#it’s like work stole my entire day out from under me

[forgive00]

EMERGENCY: help two young disabled trans youth escape an actively dangerous and abusive home

(more under the cut about why this is an urgent matter, if you have any more questions send me an ask or dm me please)

we need 5,000 to put down a deposit on an apartment, pay first months rent, utilities and bills, and buy furniture, groceries, and any appliances or random household things we may need like silverware dishes medicine etc. any extra money will be put towards more household expenses and rent. any money beyond that will go towards getting us both into therapy and regular doctors appointments which we both very much need.

0/5,000 $ GOAL, ANYTHING AT ALL HELPS (EVEN IF YOU JUST SHARE!)

please read our story below and share this post to anyone you know who can support us or just reblog. i cannot stress enough this is extremely urgent, we are in a very hostile and unsafe environment and i am very afraid for our futures and safety if we are living here for any longer.

hi, this is embarrassing and humiliating, but i am in an emergency situation and desperately need to escape my abusers and to live somewhere that is safe for me. it has always been dangerous here but the situation has vastly escalated. my best friend and life partner, august, has been living with me and my biological parents since november after becoming homeless. i have lived with my parents my entire life not by choice, since i have turned 18 i have been trying constantly to escape and move out and they have deliberately sabotaged me every single time, even going so far as to say they would physically force me inside the house and barricade the door to stop me if they knew i was trying to leave them. my living situation is really, really fucking bad. my house is and has been incredibly dirty my entire life and i am expected to do every single chore in the house no matter what despite the fact i am very physically disabled and work a full time job, i am not allowed to eat or have access to food or water or the kitchen after around 10 pm, a lot of the time i have to eat in secret because i get mocked and made fun of for eating or "gaining weight" (i have had a lifelong eating disorder my family actively tries to trigger and encourage and they have made it very clear they do not like me recovering or seeking therapy for it). my father in particular is very aggressive and has physically abused me countless times and i live in terror every single day that it will happen again. every single day i am emotionally abused, manipulated, and gaslit by my parents. and this is just whats happening to me, august has had his access to a house and place to sleep threatened repeatedly, my parents have even gone so far as to try and gaslight us both into thinking he stole from them so they could have a reason to kick him out, even though they personally invited him to live with us and are aware he would be homeless if he wasnt here.

ontop of all of this, my family is aggressively and very openly transphobic and homophobic, and i genuinely fear for our lives staying in this house any longer as we are both on hrt and actively transitioning. i cut contact with my abusive grandmother two years ago, and my mother has recently started talking to her and telling her extremely personal information behind my back about my transition, my rape, my disability diagnosis, virtually anything they can both use against me they are using against me.

we cannot keep living here. i need to get away from them as fast as possible. we are moving to another town to cut contact with both my biological family and augusts.

[angelmush]

i love when i get to have a slower morning before work. i ate smoked salmon w chili marinated cucumbers for breakfast. i sat on the green couch with my big dragon dog laying across my legs, his thunderous heartbeat keeping the time while i savored the privelege of knitting and journaling some before i had to leave. recently ive taken to listening to informative radio shows about birds as i brush my teeth and wash my face, committing the birdsong of faraway forests i’ve never visited to memory while i pull on my woolen socks.

[moonlight-prose]

I saw that prompt list you reblogged and so if you’re looking for logan ideas i really liked:

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Love your fics btw too!!! 💜💜

hunger

a/n: oh my brain went to mush at this one. like actively i've lost brain cells and am currently scrounging to find more. this is basically me being a horny bitch for this man. (possibly cause i'm ovulating). but that's okay. we're all here to do the exact same thing!

summary: things are set into motion the second logan opens your drawer. suddenly you find yourself the center of a show with only one audience member.

word count: 1.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, hints at oral (f receiving), cigar smoking, voyeurism, dirty talk, he's so filthy i blushed writing this.

Accidental was far from the word he'd use to describe the current situation. He'd rather say it was intentional. At least that's what it felt like when you sent him to your drawer for a pair of clean boxers you stole from him in the first few weeks of dating. Logan was used to the act. Finding his flannels strewn throughout your closet—his leather jacket draped across the foot of your bed like a fancy throw blanket.

He felt it before he saw it. The soft silicone feel of something small—an uninteresting object he normally would have overlooked. He pushed it out of the way at first, mistaking it entirely for the little portable charger you usually keep by the bed.

Only for it to roll to the side, the button hitting the drawer. A loud buzz drew his attention close within seconds. His hand grasping the small vibrator and flicking it off with a smirk. A look he wore when the choice to fuck you into the mattress solidified in his mind.

"Hey what's taking so long?" You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel—water droplets streaming off your naked body, forming a small puddle on the hardwood floors of your shared bedroom.

He close his fist around the small device when he stood, holding the clothes you were waiting for. Logan watched you smile, reach for his hand, and stop short as his other palm opened—revealing the black little toy you only kept for emergencies.

For nights when he was called on a mission that might land them in deep waters for days on end. You never minded—it was part of the job after all—but telling Logan that you fucked yourself in your spare time to ease the thoughts of him that plagues you...wasn't an easy conversation to have. Yet there it was. Staring directly at you; taunting you with the knowledge that he found it before you could locate a better hiding spot.

"Got somethin' to tell me bub?"

Your mouth dried at the sight of his grin—nostrils flaring as your scent sharpened in the air. Thicker than before; the tell tale sign that you weren't angry or irritated. But interested in where he might take this.

Before you could snatch it from his hands, he tossed the clothes back into the still open drawer. His smile on deepening at the sight of your swallow—the steady thrum of your heart now a quick flutter under your chest. There was no hiding how you felt with him. Not when he was so in tune with your body it nearly scared you.

He could smell the pool of slick that began to form in between your clenched thighs. The sharp breath you sucked in giving him enough confirmation to keep going. You wanted this—him. And though he could never understand why, he rarely questioned it.

So he nodded towards the bed, dragging the chair you kept at your desk over to sit a foot away from where you were perched. Your hand still clutching the towel and eyes stuck on the vibrator in his hold.

Logan lowered himself with a sigh—legs spread and body relaxed as your eyes trailed down his stomach to the thick expanse of his thighs. Last night you were perched on one, reduced to a whiny moaning mess as he dragged you along the rough denim. Watching you work yourself into a high that left you immobile.

His head tilted, gaze dragging down your body, tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip. "You aren't gonna need the towel bub," he rasped.

"I don't know what we're doing."

"Don't you trust me?" You nodded quicker than you expected. "Then drop it and spread those pretty legs for your old man."

A soft whimper barely legible above your gasp echoed in the room. Logan heard it as if you pressed it directly to his ear. You scooted back on the bed, the towel now forgotten and dropped to the floor. He shifted at the sight of your feet pushed against the soft comforter, your cunt on full display for him to view.

"There we go," he murmured.

Your hand slipped down, sliding through your slick for barely a second before he was clicking his tongue. "That's not what I want."

"B-but you said-"

"I said spread 'em. Not touch your pretty little clit."

"Logan," you breathed, fighting the pull that demanded you find some sort of relief. Even if that came in the form of your own touch.

He merely lounged in the chair, smiling at how you battled with yourself in order to be good for him. Oh how he loved the sight of your brows pulled together—need eating away at the very core of your body. If he was a better man he'd let you choose what to do.

He'd follow your lead.

But that remained something he never excelled at.

"Don't worry. She'll get the attention she needs." He leaned over you, placing the familiar device between your breasts—a kiss quickly snuck against your nipple that peaked under the wet heat of his mouth. "I'm real interested in how you use this sweetheart. Show me?"

The breath escaped you with a punch to your stomach as he settled back in his previous spot. You glanced at him—heat spilling beneath your cheeks—and felt a wave of slick drip down to the bed at the sight of him pulling a cigar free. He cut the end off, stuck it between his teeth, and flicked the lighter on with practiced ease.

This was a show and he remained the only audience member.

"Go on," he mumbled, smoke unfurling past his lips. "Be a good girl."

With a shaky breath, you gingerly picked up the vibrator and turned it on. This was second nature to you now. Laying in bed with your legs spread as you listened to the buzzing sound that would bring you your desired orgasm. You'd been here before. You would no doubt be here again.

Only this time Logan paid attention to every minuscule movement. He clung to the way you slid your hand down and pressed the end of it to the very top of your clit. Almost as if you were the best fucking program he had the privilege to watch.

Instead of the rush of sweaty embarrassment you almost expected. You were greeted with a boost of pride at the sound of his harsh groan. The chair creaking under his weight as he shuffled to find some relief for his growing cock.

"How's it feel bub?" he breathed, inhaling another drag from his cigar.

You sighed, high pitched and needy. "Good."

"Yeah?" He shifted again when you slid the vibrator through the lips of your cunt, a moan spilling past your parted lips. "Fuck. You normally take your time with it?"

Nodding, you dragged it back up to your clit, teasing yourself with small circles. "F-Feels better like this."

That familiar tug in your gut began to grow the longer you held it against yourself, building quicker than before. You knew it was on account of him watching you. Licking his lips and white knuckling his cigar to keep from sliding his tongue through your slick. You had half a mind to beg him. To see if you could get him to break.

The minute you slipped it down further and plunged it into your tight walls was enough for him. He snapped with a feral grunt. His hands working the belt buckle of his jeans—a whisper of his zipper being tugged down—before his cock sprang free. The tip red and shiny with precum.

You moaned at the sight, legs trembling as you pumped the vibrator clumsily into your cunt. "Touch yourself," you gasped, stomach going taut. "Please. Need to see you baby."

"Fuck sweetheart. Gonna make me cum like a fuckin' teenager." He spit loudly into his palm, slicking up his cock with a heady moan.

"P-Pretty," you slurred.

"Look whose talkin'," he huffed. The cigar now clamped between his teeth.

The intensity of his gaze only grew when you replaced the device with two of your fingers. Rapidly working them in tandem with the buzzing on your swollen clit. Sparks shot down your spine, heat clamping tight around your stomach. What time you thought remained now worked its way to an eviscerating crescendo.

"Your creamin' around your fingers bub," he grunted, the wet slap of his hand blending with the echo of your cunt. "Want to lick you clean after this."

Your walls fluttered, heart leaping to your throat. "Can I suck your cock?"

A ragged moan filled the empty spaces that lay between. "Can't say no to you."

"Logan," you mewled. "'M gonna-"

He snarled, abruptly sitting forward, hand still working his cock in rapid strokes. "C'mon. Cum for me. Give me a show."

The string holding you together broke in two, flooding your body with bliss and turning your vision blurry. His name was a broken cry torn from your throat—hips canting up into your touch as you pushed the vibrator harder against your clit. Until the pleasure began to seep into pain. A whimper echoed in the room when you pulled away, legs falling to dangle off the bed—body now entirely spent.

The soft press of his lips against your knee jolted you slightly; the nerves under your skin still sensitive. He dropped to the floor, eyes latched onto the way your entrance fluttered, cum now forming a mess between your thighs.

"Made such a pretty mess for me bub."

You sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "You like it?"

Wet open mouth kisses trailed along your inner thigh, his nose pressed to the curls above your center. "I fuckin' love it," he sighed, inhaling your heady scent with a groan.

"It's yours."

You gasped when his tongue slid along your cunt, thumbs spreading you to reach every fucking inch. "Yes it is." He pressed a kiss to each lip, sucking them into his mouth as if he was kissing you. "All fuckin' mine."

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ THIEF! ★

Based off this ask by @raphuna-nekomada !!

The first time, Neuvillette brushed it off as if nothing had happened.

He spent the entire morning looking for his dedicated Monday bow, black with silver intricacies that you personally picked out for him many years ago.

"Must be a sign from the universe not to go into work," you hummed from the bed, rolling over and inviting him back under the blanket. He hadn't indulged you on Monday, instead opting to use his Tuesday ribbon and huffing about how he would find the missing article later.

The second time it happened, he was suspicious.

Two days in a row his ribbon had gone missing, now his Wednesday ribbon had been used for Tuesday. It irked him, and while he had no other reason to suspect that you were the culprit, the way you beckoned him back to bed again flicked a switch in his mind.

Ultimately, he hadn't indulged you on Tuesday either.

The third time it happens, he saunters up to your side of the bed immediately.

"My love," he calls, and for a moment you think he hasn't caught you because he's lacking any sort of stern tone— the kind he would address Wriothesley with.

"Yes?" You peer up at him with a glimmer of mischief, clutching something to your chest. His eyes narrow and he kneels onto the bed beside you.

"Have you seen my ribbon?"

"I haven't."

"Are you sure? I'm certain I left it on the dresser last night."

"You must be imagining things, dearest."

You give him a sly, lazy smile and that's when he knows you're nothing but a terrible liar. He nearly scoffs in your face, leaning down closer so he can look at you with a hardening expression.

"And what exactly is your ploy here? Would you like me to wrestle it out of your hands?"

Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment before you laugh, clearly finding his suggestion humorous. "Would it keep you at home longer if you did?"

The gears turn in his head at your words, slow realization washing over him as you blink up innocently. (Feigning innocence, actually. Poorly.)

Ah, so that's what this is all about.

"You want me to stay home?"

A beat of silence. "And if I said yes?"

"You know my answer." Yet he hasn't pulled away, gotten off the bed, and left for work like he does every morning. In fact, you're pretty sure he's drawn a couple inches closer to you.

The fabric you stole from him suddenly wraps around the back of the neck and you rein him in until he's hovering just above you, arms and legs caging you in on either side.

"Got you," you sing quietly.

His gaze flickers down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "You got me," he repeats in faux defeat, swooping down to capture you in a kiss.

He starts to think that maybe a day off wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but he has more than one trial today and there is no one to fill his role in his absence.

Still, Neuvillette decides that he can come to a compromise if only to hold you like this before his busy day. Besides, if he didn't indulge you now this would never end.

"Ten more minutes."

"Ouch. Stingy."

He smothers you under his body so you'll stop talking.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[sim-berry]

I'm Tired.

I totally get why many simblrs don't want to name and shame and want to avoid drama, but I'm not one of those simblrs. If I see some bs I'm going to call it out. I only have a few followers (who are lovely and sweet) anyway, so it's not like I'll get a crusade against me. So that's exactly what I'm gonna do, because I'm pissed right now.

I know I don't have a big blog so it's unlikely many will see this, but if you do, please reblog it. Spread the word about creators who have stolen content so that people can stop downloading their cc and supporting them.

One of my favorite creators, Toys of Dukeness, has just deleted all their poses from Patreon and stated that they are leaving the Sims community. Their poses have been STOLEN by other "creators" who have locked them behind paywalls. Keep in mind Toys gives their poses out FOR FREE and they've been STOLEN and put behind paywalls! They're making money off of shit that isn't even theirs! How disgusting is that?? And now they don't even feel welcome in the community that they've given so much to.

And it's funny because I just saw a post from the amazing @simmireen (who makes many of my favorite poses) calling out THE SAME CREATOR for stealing their poses!! Simmireen's poses are stunning and she is kind enough to give them out for free, and she's had her hard work ripped off by an early access paywaller. The same one who drove Toys out of this community: simsulani.

This is a screenshot taken from Toys of Dukeness's post (read the whole thing here) that specifically calls out two of the thieves:

If this keeps happening, more of our wonderful cc creators are going to leave simblr. And I don't blame them one bit. Why put hours, sometimes days, of work into creating content when it's just going to be stolen and profited off of by someone else?

And when those creators do eventually leave, do you know what we'll be left with? Scummy perma-paywallers and early access creators who use minority groups to make money. (As a member of the LGBT I can't tell you how fucking sick I am of seeing "Pride Month Collection- Available to the public on June 30th🥰")

We can't let that happen. We need to support and show love to the creators who allow us to have beautiful cc and amazing poses in our games. I can tell you right now my stories would be nothing without simmireen's and Toys' poses. And they aren't the only creators who have had their cc stolen. We're on here about AI stealing art all the time (which is a totally valid argument, don't get me wrong), meanwhile actual humans, fellow simmers, are stealing content right under our noses, right this moment.

I am TIRED of this. Our content creators are being driven off this site and out of the community entirely because their work is being stolen. Storytellers, including myself, have also had their storylines stolen. I once saw someone take my entire NSB Gen 2 storyline, with even the quotes being copied and pasted! If you don't have creativity, then don't make content, that's okay. What's not okay is STEALING from people who have worked hard on their craft, ESPECIALLY if you're making money off of the stuff you stole.

Again, please reblog if you can. And feel free to share some REPUTABLE creators so simmers know who to download from rather than the thieves. They're the ones who need to be driven out, not the hardworking creators. And anyone who is afraid to vent about this on main can come into my anon and rant all they want. We as a community need to stop this.

-Coco xoxo

[tackykachowch]

Silco was set up to be Fishbones from the start

Disclaimer: I won't take season 2 into account At All, because it can't work with setups and payoffs even if its life depends on it.

Alrighty. As we've seen Season 1 paid a lot of attention to set up canon things from LoL into the show as naturally and logically as possible, and at least from my point of view, it handled the job with flying colors. Jayce's hammer, Vi's gauntlets, Vander/Warwick etc, nothing felt out of place. But how does Silco fit into this at all? Let's get down to business to defeat the huns

First of all, what even is Fishbones? In the canon of LoL, it's one of if not the most iconic weapon Jinx has. And it is not only a weapon to her, but a loyal and "beloved" companion, as it's described in one of her skins. She constantly talks to it, and in contrast to her chaotic and impulsive nature, Fishbones is very pragmatic and calm. Sounds like a certain someone, doesn't it? But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

But how does Silco go from being Jinx's father to one of her weapons? There are a lot of points that support that actually, I was surprised myself ngl.

- Silco is the only character in the entire series who is directly and tightly connected to water and underwater creatures. Silco was "reborn" in the water when Vander tried to kill him, the first office he had was placed under the water, with a huge observational window. Silco is also fond of underwater creatures, and while other people call and see them as monsters, Silco pays no attention to it, as he thinks that there's "a monster inside all of us". And here's Fishbones, who is designed after a shark, arguably the most famous "underwater monster". But what is more interesting is that it debuted is the finale of season 1, which is titled "The monster you created". Quite a throughline there.

- Silco was the reason behind Fishbones' creation in the first place. While it does seem that it all started with Jinx, who stole the hex gemstone on the Progress Day, we also need to remember WHY she did it. She did it to impress Silco specifically, to make him to be proud of her. This want was triggered by her screwing up the smuggling mission earlier that day, and while Silco didn't scold her for it much and only advised her to rest for a bit, she saw this as him thinking that she's weak. So, after all of this Silco asks Jinx to make a weapon with the use of gemstone. Not necessarily to use it against Piltover, but to have it as a wild card if his plans go wrong. Jinx agrees and attempts to reverse engineer it, but it triggers her memories when she killed Mylo and Claggor with her bomb, so she tells Silco that she can't do it. He then goes to the river he was nearly killed in with her, and "baptises" her to help her let go of her fear of pain. This seemed to have worked, at least for a little while, because she managed to finish the weapon. So, in conclusion: Fishbones' creation was triggered by Jinx's want to impress Silco, and he helped her with its creation on every step of the way.

- this point is somewhat meta, but I'll use it anyway. In previously mentioned episode 9 Silco tells Jinx that everybody around them betrays them, and they have only each other to love and lean on. He says, quote: "Everyone betrays us, Jinx. Vander, her. It's only us". At the same time, in LoL Jinx says this line to Fishbones: "It's just you and me, Fishbones!". Well.....it's certainly a callback if I've seen one. Like- it's not even funny. They couldn't have written this line on accident.

- now onto the most interesting part for me personally. We all now that there are no accidents in animation, like. At all. Even if there are this is extremely rare, as every frame is created intentionally. Now, we do now that there are quite. A few discrepancies between writers and animators of arcane, but I don't think this applies in this particular case. Now onto the actual point. So, in the finale of season 1 Jinx kills Silco, and it's shown to us like this.

He's turned with right side ("human") of his face to the camera, while the left side ("monster") side is hidden.

As Jinx fires Fishbones at the council

It's positioned with its right side to the camera, which alignes with Silco's "monster eye". Also, Fishbone's eye has a black scar pattern around its eye, which again, resembles Silco's damadged eye. That could mean that Silco is once again "reborn", and now continues to live on in the monster Jinx created.

And here comes the most awesome part in all of this. When Silco adopts Powder, he hugs her and tells her

Do you see how the frame is positioned? Exactly. It is exactly the same framing scene with Jinx and Fishbones has. And, most importantly, when Jinx pulls the trigger, we hear the exactly same line on the background: "We will show them all". It simultaneously shows: that Jinx's attack on the council is her way of dealing with grief of killing Silco; her way of honoring Silco's fight against Piltover; and a direct transition of Silco into Fishbones. Although he's dead in body, but Jinx's memories of him and his voice now continue to live in Fishbones, her new eternal companion.

I am at awe with the fundamental work that's been done with this setup, and although s2 never followed up on this, I still can get enjoyment from the clear intent creators put here originally.

[joshslater]

Resizing

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Chess Not Checkers

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Summary: You and Yunho have been sleeping together in secret for months. Both of you want more, who’s going to make the first move?

Warnings: 18+, Mature Content, Oral Sex (F receiving),

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (affectionately.) I once stole a yunho photocard right from under my best friend’s nose at an ateez concert. This is one of my favorite things I’ve written. Hope you enjoy!

XOXO, Bibi 🩷

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. ALL WORK IS PURELY FICTIONAL. NOT MY GIF

P.P.S

Likes and reblogs welcome

Thanks For Reading ❤️

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You walked into the KQ Entertainment building, heels clicking down the halls as you made your way to your brother’s studio. Hongjoong was sitting at his computer when you arrived.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he swiveled is his chair to look at his as you plopped down on the couch.

“I have about an hour before my lunch date, I came to kill time.” Which is true. You did have some spare time before meeting your best friend for lunch down the street, but the main reason for your visit had just walked into the room.

“Hi. Hi.” Yunho greets as he walks into the room. His gaze lingers on you for a second longer than it should before he turns to Hongjoong asking what the plan for the day was.

You can feel Yunho’s eyes on you the entire time he is recording. His eyes are burning a hole straight through you. You know he wants to ask why you’re dressed up and waiting in the studio. He is just waiting for the opportunity to present itself. After about 45 minutes of recording, Hongjoong gets a call and excuses himself to take it outside. Leaving you alone in the room with Yunho.

“So…what are you all dressed up for? We don’t have plans do we? I wouldn’t have forgotten that.” Yunho’s voice floods from the booth, pulling your attention from our phone. You look at him, a flicker of mischief in your eyes.

You walk over and press the talkback button.

“No we don’t. I have a lunch date in a few minutes.” It’s like you watched a switch flip in Yunho. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he stared at you.

“I’m sorry. What?” Before you get a chance to respond your brother comes back in the room.

“Hey, that was my manager. There was an error in my schedule. I’m actually supposed to be filming a radio show in an hour. I have to go.” He rushes around the room gathering his things before he stops.

“Shit. Yunho, you need to finish today.”

You can see the vein start to pop in his forehead, which only happens when he’s overly stressed. Being the good sister you are you jump in.

“I can finish helping him record. I remember everything.” You’ve been Hongjoong’s shadow since he was still putting together songs in his childhood bedroom. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Thanks Sis! I owe you one.” Then he’s out the door, once again leaving you with Yunho.

You shift your gaze from the door to Yunho, who’s looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You say as you move to sit in your brother’s seat.

“You were explaining to me, how you think you’re going on a date.” Yunho moves to lean against the wall, never taking his eyes off of you.

“No..I know i’m going on a date. In about 15 minutes actually. We need to move this along.” You meet Yunho’s gaze and the jealousy on his face surprises you.

Yunho rests his head against the wall behind him, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he laughs. (author’s note: *insert gif*)

“If you think that I’m gonna let you walk out of this room to go entertain another man with a meal, you’ve lost your mind.”

Yunho pushes himself off the wall and takes off his headphones, before making his way out of the booth. He makes his way over to your chair before trapping you in the chair with his arms.

You look up at him and voice your confusion. “What are you talking about?”.

Yunho leans closer to your ear before he begins speaking again. “You’ve been mine since the moment I met you and you know it. I don’t just fuck anyone into the mattress like I do you.” Shocked by his brazenness you reach out and shove at his chest with flushed cheeks. It doesn’t sway him, but it did make you feel better.

“Yunho.” You lean back in the chair, trying to create space between the two of you.

“Are you being serious right now? You want to be together? Seriously?”

Yunho signs before moving to kneel in front of you. “Princess. I never say anything I don’t mean. But you seem to be a hands on learner. Let me try and change your mind about that date.”

Yunho places his hands on your knees and spreads your legs. He slides his hands up your skirt, long fingers brushing tenderly against your thighs as he reaches to pull down your underwear. Once he has them off, he brings them to his nose and inhales your scent deeply. He proceeds to tuck your favorite lace thong is his pocket. Winking at you when he catches you staring at him hungrily. Yunho spreads your legs further and takes a moment to admire the glistening mound between your legs. He leans in, pressing soft kisses along your thighs. He must’ve neglected to shave this morning because the slight stubble on his face is causing a delicious friction against your inner thighs. Yunho’s large hand reaches out and he hooks his index finger to swipe through your folds. He exposes your clit before diving in. He laps at your pussy like a man starved. Loud slurping noises bouncing off the room of your older brother’s studio. Yunho suckles your clit as he inserts two fingers into your eager hole. Yunho pumps his fingers in and out of you and he continues his assault on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Above him you have your hands woven into his dark hair. Your hips are slowly grinding into his face, head tilted back in pure bliss. You’re trying to be quiet but the man at your feet is trying twice as hard to make sure you aren’t.

“Come on Baby, let me hear you.” His ego had taken a blow. Yunho needed to hear you cry out for him. His girl? On a date with someone else? Over his dead body.

“Yunho” You moan as he replaces his long slender fingers, with his tongue. The tip of his tongue brushes the soft spongy spot inside of you. He feels your body stiffen above him, and he knows he has you. An orgasm crashes over your body, and Yunho keeps his pace. Slurping at your juices until he’s satisfied. Yunho picks his heads up, eyes twinkling and your juices dripping from his chin. Once you catch your breath, he moves to stand up.

“So Princess..What do you say? Still wanna go on your little date” He stands back and watches as you adjust your clothes.

You chuckle as you shimmy your skirt back into place. “Yes, I will still be meeting Y/f/n for lunch. Even though you’ve put

me behind schedule.” Yunho looks at you puzzled.

“As in your best friend? Your female, best friend…” You can see the wheels in his head turning. Slowly you grab your purse and start making your way to the door. “Did you trick me into thinking you were going on a date to make me jealous?” Yunho laughs, he should’ve known. When you wanted something. You got it.

“You little minx” Yunho chuckles as he reaches to grab you. You quickly turn the door handle and run out of the room. As you get further down the hall you turn to see Yunho standing outside your brother’s studio smiling at you. “I’ll see you tonight.” You call as you continue to make you way down the hall. Yunho shakes his head as he makes his way back into Hongjoong’s studio. You sure will see him tonight, and maybe a glimpse of his wooden spoon for your sneaky scheming. He begins packing his things thinking he is done for the day since both you and your brother have now left, when he gets a text:

From: Shorty in Blue 💙

My studio better not smell like sex. I’ll kill you if you fucked my sister on my couch. I’ll be back up in 10 minutes so we can finish recording.

Of course Hongjoong knew. He should’ve known. His sneaky girl. You were definitely getting the spoon tonight.

THE END.

[zablife]

A Cozy Night in with Tommy

Tommy Shelby x female reader

A/N: Wrapping him in a blanket and putting logs on the fire, requested by @brummiereader. Children's story referenced is the Aesop fable The Lion and the Mouse. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: drinking, unwanted advances, bodily harm Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

"A lion lay sleeping in the forest...," a soft voice lilted, the melodic tone wafting into Tommy's office like a gentle spring breeze.

Removing his spectacles and dropping back into his chair to listen, Tommy hummed in contentment. This was his favorite part of the evening because it signaled the beginning of the children's bedtime routine. Within the hour, you would be here with him, reading your own book quietly on the sofa as he finished his paperwork and stole glances across the room.

It had taken weeks for you to feel comfortable enough to accept his nightly invitation, thinking it improper to be alone with a man twice your age whom you'd just met. However, you acquiesced as the pained look of sorrow grew in his eyes.

Frances explained he'd lost two wives under tragic circumstances which left him an achingly lonely widower. Upon hearing this, your kind heart urged you to look after him. It was the least you could do considering his benevolence, offering you shelter when you came to him for help.

Now you'd been with the Shelbys six months and you'd made it your duty to bring cheer to the entire household. One thing the family seemed to enjoy was your storytelling and though Mr. Shelby didn't often finish his work in time to join you, you always hoped he was listening.

You had no way of knowing he cracked his door at the same time each night, straining to hear every word. In fact, he was in rapt attention at that very moment. When you imitated the roar of the lion followed by the high pitched squeak of the captured little mouse, he couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips.

"Spare me! Please let me go..." you begged in an overly exaggerated plea, clasping your hands in prayer dramatically until Charlie and Ruby erupted in giggles at your theatrics.

However, little Ruby soon turned pensive. "Does the lion hurt the mouse?" she gulped, clutching onto your sleeve.

The contact startled you as Ruby had been decidedly standoffish, unwillingly to accept any sort of mother figure so quickly after the death of her own. You placed an arm around her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "No, he's quite generous," you assured her.

By the time you'd finished, Tommy was relaxing with whisky tumbler in hand, trying to be patient as you answered the children's questions about the moral of the story.

"It's about repaying debts," Charlie nodded solemnly. "Dad says a person should always pay their debts. Do mice?" he pondered, tilting his head to think for a moment.

You giggled at the firm assertion and his businesslike tone, so much like Mr. Shelby at times. "Well, according to this fable they do," you conceded. "But more importantly it's about kindness and how it's never wasted." Ruby hugged you tightly in reply, proof that the time you'd spent with the Shelby family was bringing her out of her shell.

Your heart swelled at the notion, a contentedness coming over you as you tucked the children into their beds and watched them snuggle beneath the covers. With a feeling of satisfaction, you skipped happily down the stairs toward Mr. Shelby's office in hopes of brightening his evening as well. Only then would you feel your day was complete.

However, the moment you glimpsed his hunched postured and tense looking jaw in the fading firelight, you paused. He seemed as though he were considering something of great importance and you were reluctant to disturb him. "Is everything alright, Mr. Shelby? Would you like to be alone?" you asked, peering into the shadows of his office.

He slowly raised his head from the desk, exhaustion evident in his bloodshot eyes. "'M fine," he mumbled before straightening in his chair. "Come," he urged with a wave of his hand.

In accordance with your nightly routine, you crossed to the fireplace and carefully added enough wood to last until you retired. However, as you turned to select a book from the large shelves by the desk, the now roaring fire illuminated Mr. Shelby's face, which was much paler than usual. Your fingertips lingered over the spine of a leather-bound volume as worry began to crease your brow.

Noticing your hesitation, Tommy asked, "Haven't found what you're looking for?"

You shook your head softly to indicate that wasn't the problem. Meeting his gaze earnestly, you ventured, "I hope you don't find this presumptuous, Mr. Shelby, but I think you could do with a bit of rest. You look unwell."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a heavy sigh. The silence that followed set you on edge, wondering if he might correct you once again. He was insistent you call him Tommy, but the informality of it still seemed disrespectful.

As you studied his graying temples for a hint of what he might be thinking, Tommy revealed the problem. With gravel filled voice he admitted, "It's true, I can't sleep...haven't been sleeping for some time now."

You felt an ache bloom in your chest at the thought of his suffering, wishing you could ease his discomfort. Without hesitation you complied with his request to join him on the sofa, happy to see he was taking your advice.

Removing the cozy blanket from the back of the sofa, you lightly draped it over his shoulders. With a warm smile, you offered to read aloud while he closed his eyes. However, he politely declined as he reached for your hand instead. Your heart skipped a beat as his long fingers closed over yours, giving a gentle squeeze.

"I like having you close to me, Y/n. Say you'll stay." His penetrating gaze made you feel small beside him and a ripple of anxiety coursed through you at the thought of confiding your plans for the future.

You took a deep breath for courage as you explained, "Mr. Shelby, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness, but it isn't my intention to rely on charity the rest of my life," you began. "I've taken a job so I won't be a burden to you any longer."

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly at your statement. He disliked the news coming from you even less than Maggie at the exchange. She'd dutifully informed him of every call you made to town inquiring about job opportunities for young women. It was the beginning of his many sleepless nights, wondering how he might keep you here.

When your plans sounded like idle gossip, they were easy to ignore. Now the threat of you leaving was real and immediate. He knew he had to do something drastic. Opposite hand rising to stroke your cheek with his knuckles, his sharp blue eyes darted to yours as he blurted, "Marry me."

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, head spinning at his overly familiar show of affection. In all the time you'd spent with Mr. Shelby, he'd never once touched you. You felt it had to do with the respect he held for you, or at least that's what you told yourself until now.

"Mr. Shelby..."Tommy," you corrected yourself. "I'm very fond of you, but you've been like a father to me. So you see, I couldn't possibly mar..."

Before you could finish the thought, you felt the rough, chapped skin of his lips brushing against yours. He was tender at the start, but the first taste of you only made him hungry for more. Deepening the kiss, he slipped his tongue into your mouth roughly, making you startle.

He paid no attention to the way your body stiffened, a firm hand coming to rest at the back of your head. Locking you in place, his opposite hand unclasped from yours to roam your supple curves. Heart slamming against your ribcage, you tried to speak, but only a pathetic squeak emerged.

Tommy chuckled darkly, the innocent cry reminding him of the little mouse from the fable. He not only found your shock amusing, but arousing as well. Although you tried to jerk away, he forced your hand higher on his thigh until you brushed against the growing bulge in his trousers, making his need for you apparent. "I've been more than patient with you, darling."

"What do you mean? Please, you're scaring me," you pleaded in a quivering voice. As his teeth grazed the column of your throat, a strangled cry escaped. "Stop!"

He pulled his face from the crook of your neck, a storm of emotion passing through his eyes. You watched them darken menacingly as he wound his fist in your hair and gave a harsh tug. "I don't think you understand how this works. You came to me, remember?" he emphasized, tilting your neck back at an awkward angle. "Show a bit of gratitude," he scolded.

Tears pricking your eyes, you countered, "I know you don't want to hurt me."

The force he was exerting over you proved otherwise, a sneer curling his lip as he watched you tremble under him. "I gave you everything," he spat. "For what?" he asked rhetorically, tossing you away in disgust.

"Kindness is never wasted," you implored, reciting the message from the fable you so fervently believed.

Tommy scoffed at your childlike naïveté. "You've mistaken my kindness for weakness, love. You have no idea what I'm capable of," he threatened. Then with all the rage of a spurned man, he grasped your throat.

Fingers clutching onto his wrist, you silently pleaded with him for mercy, but his grip only tightened in response. "Spare me," you mouthed, unable to croak out the words.

Tommy shook his head at your request, "I won't let you go."

As you slowly lost the fight against him, he leaned down, stubbled cheek brushing against yours to place a kiss. The low whoosh of blood in your ears nearly drowned out his final declaration whispered calmly into the night. "You belong to me."

-----------

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[zhelin-thames]

Untouchable Chaos: The Jason Todd Chronicles

prompt idea

@silverblueglitter

It was a regular day in the Batcave, which, for anyone who knew Gotham’s most infamous family, meant utter chaos was just a second away. Bruce sat at the large table, sipping his coffee like a man in desperate need of peace. He'd already survived more than enough crises today — a string of robberies, some new crime syndicate in town, and, of course, Jason's latest antics. But as the latest drama unfolded, Bruce couldn't help but wonder if today was the day he’d finally snap.

"We need to talk," Bruce said, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Jason, who was currently spinning around in a chair like an over-caffeinated toddler, stopped his antics and flashed a grin that could only be described as mischievous. "Why? What do you mean?" he asked, playing innocent. If it were anyone else, they’d have seen through the act, but after years of dealing with Jason, everyone knew better than to fall for that.

Damian stood up from the table, slamming his palms down with the intensity of a kid who had just lost his favorite toy. "That! That is what we are concerned about! Your crimes must be answered to!"

Jason tilted his head, blinking exaggeratedly as though he was the picture of innocence. "Crimes?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. "What crimes? I’ve done no such thing."

Dick, who had long since abandoned the idea of maintaining his cool around Jason, leaned forward with a dry smirk. "Little wing," he started wryly, "you terrorized the mayor by stalking him for days, pranked the GCPD seven times, let the animals go at the zoo twice, stole priceless treasures to bribe government officials, robbed three banks to fund an assassination plot on the president, shot five billionaires, beat up four other CEOs, and oh, yeah — set Wayne Enterprises on fire to declare your love for Jazz. Pretty sure those are crimes."

Jason beamed at him, a glint in his eye. "No, they’re not. Not anymore. Thanks to the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Act, I’m not a sapient being anymore. I can’t be held accountable for my actions. In fact, no one can arrest me but the GIW. So until they catch me, I’m untouchable."

Tim, who had been silently simmering in his chair, muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "I should’ve just reported his ass to the government."

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason (when she wasn’t laughing at Jason’s latest disaster), nudged him hard. Tim groaned in response and rubbed his shoulder, then stood up, glaring at Jason. "Jason!" he snapped, "It’s still not an excuse for you to jeopardize our work just to flirt with Jazz and overthrow the government!"

Jason’s grin only widened. He was enjoying this far too much.

"What’re you gonna do? Arrest me?" he taunted, cocking his head to the side with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before anyone could respond, Damian and Tim lunged at him, and suddenly the Batfamily was engaged in an impromptu brawl in the middle of the Batcave. Bruce, meanwhile, clutched his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind entirely. He was pretty sure they were all laughing at him. At him, the patriarch of the family, the one who was supposed to keep things in order.

The fight only grew more ridiculous as time passed. Jason ducked under Damian’s wild swing, using the boy’s own momentum to launch him into Tim, who stumbled into Stephanie. Meanwhile, Dick, who had long ago realized it wasn’t worth fighting Jason's chaos, sat back and watched it all unfold, shaking his head with a wry grin.

Damian growled and attempted to pin Jason down, but the older man slipped out of his hold like a greased pig, laughing the whole time. "Oh, come on, little bat, I’m just having some fun!"

"Fun?!" Damian hissed. "You’re a menace!"

"Yeah," Jason said cheerfully, bouncing back to his feet, "and you love it."

Finally, Bruce, at his absolute limit, slammed his mug down and rose to his feet with all the authority he could muster. "Jason!" he barked, "Get back here."

Jason paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "What now, Bruce? You want me to remind you about the rules again?" His voice was sweet as syrup. "I’m untouchable. Not even you can make me stay in Gotham right now."

Damian, still seething, jumped up and rushed toward him, only to be intercepted by Jason who effortlessly dodged the attack. "You’re impossible!" Damian shouted, pulling his hair out in frustration.

Jason just grinned. "And you love it, little bat. Admit it."

Bruce massaged his temples, his patience wearing thin. "I’m about to turn this place into a crime scene just to get rid of you."

Jason smirked and strutted out of the room. "Can’t touch me, Bruce. I’m above the law now." He called over his shoulder with a mocking wave, "Catch you later, guys! And remember, chaos is the spice of life!"

Jazz, who had just entered the room, watched the whole scene unfold, looking from one exhausted face to another. "So... I assume Jason’s breaking more laws again?"

Bruce collapsed back into his chair, his hands still covering his face in disbelief. "At this point, he is the law."

Jazz crossed her arms, shaking her head but with a faint smile on her lips. "Well, we’d better get used to it. He’s going to keep doing this, and we’re all stuck cleaning up his mess."

Tim groaned, muttering darkly, "I should have reported him to the GIW when I had the chance."

Damian crossed his arms with a huff. "You all are weak."

Dick chuckled, finally leaning back. "No, Damian, we’re just really tired."

As the rest of the family sighed and rubbed their temples, Bruce shot them all a tired look. "Surviving Jason is not the same thing as thriving."

Jazz raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the door Jason had just disappeared through. "I think you’re giving up too soon. Life’s never boring with him around."

Bruce’s tired chuckle was the only response. At least for today, it seemed, the Batfamily’s most chaotic member was out of the room — but only for a moment.

Tomorrow, who knew what mess Jason would create next?

[zigrethsnotebook]

Hello @zuekdaria and thank you so much for your kind words!!<3 It means a lot to me that you enjoy my little stories so much🥰

I think your ideas are lovely and I would love to morph them into one story featuring Ford, I hope that's alright with you! I hope you enjoy<3

Still waters run deep

Ford x Reader

words: 2,584

tags: sfw, fluff

You had moved to Gravity Falls early this year and needed a job quickly to get your footing. Something that would get you enough money to pass the time until you found the job you wanted. The Mystery Shack, owned and run by Stanford Pines, or Stanley Pines as you later learned, was the perfect place for you.

You were a good worker in Stan's eyes: always on time, never stole anything and did the work he asked of you. However, he was a little puzzled by you. You weren't the most outgoing person. The only times you talked to him instead of the other way around was when you needed something from him. Be it a new task, some clarification on a task or something else entirely.

He also noted that he never even saw you smile. Stan tried to tell you that it would look better for the customers when you greeted them with a smile at the cash register, but he never actually saw you do it.

However, being the massive flirt he is, he tried to get a rise out of you one way or another whenever he had the chance to. You always kept your cool. Unfazed by the old man and his weird but charming persona.

At least that's the way it looked to him. To you, he was slowly becoming your friend. You liked working for him and just generally having him around. So much so that you subconsciously started to put off looking for a different job.

Summer rolled around and you found yourself in the midst of the Pines' family drama. You didn’t mind that much, they had quickly all become very dear to you.

Then, Stan finished the portal and got his brother back. You didn’t know about the portal, of course. So, when you came to work the next day and saw a man who looked like Stan eyeing the souvenirs in the gift shop suspiciously, you didn’t even bat an eye.

At least not until Stan entered the room as well and you had to do a double take. "Ah, perfect. I see you've already met my brother, Ford." Stan's hand came down on his brother's shoulder who looked at him and then to you. "Oh, hello. I didn��t even hear you enter."

Stan laughed loudly. "Yeah, she does that. Not very talkative. But she gets things done and that's what counts." Ford raised an eyebrow at you, scanning you from head to toe. You didn’t flinch under his gaze, quite enjoying his eyes on you.

As much as Stan was charming and good looking when he wanted to be, his brother was something else. They shared the same good looks, of course, but Ford carried himself better. It made him appear taller, more put together. You liked him.

Stan and Ford quickly came to an agreement that Ford would stay in the basement and keep all his science and research down there, for the kids' sake. What that really meant was that Ford barely saw daylight at all. It quickly started to worry you.

The gift shop was slow one day, so you asked Stan about his brother. "Has Ford eaten today?" Your question was short, but Stan was surprised you asked it at all. "Not that I know of. Why, you wanna bring him something?"

"Yes." Stan wished he could read your expression. Were you just concerned about Ford's health? Did you see something in him? Either way, there had to be a reason and he decided to keep a closer eye on you.

After you got an 'okay' from Stan you made your way to the kitchen and prepared a simple meal. You took the plate back into the gift shop where Stan opened the Vending Machine Door for you.

You knocked on the door to his lab and the door swung open on its own. Quietly, you stepped inside, looking around the new room until you reached Ford, sitting at his desk with his back turned to you.

He was too focused on his work to notice you. Without a word you moved next to his desk, moved a few pieces of paper out of the way and placed the plate onto the wooden table.

Moving his papers was what made Ford look up at you with a raised eyebrow. He eyed the plate you set on the desk. "Did Stan put you up to this?" You found his eyes. Gorgeous big brown eyes. "No." You turned around and left again, leaving Ford looking at the door and the plate in bewilderment.

This became a daily routine. At the end of your shift you would prepare a simple warm meal for Ford and bring it to him without saying much or anything at all. You understood how important his work was and you didn’t want to bother him. Just wanted to make sure that he stays healthy.

A few days into this, Ford came up the stairs suddenly and started looking around the shop frantically. "Whoa, whoa, Sixer slow down. What's gotten into you?" Stan held his hands up as he stepped closer to his brother, calming him down.

"I lost... a creature got loose. It must be in the shack somewhere. It-It looks like a little orange fairy." Stan calmed him down further and asked if the fairy would be dangerous. Ford explained that it was entirely harmless, which seemed to ease Stan's worries. He was always so worried for Dipper and Mabel, it was very sweet.

After they both looked around the shack for a while and came up empty-handed Ford went back down with a sigh and Stan went back to his office. You sat at the register, reading a book. Stan didn’t mind you reading a book at work as long as you did all the things you needed to do.

After a few minutes something caught your eye. At first you thought it was a bee, zooming around the shop but as you looked more closely, you realized that it looked like a little person. This was the perfect opportunity to help Ford with his research.

You grabbed an empty jar from behind your counter and quietly made your way over to the shirt that the fairy was looking at. In one swift movement you put the jar over the fairy, using the shirt as a lid until you quickly put the actual lid on the jar.

You were careful not to shake the jar too much as you made your way to Ford's lab. Down there, Ford was scribbling away in his journal again. Without a word you carefully placed the jar on his desk. He looked up at you with wide eyes. "Thank you!"

You just nodded and headed back upstairs. God, the look on his face was everything to you. You wanted to see his face light up like that again. The rest of your shift you spent daydreaming about Ford and his big brown eyes. Surely, you would see them in your dreams that night.

When your shift was coming to an end you once again prepared something for Ford to eat and brought it to him. "You know you don't actually have to bring me food every day, right?" You looked at Ford. "I know." He furrowed his brows. "Then why do you do it?"

You thought for a moment, not quite brave enough to tell him just how much you care for him. "It makes me happy." Ford's expression softened and he chuckled lightly. "Well, you could have fooled me. I was worried you saw this as just another chore."

"I don't." Ford smiled at you and you felt like you were about to melt on the spot. "Well, in that case, thank you very much for looking out for me." You nodded and left the lab again.

Ford looked at the door for a moment after you were gone. He could not read you at all. It drove him a little wild. He seriously thought you hated having to come down here every day until mere moments ago.

He continued his work for a little while after he had eaten your food. Then, as he brought the empty plate back upstairs and found Stan in the kitchen as well, he decided to talk to him about you. But Stan was quicker.

"So. How's the food?" He smirked at his brother as he watched Ford clean the plate. "It's really good. But you know that already." Stan raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ford looked at Stan as he clarified. "I mean, you know her food is great because you ate it, too?" Stan scoffed. "No, smart guy. She only makes it for you." This took Ford by surprise.

To think that you only brought him food? Made it only for him? Why would you do that? Ford looked at his brother for help in organizing his thoughts. Stan chuckled at Ford's confused expression.

"Well, if I didn’t know any better, I'd think she has a crush on you." Ford stilled. Could that be? "But you know better?" Stan laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say I do."

Ford went back to his lab, trying to clear his head with science. But now, all he could think about was you.

Life continued the same as before. You came to work, did it quietly and efficiently. At the end of your shift you prepare some food for Ford and bring it to him. And, over the course of a few days, you watched his expressions change.

He had started out barely acknowledging you and the plate at all but now, every day he smiled a little smile at you. It made your heart flutter while also feeling appreciated for the work you were doing.

Today was another slow day in the shop when Dipper and Mabel stormed into the room. Dipper was holding something and looked to be running away from his sister. It was her glue gun.

Dipper had backed himself into a wall as Mabel tried to reach for the object. "Mabel! Grunkle Ford's Journal doesn't need to look cute! It's serious scientific research!" Mabel stood on her tiptoes, reaching upwards. "Science can be cute, too!"

A gentle smile graced your lips as you watched them. You put your book down and walked over to them. Being taller than both of them, you plucked the glue gun from Dipper's hand, turning both of their attentions to you.

"Mabel, I know you mean well. But maybe ask your Grunkle if he wants a cute journal?" She looked at you with big puppy eyes. "But... what if he says no?" You smiled at her. "Then I will let you turn my journal cute."

Mabel's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on her face before she hugged you. She quickly made her way down to the lab. Dipper looked at you suspiciously. "You write a journal?" You hummed. "Not a big scientific one. But I like to keep track of my life."

Dipper nodded in approval and then walked back to whichever part of the house he came from. You walked back to the register and placed the glue gun in one of the shelves behind it.

You didn’t know it at the time, but Stan watched every bit of this interaction between you and the kids through the security camera. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you smile at them. And you talked so much!

He took the tape and made his way to Ford as inconspicuous as possible to show his brother this new side of you. When Ford saw it, it warmed his heart. The men only knew you as this cold exterior, but to see some of the warmth underneath it? He wanted to see more of it.

Ford asked Stan for some more of the security camera footage of you. Stan raised a brow at him but obliged anyway. Ford had to look through the videos, surely, this hadn't been the first time you had some reaction to something?

On a tape from two days ago he found something. You were reading a book like you so often do when not much needs to be done. And there he saw it, the slighted crease between your eyebrows and the tiniest tilt of your lips downward. You were frowning at your book!

Ford felt like a child at Christmas, giddy from seeing you express any emotion at all. He now had a new mission. A new experiment if you want. He wanted to hear your laugh.

A few more days passed and somehow, Ford felt like you were even more distant. And he hadn't even started on his new mission. But you weren't even meeting his eyes anymore when you brought him food. Said even less.

He made his way upstairs, feeling it necessary to ask you about it. But when he got to the gift shop, you weren't there. Ford looked around the house but didn’t find you. Eventually, he decided to climb to the roof. An elevated position would surely help locate you if you were outside.

But he didn’t need to look anymore, because you were sitting on the little balcony, quietly sobbing. He felt his heart shatter.

Carefully, he moved to sit next to you and as he did you silently jumped, not having noticed him join you. "Hey, it's alright. I didn’t mean to startle you." You sniffled, wiping the tears from your face and trying to keep it together.

"What happened ...if I may ask?" He was careful, he didn’t want to scare you off with being too forward. But he also wanted nothing more than to hug you tightly and tell you that everything would be alright.

"Too much..." You shook your head, sorting your thoughts before continuing. "Job search is not going well." Ford felt something in his chest tighten. You wanted to leave the shack? "My landlord is about to throw me out. And my family wants me to-" Your voice broke off, unable to finish.

Ford looked at you. "Would a hug help?" You looked at him as well, meeting his eyes, your tear stained cheeks reflecting the sunlight in a bittersweet picture. You nodded.

Ford's expression softened as he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. After a moment you let your arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer, as you took the warmth radiating off of him in. It helped to ground you, remind you that not everything is terrible.

Letting his own affection for you overwhelm him, Ford pressed a gentle kiss into your hair. The moment lingered for a little bit. Then, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You pulled away from him, feeling better. "Thank you."

Ford nodded, offering a smile. You two sat next to each other for a while, just enjoying the view and each other.

Even though he hadn't reached his goal of hearing you laugh yet, Ford felt like he was slowly getting through to you. Slowly understanding you. He felt pride in being the one to help you feel better today.

And maybe he could talk to your landlord for you. Or he would just offer you to stay here with him, even though that would be way too direct. Either way, he looked forward to every moment he would be able to spend with you.

[zo2mess]

Laundry girl

Summary: Laundromat is usually empty so late at night except for Adrian, until it isn’t. But there is no reason for him to get nervous around his new laundry buddy, right?

Warnings: mentions of violence, mention of death, mention of period blood, foul language and that’s all? If you notice something that might be triggering, just let me know. Also female reader and no use Y/N as far as I remember.

Word count: 3.8K

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: My ongoing brain rot with Vigilante, inspiration from the song Laundry Girl from Ludo (I politely stole a lot from their lyrics) and need to practice my English before test somehow escalated into this. This is a mess, nothing makes sense idk. Honestly, I have no idea why I decided to make it public, but hey, bad content is still content right? English is not my first language, so if you see any grammar mistakes or weird words, just ignore them. However every criticism is welcomed and appreciated.

Oh, the sweet contrast of late spring. Days warm enough to let bare skin be caressed by heating sun, yet cold nights leave shivers down the spine, a fleeting reminder that the carelessness of summer is not entirely there yet.

Exactly on one of those nights, Adrian found himself in a 24-hour laundromat down the street from his small apartment. Neon lights from the sign were illuminating dark streets as well as the faint lights from inside.

He didn’t like that smell that lingered in the air. Fragrances from detergents that are far too strong and mix in an unpleasant whiff, plus the disinfection and the smell from forgotten socks that got stuck somewhere between a wall and washing machine. No, thanks. He could buy his own washing machine, which would be much more practical, but why make anything easy when you can make it difficult.

When Adrian entered the familiar environment, he sighed at the strong smell hitting his nose. Temperature in the laundromat was slightly warmer than the one outside, but not enough for him to take off his hoodie. Adrian settled his bag with dirty clothes on a scraped metal table in the middle of the cramped room.

There was one thing he liked about this laundromat, even though it was open almost nonstop, no one was ever there late at night like he was.

Usually.

Sometimes few drunks were sleeping peacefully in the corner, desperately seeking just a tad bit of warmth, but as long they didn’t do anything, Adrian had no reason to pay any attention to them.

Tonight was different, his regular loneliness and peace was disturbed by another person entering the room. However screeching of old doors, quick gust of cold air and heavy tired footsteps did not alert him at all.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked with a soft voice, a smile on your face while you looked at the stranger in front of you expectantly "I don’t want to call myself a professional, but I can pretty much clean every stain. Or at least I haven’t been defeated so far,"

His mind was too focused on a single task before him, getting rid of dried blood that was plastered on his black undershirt. The one he wears under his chest plate, one that was stitched up too many times from all the slashing and tearing.

Will he ever buy a new one? Of course not.

Not until he finds a shirt that looks and feels the same as this one. Adrian cursed the guy that got his suit in such disheveled state. That bastard deserved a bullet to his head even before he managed to get Vigilante’s suit all messy and sticky with blood.

Your question caught him off guard, his hands wincing a little. Green eyes glancing up at you with startled expression. When did you get here? Were you watching him the whole time? Crouched up above his shirt, scrubbing away with bile soap, tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration. You leaned across the table, examining his work. "Ketchup?"

"Blood actually," Why would it be ketchup? He doesn’t even like ketchup. It does not taste like tomatoes at all! Goddamn lying sauce. "I got a really bad nosebleed. I get that a lot, that’s why my clothes are always bloody." No other reason of course.

"If your clothes are always bloody you should have no problem with cleaning them right? But I gotta admit blood is a hell of an enemy when it dries and sits on the fabric for a while. Just put it in cold water to soak off, that should do it."

"Why do you know so much about cleaning blood?" Adrian asked with suspicion in his voice. Eyebrows furrowed under his glasses and his eyes stared at you intently. Paranoia creeping up on him again.

"Well I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a woman. Periods teach you a lot. I’m not some blood-stained killer I swear." You said the last sentence with a wide smile, shaking your head before returning to your own work. Throwing dirty laundry into the washing machine without even glancing back at Adrian. He was standing there with fingers tapping on the metal table, burning a hole in the back of your skull with his stare. Yeah, you better not be. He thought to himself.

He forced a smile and went back to scrubbing, he did not have the time to soak it off, he needed it ready for tomorrow, preferably without blood. You paid him no mind and pushed the button to start the cycle. With a sigh you took out a small book from the laundry basket you brought with you and sat down on a screeching chair nestled between other washing machines. If you have to sit it out here you might as well do something productive.

"Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy," his voice made you flinch and you glanced at him absentmindedly "I love that movie!"

"Book’s even better." You acknowledged his giddiness with simple words. The truth is you enjoyed reading books after you watched movies that were based on them. Sometimes they were better, sometimes worse, but they always expanded the story and the universe.

"Reading is for nerds plus it can’t be that much better." Doubting Thomas, of course. Adrian quickly waved off the idea that books can be better than movies.

"There is extremely many things that did not make it in the movie, not gonna mention directive changes. But go on, live your life without all the great details." You returned to your reading, barely registering quiet mumbling coming from Adrian’s direction.

"My washing machine broke and I don’t have spare money to buy a new one. I’ll be coming here until my next salary" The other option was attempting to fix it yourself, that would be a death sentence for the washing machine and you as well.

"What are you doing here anyway? I come here almost every Saturday and I am alone here." He wouldn't drop it, curiosity gets the better of him most of the time, why would this be any different? It was suspicious that another girl is washing her laundry in the middle of the night.

The fact he was currently getting rid of blood from the undershirt he wears out to kill criminals is an entirely different story.

"But why so late? It’s way past midnight."

"Couldn’t sleep." You just shrugged. You did not care if he believed you or not, it was true. Your new neighbors were blasting music practically all evening, it was better to wait it out elsewhere. "It seems we will be meeting each other more often. I didn’t catch your name."

The more time you spent together in the chilly room, words drowned out by buzzing washing machines, the more you got along. Starting off with awkward small talk, through petty debate whenever books are better than movies, all the way to wishing each other goodnight as well as Adrian wishing you had a monster under your bed and parting ways. Only if he knew monster wasn’t the one creeping up on you in your sleep. Thoughts of tonight busying your mind.  

"It’s Adrian." His voice was hesitant, suspicion rising and falling with each word you said. He’s not sure if you are a poor soul with dirty laundry or a spy hired to watch the infamous Vigilante.

How would you even know his secret identity? He had no idea, but sometimes it is better to account for all possibilities.

You nodded at his answer and told him your name in return. Little something he burned into the back of his mind.

------------

The second time he met you was two weeks from the last encounter, just the way he mentioned previously. This time you were there first, already occupying one machine with white clothes while the other part of your laundry sat in a basket nearby. You quickly shot him a smile and he greeted you in return.

"You’re here early." Adrian commented almost under his breath as he put full duffel bag on the table and began sorting his clothes by colors.

"Yeah well, no reason for it really. Maybe curiosity got the best of me and I got here earlier just to see if you would came like you said you would." It seems that old habits die hard. Unknown to you, Adrian was always on time in his routines. Even if he wanted to do his laundry on a different day or at a different time, his body would urge him to do things in the exact same way.

She’s joking, Adrian, don’t sweat it out. There is no way she could kill anyone. His inner thoughts creep up to him again. From time to time, he would appreciate if his Vigilante mind left Adrian alone. "So uhhh… You don’t like cheesy jokes?" Yeah, great save, do not mention hanging Debbie.

The conversation went on quite smoothly, like good old friends meeting. Usual chatter about their days, unnecessary details of “total baller” breakfast from Adrian’s side, gossip about migraine-inducing coworkers from yours.

Adrian attention was glued to every word you said, piece by piece putting together a bigger picture. He can’t even remember the last time someone actually wanted to talk with him and not just wave him off with dismissive answers.

"- And then she put a fucking poster on our shared fridge. That stupid one with cat on a tree with “Hang in there” under it. And I thought our office could not get any more stereotypical," you were throwing your hands around, visibly stating your annoyance at your coworker Debbie.

"I don’t want to “Hang in there” I would much rather hang myself and I swear to God I will hang her in janitor’s closet if she puts another poster on the fridge or tells me a cheesy joke about how much she hates her husband, it’s not funny"

"I like jokes, just not stupid ones. To be honest I can’t remember the last time someone told me a funny joke. I guess it is a curse of modern times, humor changed." You shrugged your shoulders and walked around the crumpled room, looking around and taking in details you missed on your first visit.

"I could tell you a funny joke. I know plenty of them!" Adrian’s enthusiasm made you stop in your tracks. He’s just standing there, a wide smile forming on his face, fingers fidgeting with hem of dirty shirt that laid in mountain of laundry on the table in front of him.

Even if you told him no, Adrian had decided to recite every joke he knew. Some of them were horrible, some of them were… better. Yet it did not made you laugh.

It was a fun game to pass the time, he told you lousy jokes and after each one he patiently waited for your reaction with puppy eyes.

You, on the other hand, had tried so hard to not even let a corner of your mouth turn upwards. The bigger satisfaction it brought the more he stammered as he tried to remember another joke. Adrian could not let himself be a loser in this situation. He will not give up.

"Knock knock," he started again, determined to win this imaginary joke war.

Not laughing at his jokes should be illegal. And that would make you a criminal. In that case, he would not feel bad if he had to take you out as Vigilante.

And maybe if he got rid of you, he wouldn’t feel that irritating need late at night, body itching to go to the laundromat near his apartment to see if you couldn’t sleep either.

If you’re scrubbing spilled wine from your shirt with cheap detergent before throwing it in a washing machine with the rest of your clothes.

If you’re waiting patiently not only for your clothes to dry but also for that funny stranger with curly hair and a dorky smile to show up.

Maybe then his mind would calm down again. He doesn’t need any more distractions in his head.

"Knock knock," a firmer repetition. He’s not going to get discouraged.

"Come in," you retorted while a chuckle was threatening to slip from your lips. Adrian’s arms slouched down his body, enthusiasm transforming into…

Annoyance?

He so desperately wanted to see you smile, why couldn't you comply?

People usually laugh at his jokes, or more like they laugh at him. No matter the reason, people occasionally laugh in his presence alongside constant eye rolls. You haven’t done either and it is messing with him.

"Who’s there?" this time you decided to go along with his joke. These types of jokes are… foul, but you just want to see where he will land with it.

Determination is admirable in certain situations, in others it just leads to doom.  Like that one time when Adrian was chasing a thief down the street, low on bullets, ringing in his ears, lungs burning, but he could not forgive himself if that rat got away. All his attention was set on the dark figure way ahead of him that he did not notice a car when he sprinted across a badly lit street, ultimately knocking him down. Heavens were on his side that night, nothing serious happened except for a few nasty bruises and unrelenting remorse that haunted him following weeks.

But the good kind of determination? That’s gonna win him a smile from a pretty girl in the laundromat.

"Honey bee,"

"Honey bee who?"

"Honey bee a dear and get that for me please?" Adrian said it with a wide smile and excitement in his voice. He pointed at your laundry beads that boost the scent. "It smells so good when you open it, can I try it?"

You laughed just a bit. Fucking finally.

Now Adrian felt like at the top of the world. He made you laugh, no matter if it was just a pitying laugh to get him to shut up, he decided to believe you actually found him funny and no one could take that from him.

You noticed the dreamy look that plastered his face, especially when you let him borrow scented beads. Part of you cherished the fact he liked the ones you washed your clothes with every time and part of Adrian cherished the fact that now his clothes will smell like you before it wears out.

That his sleeping shirt will carry part of you on those nights that he doesn’t see you here.

Wait, when did that happen?

Smell of another person on his clothes should weird him out, it should give him goosebumps all over his pale skin. Why does it sound so comforting this time? Why does he want to keep part of you close?

The last time he felt something similar was when his brother Gut died. They weren’t super close, but his death hit him like a train and he quite literally became a trainwreck. Adrian sat in his brother’s childhood room for hours, taking notes of all the small details, remembering the exact position of each and every piece of furniture. And at times when he felt close to breaking into tears, he took out his brother’s shirts. The familiarity and memories brought comfort. Comfort that disappeared as fast as it came.

This time he was not mourning death of someone close to him, this time he did not miss the feeling of adrenaline that he felt with Peacemaker when they shot appliances in forest or when they killed criminals together before he got locked up.

This time Adrian felt a need to be close to someone he met just a few weeks ago, someone who barely knew him and had not gotten the chance to be taken back by his weirdness.

------------------

These thoughts and confusion followed him home that night. Not even the cold air could not break him out of trance. The way you laughed, the way you softly wished him goodnight when you parted ways, skin illuminated by purple neon light hanging above laundromat, and the way his now clean laundry smells like you since he begged for your scented beads.

Pull yourself together Adrian.

"I don’t understand how you might think Fargo is better than the Office or Better Call Saul for example. Saying it is the best show ever made is crazy" Friendly banter about TV series was accompanied by clicking of your flip-flops as you made your way towards your apartment complex just a couple blocks away from the laundromat.

Adrian had insisted that he walks you home this time, apparently he was afraid you might "fall asleep on your way home" since you two spent almost the whole night in the laundromat.

Sun was lazily rising, yellow painted the sky but few dark clouds were spoiling the otherwise beautiful picture. The smell of rain was in the air, you both knew there was a storm coming on a calm Sunday morning. Few joggers passed you in a hurry. Early birds. Psychopaths. Not like Adrian wasn’t psychotic at least a bit, but he wasn’t that mad to get up so early to run in still-cold weather.

Not just doing laundry, you also brought your book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and read out loud for him to hear the difference between book and movie.

While you waited for your clothes to dry you two sat on uncomfortable chairs, you with book wide open, pages visible for Adrian to peek from behind your shoulder whenever he wanted. Though most of the time he spent with his eyes closed, face leaning on a stock of washing machines next to him, listening to your reading like a bedtime story.

Even after your laundry was done you decided to stick around, competing who flicks quarters farthest, catching peanuts in your mouth and testing echo in every washing machine. Until you finally decided to head home and get at least few hours of sleep, by that time it was past 5 a.m.

"What do you think is the best show then?" he calmly asked and nudged your shoulder with his own, encouraging you to answer.

"That show is like 100 years old! Dinosaurs watched it!" Adrian shook his head with laughter. You didn’t find his jokes funny but you loved this out of all the shows. Unbelievable.

"Well… I think the best show is The Kids in the Hall, undying classic." You knew your walk slowly but surely reached its end. You could see your main entrance, the fact you were reaching your home was setting you aflame in the worst way possible.

Nonetheless, your eyelids grew heavy and you could not stop yourself from yawning every few seconds, an unavoidable need to fall into your bed and surrender to sweet slumber.

"Hey! If you call that show old, it is like you’re calling yourself old! Should I call nursing to pick you up?" You stopped in front of your apartment complex, not entirely sure if Adrian realized this is where your hangout ends. You turned around to face him and quickly jabbed him in the chest with your finger.

"Ha ha, very funny. But really? So many good shows and you pick this one? And call me out for liking Fargo? You have horrible taste." He couldn’t let this go now he saw how adorable you looked when you were angry. What is the worst that can happen if he teases you more, right?

"Shut it, Adrian. I’m serious." You said that so calmly it almost took him aback, however he could see the fire burning behind your eyes. It only riled him up more.

"You can’t make me-"

Oh, you could.

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down swiftly. The best solution to shut him up was to press your lips against his. A firm, simple kiss that sent electricity through your body.

You felt a muffled yelp that escaped Adrian’s mouth when you surprised him in such an affectionate manner. And at that moment, when your lips touched his, for the first time in a while his mind was quiet, yet his soul was singing.

Time stopped, eyes were tightly shut, heart hammering inside, begging to jump out of his chest, one of his hands found its place on your forearm in uncertainty and took a step closer to get his body closer to you.

You, on the other hand, were fully aware of what was happening. The feeling of gratification that you “won” an argument was the last thing on your mind.

The only thing you could think of was acting up on your secret wishes that swam through your head every time you went to the laundromat to see him.

Suddenly aware of everything, you felt the heat that radiated from Adrian’s body, warming you up in cold air, a few raindrops making you shiver as they fell on your skin. Or were you shivering from the closeness of this intimate act? If anyone asked you would not be able to answer. It did not matter anyway, the only thing that mattered was you kissing him.

The kiss lasted only for a few seconds, but you would both swear it was an eternity. When you pulled away, slowly and delicately, Adrian still had eyes closed, hand hanging in the air where your arm used to be. You realized his mind was completely shut off. A smile formed on your lips at the thought of shutting Adrian up this way every time he brings up some stupid nonsensical squabble.

You left him standing there as rain started to fall on his hair, diamonds in those dark brown curls. And when he finally came to his senses and decided to open his eyes…

You were gone.

Coldness on his body where you were pressed together, sparks lingering on lips, sweet perfume filling his nose, those should be indicators that it was very much real, but his mind was not certain. How could it be, when the stupid brain ceased the second his dreams came true.

You quickly ran upstairs to your apartment, running up to the window in your kitchen and from behind a curtain you watched confused Adrian, who was walking in the opposite direction.

What other choice did you leave him than to head home and wonder.

Wonder about what you were doing when raindrops splattered on the sidewalk, sounding like your flip-flops.

Wonder if you’re already sleeping safe and sound in your bedroom like he will when he reaches his home.

Wonder if you kiss him again once you see each other next week in the laundromat.

Wonder if the laundry girl was real or just a dream.

[number1jeonginstan]

oky so ik u got an ask from ddyskz  about a similar thing but can you do some of the following (seungmin, han, lee know or bang chan) as perv best friends???? idk... its fine if not but i just love your work <3

also can i be /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ anon?

A/N: Hi hi!! I loved this request, so let me know if you want a part two! I’m so thankful that you are loving my work!!! Ofc you can be /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ anon!!!

WC:1.2k 

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: BestFriend Perv!Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: m!masturbation, pervy Seungmin, that’s basically it!

You and Seungmin had been close friends ever since you both debuted. You had accidentally run into him, head-first behind the music bank stage. You ended up profusely apologizing, feeling so embarrassed and he just laughed, saying it was alright. 

From then on, the entire week of promotions, you both were hanging out in secret. It was like a new friendship blossomed between the two of you. You both had similar interests, causing you both to talk a lot more. By the end of the week, you two had exchanged numbers. 

As the years went on, you and Seungmin got closer, constantly hanging out with one another in secret. Sometimes it was just getting coffee, other times you were asking each other for advice on your vocals. One thing no one could take away from you was your guys’s Sunday drama watches. 

You would either go to Seungmin’s dorm, or he would come to yours and the both of you would binge-watch whatever new drama came out. This month was Daily Dose of Sunshine. You ended up coming over to Seungmin’s dorm seeing as the boys had gone back to their houses for the weekend. Seungmin’s family was out on a trip, so he stayed home. It worked perfectly for you as well because your group's new promotions had finally ended, meaning you could indulge in being lazy for a few days. 

You knocked on their dorm door, waiting for Seungmin to open it up. “Open the damn door!” you whined, pounding on it a bit more harshly. He finally did, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only some plaid pajamas. “Put some clothes on you weirdo,” you said, walking to his room, taking off your jacket, and lying down on his bed.

You were dressed in just a tank top and pajama shorts, knowing that you both would be glued to his bed for hours.  

“Why are you here?” he groaned, putting on a shirt from his cupboard. “Did you forget?” 

“Oh shit, what drama were we supposed to watch this month?” he asked, sitting on the bed, putting your splayed-out legs on his lap. “Nuh uh, it’s a secret” you giggled getting up and taking out your laptop from your bag. “Now please go get some snacks,” you said, pushing him lightly off the bed. 

“Okay your highness” he groaned, getting up and taking a good look at you. You were curled up at his headboard, your knees pressed against your chest while your laptop was splayed on his bed, ready to start the next episode. You looked good, too good. No makeup on your face, your hair a bit crazy, but still looking as pretty as ever. 

Every time you guys did this, he always had to jerk off after you left. The scent of you in his bed was too overbearing, and you always pressed against him the entire time you guys watched the show, never leaving his side. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. 

He came back with a handful of snacks and some drinks, knowing that you would complain about being thirsty and then he would have to get up again and it would cause a whole fiasco. “How much longer Minnie?” you groaned, growing impatient. “Coming, you weirdo” 

“I was wondering, what do you want to eat for lunch, my treat,” you grinned at him. While you were gone, you stole one of his hoodies, it was already over-sized on him, but on you, it looked like a dress. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants, you looked so fucking good in his clothes. 

“Whatever you want,” he said, getting into his bed next to you. He slipped his legs under the blanket, you following suit. You curled up next to him, starting the show. It was peaceful, three episodes went by like this, your koala bear wrapped around him, your head in his lap while his arms were wrapped around yours. 

What you didn’t feel, was his cock slowly getting harder at every movement you made around him. “Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” You got up from his embrace, accidentally falling directly on top of him, your cunt brushing against his clothed cock. You didn’t think much of it, but Seungmin was trying his best to not let out a groan. It was getting to be too much for him. 

As you went to the bathroom, he tried re-adjusting his cock in his pants, trying to hide his growing boner from you in fear you would think it was weird. You came back without his sweatshirt, making an excuse that you were getting too hot, and the blanket was enough. 

As you got back into the bed, you curled up against him, your chest pressing against the side of his body. He began feeling hot, there was one thing when you were wearing a hoodie while hugging him, but wearing just a tank top was too much. He tried not to shift a lot, barely paying attention to the show playing in front of him. 

Before he could say anything, he heard your snores coming from beside him. You began moaning in your sleep and he could no longer take it. He looked over to see your tits spilling out from the shirt you were wearing and gently got up, not wanting to disturb you. He rushed to the bathroom, not knowing how long he had until you woke up and tried taking full advantage of it. 

He locked the door, double-checking to make sure you couldn’t come in, and slowly took out his already hardened cock from the confines of his pants. He slowly began stroking it, using the pre-cum the tip of his cock as a lubricant. All he could think about was your tits, and how good they would look with his cum covering them. 

How he would fuck you so well while you were wearing his hoodie. He would fuck you anywhere you asked, even in his changing room during promotions if you asked. That made him think back to the outfit you were wearing for your most recent comeback. You pulled off the girl crush clothes perfectly, what he would do to fuck you from behind in that mini skirt you were wearing. When you were learning the new dance for the tiktok you both made, your tits were bouncing perfectly in your top. 

He groaned, putting the bottom of his shirt in his mouth, scared that you might hear him. You ended up waking up from your nap, getting up, and knocking on the door to the bathroom, thinking he just got in there. “Minnie, are you okay?” you asked your voice still groggy from your nap, and it made him groan. The way you said his voice was enough to make him cum. 

He began stroking his cock faster, needing to feel some sort of a release. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute, I just am feeling kinda hot, I’m trying to cool down.” 

“Okay Minnie” you giggled from behind the door, “I’m going to order some food for us!” 

You went back to the bed, while he finally found his release thinking about your moans on his bed, cumming all over his stomach. Thank god he didn’t get caught, or did he?  

[plussizefantasia]

Hiiii! I just discovered your blog and I LOVE ITTT and can I request either Thorins company or just Fíli x reader where reader is the one to kill Azog and then almost dies and loses consiousness for a while??

LMAO why does that sound like such a pick me scenario now that I actually typed it out😭😭 well anyway, I hope youre doing well :)))

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long but between my Internship, actual school work, and my job I don't have much time to write. I hope this is what you wanted because I enjoyed writing it!

Fili x Reader

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: Violence and battle, almost dying, follows the request pretty closely

There was too much going on around you for any one thing to stick in your mind. The past hours, days, weeks hell even months were a blur of exciting moments to exciting moments where you escaped certain death more times than you could count on your fingers. It was overwhelming to sit and think about, so you didn’t.

You didn’t have time to think, you had to fight. You had to fight the elves who threatened your kingdom’s door, you had to fight the men who aided the Elves and then suddenly you had to fight the monstrous creatures who burst through the very earth in front of you. 

If anyone were to ask why you fight, the answer you’d give them would be ‘for my kingdom’, there is a duty and honor in fighting for your king and the mountain he is destined to rule. But that answer wouldn’t be entirely true, sure you fought for the king, but not because he was the king. You fought for Thorin because fighting for Thorin was fighting for Fili, the heir and the dwarf who stole your heart. 

You aided the throne, and it helped that the dwarves who sat upon it were like family. You would die for the line of Durin, you’d kill for them. 

So when you saw those idiot men, full charge on the back of a ram up to Ravenhill and directly into danger you pushed yourself harder than you ever had to get to them in time. You ran up the incline, slashing at any foe in your way. Your mind clear of all except your goal, to get to him, to protect him, to hold him in your arms.

The number of enemies thins out as you reach the top, only a few orcs stay near to the tower and they are taken out easily. You push yourself harder.

Finally, with shaking hands and cuts on your fingers from the jagged rocky edge, you rise above the summit and haul yourself into a standing position, quickly spinning and taking stock of what awaited you.

Thorin, Dwalin, Kili, and Fili are standing in a huddle near the center of the ice. Thorin gives commands and the others nod before splitting off.

Splitting off?! What kind of daft idea is that? You shake your head and scoff under your breath before once again launching into a run to meet up with your beloved and his brother. 

Quietly you slip into the stone structure behind them following the princes as they make their way up the semi-exposed stairway.

You only speak up when Fili utters his ridiculous plan about splitting up even further, you tell him as such.

“That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard you say out loud, amralime.” Both princes make their best impressions of spinning tops and snap their gaze to your slightly amused one. “Three is better than one in all scenarios, we shall go together and give ourselves a fighting chance.” Your tone left no room for discussion and you motioned for the boys to continue onwards. 

The princes in all their chivalry sandwiched you, Fili in front of you, and Kili behind, all three of your heads were on a swivel. It wasn’t until you almost reached the top that you motioned for your little party to stop and listen.

You didn’t understand black speech but you knew what it sounded like, and though it was soft you could hear a conversation occurring on the other side of the wall you were hiding behind. 

You shift slightly, going to whisper the plan to your companions but before you can the brothers have managed to have what you can only assume was an idiotic silent conversation sealed with a singular nod at each other.

Because one moment, they are crouched behind the wall with you, and the next they are letting out a battle cry and rushing over the wall and directly into unknown danger. You’d take the time to roll your eyes and bang your head against the rock if you had the time. However, you need to jump into action, so you do.

Launching yourself over the wall only moments after the brothers, your eyes lock onto their fight immediately. Four or five orcs, all armored and armed to the tooth tower over the dwarf princes and slash at them from all angles. 

You run through the empty space whenever you see it slashing the sides that the orcs leave open and decapitating them whenever given the chance. Together you take down three before you hear a shout from Kili and the movement around you freezes.

You also freeze when your eyes land on the sight of your lover and future husband in the grasp of Azog the Defilier. He dangles Fili over the edge and speaks loudly down to whoever is standing below. 

You do not hesitate before acting, taking too long lunges and readying your sword you launch yourself at the back of the pale orc, fully sheathing your sword into the space where his heart should be and pushing both of you off the side of the wall face. 

If you had given this plan any thought at all you would’ve deemed it as idiotic as the plans the men had made, but all you saw in that moment was the life of the dwarf you loved, in danger. You acted swiftly and without thought and it could very well cost you your own life. 

You watch as Azog’s grip on Fili loosens and the dwarf is released from his grasp, falling oolong side you and into the snow piled at the bottom of the wall. A fall that will surely bruise him but he would survive and that is all that matters.

Nobody tells you how it feels to fall to your death, it must only take seconds, and yet it feels like a lifetime. An entire lifetime rushing past you, the wind blowing through your hair, and the view blurring out of focus. Eventually, like all things that fall you reach the ground.

You are not fortunate like Fili to land in a snowbank, instead, you land atop the body of an Orc, your head crashing against the ice as you try to roll off of him. 

The orc is unmoving next to you as you stare into the sky above you, your breathing is labored and your vision is growing dim. 

Is this what it feels like to die?

You see Fili’s concerned face hover above your own before everything goes dark, you think you smile but you can’t be too sure.

Your vision is restored all at once, and the first thing you clock is that the view is different. Where you last looked upon the bright sky, with your lover’s face gazing down on you, now you only see dark stone and wooden beams, caressed by the flickering light that indicated a fire nearby.

You hear the cracking of wood and nothing else. You take a moment to do a mental scan of your body. There is a slight pain in all of your limbs and you’re reminded of a knife wound you took to the thigh. The most prominent is the dull but persistent ache radiating from the back of your head. 

You try to sit up to get a clearer picture of what is happening, moving makes the pain worse but it is still not the worst you have felt so you push on. Groaning under your breath you make yourself stand. 

You get a better look at your surroundings, the room your in is decidedly dwarvish, the intricate carvings in the wall, and the build of the fireplace enough to give that away. You were in a room inside the mountain, presumably, one in the furthest reach of the east wings, where the dragon damage was less severe. 

While you stand and gaze around the space you find yourself in, the door to the room opens slowly, and in walks a blond dwarf with a braid matching your own. He carries a tray of food in his arms and doesn’t look up immediately.

When he does he freezes, looking your body up and down and up once more. He blinks twice and a smile with the brightness of the Arkenstone itself radiates from his face. The tray is cast aside onto the table in the center of the room and he takes quick strides to get to you.

He wastes no time pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your hair. 

“You are awake.” He mutters into your locks.

“I think so.” You reply.

“You have been asleep for a week, I carried you down from Ravenhill myself. You were looked at by both Oin and an elvish healer. It was terrifying.”

“More terrifying than fighting a dragon?” You try to tease. It doesn’t land.

“Yes.” Is his serious reply. “You did not hear the sound of your head hitting the ice, nor did you feel the panic I felt when you wouldn’t open your eyes again.” His words are fierce and full of fire, contrasting with the almost delicate hold he has on your body.

“I am sorry.” You whisper. “I did not think, I just saw you in danger and the rest was instinct.” 

“I understand, but I am still not happy.” Fili pulls back slightly and looks into your eyes as he speaks.

You match his gaze, “I can live with that.” You place a singular delicate kiss on his lips, smiling at the feel of his mustache braids on your face. The coolness of the beads makes you feel alive. And you are glad for it.

“Thorin wishes to see you. I promised I would tell him when you woke.”

“Why does he want to see me?” You ask.

“Maybe because you saved his heir and killed the orc that had been hunting us for nearly half a year?” Fili cocks his head to the side and smirks at you. 

“It is bad to say that I wish to spend a little more time with you before being unleashed into the grasp of the rest of the Company?”

“Only if it is also bad that I wish the same thing,” is his easy reply. “How about we just eat for now and then we can decide what to do next after that, hmm?” His voice is soothing and his idea favorable. You nod and he smiles again.

So you two spend the rest of that evening together, talking, eating and hodling onto one another. 

Both of you are sure that this is not the last battle you will face together, but this one ended well and you will cherish the moments of peace in each others company.

The rest of the world can wait.

[tricksh0t]

★ comfort

☾ jaime lannister x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ prince charming jaime lannister (s1 jaime) is my fav; also genuinely the first fic of mine where the pairing kisses lip to lip

𝘴𝘩𝘰��𝘴 ⛥ 3.0k words

cw: long intro, lighthearted s*x, reunion s*x, soft, cheating, light incest (don't sue me, it's game of thrones, they're very distant cousins however many times removed) , calling your lover names playfully (bastard, asshole), more plot than porn (entire second part is s*x, but not focused on the s*x)

"Did you grow up with boy-cousins, Lord Tywin? Sons of your father's bannermen, squires, stable boys."

"Of course."

"And you... never..?"

"No."

"Not once? Not in any way?"

"Never."

You were never destined for anything.

You were born a Lannister, yes, but you were so far from the main line that you were set to inherit nothing. You were only a Lannister by name, long lines of second sons marrying outside of important houses over and over until your blonde locks were nothing but dirty.

Your father did not own a large sum of Lannister fortune. His greatest achievement was being the squire of one of Tywin's lesser brothers; but his brother never lead any wars, and so that was hardly a feat anyway.

When you were born, it seemed like you would follow in your father's footsteps. There was hardly anything Lannister about you.

Your greatest feat would probably be setting foot in Casterly Rock to shovel horse shit to and fro. At least then you'd get to admire your distant cousins, the glorious ones, the ones you'd use in your fantasies as the shoes you'd like to wear.

Except, one day you stole a sword and caught the eye of Tywin's lesser brother, the very same that your father had squired for. He showed you, in turn, to his brother, Tywin Lannister.

Under the Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes, you showed promise.

Before Jaime Lannister ever took up the sword with a purpose that wasn't "because daddy told me to", there was you in the training grounds as far as he could remember.

There was you, strong, barely a teen yet.

You became friends, then, under the sword. Tywin bid you an example for his son. As a boy, you were hardly fit to be an example, so instead you became friends.

Between his overzealous sister, his outcast brother, his jealous cousins and the frightened servants, you were the best friend he could ever have.

From friends, you became... not lovers, but something close. It was hardly romance, it was hormones, it was just boys being boys, and it was only fooling around. A kiss or two, sometimes longer, sometimes with tongue; playing at maturity.

With you, Jaime got a taste for breaking the rules and the thrill of sneaking out of his bedroom under the bright cast of moonlight. He got his first taste of romantic companionship, and he liked it.

You were only a couple years older then, but Jaime's dislike for letters caused him to be bound to the book for several hours a day, and so you were the stronger swordfighter.

He admired you. You were more literate than him, though most people are, and stronger, taller, more built, more worked.

You knew hardship and, as the heir to Casterly Rock, he didn't.

He got his first taste of hardship when you were summoned to become a King's Guard, and he did not like it.

Jaime had never begged before. "Don't go. Please, don't go."

And you had never denied him. "I must."

That's why, when you left for the King's Guard, he was left in despair. Despair caused impulse, and he fell back to his sister.

You did not send any ravens the years you were gone, so you grew apart. Jaime held some resentment too, for the first couple of years when he became a King's Guard, so you grew further apart.

He had his sister now, and she was a jealous woman.

The older you grew, the more you thought of your little youthful escapades as just that, things of the youth, inconsequential to anything else of your now adult existance.

Jaime came around eventually.

He became the better swordsman. He was quite fine with letters, and stronger, taller, more discreet, more dutiful.

You were lovers once more, but only that. This time, you knew how to please a man, but again he was only learning. You pleased each other under the influence of wine, or maybe not. Maybe sometimes your minds were unobstructed, and instead, you were more truthful, softer... and some rare nights, you only talked, you shared heart-to-hearts.

But you weren't friends, not by actions. You did not talk often enough, freely enough, unguarded. You were just lovers.

Regardless, to Jaime, there was great comfort in knowing that you were somewhere in the Red Keep, still there for him, still alive. It was one of the things he fought to remember during his year-long journey back to King's Landing.

When you open your door to leave your chambers, you are quickly pushed back inside.

Jaime's there. He's different, but he's there, and he slams the door behind him. You take it as another moment where he seeks the comfort of your body, especially after what you heard had happened to him. The idea occurs naturally to you, even after a year apart.

You kiss him roughly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, because you've missed him.

Jaime breaths hard into the kiss. He's breathing hard in general, and it's more evident when he pushes you away.

You lose your footing in a daze and land on a chair. It'd be a great position, and you'd be quite excited in anticipation, if it weren't for the look on his face.

"Jaime?"

"You didn't come see me." He says, angrily. His arms are crossed, hands—hand folded over his inner elbow.

Standing before you is a shadow of the man Jaime once was. His hair is shorter, darker, his skin is tanner, he's got dark circles under his eyes. He looks worn.

This is a man who has gone through hell. This is a man going through his second war, a man who was held prisoner for a time, who had to kill his cousin, and who tracked through mud and shit to get back to his home. He was missing a bloody hand!

And you didn't go see him.

"No, I didn't." You sit up quickly, fixing the smirk on your lips to a neutral one. "I thought Cersei would keep you, or that you'd be busy recovering...or that our family would want to see you."

"Cersei saw me." Jaime said pointedly. The next moment, he's climbing onto your lap, bracketing your legs with his. "I saw Joffrey and Tommen. Myrcella is gone, and I just found out. Tyrion had his opportunity. Father wished to do nothing but scold me. I was recovering from my journey in my chambers for three days. You didn't come see me."

"I didn't... and now I see I have no excuse." You keep your eyes on him. Past his heavy lids and dark circles, his eyes are the same as you last saw them, a beautiful green.

"All I could think about was getting back to you." He says through gritted teeth, and though it was a lie, you would believe it. He shifts his hips to rub against your length, a subtle grind.

It loses all subtlety when he continues, over and over. Pleasure rises.

"You are." You say with shaky breaths, heavy enough to mirror his. Your eyes close instinctively, head tilted down to the source of your pleasure.

You haven't had him in a year. You miss him, his body. A brothel whore cannot compare.

"Look at me." His teeth are still gritted. He grasps your face with his hand, squeezing your cheeks in the pull to make you look at him.

"Jaime." You say, acknowledging him, looking at him once more.

He looks angry. It's in his gritted teeth and wide eyes and his heaving chest, it's in his words—but he's not violent, no, never to you.

You kiss him, lick into his mouth to urge his tongue to meet yours. His teeth separate, not with a screeching difficulty, but easily. It's almost familiar, the way his tongue feels against yours, the taste of his saliva.

You have known this man longer than you haven't. Perhaps he is missing a hand, perhaps he is wrinkled and older, but he is still the same man you tousled with in your youth.

You find yourselves eventually on the bed, like you have a hundred times before. You on your back, him on your lap.

Except this time it is not quite as swift, and this time he is struggling with the clasps of your armor.

"Let me."

"No."

You do it anyway. Jaime watches you sit up and he sighs. He thinks of himself as helpless, a mope of a man settled on your lap like a peasant sitting on the Iron Throne.

He sighs out of his nose once more, but to you, he only seems like a sad puppy. "Knights can hardly do this themselves. That's what squires are for. I'm sure you've never heard of a one-handed squire."

"That's not helping." Jaime huffs.

"Look," You say, with all the parts of your chest plate, shoulder parts and neck pieces off. You fix his arms around your neck, "you can still wrap them around here. That's all that matters, hm? All you need is to hold on tight enough."

"Asshole." Jaime says as he pushes you onto your back again, though there's a bit of a lift to his lips.

It's the third time he pushes you. "Pushy."

"Asshole." He repeats.

There's little else to remove after that, just the flowing scales covering your crotch that he removes easily with new determination, and your shin guards, but those won't obstruct the path to your dick.

He undoes the laces of your pants with two harsh tugs and then your cock is free to him. With the way he's looking at it like a meal, you're sure he's missed it.

"Do you still keep oil behind the curtains?" Jaime asks, already reaching behind the canopy's bedpost, where the curtain is usually wrapped securely around the flask.

"No." He looks disappointed then, for a moment. "At least it means I've been loyal to you?"

"It can just as well mean that you've only been visiting brothels." Jaime laughs, leaning his forearms on either side of your head to kiss you before you can protest.

You like this, it's easy; it's carefree and humorous. You can feel his smile against your lips.

He shifts his position to press his ass to your cock and grind against the length of it, swallowing your groan with his lips. You hardly noticed when he tugged off his own pants.

For a moment you think that might be how he gets you off, but then one of his arms leaves the mattress, and his fingers are gathering precum from the tip of your swollen head.

It sacrifices his balance, and you catch him before his full weight falls on you. "Bastard." You breathe out a laugh.

"What?" Jamie returns a grin, though it falls open just slightly when he stretches himself out with your precum as lubrication. Quite the sight.

"One journey from the North to King's Landing on foot, and suddenly you don't care for cleanliness?"

He winces slightly, "One, I was also tricked into drinking horse piss. Two, you're cumming inside sooner or later, it's not very different, is it?"

"One," You mirror with raised eyebrows, "what in the Seven Hells? Two, fair enough."

Holding up his thinner body with one hand is easy enough, and if it weren't, you'd have sacrificed the possibility of him falling onto you for the opportunity to hold his face.

You cup his cheek. In another time, a year ago, your fingernails would've been tickled by boyishly long hair. Now, his hair is only prickly.

"Will you grow it out again?"

Jaime thinks on it. He thinks about how it stuck to his face whenever it was dirty with muck or grime, about how easy it was to tug at his hair, how it was used to tug him backwards into horseshit or some other crazed punishment... but he also thinks about how much you liked it, how you often sweetly pushed it off his forehead when it stuck, how tugging at it did feel good in intimate situations such as this.

"I might." Is what he settles for, and he relishes the sight of your smile.

He's good at prepping himself and keeping a smug face. You've seen it thousands of times before, when he's tired of being ordered around and decided he needed to take control for once. You've seen him the other way around just as many times, quite willing to give up the reigns because he's just so tired.

There's just something about another person's hand.

"Oh..." Jaime moans as you push his hand away and replace his fingers with yours.

Furtheremore, you let him slump forward. You're almost—nay, you are cuddling in this way. Your legs even tangle. You've got him right on top of you, one hand over his back and the other prepping him, letting him just relax.

"That feel good?"

He's practically melting on top of you. It's rather funny how nonchalant he replies with the subtle nod of his head and, "Yeah, uh-huh."

You drag your other hand over his spine and up to hold the back of his head. "Tell me about your journey."

"Okay," He hums pliantly, "Robb Stark captured me in an ambush... which, though it cost me hell, is quite admirable for a boy born after the war. I spent several months travelling behind the army convoys as a prisoner, without a roof, without a floor. Just a stick in the mud and a shitty cage."

He recounts the journey while you prep him languidly like you have all the time in the world.

You don't have all the time in the world. You'll only have tonight, and perhaps the next night, thought it is quite unlikely. Before long, you're sure, Cersei will stop this grudge of hers and Jaime will be gone again, only crawling back after another lovers' quarrel.

"Are you listening?" Jaime suddenly asks, voice rather soft. He looks up at you, beautiful green eyes batting under his eyelashes. Yes, you're looking.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." You say dismissively.

"Hold on a moment."

Jaime sits up to straddle you once more. You watch him go up all the way, eyes locked onto his. He's beautiful; different, worn, but still beautiful.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, "What are you looking at?"

You're so distracted with his face that you don't realize him sliding down onto your cock in one swift motion. "Fuck."

"Fuck is what you're looking at?" Jaime teases.

"Bastard."

"Ah, ah, ah," He tuts his tongue, hand on your abdomen as he rolls his hips. "you already used that one once. Be a little more creative, for once?"

You roll your eyes yet reply anyway, "Dickhead."

Jaime grins, "Better."

You settle a hand on his hip, helping guide his movements as well as make sure he doesn't lose his balance, what with the hand and all. It's... he's probably fine, but you can't help but be cautious.

You wrap your other hand on what remains of his wrist, almost as if to hold his hand. He notices the gesture.

His voice is soft when he says, "As I was saying?"

You nod your head, "As you were saying."

"About losing my hand... suppose I was way in over my head. I'd managed to convince that bastard of a man, Locke to leave lady Brienne untouched. I thought I could convince him to do more, to give me a decent meal and a fire, but instead, he convinced me that he was following along with my orders. Next moment, his men are pinning me down and he cuts my hand off himself. For the next months, he ties the bloody thing around my neck and I can't even take it off."

Grueling business to talk about while he rides you, but you've never held off from venting during these moments. It makes release all the sweeter, releasing your problems as well as your pent up sexual frustrations.

It's soft, all of it. The hand holding, the slow pace and desire to clench around every part of your cock, the eye contact, the easy way he tells you the entire story without sparing details to save his dignity.

"I should've gone after you." You sigh, kissing his bandaged wrist.

"No, you're a King's Guard, not a foot soldier." Jaime shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "You–"

You flip him over easily. "I should've gone after you." You say, and it's almost like you have authority over him, leaning over his body. You do, really, you're in control of your pleasure now.

Speechless, Jaime doesn't fight you. "Yeah."

You start up slow again, but quickly build up in chase of his pleasure. Jaime breathes out a shaky sigh, breaths growing heavier with each thrust.

"I'm sorry for all you've been through," Jaime has half the mind to protest, but you give him a look and continue, "and I wish I could kill every man that wronged you myself. I'm glad for Catelyn Stark, and glad for lady Brienne. I'm also happy that you're back, back to me. Happier than women leaving Maester Pycelle's room."

He wraps his arms around your neck, like you'd showed him earlier, and his legs around your waist. He's holding you close, for comfort, as if to make sure you're really there.

It's silly to do so. You're in front of his very eyes, your cock is fucking him open, and you're very much real.

"I'm happy I'm back with you." He mirrors with a grin, "Happier than even your cock is, I'm sure."

You kiss. No teeth, no tongue, just him and you holding it for as long as possible.

Maybe he will go back to Cersei. You think it almost inevitable; but at least you're sure there's a little part of him that loves you dearly, even if you might never admit it to each other.

For tonight, he's yours.

Yours to lavish, yours to pleasure, yours to fuck.

Yours to love.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.