#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.

[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,”

[aurrorraaaa]

Nightmare

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Why the hell did you do that!? Are you stupid woman!?!” He said angrily as he tried using his rct, but it didn’t stop the bleeding.

You smiled, weakly cradling his cheek with your hand as you laid in his arms, “I-isn’t it obvious?...because I love you kuna,”

Your vision was blurry but you saw the red blood covering his clothes. As your vision cleared, you could see his scrunched up face, he was crying. “Stop. Stop fucking talking.”

“S-sukuna. It won’t work..I-I won’t—“

“No, no. Stop saying stupid things. You’re going to be fine, ‘m gonna fix you up ok? Just stay with me woman. Keep your eyes on me, don’t close ‘em.”

He continued trying to stop the bleeding but it didn’t slow down at all.

You were slowly getting colder and colder and your heart beat was slowing. You didn't have long.

You could feel him shaking. He was holding you so close, whispering things to you but you couldn’t hear. Your hearing was fading too.

You tried to hold his cheek again, but he held it with his own hand, kissing your palm. He looked at you, eyes puffy and red.

He leaned down to kiss your lips, you kissed back as much as you could, but it was getting harder and harder to stay awake.

As he pulled away, your vision got worse, your heart beat even slower and slower.

“it was supposed to be me.. please, no, Y/N, please d-don’t leave me..”

His voice was so sad. It hurt so bad to see him cry over you. You wanted to tell him how much you loved him, you wanted to comfort him and tell him that everything was going to be ok, yet you couldn’t. You were too weak.

“K-keep your eyes open, for fucks sake! PLEASE! Please don’t—“

But soon enough, it went black. Your heart stopped beating and the last thing you heard was a gut wrenching scream from the man you loved.

*******************************************************

Suddenly he jolted up, stream of tears covered his face. He was shaking and quickly looked to his side only to find you sleeping peacefully

He gently shook you, making you stir. You opened your eyes and saw the tears rolling down his cheeks. You immediately sat up, hugging him tightly.

He held onto you, crying into your neck.

He mumbled, saying something along the lines of you dying and him begging you to stay.

You rubbed his back, comforting him. You felt his grip on your waist tighten as you did this.

“Hey, hey, shhhhh.. it’s ok..I’m here. Everything is ok darling.”

He pulled away to look at you, wiping his tears, he cupped your face and looked into your eyes. He was so relieved. He pulled you into a deep passionate kiss. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to wake up to a world without you.

You kissed back, feeling his lips move against yours. His lips were soft, they were wet from his tears but you didn't mind.

As you pulled away, you held his face. He grabbed your hands and placed them on his cheeks. He nuzzled your hand.

"Don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise my love, cmon let’s go back to sleep, kay?”

You gave him a soft smile and another peck on his lips before going back to sleep. He cuddled up against you and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, he was still holding onto you as if you would slip away. You smiled softly at him and gently rubbed his head.

His eyes fluttered open and looked up to you. He kissed your cheek and got up.

"Morning sleepy head." You chuckled.

He didn't reply and instead, gave you a soft smile. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how exhausted he looked.

You stood up, grabbing his hand and walking him to the bathroom. You prepared the bath and got into the tub together. “Kuna lay against me, let me wash your hair.”

Reluctantly, he fit himself in between your legs and laid his head against you chest. You grabbed the shampoo and started running it through his hair, lathering it over his scalp and massaging his head. He never showed weakness but when he was with you, he was a completely different person. He felt so incredibly loved right now. he felt like he was on cloud nine. You spent a good 7 minutes rinsing his hair and kissing his back, you swear you saw him almost cry again because of how affectionate and gentle you were being with him. Never in his life has he ever experienced this, he was always treated harshly by the people around him eventually making him become the “monster” he is today. Yet even with all his flaws, you loved him.

You grabbed the body soap and washed him, paying extra attention to his tattoos and scars.

Once he was all clean, you hopped out of the tub and handed him a towel, while you wrapped one around yourself.

You both got dressed and brushed your teeth.

He walked over to you and placed his hands on your hips.

You smiled and asked him if he wanted to stay in today and watch movies. He agreed, kissing your forehead and going to the kitchen.

After making breakfast, he made his way to the couch where you were seated and sat next to you.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

"Are you feeling better?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry you had to see that." He said quietly.

"It's alright, just know that you can talk to me." You gave him a soft smile and peck on his cheek, making him blush slightly.

He turned on the TV and put on a random movie.

You were so cute, the way you would laugh and hide your face, the way your eyes lit up at the screen. You were absolutely adorable. He couldn't help but smile, which was rare.

Throughout the entire movie, you and Sukuna cuddled and ate popcorn.

He loved every second of it.

It was night already when the movie finished. He stretched and got up.

"Thank you again, princess." He said softly, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a cup of water.

"Anything for you my love. Now go get some rest, you need it." You smiled and stood up.

You hugged him and told him goodnight, before walking to your bedroom.

You flopped onto the bed and got comfy, pulling the covers over your body.

A few moments later, the door opened and the bed dipped as sukuna got in next to you.

"Is everything ok?" You asked him, turning to face him.

He simply nodded and pulled you closer.

He was being oddly affectionate tonight. But it was nice, he was a big softie.

"Thank you for putting up with me, princess." He whispered.

You chuckled, "it's not hard. You're easy to deal with, well, sometimes. I love you, even when you're a pain in the ass."

You could've sworn you heard him let out a little laugh, but maybe you were imagining things.

"I love you too, my little one." He said, pulling you close.

He rested his chin on the top of your head and played with your hair.

You nuzzled into his chest, breathing in his scent.

"Goodnight, kuna."

"Sleep well, angel."

And with that, the two of you fell asleep, knowing no matter what happened, you'd always be there for each other.

a/n: I tried writing angst but i literally couldn’t like I need to write happy endings yall💔💔💔💔💔💔 omg i just realized how out of character I write sukuna 😭 whatevez

[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

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟴: 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗽𝘂𝘀𝘀𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: if lando achieved a podium at silverstone, you promised you’d give him anything he wants. he thinks about it the whole race weekend, and when the two of you are celebrating his second-place finish, he tells you that he wants to take care of you. you’re disbelieving–he takes care of you every waking hour. lando, on the other hand, said that with his chest. and he’ll prove it to you. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. service top lando. shy/self-conscious!reader. mention of multiple orgasms. mention of vaginal sex. face-riding/sitting. lando is a munch & simp. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴:  lando norris x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: drabble. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: lotus flower bomb • wale ft. miguel

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: different type of smut? idk testing out the vibes with this one—yes, this man has one goal this fic and it’s all about you. which i guess is why it edges more into general worship? and not exclusively pussy worship. made myself mad writing this because no man like this exists, me thinks. have fun shawty mamas :)

do you want to be added to my general taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

lando pulls your body completely against his, chest to chest as you straddle his lap. he tenderly holds the nape of your neck, using his large hand to coax your head backwards. he leans forward to kiss you but pauses at the last second, and smiles at your body language. as soon as his hand gently tangled into your hair, your eyes fluttered shut and your lips pursed in anticipation for a kiss. instead of pressing your lips together like expected, lando kisses you softly on the forehead. you open your eyes halfway in question, and lando beats you to speaking.

“let me,” lando murmurs, his warm eyes gazing at you lovingly, “you said you’d give me anything i want—so, let me take it.”

he watches the astonished look in your eyes fade into a bashful avoidance of eye contact. he pets at your scalp gently, charmed at how you still shy away when you deem his devotion too intense. lando doesn’t understand why you don’t believe that he actually wants to take care of you, why he wants to love you thoroughly. his brain sings in satisfaction every time he makes you satisfied. you’re his soulmate; you’ve become each other’s rock, he’s not sure if he’d manage to withstand the extreme pressure of his life without you. so, of course when you offer yourself to him in exchange for his home race podium finish, he’s going to take advantage of that—and provide you with pleasure, solely. 

lando allows you to hide, but continues to press sweet kisses around your face. he drags his lips from your forehead, to your cheeks, to your brow bone, to your eyelids, to your nose, reveling in the heat that rises to your brown skin at his attention. he kisses you properly when he feels the tension coiled within your muscles dissipate. the slick sound of your lips meeting rings in the brit’s ears, and he moans into your mouth when he feels your manicured nails dig into his shoulders. lando captures your bottom lip between his teeth and nips teasingly; he wants your lips even plumper than they already are, he wants them to swell from his passionate onslaught. when his tongue sneaks past the seam of your lips as they part around a moan, his kisses deepen. his free hand cups your ass and drags you closer to him—there should be no space between your bodies. he’s become lost under the weight of his own kisses and swallows down every keening moan, whimper, and whine that you breathe into his mouth. he wouldn’t mind if this is as far as he took it tonight, sharing kisses like these quiets his urge to move along. you, however, care little for lando’s content; you begin to circle your hips down onto him in tight, almost unnoticeable grinds. he breaks the kiss to sigh shakily, and fulfills the question he knows you’re not going to vocalize.

“pretty girl,” lando hums at the sight of your already disheveled appearance, you look fucked out. “hmm, you want more, love? yeah, you do—c’mere and ride my face, pretty.” lando chuckles at the way you freeze at his request, and how you choke on your own breath. you’ve been bare on top of him the whole time and unconsciously started searching for more friction from his boxer-clad erection, and you clam up at the idea of grinding on his tongue—like he’s never eaten you out before.

lando doesn’t allow you any time to protest and shrugs off the shirt he’s wearing, tossing it to some random spot on the floor. he relaxes back, lying flat and rests both of his hands on your hips. he watches how your pupils blow, irises shrinking away at your arousal—he’s not going to interrupt you, and gives you ample time to bask in the sight of his toned torso. a handful of seconds pass before your eyes flick upwards to meet his own, and he sees how you automatically hide away from his stare. there’s no need to attempt to hide from him, he knows your intricacies forward and back. lando dismisses your behavior, and bodily lifts you to hover over his mouth. 

he pretends to miss your scandalized cry of his name at the sudden manhandling, and sucks marks into your inner thigh, slowly moving closer and closer to your core. lando presses a final kiss where your navel meets your cunt, and pauses to stare up at you, waiting for your permission. for the first time tonight, you hold eye-contact with him and softly whisper for him to continue, and lando smiles tenderly at the first hint of confidence that leaks into your tone.

building a strong neck is good for his day job, but lando especially appreciates his strengthened neck for this activity alone—he can feast on you without a single complaint concerning cramping or exhaustion. he messily brandishes his tongue through your lips, his moan of delight at your taste vibrating through your most sensitive area. his tongue forms tight circles and flicks against your clit, and he pauses randomly to slurp lewdly against your entrance to make sure he’s not missing any of your essence. lando whimpers depravedly when he feels your hips start to press down on his mouth, rocking against his tongue to direct him where you want—and his eyes flutter shut in pleasure. 

lando will make you come once like this and the resulting dopamine spike will cause your shyness to evaporate. you’ll start riding his face like he wants you to, leading to another orgasm. his goatee will be soaked with your arousal and lando will not care. then, he’ll make you cum once more from his fingers alone—you’ve always had a thing for his hands—and depending on how sensitive you are, lando might make you spray your release all over the fresh bed sheets. he’ll allow himself to fuck you slowly to another orgasm, that coasts over your body smoothly. and when he deems that he’s satisfied his desire of taking care of you, he’s going to paint your thighs white with his release. of course, his pleasure comes second to yours. he has the whole night to worship you, and he doesn’t see his devotion for you faltering any time soon.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

[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.

[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.”

[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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[warping-realities]

A Night in the Devil's Den - Part III

Fred was just stepping out of the bathroom next to the main stage when he witnessed Mark's transformation firsthand.

He was still dumbfounded, trying to come up with excuses for what he saw—it must have been some kind of light trick, but Mark wasn’t the type to pull a stunt like that. That was more Jamie's style; maybe he convinced Mark to get into this. Yeah, it had to be something like that, he thought, coming up with justifications as he decided to head back to the bar to look for his friends and get an explanation for all this. Just as he was about to take his first step, someone spoke to him.

“It could have been you! But now another kind of life awaits you.” Turning around quickly, Fred found himself face to face with the club’s bouncer, who was smiling enigmatically at him.

Not wanting to get into trouble and fighting the curiosity to ask the man what the hell he meant, Fred continued on his way. Halfway to the bar, weaving through the crowd, he spotted the performer Marco, all sweaty, strutting on stage toward the VIP area where the club manager was grinning at him. Finally stopping, he flexed his muscles.

“What a freak show,” Fred thought, but he couldn’t look away. “Why and how did Mark get into this? And how the hell did that transformation happen?” he pondered, diverting his gaze when the two men began kissing passionately, but not before sneaking one last peek and seeing them both looking right at him, smirking as if they knew something he didn’t. Which was probably true. He needed to find those two jerks and get the hell out of there.

As he approached the bar, he got shoved by one of the muscular drunks dominating the place. “Where had all the women gone?” He was sure there had been a ton of them when they arrived. Picking himself up, he realized he somehow ended up behind the bar. A young Latino man in his twenties looked at him, grinning like he knew him.

“There you are, Papi! I’ve been waiting for you all night!”

“What the hell was this?” He didn’t know who this guy was, but there was something in his eyes…

“Jamie?”

“It’s Javi, you’re hurting my feelings, Papi, after you took my ass so hard, you forget my name like that…” The younger guy said, stepping closer while his smile fading.

He needed to get out of there; something was seriously wrong, and he had to leave—now! Without thinking twice, he stood up and bolted.

When he reached the entrance, he once again bumped into the mysterious Mr. Shay, who was caressing and kissing Marco—or was it actually Mark?

Seizing the chance to escape that madhouse, he slipped out the door, breathing a sigh of relief for a moment before running smack into the massive black bouncer, who stared him down as if daring him to leave.

With no way out, he turned back only to find himself facing an even scarier sight. Mr. Shay, this time alone but with those massive horns on display, and Fred was sure the guy didn’t have time to put on any kind of prosthetics. To make matters worse, he heard the man’s voice inside his head.

“Fred, Fred, Freddie, always the weakest, always humiliated, needing to learn to fight with words because no one ever taught you how to use your fists. But does it have to be this way? Let me show you another option, Freddie; if you refuse to accept it, you can walk out that door, and no one will stop you, not even Hank out there, though I think he’ll be disappointed; he seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“That offends me, Freddie; I always give my clients a choice. You should know that from all the stories going around about me, most of them lies, but this one’s true. Plus, you don’t have choice.” The demon said as Fred fell into a dark abyss.

The first image he saw was of a blond kid like him talking to a strong, muscular older man.

“… Frank, you have to be strong; our land is surrounded by enemies, the Soviet Union has fallen, and independence will come, but we will always be surrounded by foes.”

… you have to be strong… be strong…

He was strong; by seventeen, he was a prodigy in various forms of combat, including Brazilian jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Krav Maga. He honored his father's request, becoming a man of few words but decisive actions.

… decisive actions… actions….

“Action will unfold at the border, and anyone who dares think it shouldn’t be taken seriously will have to deal with me.”

Lieutenant František Andel of the Czech Republic Army was known for his ruthlessness, always ready for war.

… ready for war… war…

The Russian invasion of Ukraine put all the states previously belonging to the Soviet Union on high alert, and the Czech Republic was one of the first to provide all possible humanitarian and military aid to the country. Frank was sent to ensure the delivery of projectile shipments, although under strict orders not to get involved in the conflict. What he didn’t expect was to meet Bohdan, a young man 15 years his junior, forced by circumstances to serve his country. Bohdan wasn’t like him; he was a sensitive, affectionate kid with a fantastic ass. Against everything he should have done, Frank let himself get involved, only to see the kid taken from him, which made all of Frank’s rage surface, causing him to lose his head and attack the Russians mercilessly in the midst of his despair.

… despair… despair… no mercy…

Frank looked mercilessly at the desperate face of his opponent, more than a year after Bohdan’s death, and he felt nothing—no pleasure, no anger, just a huge void that even the violent underground fights or the booze he downed every night couldn’t fill.

… booze… fill….

“What do you want?” he asked with a serious face while waiting for the owner of the dive fill hiss glass, maybe the seventh or eighth of the night, although deep down he knew that not all the booze in the world would be able to satisfy him.

“I have a job offer for you, a new beginning, new possibilities, maybe new… lover.” The man said with a smile.

The flood of information was so overwhelming that Fred could barely move. Still, with all the effort in the world, he turned and bolted for the door. Only to hear the demon’s voice whisper in his ear. “Unfortunately for you, Fred, my deal was made with Jamie; you were never my client.” Then with a single step, that torrent of information flooded his mind once more, with many more scenes and memories, as his body expanded, muscles piling on, covered by the black security uniform, and his young face aged a decade and a half until it became a tribute to rugged masculinity, and František found himself in front of his boss back inside the club.

“Called for me, boss?”

“Yes, Frank, Poncho came to talk to me about your relationship with his nephew. As antiquated as it may be, he wants to know what your intentions are with the kid. And since the man has been with me for centuries, I can’t ignore his concerns.”

“He doesn’t need to worry, boss; I have the best intentions for his nephew.”

“As the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe in hell. Hell is in our heads, and I’ve already lived mine, and I won’t miss the chance to find happiness before another hell comes.”

“How can you say you don’t believe in hell while working here, working for me?”

“Honestly, sir, if this is hell and you really are the devil, which I don’t think you are, I wouldn’t mind spending eternity here!”

“You flatter me, Frank! Now go find Poncho and calm his heart before you replace Hank; he’s itching for some fun.”

Frank walked through the club with all the confidence of someone who knew a single word from him could end any trouble, although deep down he longed for the chance for a good fight.

When he arrived at the bar, he didn’t find Poncho, but standing at the door leading to a secret room was Javier, looking at him with a seductive gaze.

“Did I do something wrong, Papi, for you to ignore me like this?”

“I’m not ignoring you, kid; I just had to sort out an urgent issue, and besides, your uncle was around. He was complaining to the boss, so I need to find him to talk about my intentions with you.”

“And what intentions are those, Papi?”

“The most serious ones possible, Javi.”

“How boring, Papi, because right now all I wanna do is have some fun.” The younger guy said, turning and swaying his hips seductively into the room, and Frank couldn’t resist following him inside with a smile on his face.

The two were wrapped up after some wild sex in the mirrored room overlooking the dance floor and stage of the club that the boss liked to use sometimes to feel like everyone was watching him while he pulled off the most unimaginable acts of depravity, although those on the other side couldn’t actually see anything through the glass.

“We need to go; our break is almost over, and I still haven’t talked to your uncle.” Frank said, getting up and pulling the smaller man close.

“Just one more kiss, Papi!” Javier said, attacking the bigger man with a passionate kiss until they were interrupted.

“I thought you were going to talk to Poncho, Frank. Instead, you came to deflower his nephew.” The boss commented, smiling, accompanied by the Italian porn star who was one of his regular partners.

“Sorry, boss, I didn’t find Poncho, so…”

“… so you decided to use my room to satisfy your carnal needs.”

“Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”

“Certainly not, because next time I’ll be joining you.” The man said, grinning. “Now go; Hank is gonna lose the little hair he has left if you don’t replace him soon. But Javi stays; Marco and I are gonna play a little. I hope there’s no problem with that.”

“No, sir, Javi can play with whoever he wants, as long as he knows the serious stuff is only with me. But I gotta say, after the speech you made about me needing to talk to Poncho…”

“Ahhh, hypocrisy is one of the perks of being the devil, my dear.” The boss replied with a mischievous smile.

….

“I see you didn’t waste any time.” Frank commented as he saw Hank approaching, wearing shorts and loafers instead of the uniform pants and boots.

“I gotta be quick before all the good ones are taken. You already put your paws on Poncho’s nephew, and I’m not crazy enough to try anything with the boss’s Italian. Though maybe I shouldn’t worry too much.”

“Why not?”

“Take a look at who’s coming over there.” Hank said, nodding toward a group of three young guys who were smiling as they walked toward them at the front of the line.

“Jerome’s group?” Frank asked.

“Jerome’s group.” Hank replied, grinning. “Hope you manage to catch at least some of the fun.”

“Oh, I’ll find a way. I’ll see you inside.” He replied before strutting confidently toward the boys.

“Hey, fellas, what do you want here?” he asked, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

“Good night, sir! Jerome told us to go straight to the bouncer at the main door and said that he hopes… that he hopes you… you have a… a hell of a night.” One of the braver kids said, or maybe just the most daring.

“Jerome, huh? IDs?”

“Here you go, sir.” One of them said, handing over the IDs he knew were fake, though he still made a point to scrutinize them with a serious look, just to intimidate the boys a little.

“Any problem, sir?”

“Nope, on the contrary, looks like you guys got VIP passes. Jerome must’ve liked you a lot.” He said while fiddling with a walkie-talkie before speaking again. “Jerome’s group is on the way.” He radioed before handing the IDs back to the kids and cracking a smile.

“Boys, looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night!”

[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

[aeliuss]

warnings!: angst, mentions of self hate. hurt comfort.

on days when he cannot discern between his body and his shadow, chan tries to keep away from you for as long as possible.

it's not that he doesn't love you--the opposite actually. sometimes he thinks the dead thing in his chest beats only for you. beats and beats and beats, pumps blood into veins he feels he is unworthy of because how then would he be able to hold you? to kiss you?

but on days like this, he is ashamed.

his knees buckle under the weight of his own existence. how could he hold you, kiss you, when he felt like a mere shell of the man he once was? how could he offer you anything when he struggled to find value in his own existence?

it's crippling. this feeling. this weight. this him.

so when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, he winces. turns away. the dark circles stretch under his eyes like black holes and he's in the same shirt he'd pulled on four days ago and the light that comes in through the crack in the door you just opened is blinding him and he's ashamed.

"what're you doin' here?" it comes out as a croak. he cringes at the sound of it.

but all that comes out of your lips is a small, "baby.."

you say it with so much love but all it does is repulse him. how could you still have love for a rotting carcass? it's the reason he's opted to stay in the dorms rather than your apartment these past few days. he's almost certain the boys had something to do with your presence here now.

"m' fine," he says, turning on the bed, away from the light, from you. he can't really tell the difference.

you close the door behind you, bathing the room in darkness once more. you take a step closer, the floor creaking beneath your weight. chan flinches, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for impact. he wants to disappear into the shadows, to fade away until he no longer exists in your world. to shield you from the festering ugliness inside of him

but when you step forward, towards him, his body reacts, legs opening so you can stand between them.

your hand hesitantly reaches out, fingers brushing against his tense shoulder. he catches it, pushing it away.

"i haven't showered," he mutters, head bowed, unable to meet your eyes.

"chris."

"you should probably leave. this happens all the time, i'm fine." he's telling you to leave but his fingers are clenching around the hem of your t-shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i'm fine."

"chris," you say softly, your voice a tender caress in the dimness of the room. "look at me, baby, please."

he doesn't. can't bare to, so you have to nudge him gently with the palm of your hand, cupping his cheek. his eyes are dark, haunted, and they flick away as soon as they meet your gaze.

"you're not okay," you say, heart aching.

"i'm trying," his voice cracks. "i'm trying to be."

your finger grazes his jaw. "i love you."

and then he's clutching your hips, drawing you close to him, and the tears come like tidal waves. his face is smushed against your stomach, and you hold him, you feel the tremors coursing through his body, the weight of his anguish pressing against you. you don't flinch, don't pull away. instead, you hold him tighter, letting him know that you're there, that you're not going anywhere.

"i love you," you whisper again, your words a soothing melody in the darkness. "i'm here, chris. i'm not ever leaving you."

he clings to you desperately, as if you're the only anchor in a stormy sea. his sobs echo in the quiet room, mingling with the hushed sounds of your reassurances.

on days when he cannot discern between his body and his shadow, chan tries to keep away from you for as long as possible. he doesn't want you to see the ugly he knows is inside of him. but you do anyway. you see the ugly, the part of him he tries so desperatly to hide. you don't flinch. you don't turn away.

in your love, he discovers his own resilience, his capacity to rise from the depths of despair and embrace the light once more. and though the journey may be fraught with obstacles, uncertainties, and moments of darkness, he knows that as long as you're there, holding his hand, he'll never have to face it alone.

[ronearoundblindly]

Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp (My taglists are all jacked up again, so if you are missing from the list and/or want to be tagged, please let me know!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[neowinestainedress]

hello!!!! I'm not sure if you're taking requests rn but I just wanna let this out of me or I'll go insane. I've been watching a lot of diggity haechan fancam and man really know how to hip thrust. It's just that haechan's thighs are so muscular...I-I—just wanna ride it😳😳

w!: unprotected s*x, thigh riding, light degradation, (kinda mean) dom!haechan, two *ss slap and one cl*t slap, rough s*x

a/n: someone: haechan’s thighs—  me: FINALLY SOME GOOD FUCKING FOOD. i’ve written about thigh riding with him already but will it ever be enough? no. ALSO diggity!haechan? supreme haechan, coming second to better than gold!haechan only. also, hard hours are open, and i’ll either write drabbles or blurbs depending on the inspiration (this was supposed to be a blurb and turned out longer than a drabble but yeah… yall know what happens when I write about haechan)

Imagine Haechan sitting on the couch, tired after a long day. He’s so tired he doesn’t even change into his house clothes, still wearing the white blouse and tight black pants, watching the tv because when he got home you were in the shower and he is waiting for you. 

You’re wearing his favourite nightwear when you sit next to him on the couch, kissing him and running your fingers in his hair to welcome him home, but by chance, there’s his favourite movie on tv, and he’s barely paying you attention. So in a second, you’re on top of his thigh, you’ve been thinking about this since he left earlier in the morning, drooling when he walked past you to bid you goodbye, wearing those black pants that wrap his beautiful thighs so perfectly. But now he looks even better, with his black hair crowning his face messily, the white blouse with the sleeves rolled up, showing the veins of his arm, and the first three buttons undone. Your hips start moving on their own, grinding on his thigh that flexes immediately as an innate reflex, you might do this so often that he’s not even fazed anymore. 

But this time he’s tired, even annoyed about some things that went wrong at work, and you distracting him, ignites a fire. 

“What are you doing?” Haechan groans, bouncing his leg, catching you by surprise before he calls your name sternly when you don’t reply right away. 

“What you should be doing instead,” you reply resolutely. “Didn’t even spare me a look.” 

“Oh, I did,” he coos, hand running on your nape to turn you toward him. “I know exactly what you want when you get all dolled up for me.” 

A victory smile curls your lips but it fades as soon as his attention goes back to the screen on the wall. “I fear you’ll have to work for it harder.” 

You groan annoyed, but don’t stop. You honestly don’t care much, the obsession with his thighs is crazy and unhealthy and you’d ride them forever, you’d rather feel his skin than the fabric of his pants, but this will do anyway. 

“Hyuck,” you breathe out when he starts bouncing his leg, it’s a small movement but it makes you shake every time your sensitive clit hits his leg. 

“I’m watching the movie,” he shuts you before a smug grin blooms on his face when you grunt in disappointment. That still doesn’t stop you from rolling your hips on him, and even bravely reaching down to unbuckle his pants. His eyes skim down briefly, but he lets you continue, even if he fakes nonchalance his dick is hard and begging to be freed from his tight clothes. 

“You really can’t fucking listen, uh?” He groans when you struggle pushing his pants down, harshly grabbing your chin and blocking your wrists together. 

“I just wanted to take your pants off, want to feel you,” you try to pout and pity him, it works for now but you know Haechan always has something up his sleeve, so you don’t know what awaits you after. He lets you go, getting rid of his pants only, and roughly lifting you up to put you right where you were before once he’s done. 

“Come on, get off only with that, show me how pathetic you are,” he mocks before pulling you into a messy, wet kiss, slapping your ass to silently tell you to move. Your body reacts naturally, grinding on his muscular thigh, now feeling his smooth skin and not the thick fabric of his clothes. Haechan lets out another groan when you move again, this time to push your clothes down your legs, but doesn’t say anything else, only pushes you down and guides your movements. His attention is still on the movie, but you hear his occasional shaky breaths when your thigh brushes against his throbbing cock, or when you moan louder, and you feel his hand tighten on your hip when you start whimpering his name. 

“Fuck,” you yelp when his hand hits your ass harder than last time. “What was that for?” 

“You’re slowing down,” he says, dark eyes meeting yours, and you know you’re fucked. “You started this, you will finish this. Come on, don’t stop.”

You gulp, nodding weakly before placing your hands on his shoulders. This time you’d be so close to reaching your orgasm, but right when you’re about to, the sound of the tv turns off and the lights flashing in the room stop lighting it up. You freeze on the spot when Haechan groans your name. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, seeing you turned it off by mistake with your knee. You try to act fast to grab the remote and turn it back on but the pleasure is still fogging your brain. 

“Drop it,” Haechan orders, voice low and eyes sternly looking at you. “You want my attention? You’ll have it all.” 

Your lips part but don’t let out a sound, and your eyes snap open when his hand wraps around your neck, rubbing your jaw before reaching your chin and squeezing it. “Ride my thigh and come. Don’t make me waste more time.” 

You don’t hesitate, humping him embarrassingly fast to chase the orgasm that slipped through your fingers. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, “you can’t possibly be so wet just from this,” he mocks when his free hand moves between your legs, not that he needs that to feel your cum dripping out of you, it has been sticking to his thigh since you started, he just wants to mess with you and tease your sensitive spot while watching his skin glisten with your arousal.

“It feels good,” you justify. “And your thighs — fuck, your thighs,” you mumble, head thrown back and lower lip trapped in your teeth when he slaps your clit once. “They’re pretty and thick and feel so good.” 

“Uh, really?” Haechan snickers, throwing his head back because he can’t believe you have no shame. “Maybe I’ll always make you come like this if you like it that much. My thighs only.” 

“Yeah,” you cry out, bouncing and grinding, struggling to keep a rhythm and just wishing to quickly come. “But I also — fuck — I also want you.” 

Haechan chuckles, shaking his head. “Thought my thighs were enough?” He teases, moving your head side by side in a mocking manner as he pouts close to your lips. “Need more?” 

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg as one hand reaches for the back of his head and tangles in his hair. “I — I… oh, fuck,” you cry out when the orgasm washes over you before you can even say anything, hips and legs trembling as you move weakly to ride it before you collapse on him. 

You don’t have time to take your breath that you find yourself with your back on the couch seat, Haechan harshly flipping you over and trapping you underneath him. 

“Greedy, dumb baby, always playing with fire, not caring about what she gets herself into,” he mocks, pushing his sleeves up on his arm before placing you like he wants you with another rough tug. “Look at how wet you are, and all this just for my thighs?” 

You nod, wetting your lips with your tongue, as you stare into his eyes before they skim down, watching him get rid of his underwear. 

“You are a brat, and yet I always give you what you want. What am I gonna do with you?” He groans, shaking his hair out of his face as he leans down, rubbing the head of his cock on your wet pussy. 

“Fuck me?” You ask nicely, blinking your eyes innocently. 

Haechan groans. “Yeah, it’s the only way to teach a lesson, isn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, his dick is into you before you can even formulate a thought in your brain, taking your breath away from the first thrust. 

“Fuck,” you curse, hands wrapping around his arms to hold onto something. His thrusts are hard, hitting you deep with every single stroke. 

Haechan grins when your nails dig into his arms, and your head lolls back, eyes rolled in the back of your head and mouth wide. “Is it too much for you, baby? You don’t like my thighs so much anymore when they help me fuck hard into you?” 

You’d glare at him if you’d have anything coherent running in your brain, but it’s filled with nothing but lust and need. “I can take it,” you still mumble. 

“Oh, I know you can, that’s why you’re my favourite girl,” he hums, grabbing your legs and pushing them as flat as he can — and you can bend — to your chest. Your back arches in response, feeling him even deeper with each precise, hard thrust. 

When his fingers make contact with your clit, your eyes snap open, throat closing for a moment as you feel like you’re slipping farther away from reality. 

“Messy girl,” he taunts. “So wet my fingers are slipping. You planned this all day, didn’t you?” He says, breath uneven as pleasure starts overwhelming him too, your pussy gripping him tight, making it harder to move out of you, your chest heaving while your boobs look so pretty in the lace of your nightwear, and your moans filling his ear. “Couldn’t wait for me to come home to fuck you on the couch after riding my thighs like a needy, desperate thing.” 

You nod swiftly, eyes closed as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. 

“Fuck, then come with me, babe,” he says, pushing you closer with a harsh tug on your hips as his hands wrap around your waist tightly, fucking into you with force. “Gonna fill you up, fuck, just like you like.” 

Your back arches more, while your hands reach for his shoulders to pull him in a heated kiss that seals your orgasms and traps the loud whimpers and moans that are coming out of your mouths. You feel weak and dizzy as he keeps thrusting into you at a quick pace, filling the room with the lewd sounds of his cum spilling out of you, and whispering dirty words to your ear. 

“Fuck babe, you’ll be the death of me,” Haechan huffs, kissing you and caressing your forehead to wipe away the sweat before pulling out of you and pulling you into his arms, trailing kisses on your neck and shoulder. 

You chuckle, turning around to face him, tangling your legs with his. “Was this better than the movie?”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “You know you’re better than the movie, I just like teasing you.”

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[gloomwitchwrites]

We Won't Be Missed

Legolas x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: mild sexual content, fade to black, kissing, sneaking away, flirting, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Dedicated to @firelightinferno

During a celebration in the Woodland Realm, Legolas suggests that the two of you sneak away for some alone time.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Above you, the stars glimmer.

You don’t know how Legolas managed it, but the night sky is there, twinkling through pockets of canopy. Perhaps he sang to the trees, promised them sweet water or fair winds for their leaves to dance in. Whatever he did, they have opened up, revealing the dark sky and silvery bursts of light that break the inky expanse.

Smiling up at the dazzling lights, you twirl gently in a tight circle, the sheer fabric of your dress spinning with you. All around you, your fellow Elves dance by themselves or with a partner. Music plays, and there is gentle, contented laughter everywhere. It is a moment of celebration and of peace.

Warm hands grab hold of your waist but you’re not startled. Instead, you step into it, inhaling. A familiar woodsy scent fills your nostrils and then your lungs. Twisting in said grip, you find a face that you’d know anywhere.

His name hardly leaves your lips before he pulls you close.

“Legolas,” you breathe, voice nearly a sigh.

“My star,” he replies softly.

Heat creeps up your neck to inflame your cheeks. When it comes to public affection, Legolas is not one for boldness. He is typically subdued and reserved, and this singular moment is enough to surprise you.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you compliment, gesturing outward to indicate the room.

Legolas blushes slightly under the praise.

It is true, and he should take pride in what he has accomplished. The large hall is beautifully decorated, hinting toward the oncoming summer that will draw forth warmer weather and the migrations of different creatures. The forest will shift, and new life will emerge. Everything is in bloom. Everything is earthy and rich.

“Your approval is a comfort,” he responds in that soft tone.

You turn to face Legolas completely. “But is my approval the only one you seek?”

The answer is already known to you, but you want to remind him why he’s done all this in the first place. Birthdays are not often celebrated by the Elves because time moves differently. For those who have dwelled for hundreds if not thousands of years, birthdays become insignificant. They are small memories, sometimes completely forgotten.

Yet Legolas decided to celebrate anyway. For his father.

Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, hasn’t celebrated anything since the death of his wife. Since that time, he has been stoic and cold. There has been celebrations and other such occasions, but Thranduil has either been absent or only made a brief appearance.

This party is a surprise. A way for a son to show his father that he cares.

Legolas turns in the direction of the throne, and you follow his gaze.

Thranduil is surrounded by his people. He is talking. Animated. A gentle smile on his face. The raven-haired woman sitting beside him says something, and Thranduil laughs, his smile widening.

You haven’t seen him this expressive in years.

“Do you think I’ve made him happy?”

You turn back to Legolas who gazes upon his father. The middle of his brow is tightly pinched.

“Your father?”

Legolas hesitates and then nods, like he isn’t entirely sure his father is appreciative of his efforts. When you don’t answer, Legolas tears his gaze away from his father and gives it to you. Before you is the man you love seeking validation.

“What do you think?” you ask softly, nodding toward the throne.

Legolas sighs and then glances back at his father. As Legolas watches, his features melt from hardness to peaceful contentment.

“You’ve done well,” you say. “He is happy.”

“He is,” sighs Legolas, a dreamy look on his face.

Smiling, you rest your head against his shoulder. Legolas wraps an arm around your waist and starts to sway to the music. Time passes, the two of you simply moving together, breathing in the essence of the other.

Legolas turns his head slightly, placing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Would you like to slip away?”

You pull back enough to glance up at him. Legolas’ smile is a bit sultry and it immediately warms you everywhere.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask curiously.

“We won’t be missed. We should take advantage of the opportunity.”

Private moments between the two of you have been scarce. Legolas may be your betrothed, but you hardly see him. Duty comes first, and sometimes that doesn’t always include you. A few hours alone would be nice. Perfect.

“I agree,” you answer, and Legolas beams. “Lead the way, my love.”

Legolas’ smile turns into a delighted grin. Sliding your hand into his, he guides you away from the dancing bodies and past the large casks of wine. No one turns to look or to question where the two of you might be off to. There is only your hand in his, and the teasing way he stops to push you into dark corners for chaste kisses before taking off again.

This boldness is new, and you find that you like it. He leads you to his private quarters, the place that will soon by your home. When the door completely shuts, Legolas pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your body like vines.

This time, his kisses are not chaste.

They are liquid heat and from it comes a burst of fire in your chest.

“Legolas,” you murmur, a hint of need in your tone. “My love.”

He only draws back enough to look into your eyes. His eyelids are heavy like he wants to devour you. A stuttering exhale leaves him, and then Legolas is grasping the side of your face, pulling you back to him.

Your bodies are pressed close. Hands roaming.

Elves mate only once. Legolas is it for you. There is to be a ceremony, but that is just a formality. To be skin to skin, to accept him into your body, is your acceptance of him.

Legolas’ hand slips between the delicate folds of fabric to graze over your bare thigh. You inhale sharply and Legolas steals the exhalation, his tongue delving for a taste. Your dress is nothing in his hands, the sheer material bunching as he touches.

“Is this too much?” he asks, voice raspy with need.

You shake your head, fingers digging into his shoulders. “No. I want more.”

Legolas hungrily draws you back to his mouth and your heart hammers in your chest. It is so loud it is all you hear.

To seal the bond, the two of you must become one. To be bare. Open.

The ceremony is only for the people.

“I love you,” murmurs Legolas against your lips. “With all my heart and all the stars in the sky.”

You grin. “And I love you. I never wish to be apart.”

Legolas makes a little purr in his throat. It sounds like contentment. “That will no longer trouble us come the end of summer.”

“Must we wait?” you ask softly. You slide your hands off his shoulders, bringing them to the twisted straps of your dress. You pull on them, drawing them over and down your shoulders. “I do not wish to.”

Legolas’ pale skin flushes before his mind catches up. “I cannot resist when you ask this sweetly.”

“That is why I asked,” you reply, matching his tone.

The dress falls from your body landing in a pool at your feet. His sultry gaze morphs into appreciation. His fingertips lightly trace over your flesh, leaving a trailing heat behind.

“Are you certain?”

“You are my betrothed. It is not wrong to want this.”

Legolas runs the back of his knuckles down your throat and over one breast. He leans forward, and sucks the nipple into his mouth. You moan, arching into him, one hand sliding to the back of his head. His other hand delves between your thighs, and that too twists your stomach into knots.

He brings that nipple to a stiff peak, and then moves to the other, his other hand still moving between your legs. That too springs to life, and then Legolas’ mouth trails further south over your stomach. Lower still to kiss between your thighs.

You gasp. Groan. Shudder as he learns your taste and brings you to an endless sea of stars.

“You are perfect,” he nearly growls, his words drifting upward to caress.

“I am yours,” you gasp out, fingers tangling in his silky hair.

He continues to explore with his tongue, and then he’s standing before you, removing his formal tunic, shedding all this clothes to match your own bareness.

“Let us go to bed,” you murmur, palms pressing against his bare chest.

Legolas’ hands slide to the backs of your thighs. He lifts and you’re locking your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. You cling to him, tasting yourself on him.

The bedsheets are cool against your back.

Legolas nuzzles the side of your face, his lips pressed against your ear as he speaks. “I shall give you no rest.”

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[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."