#behind some books in a lower shelf

[yourangle-yuordevil]

He was just drinking his two totally normal glasses of regular wine 🍷

[junkissed]

nightwalker

member — vampire!minghao x f reader genre — smut, a little thriller/horror/supernatural word count — 6.6k synopsis — the closing shift at the university library isn't the most exciting job in the world, but your hot colleague makes it a whole lot better. another added bonus: he's a vampire. content warnings — mentions of blood, blood drinking (from reader), biting, not really compliant with vampire lore (i made some stuff up for the sake of making it spookier so just go with it), minghao is kinda creepy but he's a nice vampire i promise smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, making out, aphrodisiac vampire venom (?), plenty of consent!! notes — inspired by the song "nightwalker" by ten! the biggest thanks ever to mars @onlymingyus for helping me brainstorm this one, from start to finish (plus @cheolism and @wonustars for fleshing out the concept with me!). i worked so so hard to get this out in time for halloween, and this is my first vampire fic so it was a challenge to get it to a place i was happy with. i hope yall enjoy, and please lmk in a reblog/comment/ask if it's something you liked or want to see more of !! :D

there are many places that are exciting at night. bars, clubs, restaurants, theaters. especially on a saturday night, the town is full of life.

the university library where you work is not one of those places.

the study rooms have long since closed; computers have been shut off and the last few students have trudged home with bags under their eyes and bags full of half-finished papers. you don't usually work this late, but you're covering the graveyard shift for jun, who has a date with his girlfriend tonight. he definitely owes you one for this, but you get overtime pay for it so does it really matter in the end?

the closing shift isn't difficult. there's a few carts of returned books that need to be shelved, but that's really all there is to it. the only downside is that there's only one person working at night, so you're alone. but then again, some people might see that as an upside. as for you, it's got both pros and cons. it's not a shift you'd go out of your way to ask for, but you don't mind it once in a while. it's usually pretty peaceful after dark, and you can put on your headphones and play your music as loud as you want.

you pick up a stack of books for the history shelf, turning one over and flipping through it mindlessly. the cover is intricately detailed with flourishing silver engraving, and you pause a second longer to stare at it before you flip it around to check the number on its side.

you start to climb up the ladder and run your finger across the spines on the shelf, stopping where there's an empty space between the books. the job isn't hard, but it is boring. counting, shelving, counting again, alphabetizing. 

there's a sharp crack against the library window and you startle, whipping your head around to check behind you. but there's nothing there. it wasn't supposed to storm today… but it's probably just the wind. or maybe a sudden thunderstorm. or, it could be the guys from theta chi again. yeah, that sounds more like it. always the college kids getting up to trouble. it is a saturday night, after all, and this close to halloween there's bound to be at least a couple people throwing ragers tonight.

whatever it is, it's probably nothing to worry about. you've already locked up the rest of the building, so it’s just you alone in here now.

you turn back to the shelf, shoving the book into place before you reach for the next. best to get this over with as quickly as possible so you can go home. 

there's another booming sound, and now you're sure it's thunder because the whole room almost seems to rumble. you startle again at the noise, but this time your foot slips off the ladder and you lose your balance. you only have a split second to brace yourself as you start to fall, but you don't hit the ground.

suddenly there's a hand on your lower back, another on your arm, and you land on somebody's chest instead. you let out a scream, your loud shriek echoing through the silence of the library, and whoever caught you sets you back down on the floor.

you look up to see who it is, and you come face to face with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. his long blond hair falls in waves at his shoulders, and his pale skin almost seems to sparkle under the overhead lights.

“you alright?” he asks calmly, breaking your trance.

you blink quickly and smooth down your shirt, trying to collect yourself. you just screamed at the top of your lungs in this poor man's face, and he's still being as polite as ever. “yeah, i'm fine, thanks to you. i'm lucky you were there.” you clear you throat and offer him a weary smile as you tell him your name. “i'm so sorry about that, by the way. and, you are…?”

“minghao,” he finishes for you. he doesn't say anything more. his tone is gentle and friendly, but there's still a sizzle of tension in the air around him that feels out of place.

you're trying to wrack your brain for information, but nothing's coming up. “you look familiar. do you work on campus? or— you're a student here?” you add the last part quickly, afraid to assume wrong. he looks young enough to be a student, but he sure doesn't seem like one. a grad student, maybe? or a phd candidate?

he nods. “department of health sciences.” he suddenly pauses, tilting his head to chuckle as if he's just thought of the funniest thing. “i'm sorry, i should've introduced myself better. you probably meet a lot of people, in a place like this.” he holds out his hand for you to shake. “dr. xu. maybe that name is a bit more recognizable. i teach classes in the fall.”

that feels a little more reassuring. and if he only teaches during the fall semester, that explains why you didn't recognize him more quickly.

you reach out to take his hand, and a shiver runs instantly through you when you feel his freezing palm against yours. the heater is running inside the building, but he just came in so maybe it's colder outside than you realize. but still, his grip feels unnaturally cold, as if he's radiating ice from the inside out.

“sorry, i'm just a little surprised. i thought i was in here alone. i swear i locked those doors…” you trail off, subconsciously glancing at the entrance. didn't you lock them? you hum quietly, trying to clear your mind. it's late, so clearly you aren't focused as much as you thought you were. “anyway. what can i help you with?”

minghao chuckles, almost sounding shy. “oh, i'm just here to return a book.” he pulls out a small, leather bound book from the pocket of his coat and hands it to you. his fingers graze against your wrist, and you have to force yourself not to wince at how cold his touch is. “working late, you know how it is.”

you scoff softly, nodding. “i sure do.” why do you suddenly feel like your tongue is in knots? “i'll check this in for you. is there anything…”

“no, that's all.” his words are short, but his tone still has that pleasant lilt to it that puts you at ease. “you've been quite helpful, i appreciate it. i'll get out of your way now.” he bows his head politely, giving you another smile. “be careful with those stairs.”

you turn around to set his book on the table behind you, letting out a chuckle as you start to reply. “i wi—”

but when you turn back around to tell him goodbye, he's already disappeared and you're standing by yourself. the library is deadly silent, not even the sound of footsteps or a door creaking. you turn again to look around for any signs of life, but the large room is completely empty.

you exhale, rubbing a hand across your forehead. the only evidence that minghao was ever there is the book still sitting on the table, looking up at you innocently, as if mocking your confusion.

whatever. all you have to do is just finish putting everything away so you can go home. it's not much longer.

by the time you collect your things and close up the library (you're sure that you did this time, double and triple checking every lock), it's well after midnight.

at this time of night the buses aren't running anymore, so you're stuck walking home. yet another reason to yell at jun later, but you probably won't. you just hope for his sake that his date had better been worth it.

you're not afraid of the dark. it's a fairly safe town, and aside from the college kids stealing each other's bikes and throwing rocks at people's windows, there's not a whole lot of crime that happens here. but still, you don't want to be the first to change that.

you stick close to the inside edge of the sidewalk, your gaze flitting around you as you hold your bag tighter to your chest. your encounter at the library has already put you on edge, making the usually peaceful night sounds feel spookier. the chirp of crickets and the distant howling of dogs (or maybe wolves?) only makes you more nervous as you pick up your pace. you're already almost halfway home. everything is fine.

a whispering sound in the dark makes you freeze, and you catch a shadow slip past the light of a street lamp on the ground. the sound seems to bounce around, unintelligible soft breaths floating around your ears. it's hard to tell if it's only in your head or not.

“hello?” you call out loudly, trying to sound brave. you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight, shining it around, but there's nothing there. probably just an animal, you tell yourself, but you know you're lying to yourself. no animal you've ever known sounds like that. the disjointed murmurs in your ears makes your skin prickle. maybe it's… fuck, you don't even know what it might be anymore. but you're getting closer now. everything is fine.

you start walking again and the whispering sound returns, and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. the street is dark and empty, not a single car in sight, not a single light turned on inside the houses you walk past. it's too quiet, eerie.

you see another shadow moving. the whispering finally fades into a clear voice, calling out your name, and it sounds uncomfortably familiar. you whip around to check behind you, but the sight of minghao makes you relax. 

you exhale slowly, almost wanting to laugh with how overwhelmed with relief you are. you're not alone. there's someone here, and it's someone you know. everything is fine.

“are you following me, or something?” you scoff jokingly, but there's a little bit of truth to your words. two coincidences in one night feels like too many, but you're still glad to see him.

minghao laughs warmly, and somehow it makes the street seem smaller. “no, i live over here. i left the lab pretty late, just had some projects to finish up before tomorrow. sorry for startling you.” he pauses, looking you up and down. “i'm assuming you live down this way, too… would you like me to walk you home? it’s not very safe being out here alone at night, especially this time of year.”

his last words seem strange to you. what’s so different about this time of year? but a sharp gust of wind whips your coat around, so you don’t really have time to dwell on it for long. 

you pull your sleeves down to cover your hands, crossing your arms tightly over your chest to keep warm. it’s not usually this chilly, but maybe it’s just because you’re not usually out this late. the whistling of the wind through the trees makes you shiver, and you get the strange feeling that something’s watching you, something just out of reach. and suddenly, minghao’s offer seems like the best thing that could’ve happened to you tonight.

“please,” you tell him with a nod. “that would be great. thank you.”

he flashes another smile, and his teeth glint in the low light of the street lamp as he moves closer to you. “it’s my pleasure.”

now that minghao’s beside you, you’re able to zone out a little as you walk back to your house. the anxious, sort of uncomfortable feeling gnawing at the back of your thoughts is still there, but you push it down. it’s just the late hour. it’s just the wind. it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, and there’s really nothing to be worried about. 

you only realize that you’ve arrived once you notice minghao stop beside you. your mind is still elsewhere, so it doesn’t occur to you until later to wonder how he knew which house to stop at. the wind has completely died down, and the silence that follows is eerie, like the calm before a storm. except there is no storm. there’s only you, and minghao, and the dead of night.

you climb the steps to your front porch and pull your mail out from the metal box on the wall, tucking it under your arm as you fumble with your keys. your hand shakes from the cold as you move to unlock the door. “do you wanna stay for drinks or something?” you say, stepping inside and looking back at him.

you swear you see something flash across his eyes, but you're probably imagining things again; it's probably from the porch light flickering again. you really need to get that lightbulb changed soon. you've been putting it off for weeks, but as long as it still keeps your front door lit, then it's a project for another day.

he gives you a closed-mouth smile, nodding. “that'd be nice.” but despite his agreement he stays rooted in his spot outside, unmoving.

you hesitate in confusion. “well… come on in,” you say after a beat, gesturing inside the house with your arm. 

he finally moves, stepping tentatively through the doorway. once he's inside you flip the latch behind him, waiting for the familiar click as you hear the deadbolt slide into place. suddenly there's a tension in the room that you hadn't noticed before, and you can feel minghao's eyes following your every move.

“do you have extra locks for your door?”

he speaks up suddenly, and you jump a little in surprise. you're not usually on edge like this, but maybe it's just the season. they do say that strange things happen around halloween, after all. and on top of that, it's a full moon tonight, too.

when you don't reply right away, minghao pauses and leans against the kitchen counter, his tone casual as if he’s discussing the weather. “i just came across an article the other day about how easy it is for people to break those locks. you can never be too prepared, especially living alone…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

you nod. you’d never mentioned living alone. but then again, that much is probably already obvious. no other cars parked in front of your house, no extra pairs of shoes in your front doorway, no lights on when you got home. “yeah.” you shift in place, trying to figure out how to bring the mood up.

“am i scaring you?” he asks, crossing his arms. his voice is gentle, but there's a hint of a smirk on his face that makes butterflies rise in your stomach.

“no.” you bite your lip. “should i be scared?”

“guess you’ll have to find out.”

you clear your throat and turn towards the counter, feeling your cheeks burn with heat. obviously he's just messing with you, and you have no reason to be this nervous. “i… i should probably just put my mail away, then i'll find us something to drink. you’re probably tired, i’ll just—”

in your haste to look busy, your hand slips and the stack of papers scatter across the floor. the edge of one of the thicker envelopes catches on your index finger, slicing through the skin, and immediately a pinprick of blood starts to seep from the cut. you jump backwards in surprise and let out a yelp, inhaling sharply as you bring your finger to your mouth out of instinct. 

when you realize what you've done, you pull your finger out of your mouth, squeezing your other hand around the wound to try and stop the bleeding. “sorry! oh my god, this is so embarrassing, i—”

but you stop when you look up and see minghao frozen in place, staring at your hand. his eyes have suddenly grown dark, a deep pitch black so that you can’t see his pupils, and his gaze is still fixed on the small smeared pool of crimson red on your fingertip. you’re about to ask him something, although you’re not sure what you mean to ask, but he speaks before you can get another word out.

“can i see?” 

his voice is like a lullaby, filling your ears like soft music, and before you can even think about what you’re doing you find yourself lifting your hand and holding it out towards him.

his eyelashes flutter as he takes your hand gingerly, his nostrils flared as he watches the blood still running down your finger. he finally breaks his concentration away from the cut, lifting his gaze to stare at you. the look in his eyes is so intense, and you swear you see his eye twitch but it could’ve just been a blink. he doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts your hand to his mouth, sliding his lips around your finger. you think you feel his teeth graze against your skin, but you probably imagined that. 

“band-aid?”

it’s not until he speaks a second later that you realize he’s taken your finger out of his mouth, and you look down at the cut. your hand feels cold and clammy, and you’re so dizzy that you have to lean against the counter so you don’t fall over. you blink and try to shake yourself out of your daze, but your body feels so heavy all of a sudden, too slow to move. even the soft kitchen light seems unnaturally bright to your eyes, and you feel lightheaded, as if all the blood in your body has rushed to the cut on your finger. “huh?”

minghao’s voice comes through clearer now, no longer the sweet melodic tone you’d heard earlier. now the sound is sharp, easily slicing through the warm fog in your mind. “do you have a band-aid?” he repeats.

you exhale, finally coming back to your senses, though your hand is still shaking in minghao’s grip. “y-yeah. the… drawer…” you manage to lift your other hand to point across the kitchen. you swallow thickly, trying to ground yourself and calm down. for some reason you feel positive he can hear your heart pounding in your throat. “there’s a box. by the silverware.”

he moves away, but you vaguely register that he still hasn’t let go of your hand. his hand is freezing, his touch ice cold against your skin, and you feel yourself shiver. the overwhelming urge to sleep overtakes you, and you let your eyes fall closed for a moment while you wait for him.

when you open your eyes again, you’re not in the kitchen anymore. you swear your eyes were only closed for a split second, no longer than a single blink, but now you’re sitting on your couch with your finger tightly wrapped in a bandage.

minghao stands in front of you, watching you closely.  “are you okay?” he asks. his voice is clear again, as casual as can be, and you almost thing you've dreamed this whole situation up. it's a better explanation, at least, than acknowledging you embarrassing yourself in front of your hot colleague.

your head feels so heavy, and you lean against the back of the couch to relieve the ache in your neck. there's a chill in your body that wasn't there before, a tingling feeling that almost borders on pleasurable, but you force it away. 

you forgot he'd even asked you a question until he lets out a sigh, running his fingers through his long hair to flip it out of his face. “i told you it's not safe to be around here at night alone.”

you frown in confusion, your head still feeling woozy. “it's only a papercut, minghao. and i'm fine, i'm not alone. there's a perfectly good doctor standing in my house right now.”

he clicks his teeth at your response, though you can't figure out what you'd said wrong. “you're a naive little thing, aren't you?” he exhales, tsking almost disapprovingly.

despite his tone, his words almost make you laugh, because suddenly everything makes sense. the shy meeting at the library, the encounter in the street, him offering to walk you home… this whole time, it's all been connected, and it took something as small as a papercut to figure it out. “are you hitting on me?”

he lets out a noise of surprise and starts to open his mouth, but you continue before he can say anything. “you could've just asked for my number, you know. i'm not taking classes at the university, so i don't think there's any rules against it.”

“trust me, i would really enjoy that; but no, that's not the reason i'm here.” he manages to get a word in, but you're not deterred. you can see it in the way he stands in front of you, eyeing you like the most delicious treat he's ever seen. you can't believe you didn't realize it sooner.

you hum, crossing your arms as you stare up at him from the couch. “but you do want to sleep with me.”

“i— maybe,” minghao huffs, but you swear you see a little bit of pink in his pale cheeks. he shifts on his feet, a timid expression on his face that seems unbefitting for a man who literally just stuck your bloodied finger in his mouth. “but—”

“aw, don't be shy.” you smile. “i won't bite. promise.”

that gets a laugh out of him. “but i might.”

“ooh, freaky.” you raise your eyebrows. you didn't strike him as the type to be into that, but maybe it's a doctor thing. and besides, who are you to judge? “are you, like, a vampire or something?”

you expect him to laugh again, but he seems unphased by your accusation, simply nodding like you'd just asked him his favorite food instead of whether or not he's a mythical undead creature. “yeah. does that frighten you?”

you shake your head, but you stop quickly when the motion makes you a little dizzy, though you can't comprehend why. “nah, i've seen worse. i had an ex-boyfriend that wanted to be my dog and let me walk him around my house on a leash, but…” you stop, realizing you're probably giving out too many details that minghao probably doesn't care about. “anyway, you already sucked on my finger, so it can't get any weirder than that. are you gonna bite my neck? because that's kinda hot.”

minghao's eyes widen, surprised by your offer, as if he's not the one who just claimed to be a vampire. he narrows his eyes and stays silent for a moment, listening for an inaudible sound. he must decide that you're being genuine, because he quickly relaxes, his lips turning up into a smile. “i… could. only if you want me to. if you'd let me.”

“i do want you to.”

he groans like that's the best idea he's ever heard in his life, and it makes you giggle. it's been too long since you've had somebody in your house who's this enthusiastic about roleplaying. maybe this is the change up you've needed in your life. it's perfectly fitting for the halloween season, too.

“are you sure?” he asks, and you suddenly realize his voice has dropped a few octaves lower. damn, he really is into this.

you pull yourself to your feet, still feeling a little lightheaded, but you're thinking clearly. you're sure of it. if you get in trouble with the university for fucking somebody who's technically your coworker, then so be it. 

“yeah. go on, bite me.”

in one swift motion minghao swoops in, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours. his hand wraps around your neck to keep you in place and he inhales sharply, his nails digging into your skin as he tightens his grip. any reservations you still had about him are gone the second you feel his teeth drag against your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily.

you whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, but a second later he pulls away and releases his hand from around your neck, leaving you gasping for breath. he moves again, casually settling himself down on the couch in the spot where you'd just been, and you watch his movements with wide eyes.

he seems refreshed just from the kiss, his eyes sparkling with a new kind of light. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs out wider as he gets comfortable. before he even says a word you feel drawn to him, immediately moving towards him as if being beckoned by an invisible force.

“come on, darling, sit. you want me to bite you?” he finally speaks up. he flashes a grin at you as you plant yourself on his lap, your knees on either side of his hips. you're expecting his body to be warm, but like when you shook his hand in the library, all you feel is cold. a shiver runs through you at the feeling, and you briefly consider getting up to turn the heater on first, but you're already melting into minghao's lap and it feels way too good to leave now when you're just getting started.

“such a pretty thing.” he brushes your hair off your neck and back behind your ear, sending another shiver down your spine at his freezing touch and his deep voice. “will you give me a little taste?” 

his tone makes you pause. you thought he'd have let up on the joke by now, but he seems completely serious to see this through. either he just really likes to roleplay, or…

thunder cracks outside, and you startle on his lap. but he just chuckles, his hand snaking around your waist to hold you tighter against him. “don't be afraid, now. the fear makes you taste so sour, and you're much too beautiful for that, my darling.” he lets out a hum, and your gaze is drawn to his eyes like a magnet. “you're safe with me. just relax and let yourself enjoy it. i promise you'll like it.”

he pauses to wait for your nod, and once you do he moves in closer, his long eyelashes fluttering as he flicks his gaze up to look at your eyes one more time. he goes completely still, inhaling like he's searching for something. but after a moment he seems satisfied with this position, and he settles his ice cold lips against the warmth of your neck.

“ready?” he murmurs against your skin, and his breath makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. it's strangely reminiscent of a chilly gust of wind, the same cold wind blowing outside your house tonight.

you nod again, suddenly feeling shy. his name is on the tip of your tongue, but it instantly dies in your throat before any sound leaves your lips, and you feel his teeth sink into your neck. you choke out a gasp, whimpering at the split second of pain that blooms under your skin but bleeds into pleasure almost as quickly as it begins.

you let out a shaky exhale, struggling to catch your breath. every muscle in your body feels paralyzed. you squeeze your hand on minghao's shoulder, your nails digging into his back as hard as you can.

your lips are parted so beautifully in euphoria, minghao thinks, and yet you don't even realize it. of course you wouldn't. you don't understand how perfect you are, how perfect you are for him. he doesn't let up, plunging his teeth deeper into your neck as he revels at the flood of arousal in your veins that melts onto his tongue like candy.

you try to suppress a moan but it falls from your lips before you can think hard enough to stop it, your hips rolling against his lap. you've never felt a rush like this before in your life. you're addicted to it. every sensation is heightened, every nerve alight with ice cold fire.

you let out a whine and then moan again, grinding your hips down on him desperately. you can vaguely register the hard, thick bulge of his length between your legs but it's the last thing on your mind right now, so focused on chasing the high that's building inside you. you can taste colors and sounds and smells, almost overwhelmed with how sensitive everything is, yet it's the best feeling you've ever had.

he pulls back from you slowly and you whimper as you feel his fangs retract from your neck, leaving you with an even colder sensation that prickles on your skin. his tongue laps at the fresh wound, but your brain can't determine whether the dripping wetness on your skin is blood or saliva. 

“more,” you gasp out once you find your voice again, still panting in exhilaration. your head is full of pressure and you feel dizzy again, even more than earlier. you have to fight to keep your head upright instead of letting it fall against his chest, the weight almost unbearable, but nothing compared to how good your body feels right now.

“no more.” minghao shakes his head firmly. his mouth is stained with blood, the dark crimson red that's blotted over his plush lips making them seem even paler in contrast. he reaches one hand up to hold the back of your neck, and instantly you feel relief from the aching heaviness of your head. “that's enough for tonight. can't let you lose any more blood, sweetheart. but thank you for the snack.”

you exhale quietly as you try to breathe naturally again, but your hips never stop moving. minghao can hear the vibrations from your heart pounding as you grind down against his lap, and it only stirs him up further. it's been a long time since he's been this excited about something other than feeding. he almost can't remember the last time he'd felt the desire to be intimate, and that only makes you seem all the more exciting. it's not what he'd been expecting when he'd offered to follow you home tonight, but this outcome is much, much better.

you're quieter than he'd thought you would be. but then again, everyone reacts differently to him. some in horror, some in shock, some in fear, some in lust. you... well, it's clear you're enjoying it. but you're too quiet. he wants to hear your beautiful screams, the desperate way your breath catches in your throat as your lungs fill with air. he wants to hear the rush of blood in your veins, tinged sweet with your arousal like sticky melted sugar. more than anything he wants to drink you up, but he can't. even if he could, he won't. a beautiful thing like you, you're the kind of meal that someone like him waits centuries for, like a perfectly aged wine savored slowly over years instead of gulped down in one sitting. he's already had a taste of you, and he's perfectly content to wait centuries more for another bite. luckily, he's a very patient man.

but you don't have the benefit of centuries of patience like he does, and he can tell. this isn't enough for you. he can smell it, he can practically taste it in the air that you're not going to get off like this, at least not without taking more from you. and he's determined not to let his appetite get the best of him, not when you're so satisfying in so many other ways. 

“you know you can do better than that, angel,” he murmurs. the nickname burns his tongue, a sharp stinging pain as it leaves his icy lips, but he doesn't care. anything he has to go through to have any part of you, even the wrath of heaven itself, is well worth it to him. all you need is a little encouragement, and he's happy to provide.

you let out a whine, your eyes meeting his dark ones as you tentatively rest your hands on his shoulders once more. he feels firm beneath your grasp, although you don't know why you were expecting him not to be. the tingling feeling in your body is starting to wear off, and he doesn't feel real. there's a fog around everything right now, hazy like walking through a dream. or maybe a nightmare. it's too hard to tell right now. maybe you'll wake up in a few hours and look back on this and laugh. maybe you fell asleep at the library and never even made it home. the only thing you know for sure is that you're never covering another night shift for jun ever again after this. or, maybe you will. actually, maybe you'll offer to cover his shifts every night, if it gives you another chance to see minghao again.

“you're thinking too hard, darling,” minghao interrupts, though you haven't spoken out loud. “i can't do anything you won't like. can't hurt you, at least not tonight. but you're too sweet to waste, anyway. i wouldn't dare spoil you.” he hums, tilting his head downward to look at you through his lashes, his eyes boring into you so intensely that you feel it in the deepest parts of your soul. 

“then, what are you going to do?” you manage breathlessly, meeting his gaze. you're so eager for more, and you're not even trying to hide it anymore. you don't think you could hide it no matter how hard you tried.

minghao hums, brushing your hair back again with his slender fingers. “mm, how about you show me where your bedroom is first, darling? then i'll tell you.”

but before you can answer he stands up and scoops you up into his arms. it seems like only a second passes before he reaches your room, depositing you on your bed with a cold gust of air.

you can't see him in the darkness, and you almost start to call out for him nervously. you've grown used to the familiar coldness of his body, and the room feels emptier without his touch. but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, the candles on your windowsill suddenly flicker to life, crackling with a small burst of flame.

“better?” minghao murmurs, appearing beside you at the edge of the bed. his figure seems to melt into the darkness, barely visible at the edges of your vision, but you know he's there.

“would be even better if you'd touch me already,” you reply, and that earns you a smirk from him.

“forgive me for giving you a chance to change your mind.” minghao huffs and rolls his eyes a little. eager may have been an understatement. 

you whine impatiently and reach out for him, but he cuts you off before you can protest. his voice grows serious, the same sharp tone he used earlier that registers so clearly in your mind. “you're allowed to say no. i'm not using any tricks on you to make you obey me. if you want to stop, then i will.”

something about his voice feels genuine, and you know he's telling the truth. “okay,” you hum softly, trying to match his serious tone. “but i'm saying yes.”

he exhales almost in exasperation, but he's smiling as he leans down over the bed to capture your lips again. his mouth is cold, but this time you're expecting it and it doesn't catch you so off guard.

you're getting used to the feeling of kissing minghao. he tastes better than anyone you've ever kissed, and it's quite easy once your brain manages to get past the initial mental barrier of holy shit you're kissing a vampire and he's really good at it.

one of his hands finds its way down your pants, and instinctively you bite down on his lip in surprise at the sudden icy sensation rubbing between your folds. but that only makes him groan and press his fingers harder against you, moving up to trace circles around your clit.

you whimper into his mouth, your hips simultaneously bucking towards him and away from him as he sinks a finger inside. the cold feeling is such a new sensation, and you clench down automatically around him.

but despite the coldness of his touch, your cheeks are burning hot, and it's getting harder and harder to catch your breath. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down closer to you, the front of his body pressed against yours, and he slides in another finger.

he almost can't believe you're real. this close to you he can hear your heartbeat thumping and he knows you're alive, the saccharine-sweet scent of your blood coursing through your veins serving only as a reminder of his own mortality. you're everything he's not: warm and alive and full of emotion, but that only makes him want you more.

the wind has picked up again, drowning out the sounds of your moans as the trees outside thud their branches against the side of the house. it only takes another moment for you to reach your peak, falling apart around him with a choked whimper. he slips his fingers halfway out before thrusting them back in, repeating the motion as he presses the heel of his palm against your clit for more stimulation.

his nostrils flare as your scent gets even more powerful, and he has to concentrate all his energy on keeping himself in check. he's never been more tempted to drink from someone in all his life. he can still taste your blood on his tongue from earlier, his mouth beginning to water at the memory, and in the back of his mind he wonders if you can taste it, too. if you were that good before, then he can only imagine how you'd taste now, with the added syrup of your arousal. you're like an ambrosia he can never have, the sweetest nectar he's ever had the pleasure of sampling. 

his resolve is crumbling, but he promised he wouldn't drink any more. it would hurt you, and it would pain him even more than it would you. if he says anything then you'd only plead for him to do more, lost in the aphrodisiac of his venom and unable to tell your own limits, so he keeps his thoughts to himself and just kisses you harder, swallowing your moans instead of your blood. maybe if he's lucky he'll get another chance to have you another day, once you've had time to rest and recover. if you're willing, he could keep this up for a while. you could be his. forever. 

your thoughts are fuzzy when he pulls away from you, keeping his fingers buried inside for a moment longer before slipping out. the candles’ flames dance wildly, casting long shadows across your walls as minghao seems to shimmer in the air beside you.

“wait,” you call out for him weakly, still catching your breath as you come down. “please.”

minghao hums, his figure solidifying on the bed above you. he slides his fingers into his mouth, slowly licking your wetness off of them with a groan before he moves to unbutton his shirt.

“oh, i'm not going anywhere.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i'm pretty new to writing non-human characters so feedback would be super appreciated, i hope you liked it <3 thanks for reading!!

if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

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[twilghtkoo]

pairings. jungkook x bookworm!reader (f)

genre/aus. fluff, established relationship

warnings. the word smut gets mentioned, jk in that fit

note. i’m a huge book lover and have been busy consuming all romance books in my free time and one part of my brain is just jungkook and another part is filled with all the romantic scenes that happen in the books i read and this idea came up :D lmk if u want more jk x bookworm!reader drabbles i actually loved writing this one so enjoy my brain rot,, likes and reblogs are appreciated ! stay safe <3

[ masterlist ]

—

“how’d you find this place, we’ve never been in this one.” jungkook notes, observes the surroundings of the small book store you both entered. floor to ceiling shelves filled with literature and writing of every genre, in different colors and sizes. warm yellow lighting from the lights in the ceiling and the battery operated candles that are placed randomly throughout the store. there’s greenery scattered along the walls and potted plants on the floor and one next to the register, creating a familiar, welcoming environment.

you can’t help but smile when you walk in. “i took a different route home from class last week and saw this place. i wanted to wait to go with you.” you answer, greeting the woman behind the counter with a soft smile.

you feel his hand blindly reach for yours from behind, you first find his pinky then interlace your fingers with his.

“it feels homey in here.” he thinks aloud, as both of you walk by a red worn out couch.

you lead him through the aisles one by one, not having any interest in the specific genres besides your favorite, but looking at the filled shelves brings you comfort.

“oh! they have comics here.” he points to the aisle across from you and now he’s taking the lead.

a comforting silence falls between you both as you skim through each shelf organized by the marvel universe, dc comics, video games and manga. from the corner of your eye, you see jungkook holding a manga in his hand.

“when was the last time you read one?”

he sighs, “i think when i was young, probably about six years ago to be honest. i don’t really have time now.” he slightly pouts at his statement.

you place your hand on his lower back before rubbing soothing circles. “i know you’ve read that one before. haikyuu,” you read the title out loud.

he nods, closing the book and placing it back with the others. “yeah i read like the first few volumes but never finished it.”

you both look throughout the manga selection some more before you manage to talk him into buying at least two volumes of jujutsu kaisen.

he holds the two books in one hand and holds your hand in his other.

you make it to the romance aisle, and immediately take your time looking around. you always feel overwhelmed in the bookstore and feel like you’re taking too long looking in just one section but jungkook always assures you to take your time and look, that he’s not in a rush.

you pick up a book and examine the cover and pages before reading the back, humming to yourself if one peaked your interest but not enough to hold onto it.

“do these have smut in them?” he blurts out next to you.

your eyes go big and you smack him on the arm. you look at the bright neon green sticky note that’s taped to the shelf with the word ‘spicy’. did they have to make it known to the world?

“would you be quiet?” you whisper-yell at him, trying to contain your laughter.

he rubs his arm where you hit him as his eyes blink innocently. liar.

he lets go of his arm and giggles, pulling you close to his side and kisses the crown of your head. “just messing with you.” he smirks.

you scoff, pushing him away lightly but failing because your boyfriend is 5’10 and muscles.

he lets you continue to look around and he does the same but not with a purpose. but he knows if he pretends to busy himself, you won’t feel rushed. and he wants you to take your time.

by the time you reached the end of the romance aisle, you’re holding two books in your hands. one hardcover and one paperback.

“that’s it? only two books you found?” jungkook stares in disbelief, his eyebrow arched.

“a hardcover is expensive.” you tell him. there were other books you found and wanted, but now that you know this place is here, you’ll stop by again one of these days after class and come back for them if they’re still here.

“babe, go get all the books you want.” he waves you off, but you stay put.

shaking your head, “no, i’ll come back for them one of these days after my classes.”

“go get them now.”

“kook, it’s okay.”

“i know it is, but i want to get them for you anyway. you got a new bookcase with more shelves and you need to fill it up.” he says, peering down at you softly but he’s not giving up.

you did get a new shelf, with your paycheck you decided to spoil yourself and get a new one that had five shelves instead of your three. you had a growing collection and you had a tower of books on your floor. you needed a proper space for them.

you bite your lip. “yeah, but i don’t want you-“

he interrupts you by placing his lips on yours, moving against your lips for only two seconds.

the kiss was so abrupt that it had you in a daze.

“go get the books, hardcover or not. i don’t care yn.” he used your name. not babe or baby.

you sigh in defeat, knowing you lost this battle. jungkook offers to hold your books and you let him, you went back for the books you wanted and carefully stacked them onto his hands. it was only ten books you found, but the stack reached to his chest and you felt bad.

“don’t give me that look, baby.” he tells you as you both make your way up to the front to pay.

the lady’s eyes go wide at the tower of books in his hands, but doesn’t say nothing and scans everything.

you inch closer to his side as the lady tells him the total and it makes you gasp. but jungkook is relaxed as the lady asks if we wanted to sign up to become a member and he doesn’t even bother to ask me as he gives her my number for the future. he finishes by tapping his card onto the machine and grabbing the two bags of books.

you thank the lady and you both leave the store. the sky now different shades of blue, orange and red.

“thank you kook, i really appreciate you.” you tell him thoughtfully, sliding your arm through his and holding onto it. he glances down at you with a soft smile, his piercings shining under the sunset.

he hums. “i love you.”

“i love you.”

[humanpurposes]

You Want This, You Need This

The only daughter of Rhaneyra Targaryen is firmly devoted to her mother's cause, and yet she finds her way through the passages of the Holdfast, to the bedchamber of a Prince she should hate // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)

Warnings: 18+, smut, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degrading, angst, Targcest (uncle and niece)

Words: 3.7k

A/n: Me making a poll then doing whatever I want 🫶

There’s no use in waiting for sleep to come to her, she’s too restless for sleep.

Her bedroom is full of alcoves and adjacent chambers, good for hiding and keeping the room cool during the summers. In one of the alcoves is a mural. If she presses a particular space on the wall with much force, she can push it to reveal an entrance into the hidden passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

Light is lost beyond the threshold. A gentle but piercing breeze washes over her, through the thin and billowing fabric of her night shift. There’s always this lingering excitement when she opens the doorway. She equates it to the thrill of flying, cutting through the wind on dragonback. Only she’s not in the sky, she’s staring into darkness, daring herself to take a single step.

As children she and her brothers had found many of these hidden doors throughout the castle, the perfect sort of places to hide in when they were in trouble, the perfect place to eavesdrop and move through the keep undetected. When their mother found out she had discouraged them from venturing too far, lest they end up like the piles of bones left by rats and other rodents that had never found their way out. 

The paths within the walls are treacherous, but she knows some of the routes by heart. She knows how to head down to the kitchens, she even knows a way which leads past the dungeons, to a chamber which houses the skull of Blaerion, the Black Dread, out to a beach along the shore of the bay, out of reach by any other means.

There is one particular room she has in mind tonight.

She treads carefully, tracing her fingertips against the wall so that she does not lose her way. When she comes to a series of steps she takes even more caution. She counts twenty steps, then turns another corner and keeps walking until the stone underneath her fingers turns to wood. It is a door, one which appears as part of a panelled wall on the other side. She pushes it open, hoping he has left the latch undone, and he has.

The room’s warmth is a welcome sensation. She makes as little noise as possible as she enters and closes the door behind her. 

He’s sitting by the fire, turned away from where she stands, head lowered slightly and his silver hair spilling down the back of his chair. She almost always finds him like this, practising one of his self righteous rituals. He reads until the hearth and the candles have burned out because it enforces his own belief that he is a more dedicated son than Aegon, more intelligent and more worthy than the Velaryons– than her and her ilk. 

His shoulders stiffen as the soles of her slippers tap delicately against the floor, moving towards his bed. She imagines him frowning, or perhaps smiling to himself as he closes the book in his lap.

She perches at the edge of the mattress, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. “That was quite the display in the training yard this morning,” she says in a clear voice.

Everything he does is agonisingly slow. He grips the arms of his chair as he rises, slots the book back onto a shelf, and finally turns to face her. He is dressed in a simple black shirt and the breeches he usually sleeps in. His hair is half tied, his leather patch secured around his head, over the space where his left eye should be, sliced out by her own brother’s hand.

The low light of the hearth casts shadows in the sharp edges of his face, the lines around his mouth, the curve of his lips, proud but restrained. His remaining eye is trained on her, glaring at her like a hunter approaches prey.

“You were there to watch your brother, I thought,” he says in that softly threatening voice of his. He comes close enough to loom over her, though just far enough that their legs do not touch. “Or did you find your eye wandering?”

Jace’s first mistake had been to go down to the yard early. Aemond was always there in the mornings after flying Vhagar, to train with Ser Criston Cole until noon. His next mistake had been to succumb to Aemond’s goading. Their uncle is never one to use violence at first, not like Aegon who would brawl with a gull if he thought it offensive enough. Aemond likes to use his words to tease and probe, to lure an opponent to action, and Jace almost always falls for it. The moment her brother had challenged Aemond to a sparring match she knew what the outcome would be. Jace was a promising fighter, but he simply could not match Aemond’s height, strength, speed or skill.

Her heart sank for her brother, but it couldn’t force her attention away from Aemond. He moved like a dancer, all fluidity and control, like he already had the entire performance planned out in his head. He toyed with Jace, kept his defence up, only to knock his sword from his hands and place his own blade at his throat in a sudden flash of silver and steel.

She’d had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smirking.

“You humiliated him, before spectators,” she says.

Aemond frowns in mock sympathy, taking her chin between his finger and his thumb to tilt her gaze up. “I would do it a hundred times over, for my own pleasure if not for anything else.”

She tilts her head. “And what of my pleasure?”

He hums cryptically. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards. “Your pleasure is only my concern within the confines of this room.”

He’s looking at her like that again, like he wants to devour her.

He traces his fingers down her throat, her collar, the neckline of her shift. His touch is sparse but familiar, exploring the curves of her body through the fabric, patterns she’s felt before, spaces he already knows and seems to have mapped in his head.

He leans in closer, his other hand pressing into the bed, invading her space, infiltrating her senses with the scent of smoke and lavender. She could drown in it, the scent of him.

She shudders as he runs his nose over her neck, following the heat of his breath with a lingering kiss against the sensitive spot of her skin. “What is it you want from me tonight?” 

She has an idea in her mind, one she’s been toying with since she had seen the look of pride in his face in the yard.

“Lie down, on your back.”

He stands straight. Eye still fixed on her, he does as she says, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

She draws out every movement, just as he likes to do to her. She straddles him, settling her hips against the growing hardness in his breeches. She rests her hands against his chest, runs her fingers over his skin and the patch of silver hair revealed when she pulls on his shirt.

His hands are on her immediately, running up her thighs, gripping at her waist, bringing up the hem of her shift and tutting as though it has caused him some personal insult in hiding her body from him. He pulls it over her head and surges up to kiss her, capturing her lips with the desperation of a man starved. His kisses are always like this, slow and consuming, pulling her in closer and closer like he expects her to try to escape, like the only air he wants exists in her lungs.

It’s fast and overwhelming, and at first she’s content to just let it happen, to let herself be carried away in the currents of his wants and not her own, but once she’s a little more settled, she pushes him back against the bed.

He stares up at her, blood rushing to his cheeks, lips parted and panting. For all the times she’s seen his stoic exterior at court, she thinks he looks best like this.

“I thought you were concerning yourself with my pleasure?” she says, not bothering to contain her smile.

“I thought you liked it when I take what I want,” he retorts.

“I want you to do as you’re told.”

He huffs a laugh, but his gaze softens and his tongue wets his lips, his eye roaming appreciatively over her bare body, until he stops at her small clothes. All it takes is a few gentle rocks of her hips before his jaw tightens and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of her waist. She swears she feels his hips twitch beneath her, but he makes no move to take what he wants.

She leans back on her haunches as she drags his breeches below his hips. By the sight of him, hard and reddened at the tip, she knows he at least finds something about this arrangement appealing. 

She discards the rest of their clothing, his shirt, her small clothes, the leather eyepatch on his head. She pauses when she reaches for it, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn’t. He gives her a small nod and she slides it up to reveal the true extent of his scar, the twisted red flesh around the sapphire wedged in his socket.

She has seen it countless times before. She needs the reminder of who he is, how much he must hate her.

Now that they are both bare she resumes her position, pleasure like a flame licking up her spine as she traces circles over her centre. Aemond grinds himself against her, breathing with a strain in the back of his throat. The sound only makes the wanting feeling in her gut tighten. She can feel herself clenching over nothing, her body begging for more friction and the release it promises.

She feels she is wet enough to take him now, and her stomach drops in anticipation.

When he whispers her name, she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

She closes her hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes and lining it up to her entrance, only to hesitate. “I hear your mother is intending to invite Borros Baratheon to court,” she says.

Aemond catches his lip between his teeth, staring at the space where their bodies almost meet if she would only lower her hips.

“Might he bring one of his comely daughters? He has four, doesn’t he?”

Aemond huffs and meets her eye. His hands are still on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles over her belly. “Where did you hear this?”

She tries to pretend such a simple touch from him does not excite her or tempt her to relent. 

Daemon has spies in the Queen’s household, not that she knows the specifics. Her mother had discussed the matter with her, expressing concern for the Hightowers’ intentions. It has been decades since a Lord of Storm’s End has stepped foot in the Red Keep, and Daemon believes their rivals are trying to close ranks, amass allies outside of the capital. Perhaps such a deal may be sealed with a marriage pact.

“What,” she breathes, trying to smile, “that his daughters are comely? I can only assume, for I’ve never met them you see–”

In the blink of an eye she’s beneath him.

Aemond brings a single finger to her lips. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss political matters in private,” he says.

“I did not realise the matter was political–”

He cuts her off when he snakes his hand down her body and pushes his thumb against her pearl. She hisses, her hips bucking to meet his touch.

“Are you trying to bait me, niece? Hmm? Is that what you came here for?”

She shakes her head as he circles over her. For such minimal effort on his part, it sparks something frustratingly bright in her, back arching, warmth settling between her legs and beneath her skin.

“Is that really what you want me to be thinking about? Wondering which one of the Baratheon girls is the prettiest?”

His fingertips tease over her entrance, but he doesn’t push them inside, instead they’re replaced by the head of his cock. She presses her lips together, determined not to make any kind of noise he could take for weakness, for wanting, but she feels it all the same.

“Presently, I’m only thinking about what I can see, and what I see is a spoiled little Princess, laid out beneath me. Poor thing, she’s trying to look smug, but I’m not sure I’m convinced, not when I’m about to fuck her tight, little cunt.” 

Her pleading is mindless, falling from her lips as effortlessly as her breath. “Please… please… please…”

She wonders if it is her want or his own he eventually succumbs to. He pushes in slowly, delighted at the slight moan he elicits from her, sharing her air as she gasps at the pleasurable ache of being stretched out around him.

“I’ve heard rumours too, that Rhaenyra has been sending ravens to Highgarden,” he says as he starts to snap his hips against hers. “What business would your mother have with the Tyrells, I wonder?”

Rhaenyra has her own plans for a marriage pact, plans she’s known about for months. “What indeed?” she says, trying to smile as he ruts into her.

Aemond almost growls, burying his face into her neck. As his voice is harsher so are his thrusts. “My sister will sell you to a sickly little boy, is that it? Why would Rhaenyra want an alliance with the Reach?”

Because the King is little more than a breathing corpse and who knows how much life he has left in him. Because eventually, he will die, and they both know what will come next.

She’s always known her part in this, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her brothers may well fight in battles to defend their mother’s claim, but wars cannot be won without the necessary support. The Reach, The Riverlands, The Vale, The North, they must all be secured one way or another.

With his face hidden from hers she allows herself to admire the way his muscles move and flex under the smooth, pale skin of his arm. Since leaving childhood behind, he seems to have this idea of efficiency, with no tolerance for excess. His arms are slight, but defined where he trains with his sword each day, where he hauls himself onto Vhagar’s saddle and steers her around Blackwater Bay.

“It’s always been expected of me,” she says, tracing her hand over his skin, almost perfect, save for a few marks: a burn after an unfortunate encounter with Vermax when he was just a hatchling, a scar above his elbow where he fell from an apple tree, and crescent shaped indents from their last tryst. “I will do my duty.”

“Duty?” He stops, grabbing her by the neck so her breath hitches in her throat. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against hers, caging her between his body and the bed. She sees nothing but a single eye and a sapphire, nothing but contempt. “You’re the antithesis of it, crawling to your uncle’s bedchamber every night, begging to be fucked.”

Anger flares in her blood. She clamps her hand around his wrist and digs her nails into his skin, hoping it will mark him. “I have never begged for you,” she spits, teeth bared, lips grazing over his, “and I never shall…”

Her words fade on her tongue when he resumes a punishing pace, urging her closer to oblivion with every thrust.

“Oh there you go,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s on his knees now, one hand still on her throat, the other on her thigh, forcing her legs further apart, fingertips pressing painfully into her flesh.

She tries to pull away from his grip, pushing herself further into the bed amongst the pillows, but Aemond has always been stubborn and does not relent. She has nowhere to go, no other option but to take it.

“You’ll be sent off to some castle in a miserable corner of the world, live the dull life of a Lady. Your Lord husband will trade swords and shields for you like a brood mare and fuck his children into your belly each night.”

She feels her peak building within her, the weightlessness rising and rising, she can hardly take much more. “Do you believe I will think of you?” she says with a grin, “as he touches me, as he spills inside me…”

Aemond grunts, folding his chest over hers, brushing his lips over her cheek as he hisses, “wanton little whore. I am the one you seek out, and as long as you do, you are mine.”

It tears through her quickly, a spark that turns to flame, a piece of kindling caught alight, pleasure that reduces her simply to feeling, warmth and the absence of his weight on her body. She claws her nails into nothing, empty space where she expects to find his skin.

Aemond has pulled away from her, groaning as he comes, spilling over her stomach and thighs. She watches him, jaw slack, brows angled like he’s in agony. 

She basks in the numbness her peak leaves behind as he drags his shirt over her skin to clean the mess he’s made with a touch that is soft and slow. His eye trails along her body to her face. She sees nothing in him, not amusement or satisfaction, not hatred or remorse, and yet he comes to lay beside her, turning her onto her side, settling against her back and putting his arms around her.

She allows it, too used to the feeling of lying in his bed, too used to the scent of sweat and smoke and lavender. 

Aemond’s chambers are ruled by order, every book has its place on a shelf, he does not leave papers, clothes or used cups of wine lying around. The bedchamber lies on the south side of the castle, with a balcony overlooking the bay where two of them used to watch the ships leaving the harbour. She likes the intricate tapestries, scenes of Valryian mythology, and his fondness for the colour blue. Even if she cannot see most of it in the dark of night, the silence and stillness is comforting.

“Lord Corlys’ ship was attacked,” she mutters, placing her hand over his, where his palm against her stomach. “We cannot be sure if he even survived.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aemond says, “I’ve also heard Vaemond Velaryon intends to challenge the succession of Driftmark, should the unthinkable be true.

“And I assume the Queen and the Hand will support him in this endeavour.”

Aemond’s chest stills. “They will hear the petitions and pass their judgement,” he says, quietly but finally.

“Then the decision has already been made.”

Aemond’s breathing is deep, her hair fluttering against her cheek as he exhales. Her mother has a similar way of scolding her without uttering a single word, as if to say the answer should be obvious.

With a scoff she pushes his hand away and drags herself out of the bed. The cold air stings her skin and she makes short work of finding her night shift, discarded on the floor, and dressing herself.

“Lucerys has no claim to Driftmark,” Aemond says from the bed.

“And why is that?” she says shortly, grabbing her shoes from the foot of the bed.

He won’t say it, but the word is there, in the way he teases Jace, the way his family watch her and her brothers and stare at them across the throne room with nothing but disgust. It’s there in his indifference towards her beyond the walls of his bedchamber, avoiding eye contact, muttering under his breath, insults and backhanded compliments. But the last time he said it, it cost him his eye.

She turns to face him, a defiant glare through the darkness now that some of the candles have started to burn out. 

“Coward,” she whispers.

He does claim to disagree.

With her shoes on, she moves towards the hidden door without sparing him another glance.

But she hears a ruffle of fabric, his feet against the floor as he follows her. His hand closes around her arm, hard enough it feels as though it might leave a bruise. He turns her into him, placing her back and his palm against the panelled wall.

“Stay,” he says.

“Surely you would not want to sully yourself, sharing your bed with a bastard.”

“But it’s different with you.”

“How? How is it different?”

He cups her face in his hands, begging her for something but never saying it. He leans in gradually, kissing her firmly. It’s easy to follow his lead, to let him slip his tongue between her lips, let him pull and tug at her delicate flesh, to feel him and lose herself to him. It makes her weightless all over again.

Once it was easy to love Aemond. They found friendship easily as children, even when they bickered and argued, because they could always forgive each other.

Some time ago she realised that love has always been destined to fade away, like summer changing into autumn, winter snows melting away with the spring. There is no place for it amongst the animosity between their families, causes they were born to, that neither of them will ever forsake.

Aemond pulls away but stays close to her, a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. “I want you to stay.”

“And what then? What do you think could ever become of us?” The one-eyed Prince and the bastard Princess.

Suddenly she hates the stillness of this room, the weight of his silence in her chest. 

Aemond’s hand slips from her cheek, his expression falling from pleading to indifference. 

She leaves him standing there, bare chested and breathless, with no light to catch in the cut edges of his sapphire. She fades back into the shadows of the passageway, amongst the cold and the dark and the bones.

The rot has set in. The King will die, and both the Blacks and the Greens will seek to claim his throne. The empty space between her and Aemond can only ever grow.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

[guilty-pleasures21]

My friend and I were talking about Jason and she said it would be cool if Jason's S/O got along with Bruce, but I honestly don't see that happening?

I can't imagine being in a relationship with Jason and at the same time thinking Bruce is a nice guy after all

What do you think?

Oh my god! I’m so excited for this! I decided to respond in the form of a story 😉.

Bruce Wayne

Warnings: brief references to loss and trauma.

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It took nine months for him to finally let you in enough for you to start falling in love with him. 

     You’d first met Jason in the library; specifically the literature section. He’d been standing by one of the shelves, quietly flipping through a copy of Jane Austen’s Emma. He’d had the build of a stereotypical jock, so you’d honestly been a little surprised to see him focusing so intently on the British classic. But those were just your own biases, so you’d quickly tossed them aside in favour of returning to your search. Halloween was coming up, which always put you in the mood for one of your favourite classics: Dracula. It was short and the unconventional style of writing was always a little jarring at first, but you absolutely loved reading about how the characters puzzled through the mystery. You’d knelt down, searching the shelf where the novel should have been sitting according to the alphabetical filing system. But it hadn’t been there. You’d frowned and tsked in irritation, then quickly snuck a glance at the man standing behind you. You’d barely caught him raising an eyebrow at you over the top of his book before he’d quickly lowered his gaze, acting as if he hadn’t even noticed you there. You’d turned back to the shelves and stood up, checking to see if someone had accidentally misplaced the book after picking it up for a quick read … There! On the top shelf! You’d stretched onto your toes, reaching for the spine, but your fingers had barely grazed the edge of the shelf. 

     “Need some help?” You’d turned to find the man’s attention fully focused on you now, his startling green eyes studying you intently. He’d lowered his book, allowing you a glimpse of his rugged features, his wide lips and his crooked nose that looked like it had been broken and reset a few times already. He’d raised an eyebrow at you and you’d realised suddenly that you’d been staring. 

     “Oh!” you’d gasped, embarrassed by your own actions. “Uh, thank you!” 

     You’d stepped aside, giving him the space to get the book for you, and you couldn’t help but notice how big he was - tall and strong and broad. He’d grabbed the book with ease and rolled his eyes at the title before handing it over to you. 

     “Excuse me?” you’d said, frowning up at him whilst cuddling the book protectively to your chest. He’d given you a once-over in response, taking in your small form, so fragile compared to him, then he’d gone back to his side of the shelf, his expression unimpressed. 

     “Nothing,” he’d drawled, opening up his book again. But the amount of sarcasm contained in that single word had only caused your anger to bubble even more. 

     “What’s wrong with Dracula?” you’d asked, a hundred different retorts coming to mind immediately. Your heart had thudded with anticipation as the adrenaline had raced through your system, your defences instinctively locking into place to shield you from whatever hatred might have been about to spew from his mouth. 

     “It’s a little cliche, isn’t it?” he’d suggested, picking up his book again. “Halloween … vampires … You in a book club or something, princess?” 

     He’d flashed you a little smirk, his expression more teasing than unkind, but the condescending nickname had raked over your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “At least his characters are more nuanced! And he develops more of a plot in these few pages than Jane Austen does in any of her hundred novels! It’s not just the same old story of two extremely unlikeable characters falling in love over and over again under a different title!” 

     Jason had flinched at your outburst, taken aback by your sudden vehemence. He’d told you later that he didn’t usually let people off so easily, but he hadn’t been able to get mad in the face of your adorableness. You’d rolled your eyes at his admission, but smiled anyway as you’d curled up into his side. It had taken about a year after meeting him before you’d finally realised the real reason he hadn’t shot back at you - the reason he’d just given you an amused smirk and asked if you’d read all of Jane Austen’s ‘hundred’ novels.

     Because he’d seen in you that same instinct - that same fear - to always be on your guard, to always be prepared for someone to attack you and know that no one would come to your defence but you. 

     And that was how you’d first become friends with Jason Peter Todd. 

It took three months after you’d admitted your feelings for him to yourself before you’d realised that he was never going to be the first one to make a move.

     You’d been sitting on his sofa, watching a movie at his place as was your weekly Friday night ritual. You’d never been able to get into Jane Austen’s books, but you’d always loved the movie versions of her stories. Jason had been sitting beside you, legs spread apart, one elbow on the armrest, his hand propping his head up as he’d focused on the movie. You’d inched closer to him at a cautious pace, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. 

     “What are you doing?” Jason had asked finally, nothing ever escaping his notice. His tone was amused - as it always was when he was with you - but it did nothing to ease the churning of your stomach as you’d gathered up your courage. You’d kept your attention fixed on the television, watching as Alicia Silverstone sat in the exact same position as you, puzzling over how to express her true feelings to Paul Rudd beside her. 

     “I like you.” A blanket of tension had smothered the room at your confession, the only sounds coming from the movie that neither of you were paying attention to anymore. Finally, unable to take it any longer, you’d paused the movie and turned to Jason, your brows furrowed in irritation. “Well?” 

     He didn’t know whether to laugh or bolt in terror. Of course you would be the only person to confess your feelings and then get mad when the other person didn’t respond. But he had that same instinct too: to take your fear and twist it into anger - to defend yourself even before the other person could think to attack.

He’d turned away from you, his leg starting to shake as he’d processed your words. He couldn’t- You couldn’t. You couldn’t like him! Not like that! You were his friend and … he couldn’t afford to f*ck up the best thing had ever happened to him in his life! Even if he’d been finding it more and more difficult to stop his gaze from lingering on your soft curves and your full lips and imagining what you would feel like pressed up against him with absolutely nothing in between your bod- No! No. It was a horrible idea. 

     He’d turned to face you, wanting to list out all the reasons he wasn’t good for you. But you’d known him for too long now and you knew by the defeated slump of his shoulders exactly what was going to come out of his mouth. 

     “Don’t!” you’d exclaimed, jumping to your knees and clamping your hands over his mouth before he could speak. His eyes had widened in surprise at your sudden movements and you’d removed your hands from his mouth, satisfied that you’d startled him enough for him to not argue with you. “I don’t want a list of bullshit reasons about why you think you’re not good enough to be in a relationship or how you think it’s going to mess up our friendship or whatever else nonsense you’ve somehow convinced yourself of over the past few years.”

     You’d rearranged yourself on his lap then, swinging your leg over both of his and sliding your arms around his neck as you’d laid your head on his shoulder. 

     “I love you, Jace,” you’d continued softly, running your fingers through his hair. “We can take it slow - we have the rest of our lives, after all - but I want to make this work. I want us … I want you. I just want you, for the rest of our lives.” 

     You’d sat there in silence for a while, letting him digest your words. And slowly, his heartbeat had slowed and his muscles had relaxed until finally, he’d let his arms come loosely around your waist. “I don’t-” 

     He’d cut himself off as his voice had cracked with emotion, and he’d tightened his grip on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’d continued to brush his hair gently, keeping your breathing steady and allowing your weight on top of him to keep him grounded. You’d seen him have panic attacks before and though he’d told you a little bit about what had caused them, he still hadn’t gone into much detail about it. All you knew was that he’d gotten beat up by a bad guy as a kid. He’d seemed horribly uncomfortable even telling you that much, so you’d never pushed him for more information. You were too good to him. 

     “I love you, Jay,” you’d repeated, holding him close to you, trying to physically transfer your love for him from your body into his. Eventually, you’d sat back and moved your hand to his cheek instead. You’d studied his features carefully: his thick eyebrows, his moss-coloured eyes, the tiny scar that cut into the corner of his upper lip … “We can … take it slow …”

     And then you were kissing, your lips brushing each other’s softly as your tongues explored one another’s mouths. You’d let him take the lead, stepping back after being the one who’d made the first move, and soon, your kisses had turned heated: his hands squeezing every curve they ran over, your fingers sneaking beneath his shirt to glide over his hard muscles, your hips moving against one another’s as you'd both started getting excited. Eventually, he’d lifted you up and walked you backwards to his bedroom, your lips never leaving the other’s as you’d pulled each other's clothes off along the way. 

     And that had been the best night of your entire life, no thanks to Jason Peter Todd. 

It took another six months after that for him to tell you the whole story of what had happened. 

     He’d sat on your sofa, leg shaking vigorously, teeth buried in his lower lip as he’d waited for you to say something. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d finally told you the whole story: the day he’d gone to the warehouse, the thrashing he’d gotten from The Joker, the trauma of having his soul forced back into his body … and then having the only person who’d saved him from the streets - who’d promised him that there was something in him worth saving - turn around and tell him that no, there really wasn’t anything in him worth saving after all. Now you understood why he found it so hard to let himself be loved by you - to believe that anyone could ever find something in him worth loving. 

     “Oh, Jay.” You’d wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close to you and murmuring into his hair over and over again that you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You loved his righteous anger and his concerned protectiveness and his unwavering sense of justice. For you, there wasn’t any part of him that wasn’t worth loving - that wasn’t worth saving. Over and over and over again. Maybe you hadn’t been there to save him then, but you were there to save him now. As many times as he needed someone to. 

Finally, he took you to meet his family. 

     You clasp the man’s hand, fixing him with a wary expression as you shake it. “Mr Wayne.” 

     “Please, call me Bruce,” he insists, fixing you with the same smile he’d probably been trained to wear as a child. You let out a noncommittal hum as your hand falls back to your side and you don’t miss the minute flicker in his expression in response to your cold demeanour. But he brushes it aside and glances over at Jason in question, waiting. 

     He’d told him a few days ago that he was planning to ask his girlfriend to come over for Thanksgiving. The rest of the family had already met you - mostly by stalking Jason and constructing elaborate situations in which they’d ‘casually’ ‘bump into’ both of you on the street or a café somewhere - and they’d all been delighted by his sweet little girlfriend who, at times, seemed to have even worse of a temper than him, but who also appeared to love him more than anything else in the world. Bruce’s heart had swelled at the thought of someone giving his son all the love he deserved - all the love he himself had failed so miserably at giving him - and he’d barely managed to keep a lid on his excitement when Jason had finally mentioned bringing you over. But he’d follow his son’s lead and do only as he said. 

     Jason shakes his head slightly, telling Bruce not to take it too personally, then he guides you to the kitchen, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Bruce waits for the rest of his kids to follow, then finally, he joins you all at the dining table. 

     The atmosphere is lively, everyone laughing and joking and sarcastically listing all the things they’re thankful for. You join in the fun, easily fitting in with the rest of his family, but there’s a moment when you pause - when your gaze lands on Bruce and you find yourself taking a moment to study his expression. 

     He hadn’t said much the entire meal, but he’d watched his family with an expression of tenderness - of disbelief - his lips curled into a soft smile as he’d surveyed his loved ones celebrating this day of thanks together. And it struck you: the familiarity of that look. 

     Because how many times had you seen it on Jason? Jason, who would watch you with that same tenderness on his face whenever you did something to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, he really was worth loving. From something as simple as calling him cute when he was annoyed with someone for deviating from his mission plan to the bigger stuff like surprising him with a tray of brownies you'd made from scratch because you knew they were his favourite. He'd spent so long being convinced that he wasn't worth loving that he still couldn't quite believe it whenever you made space for him in your life. And now here was Bruce, giving the large, boisterous family he’d so carefully cultivated the exact same look.

     The moment continues to linger in your mind as you all settle down to watch a movie, Jason's siblings arranging themselves across the various forms of furniture scattered around the room while you cuddle up with him on a loveseat by the sofa. The night soon turns into a game of who can stay awake the longest as one by one Jason's family begins dozing off, their satisfying meal coaxing them into a state of sleepiness. You yourself find it hard to keep your eyes open when you're wrapped up in your boyfriend's big, strong arms, all snuggled up against his broad chest. Eventually, Bruce forces everyone up and to their beds, making sure they're all safely tucked in before retiring to his own bedroom. 

     You lie with Jason in his bed, tickling his scalp in the way that always makes him drowsy, even when he's finding it difficult to sleep. 

     “What?” he asks finally, sensing that you're still awake. You narrow your eyes in thought, combing through all the information Jason has ever shared with you. 

     “How old was Bruce when his parents died?” You knew the story, of course - Bruce Wayne had lost his parents in a mugging incident when he'd been just a child - but you hadn't grown up in Gotham, so you weren't too sure about the details of the case. 

     “Hmm, I think he was eight,” Jason supplies, doing his best to stay focused despite your soothing touch. “Why?” 

     Eight?! That must have been horrible! “And did he … have a lot of other family to take care of him?”

     He was rich - obscenely so - and he had a house big enough to rival the President's! So of course he must have had some wealthy aunt or uncle who'd taken him in after his parents died. 

     “No,” Jason mumbles, starting to lose the battle against sleep. “He just had Alfred.”

     Your heart squeezes in your chest, hurting on behalf of the little boy who'd had to grow up almost completely alone, no parents, no siblings, no one at all who understood his circumstances and gave him a reason to keep living.

     “But … How did he keep living? In spite of it all?”

     Jason hums softly, not quite registering the question as he splays his limbs out across you. “I don't know. How do any of us?” 

     You swallow down the lump in your throat and resolve to forget about it. For now, at least.

     You wake up earlier than Jason the next morning - a rare feat, especially considering that it's almost noon - and head to the kitchen to get some coffee after taking a shower. You're surprised to find Bruce already doing the exact same thing, but he greets you with a welcoming smile. 

     “Need any help?” he asks, giving you enough space to stand in front of the machine. You study the various buttons and knobs, trying to see if you can puzzle it out yourself. But in the end, you decide that it's probably better to just let him handle it. 

     “Um, yes, please!” you agree sheepishly, stepping aside and letting him take over. “Can I just have a latte?” 

     He gets to work making you your coffee, then invites you to join him in the garden outside. You clutch your cup tightly, refusing to make it so easy for him to get into your good graces, but you join him anyway, intrigued to find out more about this man who had forsaken your precious Jason when he'd been just a child. You sit in silence for an uncomfortably long amount of time, refusing to start the conversation first. So Bruce begins. 

     “My kids have told me that they think you’re really good for Jason,” he tells you softly, gazing out at his beautifully staged garden. He turns to you and his gaze bounces between your face and the table as he continues speaking. “I’m glad … I’m glad that he’s finally found someone … who makes it easier.” 

     He chose his words carefully, unsure of how much you knew about Jason’s life, so you decided to enlighten him. “He told me … everything.”

     Bruce lifts his head and fixes you with a surprised - and wary - look. 

     “I know … about his parents and Red Hood and … and The Joker.” Your voice grows soft at the last part, your heart aching at the memory of everything he’d told you. You slide your gaze over to Bruce, who’s lowered his head at the revelation that Jason really had told you everything. You narrow your eyes at the look of shame on his face and the rage begins to take over you. “I know … what you did after he came back - or, really, what you didn’t do. Were your morals so important that you couldn’t … Didn’t you think …” 

     You clench your fists, trying to find the words to convey your emotions. Finally, you push yourself out of your seat, your features hard with the same righteous anger that Jason always wore. “I love Jason! I think he’s the most wonderful, sweetest, most caring human being I have ever known in my life! He deserves the world and everything more! And you …” 

     You dig your nails into your palms then force yourself to take a deep breath, letting the anger pass through you. 

     “I agree.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it. Then he holds your gaze and repeats the words. “I agree with you. Jason deserves everything he never thought … he was good enough for.”

     He clasps his hands together, fidgeting with his fingers as he tries to figure out how to continue. “I …”

     I was wrong? I did my best? I’d do it differently if I could go back in time and fix it? The excuses leaped to the tip of his tongue, but they were all lies. Jason Todd had always been Jason Todd, and it didn’t matter how many times he ran over the millions of different scenarios in his mind: the two of them would have always ended up in the same stalemate in the end. Because Bruce Wayne had always been Bruce Wayne too. 

     Bruce sits back and returns his gaze to his garden, serene and calm and the opposite of everything his life had ever been. “Is he still going to therapy?” 

     You grit your teeth, irritated by the sudden change of topic. But you’ve loved Jason Todd everyday for almost two years now: you knew how to look for the subtle shifts in his expression, the small ticks and habits that gave away his emotions when he was working so hard to hide them. So you don’t miss the tightness of Bruce’s jaw and the tension in his biceps and the minute shifting of his shoes as he probably wriggled his toes in them. 

     “Yes,” you sigh, sitting back down again. “He’s doing a lot better.”

     “Good.”  Bruce nods slowly. “Good. And his … Has he had any attacks recently?” 

     He turns to you, his eyes overflowing with concern, and the final remnants of your anger leave you. “He’s had a few, but they’ve been getting less over time. And he’s gotten better at dealing with them.” 

     Bruce nods again. “I’ve heard about this … tapping technique? Apparently it can help with anxiety if you tap certain places on your body? I can send you a few links if you think it might help him?” 

     And suddenly, he’s not Bruce Wayne, the untouchable billionaire with the practised smile, nor is he Batman, the sour vigilante who thinks he knows better than everyone. He was Bruce Wayne, the little boy who’d lost the most important people in his life and been forced to learn how to grow up without them. The little boy who fought so desperately every single night to make sure that no one else would ever have to go through the same things he had. The little boy who still couldn’t figure out why no one had thought that he was worth saving. Just like Jason Todd. 

     And now you understand. Bruce Wayne had never forsaken Jason Todd. He’d never abandoned him or chosen anyone else over his precious second son. He just hadn’t known how to save the little boy who’d been forced to grow up on his own, who fought every single night to make sure no other child suffered the same fate as him, who had never been able to figure out why he hadn’t been worth saving. He hadn’t known how to save himself. 

     “That’d be great,” you tell Bruce, giving him a warm smile. His lips curl at the ends in response and he sits back again, lighter now that you seemed to have forgiven him. “And Bruce? Thank you for saving Jason.” 

     Bruce lets out a self-deprecating chuckle and shakes his head in disagreement. “I didn’t-”

     “You did,” you tell him, firm in your conviction now. “You saved that little boy from a rough life on the streets. You helped him live again after he came back. You gave me the Jason Todd that I know and love today. So if you think that there’s anything I’ve done to save him, it’s only because you saved him enough first for him to get to me.” 

     Bruce stares at you for a minute, his expression unreadable. Then finally, he smiles. “You know, I guess my kids were right about you after all.” 

     And that was why you and Bruce got along so well, you would think to yourself any time Jason would ask you about it. Because Bruce Wayne had always been Bruce Wayne, but he’d done the best he could to make sure that Jason Todd always stayed Jason Todd; that no matter how hard the world shoved him to the ground, no matter how strongly he believed there was nothing in him worth loving, the world needed Jason Todd. The world needed someone who would do the right thing, even when it was difficult - especially when it was difficult. You smile and ruffle Jason’s hair. 

     “Because Bruce Wayne has always been Bruce Wayne,” you tell him in response. Jason rolls his eyes at your usual vague answer, but his lips curl at the ends like they always do. He lies down, resting his head on your lap, and you stroke his hair softly as the two of you continue watching your movie.

So yeah! Those are my thoughts 🤔😋.

[sodaabaa]

late night mischief 

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader reader gets dragged into a bit of late night mischief with the bridgerton siblings while anthony is away.

tw: slightly nsfw, spanking 

Y/N walked down the stairs of Bridgerton House, holding tightly onto the nightrobe she’d donned on her way out of her bedroom. She was having trouble sleeping due to her husband’s absence. As she walked past her husband’s study and towards the kitchen, she heard hushed whispers.

“Hush Eloise, you’ll alert the entirety of the house with your cackling!” 

“Benedict?” She muttered to herself. What could he and Eloise possibly be up to at this hour?

She pushed the door to the study open, slipping through the opening. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, laughing silently at the sight before her. Eloise, hoisted up on a ladder rummaging through one of the many shelves in the dark room. Benedict, holding onto said ladder to prevent Eloise from stumbling. 

“What on earth are you two ne'er do wells doing?” She exclaimed, turning to shut the door before anyone else could be alerted.

Eloise turned abruptly, if it weren’t for Benedict’s hold on the ladder, she would have come toppling down. She smiled sheepishly, as did Benedict.

“Y/N! My most favored sister-in-law! Should you like to join us?” Benedict said, his eyebrows raised in invitation.

Y/N hesitated. The Bridgertons always played pranks on each other, it was part of what made this family so unique. They constantly poked fun at one another unlike the typical stuffy and overly formal families of the ton, including Y/N’s own. Pranking her older siblings was something she could never even dream of doing. She had yet to join in on any of the pranks the Bridgertons carried out but she’d been witness to her husband who found himself at the center of many a prank quite often. 

“Come now, you’ve yet to give Anthony some trouble, it’s quite the thrill to see the look of disbelief on his face,” Eloise said, imitating her eldest brother’s furrowed brow. 

She huffed, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Fine. But just this once, I do not wish to make a habit of troubling my husband, your eldest brother, I should remind you. He deserves some respect, does he not?” 

Eloise and Benedict rolled their eyes in unison, “He receives plenty of respect, why do you think he’s so pompous and arrogant half the time?” Benedict replied. 

“Come, you can begin by hiding his preferred whisky behind these dusty old books,” He said, gesturing to the crystal decanter on the wooden desk.

She walked over to the shelf, removing some of the books, a light cloud of dust billowing up at the sudden disturbance. She waved a hand in front of her face, “Dusty indeed.” Benedict shrugged, “I told you.”

She reached for the crystal decanter but before she could take it, Eloise cut in.

“Wait! We should each take a drink, imagine the look of horror on Anthony’s face if he knew we’d consumed some of his prized whiskey” She stepped down from the ladder.

Benedict chuckled, amused by the idea. 

“Well then, after you, Viscountess Bridgerton” Benedict poured a drink into a glass and handed it to her. Y/N didn’t have a habit of drinking anything stronger than wine but being in cahoots with the two most mischievous Bridgertons gave her a sudden rush. She eyed the amber liquid before she took a sip, instantly regretting it. She coughed, shocked by the bitterness of the drink.

“Is this even for human consumption?” She questioned, her face scrunched in disgust.

Benedict took the glass from her hand and only shook his head as he downed the rest of her drink. He coughed once, “Leave it to our brother to drink something as bitter as he is.” 

Eloise poured herself a sip as well, throwing her head back as she quickly swallowed the drink. She winced, “Oh, that’s awful.”

The three of them giggled, the alcohol worked quickly, warming them up and lowering their inhibitions even further. If Anthony were here to see them, she could only imagine the fury. Perhaps he’d make good on his threats to take her over his knee. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. Her husband frequently threatened to spank her, ever the authoritative viscount. Anthony hated when she made belittling remarks about herself every so often or when she teased him at dinner parties to get him riled. But he hadn’t ever gone through with it. Perhaps this would be his last straw. 

As if her thoughts had summoned him, the doorknob rattled and it felt as though someone had poured ice-cold water on the three troublemakers. They scrambled to find a place to hide, Y/N quickly shoved herself under the desk, lifting her knees to her chest hoping she’d disappear. Benedict sat on the other end of the desk, resigned at his fate of being discovered. Eloise sat on the chair, a book in hand hoping it’d simply look like she was doing some late-night reading. 

The door opened, Y/N could only hear what was about to happen. Y/N said a silent prayer for sibling-in-laws. 

“What the bloody hell are you two doing in here?” Anthony asked, not angry – yet.

“Oh, brother. How nice of you to join us. Drink?” Benedict offered, trying his best to remain nonchalant. 

“That was not an answer, Benedict. What are you doing here?” He enunciated, she could hear her husband’s patience wearing thin.

“Whatever could you mean, brother? Benedict and I could not sleep so we both had the idea of coming down here to lounge about” Eloise stuttered.

Anthony huffed, “Never mind. My wife is not in our room, do the two of you buffoons happen to know where she might be?”

Shit. 

Benedict and Eloise stilled, the latter’s eyes dropping down to where Y/N hid and then back up to Anthony.

“Eloise?” Anthony said pointedly, “Is my wife under that desk?” He huffed.

Eloise let out a nervous laugh. Y/N could feel the ground shake with each step her husband took. He towered over her, his head tilted to the side, hands on either hip. 

She looked up as innocently as she could, donning a sheepish smile in hopes it might charm her husband enough to overlook their mischief.

“Hello, dear,” She said meekly. 

Anthony rolled his eyes, reaching down to grab her arm and pull her out from underneath the desk. With his hand still around her arm, he looked at his siblings. 

“Bed. Now.” 

With that, the two scurried away, leaving Y/N alone with her husband. 

Anthony let her go, reaching behind her to fill his cup with a drink. He swirled the glass, staring her down as he took a sip and then, to her utter shock, downed the entire glass at once with no indication of its bitterness. She swallowed, suddenly intimidated by the man in front of her and his tolerance of strong liquor. He turned, taking a seat in his chair, knees spread. He rested his head in one of his hands, looking at his wife in thought.

She stood before him and although he was looking up at her, Y/N felt rather small. Warmth rose to her cheeks, Anthony’s gaze was intense and there was nothing she could do to escape it. He exhaled. 

“Come here,” he motioned with a hand. She walked towards him, hesitant. He grabbed her, pulling her to stand in between his legs. His hands trailed up until they rested at her waist. Her breathing quickened in pace. 

“You’re becoming quite troublesome, Y/N, what am I to do with you?” He murmured, his hands tightening their grip on her waist.

It must have been the alcohol for she had never been one to be so forward, especially with the man before her. Despite being married for nearly a year, she still found herself timid when he gazed at her with eyes filled with desire, and hunger. 

“I recall several threats of a spanking, my lord” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Anthony’s brows raised a smile formed on his face in amusement but his eyes darkened at the challenge. In one swift motion, he pulled her down over his knees. Her torso rested on one knee while his other knee lifted over her lower body to keep her legs in place. She stumbled forward but he quickly grabbed one of her arms, pulling it behind her to keep her steady. Her other arm rested on her side, against her husband’s chest. His other hand snaked up under her robe, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. 

“Count each spank,” he commanded. His voice rumbled through Y/N’s core.

She only nodded, failing to muster the courage to speak. Her breath quickened in anticipation, suspense prickling at her skin. When she least expected it, his hand came down harshly with a loud slap. At first, she couldn’t feel the impact but mere seconds later, warmth spread across her bottom. She gasped.

“Count," he repeated.

She inhaled, “One.”

His hand came down again. 

“Two.”

Again. 

“Three.”

Y/N’s face grew warmer, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the stinging sensation. She felt electrified. Her breaths came in and out rapidly as he continued his punishment. 

She yelped, and the warm sting finally made way to a more painful sensation. Anthony stopped, assuming she’d had enough. She struggled against him, trying to wriggle her arm out of his grasp. His rough hands gently rubbed her bottom, hot from the impact. Cooing and shushing her to calm her before he released her.

“Are you alright?” He asked her softly, releasing his grip and pulling her into a straddling position. She nodded against his neck, her cheeks still warm. He pulled her back and held her face for a moment, scanning her for signs of regret or fear. She gave him a sleepy smile. When he was satisfied that she was only tired from their activities, his fingers buried themselves in her hair, gently caressing her, causing her to grow even sleepier. She hummed, enjoying the tender moment between them after days of missing her husband. 

“I must say if this is how you’d like to end nights of mischief – I might allow for more opportunities,” her husband chuckled. 

She huffed a laugh, already falling asleep against his chest to the rise and fall of his breathing. She felt him press a kiss atop her head, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch as she drifted off.

[readsaboutreid]

Fantasies (Part II) | S.R.

summary: Spencer and (Y/N) have been working back to back to back cases before finally getting a weekend off and take the opportunity to go to a local convention and have some fun cosplaying.

this is smutty smutty smut smut so 18+, minors dni please and thank you :)

contains: oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, roleplay, creampie

the first part can be found here (it's also 18+ and smut sorry but also not sorry)

also before any potential trekkies come for me yes i am aware that in the early to mid aughts Vulcan was a ridiculously hard language to learn but suspend your disbelief because the thirst for early series spencer reid is real for me okay?

any dialogue in italics is in Vulcan, any dialogue in regular text is in English :)

"You almost ready, (Y/N)," Spencer asked through the door to the bathroom, knocking lightly as he did so. "Garcia is supposed to be here in 15 minutes so we have to make sure we're ready before then."

"Almost!" She called back, "just finishing up my makeup!"

Spencer took a look in the full-body mirror that she had resting up against the wall. He decided to cosplay as a generic original series star fleet science officer to keep it simple, but (Y/N) offered to help him put on some proper prosthetics so now he's a generic Vulcan science officer (with slightly less than Vulcan hair). He gently fiddled with the ears as he looked in the mirror and then jumped slightly as he felt a pair of small arms gently wrap around his waist from behind before he heard the soft, mellifluous voice of his girlfriend from over his shoulder.

"Don't do that too much," she chided him with a good natured chuckle, "I worked hard on applying those!"

"Sorry, angel," he offered a sheepish apology (complete with embarrassed smile), before turning around to face her and gently plant a kiss on her lips. She stood on her toes and moved her arms from around his waist and wrapped them around his shoulders. His arms snaked their way around her waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth and dancing against her own.

Once they broke apart, Spencer took the chance to take in her own outfit. She looked much more convincing in her Vulcan cosplay with her dark hair styled into a perfect chin-length bob, the front of it pushed back and tucked behind her prosthetic ears, and slightly curved bangs that were just long enough to cover the fact that she very much had human eyebrows. She had also decided to go with an Original Series cosplay, wearing a short blue star fleet dress with a translucent pair of black thigh high stockings. On her feet were a pair of black knee high leather boots with a small two-inch heel.

Spencer became aware of how uncomfortably tight his pants were starting to feel and cleared his throat, looking at literally anything else (he settled on keenly observing the books on his shelf, noting to himself that he should really get around to dusting at some point). He couldn't afford to be horny if they were going to be hanging out with Garcia and her friend for the day.

"You okay, there, Spencer?" The melodic giggle snapped him back to reality, and he could feel his face burn as his cheeks blushed a bright shade of red. He was painfully cognizant of the fact that her hands were now tracing along the waistband of his black pants, immediately nullifying his efforts to decrease his arousal. Her fingertips moved lower, ghosting over the bulge in the front.

Spencer let his mouth drop open before managing to stammer out, "(Y/N), we don't have enough time to—" his voice cut out as he gasped at the sudden sensation of her small, soft fingers slipping past the waistband of his pants and briefs, gently wrapping around his throbbing member.

"Well, Dr. Reid," she began slowly stroking up and down, earning an enthusiastic grunt from Spencer. He'd never tire of hearing her call him that. "It would seem you're in no position to be going anywhere quite yet. The most logical course of action would be to relieve you before the arrival of our companions, would it not?"

Holy shit. He had fantasized about roleplaying with her like this ever since she had brought it up a few months back. His knees buckled at the thought.

A moan forced its way through his lips as his hips bucked up into her hand. "You make a very sound argument, Dr. (Y/L/N), but I don't know if we have ti—oh my god yes!" She ran her thumb over the leaking tip, and then started to sink to her knees. She planted sloppy kisses along the waistband of his pants before working the fly on the front with deft and eager fingers. As soon as his cock was freed from its constraints her lips were wrapping around the tip. His fingers quickly tangled into her hair and he had to restrain himself from pushing her down onto him further as her tongue danced and swirled across him.

Thankfully she didn't make him wait for too long, her mouth starting to slowly envelop the rest of him until he could feel the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged lightly and pulled back a little bit, bringing her hand up to wrap around the part of his shaft that didn't quit fit into her mouth and stroking it in rhythm with her bobbing head.

With a fresh burst of energy, Spencer moved his hips in time with her hand, his knees weakened by the desire coursing through his veins. He knew they didn't have much time left before Garcia and her friend arrived, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop. He was lost in a world of pure sensation, her lips, her tongue, her hand, it was almost too much for him to bear.

As she increased the pace of her movements, his breath came in shallow gasps, trying to fight the urge to shout out her name. He could feel the tension growing within him, a storm brewing deep inside him.

(Y/N)'s lips moved up and down around his shaft, her tongue dancing along the sensitive skin as she took him deeper than he thought possible. He could feel her throat constricting around him, her saliva filling his mind with the images of her lips and the sound of her moaning as she pleasured him. He couldn't imagine anything more incredible, more fulfilling, than the sensation of (Y/N)'s lips and tongue on him, wrapped around him so intimately.

(Y/N), her eyes closed in concentration, sensed that he was nearing his climax. She increased the tempo of her movements, her hand and mouth in perfect harmony, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Her eyes remained shut, fully immersed in the task at hand, completely unaware of the world outside of their bubble.

As the climax grew nearer, Spencer could feel his entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. His fingers tightened in her hair, gently urging her on as his cock throbbed with need. The room seemed to blur around them, their world shrinking down to just the two of them and the ecstasy that consumed them.

(Y/N) seemed to read his mind, picking up the pace even more as she continued to stroke his cock and suck his shaft with fervor. Her eyes remained closed, her focus completely on the task at hand. She knew that he was close, and she wanted to make sure he reached that peak of pleasure he so desperately craved. He could feel his orgasm building inside him, a storm of intensity that threatened to consume him whole.

And then, without warning, it hit him like a tidal wave. With a loud groan, Spencer's body convulsed as he released his load into (Y/N)'s mouth. She didn't hesitate, swallowing every drop, her eyes still closed as she continued to pleasure him until the very last drop.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Spencer's body shook with aftershocks, his knees weak and legs trembling as he tried to catch his breath.

(Y/N) finally pulled her mouth away with a soft pop, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she licked her lips and looked up at him sweetly, the sight making Spencer's heart race even more.

They were brought back to reality by the sound of a doorbell. (Y/N) shot to her feet and checked the mirror, attempting to straighten her hair by combing her fingers through it, before walking through the door and heading to the front door. As (Y/N) let in their friends Spencer could hear Penelope from the living room as she began laughing and said, "girl whatever you two were doing has left your hair a wreck!"

Spencer and (Y/N) sat at a small table with their giant soft pretzels, Garcia and her friend having wandered off to watch a panel. They both sat at the table, their feet aching slightly from walking around in the convention center. Spencer's pretzel sat forgotten in front of him, all of his focus on his girlfriend sitting across from him. Her face was slightly flushed from the warmth in the convention center, the heat from the crowds easily overpowering the AC running in the building. His eyes roamed from her cheeks to her breasts, straining against the fabric of her dress.

"Spencer?" (Y/N) waved a hand in front of his face, "anybody in there?" She gave another one of her trilling giggles and Spencer felt a small smile spread across his lips involuntarily at the sound. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers and his smile turned into a sheepish grin at the loving yet exasperated look she was giving him.

"Sorry, heh," Spencer chuckled nervously as his face burned with embarrassment at being caught blatantly ogling her chest in public.

She muttered as she shook her head. It took Spencer a second to realize why he couldn't figure it out until he asked her to repeat herself. "I said, 'men at conventions are all the same,' you silly, silly man," she smirked at him. His eyes went wide as she spoke Vulcan as fluently as any other language, and his heart skipped a beat. He was sure he'd lose consciousness with how quickly the blood rushed from his brain to his dick.

"Y-you speak Vulcan?" He responded, also speaking Vulcan, trying to hide his growing erection by crossing his legs.

A wicked grin spread across her lips. She took note of his shifting posture and his flushing face as she responded, "is there a problem, doctor? You're flushed and sweating."

"Have you finished your food?" Was his only response as he began gathering up his own trash and standing up. His breathing was slightly uneven and when he finally looked at her and met her eyes, she saw the raw need emanating from them.

Spencer could see her piece together what was going through his head and noticed as her smile took on a nearly feline quality. "Doctor, are you suffering from the Blood Fever?" She crooned as she, too, began gathering up her trash and belongings. Her movements were slow and leisurely, and as she stood she remarked in English that she should probably shoot a text to Garcia that they were headed out for the day. He stood by the table and leaned against it, casually slipping his hands into his pocket so he could adjust himself in his pants to conceal his raging boner.

She moved to stand a couple inches in front of him and looked up at him through her eyelashes and flashed him an innocent glance and a not-so-innocent smile. He throbbed in his pants and she reached for his hand and began leading him towards the exit.

The cab ride back to his apartment had been torture, to say the least. Spencer's cocked throbbed and ached the entire way and (Y/N) did nothing to help the situation, whispering things into his ear in Vulcan that he had never dreamt of anyone ever actually using the language to say while tracing lazy circles on his chest with her fingers.

He all but sprinted up the steps while pulling her by the hand behind him. He fumbled and dropped his keys as he attempted to unlock the door but quickly managed to get the door open and as soon as they were both inside his lips found hers. He kicked the door shut and began guiding her towards his bedroom while his hands found her waist. As they entered the room he tore his lips from hers and took the chance to take her in. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips were swollen and parted slightly, and her cheeks were flushed as she panted lightly.

His lips found hers again as he slowly began to guide her towards the bed, gently laying her down on the bed and crawling on top of her. His hips rested between her open thighs and his cock pressed up against her clothed pussy. He ground himself against her and both of them moaned at the friction.

"What of the Ritual, doctor?" She smirked up at him as he began trailing his kisses from her lips to her chin, then down to her neck. He bit down on a sensitive spot gently before soothing it with his tongue, earning a gasp from (Y/N) as her back arced off the bed.

"Forget the Ritual, I need to take you now," he moaned as he ground against her harder before pulling back to unfasten the button of his pants, followed by the zipper. He pushed his pants and briefs down just far enough to free his cock and hissed as the cool air of his room met with the aching flesh. When he looked back down at (Y/N) he noticed she had taken to opportunity to remove her own underwear and wasted no further time as he pressed himself back into her, groaning at the slickness that awaited him.

He positioned his cock at the entrance to her dripping cunt, nudging up against her gently. She whimpered and bucked her hips up, trying to push him into her. He began slowly pushing into her, inch by throbbing inch, until he was buried all the way into her. They both let out long, drawn out sounds of pure ecstasy. Spencer pulled out a couple inches and then pushed back in as (Y/N) hooked her ankles together behind him, her heels pressing into him. He maintained this pace as he leaned onto one arm, freeing up his other hand to reach in between them and start teasing her clit, pressing feverish kisses into her neck while he gently fucked her.

She moved her hips against his, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she panted and mewled underneath him. "How does it feel, (Y/N)?" He crooned into her ear, his breathing becoming ragged. He sped up his hips, earning a loud moan in response. "Come on, (Y/N), use your words."

"Harder, please," she whimpered, throwing her head back and crying out in pleasure as he obliged. He reared up above her, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut as he felt himself racing towards his own climax. He opened his eyes right as she reached her hand between them to take over rubbing little circles onto her clit and nearly lost himself in the sight. Her dress was pushed up over her hips, her eyes fluttering back into her head, and her face and neck flushed a deep scarlet. His breathing grew rougher and more ragged and his thrusts became disjointed as he moaned louder and louder.

"Yes, please fill me doctor!" She cried, and Spencer roared in response, throwing his head back and stilling his hips as he came. (Y/N)'s own orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, ripping through her body and making her pull him into her, melting into a single being of tangled limbs and desperate moans.

He panted above her, resting his forehead against her neck as he slowly pulled out of her and collapsed next to her on the bed. He turned to reach for the box of tissues he kept on his nightstand, cleaning himself up and handing allowing (Y/N) to clean herself up as well, before pulling his pants back up and pulling her into him, laying her head against his chest.

"We have to do this again," she giggled sleepily, rubbing lazy circles into his chest with her fingers. He nodded and kissed the top of her head, his eyelids heavy.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he mumbled as sleep finally began to take hold of him.

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Two

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Suggestive themes, mention of rape, female masturbation, second hand embarrassment

Masterlist

You looked at the dishes piled up in the sink, a wave of nausea hitting you. A part of you was glad, comforted by the idea of having humans around yet you couldn’t shake the substantial feeling of dread.

What if they killed you? Or raped you? Or both? What would happen to your body? Would you turn? Would you just decompose and hopefully move onto a better place? Your mind thumped against the thick walls of your skull before you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. A hand clamped your shoulder.

“You ‘lright?” Price said, a comforting smile adorned on his face before you shrugged his hand off.

“Just fine,” you reply, a tight smile on your face, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.” They followed you upstairs, the pounding of their boots against the floor giving you a headache. You led them to a bedroom, the subtle smell of dust lingering as you took in the unused space. There was a double bed, a mint green quilt with pink roses adorning it, two pillows both placed neatly on either side. “You can figure out who goes where,” you say, pushing the door open from across the hall.

You walk into the second guest room, a queen sized bed splat in the middle, a dark blue quilt tucked in, a row of grey pillows furnishing the top. “There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. The plumbing still works somehow but don’t over-flush. You can have a shower but the water will be cold,” you say, attempting to sound intimidating as you avert your gaze.

“Thank you,” Price smiled, stepping inside the room.

Gaz and Soap offered you a squeeze on the shoulder quickly, a polite thank you leaving their mouth. Ghost however, sorted just stared at you, blinking slowly before turning towards the first room.

You find yourself thinking as you brushed Cecil, his grey fur shedding quickly as you stroked his behind, whispering small praises towards the large animal.

What if you tell them to leave and they don’t? What if they take over your house and kick you out? What if-

You stop yourself, rubbing your head in your hands as you lead the horses back to the barn, preparing dinner for the other animals before locking the door securely. You finished up outside, ensuring the crops were well watered before heading up the porch steps and through the back door.

Gaz was sat on the couch, a book in his hands as he looked up. “I hope you don’t mind, found it on the shelf.”

You kept your face straight but nodded, “It’s fine.” Truth be told, it was as comforting to have people around, the same as it was fearful. You knew that if they tried anything, they would win, no matter what gun you hold.

Time seems to be going quicker as you prepare a salad with some grown vegetables with bread. You were glad that your father was a chef, always teaching you how to make things from scratch. You didn’t like to dwell, hoping that somehow your family were immune too. Maybe one day, you would see them again. Maybe.

You placed the loaf of dough inside a tray before lighting the woodburner and placing it inside. You hummed softly to yourself as you heard footsteps against the wooden stairs. “Feeding us again, bonnie?”

“Only if it’ll get you guys to leave me alone,” you reply, not bothering to look at him. You hear his tongue click softly as he shuffles over to you.

“Y’ need help?”

You lowered the knife, gesturing for him to take over as you step outside, sitting on the old porch chair as you tuck your legs up, arms holding them in place as you stare out, the hues of the sun disappearing as the night begins to consume it.

As night falls, you head inside, hands reaching into the burner to grab the bread as you let it cool. You looked at the large bowl of vegetables tossed together, the men gathered around the never-used dining table, chattering amongst each other.

You let them sit for a while before calling out. It was entertaining watching the four grown men subtly walk faster than the other to get a plate first. You cut the bread, steam gauging out of each slice before you sat down at the dining table, fingers nervously fiddling with the metal cutlery.

They sat down around you, looking at you occasionally as you ate. “Listen, we do appreciate-“ Price began before you cut him off.

“You’ve told me. You can stay for the night but you’re off tomorrow. I prefer living alone.”

Price nods as the others look down, the sound of lettuce and carrot crunching filling the awkward void. As they finished up, you locked the doors and shut the blinds, the gentle hum of the fire comforting you before you head upstairs.

Your eyes flicker between pages of a book as you nestle in bed. You were clad in a sheer nightgown, your usual pyjama set hanging to dry outside. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read. While cliche, for a while everything felt normal when absorbing yourself between lines of paper, like you were simply escaping reality.

A gentle knock sounded on your door as you looked up. Price stood there, gentle smile on his face as he asked to come in.

“What is it?” You answered.

“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. Even if it was just for a day, it’s helped us a lot. Not many people, especially a woman alone, would let four men into her home… not during a time like this.”

Your body tensed for a second before it relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, placing the book on the side as you stood up to look at him closer. There was no use in lying, he was very attractive. His stern looking face covered with a bushy beard and moustache, blue eyes staring intensely under thick brows. He was older, the evidence of faint wrinkles indented on his forehead, yet his body was still in shape.

You were never a prude, but also never pushed for unnecessary encounters with the opposite sex. You weren’t an ugly girl, your features working well together, especially when you weren’t scowling.

“I-“ you begin, trying to think of what to say, “I appreciate you saying that. You guys are the first… real people I’ve come across since this all began. I know how difficult it is. And I suppose it wasn’t bad to reencounter civilisation.”

Price lets out a shallow laugh, hand coming up to squeeze at your shoulder as he looks at you. You don’t shrug him away this time, allowing the grip to scold your skin with prickling heat. You didn’t speak, simply watching him back through hooded lashes.

You felt your nipples pebble, the cold air brushing through as you remembered the warmth of your bed. You watch his gaze flicker down to your chest, sucking in a silent breath before he looked back up at you.

Had it been 296 days for him too without a woman? Had it been 296 days for all of them without a woman?

You didn’t shy away from his gaze, heat spreading across your body as you felt the timid intimidation of a low throb in your pussy. You offered him a small smile before gripping the door. “Goodnight, John.”

“Night, love.”

You felt like a fucking teenager, with your gown bunched up at your waist, hands timorous as they softly rolled the sensitive bud in a circular motion, gentle pants spilling from your lips. Everything felt more real, more heightened, probably from the lack of touching down there for months.

Dipping your fingers into your slit, legs spread and needy, you could feel the antagonising slick tease your hole, pooling at the crevice of your ass. This wet over a random man? You should feel ashamed, should, but you don’t. The light sound of squelching lit your room as you plunged a desperate finger into your heat, a rough gasp leaving your throat as you lie back further.

You tease yourself, left hand reaching down to entertain your neglected clit as another finger braced your entrance. Did it always feel like this? Did my fingers always not feel like enough? Like they needed something more?

A wanton moan stained the room as you thrashed your head against the pillow, sticky fingers just reaching that gooey spot inside you, swift thrusts causing your eyes to roll back.

You felt like a virgin again, pussy barely able to take two fingers and minimal thrusts before the coil in your stomach began to form.

Would it be so bad to call him in? Soak his beard in your cunt? Feel what it’s like to take two fingers properly? Maybe more?

You felt like you had a balloon growing inside you, every swift movement expanding it more, ready to pop, ready to let your body release, ready to feel satisfi-

“F’cking hell-“

You looked at the sudden burst of sound, eyes darting over to your least favourite in the house, visible crinkles in his dirty mask. His eyes visibly darting to your heat, taking in your fingers stuffed inside, the slickness coating them.

You squealed, orgasm barely washing over you as you twitched, pulling your fingers out abruptly and straightening your nightgown.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screeched, voice cracking as you wobbled to the door and slammed it shut, body leaning against it as you panted. You stilled, listening to hear his footsteps walk over but the comforting sound never came.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Can you do like a teen hades x reader? Like, can you do something like he has a crush on reader for a while but he doesn't know how to express it?

Sorry if it's bad! This is my first request I've ever done 😅

Unspoken Love | Hades

Pairing: (teen!)Hades x fem!reader

Summary: Hades has been in love with you for a while now, but doesn't truly know how to express it.

Warning/s: fluff, very short fic, reader is considered to be blonde and shorter than Hades, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Here you go, you did amazing with the request, don't worry. Enjoy!

It was so infuriating.

Hades was amongst Uliana's crew when she was treating Bridget. Once again. He was just standing aside, listening to Uliana's threatening as his eyes finally landed on you.

You were a new friend of Bridget's.

Somehow, someway, he found himself staring at you. Your blonde hair was gently flowing as the wind carried it around you. Your eyes, oh, your eyes. They were sparkling with determination as you stared at Uliana's as you stood by Bridget's side. Your soft lips that had somehow frowned along with your eyebrows as you listened to Uliana's speech.

He felt like you were some sort of angel. He had never seen you at the Merlin's Academy before today so that means that you were probably new here. And yet you already befriend Bridget, he thought, finding himself slightly disappointed.

He couldn't deny that he found himself drawn to you in many ways, but your friendship with Bridget was bad news to him. That meant that you were probably a lot like her or even exactly like her.

That meant that you would probably hate his guts, considering the fact that he's a part of Uliana's crew. But also, he had no idea why you had such a strong effect on him. He just saw you! He doesn't even know who you are!

But, Gods... he found himself loving the idea of finding out.

°

As days rolled by and as he saw more of your interactions with people and also with him, he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

Your courage, strength, and determination when you stood up to Uliana's bullying.

Your beauty that shined everywhere you went.

Your height that seemed to cause you difficulties every time you tried to reach the books on the highest shelves in the library of the Merlin's Academy.

Your willingness to give help to someone, but also take help from someone when you needed it.

Your ability to not judge anyone before you meet them and giving them opportunity to help you out. Even if it's a villain.

That's how the two of you officially met.

You were in the library of the Merlin's Academy, trying to reach one of the books on the highest shelf, but with no success. Your height was getting in the way. Only your fingers were able to brush against the shelf, but a shelf that was lower than the highest one. You were growing frustrated until you heard the voice behind you.

"Need some help, shortie?" Hades' smug smile was glaring at you as he leaned against the opposite bookshelfs.

"What are you doing here?" You asked him, your voice teasing. "I thought that you would rather die then spend time in here."

"Touché," He pointed as he found himself amused, "However, Morgie forced me to go get some books for him."

"Oh, well," you smiled slightly, "Would you look at that."

A few moments later, when he saw that you were still struggling, he was brave enough to offer you help, and you were brave enough to take it.

Later in the future, there was no way he would admit out loud why he offered to help you. Maybe it was the trouble you were in, maybe it was your helplessness in that simple situation, but when someone from the crew asked him why did he help you, he won't admit that he fell in love with you.

He didn't even admit it to you, even though he really wants to.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@xoxo-h3arts @i-am-fork @a-homosexual-homosapien @snixx2088 @heartsfromcoco @hiireadstuff @cyb3r-st4r @angeliangelo @judgment-days-kid @mitsiell @ratchetprime211 @milo-webp @teti-menchon0604 @pvmkyn-sp1c3 @mystic-mae @leftmooncollector

[thewidowsledger]

Good Luck, Babe

Chapter 2: Debt

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: The once secret, a forbidden love hidden from the world. Those stolen moments together had been thrilling, but ultimately, drove the person you trully love away from you. But when she left, she didn't just leave you; she also left you a part of herself that would constantly remind you of her for the rest of your life. This fragment of her essence became an indelible mark on your soul, shaping the course of your life in ways you never could have imagined.

You know what they say, when someone leaves, someone else will come.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Tags | Warnings: this is going to be a ride, ANGST, little fluff, custody battle, Natasha being a bitch (?) forced marriage

Author's Note: I know I promised a Wanda fic but I need to post this first…

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

3 years later…

Late one evening, Natasha found herself wandering the aisles of a quiet, upscale grocery store. Gone were the power suits and sky-high heels; tonight, she was clad in a simple hoodie and jeans, her hair hidden beneath a baseball cap.

She had booked a small, cozy airbnb for a week, craving solitude and anonymity during her brief vacation. As a wealthy businesswoman, she could afford any luxury, but tonight, she sought the comfort of anonymity. The store's peaceful atmosphere and lack of familiar faces provided the perfect refuge from her hectic life.

Unfortunately for Natasha, her younger sister, Yelena, possessed an uncanny talent for tracking her down. Two days into her secret vacation, Yelena appeared just outside the door of her small airbnb.

Natasha's journey to becoming a successful businesswoman began unexpectedly. As the lead guitarist of the college band, her passion for music was unwavering. However, fate intervened when her father, the CEO of a multinational corporation, suddenly passed away, leaving her in charge of the family business.

And of course, her dreams about music were all forgotten as she threw herself into learning the intricacies of the business world—her only way to cope after you.

“Hey, Nat! I’ll go get some toiletries.”

“Okay, I’ll get my yogurt.”

Natasha strode towards the dairy section, her eyes scanning the shelves for her favorite indulgence. She loved yogurt, but there was only one brand that truly satisfied her discerning palate. To her dismay, the shelf was bare, but there was still one remaining tub of the creamy, tangy delight.

Just as Natasha's fingers closed around the last tub of her favorite yogurt, a sudden, lightning-fast movement from behind startled her. Before she could react, a small, eager hand darted out and snatched the yogurt away, leaving her empty-handed.

When Natasha knelt down to the culprit's eye level, the small girl took a step back, suddenly looking uncertain. The yogurt was still clutched tightly in her small hands. The little girl tilted her head to the side, her innocent, wide-eyed gaze fixed on Natasha. Her long lashes cast shadows on her rosy cheeks as she blinked curiously, taking in the woman kneeling before her.

Without warning, the little girl eagerly toddled forward and threw her arms around Natasha's neck, burying her face in the crook of her arm. Caught off guard, Natasha hesitantly returned the hug.

“Mama,” the small girl whined.

“Oh sh—gosh, I'm so sorry about her! She's just a little rascal when she's excited!” A teen boy hastily approached, tugging gently on the girl’s arm. “Come on, Liah, leave the nice lady alone.”

The young girl hesitantly allowed herself to be pulled away from who she thought was her mama by the boy. She looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, her lower lip trembling slightly.

“Sorry, miss,” the teen mumbled, keeping a firm but gentle grip on the little girl’s hand.

The teen paused, his brow furrowing as he stared at Natasha. “Wow, this is a bit awkward. You look exactly like...Liah.” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Liah?” Natasha echoed, taken aback. She glanced at the little girl, who was now timidly clutching the boy’s hand. “Is that her name?” The boy nodded, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Yeah, Aliah, can you introduce and apologize to the lady right here?” The teen encouraged gently. The girl eagerly complied, turning to Natasha with innocent eager eyes.

“Awiah, mama, I Awiah mama…” she introduced herself, holding out the tub of yogurt, Natasha bit her inner lip, her heart aching as she looked at the little girl who is calling her mama.

“Hi I—”

“Liah, she’s not mama okay? Mommy is waiting for us outside.” The teen interjected quickly, giving Natasha an apologetic look and not letting her introduce herself. “I am really sorry miss, we’re gonna go now.”

Just as the two left, Yelena appeared at her side. She glanced down at her sister’s lost reaction. Suddenly, a curious expression crossed her features.

“That kid looks a lot like you.” She casually said as she hugged the rolls of toilet papers.

“You saw?” Natasha asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “The whole thing, I mean.” Yelena nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. “Yeah, Nat. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, let's checkout now,” Natasha dismissed and started walking to the cashier.

“Hey! Did you get your yogurt?” Yelena asked as she walked behind her sister.

“The kid got it, but it’s fine,” the redhead said quietly, trying to brush off the situation and avoid discussing it further.

⧗

“Hey, did you two get my tub?” you called out. To your surprise, both Billy and your daughter took off running towards you.

“Yes!” the boy shouted back, and your daughter lifted the tub of yogurt triumphantly as they neared your car. “We got it!”

You grinned widely, feeling relieved and appreciative. As the two reached you, you scooped Aliah into your arms, her tiny body warming against your chest. She eagerly showed you the yogurt, her eyes sparkling with joy. “You got it! Thank you so much, sweetie,” You cooed, giving her a gentle squeeze before addressing the teen. “And thank you too. I really appreciate it. Let’s go home?” You set Aliah down gently, and she clung to your leg, peeking out shyly at the boy.

You load the groceries into the backseat of the car, then secure Liah in her booster seat. While Billy sat beside her. Once everything is settled, you slide into the driver's seat and turn the ignition, starting the car and beginning your journey home.

“You guys took long,” you commented as you drove.

“Oh yeah, we stumbled into this lady who looked exactly like Liah,” Billy giggled, glancing back at the car seat where Aliah sat. Your daughter was looking through the windows as if she was deep in thought.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and Liah actually called her mama,” Billy continued, laughing heartily. “It’s so funny. The lady looked really surprised, though.” You felt a surge of curiosity, your grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

“Oh, that's...interesting,” you said awkwardly as you continued to drive with a feeling of unease.

Three years, three years had passed when you called the engagement off with Steve, not being able to bear the things you did behind his back throughout your relationship. Besides, he immediately picked up on your daughter’s features that she wasn’t his, he’s a celibate for fuck’s sake.

But he made sure you pay for everything you have done. He used his connections and influence to make sure you were passed over for the coveted law school you had poured your heart into getting into. He ensured your applications for every job you're going to get into were rejected. But his wrath didn't stop at your plans and dreams after you graduated. Steve came up to your mother, laying bare the truth of your infidelity and the circumstances surrounding your daughter's birth. And he made sure that your own mother would turn her back on you, disown you and cut off all contact with you—and she did.

In the last three years since everything happened, you had poured all your love and energy into raising your daughter, Liah. She’s three now, she is a vibrant ray of sunshine in your life. Her infectious laughter and innocent hugs helped soothe the ache of lost dreams and shattered relationships.

So you made sure to shower her with love, provide a secure and nurturing home. You are determined to ensure that she never feels the absence that plagues you, that your love is enough. You would go to great lengths to fill the void, never wanting her to suffer any absences in her life.

You had to start over because your reputation had already been irreparably damaged. You never blamed Steve for what he did, even though he had gone out of his way to deliberately ruin your life, you can't help but solely blame yourself for the situation. The guilt and self-reproach weigh heavily on you, blaming only yourself for the consequences of your own choices and actions.

Only if you weren’t a coward.

In a bid to start anew, you made a bold decision to move states, trading the life you knew for a fresh start. From being a once-admired student, you started as a cashier in a small grocery store, earning just enough to provide for your daughter. It’s a stark contrast to your former life, but your daughter’s well-being is your top priority, making your humble job a small sacrifice for her happiness and future.

Over time, through your hard work and perseverance, you have regained your footing, making commissions as an advertising sales agent. What you do right now is far from what you graduated but it no longer matters to you, each day, you strive to climb to the top, motivated by the desire to give your daughter a life you couldn't give yourself, not only planning to make it to law school again but making a new name for yourself to erase the mistakes of your past.

Make it to those people you owe. And there is one particular person you owe the most.

“Y/N, I can walk from my house since it's on the way.” You blinked rapidly, you shook your head to clear your thoughts and pulled over to the side of the road.

“Are you sure? I can drive you door-to-door Billy, I don't want you momma worrying.”

“Don't worry, I got it from here plus princess here looks really tired.” He poked the cheek of your daughter who is still looking at the window of the car, deep in thoughts like you awhile ago.

“Well, okay then. Same time tomorrow?” You asked, your eyes never leaving your daughter's as you look at her through the rearview mirror.

Billy grinned, “Of course, Y/N. You know I love spending time with your little munchkin. Where are you off to anyway?” He zipped up his coat, preparing to exit the car.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Work's been piling on more responsibilities lately. It's requiring me more time at work.” You gave him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Billy. You're a lifesaver.”

You reached into your purse and pulled out an envelope containing the babysitting fee. “Here you go,” you said, handing it to him. “She needs to be picked up 3 hours early since their teacher said it's a shortened period for their class. So…it's not the same time for tomorrow.”

He noticed the worn edges of your wallet peeking out from your purse and the slight hesitation in your voice when you mentioned the time. “You know, Y/N, it's okay if you can't pay me this time, consider it a favor, no payment needed.” You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by the kid’s gesture.

“Billy, no, I can't ask you to do that for free,” you insisted, a hint of guilt in your voice. “I was supposed to go home an hour early today, but then work piled on more tasks, and now I'm late again…and so is my commission pay.”

The kid held up a hand, stopping your apology. “Y/N, it's fine, really, I understand. And I love spending time with Liah anyways.” Billy waved goodbye, turning to walk away. You hesitated, still wanting to argue, but he purposefully ignored you, shouting over his shoulder, “No, Y/N, you need the money. I'll be fine. See you tomorrow!”

You beeped your car, leaning out the window. “Come back here, young man!” But he just grinned, turning around. He walked backwards, facing Liah in the backseat, and dramatically made finger guns at her, pulling an exaggerated face that finally made your daughter giggle.

“Liah's pick up is 1 PM instead of 4 I know, Y/N, bye!” He laughed, giving you a wave before turning the corner and disappearing from your view.

You could only sigh, watching Billy leave. He'd been Liah's trusted babysitter. He is a teen from your neighborhood. Billy was a sweet, responsible kid with a heart of gold. Despite his own financial struggles for university, he never once let it affect his care for Liah. And you have never been grateful for the kid.

⧗

Once home, you heated up some leftovers for dinner, sitting down with Liah at the tiny kitchen table. She quietly ate her chicken nuggets, still not having spoken much since from the grocery store. You were unused to her prolonged silence. “Aliah, sweetie, thank you for the tub. Mommy is happy.”

The kid just gave you a tight-lipped smile, swinging her feet as she ate.

“Did something happen, sweetie? Mommy is worried.” Liah shook her head again, still not speaking. You sighed deeply, knowing you probably shouldn't ask but your curiosity was getting the best of you.

“Liah, is it true you saw someone who looked like Mama today?” Her eyes widened and she nodded vigorously, practically bouncing in her seat.

“No! She is mama mommy!”

“Really?” you hesitated, not wanting to asked further. You shut your eyes closed, biting your inner lip, your mind drifting back to your past...you opened up your eyes looking at your little girl who looked exactly like her, a name you don't want to mention as of now not until you had any confirmation.

“What did she look like, baby?”

Liah hopped off her chair and scurried over to the mantle, grabbing a framed picture you always kept displayed. She brought it back to you, presenting the photo you always see before you go out and comeback from work.

Since her disappearance, you never hid the truth from Liah. You told her that her mama was just working really far away and would be coming home soon—you never removed her from the picture in Liah's life. You wanted your daughter to grow up believing she had a complete family. You spoke of her often, shared stories and memories, humming the same music she used to sing to you when you sleep on her arms—always presenting her as a loving mother who would return someday.

Your heart was racing, nerves fluttering in your chest as Liah pointed at the photo. It was a photo of you together, her arms wrapped around your neck. “She is mama, I saw mama,” your little girl said, from not speaking a word a while ago, now, she is joyful, pointing at the photo of her mama.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized the implications.

She saw her mother. She saw Natasha.

Liah was far too innocent to lie about something like this. She believed with all her heart that she had seen her mother, and you knew she wasn't mistaken. Natasha was out there, somewhere, and she had somehow come face to face with her daughter.

The realization sent shivers down your spine and that has led you to this very moment…

“Natasha, please, you can't take Liah away from me!” you cried out, running after her as she stormed out of the courthouse. You have been summoned to the court, delivering the devastating news that Natasha was pursuing full custody of your daughter.

Natasha didn't know Yelena did a secret investigation after she saw the kid that she told her looked exactly like her, she even forgot about it days after the encounter. But when Yelena came to her and told her what she found out, that the kid was in fact yours, it led her to uncover the truth—the kid was also hers and everything can be figured out only from that fact.

You wanted to argue, to present a denial, but the truth was plainly obvious. Liah looked exactly like Natasha, her carbon copy. If the court demanded a DNA test, it would be the end of you, you might also probably serve some time in jail.

So in your desperation, you resorted to begging, pleading with Natasha for mercy.

“N-Natasha…please!”

She walked briskly away, her face expressionless, she didn't bother to look back at you. You chased after her, your steps urgent as you pleaded, “Natasha, please, let’s work something out. Wh-what about shared custo—”

“I want full custody.” Her voice was steady, leaving no room for negotiation and immediately cutting you off. “The next hearing is in a week. Don’t bother showing up if you can't match my offer.” Her heels clicked harshly against the marble floor as she continued her inexorable march away from you. Each step she took echoed with finality. Your words seemed to bounce off her back, unheard, unimportant.

But you will do anything, you will meet the ends not to be away from your life—from your daughter.

“Please, you can't just take Liah from me. There must be another way!” Your voice cracked, desperation clawing at your insides.

“Marry me.”

“I’ll marry you!” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. The courthouse fell silent, and a few people turned to look at the two of you. A tear slid down your cheek as the magnitude of your words sank in.

Natasha looked at your tear-stained face, your pleas are already music to her ears and she took her time taking in the sight of your desperation with a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.

“It’s settled then,” she declared, her voice carrying a new same authority she had on you. “In a week, same courthouse, not for custody battle but for our wedding.”

[prettypinkporkchop]

I need a Paul x nerd reader in my life I think there dynamic would be so cute

I fucking love the jock x nerd trope (i know Paul's not a jock but close enough)

How it began:

You're peacefully reading your book at the public library behind a shelf. You hear two loud guys behind you out of the book aisle. You think to yourself how you're thankful for graduating school! You close the book and step out toward the checkout to buy it. You're stopped dead in your tracks.

Paul Lahote and his friend, Embry Call. Embry is being quiet and looking around for something. You gasp and hide behind the shelf. Paul Lahote. He bullied you for the longest time. When he left high school to join Sam's cult, you were already graduating. He's a year younger than you, but he was mister popular. You were just a book worm with straight A's. You've never even been in a relationship.

Embry has always been respectful. You've always questioned why he associates with him. But getting that quick view of their new hair made you extra nervous. You know Embry won't acknowledge you. Paul might even though you guys are grown now. You don't know! He's always unpredictable and hotheaded.

You take a deep breath and lower your head, quickly making your way to the check out desk. Before you reach it, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You swiftly turn and meet Paul. He's smiling his taunting smile, but it quickly fades. He seems lost in thought. Embry is standing next to him and grabs his arm. "Paul." He whispers. Paul snaps out of it and then looks down. "Hey, y/n. Good to see you." Then he walks away.

You can't help but wonder what the fuck that was about. Embry turns to you with a look of "yikes". "Sorry about that, y/n. Uhm, good to see you! Gotta blast." He gives you the peace out sign and walks away. Oh, Embry. What a dork! Oh, wait...

Now:

"Babe! Come play with us!" Paul calls out. He's holding the soccer ball in his hand. You look up from your book and push up your glasses. You can see some of the guys in the water. The other imprints decided to go shopping. It wasn't really your thing, so you stayed with Paul.

"No, sweetie. You know I'm no good at that stuff." You laugh. He groans and tosses the ball to Jared. They start playing again. But Paul stops and runs over to you, playing on your back, tackling you, and holding you down. You laugh loudly as he begins to tickle you. You toss the book and completely lose your place. "Paul!" You yell and then reach for the book. "It's got sand in it, and you made me lose my place." You sigh. He grabs your face and kisses you hard. You kiss back and hold his face, too, rubbing your thumbs on his cheek.

"Think fast!" You hear Quil running to you two. You pull away and see the ball coming right toward you. Paul reacts quickly, catching it with one hand. "Bro, really?" He glares at him.

You guys get home, and Paul is watching football on TV. You're sitting on your phone, looking at Pinterest crafting ideas. Easy ones that'll keep you out of bordemn in your free time. "YOO!" He yells and laughs. He points at the screen and looks at you. "Did you see that horrible defense?! Hell no." He turns back and laughs. You just smile and nod your head, not understanding a thing he said. He turns back to you and grabs your thigh. "Right, my nerd." He leans in and peppers kisses all over your face. You lay back and pull him on top of you. He holds himself up, looking down at you. "When you are focusing on reading or anything else, really, you're so cute. When you tutor Brady and Collin for math, I love it." He smiles. You blush and wrap your arms around his neck. "Thank you, sexy." You giggle and pull him down for a kiss. His lips land on yours for a moment, and he pulls away, looking down at you. "Do you want to play video games together? How about Madden? It's not real football. I'm sure you'll like it!" He sits up and turns on his Playstation. You suck in a breath. "Last time you made me play a sports game, I nearly fell asleep." You giggle. He laughs and then goes through his downloads. He skips animal crossing SOOOO fast. "Hey!" You call out. "Nope. Nope. I'll settle for Minecraft, but that's all you get." He shakes his head. "How about we meet in the middle? GTA?" You grab the other controller that's on the coffee table. He smirks and turns to you. "I pick the music when we steal a bus."

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Omg congratulations on 700! 🎉 It is so so we’ll deserved. I must admit that I reread your work a lot because it is just so good and some of my favorites! 🥰

For the prompt, as always I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope, but I’d like to add another fun element so….

Blue + Lion + Hummingbird perhaps? 😈

Okay this one was a request by many, including my cutie pal @thirstydiglett and @truebluesanji and HOT DOG is it a good one!

Just One Bottle (+18)

Pairing: Sanji x Strawhat Fem!Reader

Prompt: Only One Bed x Aphrodisiac

WC: 2000 lol

Warnings: Open for interpretation on how the pals ended up ingesting the aphrodisiac, forced closeness, unprotected sex, p in v sex, morning after pill discussion, drug use, creampie, Sanji being a gentleman!

— — 

You strolled the aisles of the bookstore as you waited for Sanji to finish up his snail call outside. You ran your fingers across the labels gently as you passed by each shelf. You glanced towards the shop windows and saw that Sanji was outside giving some choice words to whoever was on the end of his transponder snail. The sun was setting and you found yourself captivated by the way the low light reflected off his blonde hair. He looked handsome. 

But he wasn’t your type. He was always fawning over you, even more obnoxiously so than for Nami and Robin. You never gave him half a thought in terms of a choice as a romantic partner, he was just a crew mate that you cared for deeply… as a friend. You turned down another aisle of bookshelves as you could clearly tell that Sanji wasn’t finishing his conversation any time soon. 

You found yourself stopped at the romance section and pulled a bright purple tome off the shelf. “Part Time Human, Full Time Lover…” You read the title to yourself before flipping it open. You find yourself reading a rather graphic passage describing an intimate encounter between the human protagonist and her well-endowed centaur lover. “Goodness…” You whisper to yourself as you find yourself flipping the page in interest. 

“Y/n!” You snap the book closed instinctively as you hear your name called. Sanji was rounding the corner of the aisle and came up to you. 

“Sanji! Hi!” You hurriedly put the book back on the shelf. “Any news?” 

“Well, the sun is going down fast and the moss head idiot got his group lost so we have to stay on the island for the night. We’re all too far apart to get back to the Sunny. We can find an inn around here and get some rooms.” Sanji explains to you. 

“Fine, hopefully somewhere with a restaurant. I’m starving.” You smile. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a night off from cooking?” You raise an eyebrow at the tall blonde. 

“I guess. Don’t expect the same quality of food that you’d get back on the ship. Shall we?” Sanji remarks as he gestures to the door of the bookstore, letting you go first. 

— —

After wandering the small village for awhile, the two of you find a small inn that had a tavern on the first floor. You ducked in, trying not to draw attention seeing as the two of you were highly wanted pirates. 

Sanji strode confidently to the front desk. 

“We require two rooms for the night. Money is no issue.” Sanji stoically demands of the innkeeper. 

“Sir I’m sorry… but we only have one room left tonight… I’d be happy to give you a discounted rate…” The mousey old man behind the counter said as his voice trembled. 

“This kind of dump has no vacancy? You’re telling me that this hole in the wall has only one room available-“

“We’ll take it.” You pushed past Sanji’s shoulder and placed your stack of Beri on the counter. 

The innkeeper’s eyes danced from your smile to Sanji’s scowl. 

“We’ll take it.” Sanji echoed, lowering his voice. 

“E-e-excellent news! I will issue you your keys now. Would the couple like one set or two?” The old man sputters out. 

“Two.” “One.”

You say two and Sanji replies with one. He clears his throat. 

“Two, please sir.” Sanji changes his response. 

The old man issues you two sets of keys and hands you your change after you pay for the room. 

“Please, enjoy our restaurant. You may find that sharing a room is not uncommon among couples at this hotel.” The innkeeper mentions. 

You look up at Sanji. 

“I am kind of hungry, Sanji. Shall we?” You question. 

“Can’t go to bed with any empty stomach, can we?” Sanji shrugs. 

Sanji put his hand on the small of your back and led you in the direction of the small restaurant. 

“Two of you?” The stout hostess asked and you nodded. She led you and Sanji to a candlelit table in the back of the pub. Of course, Sanji pulled your chair out for you. Once seated across from one another, you picked up the drink menu. 

“The room was so cheap… should we get the champagne?” You smirk over the menu across the table at Sanji. 

“Nami would kill us… what’s the label?” Sanji gestures to grab the drink menu from you and you hand it to him. His brows furrow. “I actually haven’t heard of this brand before… but it’s expensive… must be from the South Blue…” Sanji quirks a curled eyebrow up at you. “Should we?”

The sides of your mouth curl up. 

“Yes.” 

Sanji breaks into a grin as the waitress arrived at your table. 

“Anything I can get you two tonight?” The cute redheaded waitress asked you both. 

“We’ll start with a bottle of the champagne.” Sanji says to the waitress. “And for food… anything your recommend for a night on the town?” He says with a smirk. 

“Oh, I think our chef can do something for you.” The waitress says with a smile. 

“Perfect.” Sanji says as he snaps his menu closed and hands it to the waitress. 

— — 

The two of you had finished your bottle of champagne and dinner and were waiting around for the waitress to bring you your bill. 

“No no, it really was lovely. I just have never had a champagne like this…” Sanji says as the two of you discuss dinner. 

“The oysters were a nice touch, I thought.” You remark. 

“Mr BlackLeg sir thank you…” The waitress interrupts as he places a large stack of Beri on the tray containing your bill. 

“That was a nice tip you left…” You say as Sanji ushers you softly out of your seat, covering your back with his suit jacket. “Far more than most would.” You didn’t feel drunk, but you felt some strange warmth growing in your lower half. It started building when you drank that damned champagne. 

“It’s nothing for someone who used to work in hospitality. Their service is worth far more than the champagne.” Sanji says as he guides you to the stairs, leading you up to your room on the third floor. 

You reach your room and Sanji fumbles with the keys before getting the lock open. The door opens to reveal a small room with a queen size bed and an ensuite bathroom. 

“I-I can sleep on the floor.” Sanji says immediately. You turned and saw that his cheeks were bright pink. Was it from the alcohol?

“It’s fine, we’re adults. Let’s just get to bed.” You respond and begin stripping off your pants. You then unstrap your bra and take it off through the front of your shirt. Sanji hesitates for a second before stripping down to just his boxers. 

“I’ll take this side.” You said awkwardly as you slide into the bed. 

“Right. Goodnight then.” Sanji shuts off the lights and hops into bed on the side opposite you. 

“Yep. Night.” You curl up into your side, so that you wouldn’t encroach on your crew mates sleeping space. 

All you can hear is labored breathing. 

Was it your own?

Was it Sanji’s?

Something was off. You couldn’t sleep. 

Why was your pulse thrumming in your privates? Why was there slick gushing out of your slit to soak your underwear? Nothing even remotely sexual has happened tonight and yet your levels of arousal were off the charts. You tossed and turned for several minutes trying to ignore it, having the ache between your legs only grow more intense. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Sanji?” You whisper out into the darkness. 

“Gods, Y/N, tell me you feel like I do right now.” Sanji responds in between pants. 

“What the fuck happened to us?” You breath out to the dark ceiling above you. 

“Something in that drink…” Sanji breathes out. “It fucking hurts…” 

You peer over to your left and see Sanji grabbing at his crotch beneath the sheets. 

“They drugged us.” You pant out, right hand delving into your panties and rubbing at your clit, trying to get some relief from the burn this mysterious wine was causing you. 

“I-I don’t know how to say this, mon cherie… But what if we… helped each other…" Sanji said as he saw you pleasuring yourself beneath the bed covers. 

“Right… it’s just helping a friend…” You say softly as you touch your sex further, reaching your left hand out under the sheets to wrap around Sanji’s erect penis. 

“YES- I mean, yes-“ Sanji jerks at your touch. “It’s just relieving each other…”

“Okay… fine…” You relent. 

Sanji jumps up and positions himself above you in a nanosecond. You take this time to push your panties down and your t-shirt over your head.

“Spread your legs for me, my love…” Sanji whispers as he hovers over you. “Show me what you need…” 

“Sanji please, I need you inside of me.” You pleaded as you brought your hand down to spread your pussy lips. “Sanji why does it hurt?! Please help me!” You bucked your hips in his direction. You were desperate. 

“I’m gonna fix it, okay? I’m gonna stop it from hurting. Do you want that, y/n?” Sanji asked. 

“Yes! Please help me!” You cried out again as you saw Sanji pull himself fully from his boxers. 

Sanji dances the head of his dick across you clit as you whimpered. 

“I’ve got you, mon amour…” Sanji assures you as he leans down and pushes his cock into your trembling hole. 

“OH-!” The moan is ripped from your lungs as you feel the throbbing head of Sanji’s member push past your g-spot to fill you completely. “Fucking finally-“ You groan as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the fullness you’ve been craving in your bones finally being fulfilled. 

“More, more, more….” You chant as Sanji bucks his hips into yours with a fervent pace. Whatever aphrodisiac was in that wine had fully engulfed your brain and all you wanted was a thick cock inside of you stretching you out. The only thing you could focus on was the wet glide of Sanji’s heavy dick in and out of your hole. “Please, more!” You cried. 

“My love, I’ll give you everything you want…” Sanji’s eagerness to please came through as he pushed your thighs up towards your chest, allowing him further access to your favorite spot. “Need you to cum on me… please..” He begged. 

“M-More.. want more..." You whimper out. 

Sanji takes one of his hands from the crook of your knee and places it around your neck gently. He leans in and places a tender kiss on your lips. He moves his other hand to the top of your sex. Sanji slips two fingers inside of you next to his own cock, assuring you're full to the brim and your favorite spot is being stroked with every thrust.

"San-ji! So- Fuckin- Full!" You cried out in the throws of pleasure, finally feeling exactly what you wanted.

“I can’t do this much longer, mon cherie, so wet and so tight…” Sanji groans into your lips as he ruts into you like an animal. “Need you to cum…” 

“I’m…cumming… fuck!” You scrunch your eyes shut and scratch at Sanji’s naked back. 

“So perfect….” Sanji whimpers into your sweaty neck as he shoots his load into you. You stroked his neck all the way down to the base of his spine. 

“Aaah- Fuck- Ah!” You hear the cook grunt into your flesh as he digs his hips into yours further. 

“A-are you cumming again?” You ask with a heavy sigh, coming down from your own orgasm. 

“Sh-shiiiit….” Sanji groans. Tears prick at your eyes as overstimulation sets in. “M-my love…” 

You feel Sanji’s hips drive further into yours, impossibly deep. He was emptying yet another massive load in you in less than a few minutes, it was spilling filthily out of your hole around his cock. Sanji collapsed almost immediately on top of you without pulling out. 

Sanji wrapped his arms around your torso and settled in.

“You know you’re going to have to ask Chopper about a ‘morning after’ situation, right?” You muse as you stroke Sanji’s lower back. 

“I think the embarrassment is worth it.” Sanji smirks as he nuzzles into your breast. 

You smile and pull your love-cook close to fall asleep.

— —

Hope you ALL enjoyed!

xx

Mo 

[satans-helper]

In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library. 

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart. 

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows. 

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.” 

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny. 

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf.  “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.” 

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next. 

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!” 

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued. 

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment? 

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.” 

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim. 

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.” 

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves. 

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

-

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job. 

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before. 

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that. 

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between. 

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss. 

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues. 

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy. 

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity. 

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity. 

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt. 

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open. 

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs. 

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next. 

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him. 

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced. 

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you. 

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement. 

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more. 

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you. 

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic. 

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.” 

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.” 

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

---

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Tagging: @kissingsun @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @milojames16 @mindastreamofcolours @wetkleenex-gvf @itsafullmoon @heckingfrick @peaceloveunitygvf @musicspeaks @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta

[merrybloomwrites]

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 2)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Harry go on their first dates, and Y/N accidentally reveals her secret, which Harry is nothing but supportive about.

Word Count: 4.3K

Content Warning: talks about sex, mentions of religion

AN: Totally forgot about tag lists! Lmk if you want to be on a tag list for this series to get notified when the other chapters get posted!

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You wake up Saturday morning feeling extra jittery. Today is the day you see Harry again, this time for your official first date. You check your text conversation one more time, just to make sure that this is real. Once you’re absolutely certain that this is happening, you get up, eat breakfast, and begin to get ready.

It’s just coffee, you remind yourself as you look through your closet for something to wear. You pull out jeans and an oversized sweater, wanting to be warm since it’s still the middle of January. After deciding on an outfit you get in the shower, trying to calm your swirling thoughts with the warm water. 

After drying off, you meticulously do your makeup and then loosely curl your hair. You hope that you found that perfect line, staying just casual enough while still getting a little glam. Or at least more so than your typical ponytail and a touch of mascara look you do most days. 

Even though you take your time getting ready, it’s still early once you’re done. You decide to have a small snack, since Harry had said coffee. But you’re meeting at one so maybe he meant lunch as well. But maybe not. And you don’t want to go starving, but also you don’t want to be too full in case he does want a meal with you. 

So yea, you’re sitting there, overthinking, while eating a granola bar and a piece of fruit. Not exactly the chill, relaxing morning you had planned. But let’s face it, you’re about to go on your first date ever. And it’s with a celebrity that you’ve idolized for years. That’s not something to be chill about. 

When it’s finally time to start walking to the coffee shop you feel a sense of relief that the suspense will finally be over. You’re going to meet Harry, and have coffee, and whatever happens, happens. 

You pull on your heaviest coat, slipping your phone, wallet, and keys into the pockets, and start your walk. The place he chose isn’t far from you, just under a mile. That’s walkable in your eyes, and you’d rather take a slow stroll there than have to find parking. A walk will relax you. Parking in the busy neighborhood will heighten your stress, and really, you do not need more stress at the moment. 

When you walk in the store you realize it’s not a coffee shop, but more a bookstore with a coffee corner in the back. You walk around a bit to see if Harry is there, but you’re early so you’re not surprised when you don’t find him. 

It’s warm inside so you take off your coat and drape it over your arm. You wander the stacks while you wait, and as you read the synopsis of a random book you hear a voice behind you say, “Didn’t take you as someone who’d be a fan of Lovecraftian Horror.”

You quickly turn and see Harry standing there, dressed similar to you in jeans and a hoodie. You’re silent for a moment, just smiling at the sight of him before your brain catches up and you answer, “It’s always important to try new things,” you say before adding, “But maybe not today.” You place the book back on the shelf and turn back to face Harry.

The two of you stand there awkwardly for a moment before Harry says, “Would you like to grab some coffee? They’ve got good soup and sandwiches if you’re hungry.”

“Sounds perfect,” you answer and he places his hand on your lower back to lead you towards the coffee corner. You try to act normal at the gesture, but inside you’re freaking out at this contact. It’s so sweet, so casual! And so completely new to you. 

“I nearly always get the veggie soup here,” he says as the two of you stand looking at the menu board. 

“Oh that sounds good. I think I might go with the tomato basil,” you reply. 

“That’s delicious as well.”

“Do you come here a lot?” You ask. 

“Not all the time, but it is one of my favorite places in the area. Nice and private so I tend to fly under the radar here.”

Just then a woman steps behind the counter and says, “Hi Harry, nice to see you again.”

“Hi Evelyn, how have you been?”

“Can’t complain. How are you?”

“I’m doing well! Evie, this is Y/N,” he says, gesturing towards you and you shyly smile and say hello. 

“Finally letting someone in on your best kept secret huh?” Evelyn asks. Harry just chuckles at that and Evelyn says, “So what can I get for you guys?”

The two of you order, Harry insisting on paying, and soon you’re both sitting at a secluded table enjoying your tea and soup. 

For the next hour and a half you sit and chat, getting to know each other and enjoying one another’s company. 

There are also little touches. Nothing crazy, just his hand grazing yours or him tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, but it’s enough to make you want to melt right there in your seat. You’ve never had this kind of attention before, and each and every one of these little firsts is so special to you. 

After nearly two hours together there’s a natural lull in the conversation and Harry says, “You know, I’ve never asked a fan out on a date before. Was always told it was a bad idea, it would be too messy. I was just so excited about my niece when I met you that I guess I forgot about all that.”

Suddenly you're nervous, expecting him to say that he regrets this or that it can’t happen again. Sensing your distress, Harry quickly adds, “But I’m so happy that I did. I really enjoyed getting to be with you today. And uhm, I’d like to do it again sometime. If you’d like that as well.”

You’re instantly relieved and reply, “I would. I had fun getting to know you.”

The two of you share a small smile and stand. Harry puts his arms out, silently asking for a hug, and you’re happy to accept. His arms around you are strong, and warm, and he smells so lovely. It pains you to pull away but at the same time you’re still not entirely comfortable with public displays of affection, even if it is just a hug. 

After saying goodbye you start your walk home, reflecting on the afternoon. It had been a perfect first date in your opinion, and you can’t wait to see Harry again. 

Your next date doesn’t happen for a few weeks, family matters and work schedules making it hard to find a time. You do text a bit and have a couple phone calls, neither of you wanting to go so long without talking. 

It’s a mild Saturday in February, and you guys decide to go on a hike. You’ve been trapped inside for months due to the cold, damp weather, and this is the perfect opportunity to finally get some fresh air. There’s a trail you like that you send to Harry, and he confirms he’s on board. 

He picks you up mid-morning to drive together to the trailhead. It feels so casual, comfortable, even a tad domestic. Music is playing from the radio and you’re both commenting on the scenery you pass, telling random stories you think of along the way. 

The dirt parking lot is nearly empty when you get there, just two other cars, indicating that you likely won’t be seeing many people on the trail. 

You start the walk, the mixture of easy exercise, fresh air, and good company all making for a perfect morning. The goal of the hike is a lookout point, and while it’s not the most spectacular view, especially in the winter, it’s still quite impressive. You look out over the valley, observing the different little towns tucked in the rolling hills.

Harry stands beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, and you focus on simply breathing like a normal person. It’s electric, the feeling of him touching you, even through layers of clothing. When you turn to look at him you find he’s already turned towards you, his eyes darting down to your lips. 

You nearly stop breathing once again, sending that he may be about to kiss you and trying to figure out if you’re more excited or nervous about that fact. He leans in slowly, his face inches from yours. Suddenly a bird takes off from a nearby branch, startling you both and effectively ruining the moment. 

With your intimate little bubble now popped, the two of you start your journey back to the car. After a few minutes you’re back to the same easy conversation from before. Unsurprisingly, you start talking about the kids, Harry filling you in on updates with Gemma’s little one and you telling him how your niece and nephew are doing.

“How was Wyatt when your sister was pregnant? Did she understand what was happening?” Harry asks.

“I think she understood as well as any two year old could. She knew she was going to be a big sister, knew there was a baby in her mommy’s belly.”

“Did she ask how the baby got there?”

“No, I think at this age you just accept information without questioning it as much. She’s not quite at the stage where she needs to know the reason for everything,” you answer.

“So she’s not incessantly asking ‘why’ yet?”

“Not yet, and I’m not looking forward to when she does,” you say with a laugh. “She’s a very determined little girl, she’s definitely going to be asking a million questions. And she is curious so I can see her wanting to know how things work and all of that.”

“Did she see like, ultrasounds of the baby? Do you show toddlers that?”

“I don’t know if they showed her those. But my sister had one of those doppler things that you can put on her belly and hear the baby’s heartbeat. I know she showed Wyatt that.” You start laughing again before telling the story that just popped in your head. “There was one day that I was hanging at their house and Wy pulled the doppler out. And she went to Kyra and put it on her stomach and then came over and did it to me too. So Kyra asked Wyatt if she found anything to which I immediately replied that she better not!” 

Harry laughs along with you, and without thinking you add, “I mean, it’d be cool to meet the pope and everything but I’d really rather not have the next virgin birth.” Your brain finally catches up with your mouth and you quickly shut up, your cheeks heating in embarrassment that you’ve just revealed so much information so early in the relationship. 

Harry’s quick to reassure you, saying, “Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, alright? Matter of fact that’s important for me to know. Can I ask why, if you don’t mind telling me?”

You take a deep breath before explaining, “My family is religious so I grew up going to Church and private school and we were told that premarital sex is a sin. And I was very much a rule follower so if I was told not to do something, I didn’t do it. Plus I was terrified of getting pregnant in high school and I knew that condoms aren’t totally effective, and there was no way I could get birth control. Then I got to college and was so busy with studying and working that having sex wasn’t a priority for me. And now, well, making friends as an adult is hard enough. Finding someone to lose your virginity to in your late twenties is a challenge. Guys don’t want to deal with someone that has no experience. So yea, really not a lot of opportunities for sex in my life.”

You’re nervous as Harry takes his time before responding. Finally, he says, “That’s all completely valid. And smart. Sometimes I wish I had waited until I was older and more mature. And any guy who won’t take the time to teach someone is a total dick.” 

“You really think that?” you ask, unsure if he’s just saying that to be polite.

Harry stops walking in order to turn and face you. His expression is intense, sincere, and he looks you in the eyes when he says, “Of course I mean that. People treat sex like this casual thing, and maybe for some people it is. But not for me. It’s why I always hated those rumors that I was a womanizer and slept around. Sex to me is important, a way to show you care about someone, a way to connect with them. No one should be pressured into it or made to feel bad just because they might not know what they’re doing. And when someone is new to intimacy, then the experienced partner should be patient, and help them to make sure they enjoy it. Plus, it can be uncomfortable for women, feel invasive even, especially when it’s not done right. That’s the last thing I’d want to have happen, for anyone.”

He stops his mini rant and you smile, feeling so reassured and at ease. You don’t know how far this relationship between the two of you will go, but you do know that if it does become physical, that you don't have to be scared. You trust every word Harry says.

You smile to show your appreciation for taking this so seriously and making you feel so safe. You’ve had people make fun of you when they found out you’re still a virgin, but Harry isn’t phased at all. 

“Want to hear something kind of ridiculous?” you ask, feeling more confident after hearing Harry’s thoughts.

He nods his head furrows his eyebrows, obviously interested in what you have to say next. 

“Okay, this is probably even more embarrassing to admit, but like, I truly do not understand how it’s supposed to fit.” He looks at you confused so you continue, “It’s just such a big thing and it’s apparently supposed to go into such a small hole. Makes no sense to me.”

Finally realizing what you’re saying, Harry barks out a laugh. You’re happy the mood is lightened and he responds, “Guess I really have my work cut out for me then. May need to make you some powerpoints or something to explain it all.” 

“That’d probably be helpful,” you reply, laughing as well, though the statement is unfortunately true. 

The two of you start walking again, and Harry slips his hand in yours. It’s nice, not sweaty or uncomfortable like you always thought holding hands would be, and even this makes you feel so close, so connected to him. 

After the hike you stop and grab sandwiches before Harry drives you home. Ever the gentleman he gets out of the car and rushes to open your door for you. His hand now resting on your back, he walks you to your front porch. 

“I had fun today,” he says, turning to face you. 

“Me too. I’m so happy the weather worked out,” you reply.

“Yea it was nice being able to get outside.”

It’s silent for a moment, both of you just looking at each other. You’re not sure what’s about to happen, so you just follow Harry’s lead. His eyes glance to your lips, and immediately your heart rate increases. You’ve read about this, how that’s a sign he wants to kiss you, and oh my god, it’s finally happening in real life. 

You take calm, even breaths as his face slowly moves closer to yours. With one hand still resting on your waist, his other comes up to cup your cheek, and you gasp at the touch. He continues to close the distance, giving you plenty of time to move away, but you don’t.

You want this, want to finally have your first kiss. 

When his lips gently press against yours, it takes just a second for you to respond. It’s weird, trying to figure out how to shape your mouth, or where to put your hands. But you don’t have too much time to worry, because he pulls back a second later.

For a moment you’re almost disappointed by how quick it was. Until you realize that’s what it should be. Not some crazy make out, or trying to head straight to bed for more. Just a simple display of affection with the promise of more in the future. 

You also know that just a peck is exactly what you can handle right now, and Harry definitely sensed that. It’s like he’s more aware of your limits than you are, which is so comforting. 

“Today has been lovely,” Harry says as he steps back, his hands leaving your body and allowing you to breathe normally again. “I’ll call you, okay?” 

“Okay,” you reply bashfully. “Drive safe. Bye, Harry.”

“Bye, Y/N,” he says and you force yourself to open your door and walk inside. Once he hears the lock click, Harry goes back to his car and drives away. 

Now alone, you release the squeal that’s been trying to burst out of you. No part of you truly believes that just happened. That’s just crazy. Things like this never happen to you. 

There’s a journal on a shelf in your living room that’s collecting dust, but if there’s ever a time to add an entry, it’s now. You open it up, write the date and the top, and simply add “Harry kissed me.” It feels almost juvenile, but you never want to forget this moment. 

You spend the rest of the day on cloud nine, trying to get things done but finding yourself standing in random places, completely zoned out and thinking about the kiss, how his lips felt on yours, the hand cupping your cheek, his smile when he pulled away.

You want more, want it with him, and now you’re just anxiously awaiting his call, wondering how soon you can see him again. 

Which ends up taking longer than you expected. For days you don’t hear from Harry; no call, and no text. By Tuesday, you’re starting to feel self conscious, wondering if he really had just said all those things to be nice but really wants nothing to do with a virgin. By Friday, you think maybe you’re crazy, and you made everything up and haven’t even met Harry. It’s all a delusion.

And then, on Saturday morning, your phone rings. When you see his name you immediately answer, which might seem desperate, but truthfully you’re desperate to prove to yourself that the past two dates really happened.

“Y/N, love, I am so sorry for not calling sooner,” he says the second the call connects. “I swear I picked up the phone half a dozen times and something always came up. I really did not mean to keep you hanging for a week.”

“Thank’s alright, I know you’re busy,” you reply, breathing a sigh of relief that he isn’t avoiding you on purpose.

“It’s not alright, but thank you for understanding. I'd like to make it up to you. I know it’s last minute but are you available tonight for dinner?”

“Let me check,” you say. It’s silly, you’re completely free as you are most Saturdays, but you don’t want to seem too eager. Plus, he did leave you hanging for a week, so it’s only fair he needs to squirm for a minute. “Looks like I’m free this evening,” you add after a moment. 

“Wonderful! I can pick you up at 6, if that works for you?” 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then,” you say. 

“Looking forward to it,” he replies before hanging up. 

You spend the day anticipating that evening. You take a luxurious bath before styling your hair and applying makeup. Truthfully, you’re quite nervous for this date. Harry had texted you after the phone call, explaining the restaurant's dress code, which was quite fancy. You were lucky to find a dress in your closet that would work. Plus, this is the third date. You’d always heard this is when things would often get physical. 

What if Harry wants that tonight? Would you be ready? Or would you have to decline and see how serious he was about going at your pace. Part of you thinks that maybe it’s best to just get it over with already. But the idea of having sex is still go foreign, so scary, that you admit you need time. You need to know him better, trust him more. You know you can trust him to respect that, but you still feel bad denying him. 

Before you spiral too much, your doorbell rings. After one last look in the mirror, you grab your purse and head to the front door.

Opening it, you’re face to face with the most beautiful image. Harry is standing there, in a perfectly fitted suit, holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“Wow, you look beautiful,” he says. “These are for you,” he adds, holding out the flowers. 

You blush at his words, thanking him for the compliment and the flowers. You invite him inside so that you can find a vase for the bouquet. He politely waits by the front door, not wanting to intrude on your personal space by peeking around your home. 

A moment later you’re locking the front door and following Harry out to the car. He holds your hand for the drive, and it takes everything in you not to squeal from happiness. You’ve seen so many of your friends have boyfriends and it looks like it’s finally going to be your turn. You take nothing for granted, not even something as small as simply holding hands over the center console. 

The restaurant was one you previously dreamed of going to, but never imagined you’d be able to actually eat there. You knew it took months to get a reservation, and a meal here probably  costs more than your monthly car payment. But when you’d expressed your concerns about that, Harry had simply replied, “Let me treat you.” 

When you arrive you’re led to a private table, a bottle of wine already waiting for the two of you. Harry pulls out the chair for you, ever the gentleman, and finally the two of you are sitting face to face. 

The warm lighting and glow of the candles sets  the romantic scene. Harry looks absolutely gorgeous, and it nearly pains you to look away so you can read the menu. You notice there are no prices listed, probably for the best that you don’t really know how much this is going to cost. 

“Anything catching your eye?” He asks. 

“Anything you’d recommend?” You ask in return. 

“Well their salmon is my favorite, but honestly you can’t go wrong. Their pasta is great as well, and my friends said the steaks are excellent.” 

The two of you order and enjoy the meal together and you continue to learn more about each other. It isn’t until you’ve finished dessert that Harry brings up the conversation you’d had during your last date. 

“I wanted to ask you a bit of a personal question, if that’s alright,” he says. 

“You may ask,” you reply. 

“You mentioned last time that you don’t have any experience. Can you clarify what you mean? Like, no experience with sex or no experience in general?”

“None at all. You were actually my first kiss. To be honest I was kind of nervous today about the whole ‘third date’ thing.”

“There’s no timeline, Y/N. I promise, I will never push you to do anything you’re not ready to do. I have no expectations regarding this. It’s whatever you want, in your time.”

“That’s very good to hear. And I do feel ready to try things with you. Maybe not everything yet but, I trust you, and I’d like to do more with you. To learn from you.”

“Then I’m excited to teach you.”

You both smile and move on for the moment, going back to other conversation topics. A short while later Harry settles the bill and drives you home. His hand once again holds yours, his thumb rubbing circles along your skin. 

Just like the previous date, he walks you to your door. 

“Would you like to come inside?” You ask him. 

“Not this time,” he answers kindly. You understand he’s not rejecting you, just saying not tonight. Still, you’re slightly disappointed. You’d gotten yourself excited at the idea of being more intimate with Harry. But once again you know he is right, that it’s a good idea to wait a little longer. 

You nod and say, “I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you again for dinner.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “I’ll text you this week and we can set something up for our next date.”

“I look forward to it.”

“I do as well. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Again like last time, he leans down, large hands cradling your cheeks as he meets you in a soft kiss. Again, it leaves you wanting more, and he knows it if his smirk is anything to go by. 

“All in due time,” he murmurs as he pulls away. 

You finally walk into your home, tummy full of butterflies, and can’t help one more glance out the window. You catch Harry just as he’s getting in the car and you watch as he drives away. 

‘All in due time’ you tell yourself, feeling excited about what is to come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[bubuslutty]

alt!gf x comics nerd!könig

Imagine an awkward comic book nerd König with an alt!gf way out of his league (according to him).

He works part time at a comic book store when he first meets her, he's in a corner arranging comics and manga when she walks in and his eyes widen behind his messy ginger long hair.

She's the prettiest girl he's ever fucking seen in his life and he can't take his eyes off of her. And so do the rest of the clients and workers in the shop.

She's wearing a tiny black baby tee with Miles Morales' Spider Logo on its front, the tee was tight and it looked like she didn't wear anything underneath it, and it was very short, that if she kept stretching her arms above her head too many times to reach for comics in the higher shelves, her shirt is bound to ride up to expose her nipples. Her stomach all down to a few inches below her belly button were naked, and a pair of tiny jean shorts hugged her waist and ass.

Then there was the jewelry, the chains, the arm warmers, gloves, leg warmers, mismatched socks with a pair of white and red Jordans, the headphones, hair clips and cute earrings that tied her outfit together.

She looked like a doll, like those pretty girls you'd see on Pinterest (König doesn't know that, though, bold of you to assume he uses Pinterest).

And König? Well, he was wearing a green t-shirt with the store's logo on the back and front, with a white long sleeved shirt under it, paired with a pair of loose ripped jeans and we'll worn white trainers. And finally, a black mask covering the lower half of his face.

She walked straight to the Marvel shelf, looking around with her hands crossed over her chest while humming until she gasped and got her hands on a comic with Spiderman 2099 plastered on the cover.

König tried his best to stop staring like a creep but she was just so hypnotising, he wanted to keep looking at her, maybe ask her name, what she likes to read–

Don't get ahead of yourself, König, have you seen her and seen yourself?

König's shoulders slumped as he watched her flip through the comic with a smile on her glossy lips, and his heart jumped when she met his eyes.

Shit.

König internally panicked and turned his head towards the shelf he was organizing and adding in new comics to be sold while his heart beat quickly in his chest. He gulped and his hand trembled when he heard shuffling and footsteps getting louder towards him over the sound of some random anime opening from the speakers in the shop.

"Excuse me?"

König tried not to flinch and slowly turned around and looked down at the owner of the voice, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face when he was face to face with the same girl he was gawking at.

"Yes?" König replied, masking his nervousness with a monotone voice.

"Can you get me a comic from the top shelf? I can't reach.." She asked, looking him over not so subtly and tilted her head to the side, adding a small, "Please?" at the end of her sentence.

"Where?" König asked and her eyes lit up. She turned around and led him straight to the shelf and told him the comic she was after as König easily reached for it and handed it over.

"Thank you," She smiled and took the comic from his bigger hand, their hands brushing as he kept watching her through his hair.

"Do you read marvel comics?" She asked and König was surprised, what is she doing?

Making conversation with him?

But girls usually got intimidated by his build and his personality.

König cleared his throat and shoved both of his hands in the pockets of his loose ripped jeans, "Sometimes."

"Do you have a character you like reading about? You don't have to answer if you have work to do, by the way! I'm just curious and want to read more comics about different characters!" She said, toying with the Lego spiderman keychain hanging off her belt hoop, pulling her shorts a bit lower and König looked away when more of her lacey red panties were visible.

"No it's alright. I have time. I like reading about Venom and Moon Knight. And you? Who do you like reading about?..." König answered, his voice not wavering, not even once even if he was screaming in his head.

He hopes he won't scare her away due to the lack of emotion and interest in his voice, but he was internally nervous and that's the only way he knows how to hide it.

But it seemed like the pretty girl wasn't phased nor intimidated by König's tone of voice, or how he literally covered her in his shadow.

"I really like Moon Knight! And Venom too! But obviously, Miles Morales' Spiderman is my favourite…" She excitedly told him and pointed at her chest, where Miles' graffiti Logo was.

"What's your name, by the way?" She quickly asked, and König was a bit overwhelmed.

"König." He answered without thinking and blinking, staring at her with his pale blue eyes.

"Hey, König." She giggled and told him her name as she hugged the comics to her chest.

König didn't know what to say except give her an awkward nod.

"Nice to meet you. I'll go pay for these. And uh, thanks for the help." She said, biting her lower lip and fluttering her pretty eyelashes at him.

"No worries." He said and stepped aside so she could make her way to the till.

König was left buzzing and slightly breathless, he blinked and turned around to face a shelf with Batman runs to compose himself while she paid for her comics. Then he felt a small tap on his back and turned around.

"Sorry I just wanted to give you this." She said while holding a hair band in her hand.

König stared down at her hand without saying anything then back up at her face.

"It's for your hair…" She said in a small voice and König didn't say anything, just stared at her.

Then she coughed, "I just thought– I'm so sorry for overstepping, I'll go now."

König moved without thinking and held her wrist, making her eyes widen like a deer caught in the headlight.

"Thanks." He said and took the hairband, making quick work of tying his hair in a manbun, and now she could see more of his face, his pale eyes, eyebrows, freckles and small scars.

She smiled a bit and gave him a nod, "Bye, now."

"Bye." König said, smiling behind his mask.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Inside Your Head

Alex Blake x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: suggestive content (but not smut), sexual themes/innuendo, autism times (good ones, tho), established relationship, explicit language (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 0.9k

Summary: Alex is helping you pack up your apartment so you can move in with her. The only problem is that you keep getting distracted. And she's got to find a way to make you focus.

You stood on tiptoes to reach the books on the top shelf, grasping for their spines. You hated to un-alphabetize them but, after all, they wouldn’t stay that way in the boxes.

You jumped as Alex’s hands slipped inside your shirt and around your waist from behind. She buried her head in your neck, placing a kiss on your collarbone. You exhaled deeply, melting into her touch, placing your hands over hers.

“Need some help?” she asked.

You huffed, frustrated by your height. “...Yes.”

She reached over you to grab a few books, and for neither the first nor the last time that day, you admired her strong arms, fully on display thanks to the tank top she’d worn to help you pack. What you really wanted was to turn her around and push her up against the bookshelves, but you’d already gotten “distracted” once today. And Alex had said, in no uncertain terms, that there would be no more “distractions” until you’d finished packing up at least one room.

Alex ran her hands over the cover of a book, noting the torn dust cover, the pages grimy from years of fingers leafing through them.

“This must have been a favorite,” she observed, handing it to you.

You smiled, holding the book to your nose to smell the musty, familiar pages. “Yeah. For a long time when I was a kid.”

You sunk to the ground, leaning against the bookshelf and thumbing through the pages. Pages that had gotten you through so many things, that had ignited your love of words and stories.

“What’s it about?” Alex prompted, lowering herself to the floor next to you and leaning her head on your shoulder.

You traced your fingers over the cover. “The usual. Unlikely hero, dastardly villain, an order of pacifist monks.”

Alex furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t think that I’d classify an order of pacifist monks as ‘the usual.’”

You smiled. “I loved the monks. They’d have these huge feasts and invite all the villagers. The food always sounded so beautiful, like something lords and ladies would have eaten. I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to try strawberry cordial and candied chestnuts.”

“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged,” Alex hummed, tracing her finger across your knuckles. “Why did you like the monks so much? Or was it just the food?”

You sighed thoughtfully. “Well, I was very religious, you know that. I liked the order and the ritual of it. And I think I liked the monks because their whole lives revolved around order and ritual. Also, they had days where everyone just had to be quiet. How cool would that be!?”

Alex kissed you on the cheek. “That’s very autistic of you, darling.”

You blushed, and she kissed you again. “In a good way.”

You gently set the book in one of the boxes, but Alex snatched it out and held it to her chest.

“Mind if I borrow this?” she asked, standing to her feet and offering you her hand.

You took it and stood with her, smiling. “You, Dr. Alex Blake, want to read my children’s novel about monks?”

“I want to read anything that helps me get inside this beautiful head,” she said, grasping the sides of your face and kissing your forehead.

She looked so pretty and her hands were so soft against your skin, you just couldn’t help yourself. You gently grabbed her chin and pulled her in for a kiss. A real kiss, none of this flighty nonsense you’d been playing at all afternoon while you and Alex packed up your office. A kiss that had her fingertips digging into your skin, her tongue seeking entrance between your lips.

You pulled away for a brief moment, just to make sure that you weren’t going further than she wanted to, but the way her body lurched toward yours, the huff of breath she let out–that told you all you needed to know.

You smirked. “I thought we weren’t getting distracted, Alex,” you teased, your lips mere centimeters from hers.

You gasped as she pushed you back into the bookshelf, and one of the empty shelves pressed sharply into your back.

“It’s hardly my fault that you’re so distracting.” You felt her hands slip beneath your waistband and took that as all the encouragement you needed to start unbuttoning her silky, collared tank top.

“Ah!” she tutted, stilling your hands with her own. “One button, one book.”

“What?! No!”

“Yes, sweet girl.” Alex pulled away from you as quickly as you’d come together, and you missed the solidity of her against you. “You seem to need a little motivation, so I’m giving it to you. One book, one button. When the buttons are done, you’ll do one item, one article of clothing. And after that…” She gestured to the reading armchair that sat in the corner of your office. “I’m going to sit in that chair, completely naked, and read your little monks book until you’ve packed all this up. Understood?”

You pouted, looking at the disarray around you and knowing how unbearably aroused you’d be with Alex just sitting there. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Better get a move on, darling,” she whispered seductively in your ear. “I won’t wait forever.”

And with that, you began throwing books into boxes at random. You could worry about alphabetizing later. You had more important things to put in order this afternoon. Namely, your girlfriend.