life, knew your place. It was no longer by his side. You more so played the role of a supporting character these days, quietly watching him from the sidelines.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised when the tips of his shoes cut into frame. You peer up at him, your heart racing, your mouth slightly ajar, plumes of frosted breath forming between you. He’s wordless as he brushes your fingers with his, plucking the convenience store bags from your hands.

He motions to the entrance of your complex with a nod. Starts towards the door, not waiting for your response. And you toddle after him once your legs remember the art of movement.

—

Two glasses clink together in a celebratory fashion.

The contents for your hotpot sit unopened on the counter, your beers dripping with condensation alongside them.

Swathed in the moonlight pouring in from your balcony doors and the idle flicker of scented candles littered throughout your living space, you share a bottle of wine with your company. The red and viscous fluid sloshes about in your glass, reminiscent of the idle stir of his irises as he studies you.

“Sorry if I was interrupting,” he says after taking a swig. The rumble of his voice vibrates in your gut. It’s a pleasant feeling, stirring alongside the alcohol warming your veins. “Had I known you made plans, I would’ve made myself scarce.”

You wave your hand dismissively, a soft chuckle in your throat as you prop your cheek against your palm. “She’ll be alright. Pretty sure she was just hanging out with me out of pity, anyway.”

He hums into his wine glass before taking another sip. You watch with bated breath as his Adam’s apple bobs, your throat dry. He mirrors you with an unguarded smile, elbow settled on your couch’s headrest, temple resting on his knuckles.

Silence stretches between you. Comfortable where it was once tense. He sets his glass on your coffee table. Pats your thigh, his palm warm and possessive, moving along your quad. 

“I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend my night than with you.” His confession catches you off guard. 

You swallow, struggling to find your voice. When it returns to you, you jest to dispel the solemn atmosphere, “Trouble in paradise?” 

It’s too easy to put up that playful front. To tuck the anxious little thing you truly are beneath years of built-up facades.

Sylus snorts, brow quirked, eyes shining with intrigue. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snicker, your glass poised at your lips. “Well, I don’t know. I figured you would have rather spent your time with…someone else.” That someone else, of course, being one pretty and polite Miss Hunter.

Something in his gaze shifts as your voice peters. He has a faraway look in his eyes before he leans in, the couch cushions squeaking beneath his weight. 

Quietly, he plucks your glass from betwixt your fingers to set it down. Fixes you with a look that’s both fragile and intense, his breath fanning over your inflamed skin. Taking up your hand, he gently splays your fingers over his chest where his heart beats a war cadence.

His voice is husky, lips quivering. “What will it take for me to convince you that this heart races solely for you?”

Your mouth falls slightly open, a delightful thrill shooting through you. You can’t look away, drawn into the crimson whirlpool of his stare. Unconsciously, you lean closer, his lashes bowing as he glances at your lips. If he means what he says, then—

You’re not thinking when you whisper it. Entwined in the spell that’s befallen you, the warmth he exudes, the sincerity in his tone. 

“Kiss me.”

You’ve but a tender hand curving around the nape of your neck and fingers sneaking up into the delicate hairs that reside there as a warning before he acquiesces, luring you into a kiss that sets your chest aflame and siphons the air from your lungs. 

His lips are as soft as the petals they resemble, pressing against yours. Warm and insistent, invoking the barest sound from your throat. He draws back slightly, scrutinizing your features. Searching for any signs of discomfort, quietly offering you an out. But you don’t deter him, your fingers tugging at the fabric of his sweater around his chest. 

He chuckles something enamored. You kiss away his smirk, drunk off the feel of him. Off his taste, his scent. Wine tastes so much better when it comes from him. 

He cautiously pries your mouth open with his tongue, pouring the grittiest sound into you when you grant him the entry he so politely requests. 

The air shifts when his tongue finds yours. They ensnare themselves in a lazy, wet waltz. You pull him impossibly closer, the hard planes of his chest pressed against yours. Your arms intuitively twine around his neck. His palms splay on your hips, mooring you to the spot. 

You trade quieted groans, greedily sucking down air between the dancing of your mouths. It’s all so much, and yet not enough. You want to burrow under his skin. Take up residence in his heart, living there for all eternity. He breaks away from the tempting suction of your mouth with a soft, sticky click. Your head falls back, lids shuttered, when his lips brand the column of your throat.

His kisses are honey-slow. Warm like a mug of hot cocoa on frigid nights. He tugs the neckline of your shirt to the side, mouth sealing around the slope where shoulder meets neck. You exhale shakily, your fingers sifting through his hair. He grazes your flesh with his teeth, companying it with a suck that’s sure to leave pretty petals of green and blue blooming there come morning. 

His name falls from your lips whilst his hands make several expeditions up and down your sides. Map out the contours of your body, stroking over your full thighs. He kisses his way back up to your mouth. Amid the sticky grind of your lips, he rasps,

“You taste so sweet. I knew you would be.”

Your heart flutters. Something pinches in your gut at his praise. His thumbs ease over the outer swell of your breasts. He stokes the embers of desire within you to life, and he hasn’t even taken your clothes off.

Thumbs experimentally graze your pebbled nipples. You jolt, pleasant tingles cresting below the surface of your skin. He bites your lip. Tugs on it, pulling the neediest sound from the dredges of your chest. 

“May I?” he husks, artful fingers at the hem of your sweater. 

You nod drunkenly. Don’t think you could ever say no to him. Not when he’s looking at you like this. Touching you like this, his fingernails igniting a flurry of goosebumps across your skin as they slide over your stomach. He tears the offending garment from your shoulders. Your hair waterfalls around your neck, eyes shining with ardor, lips parted. 

He weighs your breasts in his palms. Kneads them, trapping your nipples beneath the pads of his thumbs. The feeling is amplified through the frailty of your bra. He takes his time, wordlessly appraising you with his hands. Watches you with keen interest, drunk off the moment as well.

“Can I taste you?” he breathes against your lips. How could you deny him when he’s been so considerate thus far? So gentle, handling you like glass? 

You nod, anticipation coagulating in your veins. Suck in a breath when the lace of your bra slides down your nipples. He bunches your bra beneath your bosom. And the crisp air that follows is short-lived, replaced by the hot suction of his mouth. 

His name flows like the sweetest supplication. You throw your head back, bowing into him, fingers tugging at tufts of white. He fastens a hand to the ridges of your spine, keeping you in place. Plucks your other nipple whilst he feasts, a clever tongue fluttering over your peak. He breaks away with a sticky pop to pay your other breast the same homage. You feel like you could die, subjected to his terribly distracting mouth like this. 

You burn hot. Need more. And you’re pulling at the bottom stitching of his turtleneck, trying to pry it off. He chuckles, hearty and full-blooded, leaning back to let you tear it from his shoulders. His mouth is back on your breasts, greedily licking your nipples into the hot cavity of his mouth.

You squirm. Pinch your thighs together to ward off the pleasant pulsing taking place between them. Sylus’ hands roost on your hips. He helps you stand, reluctantly releasing your tit from his mouth. Helps you shimmy out of your jeans, snickering when you stumble to get them off.

Drawing you into his lap by the crooks of your knees, he kisses you anew. Your hands frame his cheeks, your legs bracketing his hips. Your nipples deliciously slide against the rigid pane of his chest. Your cunt drools, slowly staining your panties with arousal, pressed up against the seam of his trousers.

With an arm fastened to your waist and a hand cupping the apple of your ass, he encourages you to grind against him. He guides you into a rhythm. A tortuously slow dance that has you panting, mind reeling, sparkles of white invading your sight. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, hips stuttering, panties sticking to your slit. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth hinged open, irises glazing over with lust. “Do you want me inside you?”

You nod eagerly, your hips moving of their own volition over his lap. You giggle when he suddenly hefts you into his arms one-handed, his effortless display of strength making you pine for him even more.

Your shadows dance along the walls of your hallway as he carries you to your bedroom. He tenderly deposits you onto your crisp comforter once inside, your panties and bra long discarded, and you watch, propped on your elbows, as he unfastens his belt and trousers. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth when you catch sight of him.

Even beneath the low light of your room, he is impressive. Hot and turgid, slapping intimidatingly against his abs. Your mouth waters as he nears you, to which he smirks, a laugh brewing in his chest. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he teases, notching himself between your legs, his forearms locked in the bends of your knees, splitting you nice and open. “You might stroke my ego a little too well, staring like that.”

You can’t help it. You’ve fantasized about him before, his image hijacking your mind when the ache between your legs became unbearable. But your imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. To his body, burning hot beneath the glide of your fingers. To his voice, smooth as whiskey, as he groans from your attention. To the predatory smolder of his eyes, hair falling from its once perfect coiffure into his face. 

He rubs himself against your slit, coating his shaft in your nectar. You share an exhale, a gruff sound out, your thighs quaking. He feels so good when his cock head bumps your clit. Your eyes roll, toes curl. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, thumb finding your clit and massaging it with meticulous arcs. “So good for me. Can’t wait to be inside you.”

You clench around nothing, swiveling your hips to chase the feel of his girth gliding along your nether region. To guide it inside you, your entrance puckering and drooling for him. Solely for him. 

“Sylus, please. Fuck.”

“Do you want me to stop?” It seems he has no intention of doing so, his thumb still sifting through your sticky folds, hips still moving with delicious friction.

“N-no. Never. Fuck. Need you…inside.” 

He takes up your cue, a smile canting his lips. Taps his weighted cock against your sticky cunt a few times before nestling the head into your entrance. And, oh.

“Fuck,” he strains, arms bracketing either side of your head. He slowly eases home, your greedy cunt drawing him in deeper. You cross your ankles at the small of his back, and he props himself on his elbows, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full. Stuffed to the brim, his hips notched up against your inner thighs. He pants from the effort of easing into you, from the effort of not losing himself to the hot suction of your body.

You pull him down into a kiss. Undulate your hips, spurring him to move. He thrusts into you, shallow at first, giving you time to adjust to his girth. Your fingernails bite into his shoulder blades, your pants of discomfort traded for pathetic whimpers for more more more.

He fucks you into the bed thereafter, your headboard cracking against the wall, the air punched from your lungs with each stroke. He folds you in half, your knees pressing into your breasts. This angle forces him deeper, where he unravels the pleasant tangle of nerves budding inside you.

“Unngh, you feel so fucking good,” he lauds, his hips creating a rhythm of their own. “Sucking me in like that. So fucking filthy.”

You clench around him, a sparkling feeling erupting in your gut. Tears scorch the sides of your face. A wail swells in your chest. He angles his head down to kiss them away, to stifle those pretty noises you make for him, swallowing them whole. You’re close, so close, your orgasm sinking its claws into the lining of your stomach and oozing down.

“I’m gonna—gonna cum,” you manage, peering into his eyes, and the amount of affection that resides in his gaze shoves you closer toward that slurry slope.

“Yeah? Gonna cum?” he dotes, the lowered pitch of his voice overwhelming. He fucks you harder, the bed squealing, your eyes screwing shut.

Your orgasm creeps through you, spilling like hot liquid. You grit your teeth against the rush. Spasm, a long, broken moan dragged from your body. With a few more thrusts, he staggers into the void with you, spurred by your tongue curling around his name and your cunt surrounding him like a warm embrace. 

You both start when a series of explosions erupt outside your window. Peer outside, fireworks igniting across the night sky. He looks down at you. Chuckles, sweeping some errant hair from your face as you drift down. Your cheek gathered in his palm, he swoops in for a tender kiss, still nestled inside you, his thumb cruising over the apple of your cheek.

“Happy New Year,” he croons when he parts, eyes shining boyishly, smile affectionate.

You reach up to pull him down by his nape, his weight heavy yet reassuring atop you. “Happy New Year,” you return, equally as enamored. 

As he rests his cheek against yours, the pair of you housed in the safety of each other’s arms, watching the fireworks scatter against the inky sky, you thank whatever higher being had chosen to bless you this New Year’s night. 

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ a very klutzy christmas ; lh43

➪ summary: something always seemed to go wrong when luke hughes, y/n y/l/n and the Christmas spirit were put in the same place together

➪ warnings: reader is klutzy, being late, forgetting things, running into people (?)

➪ word count: 3.2k

➪ cupid's notes: part of ho ho hockey! i'm so excited for you guys to read this fic, it was supposed to be a four times their christmases were less than ideal but i got carried away with writing this one that i just decided to leave it at this! if you guys want me to write the other three i definitely can, just let me know :)

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

“Luke c’mon! We have to go, we’re already late.”

She bounced on her feet as she waited to hear the footsteps of her boyfriend, every passing second felt like an eternity. She flicked her eyes down to her watch, groaning at the time it displayed. They were supposed to have left over half an hour ago, and for once it wasn’t her fault that her boyfriend’s family was sitting around their house waiting for them to arrive. 

“Luke, I swear if you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’m going to lose my shit!”

And exactly 30 seconds later she heard the footsteps of her boyfriend climbing down the stairs, pulling his sweater on that was no doubt what she had laid out for him the night before. He jumped off the last step, ruffling his hand through his hair, flashing her a smile, “I’m ready.”

She only stared at him, anger shining in her eyes. Luke simply walked over and placed a kiss on her cheek, giving her an innocent look, “Don’t be mad at me.”

“We were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, probably more now, and you’re over here taking your sweet ass fucking time-”

“Baby calm down, look at me,” He placed his hands on her arms, looking down at her with a comforting smile, “Everything's going to be okay. They’re not going to be mad at you, they’re not going to be mad at all. Well, maybe my mom will be but definitely not at you. Take a deep breath, alright?”

She sighed and ran a shaky hand over her coat, “Fine, but I’m still mad because I have to wear this,” she pulled on her red turtleneck, “because someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

Luke’s boyish grin made its way onto his face as he slipped his new sneakers on, moving to open the door for her, “M’lady.”

She stepped through the doorway, making her way down the hallway as Luke trailed behind her, easily catching up to throw an arm around her shoulder and place a kiss on her temple. She softened slightly and looked up at him, a small smile gracing her lips. 

Maybe she was over-stressing just a little bit. It would be her and Luke’s ‘second’ Christmas together, but only her first with his family and it was getting to her head. She had met his family plenty of times before, even spending the summer at the lake house, and spending countless nights at Luke’s old apartment with Jack before he moved in with her. But something about the Christmas energy made her nervous, and something always seemed to go wrong when you put Luke Hughes, y/n y/l/n, and the Christmas spirit together. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The car ride to the Hughes’ house was quick and familiar, y/n watching the snow fall with nothing short of amusement and nervousness. Luke’s hand rested on her thigh, emanating a comforting feeling and a warmth that she could only associate with him.

She glanced over at him, watching as he removed his hand from her thigh to make the turn down his parents’ street. He was dressed in one of her favorite sweaters of his, it was a nice dark but muted blue that she always loved on him and the collar of his white dress shirt folded over the neckline. His legs were adorned with one of the many pairs of black jeans he owned and his favorite pair of new white sneakers on his feet. 

Luke looked over at her, a smirk on his face once he caught her staring, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, but thankfully the darkness that settled at only 4:00 pm covered it well. He held out his hand, making a small gesture to get her to place hers in his. Once she did, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it,  “Whatcha lookin’ at pretty girl?”

“You.” Y/n replied in a murmur, curling up in the car seat as best as she could, “I did a good job at picking out your outfit.”

“‘Course you did, why do you think I let you?”

She only blushed more at his response, going back to look out the window just in time to see Ellen and Jim’s house come into view. A new wave of nerves settled over her as they pulled into the driveway. She felt Luke’s hand squeeze hers as he turned the car off, shifting to look at her.

Y/n looked over at him and smiled before glancing in the back seat. Her eyes widened as she saw the lack of her favorite Christmas dish, “Luke!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We forgot the pie.” She groaned, sitting back in her seat and throwing her head back against the headrest, “Fucking hell.”

“Y/n/n it’s okay, they’re not gonna-”

“That’s not the point Luke. I promised your mom I would bring something and now I forgot it.”

Luke’s face settled into a pout at the disappointment that tainted her face. He reached for her hand again, clutching it between both of his, allowing his thumb to rub over her knuckles, “Baby, listen, please. I know how well you wanted today to be, how perfect you wanted it to be. And I understand that them not being mad isn’t the problem.

“But they love you, probably more than me. They’re not going to be upset because you were having to deal with your childish boyfriend.”

She glanced over at his teasing tone, a huge smile on his face once he saw her lips turn up. She only let out a small ‘humph’ before responding, “You’re always making dumb jokes at the most inappropriate times.”

“I’m just trying to get my girl to smile, is that such a crime these days?”

“I suppose not, but you still have to make it up to me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” A mischievous glint lit in his eye as he leaned closer to her.

“I don’t know.” She murmured quietly before replicating his actions, meeting his lips over the center console.

Luke grinned into the kiss before pulling away and leaving a small kiss on her forehead, “Let’s go, yeah?”

She nodded as she pulled away, climbing out of the car. She pulled her coat tighter around her, watching as Luke opened the trunk and grabbed the presents, stacking them on top of each other.

“Be careful Lukas, you know what happened last year.”

He rolled his eyes, making his way up the front steps after slamming the trunk closed. He knocked on the front door just as y/n walked up beside him, looping her arm through his.

Soon, the door opened and Jim stood in the entry of the house, “Hey you two.”

“Hi, Mr. Hughes!”

Jim took the presents from his youngest son, before gesturing them into the house, “How many times have Ellen and I told you to just call us by our names, Y/n?”

A sheepish grin made her way to her face, stepping inside of the Hughes’ house, and immediately she was met with the comforting atmosphere of the home. She moved to slip off her boots, but Luke’s hand placed on her lower back stopped her, “I got you.”

This only made her face flush more as Luke knelt down and unzipped her boots, sliding them off with ease. Her nervousness didn’t falter, however, slightly stumbling as Luke pulled her into the kitchen where his mom stood, “Hi momma.”

Ellen looked up from what she was doing, smiling much like him, “Hi! Oh, Luke why’d make the poor girl wait to be here? Probably stressed her out a ton.” She pulled her son into a hug, squeezing him tightly as she pestered him.

As she pulled away, she turned her attention to his girlfriend, her smile getting even wider if that was possible, “Hello sweetheart. Thank you so much for coming, we’re so happy to have you.”

Y/n hugged her back, “Thank you for having me! And you’re right, Luke did make me stress.”

The woman only briefly pulled away to swat at her son’s arm, who held his hands up in surrender before making his way over to where his brothers were, whatever that may have been. Ellen finally pulled out of the hug to continue working on the mashed potatoes.

The girl raised up on her toes as a nervous habit, “Do you need any help?”

“If you want to! You can start setting the table if you wish, dear.”

As she grabbed the plates and started setting the table, she released a small sigh before speaking up, “Also, I may have sort of forgotten the pie. I had it in the fridge and then I just got so flustered before we left that I forgot it.”

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I made extra dessert anyways because Jack always eats all of it.”

“I do not. That is extremely hurtful.” Jack walked into the kitchen, hand brushing an invisible piece of fuzz off his shirt, “Quinn helps too.”

He wrapped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, bringing her into a side hug, “And nice to see you y/n/n. Good job at dressing Luke.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his words, a small smirk playing on her lips, “I do try to make sure my boyfriend is dressed nicely. It seems you don’t have anyone to help you.”

He scoffed playfully, “I am wounded. You are supposed to be on my side here too.”

“If you’re going to be in the kitchen, you are going to be helping. Help y/n set the plates- Don’t whine at me, Jack.”

He grumbled, taking a stack of forks into his hands and placing them on the side of the plates. 

“Forks go on the left, Jacky. Knives go on the right, ” Y/n teased, now placing napkins on top of each plate, laughing as she heard another annoyed groan from him and watched his eyes roll.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

After a while, dinner was nearing ready, y/n having spent most of the time in the kitchen talking with Ellen and helping out when she could. She wiped her hands on her skirt, trying to rid herself of the sweat that clung to them. 

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom quickly if that’s okay?”

Ellen laughed, “You don’t need to ask to go to the bathroom, hon. Just go, I’ll be fine here.”

She blushed, another wave of embarrassment washed over her as she took in her words, “Right.”

She started walking out of the kitchen, scolding herself softly at her actions, stop embarrassing yourself. She froze halfway out of the kitchen, backtracking once she realized she didn’t actually know where the bathroom was, “Mrs- Ellen? Where exactly is-”

“Down the hall and to your left, baby.” A hand fell on her shoulder and a kiss was placed on her temple. 

She turned to look at who it was, grinning when she saw the familiar face of her boyfriend, a lopsided grin that practically matched her own on his face. He kissed her head again, wrapping her up in a hug. He hadn’t seen her since they arrived, catching up with his dad and oldest brother in the living room as they watched whatever sports game was on. 

“Missed you.” He murmured into her ear, squeezing her a little tighter afterward.

“We’ve only been separated for what? 40 minutes?”

“Doesn’t matter, still missed you.”

They stayed like that for a minute before she reminded him softly that she had to go to the bathroom. He pulled away and walked over to his mom, starting up a conversation about something she had no clue about. She was already heading out of the kitchen and down the hallway when she heard them talk. 

She got halfway to the bathroom, looking down at her feet as she thought to herself, when her head knocked against something, groaning in pain, “Mother fucker-” She blinked the tears away that stung in her eyes, clutching her head. 

Once the tears were cleared enough that she could see, she saw Jack standing there, mirroring her actions with a hand to his head. He had been just heading out of the bathroom when it happened, thoughts also racing in his mind causing him to not look where he was going when he ran into her, heads meeting.

“Fucking hell that hurt.” He exclaimed, rubbing at the spot on his forehead that took most of the impact.

They didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just trying to ease their rapidly growing headaches. Once they both got it calmed down enough, they stared at each other before letting out laughs of amusement, “We really need to pay better attention to where we’re walking huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t need everyone to stare at my forehead and then explain that the Jack Hughes caused the bump.”

He ushered her forehead, planning to get him and y/n ice packs from the freezer, but when she took a step, black dots clouded at the edge of her vision causing her to stumble, just barely catching herself against the wall. She heard Jack’s curse, leaning into him as an arm came around her waist, “You okay?”

“Dizzy.” She murmured back, closing her eyes and opening them again, hopes of clearing her fuzzy vision failing. 

“Hold on. Luke!”

Y/n winced at Jack’s yell, pain worsening in her head. She could only give a soft nod of acknowledgment at his whispered apology, holding onto him tighter as she felt the overwhelming dizzy feeling wash over her. 

Luke came walking out of the kitchen, eyes drifting down the hallway, “What’re you yelling for?”

His gaze fell upon his brother and girlfriend, huddled together against a wall, a worried expression on the former and a pained one on the other, “What happened? Is she okay?”

He walked briskly to get to the two, immediately taking his girlfriend into his arms, pressing multiple soft kisses to her head, and rubbing her arm up and down, “What’s going on?”

“We knocked our heads together, was going to get us ice packs when she stumbled. Said she felt dizzy.”

“I’m fine, just dizzy like he said.”

Luke shook his head, tucking her into his side safely, walking them back to the kitchen to sit down, “Let’s get you some ice, sweet girl, c’mon.”

He sat her down on a chair, brushing the hair away from her face. He heard Jack mumble something to their mom but his focus was solely on his girlfriend, cupping her face and looking over her head. She winced as his thumb brushed over the point of impact, shaking her head slightly at his apology. 

There was a tap on Luke’s shoulder, Ellen now standing behind him with an ice pack wrapped in a towel in her hand, “Here. Put this on her forehead for ten minutes and then take it off.”

He nodded, taking the ice pack from her and placing it gently on y/n’s forehead. Ellen smiled softly before switching her gaze to the girl, “How’re you doing?”

“Could be worse,” she murmured, blinking slowly to clear her vision again. “Has to be the first time I’ve knocked heads with someone this hard.”

“That’s just because Jack has a big head.” A new voice entered the room and as best as she could, she moved her eyes to find the third Hughes brother.

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Would you shut up?” Luke asked exasperated, pressing the ice pack a little harder into his girlfriend’s head as she winced from the noise.

“Sorry.” The two murmured.

“S’okay. Just fight quieter please if you’re going to fight.” She spoke up, leaning into the cold compress.

They nodded taking their seats at the table as they watched their younger brother and his girlfriend. Luke slowly took the icepack away from her head, placing it on the ground next to her chair. He moved the hair that had fallen back into her face, tucking it behind her ear, “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He stands up, placing a kiss on her temple before sitting down next to her. The six of them start eating, easily falling into a conversation about hockey even after the multiple attempts Ellen had to end it. Y/n doesn’t mind it, her head is still pounding and even the thought of thinking about hockey is hurting it more.

She eats the majority of the food Luke has placed on her plate, taking her time and pushing it around slightly. She feels bad, she doesn’t want Ellen to feel like she doesn’t like the food, but it’s hard for her to focus right now and the knocking her head against Jack’s has left her more tired than she was when she arrived.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

After dinner, the six of them all clean up, or y/n tries to and then is scolded by Luke and his mom to sit on the chair or go into the living room and lie down. So that’s where she was when Luke came and found her, curled up on one side of the couch, her head resting on the armrest.

“Hey,” he kisses her softly, sitting down next to her, “You want to head out?”

She went to protest, saying they hadn’t opened their gifts or even had dessert yet but the idea of going home sounded really appealing, so she nodded, using Luke’s help to stand up. They walked back to the kitchen, informing everyone that they were going to be heading back home. 

Luke grabbed the small platter of cookies and pieces of pie from his mom, y/n thanking her for him. They then made their way into the foyer where Luke helped her get her boots on, patting each thigh when he was done. 

They said their goodbyes and then walked down the driveway with gifts and dessert in hand, placing them in the backseat before climbing into the car.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I feel better after eating.”

“That’s good.”

He pulled out of the driveway, making their way down the street when he heard her voice, “Can’t believe the first Christmas with your family we show up late, we forget the pie and I knocked heads with your brother.”

He chuckled, “Honestly, did you expect anything less?”

She thought about it, and no she didn’t expect less. Ever since she and Luke met their Christmases had been less than ideal. When they met, she knocked into him at a coffee shop, successfully spilling coffee all over herself and Luke. On their first Christmas together, Luke broke his gift for her, and she had to deal with a flustered and anxious Luke. And now this.

“You’re right. I think we’re just destined to have dumbass Christmases.”

“Hey, at least it’ll be my turn next year. Let’s hope I don’t break something.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

He did indeed break something, his arm. He was setting up Christmas lights around their house, it would be the first one in it. He didn’t know how it happened, all he knew was that one moment he was connecting sets of lights and the next he was on the ground clutching his arm in pain. It was a long night in the ER. 

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[flowerandblood]

Hi, for the ask game you’re making

Glass cuts deepest

🖼️ Museum

🍁 Autumn

💐 Care

🎃 Jealousy

😬 Semi-public sex

🍓 Sexual tension

Congratulations on the milestone 😊!

The Art of Body

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ prompts: museum, autumn, jealousy, care, sexual tension, semi-public sex ]

[ warnings: unprotected sex, smut, mention of sexual trauma ]

A short written as a celebration of my 4000 followers milestone as part of this ask game, which is part of Glass Cuts Deepest story.

Rino Stefano Tagliafierro is the animation artist of François Boucher's "Leda and the Swan" 1740 [post by eucanthos]

______

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you to do anything. It's the middle of the school year, I'm sure there'll be a lot of people there." Wright muttered, looking at him with uncertainty.

He felt frustration, knowing what she meant by people.

Women.

The truth was that since they had been engaged, he had gradually but successfully managed to simply pretend that he didn't see them. When they were in a restaurant or on a walk he would focus only on her and on talking to her, often holding her hand – it made him feel safer, like when you are looking down a great precipice while holding on to the railing.

He was very proud of himself when one day they went to the cinema together to see an animation they both really wanted to watch – it turned out that there were women sitting on either side of their seats. Wright wanted to back out and just leave, recognising that they didn't need to see the film at all, but he was tired of running away all the time.

When they sat down, he shifted in his seat as close to Wright as possible, not wanting the person sitting next to him to touch him – his fiancée had been leaning over his ear throughout the screening, asking if everything was okay, and he only nodded.

He couldn't remember much of what he saw – he was unable to focus as he felt only the rapid pounding of his heart and the cold sweat on his back.

When they left the cinema, he felt relieved, but also proud, because he had done it – even though he felt sick a few times and wanted to vomit, he had endured and nothing had happened.

He felt that he was slowly ready to just go out to people and not wonder who he was passing on the way.

"I want to go there. It's the biggest museum in our country. We've been talking about it for a long time." He said, putting his black turtleneck over his head and sighed, seeing that he had ruined his elaborately styled hairdo by doing so.

Wright noticed this and involuntarily reached into his hair, trying to comb it properly again with her fingers.

He swallowed hard, simultaneously frightened and pleased that she had touched him so suddenly – he repeated to himself at times like this that he trusted her, her familiar scent and the warmth of her skin affecting him in a calming way.

"If you say so. Maybe you're right. I've wanted to see this place for a long time too." She admitted finally, and he smiled with satisfaction, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Give me a moment. I need to change." She said, opening his wardrobe, looking in it probably for one of her dresses.

Some part of him wanted her to change in front of him – she never did. On the other hand, he dreaded it – he had never seen her naked – not completely.

He had never seen her bare breasts or buttocks, only felt them beneath his hands when he put his hand under her shirt.

He swallowed hard as she threw him a warm smile and locked herself in the bathroom, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

He waited patiently for her, and when he heard her come out, he froze – her floral dress was fastened from the front with large white buttons, a fluffy, light-coloured jumper over her shoulders. She had said something to him, probably that she was ready, but all he could think about was that she hadn't put her bra on.

He could easily see the shape of her nipples under the material and something about the sight frustrated him.

Why should others look at something that even he couldn't see?

He wanted to say it, but before he opened his mouth he thought it was unfair – he himself wouldn't want her to dictate what he could and couldn't wear, and he thought his remark might be rude.

"Let's go." He said finally.

It took them a couple of hours to get there – during this time Wright had bought them tickets for all the exhibitions online, so they wouldn't have to wait in long queues at the box office. He liked how organised she was – the fact that she always helped him and didn't leave everything on his head.

He felt he could rely on her.

When they got out of the car, they ran ahead, holding hands – an intense autumn rain had broken up all around them, which meant that by the time they reached the main entrance, they were all wet.

The security guard scanned their tickets and pointed the way they should follow – after a while, their eyes were met by spacious, bright, richly lit halls with walls filled with paintings by great artists, with sculptures of wood, bronze and marble all around them.

His fiancée approached one of the medieval statues depicting the Beautiful Madonna and Child, the one they both knew well from their art history textbooks.

"Look! It's even more beautiful than in the pictures." She said cheerfully, quickly grabbing her phone, taking pictures of the sculpture.

He, however, stared at her dully, seeing the wet material of her dress clinging to her skin, her nipples clearly outlined, popping from the cold.

He felt both irritation and desire at the sight, his manhood pulsed softly in his trousers, expressing his desire to touch her.

He grunted and turned his head away, walking over to one of the baroque paintings hanging on the wall, trying not to think about it.

I'm sexualising her too much, he rebuked himself in his mind, feeling a kind of shame by doing what he himself would never want to experience again in his life.

He regained his good humour and walked with her through the long corridors filled with art, stopping constantly at some artefact – they talked about everything, delighting in the workmanship and details together, while criticising what they didn't like.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach again when, standing at one of the sculptures, he saw that the man standing opposite them was looking straight at Wright's breasts – he would have thought he was being oversensitive again if it hadn't been for the slight smile of satisfaction on the man's lips, which told him that he was pleased with how much was visible through the thin material of her dress.

He didn't know why, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged at it, pulling her the other way, frustrated and enraged.

"What happened? Did someone touch you?" She mumbled, following him obediently, thinking it was all about him, as usual.

He stopped and looked at her, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Did you have to dress like that? Everyone's looking at you." He hissed, but immediately regretted his words – Wright blinked and shook her head, horror and discomfort in her eyes, as if what he had said had caused her pain.

"What do you mean? I don't understand. After all, my dress doesn't even reveal my cleavage." She said resentfully, looking down, only after a moment noticing what he and everyone else had seen.

She looked at him again and pressed her lips together, covering her breasts with her jumper and her hands, as if the sight of them was something disgusting, worthy of condemnation.

He felt a sting in his heart at the sight – at the thought that she felt it was her fault that other men were looking where they shouldn't.

He swallowed hard and grabbed her hands, lowering them down, making her involuntarily reveal again what she had tried to cover up only moments before.

"– forgive me – I shouldn't have said that – it's just – fuck – I just I have a hard time with the idea that someone else might be... looking at something that even I couldn't see –"

"After all, you can look at it." She whispered, speaking so that no one could hear her. "Even now, if you want to."

"Now?" He muttered, surprised by her words.

What did she mean?

"We can go to the toilet and lock ourselves in the cabin. Our first time was like that too. You did it because the area around you didn't remind you of the place where you faced something bad. About the bed." She reminded him, and he swallowed loudly, realising it was true.

He looked down once more, at the thing he wanted so badly, and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

He felt like a little boy, unable to look at her in shame when the toilet door closed behind them. Once they made sure they were alone, they hid in one of the cabins and just looked at each other for a while.

He felt his heart thump harder in his chest as her hands slowly rose to the buttons of her dress – he watched in disbelief as she began to undo it one by one, his erection twitching and swelling in his trousers, aching with desire at the sight of her bare skin.

When she reached the height of her belly, she stopped and her hands dropped – her dress was unbuttoned, but revealed only a small line of her naked skin – he could see that she was breathing heavily as was he, panting with excitement.

Involuntarily, he took one slow step towards her, then another – his large hand rose uncertainly to the height of her chest and pushed the material of her dress aside in a gentle, lazy motion. He sighed deeply, immediately covering what he saw with his fingers, feeling himself breathe through his mouth out of lust – he looked into her eyes as her hand closed over his, encouraging him to sink deeper into the structure of her plump, soft bosom.

He leaned in and kissed her, unable to withstand the tension he felt inside – his lower abdomen was filled with a wonderfully familiar, warm, tickling sensation that made his length completely hard. He pressed his hips against her abdomen, rolling them back and forth, trying to somehow soothe the need for closeness and tenderness that only she could give him.

"– feels good? –" She breathed out into his mouth, letting their lips caress again and again with the sticky clicks of their saliva, the skin of her breasts wonderfully warm and swollen, melting beneath his fingers.

"– pull down your panties –" He instructed, and she moaned softly into his mouth, immediately obeying his command.

He let her go for a moment, dealing with his trousers, only to release his heavy, painfully swollen erection – as soon as her underwear landed on the ground, he grabbed her in his arms and lifted her, so that her breasts were at the level of his face.

They both cried out as at the same time his lips closed over her hard nipple and the head of his cock opened her wide – he gasped in pleasure, feeling how warm and moist she was, but not seeing anything that was happening from her waist down, covered by the material of her dress.

"– ah –" She mewled as his arms embraced her in a confident hug and pressed her body against the cold tiles, trying to keep her balance as he sank all the way into her body with one, sure thrust of his hips.

"– be quiet or I'll stop –" He threatened and they both froze when they heard someone enter – his cock pulsed inside her greedily as he simply continued with her in that position.

He felt her hands tighten in his hair, her hot pussy squeezed his manhood hard as his tongue swirled around her little nipple, teasing and sucking on it alternately.

He grunted quietly as he felt her begin to roll her hips – some part of him wanted to stop her, hearing that someone was still inside, however the other, more animalistic part of him just wanted to pound into her – and that's what he did.

He heard her squeal softly and she immediately pressed her face against his hair, trying to deafen the sound, as their naked bodies began to slam against each other with loud, sticky smacks of her moisture. He was no longer interested in whether or not the person inside knew what had just taken place – all he could focus on was their heavy, ragged breaths, the wonderful, growing tension in his loins, the squeeze in his testicles testifying that he was close.

He couldn't contain the low growl of delight that passed in vibration across her breast, couldn't contain how desperate he was, couldn't contain what euphoria possessed him at the thought of looking, smelling, touching her naked body, experiencing nothing but bliss.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled softly into his ear, so that only he was able to hear it – her small fingers clenched on his body allowing her to keep her balance and take what he was giving her, as shocked by what they were doing as he was.

All he could think about was how warm and wet she was, how easily she welcomed him deep inside her, how much she wanted him even though they had been together for so long.

The level of trust he held in her made him able to focus only on pleasure, and after a few messy, loud slaps he came inside her with a gasp of relief.

Her nails digging into his shoulders and hair made it almost painful when he felt her body shake with an aggressive, intense orgasm, causing her to stifle a moan with difficulty, making a quiet, whimpering sound.

"– shhh – shhh, little one –" He whispered, still deep inside her, feeling his manhood and her fleshy walls pulsing in one united rhythm, snuggled into her soft, warm chest.

The touch of her bare skin, her heart beating beneath his cheek was so wonderfully intimate, personal, sweet.

Why hadn't he done this before?

They were both relieved when they heard the sound of the water being drained in the other cabin, then the door opening and someone's footsteps indicating that they were alone.

"– Aemond – my legs are aching –" She mumbled, still crossing her calves on his back, supported only by his hands that held her buttocks.

"– just a little longer –" He muttered, pressing his face harder into the silky structure of her plump breasts.

Just a little longer.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 1 - Home Sick

Okay, let’s start this from the top. Once upon a time and all that shit.

You had somehow, some way, ended up stranded in another universe when you were going toe-to-toe with the Spot that (unfortunately) Mile’s apparently created (unintentionally). Got it? Good.

Now the question is how you got stranded in another universe while fighting the Spot is another shebang that you do not know, and frankly, not your top priority as of right now.

Your mission is finding a way to power your web-watch (no offense but the gizmo name sucks), and either use it to find Miguel, the spider-society, or your very own earth. You honestly weren’t choosy on which option you land, as long as you safely made it out alive and unscathed. 

Speaking of unscathed, which in fact you are not, you quietly swung across many buildings, in the shadows, making sure you were hard to spot. Your dark spider suit being perfect for night patrol is a blessing for the camouflage it provides you in this god forsaken gloomy city.

Now, to get back on track, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to process that you have basically been thrown into a world where in your universe is all but fiction. 

Have you kept up with the comics?

No, of course not. After Aunt May’s passing, you honestly gave up everything and just solely dedicated yourself into fighting crime. Well, you know some things, since Peter was also a mega comic nerd.

He would go on for hours and hours and hours about Batman and his kids (adopted and biological) and whatnot. You didn’t mind, since spending time with a talkative Peter was better than being in your own headspace. If you recall the latest one to come under Batman’s wing was someone named Duke? Well, that’s as far as you remember. 

Regardless, now you're looting someone’s clothing wire. Picking out a thick gray turtleneck and black leggings (thank god) you don them over your suit, making sure nothing was visible. Now the issue is your footwear. Maybe you can get away with it? 

Taking off the mask you were able to stuff it inside your bra (extra pocket, am I right?) while your gloves were hidden among your sleeves. Making sure nothing was out of place you pulled out the wallets of the two petty criminals, counting the money.

“Four-fifty, not bad.” Though you don’t condone your actions, you are in a precarious situation at the moment. Oh well. Tossing one of the wallets away (making sure not to touch it with your fingers), you also placed it inside your bra for safe keeping.

Maybe this would be enough for a motel? How expensive- or cheap are those in Gotham? With how often crimes occur, it shouldn’t be that expensive, right? Regardless, first things first, find a place to eat, find out the date and then a place to stay. Shouldn't be too hard.

Quietly climbing down the side of a complex building, you made sure the coast was clear before heading out. The lack of a jacket made you feel very vulnerable and exposed. Head down and hands to your sides, the cool breeze of the city causes shivers down your spine. “This fucking sucks.” you mumbled, making sure to avoid gothamites as much as possible. 

No time to gawk at your environment when you’re so out of place. You honestly just kept walking around, hearing police sirens and the occasional cop car driving by while you try to not lose your goddamn mind.

Walking around, using back streets and alleys you shiver as the cold nips at your face. It’s not that you’re sensitive to cold, it’s just that you can’t afford to get sick here. In a world where you don’t exist.

“Wait a minute…” thinking back on something, it’s true that you don’t exist here. But that doesn’t mean that a you- doesn’t exist. Maybe somehow there is a version of you or spider-woman here. A far reach but hey, just hours ago, this was all fictional to you. But something worth looking into. 

With a heavy sigh you walk inside an alley, looking up to gauge the time to see- oh, what’s that? Another clothing line! And guess what? It has more clothes to loot! Score! Don’t mind if I do! Finders keepers baby!

And you thought your spider luck was ass.

Discreetly looking around to see for any cameras that can potentially identify you only to come out flat. Perfect. Using the fire escape you parkour to snag a black oversized zip up sweater. 

This would be perfect in covering you even further (and now you have pockets for your mask) and making your figure harder to identify. Now you can start acting like a true gothamite.

With a pep in your step, you exit the alleyway.

Spotting a diner up ahead, settling yourself inside you order your drink of choice and a bagel just to have something to entertain yourself while you calm your nerves.

Sitting down next to a window, taking slow sips and bites from your meal you subtly look around (making a point of subtly ignoring the gaze of the cashier). It seems to be late afternoon, heading to night. Not good, not good at all. 

Besides finding a place to stay, you glance at your wrist, the web watch looking pretty obvious and suspicious out there in the open on your wrist. But, without it, you could perish in this foreign world. Should you pull a Hobie Brown and create a new watch from scratch? No, you don’t have the time, tools, or luxury. Thank god for the hoodie covering it up.

Right now, staying on task is essential. A job, maybe? With what credentials? Hell, you don’t even have an ID. Maybe a fake one? Who would do such a thing for a reasonable price and isn’t a criminal? Another note, you need supplies, enough to build web shooters and the cartridge. Unlike other spiders, you had the ability to shoot webs from your wrist, gross. But (with Peter’s intellect) you ended up also creating webs on your own in case yours fails. And it has- a lot both in comical and crucial times. Peter wouldn’t let you live anything down (god you miss him).

And being in a new world and everything going on, the last thing you need is a web block because of the high anxiety and stress this place is already giving you. You’d rather be safe than sorry. Now, how to get supplies? Stealing them seems easier than working for it. You just don’t have the time. How were you going to steal them, and from where? Who the fuck knows. Probably from a college science room or something.

In order to do even that, you need to find out the layout and what not of this place. So maybe the best place to start is the library? Doesn’t someone from Batman’s little possie work at the library? Can you risk that? Probably.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than it looks. No phone, basically no money (not counting the one you stole from criminals), no ID (or insurance), no place to stay, no allies, ya got nothing. Zip, zero, nada. 

You feel so lost and alone, so vulnerable. And the thoughts in your head are slowly getting louder and louder. Eating away at your insecurities and feelings. God, you’re starting to get homesick. Will you make it back? Will you find a way back home? Is anyone even looking for you?

Last thing you recall was fighting the Spot with Miles, Hobie, Gwen and Pavitr. You remember hopping onto Spot’s back while he was absorbing but then he poof and you along with him. Everything went black for you and then you landed here in this city (ungracefully might I add).

You just want to go home…even if it’s lonely without Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter Parker.

You really have nothing, rock bottom, baby. But then again, the only place to go is up, right? 

Sighing you finished your drink and bagel before leaving the diner, making sure to look at the clock above the exit, and aimlessly walking around. Would they let you in one of those shelters? Are those even a thing? Probably, maybe. 

Couldn’t hurt to try. Buuuuut, then again, you need the privacy, so maybe the shelter was a no go. Okay, perfect, back to square fucking zero. A cheap and possibly dangerous motel it is!

Hopefully your spider luck doesn’t fuck you over. You’re honestly thankful for not coming across any batsonas and whatnot. And you were able to get clothes so you say you’re two for two.

After looking around for some time, emphasis on some, you managed to find a motel and get yourself settled. No ID required, just cash, and you internally sobbed at the remaining funds you had left. You really will need a job or a sustainable income.

“Are underground rings still a thing? Is it a thing here?” You mumbled, discarding your stolen clothes before fiddling with your watch until its screen flashes before abruptly turning dark again. “Well now, how fucked am I?” A deep sigh resonated in the empty room. Hopefully while it turned on, Miguel would somehow by some god given miracle (or your spider luck but don’t bank on it) that he received at least a signal, no matter how microscopic it is.

You had to get home. At all costs. This place isn’t your home. It’s not like you should play by the rules. But, Ben, May, and Peter would be so disappointed in you if you break laws just to return to your home universe. And if you’re being truthful, it wouldn’t sit right with you either…

But Miles needs you. 

If this world doesn’t have a- you in it, then you aren’t needed here. So you shouldn’t waste time twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you really do need to break into a computer lab to see what’s up with your watch or scavenge for parts. Hobie built it with parts from Miguel’s earth. Meaning, you can too, with whatever scraps you can find.

You’ll prioritize your watch first, then this city. It’s unfortunate, but you really have to get back home, and you can’t let your feelings get in the way and distract you.

Maybe you should call it a night? Figure things out in the morning? A yawn takes over your thoughts. “Yea, sleep sounds really good right now.” 

These problems are for tomorrow’s you. For now, you’ll catch some Zzz’s and flesh out a detailed plan on how to get back home. 

You’re banking on hacking a computer at the library despite the risks. Shooting a web at the door to prevent any possible and/or unwanted inconveniences because let’s be honest, trust no one but yourself, especially in this bat(ha)shit crazy world, better to be safe than sorry. You need your sanity to fix or at least charge your watch in order to get back home.

“Ben, May, Peter- give me strength.” and into dreamland you go.

-

“Hey B, come look at this.” A female voice spoke out, catching the attention of the adult in the cave. “I got something to show you. I got a trace of a disruption- but it happened quickly and only once.”

“Where.” A gruff and stern voice asked.

“Around the East End.”

“I’ll let Selina know.”

“Should I get someone to look into it?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

With that, silence once again enveloped the Bat cave as Batman stepped out.

Prev; Next;

I'll be honest, I have no outline of where I want this story to go, this is just brainrot hour for me. Less go. A very high chance this will soon turn into somewhat of "yandere" but it's mostly just them being "possessive" honestly. Slooow burn. This was the last thing i had typed up, and I have no clue where I will drive this story, oops.

[michelle-is-writing]

Unsuspecting Suspect, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.2k~

In movies, the "pregnant women always have to go to the bathroom" is a popular joke to use. However, what most people don't realize is that the joke is highly played down. What you see in movies is nothing compared to what really occurs.

What really occurs is getting up from bed after only five minutes of getting comfortable to go to the bathroom for the fiftieth time that day. Not to mention you've become so used to the bathroom that you don't even have to turn the lights on or anything - you already know where everything is. Plus, if you're me, then that also means picking up your husbands lazily discarded pants that are crumpled up on the floor with his gun and all of his badges still hooked on there just so you can wash your hands.

"Spencer, I know you've worked long and hard," I start, picking up his wrinkled slacks from the bathroom floor. "But if your pregnant wife has to continue bending over and picking up your pants every time she has to use the bathroom because your daughter seems to think my bladder is a punching bag," I begin taking everything off of his belt. "Then I might just have to use you as a punching bag."

"I'm sorry!" I hear him apologize from the bedroom, an ounce of laughter behind his voice. "I forget and just leave them there - I'm sorry!" Spencer repeats himself, making me bite my lip from laughter. He has eidetic memory, and yet, he still 'forgets' his pants when he takes them off everyday he comes home from work.

Taking his badge off his belt and placing it on the counter, I begin dismantling everything else as well. The last thing to remove is his gun and holster, and with this clunky thing, I try as hard as I can to not let it make a sound as I put it on the countertop. Spencer has been very quiet for the past few minutes, and if he's fallen asleep, I don't want to accidentally wake him up.

I just hope he's not quiet because he's worrying himself sick. As of lately, he's had a stalker that the BAU can't seem to figure out who they are. They know they're male, going by the style of handwriting, and they know he has a pattern. Every Tuesday, a letter is sent to Spencer's desk at the BAU, and yet, there's never a return address or fingerprints to go off of. Today was Tuesday, and for some reason, Spencer didn't receive anything. It worried Spencer a lot, but I'm just hoping the stalker has given up; however, his previous letters show no sign of him doing this which makes this all more worrisome.

"No, no, please," I hear Spencer's voice from the bedroom once more, making my eyes go wide as I quickly catch onto the fright and panic in his tone. Who is he talking to? Especially when I've been in this bathroom no longer than five minutes, and I didn't hear a phone ring or anything.

"You are Spencer Reid," My ears catch a very unfamiliar voice, causing me to fully come to a halt with Spencer's revolver still in my hand. Who the hell is in my house? And how the hell did they get in?

Silently padding over to the bathroom doorway, I try as hard as I can to crack open the door enough to see who's in our house. As I do so, I feel my heart beat a mile a minute, and the little girl in my stomach still hasn't given up on her kicking assault. "Your birthday is October of nineteen-eighty-one. Your mother,"

The man pauses to laugh, appearing as if he were trying to mock Spencer; I take this chance to open the doorway as much as I can without alerting the man, and thankfully, it seems to be a success. "The poor old broad can't decipher through her own mind - never has been able to," The man continues. "Finally, you turn eighteen, you send her away, and you go on to live your own life in college and, soon enough, the BAU,"

Slowly peeking around the corner, I see the man talking to a very wide-awake Spencer with his gun raised at him, no mask concealing his face. Instead, his entire body is covered in black material spanning from a dark turtleneck all the way down to pitch black slacks and charcoal boots. Yet, his head and face are completely visible to anyone who sees him, and going by the fact that he's doing such a thing, he thinks he's going to get away with it and not get caught. Not on my watch.

"You've spent- no, wasted! Wasted nearly eleven years of your life on a job that prevents you from actually having a life!" At the mans words, I squint my eyes while readying Spencer's gun in my hands. "Face it, doctor Reid - you are nothing! I am smart - we are smart! But you have married yourself to your job that doesn't need you; it needs me," with that, the man pauses once again, but this time, he begins to pant, obviously worked up over what he's been saying. This guy has to be one of the most conceited guys to walk the earth.

"Now," The man states, leveling his eyesight with the gun once again. "Was there anything I missed?"

At this point, I come around the bathroom corner with Spencer's gun raised at the man. Through the sights, I see the two small pieces of metal lining up with the mans head, and in my peripherals, I see Spencer warily nod his head as he glances over me with extreme and utter nervousness.

"Uh, y-yes, actually," my husband answers, swallowing down his worry as the fate of his life rests at the tip of my fingers. Now that I think about it, if it weren't for Spencer's bad habit of leaving his pants in the middle of the bathroom floor, I wouldn't have the ability to save him right now.

Just as the man turns around, I line up the sights with his head once again as I pull the hammer back, the trigger following soon after. Watching as the man quickly goes down with no life left in him, only slight convulsions surging through him now, I slowly let my hands fall back to my side as the realization of what just occurred passes through me. I just shot someone... someone who was threatening my husband's life, but still! I've never done that before, and I never want to have to do it ever again!

Within a few moments of my eyes widening in shock, I feel Spencer take me into his arms while slowly taking the gun out of my hand and tossing it onto our bed. "You did so well, love," Spencer assures me in my ear, making me slowly sit on the ground with him as shock runs through me. I'm so stunned by what just happened that I can barely breathe. "You did good, baby, you did so good. I'm so proud of you."

Despite Spencer's words running through my head, I find myself suddenly gasping as I realize something. "Baby! The baby!" I almost shout, turning my head toward Spencer as my now free hand falls to my thirty-week old bump. "Spence, the-the noise, the noise! Could the noise have hurt her ears?"

Immediately, Spencer shakes his head before moving to place his hand on top of mine, his other hand raising at the same time to wipe away the sudden rush of tears falling down my face. "No, no, she's fine, (Y/n), she's fine," Spencer assures me, gently rubbing his thumb against my clothed belly. "The muscles and amniotic fluid protect her, so when the noise does reach her ears, it's extremely muffled," he further explains, gently taking my face into his hands to turn me toward him. "But I am going to have a medic look over you and the baby when they get here, okay?"

Keeping my eyes on his, I nod before laying my head against his chest, a small sigh falling from my lips. "He was the stalker, right?" I ask Spencer, my eyes flickering up to his face as his hand reaches down to gently card through my hair.

Spencer simply nods. "Yeah, he was," he tells me, making me shake my head. "The way he spoke, it's how he wrote his letters," Spencer further explains, "He was an obvious narcissist with a superiority complex - just like his letters."

That would explain the man's words from earlier and how selfish they all were. Although, what if the cops don't believe us and arrest me in spite of what's been going on? I know Spencer wouldn't have gotten in trouble shooting him as a BAU agent, but what about me?

"Spencer, am I going to jail?" I immediately ask, my eyes growing wide as panic sets in my chest.

"No, no, you aren't, and you need to calm down," Spencer tells me, holding my head to his chest as he kisses my temple. He's trying to comfort me while also preventing me from looking over at the dead man currently lying on our bedroom floor. "You did nothing wrong, that was self-defense, and you protected me as well as save me from the man who was going to kill me, no doubt," he points out, his voice growing softer with every word. "You're awesome, love."

In response to his comment, I find myself lightly laughing with tears rising to my eyes again. That's what I usually tell Spencer when he gets back from a case and they successfully stopped a killer. Even if the case goes awry and Spencer returns home sad or disappointed in himself, I still remind him of my usual compliment. Now, much to my disbelief, the roles have reversed and now it is me who has stopped the bad guy.

Once my breathing is slowed and my panic has settled down, Spencer helps me go back to our bathroom where he makes me stay. Without wasting anymore time, Spencer grabs his phone from his side table and dials the police before walking through the house with his gun in hand to make sure there are no other intruders. Thankfully, there isn't, and Spencer soon returns to the bathroom to take me out to the living room, getting me as far away from the dead body as he can all the while making sure I remain comfortable.

Sitting behind me on the couch, Spencer makes me lie between his legs as I rest my back against his chest, his right hand rubbing soothing circles against my bump while he uses his other to dial up his team. Thankfully, soon of them are still at the office working late when Spencer calls.

"(Y/n) shot the stalker?" I hear Derek's familiar tone over the phone as Spencer explains the situation. As he goes on, the sound of sirens in the distance slowly grow closer, and the only thing I can do is hold a hand to my swollen tummy as our little girl gives the occasional kick to my ribs.

"Yes, directly in the head," Spencer answers Derek with a quick glance over to our bedroom where the dead body remains, the spilled blood from his wound no doubt soaking into floor. I never would have listed 'blood is easier to clean up' as a pro when choosing hardwood over carpet. "She shot like a trained officer."

Spencer's comment warrants a rare chuckle from their boss. "Too bad she wasn't able to help you when you failed your shooting test and needed to retake it," Hotch's voice pipes up from the background, causing Spencer to let out a little 'hey!' in response. In light of the situation, I laugh a little at that. I can remember him calling me after failing it and I had to tell him it was okay. Of course, in his mind, it wasn't.

"I don't fail tests." I remember him telling me, making me laugh. No matter what I said, he still continued on about failing the test, unable to let it go.

"The team will be here in a few minutes, okay?" I hear him tell me, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the moment. I hadn't even realized he ended the call with his team.

Still, I nod back at him, only a few seconds passing before he's leaning over and pressing his lips against my cheek. "It'll all be okay," He assures me, making me slightly nod with another small shuddered breath. "I promise," He further assures me, sensing my anxiety. "I'd never let anything happen to my hero~"

[goldessia]

katsuki bakugo x incineration quirk!reader | mdni

sfw

bf!katsuki who fully believed opposites attract — until he met you.

bf!katsuki who instantly fell in love with you; you’re closed off personality, your tenacity, your raw power, your complete lack of interest of him — you quickly became everything for katsuki bakugo. (would never admit it, though.)

bf!katsuki who you constantly argue with — doesn’t help you both have uncontrolled tempers and stubbornness in your bones, of course.

bf!katsuki who actually values your opinion, no one else’s, even before you got together.

bf!katsuki who has an insanely obvious soft spot for you.

bf!katsuki who grew to tolerate PDA just for you. before, he refused it. that was before he saw you down because of it, and with a scoff, he takes your hand and kisses your cheek with a grumble.

class 1a who had no idea you two were dating until he did that.

“um. what the fuck was that?” “can i not kiss my girlfriend?” “SHE’S YOUR GIRLFRIEND?”

nsfw

bf!katsuki who sometimes has burn marks on his back from your quirk.

bf!katsuki who doesn’t try to hide them.

bf!katsuki who constantly ends up burning either the bed-frame or the wall when you fuck.

“katsuki, that’s the fifth one you’ve burned!” “just shut up and let me finish fucking you.”

bf!katsuki who before was basically silent during sex — nothing more than small grunts and heavy breathes.

bf!katsuki who, when he got comfortable, made the neighbours send in a noise complaint from how loud he became.

bf!katsuki who is absolutely feral. expect to see bruises in your hips, hickeys on your neck, breasts, waist—and prominent bite marks all over your collarbone. after you two start dating, you’ll definitely be wearing a lot more turtlenecks than usual.

bf!katsuki who’s favourite position is the mating press — you just look so damn beautiful when he can do whatever the fuck he wants to you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Ford wakes up in Dimension 52, hopped up on painkillers after his metal plate installation surgery, and he’s just rambling about how he misses you.

While the surgery may have been a success but Ford was feeling a sense of melancholy within his chest the second he opened his eyes.

‘Y/n?’ His voice slurred as your name was the first thing to leave his lips before realising that you weren’t by his side, the seven eyed oracle Jheselbraum was.

‘They are safe at home, safe from harm.’ She replied with all knowing certainty that still left Ford a little miffed.

‘I miss them,’ Ford began as memories of you being you flashed in the forefront of his mind, ‘they would use to wear my turtlenecks and trenchcoats, I hope they still do even if I’m too far away to see them do so.’ He chuckles halfheartedly as the ache in his chest only grew the more he reminisced. ‘The red turtleneck was their favourite and they looked really cute in it too that I just wanted to squish their cheeks and kiss them…but I’m too cowardly.’ Ford then pouts.

the pain medication was making him spill some truths of his heart that was entirely missing you and your sweet smile, your cute laughter and your well…everything! All the things he wanted to say to you, every thought he ever had about you and even his favourite things about you were coming to light in his post surgery stupor.

but regardless of what was causing Ford’s lips to have become loosened because all he wanted to talk about was you, you, and oh you!

‘Too cowardly to tell them how much I care about them, too cowardly to tell them that the moment I realised what I felt for them was beyond platonic, so much so to the point where I stayed awake at night thinking they’d hate me if I ever told them how I truly felt.’ Ford admits as he looks up to the high ceiling of the room he was slowly recovering in, only to feel the most alone he had ever felt in his entire life.

Ford swallowed thickly as his mouth seemed to keep telling Jheselbraum just how much the lack of your presence had affected him. ‘They kept me sane during times where I believed myself to have gone mad. They kept me company during my late nights of research, not once complaining about their own lack of sleep because they were too busy worrying about mine to notice the dark bags beginning to form under their eyes…but I did and I blamed myself for that.’

Ford trailed off as he distinctly remembered your look of exhaustion and the worry he felt, even now when he was god knows how many dimensions away from you he was, and the reassuring smile you’d give him when you knew he was questioning your ability to keep going.

You were far more stronger than he was but he couldn’t help but wonder how you were doing now, now that he was gone and whether or not you’ve been taking care of yourself.

‘They were the first person to hold my hand and not get scared.’ Ford said with a wide smile. ‘They didn’t care whether I had an extra finger or whatever. To them I was Ford, the loveable but sometimes Insufferable smart ass.’ Ford couldn’t help but hysterically chuckle at your nicknames for him because it was true! He was an insufferable smart ass but then remembered how you’d call him your insufferable smart ass. Your as in he was yours to call an insufferable smart ass, nobody else’s.

‘I miss them so much that I feel an ache here.’ He then sloppily points to what he thinks was his heart, however the pain meds had him pointing at his left arm unknowingly but Jheselbraum knew what he meant, you were indeed an important figure in Ford’s life that he’d find some difficulty trying to navigate a life without you in it. ‘It hurts a lot whenever I think about how much of a distance there is between us now. It hurts even more knowing that they might’ve moved on, while I still hold to hope to one day hold them in my arms once again, breathing them in and that really nice shampoo they use.’ Ford lets his arm drop to his side, eyes never once looking away from the ceiling.

‘I want to go home.’ He then said.

‘And you shall in due time.’ Jheselbraum reassures him.

‘Not to the shack,’ Ford said with a frown, ‘I meant back to them, back to y/n.’ He clarifies. ‘For they are the only home I’ll ever want to go back to.’

‘And like I said Stanford Pines, you shall in due time, but that time is not now.’ Jheselbraum says as she stands up from the chair, brushing herself down as she moves to walk out of the room to leave Ford to rest. ‘But you will see your beloved again, that is for certain.’ She adds.

‘Do you think they’ve missed me?’ Ford wonders aloud.

‘More than anything.’ Was all the oracle said before leaving the room.

A smile crept on Ford’s face as he felt himself succumbing to sleep. ‘I missed them too, more than anything…I’m coming home my dear…don’t stay up too late okay?’

[wonysugar]

g!p sugar mommy giselle🫦🫦🫦

g!p.... sugar mommy...... giselle..... ANON. holds you by the neck dearly thank you for this. also! it’s barely even mentioned at all but just know giselle is like 37ish and reader is in her mid-twenties. :]

cw : age-gap!

giselle as the sugar mommy you randomly met on your day to day minimum wage job at a fast food place MHMMM LET ME COOKKK..... having her be a regular who always comes in like once a week, always wearing something super fancy.. like a black prada trenchcoat or sometimes even a dolce & gabbana blazer. point is, she immediately stuck out like a sore thumb among the rest of the crowd.

plus, you found her undeniably gorgeous as soon as you laid eyes on her, so it's not like she'd go unnoticed otherwise, either.

she often approached you at the register and made small talk, as stupid as it often was. she'd find some stupid excuse not to use the self checkout machine and would find a lame conversation starter while you're watching her pull out a dior purse, proceeding with the payment of her order. that often lead to you asking her questions of your own.

"why do you eat here? you look like you have other.... better places to be eating at."

she'd chuckle at your words, finding them amusing, before answering in a gentle tone, "trust me, i do. my niece doesn't seem to think the same way i do, however, as she seems to really like this place. i appear to be the only one indulging her."

soon enough, you'd warm up to her with each visit of hers and the conversations would get much, much longer. so much so that, often times, your manager would have to step in and remind you to get back to work prompty. it got annoying quickly, as the conversations were just getting good; chatting about studies, travel plans, ambitions and goals, etc.

so, wanting to have these incredibly interesting exchanges in a more comfortable and relaxed setting, aeri asked for your number.

naturally.

who cares that she was like, ten years older than you. it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend… right?

numerous nights of friendly-texting-turned-flirty later, you two quickly agreed on a set date and location, which turned out to be a friday evening spent in the very expensive restaurant right across the block from your workplace. it was a date! she informed you to come in 'appropriate' attire, whatever that meant. how would you know? your closet consisted of hoodies, sweaters and some t-shirts as well as your work uniform. that being said, you showed up to the date wearing a low cute dark blue dress you found laying around in the darkest depths of your drawer for probably more than seven years. saying you were nervous would be nothing but a huge understatement.

she, on the other hand, came wearing a creamy white turtleneck under the black trench-coat she was usually seen wearing when ordering food at your job, the look topped off by wide legged black pants and really expensive looking black leather heels.

what the fuck are you doing.

getting cold feet, you nervously sat down at the table and bowed your head in her direction. intimidated by the light yet impacting amount of makeup she had on her face, you avoided eye contact as much as possible. she was breathtaking.

she told you to choose whatever you’d like on the menu and to not look at the price, as she insisted you not to worry at all about the bill. you, of course, felt guilty so you proceeded to pick the least expensive thing on the menu and attempted to convince her that you genuinely loved the dish, hence why you’d pick it among everything else.

who were you kidding though, you couldn’t even pronounce whatever fuckass french name it was that you picked to the waiter. she smiled at you as you finished ordering, making you turn red in embarrassment.

“you know y/n, i couldn’t bring myself to mention it in a place as unflattering as your workplace, no offence,” she started as you shook off the statement, practically agreeing with her before she continued, “but i must say that i think you are absolutely adorable.”

it gets to a point. and at this point you’re just short-circuiting at her words and intense eye contact, finding it difficult to even act properly in front of her!

she noticed that, of course, especially in times during the conversation where she called you endearing names such as “darling”, “love” and “honey”.

that wasn’t much different in bed, either.

as it turns out, you really did want her to fuck you at the end of the night! honestly, how could you not when she’d been opening every single door for you, insisting on paying for the entirety of the bill at the restaurant and offering to drive you home despite it only being a 10 minute walk?

she’d done nothing but drive you crazy all evening with her sexy and gentle manners, it’s only natural you gave her a sloppy handjob whilst she drove her grey lexus lx back to her own house with the pure intention of fucking the shit out of you.

…and she did! very well, at that!

two of her fingers deep into you, she circled your clit with her thumb and left gentle kisses on your jaw down to your collarbone. slow and steady pumps of the digits, she thrived in hearing your soft whimpers.

that didn’t last long, however. she was getting impatient, and her dick was aching to feel you.

ass up face down, you’re getting pounded relentlessly into the mattress before you know it. getting treated like nothing but a queen all night only to be later fucked like a depraved slut… it had to be the best thing you’d ever felt in a while. of course, you let her know of that with guttural moans that left your body with each thrust of her cock. she didn’t care, her house was big enough to muffle your screams, after all.

she whispered obscenities into your ear whilst you did so, gripping a fistful of your hair and humming at each sound that came out of your mouth. talking about how tight your cunt was for her, about how good it felt, how she couldn’t wait to use it every other day, about how she would kill to take care of a pretty little thing like you.

gripping onto your sides and ramming into you shamelessly as she drove you to your climax, you bit your lip until you felt like it was bleeding. her breathier heavier and each of her moans slightly higher than the previous, you both orgasmed together, a wave of euphoria washing over the two of you immediately.

oh and, you know what she said about ‘taking care of a pretty little thing like you?’ yeah, she meant every word.

soon enough, she’s taking you on dates every other weekend, referring you to a slightly better paying, less agonizing job thanks to the connections she possesses, sending you excessive amounts of money she labels as your ‘monthly allowance’ and overall spoiling you with whatever your heart desires. hell. she even payed your university tuition! she finds it endearing to see you always so shy and embarrassed to accept the money she gives you; you always go on about how ‘you don’t give her anything back’ and how it isn’t fair.

but to her, you do give back. your happiness and joy is what aeri does it for, and you give her great amounts of that. not only that, but you also give back by whoring yourself out and looking pretty for her. giving her unwarranted boners by sending her risky pictures and videos while she’s at work, having you wear the lingerie she buys you, knowing you use the toys she got you whenever she’s too busy to take care of you, etc. aeri could name nothing better than having you be the beautiful doll she gets to play with every now and then. :]

[kittenlittle24]

Chokehold

Request: f!reader is part of the diagnostics team and one day, they realized that one of the cases they were handling involved a physically abusive parent, which started the patient’s condition. Reader went to confront the parent, which in turn made the parent attack her, and then Dr. House saw this and came in to save her. and then some fluff? and yes, house and f!reader is secretly in love with house @schnitzelbutterfingers

a/n: I based it on s2 e13 but also changed it to fit the request better, I apologize it’s short I had a real writing block.

Btw, gifs aren’t mine! Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

“A 15-year-old model was given by her father before taking the stage at a big fashion show. After walking out, she gets into a violent confrontation with another model, then collapses on the runway.” Cameron presents.

“The tox screen shows she has been taking heroin.”

House ordered a rapid detox procedure thinking the drugs are masking another disease and that we don't have time to wait four weeks to find out. Formen and Chase explained the risks to her father, who agreed to the procedure. They put the patient into an induced coma. She later went into cardiac arrest, of course, they revived her. They explained to the father that if they bring her out of the coma before the detox is over, she will be in extreme pain.

When the girl came out of the coma, she showed signs of short-term memory loss, which House diagnosed as PTSD as the result of sexual abuse from her father.

Cameron of course went straight to Cuddy who called child services, however, you were the lucky one to be cornered by the dad.

“You called child services on me?! I do everything for her! She’s my daughter!”

Slowly you tried to walk away as you denied till your back hit the wall, then you knew you were screwed. He was so close to you, that you smelled his breath and felt his spit splattered on your face as he continued to yell, you hoped one of the nurses would come by already and call security but the next thing you knew he had his hand around your throat, grasping his wrist you tried to move it away, the tears in your eyes blocked your sight, your chest starting to hurt.

He stopped as quickly as he started and fell to the floor. Falling to your knees as well you looked up to see House standing behind him, his cane raised.

“What did you do?” You rasped out.

“He was choking you!” He argued as he helped you up and the security guards lifted the assaulting man.

He took you to his office where he examined you.

He lifted your chin gently and looked at your neck where you already started to bruise.

“Might want to wear a turtleneck,”

You nodded, “Why did you come to check on me? You were supposed to be in the clinic and you never visit patients.”

“Teen model? The perfect excuse to avoid clinic.”

Grasping his arm, “House.”

“I had a bad feeling about the dad, I had to make sure you were safe,” he whispered.

Stepping closer to him, “You were worried about me.”

He nodded once.

Stand on your tip toes, you cupped his cheeks and leaned forward, slowly placing your soft lips on his, giving him plenty of time to stop you.

Instead of stopping you, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer.