#but when i noticed that i was like wait. this is a living breathing thinking conscious intelligent creature right here

[promptedwordsmith]

Could you do something NSFW for the lads boys for how they would approach a first time being intimate with the reader because she's nervous? Sensual reassurance is my bread and butter

I’m actually Ace so I'm not very good with NSFW stuff I'm so sorry! I did the best I could so I hope this is OK

Caleb

The glow of the TV flickered against the dimly lit living room, casting soft shadows across the walls. You sat cross-legged on the couch, fingers wrapped around the controller as your character sprinted across the screen. The game was absorbing, your focus sharp—until you felt a familiar presence settle beside you.

Caleb.

He had been quiet for a while, watching you play from a distance, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway. But now, he finally moved closer, sinking onto the couch with a sigh.

"You always this serious when you play?" His voice was warm with amusement, and when you glanced over, you caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You scoffed, eyes flicking back to the screen. "Only when I’m winning."

"That why you're frowning so hard?"

You nudged him with your elbow, but he caught your wrist before you could pull away, his touch light but lingering. You tensed—just barely—and he must have noticed because he let go just as easily, masking it with a small chuckle.

A moment passed. The game continued, the background noise filling the silence between you. But then, Caleb shifted, resting an arm along the back of the couch, fingers just barely brushing your shoulder.

"Hey." His voice was softer now, not teasing—something careful beneath it.

You didn’t look at him.

"Hmm?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "You ever think about… us?"

Your hands froze on the controller. Your character stood still on-screen, completely open for attack, but you didn’t care. The only thing you could focus on was the weight of his words, the way they lingered in the air, unspoken meanings woven between them.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to look at him.

He was already watching you.

Caleb, for all his usual confidence, looked… uncertain. His expression was unreadable, his fingers tapping idly against his knee like he was working through something in his head.

You swallowed. "I think about us all the time."

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his violet eyes. "I mean…" He exhaled, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes again. "Have you ever thought about—" He gestured vaguely between you both. "More?"

Your heart skipped.

Your throat went dry.

The game was still running, but it might as well not have been.

You weren’t naïve—you knew what he meant. And the fact that he was bringing it up like this, carefully, giving you an out if you wanted it, made something tighten in your chest.

You hesitated.

Not because you didn’t want it—because you did. God, you did. But there was something terrifying about the idea of that kind of closeness. You had spent so much of your life building walls, keeping people at arm’s length, making sure no one ever got close enough to hurt you.

And yet…

Here he was. Caleb. The one person you had ever let in. The one person who had waited.

You inhaled slowly. "I… don’t know."

His fingers twitched against his knee, but he nodded. He didn’t push, didn’t press—just let the words settle between you.

"That’s okay," he said, like he meant it.

Silence stretched, heavy and full of unsaid things.

You weren’t sure why you said it, or what made you finally brave enough, but before you could stop yourself, you spoke.

"I think I want to."

Caleb stilled.

It was subtle—the way his breath caught, the way his shoulders went rigid for half a second before he relaxed. But his eyes, always so unreadable, softened in a way you had never seen before.

"Yeah?" His voice was quiet.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Another pause. And then, instead of reaching for you, instead of pushing any further, he just… smiled.

"Okay."

And that was it.

No pressure. No expectations. Just an understanding.

And as you turned back to your game, trying to ignore the way your pulse hammered in your ears, you felt Caleb shift a little closer, his arm grazing yours, his presence warm and steady beside you.

Rafayel

The rhythmic sound of the brush against canvas filled the quiet room, blending with the distant hum of the city outside. You sat cross-legged on the floor, knees tucked to your chest, watching Rafayel as he painted. His entire world had narrowed down to the strokes of color spreading beneath his fingers, his golden eyes half-lidded in deep concentration.

You had always loved watching him paint. There was something intimate about it—the way his hands, so capable of destruction with his Evol, moved with infinite tenderness over the canvas. He painted as if each stroke mattered, as if every detail was a secret he was trying to put into form.

Tonight, though, something felt different.

The air between you held a strange weight. Rafayel wasn’t just painting—he was thinking. The slow, careful drag of his brush, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but held it back.

His strokes slowed further, his fingers hesitating before dipping the brush into a deep shade of red.

Then, without looking away from his work, he finally spoke.

"You always watch me so closely," Rafayel murmured, his voice quiet but sure. "It makes me wonder..."

You blinked. "Wonder what?"

His hand stilled. He set the brush down, rolling his shoulders back slightly before finally turning to look at you. His gaze was searching, as if studying you for something he wasn’t sure how to name.

"If you'd let me do the same," he said softly.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He wasn’t talking about painting.

The way his golden eyes lingered on you, the slight tension in his fingers as if resisting the urge to reach out—it was all so clear. Rafayel had always been affectionate in his own way, teasing touches, arms draped over your shoulders, lazy, warm hugs when he was feeling indulgent. But he had never pressed for more. Never asked.

Now, he was asking.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

Rafayel stood, slow and deliberate, and crossed the space between you. He crouched in front of you, close enough that you could see the fine flecks of color staining his fingers, the way his breath stirred the air between you. He reached out, hesitant, his fingertips barely ghosting along the side of your face, testing.

You swallowed hard, gripping the hem of your shirt between your fingers. The warmth of his touch was barely there, but it sent something unsteady through you. A tremor, a shift.

"I—" you started, unsure of what you wanted to say. Unsure of what you were allowed to say.

Rafayel didn’t push. He never did. He let the moment settle, let the space between you feel safe instead of overwhelming. His fingers traced lightly over your cheek, his thumb stopping just shy of your lips.

"You can say no," he murmured. "I just..." He exhaled through his nose, something almost frustrated in the way his brows pulled together. "I just wanted you to know that I—" He stopped himself, lips pressing into a thin line before he shook his head. "Never mind."

You felt the space he tried to put between you. Felt him withdrawing, giving you an easy way out.

You didn’t want him to.

You reached up, hesitant, and covered his hand with your own before he could pull away completely. His fingers tensed under yours, surprised, before slowly relaxing.

You still weren’t sure what to say.

But you didn’t have to.

"Okay," you whispered, barely louder than a breath.

His fingers twitched under your touch. His eyes flickered with something deep and unreadable, something almost fragile before his lips curved into the faintest smile.

"Okay," he echoed, voice low, reverent.

And then, he leaned in

Sylus

The dim glow of the fireplace flickered across the spines of Sylus’ vast collection of books, casting long shadows as you ran your fingers along the leather-bound covers. His study was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional crackle from the fire.

You had been in here dozens of times before, but tonight, something about the library called to you. Maybe it was the stillness of the night or the way the scent of old pages and Sylus’ cologne mixed in the air—musk, edelweiss, and something slightly metallic. Something undeniably him.

You tilted your head, squinting at a particular volume with a worn crimson spine. It looked important, but before you could reach for it—

"Curious thing, aren’t you?"

His voice was quiet, laced with amusement.

You jumped slightly, turning just in time to see Sylus leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted. His red eyes gleamed in the low light, watching you with something unreadable—something deep.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "You keep so many books locked away in here, yet I never see you actually read them. So, I figured I’d do some investigating."

Sylus stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence filling the space between you in an instant. You were suddenly very aware of how close you were to the shelves—trapped between aged paper and the man who had a habit of pulling you into his orbit.

He reached past you, plucking the crimson book from the shelf with ease. "I do read them," he murmured, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "Some hold knowledge worth revisiting… others are simply reminders of things I cannot forget."

Your eyes flickered up to his face, studying the way his expression softened, if only slightly. There was something intimate about seeing him like this, surrounded by things that mattered to him.

"...And which category does this one fall into?" you asked, nudging his arm playfully.

He closed the book with a quiet thump, his gaze drifting to yours. The amusement in his expression lingered, but there was something else beneath it now—something heavier.

"It reminds me of patience," he said slowly, slipping it back onto the shelf. "And restraint."

You swallowed, your breath hitching slightly as his fingers trailed along the spines beside it, his knuckles brushing lightly against your arm in the process.

He wasn’t touching you, not really, but the weight of his presence sent a shiver down your spine.

"I have been patient, haven’t I?" he mused, tilting his head. "I’ve given you time. Space. Waited for you to come to me when you were ready."

Your pulse quickened.

There it was. The thing that had lingered in the air between you both for weeks—unspoken, but always felt.

Sylus had never been the type to push, never the type to demand. He was calculating, careful. A man who could take what he wanted but chose to wait instead. And yet, tonight, here in the quiet of his study, with the scent of old books and firelight wrapping around you both like a secret—he was asking.

Not demanding. Not expecting. Just… asking.

You inhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. "You have," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

He studied you for a long moment, red eyes deep and endless, as if searching for something in your expression.

"And?" he prompted gently.

You hesitated. Not out of fear—no, you knew Sylus would never let harm come to you. But this was new.

The way he was looking at you. The way his voice dipped just enough to make your stomach twist. The way he was leaving the decision entirely in your hands.

You had spent so long resisting, so long pretending you didn’t notice the way he lingered, the way his fingers sometimes brushed against yours when he thought you wouldn’t catch it.

But you did.

And you wanted.

"...And I think I’m done making you wait," you murmured, voice softer now.

Sylus exhaled sharply—not out of frustration, but relief. His lips curved slightly, not quite a smirk, but something just as dangerous.

Then, as if sensing you were on the verge of bolting, he lifted a hand, slow and deliberate, letting his knuckles ghost over the side of your jaw.

"Are you sure, kitten?" he murmured.

Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs.

But despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, despite the way your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your sleeve—

You nodded.

Sylus let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and pleased. He lifted your hand slowly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.

"Good," he murmured, a glint in his eye.

Xavier

The gentle rustle of paper filled the quiet space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of your book as you leaned against the arm of the couch. The apartment was dimly lit, warm from the soft glow of the lamps Xavier had turned on earlier. He had been quiet for a while now, stretched out beside you, one arm resting on the back of the couch as he absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread on his sleeve. You were used to his quiet presence, but something about tonight felt different—like he was trying to find the right words.

You didn’t notice him shift closer at first, not until the couch dipped slightly beneath his weight. His fingers brushed the edge of your book, just enough to catch your attention.

“You’ve been reading that for a while,” Xavier murmured, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You hummed, turning the page. “It’s a good book.”

His lips quirked slightly, though there was something pensive in his expression as he exhaled through his nose. “You always say that.”

You turned to look at him then, noting the way his silver hair fell into his eyes, the slight crease between his brows. There was something on his mind, and now that he had your attention, he didn’t seem sure how to begin.

“…Is something wrong?” you asked, closing the book but keeping your finger between the pages.

Xavier was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering to the book in your lap before settling on you. His hands, always so steady, fidgeted with the hem of his sweater.

“I’ve just been thinking,” he admitted finally, his voice even softer now. “About us.”

Your stomach fluttered, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you nodded for him to continue.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His grip was warm, familiar, but there was a different kind of intent behind it this time.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” he said, thumb brushing over your knuckles, “but I—” He paused, took a breath, and tried again. “I want to be closer to you.”

The meaning behind his words settled in your chest, sending a shiver down your spine. You knew what he meant, and you could see from the way he held your hand so carefully—like he was afraid to push too far—that this was difficult for him to bring up.

You swallowed, heart pounding. “You mean…?”

Xavier nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Only when you’re ready. If you’re ready.”

He gave you space to respond, his grip just loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you squeezed his hand and looked down, lips parting as you tried to steady your breathing.

You weren’t scared, but the idea of being that vulnerable with someone—even someone like Xavier—was new. Unfamiliar. He seemed to sense your hesitation, because he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your fingers.

“There’s no rush,” he murmured against your skin. “I just…wanted you to know.”

Your heart softened at his words. He had never been the type to demand anything of you. He was patient, always waiting for you to meet him halfway, never asking for more than you were willing to give.

You took a deep breath, then finally met his eyes again, offering him a small but genuine smile. “I think…I’d like that.”

Xavier blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before his expression melted into something tender, something relieved. His other hand lifted to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin with infinite care.

“You sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m sure.”

And with that, Xavier smiled, his forehead pressing against yours as he let out a slow breath. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

And maybe to him, you were.

Zayne

living room was finally in order. You exhaled softly, surveying your work—the pillows fluffed, the coffee table wiped down, and even Zayne’s usually pristine bookshelves had been dusted without disturbing their meticulous arrangement. The faint scent of cleaning products lingered in the air, blending with the subtle notes of his usual amber cologne.

You stretched your arms above your head, satisfied, just as you heard quiet footsteps approaching from behind.

Zayne’s voice was smooth, edged with something unreadable. “I didn’t ask you to do all this.”

You turned to face him, catching the way his gaze flickered over the room before settling on you. He wasn’t scolding you—if anything, he looked almost… thoughtful.

“I know,” you said, brushing a stray hair from your face. “But you’ve been busy, and I had the time.”

Zayne hummed, stepping further inside. He was still dressed from work, though he had shed his usual long coat. The top button of his shirt was undone, and he carried himself with that same composed presence, yet there was something softer in the way he looked at you now.

“I appreciate it,” he admitted, glancing at the freshly organized space. His eyes returned to you, and there was a pause, as if he were debating something.

Then, in a quieter tone, he added, “You take care of things even when no one asks you to.”

You shrugged. “I just like helping.”

Zayne was quiet for a moment before he moved, his steps slow, deliberate. He stopped just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice measured. “About us.”

You swallowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh?”

His gaze searched yours. “I don’t want to rush anything.” A pause. “But I don’t want to ignore it either.”

Your fingers curled slightly against your palm. There was a weight to his words, but not an uncomfortable one. Just… careful.

“Zayne…” You hesitated, feeling the air between you grow heavier—not with tension, but with something else. Something patient.

He lifted a hand slightly, not quite touching you but close enough that the intent was clear. “I just need to know if… when the time comes, you’ll tell me what you want.”

Your heart beat a little faster. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding. Just waiting. Always waiting, as if making sure he wasn’t stepping over a line you hadn’t even drawn yet.

Your voice was softer when you answered.

“I will.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face. His hand finally closed the space, brushing lightly over yours. The touch was barely there, but it still sent a quiet warmth through you.

“And… if I said I was ready?” you asked, heartbeat loud in your ears.

Zayne held your gaze, his fingers resting just against yours, grounding.

“Then I’d ask you to stay.”

You exhaled, the weight in your chest shifting into something lighter, something certain.

“…Then I’ll stay.”

Zayne’s lips curved ever so slightly—a rare, quiet smile. His thumb brushed over your knuckles before he gave a small nod, as if sealing the unspoken promise between you.

And though the night had yet to unfold, in that moment, something had already begun.

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

She folded her hands to hide their shaking. "You can't marry a man you just met," she said. She kept her voice cold, her eyes icy.

The prince didn't flinch. In fact, he even offered a sardonic smile. He had Anna on his arm, the favor of the cabinet, and the love of the kingdom. The queen was merely a pest to squash.

Elsa couldn't breathe as the tension in the room turned sharp. The prince's invisible sword against her throat.

"You can if it's true love!" Anna said.

True love?

Anna knew nothing of it. She knew nothing of the Southern Isles, nothing of the man at her side.

Elsa hadn’t extended an invitation to their kingdom. Of course, though, they’d sent someone anyway. She couldn’t exactly tell them no without confirming what they already knew.

Ladies in long dresses and men in decorated coats spun around them, as though there was nothing wrong at all in the room. Bright music echoed through the ballroom. A steward offered Elsa a flute of some sort of drink.

Bile burned at her throat. She didn't take the flute. This was a game. Perhaps everything in this room was a game, set up by Prince Hans to reveal everything.

He had to know. His kingdom must have briefed him. Why else would he take advantage of her sister? He played the part well, but the coolness of his eyes was what gave him away. Barely noticeable to anyone else, but Elsa had grown skilled in reading people.

He didn't love Anna. He loved the idea of taking the throne and combining their kingdoms into one. He'd have control of the fjords, and that meant control of major trade routes and other kingdoms. He'd have control of Elsa.

His family had already staged the death of her parents. Why not use this chance--the first one in years--to take what they'd been after all this time?

The royal family of the Southern Isles knew of her magic. They'd been waiting for this opportunity since Iduna and Agnarr had died so conveniently in that shipwreck.

So why not send their youngest assassin now? He’d be reckless, perhaps, but he’d also be ruthless. Unyielding.

That’s what scared Elsa the most.

"Anna, what do you know of true love?" she asked softly.

"More than you." Anna stepped back, her cheeks flushing the way they always did when she was upset. "All you know is how to shut people out!"

A few dancers glanced their way.

"You asked for my blessing, and my answer is no. Now,” she steadied her emotions, “excuse me."

“Your Majesty, if I may—” An arm caught hers. His voice tremored slightly. The perfect anxious lover.

Her blood went colder than it already was. “No, you may not. I think you should go.”

A veiled warning, but a warning nonetheless. If he didn’t take it, then it was up to her to decide if she wished to engage him.

He didn’t say a word.

“The party is over, close the gates.”

“Elsa, no, no, wait—” Anna’s voice, her hand on Elsa’s. She turned to admonish her, and her glove came off in her sister’s hand.

Her breath stopped. She tucked her hand behind her, beneath her cloak, nails digging into flesh. If she created even a single snowflake, this carefully crafted illusion would come crashing down. “Give me my glove.”

“Elsa, please. Please.” She clutched the glove between pleading hands. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Her face began to crumple, and tension’s sword was digging into Elsa’s throat as more eyes fixed on the display in the center of the ballroom.

Shut everything out. That’s how she kept things under control. Shut her sister out, and that would protect the both of them. Anna would forget about Hans.

“Then leave.” The facade of indifference began to collapse inside of her as she moved towards the door. Anna stepped back, eyes wide.

“What did I ever do to you?” she snapped.

“Enough, Anna.”

The music had stopped. Everyone was watching now. Too many eyes, too much expectation, too much fear—

“No, why? Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?!”

“I said, enough!” Elsa spun. Anna didn’t know. She didn’t know of the magic, she didn’t know of the pressure, she didn’t know of the prince’s true intentions. If she was so set on naïveté, then—

“Sorcery.”

The sword finally stabbed, blade deep in her chest when the room came back into focus.

Sharp, dangerous icicles—a cage and a defense against those around her. Deadly tips preparing to cut into anyone who dared approach.

Because of her.

Prince Hans caught her eye, approval flashing across his face.

She choked.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t—she couldn’t even think. She shoved the doors open, instead, and ran from it all. Protect Arendelle by protecting it from herself.

Shut everything out, and nothing bad can happen. Conceal it.

Let Hans come after her, and leave Arendelle and her sister alone.

That’s what needed to happen.

You are the elder sibling of the Hero. They want your blessing to marry the Villain they originally set out to destroy; now sitting across from you at the same table.

[lyn31]

Good Morning?

Summary: What else is better to start your day than a morning blowjobs? Well in this case, giving one instead.

Pairing: Zayne x MC

CW: Blowjobs, Somnophilia, Established Relationship (dating)

Ao3 link

Your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is the gray ceiling of your bedroom, When did I get here? You think to yourself.

Yesterday, you had your day off—well, as much of a day off as a Hunter can get, of course—but there was no emergency. The same can't be said for your boyfriend, though.

For the past few weeks, it has been very hard to see each other, even under the same roof. Yesterday was the same—Zayne stayed at the hospital all day, and the only communication between you two was a brief message. He came home late at night, and you ended up waiting for him in the living room.  

Looking to your right, you see his sleeping figure, peacefully lying facing you. His hazel eyes are hidden behind his closed eyelids, his usually neat hair is slightly tousled, and his thin lips are just barely open, releasing soft breaths.  

You think to yourself, How can someone be this gorgeous? You’re fairly sure your current state is nowhere near as neat as Zayne’s. Reaching for his face, you gently touch his cheek—your favorite morning routine. And just like always, Zayne leans into your touch. You never know if he does it in his sleep or if he's awake and just doesn’t say anything.  

Sitting up slowly, you glance at the holographic clock on the bedside table. 4 a.m. No wonder he's still asleep.

Just as you're about to go back to sleep, Zayne stirs, nudging the blanket and making it slip halfway off his body.

You hold back a snort and are just about to fix the blanket when you notice something between his legs—his bulge, visible and definitely ready to burst. You freeze, staring at it, then back at his face. After a few seconds, you bite your lip. Closing your eyes, you think, I mean… wouldn’t that be a good morning? But is it technically non-consensual? Would this be okay?  

Before you can change your mind, you slowly crawl down between Zayne’s legs. Your mouth suddenly feels dry as you carefully reach for his pants, your eyes flickering to his face. So far, so good.  

Moving as slowly as possible, you begin to tug the fabric of his pants down, revealing more of his skin little by little. When they’re finally low enough, you pause, your fingers grazing the waistband of his boxers. Another glance at his face—still asleep.  

You do the same with his boxers, carefully sliding them down until his smooth skin is fully exposed. As you free his shaft, it springs up, standing firm against his lower abdomen. Your fingers unintentionally brush against it, making you swallow hard.  

Still watching his sleeping face, you gently wrap your fingers around the base, trailing them up along his length toward the tip. His breathing shifts—just slightly faster now—and that only excites you more.  

Your fingers tighten around him, moving slowly at first, barely applying pressure. But perhaps that lack of pressure is what sends a shiver through his body, goosebumps rising along his skin. With a subtle motion, you increase the grip, your strokes growing more deliberate. His breathing turns ragged, his chest rising and falling unevenly as your pace quickens, adjusting just the way you know he likes it.  

Slowing down again, you watch his brows furrow, a faint wrinkle forming on his forehead, damp with a light sheen of sweat. You pause for a few seconds, waiting to see if he’ll wake, but his eyes remain closed, even as his hips occasionally stir beneath your touch.  

Glancing down, you notice a glistening bead of his essence pooling at the tip, slowly trailing downward. Without a second thought, you lean in and run your tongue over it, licking it clean.  

Oops. 

Your eyes dart back to his face at the sound of his groan. Frozen mid-lick, you wait, heart pounding, to see if he’s finally waking up.  

But he doesn’t.  

You don’t know why you’re so nervous—if he did wake up, you doubt he’d be mad. Still, the thrill of touching him without his conscious permission sends a little zap of nerves through you, mixed with something even more exhilarating.  

Emboldened by the thought, you drag your tongue along the length of his shaft, from base to tip, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive spot. You always enjoy teasing him like this, loving the way he usually reacts with a heated gaze and that deep voice murmuring, Is this how you’re going to play it? But this time, there’s no teasing remark—only low groans slipping past his parted lips.

His hips shift again, almost as if urging you to take him fully. But you keep your slow, torturous pace, your tongue flicking over his heated skin, hands gripping his thighs to hold him steady. Then, finally, you take him into your mouth.  

“Ugh…”  

His groan is louder now, his body tensing at the sudden warmth.  

You feel him throb, growing even harder inside you, his breath hitching each time you quicken your movements. His body is so responsive—even in sleep. And then, just as you sense the familiar pulse, he spills inside your mouth.  

Swallowing everything, you gradually slow down, still keeping him between your lips for a moment longer. Even as you pull away, you savor the lingering taste of him.  

Glancing up at his face, you see his expression still slack with sleep—lips parted, brows furrowed slightly. But then, something shifts.  

His body tenses again.  

And when you look at his eyes, you meet a heated, hazel gaze staring right back at you.

Sweat glistens on his forehead, his breath still unsteady as a slight curve tugs at his lips.  

“Having fun, darling?”

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK-A-CARD: How do strangers really see you ✮⋆˙

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I. II. III.

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How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile I

This pile is drama. This is walking into a room and immediately giving off main character energy, but not the soft, romantic lead kind—nah, this is the tortured, brooding protagonist who looks like they have a backstory. The type of energy that makes strangers take one glance and go, "Damn, what have they been through?" if I really had go give an example to an Immediate Thought a Stranger Has Upon Seeing You: "Are they okay?" (Which—valid.) There’s something about your aura that feels heavy, like you’ve lived a hundred lives before this one, and each one had some level of heartbreak, sacrifice, and major character growth. you’re giving poetic melancholy But in the most captivating way possible. it's like "sad but make it aesthetic"💅 At first glance, people don’t see you as someone easy to approach. Not because you’re outright intimidating, but because there’s an untouchable quality to you. You exude a quiet, mysterious presence, like someone deep in thought, caught between realities. People assume there’s something weighing on your mind, even if you’re just thinking about what to eat for dinner. Your vibe makes people curious, but also a little cautious. You give off the impression that you’ve seen things—felt things—that most people could never even begin to comprehend. You might notice that when strangers interact with you, they either: Treat you gently, like they don’t want to disturb whatever deep thoughts you’re lost in. Secondly, Lowkey test your patience, because they assume you’re detached or unbothered, and they want to see if you’ll react. Either way, people don’t take you lightly. You see things from a different perspective, possibly because life forced you to??? I can see a majority of this pile is a huge fan of art, poetry or sad music or they may even do these things. You’ve been through situations where you felt like an outsider like you were left in the cold—physically, emotionally, or even financially. The full picture? You carry the past with you, but you don’t let it define you. However, people can see the weight of your experiences, whether you intend to show it or not. You might be the kind of person who has learned to walk away from things before they destroy you completely. It’s not that you want to leave, but when you sense that something (or someone) is bringing you down, you don’t wait for the final blow—you detach, emotionally or physically. And that? That makes people fear losing you, even if they don’t know you well. Like, I want to grab you by the shoulders and be like, “Tell me everything. Who hurt you? Who made you strong?” You’re the kind of person who doesn’t seek attention, but you get it anyway. You don’t have to be loud—people just know there’s something about you that’s different. And they want to figure you out, even though you probably make that damn near impossible. There’s also an artistic, philosophical quality to you. Even if you don’t see yourself as an artist, you feel things in a way that most people don’t. i see that some of you may be even an INFJ???

You, my dear, are the walking embodiment of a Lana Del Rey song—tragic, beautiful, a little detached, but also dangerously alluring. Strangers don’t just notice you—they remember you. Even if they never talk to you, they’ll go home and be like, “That one person… I wonder what their story is.” So my advice? If you ever feel like people misunderstand you, don’t stress about convincing them otherwise. The right ones will see you without you having to explain a damn thing. And the ones who don’t? Well, they were never meant to get past the first page of your story anyway.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile II

Alright, bestie, let’s talk. If I saw this pile laid out in front of me, the immediate thought running through my head would be: "Damn. This person has seen some things, done some things, and is probably carrying a whole season’s worth of plot twists in their aura." You, my dear, give off an energy that is intense, hardworking, and slightly intimidating, but in a way that makes people lowkey obsessed with you. Like, imagine someone walking into a room with the aura of a self-made boss—someone who’s been through the trenches, built themselves up from scratch, and now operates with that sexy, quiet resilience that makes people both admire you and fear you just a little. That’s you. That’s this pile. People take one look at you and immediately clock you as someone who does not play around. You exude discipline, endurance, and a "grind never stops" energy that can make people feel like they need to fix their whole life just by standing next to you. You know those people who just look like they have a five-year plan? That’s the vibe you radiate. you’re that person—always working on something, always strategizing, always looking ahead. You don’t give off ‘casual small talk’ energy—you give off ‘I have a deadline and no time for nonsense’ energy. You might have an ‘old soul’ aura—like someone who’s been knocked down a million times but got back up every single time. That kind of energy makes people admire you, but it also means they might hesitate to approach you because damn, what have you seen??? Ohhh, bestie. Here’s the tea. This card in the mix tells me that, despite your workaholic, ‘I have goals’ energy, you have this magnetic, lowkey addictive presence. People may see you as someone who tempts them—not in an overt, flirty way (unless you choose to be), but in a "I don’t know why I’m so drawn to them" kind of way. You carry an air of mystery, danger, or intensity that makes people want to know more, but also feel slightly afraid of what they’ll uncover.

The way you move through the world is purposeful. You’re not just existing; you’re building something, always working toward something bigger. You’re the kind of person who might be polite and civil, but have true access to your inner world? That’s earned, not given. And honestly? Good for you.( I am In LOVEEE with this pile lol 😂) Maybe people don’t expect it at first, but once they get to know you, they realize you are not as predictable as you seem. Oh, I love this pile. Y’all are the type of people who command respect just by existing. You don’t even have to say much—your energy does the talking for you.

You’re the people who bosses and authority figures actually fear a little( I always wanted that for myself😭), because you give off the vibe that you could overthrow the entire system if you really wanted to. You’re also the type of person that people regret underestimating, because when you prove them wrong, you do it flawlessly.That being said, I also feel like you don’t let yourself relax enough. Like, the Eight of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, and Nine of Wands together? Damn, bestie, do you ever take a break? Or are you constantly grinding, constantly proving yourself, constantly thinking, "What’s next?" (Go touch some grass. Drink some water. Take a nap, I beg.)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile III

Alright, babes, buckle up because this pile? This pile is a walking contradiction, an experience. Pile 3 is the most intuitive & unreadable of all the three. You ever meet someone who’s all bright smiles and warm energy, but there’s this undeniable weight behind their eyes? You give off an aura that’s both guarded and inviting. You've faced betrayals, heartbreaks, disappointments—but you didn’t let it break you. Nah, you built walls, but not to keep people out completely… just to make sure they don’t get in too fast. There’s a hesitancy in your energy, a subtle checking-the-room moment before you fully let yourself relax. But then—BAM—the Sun bursts through. Ohhh, this is what makes you so intriguing. The Sun is the only major arcana card of this pile so your dominant energy is really bright and welcoming, it is pure, unfiltered light. When you smile? It’s infectious. When you laugh? It makes people feel like they just witnessed something rare, something precious. You radiate warmth, but there’s depth behind it. You’re not the type to sit down and trauma-dump to strangers, but your energy? It speaks. It whispers. There’s something about the way you carry yourself—the slight distance in your eyes when you zone out, the way your smile sometimes doesn’t reach all the way, the way you watch people instead of immediately throwing yourself into the chaos. You know things without needing to be told. You read energy like it’s your first language. Strangers can feel that you see through the surface-level bullsh*t. You don’t just listen—you absorb. You analyze. You clock people’s tells before they even realize they have them. And honestly? That can be intimidating as hell. But here’s the thing—you don’t use this power to manipulate or expose. Nah, you protect with it. That’s the Sun and the Nine of Wands working together. You radiate warmth and kindness, but if someone tries to cross you? They’ll quickly learn there’s a fortified wall behind that glow. A wall built from experience, from lessons learned the hard way. If you picked this pile, you’re the kind of person that leaves an impact. People don’t just forget you. Even if they only interact with you briefly, there’s this lingering thought—like, “What’s their story?” You make people curious, but you’re not out here spilling your soul to just anyone. And honestly? I respect that. But here’s the real kicker—you’re not just your past. You’re not just the heartbreaks, the lessons, the wounds. You are the Sun, too. And the Sun in this spread tells me that despite everything, you still believe in joy. You still find ways to laugh, to love, to spread warmth. That’s what makes you magnetic. That’s why strangers are drawn to you—they can feel that you’re not just surviving. you’re the mystery wrapped in light. You’re the soft warrior. You’re the one who sees but does not always speak. You are guarded but generous, intense yet kind, and above all, you are unforgettable. And honestly? That’s one of the most powerful energies a person can have.

I’d bet money that a lot of you, Have resting deep-in-thought face, Have had people randomly trauma-dump on you because they feel like you’d get it, Feel misunderstood in social situations, Have struggled with isolation (self-imposed or otherwise). Pile 3 is a perfect balance of both the above piles. No matter which pile, these are the kinds of people that others don’t forget.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[more-mara]

NO WAIT please talk more about WAG!Carlos because I actually REALLY LOVE WAG!Carlos and it's been on my mind for a long time and I felt like I'm alone in this. I really like the established relationship idea of Oscar looking mighty walking alone in the paddock, but once Carlos is there, walking alongside Oscar and holding his hand, everyone can see who's the dom and who's the babygirl 😂 not that dom dom but like who tops and bottoms.

In my mind Carlos is a man in finance or consulting. Because, damn, everytime I picture him in fitted shirts and dark coloured slacks my mind goes brrr. They share an apartment in London and Oscar always goes back home after races to him. Carlos visits Oscar for races everytime he can (but he always makes time for Silverstone), and everytime he visits, the journalists and social media literally go very crazy about "Piastri's very hot, sculpted by the God himself, Spanish boyfriend". Oh and Oscar claiming the Spain GP as his home race because "my partner is Spanish and he lives and breathes Real Madrid and I'm very sure I'll marry him so".

I can't picture of the announcement of Oscar coming out, but I think I like the idea of soft launching first through his instagram or maybe Estrella Galicia makes Oscar and Lando talk Spanish slangs and Oscar aces all the questions and be like "My boyfriend is Spanish and he likes to teach me Spanish terms" something like that. Then boom Carlos coming to a race with him.

Eventhough Carlos is the one who tops and is very good in bed, but him also being soft and fluffy and calls Oscar with pet names in Spanish (tesoro, cariño, mi amor, etc) and cooks for him everytime Oscar's back home.

I can picture Oscar on break, dumping holiday pictures on his instagram and everyone goes crazy of Carlos shirtless and flaunting his abs and his super fit body in one (or many) of the pictures. Carlos having his instagram private and everyone will be asking Oscar to let his boyfriend open his instagram for public lol.

I'm going to stop because if I continue, I'll literally dump my thoughts (including the NSFW ones) and this ask will be very long lol thank you for reading my rants!

Oh, you’ve been THINKING about this lol. Anon I love this please continue. Side note, I had written an entire response to this once already but tumblr deleted it 🤡 I can’t remember half the shit I originally said but here we go lmao

I 100% see the man in finance vibes I just wanted to go against the grain and say something else lol but I absolutely imagine him in some white collar job. He constantly wears tailored suits, even in hot weather which Oscar will complain to no end about but ultimately it won’t change Carlos’ mind because it’s his brand.

Oscar gets a little irked by it because he’s supposed to be the celebrity, yet he give off so much just a guy energy when he’s walking hand in hand with Carlos. Oscar highkey loves the attention which is why it bothers him so much when Carlos steals it from him.

In comes the Spanish gp and Carlos is in yet another equivalent price of a mortgage suit. Osc saying it’s “basically my home gp now, I guess,” with a giggle as he eyes the screen where Carlos is clapping and smirking when he notices the attention on him- sending a little wink towards the camera that has Oscar stumbling over his words.

The media always goads Oscar for being “the girlfriend” in the relationship (let’s be real, media love to heteroify queer relationships and would 100% do it to them) but it’s always water off Oscar’s back as he redirects the conversation to how sexy and successful his boyfie is, “He’s just bought a new property in New York 🙂,”

Regarding coming out, Oscar is absolutely of the “I don’t need to come out, I’m just gonna live my life,” stance. He probably drops a “my partner is opening a new business back in London, he’d definitely know better than me if that’s a good idea,” when an interviewer asks about whether he’d buy a house in Monaco. Twitter goes crazy “DID OSCAR JUST SAY HE???!!” and that’s that, now Carlos shows up everywhere he can to show off who Oscar managed to pull.

Oscar loves the pet names but can’t stand it when Carlos uses them in public- goes beet red when Carlos calls him ‘mi amor’ when speaking with a journalist.

NSFW because I can’t help myself- Carlos always refuses to fuck Oscar on a race weekend because “I cannot affect your performance,” and Oscar fucking hates it. Oscar is lowkey needy in bed and can be a little insatiable at times, especially during a stressful week (e.g. a race week) so he goes out of his way to tease Carlos every chance he gets- even in public to see how long it will take for Carlos to snap. Except Carlos never does and remains firm in his stance which Oscar whines and complains about constantly until Sunday night when Carlos finally touches him and fucks the weeks brattiness out of him

Side note, Carlos is good in bed, like- really good, to the point where Oscar can’t even think about anything except for Carlos’ insane dick game. Carlos is experienced in so many ways that Oscar gets insanely jealous every time he thinks about it- getting angry at the thought of Carlos fucking anyone besides him. It’s a funny contrast because Oscar was basically celibate when he and Carlos first met and their first time in bed had Oscar experiencing pleasures he never though possible.

And yeah, Oscar just fully posting thirst traps of Carlos to make everyone jealous that only he gets to see it on a daily basis.

[weird-is-life]

hii! could i request an aaron x reader where you're in desperate need of a hug and you ask him for one after a stressful case? (he could totally use one too) ty!! 🤍

Ty for this cute request! Warnings: bau!reader, tough case, reader is mentally exhausted,(0.6k)

This case was tough. You don't know what it was that hit you so hard about it, but it did. You tried to relax on the flight home, but the music didn't help, and neither anything that usually does.

Most of the team goes back to the office, paperwork waiting for all of you. You sit down in your chair, ready to get lost in all of the paperwork.

Hours later or days, there's a tap on your shoulder. You look up, blinking the soreness from your eyes. Aaron is standing next to your chair with his suitcase in his hand.

"Y/N, what are you still doing here?" Aaron questions, usually he's the last one here.

"Sorry, Hotch. I just got carried away with the work, I think," you check the clock on your desk, wincing when you see that it's almost midnight.

"C'mon, I'll take you home," you would protest if you weren't so tired that you would probably crash your car. And if it wasn't Aaron who said it.

"I can take uber, Hotch. It's fine really. You should hurry home to Jack," you try to reason with him as you pack your things.

"Jack is with Jessica, and besides you live on my way home so I don't mind at all, c'mon," Aaron patiently waits while you slowly get up from your chair, and move to stand beside him.

Aaron notices that you are unusually quiet as you walk towards the elevator. He contemplates on whether he should say something or just let it go.

The elevator dings open, and you both step inside. You look like a kicked puppy, and to be honest Aaron feels the same.

"Hey, are you okay?" Aaron finally asks. You only look at him, and he already knows the answer to that.

"Yeah," you lie," just tired." Aaron sees right through you. Not because he can obviously read it from your face, but because the case hit him hard as well.

"Me too," he thinks what he should say to make you feel better. There's just something about you, and he can't stand seeing you so upset.

"But..." he starts," If there's anything I can do, y/n. I'm here for you as-as your friend," Aaron ignores the slight hurt in his chest when he says the word 'friend'.

You just nod. You don't really know what you need right now. Your mind is a mess, and Aaron soft smile isn't helping the mess at all.

The elevator finally gets to the lowest floor, and when you and Aaron move to get out of it Aaron's hand brushes yours.

You realise how much you crave the warmth of a touch after this case as you trail after Aaron. The walk to his car seems endless. You can't decide if you can just ask him for a hug, if it wouldn't be too weird.

"Okay, what is it?" Aaron notices your the wheels turning in your head anxiously.

You let out a deep breath, and look at him. He looks as pained as you feel, pained that you won't tell him what's wrong.

"C-Could I...." you start sheepishly," can I have a hug?" If he looks confused by your request he doesn't show it. His face fixed in his grumpy expression ad always.

He drops his bag on the ground, and then his strong hands are around you. You immediately melt with his touch, your arms locking around his torso.

Aaron shouldn't like having you in his arms as much as he does. You are perfect fit, like two pieces of puzzle melting together.

Aaron, selfishly, lets you hold him however long you want. He would let you do it even the whole night.

You stand there for long minutes. When you finally let go, Aaron doesn't say anything only drags you inside the car. He doesn't say anything even when he drives you home with your cheeks red as tomatoes the whole time.

[saoirsezz]

ᯓ LOVESICK | 리키

PAIRINGS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ grumpy!riki x sunshine!reader

GENRE ⊹ ��� ˖ fluff, grumpy x sunshine

WARNINGS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ light swearing

SYNOPSIS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ convincing riki to be partners with you seemed to be light work, maybe because actually getting to be his friend takes up 99% of your energy.

🂱 part two of “beneath the ice” !

RIKI HAD HIS HEADPHONES ON, blasting clearly loud music that was seeping through. he leaned against his chair, sketching lightly on his pad. you tapped him gently on the shoulder— he looks up at you, the light in his eyes making you a bit flustered.

“sorry.. did I disturb you?” you say, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

he puts his head back down, resuming his agenda. but replies, “no, you're good.” you let go of the breath you didn't even know you were holding. “oh, thank god. anyway uhm.. where do you want to work on the project? a cafe or somewhere out is good, but I don't think we'd get to work on it properly with a crowd around us. and in my house or yours may give us a better privacy, and stuff.. but still! I'll be alright where you're more comfortable.”

he paused for a moment, probably debating in his mind. “yours,” he said. it's really a handful with him barely saying sentences. but atleast you can talk to him. you just hope he'll warm up more as time passes and you can actually get a good, working conversation.

“alright, I'll meet you by the gates after class.”

you stood outside the gate, scrolling through your phone while you waited for riki. soon enough, tiny drops of rain hit your head. it's raining. you quickly grab an umbrella and shield yourself, though you start to worry about riki, if he had an umbrella. since the umbrella you had could only fit one.

a little while later, he tapped your shoulder, revealing him with his hoodie, the hood up on his head. “do you not have an umbrella?” you asked, he shook his head. you just nodded and proceeded to lead him to your house, walking slowly as the rain poured slowly. you tried your best to shield both you & him, but his taller figure makes it hard for you.

he notices your struggle, and takes the umbrella without a word and holds it for the both of you. you look up at him, seeing him covering you with your umbrella, but due to it being just enough for one person, you see the rain still hitting him. causing one side of him to be damp and the other to be dry.

“hey, you're getting we—”

“I'm fine.”

his tone wasn't rude or anything, but you knew better than to fight it. luckily, your apartment wasn't that far.

you both arrived soon enough, and you pet semi (your cat) before finally settling in.

“uh, riki?” you glance at him, his figure sitting on the couch.

“I have some spare clothes from my brother. he doesn't live with me, don't worry. he just has some here incase he visits, go and borrow some so you don't have to stay in that wet uniform. you can return it to me the next day.” you said as you handed him your brother's clothes. he mumbled a quick thanks before changing in the bathroom.

you waited until he finished before you started the project, opening your textbooks & doing some research.

TWO HOURS LATER

it's currently 8:06pm. you looked at the clock then back to your work. you've done quite alot in terms of work, but if it means any progress on you and riki's 'friendship', then nothing was made. in the whole hours of working, only small talks like “pass me that,” or “are you done with that?”. you didn't want to pressure him nor force him, but it really was frustrating you how difficult this was.

“it's a bit late. we can finish this the next day or two, the rain stopped too. do you want to go home?”

he got up and nodded, “yeah. I'll get going. thanks, __.” you smiled, leading him out the door.

“text me when you get home.”

“okay.”

UNKNOWN CONTACT: it's me, riki. I'm home.

to your surprise, he actually texted you. you grinned.

CHEOL Y/N: oh, that's good!

[CHEOL Y/N SET NICKNAME TO 'RIKI']

[RIKI REACTED '♡' TO YOUR MESSAGE.]

you smiled, knowing you'll be going to school on the next day with a grin on your face. you tucked yourself to bed, anticipating tomorrow.

tomorrow came, you got yourself ready, getting in your school uniform and tying your hair. you walked to school, as you got there, you already started looking for a specific dark haired boy— riki.

you went to the class, confused to not see him in his seat. he's usually early, earlier than everyone. this was new. classes passed, and he still was nowhere to be found. you were starting to get worried.

your lectures ended, it was 5:05pm. you quickly texted riki.

CHEOL Y/N: riki? why were you absent?

RIKI: oh, sorry. I got sick because of the rain last night. I had a fever and a cold. sorry.

seeing this you instantly made your way to his house. grabbing your bags and heading your way.

the doorbell rang, riki wondered who it could be. to his surprise, he saw you—standing right infront of him as he opened his door.

“are you okay- was it my fault? 'm sorry! my umbrella was small, I'll repay you, I promise. I'll take care of yo—”

“how'd you get my adress?” you chuckled nervously, embarrassed. “.. well, i asked the professor. he has records of student's addresses in case of emergency. and I knew you wouldn't give it to me if I asked..” you rubbed the back of your neck.

“but anyway! how are you feeling?” you turned to him, he looked really tired. “I'm fine.”

you put the back of your hand to his forehead, feeling his temperature. “you're not, you feel hot. go back to bed I'll prepare your meds. I bought some on the way.” you exclaimed, shuffling through your bag.

“but—” before he could protest, you were already leading him up his bed.

after taking his meds, you put a damp lukewarm towel on his forehead to aid with the fever.

“just, relax. you won't get better if you don't get rest.”

you say as you sit at the chair near the bed, “I'll go home once you sleep. I need to make sure you actually listen.” you laugh.

“okay ma'am,” he joked, closing his eyes.

time passed and he started to make little snores. you observed his features, this was the first time you saw him this close.

you didn't realise how detailed and beautiful he actually was. your heart pumps a little faster.

you didn't realise you slowly started drifting to sleep, resting your head on the edge of the bed.

THE NEXT DAY

he stirs in his sleep as he woke up, surprised to see you sleeping on the edge of the bed with your body still on the chair. though, he figured you got tired after taking care of him. it confused him why you cared so much. others would've loved if he weren't present in the class anyway.

he glanced at you, noticing your half parted lips and your chest rising up and down. he would be lying if he said he didn't find it endearing.

he stayed still for a few minutes, just loving the comforting silence between the you & him world

© work of saoirsezz | sho

[little-glitter-kitten]

I Think The Apple's Rotten Right To The Core Pt 6

Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?

(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)

TW: Pseudo-incest, dub-con, somnophilia, sexting, semi-public sex,  possessive Caleb, Obsessed Caleb, Yandere Caleb.

YOUR POV:

You sit at the dinner table, trying your best to make conversation with your Grandmother while studiously avoiding Caleb's eyes.

You swear you could feel every time his gaze landed on you, the weight of it feeling almost as heavy as a physical touch. Your breath would catch in your throat whenever your eyes locked and you were beginning to grow frustrated.

You were more than frustrated, actually.

After Caleb left your bedrooom and went to help set the table like nothing had even happened, you spent the next five minutes wiping the traces of his cum off of you. You didn't even have enough time to bring yourself to orgasm before Grandma was calling for you to come downstairs and eat.

To say that you were pent up was an understatement.

Caleb was busy telling your Grandma about his old high school friends while you pushed your salad around your plate and tried not to sulk.

"...they split a few years ago and went their seperate ways. Last I heard, she was back in her parents house and unemployed but he met someone else and is now engaged." He told them.

"At least he got his happy ending, though." You said nonchalantly, stabbing a piece of lettuce with more force than was necessary. "Too bad about her."

You felt his eyes snap back to you and you swear you could feel your body grow heavier under Calebs intense scrutiny. You risked a glance up to see him looking at you, rubbing his chin as though pondering something.

"Well, maybe, if she wasn't so intent on playing the victim card, she would realise that good things..." You felt his foot slide up you leg under the table. "...come to those who wait."

Just as suddenly as it appeared, his foot was gone and Caleb had risen from his chair to take his dishes to the sink. Leaving you to sit and stew in your rapidly swirling thoughts.

After dinner, the three of you had retired to the living room. Grandma and Caleb sat at opposite ends of the three-seater while you occupied the wingback chair that sat perpendicular to the couch. It was known as your chair and no one would dare sit in it while you were home.

Relaxing into the seat, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone as Grandma continued her latest knitting project and Caleb lay back on the sofa, watching the TV.

Though the room was filled with a comfortable silence, you were anything but comfortable. You were using your phone as a way to distract yourself from the man sitting right 6 feet away from you, who seemed to be completely unaffected.

Just as you were beginning to feel your nerves settle, your phone vibrated in your hand, a drop-down notification appearing and informing you of a text from Caleb.

You steal a glance at him, his eyes focused on the TV but his phone sat in front of him, face down on the couch. Looking back down at your phone, you begin to read.

Caleb: 'Is my sweet, little pipsqueak sulking the corner?  ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)'

You ignore him and continue scrolling but it wasn't long before you see another text appear.

Caleb: 'I can see you've read my message. Giving me the silent treatment, pipsqueak?'

You knew it was incredibly immature of you but you knew how much he hated being ignored. Looking up at him, you find his gaze already on you. With a bored expression on your face, you lock your phone screen and place it on the chair in front of you before turning your attention to the television.

Very quickly, you felt your phone buzz once...then twice....then three times.

Looking over, you see him typing furiously, his brow furrowed in a mix on concentration and...anger?

Feeling like you may have pushed him to far, you pick up your phone and read the messages.

Caleb: 'Is this because we didn't get time for you to have your fun?'

Caleb: 'Because, it sounds like you had plenty of fun last night... I heard you taking care of yourself after I left the room. How many times did you come? I counted at least 6. Well...from what I could hear from your bedroom door, anyway.'

Caleb: 'You always were a brat when you didn't get your way.'

You couldn't help the audible scoff that escaped your mouth. The nickname 'brat' was always his go to when he was upset with you.

Beginning to feel pins and needles, you uncrossed your legs to give them a stretch before crossing them again. Risking a glance at Caleb, you blanched. The tips of his ears were bright red, the creases between his eyebrows becoming more pronounced and the veins in his neck standing out.

Is he really that angry from a bit of silent treatment?

Caleb: 'Did you seriously just flash me after ignoring me, pipsqueak?'

As much as you wanted to reply and deny it, you were too stubborn to concede defeat and stop the silent treatment. You sat, watching Caleb's typing bubble appear, holding your breath.

Caleb: 'You little cocktease! If you know what's good for you, you will lock your door tonight and pray to God I don't get in.'

[lucy---lou]

Part 19 Lucys-hdg-story

We arrive in the hab again after being tied up in vines and 'force' carried by Mistress. We are placed onto the couch but vines still pin us down.

"Are my little rebellious girls going to behave again?"

"Yes Mistress, I promies", Ellie begins.

"Yes misstr - Mi - mistress - miss Du-ralis, won't happen again", I stutter. The xenodrugs seem to have worn off.

"You could have continued calling her Mistress, silly"

Oh shit I've been calling her Mistress all day and I didn't even notice. I feel my face start to burn. The drugs stopped my fears and then I just said anything. "Kitten?" Aaaahh I even told Marie that she was hot and I kissed Ellie. I - aaaahhhh. Something boops my nose.

"I - yeah what?"

"You drifted off for a while", Mistress smiles, "Anyways I'd like to know why you suddenly started calling me Mistress"

"I-"

"I-"

"I-ehm"

"I-"

I grab the shark plushie, burry my face into it and curl into a ball.

"NO can't tell!"

"My kitten please tell me or I have to get it out of you"

I stayed curled into a ball. I don't want her to drug me, but I really don't want to say it myself, I can't, it won't come out. There a thick clog in my throat. I sob into the plushie.

"Oh petal I'm sorry but this is the best for you, trust me", she injects me, "So why did you call me mistress?"

"It already started before that. Ever since I cuddled your core. Everytime I think about you Mistress pops into my head and I have to think hard to find your name in my head. I hid it before because otherwise you would domesticate me, sure that'll be really hot and thats what I want and I-", I shove my hand in my mouth to keep myself from talking. My face is on fire. Vines pin me down again

"Please continue petal"

"On drugs I didn't worry about anything and so everytime I thought of you Mistress would come to mind and I'd just say it, oh and Mistress is really hot when she pins me down", I squirm in place trying to escape, the vines tighten further. I try to fight the drugs.

"Anything else on your mind kitten?"

"Please never leave me. I can't live alone. Not after everything. I need you", I start crying, "I need to be with you, feel you. Be with Ellie cuddle her, let her make me blush and and and pleeeaaaseeeeee make it end. I can't do this anymore it's to much. Just make me your pet already, take these stupid thoughts away. Take me pleeeaseeeee, pretty pleeaseeeee. I need to be your pet. aighausc jqbwicuf hwkdicjfb wjwixjdbwiw cjwbwidkdnfje, pleeeeaaaseeeeeeee", word leave me as I completely loose myself. I feel a prick everything falls away.

"My little kitten, this is everything I wished for since I met you at the park. You were always going to be mine and only mine. I love you my kitten"

Vines rush towards me possessively touching me, cradling me, pulling me into her. I feel multiple pricks. Her biorhythm washes over me, drowns me in her. Her vines feel amazing. Her eyes are beautiful. Everything feels amazing. It feels amazing giving up.

It goes on for a while.

"You two are having fun, but I'd like my pinnate too!"

"How cruel of me separating two pinnates", she laughs.

She is placed onto me and franticly starts kissing me until she's out of breath. I'm to high to do anything other than wiggle and moan in pleasure and whine when it stops.

"Gosh finally! I've been waiting so long for you, my pinnate, and now I can kiss her as much as I want!"

I completely bliss out. Mistress said something about a contract. Am I not to high for a contract, I don't care. Florets don't care, their owners manage everything. I just have to look cute and cuddle, that's all I ever have to do ever again. And thats exactly what I do until I fall asleep in her vines.

-Well she finally broke. But don't worry I still have a few ideas left.

[dandelionwishh]

Left Behind: Pt. 2

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader (Ft. Choso angst)

Summary: You waited for him. He never noticed. Is it too late now?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Love Triangle, Heartbreak, Gojo being possessive, Choso regret, Gojo being down bad for you.

PART1 PART3 PART4 PART5 PART6

You never meant to fall for him. It happens slowly, in the quiet moments between missions and training sessions, in conversations held under the soft glow of the setting sun, in the way his presence lingers even when he’s gone. 

Choso doesn’t demand attention like Gojo or project authority like Nanami. He exists in a way that is both grounded and deeply unfathomable, as if his soul has lived a thousand lifetimes and seen too much.

And yet, when he looks at you, there’s something raw and genuine there—something that makes your breath hitch before you can stop it. 

It starts with small, stolen interactions. You find yourself gravitating toward Choso whenever you need a break from the constant energy of Jujutsu High.

He’s the kind of person who makes silence feel comfortable, who doesn’t need to fill every moment with conversation. But when he does speak, it’s with intention. “You’re different from the others,” he tells you one evening.

The two of you are sitting on the steps of the courtyard again, a familiar place for your conversations. The sky is streaked with shades of violet and orange, the air cooling as the sun sinks lower. You glance at him. 

“How so?” Choso tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes studying you. “You don’t try too hard. You don’t put on a show.” You let out a soft chuckle, looking ahead. “I could say the same about you.” He doesn’t respond right away, but his lips twitch into something close to a smile.

It’s rare, but when it happens, it’s enough to make your stomach flip. As time passes, you begin to notice the subtle ways he cares. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay—he just knows.

If you come back from a mission looking drained, he silently hands you a bottle of water and sits beside you. When you’re struggling with paperwork late into the evening, he brings you tea without being asked.

He doesn’t need words to express what he feels, and somehow, that makes it all the more meaningful.

The first time you truly see his protective side is during a routine mission. You’re paired together to exorcise a group of curses near the outskirts of Tokyo.

It should have been an easy job, but things take a turn when one of the curses moves faster than anticipated, catching you off guard. Before you can react, Choso is already in front of you. His movements are fluid, almost effortless, as he blocks the attack meant for you.

The sound of his Blood Manipulation slicing through the enemy is quick and decisive, the battle over in an instant.

He turns to you, eyes scanning your body as if to check for injuries. “Are you hurt?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it—an urgency that makes your chest tighten. “I’m fine,” you assure him, though your heartbeat is still racing. His jaw clenches slightly, but he nods.

 “Be more careful next time.” You don’t miss the way he positions himself closer to you for the rest of the mission, subtly keeping you within reach.

That night, as you replay the moment in your head, you realize something.

You feel safe with him.

The realization that you’re falling for Choso comes unexpectedly. It’s in the way your heart skips when he says your name. In the way you seek him out without thinking. In the way his presence is no longer just a comfort but a necessity. It happens one night when you’re both walking back to the dorms after a late training session.

The air is crisp, and the stars are scattered across the sky.

You’re both quiet, comfortable in the shared silence. 

Then, out of nowhere, he speaks. “I like being around you.” You stop mid-step, turning to him. His gaze is steady, unwavering. There’s no hesitation in his words, no nervousness—just sincerity. 

Your heartbeat stutters. “I like being around you too.” A pause. Then, his hand, warm and hesitant, brushes against yours. You don’t pull away. Instead, you lace your fingers through his, sealing the moment.

That night, you fall asleep knowing that something between you has shifted, something irreversible. And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel alone.

[olive-treeeee]

Bad Timing - 11th Doctor x Reader

Summary: You and the doctor are running from a horrific beast, but He has something to tell you.

Warnings: Monsters and Snogging.

Hello all! I hope you're all doing well, this is my first fan fiction so be nice! But if you like what you see I take requests!

“I think you made him angry.” The Doctor’s voice was tight with panic, the edges fraying in a way you’d never heard before. He wasn’t just nervous; he was afraid, Terrified even. And if he was afraid, you were as good as dead. He moved in front of you, his stance tense, like a man trying to shield a child. He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, Small and fragile pretending to be bigger than he was. It would have been almost endearing if it wasn’t utterly useless.

Your breath hitched as your gaze stayed locked on the thing in front of you. It was wrong. Blinding white, the color of fresh snow and hospital walls, but there was nothing pure about it. Its eyes, a vast blue, the other red and raw, freshly wounded. its gaze tore into you with a predator’s patience. A fresh scar slashed down its grotesque, rodent-like face, its curved ears twitching at every breath you took.

And then there was its body. massive. A hulking, bearlike beast, towering over you both like a skyscraper waiting to collapse. One swipe, one lazy flick of its monstrous claw, and you would be nothing but shredded meat. You could feel it. It knew that too and you bet it liked it.

Desperate, you turned to the Doctor, searching for some sign of reassurance, some plan, some miracle. But for the first time since you’d met him, he was silent.

“Angry?” You managed to get out. It felt more like a panicked ramble. “Why would he be angry?”

The doctor, still eyes glued to the monster, noticed the snapped pile of sticks and twigs, the pile was too small for the monster to have sat in but based on where the monster stood and the sudden switch, you would assume that it was the reason. 

“It was a nest for its offspring and you broke it.” The doctor’s voice wobbled. “You stepped on it and you broke it.” 

He didn’t sound like he was angry or telling you off in any way, which surprised you considering you were face to face with certain death and it was all your fault.

“I didn’t mean to.” You squeaked.

The Doctor twitched his head, “I don't think it cares. Over three hundred years of hunting, searching and scouring the planet for a nest for its newborns and it's been squandered by a human.”

Silence fell over you as you heard the monster’s snarls and growls. It sounded somewhat like a lion or a tiger. Both of you took a mini step back again as you felt your heart beating louder and louder. You looked to the doctor for some sort of comfort, but when you did, you received no such thing. The same look of eyes wide and a slightly agape mouth, still etched on his face didn’t necessarily take you by surprise but it definitely made your heart sink. 

“Doctor.” You said, tugging at his sleeve.

“Yeah?” He responds, eyes still glued to the monster.

“Would now be the best time to run?” You began to panic even more. The Doctor turned to look at you for a split second, the first time he looked at you since you saw the creature. You’d never admit it but you liked it when he looked at you. 

Even during certain death. Especially during certain death.

The Doctor, without taking his eyes off the monster stretched his arm around so he’s able to grip your hand. “Uh, yes. Yes I think that would be a great idea.”

He snapped out of his daze and pulled you by the hand and together you ran for your lives. The monster lets out an eardrum rupturing screech before barrelling for both of you. The ground shakes at every single booming step. You Watch as corridors twist and turn in your view.

You looked back, the doctor’s hand still in yours. A huge group of cyber armoured soldiers burst through one of the doors, their guns pointed at the creature - you were safe.

“Where did you put the TARDIS?” You asked, still slightly out of breath. You looked around, the entire building isn’t anything you’ve seen before. A spaceship of some kind? A derelict hunk of metal whirling through deep space, sent to keep the beast contained and never return to whatever hell it came from. There’s an acute feeling of despair that stains the walls of this Wraithhold.

“I haven’t the foggiest. It was meant to be here.” The Doctor said, panic dripping in his voice. “It was right here, I swear.”

“So, we’ve Lost it?”

“Unfortunately.”

Your heart Slammed against your ribs, a cold dread coiling in your gut. This is it, Here you are, Stranded on a dying, rust coated hunk of junk with nothing but the faint sounds of systems, slowly failing and the slow, wet grunts of the thing that might eat you alive. Panic grips at your throat, what if no one can get you off this god forsaken ship? What if you never see your mum again? Never step foot into your crummy job ever again? Never feel the warmth of the sun? It wasn’t much of a life before Him but now you are standing at the edge of something so much worse. 

“(Y/N)” The Doctor broke you out of your trance. You spun around to look at him properly. His hair flopping in front of his face, dropped to his knees, twisting slightly so he was facing you. He looked to have been trying to ‘sonic’ an exit out of the side of the metal. “I think this is bad timing, but I have a feeling that we might not make it out alive-”

“Oh my god, please don’t say that.” You shrieked. “You have never said anything like that.”

“Would you just let me finish?” He cut you off, launching to his feet in one fluid motion. Before you could protest, his hand was suddenly on you. Warm, firm, calloused as it pressed against your mouth, silencing you. Your breath hitched. He never touched you. Not like this. Not ever.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as his gaze burned into yours.

“We might not make it out alive,” he murmured, low and rough. This was so unlike him. He was usually so bubbly, but this tone, it made you feel something. Then he shrugged, “but we probably will, because it’s me. But if we don’t…” His fingers twitched against your skin, his thumb ghosting along your cheek as his voice dropped to something almost guttural. “I need to do this. Just once.”

And then, before you could process it, before you could even breathe. His lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was raw, searing, all-consuming. His fingers slid from your mouth to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just right as he deepened the kiss, pressing himself flush against you. Heat coiled low in your stomach. The metal walls around you, the danger, the ticking clock. It all dissolved, drowned out by the way he tasted, the way he took you in his arms. 

When he finally pulled back, just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, his breath was uneven. His hands lingered, thumbs stroking along the skin of your jawline as though worshipping the shape of you.

“If we die,” he whispered, lips barely brushing against yours, “at least I’ll go, knowing what that felt like.”

You pull away from him, a sly grin plastered across your face. “That was really cheesy, doctor.” 

The doctor looked back at you with a look you couldn’t quite read, you supposed – you hoped it was a positive one. Then he smiled, oh god, He smiled. His dimples brimming on his cheeks. “You know me, gotta keep you on your toes.”

The Moment, just as quick as it started, was cut short by the ear splitting, shrill roar of the monster. You both snapped your heads in perfect unison adrenaline pulsing all over again.

“Speaking of keeping you on your toes.” A wicked grin spread across his face, Then before you could react, he laced his hand in yours and the two of you took off down the corridor

[woozinhos]

omgggg the woo one was so cute!! can we get the same with jongho??

Notes: sorry I just have to write every Ateez request I get I’m like AHHH anyways enjoy this cutie

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Jongho had been trying for a baby for a while, and you were starting to think it might never happen. But one day, you noticed that you were feeling more tired than usual and your period was late. You took a test, and to your surprise, it was positive. You couldn't believe it, but you were so happy. You knew Jongho would be over the moon when you told him. You waited until he got home from work, trying to contain your excitement as you waited for him in the living room. When he walked through the door, you held up the test with a big smile on your face.

"Guess what?" you said. Jongho's eyes widened as he saw the test in your hand. "No way," he said, walking over to you in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your face. "I'm pregnant," you confirmed. "We're going to have a baby." Jongho let out a loud whoop and scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around in circles. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed, setting you down and peppering your face with kisses. "I'm so happy, baby. You have no idea."

You laughed and hugged him tightly, feeling overwhelmed with happiness. "I can't believe it," you said, resting your head on his chest. "We're going to be parents. We're going to have a little Jongho or Y/N running around." Jongho smiled and placed his hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it. "I can't wait to meet them," he said softly. "I'm going to be the best dad I can be, I promise." Jongho hugged you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he held you close.

"I love you so much," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you for giving me this gift." As the hug continued, you heard soft sobs coming from Jongho. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, wiping away his tears. "Why are you crying?" Jongho sniffled and looked at you with teary eyes. "I'm just so happy," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm happy and scared and overwhelmed all at once. I never thought I could feel this much love for someone."

You smiled and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away his tears. "It's okay to feel all those things," you reassured him. "I'm feeling the same way. We're going to be a family, Jongho. We'll get through this together." Jongho nodded, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "You're right," he said, leaning into your touch. "We can do this. I have you by my side, and that's all I need." Jongho looked at you with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. A small laugh escaping his lips. "We tried for so long, and it didn't seem like it was going to happen. But now it has, and it feels like a dream come true."

He took your hands in his, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm so grateful for you, Y/N. You're the reason this is happening. You're the love of my life." You smiled and squeezed his hands, feeling your heart swell with love for him. "And you're the love of mine," you replied. "I can't wait to see our baby grow and watch them grow up with you by my side." Jongho pulled you into another hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you once more. "I'm going to be the proudest dad ever," he declared. "I'm going to spoil our child rotten."

You laughed and playfully smacked his arm. "Don't spoil them too much, or they'll turn out just like you," you teased. Jongho chuckled and pretended to be offended. "Hey, what's wrong with that?" he asked, grinning. "I'm awesome." Jongho kissed the top of your head, a content sigh escaping his lips. He held you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms and knowing that you were carrying his child.

"I'm the luckiest man alive," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad I did it."

[florida3exclamationpoints]

SHES JUST THE SWEETEST LITTLE BABY GIRL!!!!! AND IM SEEING HER AGAIN TOMORROW!!!!!!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[angelfic]

jason todd x reader

warnings — mentions of size/body image, jason being insecure… and also sexy. also this is unedited as per usual. other than that, nothing!

a/n; im gonna bite his bicep like that’s all i have to say. enjoy <3

JASON TODD is huge.

the man is over 6 feet of pure muscle so it doesn’t matter how tall you are, he’s bigger than you and he’s very aware of it.

when he’s red hood, being so large is a tactical advantage. he feels strong and in charge and practically unbeatable.

when he’s jason, he feels uncomfortable and noticeable and that’s the last thing he wants or needs. he doesn’t stop working out, because not only does he need something physical to relieve his stress, but he also can’t afford not being jacked as fuck. how the hell else is he supposed to be as scary as he is as red hood.

instead, he overcompensates by wearing darker colours, slightly oversized hoodies, not always standing up at his full height. it doesn’t do that much, the sheer size of him is a little hard to fully hide, but it makes him feel a little better.

when you come into the picture, things slowly start to change.

every time he hugs you, it’s instantly a mood booster for you because of how safe it feels with his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world for a few minutes. the way you sigh and melt into the hug has him smiling, a little shyly, as he holds you closer.

whenever you need him to get you something off a high shelf, he happily obliges and loves feeling useful. more than that, he loves how you always thank him by gently running a hand down his chest. “what would i do without you?” you say, sincerely, because you know he needs to hear it sometimes. and when you drop a kiss to his forearm as he sets the object down, he’s suddenly glad that he’s taller than you and he starts standing a little straighter.

the first time you hold up his hand against yours to compare sizes, you find yourself grinning at the difference. jason finds himself thinking about how small your hand is instead of how large his own is. and when you interlock your fingers with his, that’s all he’s focusing on.

sometimes, when your eyes are locked on your phone as you’re walking the busy streets of gotham and letting jason guide you around with your hand in his, he’s having to grab your waist to stop you bumping into someone or something. “careful,” he mutters, but his mind has gone blank and all he’s thinking about is his large hands around your waist and his pulse is racing. he feels like a creep until you turn around to give him a sheepish smile and thank him, placing your hands on his to keep them around your waist. he doesn’t miss the way you’re glancing down and biting your lip.

with jason around, you never have to do any heavy lifting, but of course you’re going to try sometimes. when you buy a cute new coffee table and it arrives when he’s out on patrol, you physically can’t wait to open and buid it. that bit is easy enough, but you find yourself cursing when you realise you stupidly built it on the other side of the room. “uhm, what do you think you’re doing?” jason asks, leaning in the doorway, red hood helmet in between his arm. you’re breathing heavily, arms pinned awkwardly at your sides as you were trying a new approach of throwing your body weight against the table to shift it. you slump, looking up at him with a pout.

“it’s heavier than i thought,” you admit. jason crosses the living room in two giant strides.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says, lifting the entire thing with both hands on either side and effortlessly placing it in front of the couch. he looks at you for approval in case you want it elsewhere and finds that you’re staring at him, slack jawed. he frowns, crossing his arms over, vigilante suit still on. “what…?”

“that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, shamelessly. he grins, shaking his head at the way you’re completely serious, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. “no, seriously, you need to run before i pounce on you.”

his favourite thing is your habit of falling asleep on him when you’re watching tv and he often needs to pick you up to take you to bed. sometimes, you start to stir, halfway to the bedroom and you sleepily blink up at him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “you’re so strong,” you mumble against his shoulder, your voice soft with drowsiness. jason’s heart clenches.

jason starts standing at his full height just so he can see you craning your neck to look at him, giving him the excuse to lift you up onto the counter which often results in you wrapping your legs around his waist and engaging a make out session.

he starts to wear t-shirts instead of large hoodies when he goes to the gym, just so he can hear you wolf whistle as he walks to the door, running over to kiss him goodbye and giving his biceps a squeeze.

day by day, jason finds himself more comfortable with just being him. and he’s even happier than he gets to be himself with you.

a/n cont.; the red hood mask stays ON during sex