#man to pull them in for a kiss and a fade to black because they about to BANG

[mifunebooty]

Sorry to anon talking to me asking for a mitchum year instead of a mitchum summer, I'm going without him see if I make it 3 days

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[l0vergirlwrites]

i think about you & nothin’ else ; spencer reid

synopsis: after a casual night out, you & spencer let your hearts & hands take control in more ways than one.

warnings: making out & heavy petting??, allusions to sex, fade to black smut, mentions of reader drinking alcohol & wearing makeup, softdom!spence & fem!reader, yearning, fluff, a few swears, spencer & reader just wanna get freaky in a cute way!!

note: this is so self indulgent, i couldn’t resist—can y’all tell i’m down bad for this man or what

minors dni with this post!

“ow, i knew i should’ve worn a different pair”

you groaned as you undid the laces of your doc marten heeled boots, revealing the black polka dotted socks spencer had gotten for you weeks ago when you pulled the bottoms of your jeans higher. spencer’s heart ached with happiness when he saw you wearing them, but he brushed it off, leaning down to help you when the right boot refused to come off.

“let me help” he murmured as he got down on one knee, his tongue poking out a little between his lips as his hands expertly pulled the boot off, adjusting the position of your sock.

as you leaned against the wall & peered down at spencer, you couldn’t help but get that sticky feeling brewing in your stomach, especially when his hand slipped up to caress your calf.

“thank you” you smiled when his eyes met yours, noticing a strand of hair curled in front of his eyes. it made him look like prince charming. “you look extra handsome like this…” you breathed, unable to hide the grin spreading on your face.

spencer squeezed your calf. “is that because i took off your shoe or because i’m on my knees?” he casually asked, smirking when he saw your slightly shocked reaction at his words. he’s not usually forward like that.

“hmmmm…” you dragged out, playing his game. “is ‘both’ an acceptable answer?”

licking his lips, spencer stood up & moved closer into your space, letting his hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing against the hem of the lace shirt you wore. “i’ll allow it just this once” he whispered, leaning down to give you the kiss you had begged him for in the taxi ride home.

slow & calculated, spencer’s lips moved against yours with purpose, thumbs pressing harder into your skin when you’d whine into his mouth. “you taste like that mojito you had” he whispered against your lips, diving back in for another kiss when your hands pawed against his chest, playing with the buttons of his white dress shirt.

you lightly laughed, moving to press kisses to his cheeks & jaw, feeling almost proud when you could see slight remnants of your lipstick marking his soft skin. “& you taste sweet” you said closer to his ear, causing spencer’s stomach to flip a thousand times, only making him lift a hand to your chin, pulling you back to his lips like a desperate man.

you weren’t sure how many minutes had passed by now, but you were content against the wall, arching into spencer’s chest with his hands anchoring your body to his own.

“couch?” he pulled away to ask, his hands sliding down to the plush of your thighs when you nodded eagerly, jumping up & wrapping your arms around his neck.

you both erupted into a fit of giggles when the back of his legs met the couch cushions abruptly, causing spencer to pull you down with him a little too fast, his head slightly knocking into your shoulder when his body fell back onto the cushions.

“shit—i’m sorry” he quickly apologized with a smile, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. but you didn’t retreat, only shaking your head as you pressed a quick kiss to his nose.

“it’s okay—just kiss me again” you smiled, tugging gently on his tie to pull him closer, as if you weren’t already perched on his lap with your legs staddling him.

so spencer kissed you again, eagerly falling back into the rhythm of what had been previously building, letting his hands run circles on your jean clad thighs as you settled onto him. your hands worked on undoing his tie to toss it onto the floor, like you’ve done so many times with your eyes closed, nudging your nose against his when he tugged on your bottom lip.

“is this okay?” you asked with a panting breath, fingers nimble as they rested in place at the top of his shirt, waiting for the go ahead to unbutton it.

“yeah, baby. go ahead” he answered, moving to kiss your jaw & neck as your fingers unbuttoned each button, one by one.

“fuck” you murmured when spencer sucked on that one spot you liked, involuntarily causing your hips to shift in his lap.

he hummed gratefully like he planned it, proud of your reaction. “you like that, hmm?” he asked teasingly, voice all low & sultry with yearning.

“gonna let me make a few marks?”.

you nodded your head & let your hips move against his again, your hands raking up & down his chest once all the buttons were freed. you swore you could feel every muscle, every rib & dent in chest, sending a tingling feeling across spencer’s skin. “yes, please”.

spencer hummed into your neck at your politeness, pressing his lips down closer to your collarbone before creating a love bite. he was smart enough to do it in places where they’d hide under your clothes so others couldn’t see, keeping them a little secret shared between the two of you.

scraping your nails across his chest, one hand moved up to his hair, tugging in the soft brown locks appreciatively at the sensations he was sending through your skin. you felt like you were on fire in the best of ways. so you continued building the friction between you two, smiling devilishly when his hands cupped your tits, thumbs massaging your nipples through the lacey fabric until they peaked.

“wanna make you feel good” you panted into his ear, earning a suppressed moan from him in return, your name sounding somehow sweeter when it escaped his mouth.

“you always do, sweetheart” he assured as he pulled back to look at you, the way you arched yourself closer to his touch. spencer could see your smudged eyeliner clearer now, & he liked it.

he liked—no, loved—everything about you. especially when you sat on top of him like this; messy hair, smudged makeup, the soft pinch of your eyebrows when he did something you liked... it made him feel eternally lucky.

“spence” you said, bringing him out of the haze he fell into when he processed your thumb brushing against his bottom lip.

“i’m here” he responded with vigour, taking ahold of your wrist so he could press a kiss into the heel of your hand. “i just can’t get over how beautiful you look right now—it’s driving me insane” he explained, desperation & love present in his tone.

it made you melt, brain going fuzzy with the need to go further than you both have gone before.

“i could say the same about you—can’t believe that you’re all mine” you bit your lip & squeezed his bare shoulders, eyes scanning his messy hair & twinkling eyes, all the way down to his toned chest, how his happy trial peeked out below his navel.

spencer hoped his neck wasn’t turning pink under your gaze.

“god, i’m so lucky” he pulled your lips to his for the millionth time, but neither of you were tired of it.

“you could get even more lucky tonight if you want to…” you proposed, pulling away & batting your eyelashes in a way that drives him wild.

you know he knows what you’re implying by the way his hands slip to your ass, squeezing the fat there, wishing your jeans were already off.

“oh yeah? what do you have in mind?”.

ugh. what a tease.

you took a deep breath, sitting up before pulling his hands to rest in front of you, nudging his fingers to brush against the button of your jeans. “take them off & find out” you said, more so commanded with a nervous breath, & spencer was more than happy to comply.

letting your fingers play with his hair again, spencer’s fingers popped your button & slowly undid the zipper of your jeans, his eyes not leaving yours. when the zipper stopped, one of his hands moved to your hip, pushing your shirt higher on your stomach, massaging your skin.

“look down, baby. you missed it”.

your words caused spencer’s eyes to dart to the opening of your jeans, his sight locking onto the small piece of red fabric with white stitching that read “lucky you” in cursive lettering. he let a surprised scoff escape his lips, only feeling more turned on. his eyes also landed on the lacy black pair of underwear you were wearing.

spencer was about to lose it.

“lucky me, indeed”.

[sematarygirls]

anxious!reader forcing rafe to watch her shitty rom coms with her? he’s secretly all grumpy but he LOVES it <3

  ⠀⠀♯┆Anxious!Reader &&. Romcoms With Rafe.ㅤ  ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ rafe would make such a fuss about romcoms and then end up getting so invested / i was going to use 10 things i hate about you, but then, i decided to go with my personal favorite romcom‎‎—the princess bride ‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎WARNINGS . . . none, just fluff.   ̼ ₊

"No way. I'm not watching this chick shit," Rafe protested, making a move for the remote, but you quickly pulled back, refusing to let him take over movie night again.

"You'll like it, I promise," you reassured him, pressing on the movie titled The Princess Bride.

"Fat fuckin' chance," he scoffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. As you pressed play, he rolled his eyes, ready to settle in for a boring night of chick flicks, but deep down, he knew it made you happy so he let it happen, only putting up a fight to maintain his image.

"It's got death and sword fights and adventure," you smiled brightly at him, gushing about your favorite movie in a way that made his expression soften a fraction.

"And kissing," he pointed out, making you laugh at how he sounded exactly like the little boy at the beginning of the movie, protesting the story just because he thought it would be a silly, girly love story.

"i thought you didn't mind kissing," you smiled playfully, giving him a peck on the lips as you snuggled closer to him.

"Smartass," he muttered, but his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Fine, I'll watch your fuckin' princess movie."

"Shh, it's starting," you smiled, watching as the movie opened with the little boy sick in bed, playing a baseball game when his mother came in to inform him that his grandpa was visiting to check up on him.

The movie started slow with some boring romantic bullshit like Buttercup and Westley saying "as you wish" instead of "I love you" that had Rafe rolling his eyes, but when the presumed love interest was revealed to have died at sea by the Dread Pirate Roberts, Rafe found himself perking up. Only about 10 minutes in, and someone had already died, albeit off screen. Maybe this movie wouldn't completely suck.

He found himself increasingly invested, wishing for Westley back as soon as the guy he assumed was Princess Buttercup's new love interest, Prince Humperdink, was introduced. "This guy seems like a dick," he commented.

"Just wait," you giggled, having inside knowledge as to just how much of a dick he really was. As Princess Buttercup got kidnapped and almost died to the shrieking eels, Rafe found himself stretching out on the couch, his reluctance fading with each passing moment of action unfolding, and by the time the sword fight between the Man in Black and Inigo Montoya started, he was completely and utterly invested.

You glanced up at Rafe, smiling as you saw his brows furrowed, his blue eyes tracking the two men as they darted back and forth, each trying to best the other. The sword fight had always been your favorite scene, ever since you were a kid.

The scenes passed by, the Man in Black temporarily incapacitating Inigo and Fezzick and killing Vizzini by poisoning him before taking Princess Buttercup for himself, saying awful and mean things to her.

Finally, she snapped, shoving him down a steep hill. On the way down, he yelled, "as you wish," which had Rafe's eyes widening as he turned to look at you. "He's alive?" He asked in disbelief, making you grin and nod, loving how invested he was, especially because of his initial vehemence.

"That was completely unnecessary," you rolled your eyes as she threw herself down the hill after him instead of walking down like a normal person.

The movie continued with them venturing through the fire swamp, getting separated by Prince Humperdink and his men, Buttercup's arranged marriage to the prince, Westley being mostly killed but not fully dead and being revived by Miracle Max, and finally, the conclusion where Inigo killed the Six Fingered Man that killed his father and Westley saved Buttercup from being killed by Prince Humperdink on her "wedding" night.

"Westley should've killed him instead of just tying him up," Rafe rolled his eyes as they all rode away on white horses.

"You liked it," you teased him, grinning widely.

"I didn't say that," he protested, but he couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. "But it was... not completely terrible. I guess." He glanced at you, noticing how happy you looked. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" You asked innocently, batting your lashes, still wearing that shit-eating grin.

"Like you're so proud of yourself, knowing you were right and I was wrong," he grumbled, rubbing circles on your hip.

"Well, I did say you'd like it," you reminded him, laying your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffed half-heartedly, rolling his eyes, pretending to be annoyed at your gloating. His arm automatically wrapped around you, however, pulling you closer.

"Thank you for watching my movie, baby," you said softly. "It meant a lot to me." And it meant even more to you that he actually liked it.

Hearing you call him "baby" in that soft, sincere voice sent a jolt of warmth through him. "Yeah, well, don't mention it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Truthfully, he'd do anything for you. He was totally and utterly in love with you. "As you wish, or whatever."

[misshuntereevee]

a continuation of the 5-star kindled moment memory, "business trip" w/ zayne... this was my first ever 5-star memory and it's everything to me so take this spicy time that picks up right after the fade to black.

content: smut and fluff

[ reminder: i'm not beta read ]

"I changed my mind. Is that okay?" He murmurs against your lips before nearly devouring your lips.

You giggle as he descends on your lips. It leveled him how honest you were. How you admitted to missing him, even though he was beating around the subject himself. You readily admitted that you needed him.

And it made him -- a man of ice and steely resolve -- feel like he was burning alive. He needed more of it. More of you.

"You're definitely allowed to change your mind," you tell him, as his lips move down to your neck. His lips start off gentle before nipping and sucking at the tender skin. You give little gasps and moans as he works his way around. One of his hands comes to grasp yours, pinning it down next to your head.

His knee comes up, pushing against your core, and you give another loud groan for him. He nearly eats the sound from your mouth, kissing you as he drags it from your lips.

"You're not thinking clearly if you think I didn't miss you," he finally admits, pulling back to drag his nose down the column of his neck. Just the scent of you was addicting. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. The thought just pounds in his head and he has to make sure that you feel it.

You're about to say something in return when he keeps speaking. His free hand starts to roam, pulling your leg up to his waist. "Just because I can survive without you, doesn't mean I want to. You should know that."

And just like that, he seems to be done talking. His mouth descends upon yours once again, but his hands are fast, efficient at taking off your clothes. It's your top that goes first. His time as a doctor has his movements exact and sharp. Buttons are carefully undone and the top is removed.

When he sees your bra, he finally lets out a groan. "You're beautiful." His hand comes up, palming you through the cup. "You fit perfectly into my hand. I wonder..." He pushes the strap down on one side, and a breast spills out. "How sensitive you are for me right now?"

His fingers are feather-like, circling your nipple. He's going painstakingly slow and deliberate. HIs eyes drink in every movement. on your face. Every flicker of pleasure, every bite of your lip as he continues those feather-like movements.

"Zayne," you whimper, arching your back to ask for more. He chuckles, shaking his head at you. In fact, it makes him pull back. "Zayne!" You complain. "Where are you going--"

His fingers finally find the back of your bra, and the whole thing falls away. He's quick to bury his face in your breasts. His head turns, pressing kisses, nipping and sucking at the skin. Your head falls back against the couch in pleasure. He chuckles again. "I'm not going anywhere. You're being impatient."

Your hands find his hair, pulling and tugging with each wave of pleasure. "It's not my fault you feel s'good." You say, the last few words more of a groan as he drags his teeth ever so gently across your nipple.

"Oh fuck --" you gasp.

"You know I'm almost hurt you thought I didn't miss you. I thought it was a given. Maybe I should make it abundantly clear how much I missed you."

With that, his head moves further south. His fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts. Every movement is dedicated to laying you bare to him. You pull at his shirt now that he's released your hand, but that only earns you having them pinned again.

"I'm showing you how much I missed you, remember?" He chides

You groan, but it's lost into a moan the second your pants hit the floor. His mouth is everywhere. He sucks and nips at your stomach, your navel, your thighs... everywhere that he can get ahold of.

You are squirming underneath you, but he's quick to use his weight to pin you, and his hands to hold your hips down. He's not letting you escape the onslaught of pleasure.

The teasing kisses continue for what feels like at least 10 minutes, and you're dripping with the need for him. Your panties are the only thing still on, and you're almost sure they are soaked.

"Zayne," you groan. "Stop teasing me..."

He chuckles, his lips finally finding the front of the waistband of your panties. "I won't tell you again... I was showing you how much I missed you. And I missed kissing your pretty skin. How it feels under my touch..." He drags a finger down the front of your panties and you almost lose it.

"Zayne," you whine. "Please!"

It's then that he finally slips a finger under your underwear, finding your slick clit. A smirk plays at his lips as his green eyes peer up at you. "You're so wet for me. You meant it when you said you missed me, didn't you?"

He needs to hear it again. He needs to hear that you missed him as much as he missed you. There was a reason he checked the weather where you were. There was a reason he was relieved when you texted back. There was a reason he texted in the first place.

"Yes," you gasp, euphoria flooding you as finally get a bit of stimulation. "I missed you so much. I wanted to be here with you."

That's enough for him to completely give in. With something that sounds like a growl, he rubs your clit faster. You're groaning his name loudly as he works on you. It's not long before he slips a finger inside of you, and you find yourself riding his hand.

His eyes watch you in amazement as you grind down on his hand. "That's it. Good girl, show me how much you missed me," he groans, his eyes still locked on you as chase your high.

"Zayne, I'm gonna-"

Your high crashes over you, and you can faintly hear Zayne's little chuckle as you do. You feel like your legs are jelly, but you still want... no need more from him. Together, your panties are cast aside, and he gets on his knees on the couch, looking down at you as he slowly starts to undress.

You giggle, leaning up -- a hand being naughty as it chases every inch of free skin. He's not immune to your touch, his breath hitching every time you find new purchase. Finally, your hand finds his happy trail, and then his belt, aiding him. His cock springs free, standing at attention. He's already leaking pre-cum, and you can tell he's desperate for any friction on his member.

You're about to put your mouth around him when surprisingly, he shakes his head, pushing your back down against the sofa seat. "No. I need to be in you. I need to be home."

"Yes, yes, please, Zayne," you murmur almost like a chant.

His mouth leaves hot kisses on your shoulder as he positions himself to enter you. Slowly, he slides in, stretching you out in that delightful way only Zayne could. Other men had been ruined the first time he ever took you to bed.

He groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him, pausing to just feel you. "You are so tight," he groans, but then with a sharp snap of his hips, he surges even deeper than you thought possible.

His hands come up, pinning your hips down. He loves this position. He didn't care how boring it might be called. To him, nothing is better than getting to fuck into you with your love drunk eyes looking up at him. Nothing is better than seeing you blissed out and safe in his arms. "Say it again," he demands. "Say you missed me again."

And the way he's chasing your pleasure right now is evident on his face. He's chasing it just as fast as he own. Every inch of pleasure, every twitch of a smile... he's taking it all in as he purposefully angles each thrust where you need it most.

"I missed you so much," you nearly wail from both the intensity and sheer honesty of it. "I wanted to come home as soon as I left -- Zayne, I can't hold on--"

"I know. I've got you." He says, his fingers coming down to rub circles on your clit. Your head is thrown back as your orgasm starts to ram into you. You're already starting to mewl his name. "Come for me. It's okay." Despite the gruffness in his voice, gentleness can still be found and heard.

And for the second time, you come for him, this time with your walls around him. Your nails dig into his back and shoulder with the intensity of it. He doesn't even seem to notice.

That's because the second your start tightening like that around him, he's doomed. He pumps one, two and three more times before a shudder and groan falls from his lips, and a warmth fills your abdomen. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He then moves like he's about to pull back, but you hook a leg around his waist. He's surprised by your boldness, but then chuckles. "What is this-" he starts.

"Don't go. Not yet," you tell him. "I want to hold you."

Zayne presses a kiss to your forehead, shifting his weight to a comfortable position. "I'm not complaining."

[thebigbadbatswife]

Late Night Tears

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - Bruce wakes up to you crying.

Warnings - Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Comfort, Past Abuse mentions, Wrote this instead of sleeping

A/N - Same 'verse as Sippin' on Sunshine and Morning Glory. As always, this fic is a standalone and does not require any previous fics to be read in order to be enjoyed.

Word Count - 1.1k

As quickly as it took for him to fall asleep, something pulls Bruce from his pleasant dream. It fades into distant memory as his eyes blink open and he’s staring up at where he knows the ceiling of Wayne Manor’s master bedroom is. His eyes adjust to the pitch blackness faster than a normal man’s, thanks to his nocturnal lifestyle. 

He frowns as he lays there. While he, currently, has no idea what’s pulled him from his sleep, he knows something wrong. It’s a feeling deep within him. Settling into the pit of his stomach like the way that a stone sinks into the middle of a lake. 

It’s the result of years of training drilled into him. Instincts wired into his brain and very being to keep him alive during extremely uncertain situations. But this doesn’t fit in to that. 

He’s home. In bed. Safe and sound. There’s no danger here. 

Bruce closes his eyes and decides to listen. Just because the danger isn’t obvious doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Maybe he’ll hear something. 

At the same time that he hears it, he also finally notices just how cold his side is. His sleepy brain fully waking up now. 

You’re no longer tucked up against his side, like you usually are when the two of you sleep together. Instead you’re all the way on the other side of the king sized bed. As far away from him as you can get without falling out of the bed. And he immediately recognises the quiet sniffling and shaky breathes of you sobbing. 

As he looks over at you, he feels his heart break a little. You are curled up into the fetal position. Both making yourself look smaller and trying to muffle your sobs with the covers.

Why didn’t you wake him? 

Deeply worried about you, Bruce sits up. He switches on the lamp on the nightstand, lightning up the dark room, and reaches for you. He pulls you back toward him, noting how you stiffen up at his touch, and tucks you back up against his chest. You snuggle against him, your hands gripping the shirt he’s worn to bed tonight as you bury your face against him. 

He doesn’t ask you if you’re okay. It’s beyond clear that, right now in this moment, you aren’t. So, as your forever devoted boyfriend, he does exactly as he knows he needs to. He holds you tightly, his hand rubbing your back, as he presses a kiss to the top of your head and softly repeats the words “I’m here”, a couple of times. Letting you know that you aren’t alone and that he’s got you. 

You cry for a while. To the point of soaking the front of shirt. Not that he cares. He can always get a clean one later. 

As your cries slowly fall silent, turning into more sniffling than full blown crying. You pull away from him and sit up, rubbing away the tears with your pyjama sleeve. Bruce sits up with you, one of his hands remaining on your lower back as he continues to do his best to soothe you. 

“Bad dream?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “No. I… I couldn’t sleep and the longer that I laid awake, the more my mind started to wander and I started to think about certain memories and it just sort of snowballed,” you reply. You draw you legs up and press your forehead against them. 

Bruce doesn’t need you to explain further. He already knows about the memories responsible for your tears. They are the same ones that often cause your bad dreams as well.

Your child and teen years were, quite frankly, horrific. The abuse you endured only growing worse the more your fame grew. It was rarely physical, from what you have shared with him. Your parents preferring to use words, but they left a mark on you all the same. 

As soon as you had turned eighteen you had managed to shake off of their shackles and hadn’t heard from them for a few years. Until the first headline involving you and Bruce had hit the stands. Then, like the cockroaches they are, they had come crawling from the woodwork to hurl nothing, but abuse at you. Some of which he has heard first hand. Even now he struggles to wrap his head around how horrible someone can be to their own child.

But restraining orders don't undo years of abuse and, as good as your therapist is, your scars run deep. 

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto his lap. You rest your head against his shoulder and let him entwin his fingers with yours.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he says. “You should have woken me up.”

“You barely get enough sleep as it is. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Your concern for him and his wellbeing is sweet. At the same time he doesn’t want you to suffer in silence just because he has the world’s worst sleeping schedule. He presses a feather light kiss to the tip of your nose and rests his head against your forehead. 

“You wouldn’t be disturbing me. I would rather lose sleep than have you awake and crying alone,” he replies. “Next time wake me up. I won’t be mad or upset. All I want is to make sure you’re okay.”

You nod. “Okay. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about.” 

Before you can even attempt to say sorry for saying sorry, he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. He pulls away and wipes away the remnants of tears, that are still on your face, away with his thumb. Your eyes are puffy and are still shiny from unshed tears. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” 

Bruce doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s getting out of bed, with you still in his arms and carries you, bridal style, toward the en-suite. He turns the light on and sets you onto the counter. 

He removes his shirt, throwing toward the hamper before grabbing a washcloth off of the side of the bath and soaks it with cold water from the faucet. After squeezing some of the water out, he uses it to freshen up your face and gently presses it against your puffy eyes, to help reduce some of the swelling.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask as he presses the cloth against your other eye. Until now, other than the sound of running water from the tap, a silence had fallen over the two of you as he focuses on the task at hand.

“I’m thinking we’re going to go downstairs for a late night snack and some tea. Does that sound good to you?” He sets the washcloth aside, laying it out so that it can dry. 

“That sounds perfect.”

[withwritersblock]

Feelslikeimfallinginlove

~feelslikeimfallinginlove by Coldplay~

Author's Note: Requested! this isn't my proudest work but it has been a minute since I've written anything. It's more about the beginning part of falling in love with someone, maybe infatuation Summary: Quinn finally meets the beautiful girl in the lobby. Warnings: a bit of a cliffhanger I guess? Word Count: 3,125 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

Quinn usually kept to himself, especially when he was in season. Being captain came with a collection of team bonding and leadership he had to do during the season. But outside of the team and his family, he usually was alone. 

He never wanted to cross the boundary of getting to know the people in his building, he usually tried to avoid any interaction at all. Until the girl in the lobby. He hasn’t spoken to her yet, but they’ve smiled towards one another a handful of times. 

Quinn couldn’t figure out if she lived in the building, worked in the building, or knew someone who lived there. And he hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend. Today was the first game of the season and he was nervous. The team had a tough playoff exit and they had even higher expectations this season.

He took a deep breath as he adjusted the collar on his brand new black undershirt. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He usually wore the same three suit styles over and over again. This was new. He took a deep breath as he reached for his keys and his water bottle and began jogging towards the door. He pulled the door open quickly stepping out. He shut his door, quickly locking it. He lifted his gaze to see the same girl walking out of an apartment. 

Quinn paused for a moment when he saw a guy several inches taller than himself walk out behind her. Quinn’s small smile on his lips faded as he saw the pair, which quickly turned into a trio as another girl steps out of the apartment. He watched the other girl lean up towards the tall guy and kiss him on the lips. 

Quinn would be lying if he didn’t take a sigh of relief. He finished locking his door, keeping his gaze on the floor. He began reluctantly walking towards the three of them. He needed to pass them to reach the elevator. 

“No way! You’re Quinn Hughes!” the tall guy said as Quinn stared walking. Quinn lifted his gaze, looking towards the three of them. He forced a smile on his lips. 

“Yup, that’s me,” he said awkwardly, a nervous laugh leaving his lips. 

“Y/N, you should’ve told me you live next to the Captain of the Canucks?!” he continued.

“I didn’t want to tell you because of this, Corey,” she motioned towards the guy, a giggle leaving her lips. “We’re sorry. Good luck tonight!” Y/N said excitedly, the same kind smile on her lips. Quinn met her gaze, his lips curled up softly.

“Not a big deal at all,” Quinn said, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“See, sis, not a big deal at all, can we get a photo?” he asked. Quinn nodded, “Here,” he shoved his phone towards Y/N. She laughed. Quinn felt his heartbeat quicken, it was a beautiful sound. He didn’t want to hear anything else ever again. All he ever wanted was to hear her laughter. 

She gladly took the phone and began to take a few steps back. Quinn cleared his throat as he gladly stood beside the man, putting on a forced smile. Corey pointed towards Quinn, his jaw dropped excitedly. 

Y/N slowly pulled the phone down away from her face, a wide grin on her lips. Quinn’s forced smile became more genuine. Quinn cleared his throat as he pulled away from her brother. 

“Thanks man, good luck tonight!” he said. Quinn nodded before he looked towards Y/N. Their eyes remained connected for a moment, perhaps too long, before Quinn began to walk towards the elevator.

“Thanks, enjoy the game,” he muttered as he walked towards the staircase near the elevator. He began walking down the steps alone, trying to hide the grin forming to his lips.

“How could you not tell me you lived next to Quinn motherfucking Hughes?” he overheard Corey say. Quinn laughed as he walked down the steps while shaking his head. 

~~~

The game was close but the Canucks ended up winning and Quinn got three assisted on the night. He couldn’t stop smiling the whole drive back towards his apartment. He parked in his usual parking spot to see Y/N climbing out of her car. He pressed his lips together to try and stop the smile forming to his lips.

He slowly climbed out of his car, keeping his gaze towards the ground. “Great game!” she called out towards him, standing in front of her car. He lifted his gaze as he smiled towards her. 

“Hey!” he expressed as he walked towards her, she met him as they stood together in the center of the parking garage, “Thanks, it was a bit close for comfort,” he mumbled as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“I’m Y/N, I don’t think I said that earlier,” she offered, “And you guys were in control the whole time,” she said confidently crossing her arms over her chest. He chuckled nervously.

“Y/N, nice to meet you finally,” he said. He wanted to punch himself in the jaw. Why did he say that. Finally. As if he was waiting for them to meet. His eyes widened slightly and her smiled widened as she tilted her head to the side. 

“Nice to meet you too,” she said while adjusting the bag on her arm. He cleared his throat as he pointed behind him. She nodded as she began walking side by side with him. “Thank you for earlier, by the way, you made my little brother’s week,” she explained.

“No problem at all,” Quinn offered as he pulled the door open towards the lobby. Y/N smiled towards the front desk night host as the pair walked towards the elevator. “Does he live with you?” he asked, glancing behind him.

“He’s a freshman at UBC and lives at the dorms. He wanted me to take him and his girlfriend to a game. Obviously keeping the knowledge that we lived in the same building to myself,”

The elevator doors open quickly, allowing the pair to step inside. Shoulders bumping slightly as they stepped into the small space. “This is going to sound like I have a huge ego or whatever-purely just curious,” he began rambling as he pressed the button to reach the floor they shared. “If you knew who I was, why didn’t like ask for a photo or something?” he said a small laugh leaving his lips.

“I didn’t want to make it awkward,” she said while laughing.

“It wouldn’t be awkward at all,” he mumbled, turning his head towards her. She turned her head to meet his gaze, a grin on her lips as her eyes scanned his features.

“Well, now it would be be awkward,” she offered as the elevator doors opened to their apartment floor. She stepped out of the elevator first, spinning around to meet his gaze as he stepped out. 

“Why’s that?” he asked teasingly.

“You’re a completely normal person to me now,” she teased. 

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Oh really?” he asked as his gaze scanned her frame. She was beautiful. 

“Uh huh, you are simply Quinn Hughes, my neighbor, who happens to play for the Canucks,” she explained as she stopped beside her door. Quinn bit his bottom lip as he fought the grin forming to his lips. 

“Well, uh, Y/N last name I don’t know, my brothers also played tonight. I have yet to know how the game went. Would you like to come over and watch the game with me?” he asked, taking a small step towards her, his hands still in his hoodie pocket. She squinted her eyes slightly as she scanned his features. She nodded.

“Y/L/N,” she said.

His face scrunched together, a grin still evident to his lips, “A simple no would’ve sufficed,” he said while laughing.

She grinned as she rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s my last name, you ass,” she delicately pushed his arm back. “Is it okay if I take a quick shower before I come by?” she questioned.

He nodded, “Of course, I’ll see you in a bit?” he asked as he began walking backwards towards his apartment. She nodded before she spun around and began unlocking her apartment. He watched her walk inside. “Yes,” he whispered excitedly as he hopped slightly back towards his apartment door. He quickly unlocked it.

Stepping inside, he took a deep breath as he jogged towards his bathroom to quickly take another shower. He took one at the arena but he always takes a quick one when he gets home from games. He looked into the bathroom mirror as he giggled nervously. He glanced down towards his phone to see Luke was calling him. It was probably a good sign that they won.

He quickly brough the phone to his ear. “Lukey boy, did you guys win? Haven’t seen the score,” he asked as he clenched his jaw slightly as he tilted his head back.

“We won, it was close, also what the hell was that text you sent me earlier? No context nothing,” Luke said, a small chuckle leaving his throat. Quinn let out a sudden chuckle as he shook his head.

“Remember the cute girl in the lobby of my apartment?”

“Uh yes, sure, why?” Luke mumbled out. 

“She’s coming over in like twenty minutes,” he let out excitedly.

“How’d you manage that? I thought you were terrified to speak to any girl since your breakup,” he said jokingly. Quinn rolled his eyes.

“When’s the last time you spoke to any girl who weren’t dating one of your friends?” Quinn countered.

Luke laughed, “Alright, hot shot, enjoy your night. Tell me in the morning in as little details as possible please,” Luke mumbled before he hung up the phone. Quinn smirked as he quickly threw off his clothes as he jumped into the shower. 

After twenty minutes, Quinn shot up from the couch at the sound of a knock on his door. He smiled as he walked towards his apartment door. He peeked through the peep hole to see her standing outside of it with a bottle of wine in her hand. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. He felt his chest ache at the sight of her. His entire body felt hot as he examined her features in a short moment. 

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” he offered as he stepped to the side allowing her to step inside. 

“I wanted to,” she mumbled as she nervously stepped inside, “Are you allowed to drink during the season? I should’ve thought about that before I brought this over,” she rambled as she tightened her grip on the wine bottle. 

“We can drink,” he let out as he held out his hand for the bottle. She nodded as she gave it to him gladly. “I only do it every once in a while though,” he mumbled as he set the bottle on the counter. She nodded as she nervously twisted the small necklace pendant between her thumb and index finger. 

“What kind of glass would you like? A big glass or a bigger glass?” he asked. She chuckled.

“A bigger glass would be great,” she mumbled as she looked towards the tv, it showed the game about to start in a few minutes. Despite it being a recording. 

“Coming right up,” he expressed as he popped open the bottle. 

“Do you watch every game your brother’s play?” she questioned as she watched the camera pan towards the starting players on the ice. She didn’t recognize any of them. 

“I try, it’s always hard when we play on the same day, but I try,” Quinn explained as he poured the glasses. Making sure the glasses were a bit on the fuller side. “If I don’t get a chance to watch the full thing, I’ll watch the highlights or something,” he explained as he walked towards her, handing her a glass.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she followed him towards the couch. “That’s really awesome,” she said as she sat beside him. He nodded.

“It also helps watching the other team play against my brothers because I know how they play so I get to figure out how to work against the other team by watching them with my brothers. It’s kinda fun,” he explained. Her gaze was on him the entire time, admiring the way his face light up as he spoke. He shifted his gaze, meeting her eye for a moment. “Sorry,” he mumbled dropping his gaze.

“Don’t apologize, I wanna hear more,” she said tapping his knee excitedly. He chuckled nervously as he glanced towards the screen. 

“Hear more about what?” he asked as he met her gaze. She felt her lips curl up slightly as she tilted her head to the side.

“You,” she mumbled. He nodded as he brought the glass of wine towards his lips.

~The next morning~

She left around one in the morning. Despite, being together for several hours, nothing romantic transpired. They chatted as they watched the game. Learning everything and anything they could during their evening together. 

Quinn stood in his kitchen, propping his phone up as he answered the FaceTime from Jack. “Quinny!” Jack shouted into the phone. He had already been up for a handful of hours while Quinn just woke up. The time difference was something they were still getting used to, despite both being in the league for years.

“Damn, lower your voice,” Quinn mumbled as he poured some olive oil into his pan. 

“Lukey said you had a girl over last night, you putting yourself out there again?” Jack asked excitedly. 

“I-uh I guess, I don’t know,” he mumbled as he lifted the pan up and watched the oil spread around. “All we did was talk,”

“About what?” he asked teasingly. 

“I don’t know, just anything. It was nice to just talk to a girl without feeling any pressure to hook up or whatever,”

“So you don’t want to hook up with her?” he asked, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

“I didn’t say that,” he chuckled, “I just want to get to know her,”

“God, you’re such a romantic,” Luke shouted into the phone from somewhere in their apartment. Quinn rolled his eyes as he looked towards the phone to see Jack laughing up a storm. 

“Just because I want to get to know a girl before I think about hooking up with her doesn’t make me a romantic,” Quinn let out, “It makes me a decent guy, which apparently you two are not,” 

“Oh whatever, Quinny,” Jack said while laughing. “Are you going to light candles and have rose petals on the bed for your first time together?” Jack teased. Quinn rolled his eyes as he fought off the smirk forming to his lips.

“Alright, bye Jack, bye Luke,” he let out in a sing-song way while he ended the FaceTime call while shaking his head. He cracked an egg as he let it fell into the pan before he tossed out the egg shell. He stared at the egg beginning to cook as he heard someone knocking on his door. He quickly turned his stove off as he jogged towards the door. He looked through the peep hole to see Y/N standing outside his door. 

He smiled to himself as he pulled it open, “Good morning, Y/N,” he said as he stepped to the side letting her walk inside.

“I can’t stay long, I have to get to work but-” she paused as she met his gaze, smiled towards his sleepy expression. “I never got your number last night,” she mumbled. He tilted his head back as he grinned. “And I figured if we are going to keep hanging out, I am going to need your number,” 

“Why are you going to need it?” he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

“Didn’t I just say?” she asked teasingly, trying to sound annoyed but failing. “I don’t want to keep appearing out of nowhere at your door, you know it’s weird,” she explained, fighting the grin on her lips. 

“Oh I see,” he let out as he held out his hand for her phone. She gladly handed him her phone. “You’re just going to miss me when I go on roadies so you want some way to contact me,” he said as he typed his name in her phone and his number. 

“I met your yesterday, like I could miss you already. That would be crazy,” she let out.

“Right right, so crazy that you decided to do this bright and early in the morning, instead of our planned hang out later tonight, right,” he teased as he slowly handed her phone back. She rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Oh whatever,” she said dramatically, “I’ve gotta go,” she said as she began walking towards the door.

“You don’t want to stay? Maybe kiss a little?” he teased. She rolled her eyes as she let out a sudden laugh. 

“I’m running late,” she said as she pulled open the door and began to walk out of the apartment. The door was slow to shut. He quickly jumped into the opening, propping open the door a little as he peeked his head out.

“That wasn’t a no!” he shouted towards her. She spun around and began to walk backwards. She had a huge grin on her lips as she shook her head. 

He returned the smile before he slipped back into his apartment. He shut the door behind him and laughed nervously as he walked back towards his kitchen.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket while he walked in front of the stove. He pulled it out to see an unknown number calling him. He smiled as he brought it towards his ear. “Hello,” he dragged out. 

“Did I hear you right, Quinn Hughes?” Y/N said on her end of the phone. 

“What’d I say?” he asked with a smirk toying to his lips. He hasn’t felt giddy like this in months, maybe even years. He missed the feeling. 

“Hmmm, that you wanted to kiss me,” she offered, a smile evident in her tone. 

“Did I say that? I don’t know if I said that,” he teased, “Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?”

“No, no I definitely heard you say it,” 

“Maybe you imagined me saying that because you wanted to kiss me too,” 

She let out a sudden laugh, “You just admitted you said you wanted to kiss me,”

“I don’t think I did. I guess you’re just gonna have to come over and find out,”

[em-harlsnow]

i love gallavich in season 7 simply because of how grabby Mickey is. in no other season do we see him being so handsy with ian. first, there’s the collar-grab after mickey kind of kidnaps him, the way ian starts to melt into that, about to give in before mickey breaks away. then there’s the dock, and obviously the first kiss is grabby on both sides because it’s basically a violent kiss (in a good way). but the second kiss. THE SECOND ONE!! where it’s them basically licking each other, and mickey’s touching wherever he can, with his hands around ian’s collarbones and neck again. obviously, then they fuck and it’s a fade-to-black, but not before we see ian grabbing mickey’s hand and pressing it against the boat.

BUT THEN!!! THEN THERES THE SPIDER-MAN KISS!!! The way mickey’s grabbing at Ian’s back and pulling him in because he can’t get enough, because he doesn’t want ian to go, because he needs ian. he’s literally desperate.

i fucking love those episodes of season 7 because it shows exactly how much they need each other, how passionate they are and how their dynamic is basically just them fighting with sex and love. so weird, so good!

[ofbatsandballads]

“like real people do” by hozier is so jason todd coded it has me writing purple prose at 1pm on a friday. i was listening to that masterpiece of a song and couldn’t stop thinking of jay’s childhood first love being there the night he came back. so out came this sort of au based on the ‘superboy punches reality’ version of his resurrection.

tw for depictions of jason’s torture and murder, his being resurrected and escaping his grave, reader’s severe depression and suicidal ideation surrounding her grief, heavy codependency implied between jason and reader, and general resurrection angst.

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn’t that how these things always go? Horrid cliches find unexpected ways of coming back to life. Much like the life that sparks suddenly within the boy in the casket. Black, dark nothingness becomes humid, suffocating air. He tries to sit up and meets silk-covered mahogany that traps him. The boy in the casket does not know where he is. He does not know who he is.

He remembers feelings. Something loud, bright, and hot that made everything go dark. Resignation, the urge to protect, forgiveness. The feeling of his skull cracking, his collarbone shattering under the blunt force of metal. The laughter the laughter the laughter it is driving him mad. The white hot pain of his legs snapping under the weight of the man that laughs. The guttural feeling of betrayal and fear. The smell of cigarettes. He is the sweet boy that wants his mother.

Hope, bright and incandescent. Rebellion and longing. Anger, angst, the horrible need to be understood by the people you love most. Ambition, pride, joy, encouragement; the warmth of family. He is no longer a fatherless son. Hope, wary but resilient. Fear, then relief, at the sight of the Dark Knight.

The boy in the casket remembers. He still does not know who he is. But he knows he has a father. He knows it because he is screaming for his father as he tears through the silk and scrapes the skin from his fingers against the hard mahogany. He screams for his father as he kicks through the wood, as the damp earth fills the enclosed space and steals the little air that remains for him to breathe. He is thinking of his father as he pulls his body through the hole he made. The jagged wood is digging into his side and he feels blood drip hot down his torso. It’s different from the wet cold that surrounds him and he focuses on that to stay cognizant. But the earth presses in and he is tired. He is so very tired.

He remembers something else. He remembers being tired once before, but he was warm then. He remembers being cozy under blankets. Innocent laughter and innocent kisses. The prettiest eyes he’s ever seen and the love that gleamed just for him shining within them. Then a voice. Melodic and beautiful and sweet as honey.

“C’mon, Jay, don’t fall asleep yet.”

You would not want him to fade back into the eternal sleep he just woke from. No. He cannot go back just yet. He tries to dig upward, but his body aches. The earth grows thicker, turns to sludge that drowns him. He shoves one hand over his face to claim a bit of air and is given a mouthful of mud instead. He chokes out one final scream. His head is getting fuzzy, lack of air making his skull feel cotton-filled and staticky. Still he digs up and up and up. But there’s no light. Just more earth. Maybe he does belong here. Maybe someone made a mistake and gave him a few moments that were meant for someone else. He makes one last push, that familiar resignation washing over him again as he closes his eyes. Then a hand wraps tight around his wrist and he’s showered in the cold midnight rain.

You have a secret. It’s personal and it’s abnormal and it’s yours. You’ve been sleeping on Jason Todd’s grave for the past week. No one knows. Well, Bruce Wayne knows. He must. His son’s grave is on his estate, after all, and the Bat’s security measures are the best you’ve ever seen. You don’t know why he’s letting his dead son’s girlfriend sleep on his grave, but you’re thankful he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

It’s been four years since Jason died. Four years and you still can’t accept it. You visit him every day. You bring him flowers and read him books and tell him about your life. You try to pretty it up a bit for him. You tell him about the new sundress you bought; it’s red, his favorite color. You tell him about the amazing bakery that opened up in the Heights and how you think he’d adore their chocolate chip cookies.

You don’t tell him that you’re so depressed over his absence that there are times when you go weeks existing only in your bed with sparse trips to the bathroom. You don’t tell him that you dropped out of college after your first year, that you failed in your joint promise to go to Gotham City University together. You just couldn’t handle it. The weight of your grief is already an iron chain around your throat, hooked to an eternal anchor. You didn’t need the pressure of perfect grades—an unshakeable requirement of your scholarship as you couldn’t afford to go to school any other way. You certainly don’t tell him that you’ve considered joining him, that sometimes that seems like the only thing you want anymore.

But it’s been getting worse. You miss him. Not in any way that’s healthy. At least that’s what you were told by the grief counselor your mother made you see. You miss him so badly that you’re sleeping on his grave come hell or high water. Tonight it’s high water. The cold rain soaks through your hoodie and sweats, but you don’t care. You’ve stabbed an umbrella into the ground and you’ve got an old blanket under you, so you’re all set. The bone-chilling cold of the water doesn’t matter. The way that it lures you to sleep doesn’t matter. Your body temperature is probably dropping and sleep to the freezing is deadly, but that doesn’t matter either. What matters is that you’re here with the boy you love.

You have another secret. This one’s worse, so terrible that you even scare yourself. You’ve been considering digging up Jason’s grave for the past thirty minutes. It started subconsciously. You didn’t even realize you were clawing into the ground until the grass was uprooted. You’ve made a good dent now, maybe six inches or so. It’s insane. You’re insane. But you ache to be close to him. Jason Todd took half of your soul with him when he was lowered into the ground. The better half; the half of you that was light and joyous and filled with love. You want it back. You want him back. You don’t know what you would do if you dug up his grave, but you know that you’d be closer to him than six feet.

You lie in the rain and contemplate why you’re here. You’ve missed him this fiercely every day for the last four years. It’s just this past week that you’ve been drawn to sleep on the earth above him. Like a moth to flame, like Ariadne’s golden thread leading out of the darkness of the labyrinth. Or maybe you’ve finally lost what’s left of your mind. You think you have when you hear noises from beneath the earth.

“Finally talking to me, Jay?” you ask.

Melancholy sarcasm is made weak by the way your teeth chatter and how your shivering leaks into your tone. But then you hear it again. It’s faint, deep below and muffled but it’s there. Then a thudding noise. Over and over and over. Your heart kicks to life. Adrenaline shoots through you and the cold seeped into your body melts with the heat of it. Jason is dead. He’s been dead for four years. But something is alive in his grave. Your hands sink into the small hole you’ve already made and you shovel the earth out in a manic rush. You dig and dig and dig. Your arms are elbow deep when you feel fingers brush against your own. You should be afraid. You should run. Instead you reach further, grasp hard around the wrist and pull. The ground gives way and your reality shatters in an instant. You’ve just pulled Jason Todd from his grave.

He’s bigger than you remember. His body weight is crushing as he collapses on top of you. (You’re smaller than he remembers. He has a crystal clear image of looking up into those pretty eyes and now he can barely feel you squished underneath him.)

He’s covered in sodden earth from head to toe. There’s blood seeping warmly from his torso into your red hoodie. (Your arms are caked in mud. Why? What were you digging for?)

Even with his difference in size—he must be well over a foot taller and at least one hundred pounds heavier—there is nothing that compares to the pure shock of looking into his eyes. Piercing gunmetal blue that you see every time you close your eyes is now a deep seafoam green. And yet looking into them you still feel like you’re home again. (Those pretty eyes are still the same. They still have that gleam of love when they land on him. But they’re also red and bloodshot like you’ve been crying. Please don’t cry. He doesn’t want you to be sad. He loves you. He doesn’t know your name but he knows that he loves you.)

You’re both as still as the memorial statues of Martha and Thomas that loom protectively beside Jason’s grave. Shock settles in.

“Jason. Oh my God. Jason, you’re—“ your voice breaks before you can say the words you thought would only come in dreams.

“Alive,” he croaks, voice dry and grating from lack of use.

He is alive. He is alive and breathing and with you again. You don’t know what caused this, why a dead boy crawled from his grave in the body of a man, but you’re not going to ask questions. The only answer you need is lying in your arms. Tears stream down your face, only differentiated from the rain by their warmth.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” you murmur into his mud-soaked hair as you cradle his head in the crook of your neck.

“Here,” he echoes. “Real?”

It doesn’t feel like it. His head is hazy and clouded but he’s starting to recall things. Like a steady trickle of water coalescing into a stream, into a river, into a flood. He remembers your name. He remembers stolen tires and bat ears. He remembers chamomile tea with a butler and stories of old theatre productions. He remembers how all the classic romance novels in his freshman English class looked just like the pretty girl sitting at the desk to his right. He remembers sweet giggles and shaky hands and soft kisses. He remembers. But he can’t speak it. He can’t find the words or the comprehension. He sees these things in flashes, feels them in his bones but he can’t make his mind and body catch up. So he lurches forward, stiff and clumsy, and tries to replicate the warmth of your kisses that have survived death itself.

You kiss Jason Todd for the first time in four years. You taste your tears, the damp earth, and the blood from where he’s bitten his own tongue. You have never tasted anything better because for right now it tastes like him.

“Real. We’re real.”

A sweet surprise and a gentle reminder. The other halves of your souls have been returned, and you are both allowed to exist again.

[mocchiixxx]

Seventeen's 95z Yandere One-Shot Trilogy # | 1: Mine First

Genre: Dark Yandere, Psychological Thriller, Twisted Romance

Choi Seungcheol | Scoups x Famous Actress Reader

Inspo Lyric: “Getting closer, I’m coming for you…”

Summary: You were never his. But he made sure you’d never belong to anyone else. A rising actress caught in the spotlight, until Choi Seungcheol, the man who’s always watched from the shadows, finally steps in. He doesn’t want fame. He wants you. And now that he has you locked away where the world can’t touch you? You’ll learn to love him. Because in his world... You were his first. And his only.

🍒Trilogy#1 • 😇Trilogy#2 • 🦌 Trilogy#3

You were never his.

But he made sure you’d never be anyone else’s either.

You were on top of the world.

Rising actress. Every endorsement, every spotlight, every envious eye was on you. And you should’ve felt untouchable.

But that feeling of being watched?

It never left.

Every red carpet felt like a trap. Every script, somehow twisted to reflect your life.

And when you opened your newest project folder, you froze. The male lead’s character?

Choi Seungcheol.

Written exactly like him.

You met him once, briefly, years ago. A casting panelist. Quiet, intense. Gave you a look that felt like a cage.

He never spoke then.

But you remembered the weight of his stare. You didn’t know he remembered everything.

The way your hand trembled during your audition. The way you smiled too politely. The way your lips shaped his name when you read your lines.

Now, he stands in your dressing room. Wearing black. Leather gloves. No smile.

“You're overworking yourself,” he says casually. Like he belongs here. Like you invited him in.

“I’m here to bring you home.”

You choke back a scream.

“You’re crazy— what the hell are you doing here—”

“Shhh.” He grabs your wrist. Not harshly. Not gently either. Enough to remind you that strength is on his side.

“I warned you before. This industry eats people like you alive.”

You try to pull back, desperately.

“You’re not my guardian.”

His eyes flash.

“No. I’m your owner.”

They find your phone in a trash can outside the building.

The press is told you’re on a health hiatus.

The world waits. But you’ve already vanished.

Because when Seungcheol said home, he meant the glass-walled cabin in the forest.

Every inch monitored.

Every door locked.

Every camera pointed at you.

You break the first week. Scream. Fight. Scratch.

He lets you.

Doesn’t flinch when you throw a chair. Only watches. Silent. Calm.

And when you collapse on the floor, shaking, he crouches beside you.

“You’re safe now.” His hands stroke your hair.

“No more lies. No more pretending. Just you and me.”

You try to hate him. You do hate him.

But hate means thinking about him. And that’s what he wants.

He breaks you down with routine. Tea exactly how you like it. Scripts on the table, roles you didn’t even audition for, but somehow he got them for you.

“I’m the reason they hired you,” he whispers once in the dark. “I’ve always been the reason.”

The worst part?

You believe him.

Months pass. Or maybe weeks. Time doesn’t work right here.

He kisses you one night, and you don’t pull away. Your body is shaking... but your lips part anyway.

And when he presses your back against the glass, moonlight making your outline visible from the outside world you can no longer reach, he tells you:

“You were always meant to be mine first.”

You shiver.

“I won’t share you. Not with fans. Not with the world. Not even with the other two who think they love you.”

You blink.

“What?”

He just smirks.

“They're getting closer. But I’ll always be ahead of them.”

He lifts your chin.

“Because unlike them, I already have you.”

You don't scream anymore.

You don’t cry.

You sit beside him at the window, hands intertwined, watching the world fade like a bad dream.

He kisses the side of your head and whispers:

“Say it.”

And for the first time—

“I’m yours, Seungcheol.”

He smiles.

A victory carved in obsession.

END. (But the others are getting closer.)

A/N: Hii! To the one who requested this, your request inbox vanished but luckily I remember the theme of your request so here it is. I hope this gets to you and hope you like this. Jeonghan and Joshua's are coming soon so stay tuned! Good day/ afternoon/night!

[sjyuns]

🗒️ 、HOW SWEET

downbad!sunghoon x fem reader 500 words warnings kissing genre fluff mikaela’s note back to my roots of simping over men w glasses

Sunghoon wonders if you know how sweet you taste.

It lingers on, the taste of you — a hint of cherry pomegranate under the tint of mauve that glazed over your lips. The cold air sends chills down his spine yet his glasses fog up at the tickle of your warm breath caressing him in winter midnight.

And it feels like summer, the way you make him feel so alive. His cheeks a shade pink as he brushes it off, blaming it on winter when it’s really you that’s to blame.

The existing fatigue from his arduous day fades into a mere shadow beneath the both of you as he presses his lips onto yours yet again.

“It’s cold Hoon, we should head in,” you murmur as you watch his glasses fog up yet again — and you want to draw heart shaped stars around the lenses of them, a symbol of your love towards him.

Your boyfriend hums, pulling you closer into his arms. “Just a while more,” he answers softly, fingers wrapped delicately around your waist, chin perched on your head.

And if the winter wind had memories, it’d remember the countless times you and Sunghoon spent in the chill, away from the comfort of your home. The gentle breeze through the leaves, yet strong enough to engulf the both of you — making you savour the warmth brought by him.

Sunghoon shifts from his comfortable position to catch your gaze, a small smile appearing on his face as he moves in to kiss you for the nth time. And you can see the tinted mauve pink that you’ve transferred onto his lips, a testament of the love shared between the both of you.

“What are you doing,” you giggle softly, the quiet atmosphere calming and alluring, as you stare at Sunghoon — clad in his favourite black Armani suit and tie, sleek black hair slightly messy after a long day of work. And you can’t help but notice the shades of pink that contrast his aloof aura.

Sunghoon stares back, admiration shining through his eyes. “It’s because you’re too pretty,” he comments, facial expressions serious and stern.

You scoff, pulling away from his embrace, and Sunghoon’s body instinctively searches for your warmth again. “I told you not to say sappy things,” you whined, “it’s cringey, Hoon,” you grimace, holding back a giggle.

“It’s not sappy, it’s real,” he reiterates, taking big steps to return by your side, fingers once again finding their way to the dip of your waist; pulling you into him, “you’re the prettiest girl in the world.”

You throw your head back in laughter, filling the once empty atmosphere with a ringing melody. “And I guess you’re the handsomest man in the world.”

“You guess?” Sunghoon probes, fingers tickling your sides as he dips down to get a taste of your lips once more.

And even with the thousand more kisses Sunghoon takes from you, he can’t seem to get over how sweet your lips taste.

© SJYUNS

[munsonsmixtapes]

First Time

Find part two here!

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

since smut won the poll, heres what I came up with!

summary: you hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom

cw: MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob

The club was very overcrowded with dancing bodies covering the dance floor. You had a drink in your hand and were dancing the night away without a care in the world. By that time in the night, you usually had someone to take home, but you came up empty handed. Nobody looked good. They were all either drunk off their asses or definitely looked like they’d slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

You scanned the place one last time, deciding that if you didn’t find anyone, you’d just go home by yourself, your only company being your fingers and vibrator. They did the job just fine, but sometimes you just didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

You noticed a table that was to the far left. Four men were sitting at it, laughing their asses off about something while sipping from their drinks. Your eyes locked on the one with curly hair, deciding that he was the one. He was so pretty and definitely your type. As you got closer, you could see that he had a beard which made you even more attracted to him.

You could practically imagine his beard scraping your chin and above your top lip as he kissed you roughly, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to pull you closer.

As you approached the table, you noticed the small silver hoop looped through the right side of his nose. You loved men with piercings, finding them to be very attractive. Everyone at the table but him looked your way, all curious as to who you were going to talk to.

“Hey handsome,” you greeted but he still wasn’t making eye contact with you, almost as if he was avoiding it. The Black guy sitting next to him nudged his shoulder and he turned in his direction, only for his friend to point to you.

“Me?” He seemed confused as he pointed at himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You are handsome, aren’t you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow as he got all flustered. God, he was adorable.

“I mean, I guess so,” he shrugged. You loved a modest man. Too many of them had a lot of confidence for being so mediocre.

“What’s your name?” His own name completely faded from his brain. Women didn’t usually talk to him, especially not super hot women such as yourself.

“Eddie,” the guy on the other side of him answered for him. For whatever reason, the name suited him. He looked like an Eddie.

“Well, Eddie, do you want to dance with me?” Dance? Eddie could do that to save his life, but since such a beautiful woman was asking, he had no choice but to say yes.

“He’d love to,” the same guy answered for him and pushed him up from his seat. You weren’t going to dance with him if he didn’t want to. Consent was very important and only wanted to do things with people if they were really enthusiastic about it. And that went for both inside and outside the bedroom.

“Would you?” You asked, wanting to make sure.

“I really would,” he nodded furiously and stood up from his chair, taking the hand that you were offering him.

You pulled Eddie out on the dance floor and he was quick to turn to his friends in panic. He had no idea what he was doing, but they all just gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

He liked the way your hand felt in his, all soft and warm. He let you lead him through all of the drunk, dancing bodies on the floor, just happy to be there. He tried his best to keep up with how fast your legs were moving. There was no way that he was losing you in the crowd. He could barely handle going to clubs with his friends, let alone by himself.

This whole thing was so overstimulating; the lights, the loud music and the people yelling over the loud music. Eddie hated it, but he only went because his friends liked it. While they danced, he sat at the table, throwing back glasses of whiskey like they were going out of style.

But there he was, actually getting his ass out onto the floor because you had asked him. He had denied so many invitations because he was afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of which had just been a product of not being desired in his youth. He was the freak, a loser, a person who just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. So why did he think that he was worth yours?

You stopped in the center of the floor and turned your back to him, taking no time to grind your ass on his dick to the beat of the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but he was loving whatever was going on.

You grabbed his hands that were still by his side and guided him to rest them on your waist. You moved to the music together and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard at the feelings of your ass grinding against his crotch.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. You turned around as the song chance and draped your arms around his shoulders. Eddie’s hands ended up on your ass when you moved in his arms and quickly slid his hands up to your back, thinking that it was a safe place for them.

“You’re quite the dancer, Eddie,” you smiled and he was grateful that you couldn’t see his blush in the terrible club lighting. He knew you were lying but he appreciated the compliment. He couldn’t dance to save his life and was sure that you agreed.

“Oh, am I?” He sounded so unsure and you thought it was refreshing that a man as attractive as him had no idea how good he was at anything.

“Definitely,” you nodded then leaned closer, your lips right by your ear. “You know, I can take care of that little problem in your pants if you’d like.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at both your breath and thinking about you “taking care” of his boner.

The thought made him kind of nervous. He didn’t have any sexual experience, hell, he hadn’t even kissed anyone since Josie Geller when he was thirteen and that hadn’t really counted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, he’d had many, but his insecurity always got the best of him. He was just convinced that it was all a prank and was quick to shut it down, not wanting to fall for anything like that again. He had had enough tin high school.

But for some reason, he has fully believed that you were being genuine. He could see the look in your eyes; it was excited and full of lust. You had to be telling the truth. Either that, or you were just a really good actress and he didn’t think that was the case.

“I would love that.” His words came out breathy and rushed and he hoped that you couldn’t see how desperate he was for you to help him with his little problem.

You took him by the hand and the two of you made a beeline for the bathroom. Eddie was almost giggling while you kept it cool. You had had your fair share of bathroom sex while he hadn’t had sex period. It was almost funny how opposite you were.

You pushed the women’s bathroom door open and checked to make sure no one else was in there before pushing him into one of the stalls. Eddie pressed his hands against the walls so he wouldn’t fall into the toilet while you locked the door and turned around to face him, your eyes lighting up as you took him in.

He was so hot even in the dark of the bathroom stall with the way his messy, curly hair that you just wanted to run your hands through, giving it a tug as pounded into you. Your gaze moved to his pretty pink lips and you could see that they were a bit chapped but you hardly minded. You just needed to feel them on yours.

You leaned forward, but Eddie put his hand on your shoulder to stop you. He took a deep breath before licking his lips, preparing himself to tell you the truth. He felt he owed that to you.

“Before we start anything, I should tell you that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widened, now feeling guilty for pulling him into the stall. You pulled your hands away, backing up to the door, trying your best to give him space in the small area.

“Oh my god, I-I had no idea.” You put your hands up to your face to cover it, but Eddie quickly pulled them away.

“How could you have known?” Eddie wasn’t going to blame you for something you didn’t know. He just wanted you to be aware of the situation before you continued.

“We don’t-we don’t have to-”

“But I want to.” Even though Eddie didn’t know you, he still felt like he could trust you, not getting a single feeling in his gut like he had all the other times women approached him. It just felt right being there with you and he was hoping you felt the same.

“You do?” You wanted to be one hundred percent certain before you continued, wanting him to be absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

“So badly. I mean,” his snapped to his still very hard dick and your gaze followed. “Still want to take care of it for me?”

“You’re sure you want to lose it to a stranger?” Eddie stepped closer to you so that you were chest to chest. He looked at you, taking in all your features and now that he was looking at you up close, he could confirm that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn’t have been more honored to have you take his virginity.

“I’m sure.” He gave you a nod and you slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck while his went to your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his, capturing his bottom lip between your two.

He was quick to respond, mimicking your actions, hoping that he was as good at it as you were. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he was confident that you’d teach him, showing him exactly what he needed to do so he was fully prepared for next time.

The kiss slowly progressed to hot and heavy as you swiped your tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip. He opened up and let his tangle with yours, a whimper escaping from the back of his throat as he did so. His eyes widened at the noise and he pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you told him softly. “Make as much noise as you want. And actually, I found that really hot.” Even though first times could be awkward for some, you wanted Eddie’s to be memorable for him. Something he could look back on positively and not in embarrassment.

“Oh.” His cheeks burned at your compliment and you thought it was adorable how you could make him blush so easily.

“Wanna make it again?” Eddie thought for a moment and decided that he did, especially since you thought it sounded hot.

“I do, actually,” he nodded and your lips were back on his in a second. You licked into his mouth once again and he let out another whimper, not holding it back this time. You felt your cunt getting wet at hearing the noise and you slow moved your hand down his chest, stopping right when it got to his belt buckle.

You pulled away and looked at him for permission. He nodded his head furiously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and you slowly unbuckled his belt, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. You pulled down his pants and let them his the tops of his shoes before shimmying his underwear down his legs. You let out a gasp at how big he was, feeling honored that you were the first one that he was going to let touch it.

“Wow,” you said, looking back up at his eyes. “You really are huge, aren’t you? I’m going to consider myself grateful that you’re going to let me take care of it.”

“Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, to be honest.”

Beads of pre were falling from the head and you looked around for your purse that had fallen to the floor at some point. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and put some in one of your hands before letting it and your purse to fall back to the floor.

You stepped forward and grabbed hold of Eddie’s dick, moving your hand up and down the shaft slowly to test the waters to see if he liked it. His hands moved to hold on to the wall as he threw his head back. A moan fell from his lips and you were convinced that you hadn’t heard anything hotter.

You continued to pump, making your movements harder and faster at his commands, wanting him to be in control and tell you what he wanted. Moan after moan fell from his lips and now you felt like he was ready for more.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked, your hand slowing down, but still moving at a good pace. Eddie still had his head titled backwards, his eyes closed and you felt yourself getting even more wet at seeing him like that, coming undone from your touch.

“God, please,” he groaned and you slowly dropped to your knees.

Your hand wrapped around the base and you took him into your mouth giving his dick a suck while your tongue swirled around the head. Eddie’s hands pressed flat against the stall as he threw his head back even more at the pleasure he was experiencing. God, this was so much better than using his hand.

“Shit,” he moaned, his breath becoming heavy. He closed his eyes, trying hard to prevent his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

You continued to suck, taking all of him into your mouth, ignoring the fact that your eyes were watering, desperate to give him the best head of his life. Your tongue swiped along to tip another time as you sucked the hardest you could, eliciting the prettiest sounds from Eddie.

For the finale, you stood up and gently pulled down on his chin to force him to look at you. His eyes opened and he watched you swallow, feeling his knees buckle as you did so. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” he moaned and pulled you into a kiss, his beard scratching roughly at your skin as he took what he wanted from you, you happy to be pliant under his touch. His hands moved down to your pants and you let him unbutton them, pushing them down so they hit your ankles and you kicked them off, leaving them in a small pile next to you.

“Is that all for me?” Eddie asked, his lips parting as he stared down at the wet patch that had dampened your underwear.

“And only for you,” you winked. “You think you’re ready to get inside me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he breathed.

You pulled a condom from your purse and opened it before sliding it onto his cock. Once he was all set, you stepped forward, helping him line up with your pussy. He then slowly entered you, the two of you letting out moans as he did so.

He grabbed onto your waist and slowly pumped in and out of you, trying to feel it out for himself. You moaned as he pumped, closing your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed onto his neck.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, unsure and you just moaned in response.

“Oh, Eddie.”

He began to moved a little faster which elicited more moans from you as you wound your hands into his hair, giving it tug after tug. You both moved together, feeling nothing but pleasure as he began to pound into you.

“Just like that, baby, yeah,” you whined and Eddie continued, feeling super confident about his movements, knowing that you’d let him know if you didn’t like something.

Sex was far better than he thought it was going to be, but he was sure that it was all because of you. You had been nothing but sweet and kind and made him feel like a king. How was he going to have sex with anyone else when his first time was practically perfect.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna-” he cut himself off as he reached his climax, suddenly feeling embarrassed that it had happened so quick.

“That’s right, honey,” you told him. “Let it out. You’re doing so well.”

“But I finished.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less how quickly he had finished. That just meant that you could have gone for round two that much faster if he was up for it.

“That’s okay,” you assured him as he pulled out. “Do you wanna…take this back to my place? I think it’d be more preferable to being here.”

“I’d love to go back to your place.” He pulled the condom off of his cock and tied it off before disposing of it. He then pulled up his underwear and pants before buckling his belt.

“Do you want to call a cab while I clean myself up here?” You asked and Eddie just nodded silently. You both shuffled around the stall so he could get to the door. You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before he opened the door. He then stepped out and pulled out his phone to call the cab company while you took a piss then cleaned yourself up.

You were confident that you had just had the best sex of your life. Who knew that a virgin knew exactly how to make you cum as opposed to men who slept around all the time? Maybe it was because he was actually interested in pleasing you.

As Eddie ordered the cab, he couldn’t help but let the images of you orgasming flash in his head. It was the hottest thing hearing you moan like that and he was looking forward to hearing it again and again even after the night was over. Maybe if he played his cards right, you’d invite him over again.

You exited the bathroom as Eddie hung up the phone and placed your lips on his, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that has been the exact opposite of the last one you had given him.

“C’mon,” you reached for his hand once you pulled away. “Let get out of here.” He put his hand in yours and you led him out of the bathroom and through the club, confident that you’d make his second time even better than the first.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Morning Voice｡⋆.

König x plus size reader

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Just imagine their morning voices

Warnings: Lou is thirsty again, implied smut, secret relationship, mutual pinning, injuries, fluff, little angst, itty bitty bit of smut, might be ooc König, mention of stitches

WC: 970

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

König

It was the voices that woke you up. They were muffled behind the door to your private room but just loud enough to rouse you from a surprisingly restful sleep. You blinked your eyes open but the warmth that surrounded you and the heavy weight across your soft stomach urged you back to sleep.

Just as your eyelids fluttered shut once more, a thought occurred to you. You shuffled backwards just slightly and your ass came into contact with something hard and teasingly hot. There came a deep groan from above your head and the weight around your stomach tightened, drawing you even further back into them.

“Stop moving, liebling.” (darling) His voice rumbled through you like an earthquake, shaking you down to your core. It was breathy but not weak, no, you could hear its power waiting just below the surface. The German rolled off his tongue in a way that made your eyes roll back into your head.

“König.” You whimpered. “You have to go, they’ll find out.” But you made no effort to pull away from his protective hold, in fact you snuggled back into the colonel, putting your right hand on top of his own much larger one. 

He laughed softly into your hair before planting a kiss to the crown of your head. “I think you would rather me stay spatzi.” (little sparrow) Long fingers danced down your plump stomach, drawing closer and closer to your core. “I think you need me right here.” 

You gasped as he finally cupped your mound, the butt of his hand brushing against your overworked clit. “König.” You bit your lip, trying to keep your voice down.

“That seems to be all you can say this morning.” He teased and rolled his hips into your ass, forcing his hardening length between her cheeks. “How about I make you scream it?”

Ghost

The words on the report in front of you had stopped making sense about 2 paragraphs ago but you continued your attempt at reading the action report just to distract from the sight only a few feet away from you. The room was silent save for the quiet beeping of the heart monitor and the almost deafening sound of your own breathing.

With a groan, you threw the folder of papers onto your cluttered desk and looked back up to the bed in front of you. 

He was only wearing a tight black shirt and tan cargo pants but you had insisted that the old skull balaclava remain firmly on his head. His wide chest rose and fell consistently, giving you peace of mind even as your hands still burned from stitching up so much of his body and the smell of blood still overpowered that hospital smell you had grown so used to.

He looked so small laying on the infirmary cot, his normally overwhelming presence now dwindling down to an ember and it broke your heart. Not because you were in love with the man! You cared out of professional obligation given you were the only doctor for the 141. 

As the clock struck 3 am, you stood up from your desk and approached the bed. You told yourself that you were just going to check his stitches but you never even touched his bandages. Instead you sat on the rickety folding chair that Gaz had found in one of the broom closets. 

Simon’s hand was devastatingly cold as you took it into your own. You cradled his palm, tracing over the various silvery lines of scars with your fingertips. Exhaustion hit you all at once and you couldn’t help but slump over the huge man, your head coming to rest on his thick thigh. “Only for a second,” You muttered, “Just need to rest my eyes.”

His whole body ached as Simon slowly slipped back into consciousness. His mouth was dry and parts of his skin felt stretched to its limits. But as he opened his eyes, all of that faded away. You were dead asleep on his lap, holding his hand as small snores escaped your lips.

He tutted at the huge dark bags beneath your eyes and he vaguely wondered how long you had been awake for. With his other hand, he cupped your head, marvelling at the way that he almost covered your whole head. You grunted softly and nuzzled into his touch.

Simon would love to let you keep sleeping especially since you were using him as a pillow but your neck was at a weird angle and he didn’t imagine that the metal folding chair you were sitting on was particularly comfortable. 

So with a considerable amount of hesitation, he spoke up. “Doc.” His voice was broken and husky, just barely louder than the machines attached to him. Your brows scrunched and you burrowed further into his thigh, clutching his left hand even tighter.

He smiled beneath his balaclava. 

Pain ripped through his body as Simon bent forward. He slipped his hand from your hold carefully in order to slip them both under your armpits. You were a dead weight in his arms, exacerbating the tight stitches on his sides but he still pulled you up easily, laying your soft body down between his legs. 

Your head fell to his shoulder, nose immediately pushing against his throat. “Si?” You asked sleepily, attempting to sit up but a hand on your shoulder and another one on your wide hip prevented you from moving. 

“Go back to sleep doc, I’ll still be hurt in the morning.” Heat crawled up your neck with the deepness of his voice and you found yourself unable to disagree, even though you were probably causing him even more pain. You nodded against his skin and Simon squeezed your hip gently. “That’s my good girl.” He purred.

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[luveline]

Hiiii sugarplum. I would absolutely adore some stripper reader x Hotch maybe like some of him comforting her or just coming to visit like outside of the case and some fluff 🥰🥰

ty for requesting!! fem

You’re texting on the wall outside of work when a shadow cuts across the streetlight illuminating your lap. Your head flinches up, phone to your chest, but the man standing in front of you isn’t one you’ve ever been scared of. “Fuck, Aaron, you scared me,” you say with a nervous laugh. 

He smiles at you in his gentle, unassuming way. “Sorry. I took care to scuff my shoes as I walked.”

“Oh, you took care,” you say. Your smile is far less gentle than his; your cheeks apple, your words coloured with it. “I was in my own world.” 

“I thought we talked about you coming outside alone.”

“Did we?” you ask, the short wall you’re sitting on biting into your hands and thighs as you tip back to grin at him teasingly. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, I can’t seem to remember any such talk.” 

“Mm.” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t remember that?” 

“Don’t recall, no.”

“So you also won’t remember the conversation we had about flowers.” 

Your first date, your only date, and your first bouquet. He’d given you flowers and read the embarrassment on your face immediately. You aren’t the kind of girl who gets flowers. 

What’s wrong? he’d asked. 

You’d held the flowers to your chest, something in you worried he’d take them away, though you’re almost positive he’s incapable of being cruel like that. Do I look stupid? 

Of course you don’t. 

There hadn’t been much else to say about the flowers, until after the evening had gone well, and he’d asked you for another date. High with the delight of knowing Spencer’s nice, handsome boss doesn’t just think you’re pretty, he likes you, you’d said Sure, if you bring me another lovely bouquet, we can go on as many dates as you like. 

Aaron pulls the bouquet from behind his back. Petals bounce off of his tie, pinks and whites and baby blues against his black blazer and pristine white shirt as he taps his chest. They’re beautiful, and far too many. 

“Are they really for me?” you ask. You’ve never seen such a big bouquet in your life. It’s a wonder they fit behind his back. 

The strangest thing about dating him has been his sudden propensity for moments of shyness. “That depends,” he says, the slightest hint of nerves in his otherwise dulcet tone, “are they nice enough?” 

“They’re the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen.” You stand up and hold out your hands, pull them back to your chest, and then hold them back out again. You can’t not want them. 

He hands them off to you. 

It must be weird for him to meet you like this. He’s very high up the ladder of his career, and it doesn’t make much sense for him to fall for you. You’re younger, less educated, less prestigiously employed. You hadn’t understood what it was about you that pulled him in, but you can remember how clearly he told you he was interested in you. No shame. Not a hint of reluctance. He’s bringing you flowers outside of the stripclub, ignoring the fact that you’re in sweatpants and a tight corset-type bra, and he hasn’t looked at your body once. 

“I was just texting you,” you say, opening your phone to press send on the text waiting in the hot bar. 

Aaron’s phone immediately pings. 

He reads it quickly. It isn’t a long message. Hi, handsome. Want to pick me up tonight? 

If he’d said yes or no didn’t matter, because you’d just wanted to talk to him, and here he is. 

He finally ducks in. A half side step into your reach, his face angled down, he kisses you chastely on the lips and everything fades away. The neon pink at your feet, the buzzing streetlights and the passing cars, the steady thump of music from three different buildings, it all disappears under his warm hand. He kisses you, and he hugs you to his chest, careful not to crush your flowers. You could glow from the inside out. 

He’s still smiling as he pulls away. “Are you hungry?” he asks softly. 

“So hungry.” 

“We can get anything you want.” 

“Really? What if I want the same as last time?” 

It had been expensive and you’d felt vaguely underdressed. Aaron doesn’t baulk. “Anything you want… You may need to wear my jacket, though. I don’t think your current outfit adheres to their dress code.” 

You push the flowers just under his nose. “Funny.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Out Of Luck

"Perhaps I'm not the only one who's going to be wed in King's Landing," Sansa jeers with a grin. I glare at her, "if you weren't my sister, I'd have stabbed you." The girl giggles and takes my arm.

Petyr Baelish & Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, descriptions of reader (black hair), widow!reader, enemies to lovers?, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: felt right so I'm writing it. Yes, I added Harwin Strong, yes I know it's not canon. It is now in my world 😌 anyway, he's still dead so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Cross posted on AO3!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera

"Father" I call with a smile. He spots me and I lift my skirt as I jog up to him.

The man hides what he was holding behind him. He smiles and meets me halfway in the hall. He greets me good morrow when I link my arm with his and kiss his cheek.

"And is that... a very important tool of the Lord Hand?" I tilt my head as I ask, "might I not even see it?"

He sighs and slowly brings the object in front of him. We both look at the brightly dressed doll. My father has an apprehensive look on his face. I hold back a laugh, "ah, a pretty dolly. Are you quite bored of your job already? Do they give dolls to the Hand or were you duped into buying this?"

"I knew you'd say something like this," he mutters.

"If you knew I'd say it, why'd you still get it, papa?" I chuckle.

"I bought it for your sister."

I make a face, "my sister?" I raise a brow, "which between Arya and Sansa do you think would prefer playing with such an ugly dolly?"

He calls my name out.

"What?"

He lowers the doll, "it's not that ugly."

"So even you agree," I snigger, "and yet you still bought it!"

We both begin to walk down the hall.

He warns me, "I'll tell on your mother."

"For what?" I hold back a laugh.

"For calling me papa," he lifts his nose.

I chuckle at the thought. Mother never liked it when I used mama and papa; improper for a lady, she says. I think it's also because when I use it, I pull on their heart strings and manage to make them do my bidding. Twas the gift of the first born.

"I can hear it now," I grin at the man as I squeeze his arm, "Eddard Stark," I motion vaguely, "stripped of his title as Lord Hand for his poor taste in dolls."

My grin widens at the sound if his low laugh. I give a louder laugh, happy to have gotten the reaction I did out of him. It's been a while since I've heard my father chuckle, or anyone from my family, for that matter.

"I wouldn't worry about it, love," father pulls me into his chest, "the king's taste in dolls are surely worse than mine."

I let out a giggle. My father joins in.

I look out the window as we saunter down the hall and turn back to my father when he mutters, "she's changed quite a lot since we've moved here."

He looks at the doll in his hand.

It takes a moment before I smile and give a playful look, "have you seen any of your daughters play with dollies lately, father?"

My words do not work this time. My smile fades at the sight of the line between my father's brows. I mutter softly, "haven't we all changed?"

He turns to me then stops.

I raise my brows. Ned Stark offers me a smile. He takes my hands and shakes his head, "not you, my daughter," he rubs my knuckles with his thumb, "never you."

My heart clenches at his words. I cannot bring myself to smile back because I knew it wasn't true.

"Forgive me for intruding on a private moment."

We both pull away and turn to our side. There we see a blonde doll wrapped in steel. Ser Jaime bows, "Lord Hand, Lady Stark--" he stops himself and lifts his head, "oh, apologies. It's in bad taste for me to call you that."

My father shifts in his spot.

I play it off, "nonsense. I am born of house Stark," I pull my lips into a tight smile, "and my husband is dead."

"Ah, yes," the knight sighs, "poor man. Just had a taste of being one then--" he shakes his head to make his point. He raises a finger, "he was your age, wasn't he?"

I clench my jaw and nod.

Ser Jaime rests a hand on his hilt, "what was his house again?"

Before I can respond, my father blurts, "have you come to rub salt in my daughter's wounds, Kingslayer?"

I turn to my feet with wide eyes. I slowly turn to the see the fuming look on my father's face and whisper, "papa."

Ser Jaime lifts his nose. An smirk masks his face, "not at all, my Lord."

I look back at the kingsguard, not enjoying how quickly tension solidified between us.

"The king demands your presence," growls the Lannister, jaw hardened, golden mane wafting with the breeze.

Father's face is stern but he nods and raises the doll, "I will go to him after I-"

"Get that bloody Ned here now," Jaime speaks. He watches Ned lower the doll. He purses his lips while father's expression sours even more. He shrugs, "King's words, not mine."

In an instant, all the tension in father's body is gone. He looks like he's about to smile and it makes my stomach churn because I knew what that meant. I take the doll from him before anything else. He looks at me and I nod, "I'll give it to Sansa."

He stares me blankly.

"I'll try to force her affection onto the thing," I look at the doll, "maybe she'll let it chaperone us to the tourney later."

I smile at the sound of papa's low laugh.

He nods.

Ned's smile fades when he turns back to Jaime. Jaime gives a wry smile, "I'll escort the lady back to her chambers in her father's stead."

Neither of us decide to argue over it.

Father walks off, eyeing Jaime as he did, and I purse my lips when I turn to him, "I'm actually headed to the library."

"Mmm," he furrows his brows, "then I'm actually headed there too."

We begin to walk down the hall. I laugh as I look at the doll in my hands.

Jaime turns to me upon hearing this. He decides not to note on the ugly doll, "like reading, do you?"

I look at him and smile, "I do."

"You sure you don't go to that musty room to hide from everyone?"

I raise a brow, "you seem to have experience."

"Tyrion was like that," he looks forward, "except father never bought him a doll as a companion."

I look away just as Jaime looks back at me, "does the library match the fantasies of a book lover?"

I chuckle. I turn to his side again. I am unable to stop myself from thinking how dashing his grin at the moment was, "It definitely is as grand as I expected it to be. Winterfell is not blessed with nearly as many tomes."

"The younger Stark girls must not like reading as much as their big sister, considering the ugly thing in your paw," he nods at my direction.

"I'm sure one of them will find use of it," I lift the thing up and look at it. I glance upon Jaime, "oh, goodness. It actually looks quite like you."

Jaime pulls his chin back, "you clearly have issues with your eyes."

"No, it's uncanny. Yellow hair, evil intent."

"Evil intent?" Jaime stops in his tracks, "you mock and slander me," he raises brow and grips his hilt, "I should have your tongue for it."

"Mmm," I turn to him and slowly walk backward, "kingsguard takes the tongue of the Lord Hand's daughter? Sounds like a page out of my books."

He tilts his head, looking me up and down before chuckling as he turns to his feet. He lick his teeth then furrows his brows, "lend me that book once you're done."

We reach the stairwell the connected to the gardens.

I tilt my head and stop in my tracks when I see Sansa and her handmaiden.

"Sansa!" I call, waving at her. She looks at me and waves back.

I turn to Jaime and curtsy, "I have changed my mind, ser," I rise and smile, "I'll be joining my sister in the gardens instead."

Jaime nods and gives a lopsided smile, "very well, my lady. Bid my greetings to the pup. I pray she doesn't get a heart attack from your father's gift."

I chuckle, "she used to have a wolf, you know."

With that, Jaime and I part ways.

Sansa immediately grabs my arm once I am close enough, "what were you doing with Jaime?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister," I correct her, raising a brow, "I didn't know you two were familiar."

"Was he courting you?" Sansa asks as she releases my arm.

I immediately shush her, "do not speak of such things, girl. You know how quickly gossip spreads here." I hand her the doll, "he was escorting me to the library in father's stead."

"This isn't the library-"

"Clearly not."

She takes the doll, "what is this?"

"A gift from father," I grin, "a chaperone to the tourney later."

Sansa glares at me, nearly turning red as her hair. She chucks the doll to the ground and storms away.

I huff and pick up the doll, "Sansa." I follow after her, "it was a joke."

"I haven't played with dollies for years!"

"I know," I rush up to her and grab her arm, "papa bought it for you to try and ease your worries."

She grits her teeth and corrects, "father should just do his job and stop treating me like a little girl." She breaks away from me and moves past me.

"You are a little girl."

"I'm going to be queen one day," she turns to me, "and you won't be able to make fun of me then."

"Sansa, I'm not making fun of you!"

Sansa does not listen and simply walks away.

Her old handmaiden turns to me and smiles. She takes the doll from me, "I'll put this in her room."

I nod and smile.

By the time we were seated for the tourney, Sansa and I made peace by giving the doll to Arya for her to mutilate. All three of us enjoyed the bonding experience very much.

Right now, we were huddled together, pointing at the players. Sansa whispered to me who she thought handsomest and Arya exclaimed over who she thought was strongest. I alternate my attention between them, swooning with one, cheering with the other, but it doesn't take long for them to get into a clash, as always.

They begin to bicker over me and I would have just snapped at them had we not been in public. I instead silence both of them by swooning and cheering for the Hound once we spot him from afar.

Both young Starks gawk at me in disbelief and disgust.

"You can't be serious," Sansa mutters with a pale face.

Arya tilts her head, "I mean, he is pretty big."

I laugh at both of them, "can't I cheer for all the players?"

"No," they say at once.

I tear my gaze from the tourney grounds to look over my shoulder. I gaze upon the crowds, looking to see if father was already here. I mutter to no one in particular, "I wonder what's taking him so long."

"Look," Sansa, on my left, tugs at my arm, "ser Jaime is going to be riding!"

I ignore her and push Arya, who was seated to my right, behind as I crane my neck to look for farther.

Sansa leans on my back and mutters to Arya, "ser Jaime likes her."

Arya grins and looks down at me, "oooh. The lion and the wolf."

I quickly sit up and eye both of them, "shut it, you."

They giggle with each other.

"Father will not be pleased if he hears you are wanting to feed nasty rumors."

"Oh, but nasty rumors are the most intruding, wouldn't you agree, Lady Strong?"

The three of us turn to the man walking over. He stops just below where Arya was sat.

"Or should I say, Lady Stark?" he smiles and nods at me. He looks to my left, "Lady Stark," then to my right, "Lady Stark."

I offer a smile and my first name, "you can simply call me that to avoid confusion, my lord."

"Petyr Baelish," he grins, blue eyes glistening with apparent mischief.

"Lord Baelish," I nod. I squeeze both my sister's hands, prompting both to greet all the same.

Lord Baelish smiles, "I'm glad to finally meet the eldest Stark," he reaches a hand out to me, "the words spoken about your beauty do you no justice."

Both my sisters make a face when I take the man's hand and he leans in to kiss it.

He straightens up and brings his hands behind his back, "my deepest sympathies to you. Lord Harwin Strong left us too soon. I've heard a great many things about Breakbones, how he puts the strong in House Strong."

Arya side eyes Baelish before turning away to look at tourney grounds.

Sansa stares hotly at him as she clutches my arm.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish," I nod and pull a smile, "if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to talk about him more than this."

"Of course," he bows. He tilts his head back as he smiles. He walks off and climbs the stairs to get to his seat just behind us.

"Do you know who's going to fight first?" Arya asks as she leans on my lap. I wrap my arm over her shoulders and turn to where she was looking. I spot Jaime speaking to whom was probably his squire from afar.

"Don't worry, little one, they'll announce it," Baelish speaks from behind, making all of us turn to him then back front. When I look back, I see Jaime looking our way.

"I hope ser Jaime starts on our side," Sansa mutters as she leans into me, though her eyes are still fixed on the Lannister.

Arya turns to me and toys with my black hair, "I hope he defeats the Hound to win your affection."

Baelish makes a face upon hearing that.

I snort at the thought then shoot her a half serious face, "shut it."

"I see you girls are fond of the Kingslayer," Baelish says, making us turn back to him again.

Arya side eyes him once more. Sansa looks away, uninterested.

I respond before turning frotn, "he is a rather good swordsman. Or so I hear."

"He usually doesn't play in tourneys. He says he's too good for them," Baelish mutters, "something must have made him change his mind."

"Maybe he's trying to impress someone," Sansa replies, not bothering to look back anymore, "maybe a lady?"

I squeeze her arm when she says this. She does not even spare me a glance.

"Yes," Baelish darting his eyes below him, "perhaps."

We look to the sky when a rumble suddenly cracks.

"What's taking them so long?! It's going to rain, and then the games will be cancelled!" Arya complains.

"They-"

"They're waiting for the king," Baelish replies.

Arya makes a face. I'm the only one that turns back to the man. I smile at his already smiling face then turn to Arya, "papa's not here either. The king is probably making him do something."

Baelish chuckles under his breath, muttering lowly to himself, "papa? How sweet."

Then suddenly, truly out of nowhere, it began to rain.

My sisters and I quickly stand. I immediately grab them and we run off to the nearest place that could offer cover. We head to a tent, but the trouble was, everyone was heading there too.

The rain quickly begins to pour harder.

I do my best to cover Sansa and Arya's head, but my hands could only do so much. The three of us look up when something comes above us.

I feel someone behind me. I turn and see it's Lord Baelish. He's taken his tunic off and used it to cover us.

"Come, my Lady Starks," he speaks over the loud patter of the rain, "I will escort you back inside!"

We turn to him, his dress shirt now dripping and stuck to his form. I nod at him, "thank you, my lord."

"Don't thank me yet," he smirks, face wet with rain, "one of you may yet slip on mud."

Lord Baelish leads the way, uncaring of how wet he's gotten, and offers his arm out to us intermittently. Meanwhile, we hold up his tunic overhead and huddle under it, treading as quickly yet carefully as we can on the mucky ground.

"I do hope the rain does not ruin your fine garb, Lord Baelish," I call as Sansa and I lift our skirts up and do our best not to trip on it.

Arya was very much glad to be wearing pants, and cheerfully steps into puddles without a care in the world.

But then she slips.

Baelish manages to grab her arm before she falls. He pulls her upright and chuckles, "careful now. You wouldn't want to take your sisters down with you."

Arya let's out a hmp when she is released.

"And don't worry about my tunic," he smiles at me, "I'd rather it be ruined than have 3 ladies get sick under my watch."

Sansa gasps and grabs my arm when her heels sink in the wet dirt. I help her keep her footing and smile back at the man, "thank you, Lord Baelish."

"As I said, don't thank me yet. It's still quite a walk to the Keep," he comes to Sansa's side and helps her straighten up, "and call me Petyr."

I part my lips at the thought.

He shakes his head and chuckles, "I insist."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Zombie Apocalypse: Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen (2)

Part 1

In an alarming blur of white and black, Gojo introduces himself by jumping in front of you from above

“Hi there (Y/n)! It’s a pleasure to meet you! Chu! You’re as gorgeous as your blood tests suggest.”

“Oh, my Plasma. Please stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Yeah, even I thought that sounded freaky.”

“Well (Y/n) something you’ll find about me is that I’m a freaky guy~”

“Please stop.”

Meeting the eccentric head of the fortress puts you in a spin

Dragging you to dinner and then to some of the activities the fortress has

With a blindfold that occasionally lifts to show striking blue eyes 

You nearly forget to ask the question that introduced him in the first place

“Hey Gojo?”

“Yes, Cutie-pie?”

“Uh…can I get clearance to see the other survivors.”

He gets real quiet 

his smile fades a little but not enough to mean anything

“Why Star-face? I thought you liked all of us over here?”

“I do. I just want to see my group. It’s only been a day but–”

He puts a finger on your mouth not exactly in a shushing motion

But he ushers you away from Yuuji and Megumi who were fighting over a painting

Taking you farther away from all the other members of the fortress he leads you up some stairs

Finally reaching the roof of one of the buildings you can see the other half 

A less developed place

The homes are close, filled with people, and it’s a lot less lit than the areas you’ve been

“That’s where the other survivors go…you want to go down there?”

You hesitate but not for long

“Yeah if my group is there I think we should be together.”

He sighs running a hand through his white hair before taking off his blindfold

Now you can see the way his light eyes dart over the people below 

He laughs 

“That man…with the purple vest pushed a pregnant woman into the horde when they were cornered.”

He doesn’t look at your horrified expression 

Only pointing out a few others who’ve committed something awful

“Why do you let them stay here then? If they did these horrible things?”

“Because they came with those who need us. But too many of them practically kill themselves if they get too far away. It’s like the way parasites shape the brains of their hosts.”

You didn’t like the implication

“Gojo…why do I have the yellow wristband? And why was I separated from my group?”

He pulled you into his chest rubbing his fingers into your side

“Bug, think of it as us intervening before the Parasite gets their final claws in you. Your special and perfect for saving.”

“Wait but my group isn’t–”

“Hush, love. I’m sure you're tired. Today has been a long day for you.”

He ignores any protests from you and only gushes about what you’ll do tomorrow

You stop trying because you are tired 

Letting him lead you back to your room in the tower above the fortress

“Have a fun time, you two?”

“We had a great time!”

He kisses the black-haired scientist before helping himself into your room

He goes through your closets, the bathroom, and your bag still ranting about nonsense you don’t understand

Suguru gives a comforting pat on the back

he gives you a clean version of your pajamas before bidding you goodnight

“C’mon Satoru you’ll get to bother (Y/n) tomorrow.”

“That’s right and I don’t even have work tomorrow so I’ll be with you allll day!”

“Alright, out mister. Goodnight (Y/n) we’ll tell the kids you said so too.”

“Uh, goodnight.”

When the door finally closes you’re able to think about what he said

And then you fall asleep 

Maybe he’s got a point

“So how’d it go?”

“They were asking about the wristband.”

“The whole time?”

“Only at the end, made up somethin’ about parasites.”

“Oh, their friends? I hope you didn’t suggest they were in that town.”

“Eh-I dunno! Can’t you make up something about them being immune?”

“Maybe but it’s going to be hard convincing them.”

“Who cares? We got ‘em now, right? I’d say we try whatever we want.”

“You’re right we do got ‘em.”

They’ll just have to accept whatever we say