#that singular moment when they lay eyes on each other

[transingthoseformers]

It would be fucking funny if in mtmte Tarn met Megatron again by complete accident

Like, a lot earlier or later than anticipated, honest to got 0 to 100 situation

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ early morning moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff! jisung's a tiny bit suggestive

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: since i've done late night moments with them, i think it's only fitting i write this as well! enjoyy <33 pls let me know your thoughts by reblogging or leaving a comment <3 (inspired by some of these prompts <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧

You’ve been awake for a while now, snuggling and holding each other close as half of your body was on top of your boyfriend’s, almost latching onto him like a koala bear without shame. And he didn’t mind, Chan never did, content with being glued to you in every situation, hugging you so tightly like he wanted you to morph into one, the same entity kept alive by the beating of a singular heart.

“You fell asleep in the first 20 minutes of the movie last night.” You whisper, drawing random shapes on his exposed pecs, laying in the crook of his neck. Chan makes an apologetic sound before he’s interrupted by a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and letting one fall to curl around your middle. “Sorry, baby. I guess I was pretty tired.”

Tired is an understatement, and you laugh, lazily reaching for your phone on the nightstand to show him exactly what you’re talking about, with him tugging you right back to his chest when you stretch too far. There is a picture of Chan, sitting on the couch with his head thrown back and mouth open, snoring away while the movie he’s been begging you to watch together was rolling in the background.

The laugh he lets out is quieter than usual, the remains of sleep obvious in his half-closed eyes and deeper voice. “Damn, I was out like a light.”

You continue cuddling for a while before agreeing it’s time to start your day, reluctantly separating and sitting up at the end of the bed, adopting the same stance.

He’s still mumbling about something when you notice his hair sticking out in every direction, reaching out to tame the curls before stealing a kiss which only makes your boyfriend want another, and another until twenty minutes have passed and you’re still in bed, snuggling and making out like the world outside your bedroom did not exist.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧

“Minho.” You whisper, tossing and turning under the blanket to face him, peering at his sleeping face. Your boyfriend was on his back, resting peacefully, unaware of the godly beauty he possessed, one people would surely go to war for, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

He doesn’t respond so, you try again. “Minho!” this time, he scrunches his nose cutely and rolls over, away from you and your antics he was too tired to be a victim of this early in the morning.

“Minho, are you awake yet?” You know what they say, third time is the charm because your boyfriend responds instantly, voice loud and clear, the opposite of your soft tone which takes you by complete surprise. “No.”

“Oh, okay.” you whisper, feeling bad for disturbing him. “Sorry.” you almost turn on your side and succumb to slumber before it hits you. Without warning, you swing a leg over his torso before rolling yourself over him to land on the other side of the bed, ignoring all his groans in protest.

“Liar!” You’re nose to nose now and Minho barely gets to open his eyes before you push his shoulder, causing him to fall on his back as you climb to straddle him. You waste no time leaning down and connecting your lips in a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and squeezing affectionately. As much as he wanted to complain, Minho couldn’t help but smile against your lips, body melting into the mattress while one of his veiny hands moved to rest on your exposed thigh, needing to feel more of you.

He should lie more often if this is the reward he gets.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧

“Binnie.” You’re gentle as you brush curly hair strands from his forehead, smiling when he instantly leans into your touch. “My love, I know you’re awake.”

“Then you should also know I hate waking up to an empty bed.” He pouts, eyes still closed stubbornly. With the same fond smile, you roll your eyes, hand dropping down to slowly trace his every feature, knowing he could never resist you.

“I had a good cause, I promise.” When he doesn’t budge, you reach for the tray on the nightstand and place it across his lap, over the blanket, careful his smoothie doesn’t spill over. “I made breakfast.”

Just like magic, his eyes snap open and he sits up so quickly you wonder if he got whiplash that was instantly cured by the smell of his favorite breakfast. His eyes sparkle as his gaze moves back and forth from the tray to you, so touched and grateful as he takes it all in, noticing the effort you put in so early in the morning just to cook a feast and surprise him with breakfast in bed. Nobody’s ever done something like this for him, love him so deeply and openly. Is this what being the luckiest man in the world felt like?

“I love you.” The words stumble out without second thought, eyes misty, forgetting all about being upset and giving you attitude. When you laugh, he does too, carefully leaning over the food to kiss you, the love of his life that adored him in the exact same way he adored you.

Love is the greatest gift he’s ever received and as selfish as it sounds, Changbin hopes you’ll continue loving him this way for the rest of your shared lives, that you’ll always remain by his side. He promises to continue eating your cooking even when you’re both old and grey, impaired taste and all.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧

The early hours of the morning found you in the arms of your beloved, sleeping away, undisturbed by the outside world and its people who were already hurrying around to get to work on time. You won’t be joining them today, nor will the man whose warmth was currently engulfing you whole, creating a safe love bubble you never wanted to burst.

Your face was buried in his chest, the soft material of his t-shirt moving with each breath he took, his heartbeat rocking you to sleep every time your eyes opened to check the time. Old habits die hard, but Hyunjin always manages to calm your racing mind even from dreamland.

Half an hour later, when the sun starts to peek through the drawn curtains, you’re awakened by tiny paws jumping on the bed, breathing and barking loudly. So much for sleeping in. Hyunjin’s eyes open with a smile, arms tightening their hold on your middle as he brings you even closer, resting his chin on top of your head while squeezing tightly. Morning cuddles were a must, even if your boyfriend’s other baby was too impatient to be let out to allow you to enjoy them to the fullest. 

“Good morning, love.” He greets you with a kiss, lingering there for the briefest moment before finally tearing himself from you, giggling down the hallway as he quickly goes to allow Kkami on the terrace.

He comes back rambling about something that happened at a schedule the other day, blinking the sleep away as he hands you a water bottle, yawning here and there. Unfortunately for him, you’re not listening, too distracted by the way his plump lips move and his husky voice, the words going in one ear and out the other as your inner monologue takes over.

“Your morning voice is so hot.” Hyunjin stops mid-sentence, momentarily taken aback before he bursts out laughing, dramatically collapsing back into bed and reaching for your hand to hold. “What?”

You nod, now sitting up against the headboard, eyes still zoned in on his pink and wet lips, enthralled. “Tell me more, baby. What did Chan do?” “He wasn’t even there!” See, not paying attention at all. But who could blame you when your boyfriend couldn’t take the hint and finally kiss you again?

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧

“I had a dream about you.” Jisung perks up from his place on your chest, the TV running idly in the background, showing a random cartoon. “Was I hot?” “You cheated on me.”

He gasps dramatically but doesn’t move, too comfortable as you continue running your fingers through his freshly dyed hair, almost lulling him back to sleep. “Asshole move, dream me. Off with his head!.” 

You chuckle, kissing the top of his head and turning into a puddle once he begins leaving wet kisses on your neck, apologizing or most likely trying to distract you from how he’s been acting in your dream. It was working, because you lost your train of thought a couple of times before managing to speak again, eyes fluttering shut.

“You were very mean, actually.” Jisung hums against your neck, licking the skin before his kisses move downwards, to your collarbones, warm hands holding you down by the waist, touch burning pleasantly through your thin clothing.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He props his head up, chin resting right above your chest as his eyes bore into yours with a familiar intensity. “Please let me make it up for you.”

That’s what he says but ten minutes into making out and caressing each other’s bodies, his head falls tiredly to his previous place on your chest and you’re both out like a light, the warmth and cloudy weather of the early morning casting the spell of sleep on your forms and trapping you in bed for another three hours.

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧

You were not a morning person, it was a well-known fact by everyone in your life. Especially by your boyfriend who usually stayed up to keep you company, talking the hours away and giggling under the blankets until you both passed out just as the moon was retiring for the day.

So, you’re more than perplexed when one very early morning, you feel a warm hand caressing your cheek, followed by soft lips peppering feather-like kisses on every inch of your face, coaxing you awake.

“Baby,” his deep voice calls, barely above a whisper to not scare you, leaving a kiss on the corner of your mouth this time, “wake up, angel.”

You make a face, eyes still closed in protest and make to turn over, away from him until you feel the bed dip and his hand in your hair, massaging the scalp gently. Was Felix trying to wake you up or lull you back to sleep? Pretty sure he was just as confused.

When he leans down again, hovering over your face, your arms spring up and lock at the back of his neck, quickly bringing him down and bumping your noses together. You see his eyes widen, inhaling sharply as he realizes what you’re about to do and dodges your kiss last second, lips landing on his cheekbone instead.

Groggy and grumpy from being woken up this early, you pout, relaxing under his weight as his chest presses yours down. “Kiss me!” Felix chuckles and shakes his head, hands on either side of your head holding him up. “Not until you wake up and join me in the kitchen.” Once he sees you shake your own head and move to try and kiss him again, he adds. “I have a surprise!”

Now why didn’t he say so from the beginning? You release him but he doesn’t move away immediately, smiling from ear to ear before kissing your forehead and scooping you out of bed in one swift movement, strong arms under your knees as he giggles and jogs towards the kitchen, face brightening up when a smile finally graces your features.   

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧

Every single morning, Seungmin was the first to wake up without fail, reaching for you to bring your body to his chest and cuddle until you also did, just laying there since he never wanted you to wake up alone. 

That’s why when you woke up earlier than usual, with his chin resting on your shoulder and hot breath hitting your cheek, you didn’t hesitate to move around and bring the blanket further up your bodies, making sure you were both covered and comfortable among the many pillows.

“Your feet are cold.” But Seungmin doesn’t respond, legs intertwined and body still glued to yours like he never wanted to let go, couldn’t. You sneak a glance over your shoulder and find his eyes closed, long eyelashes kissing the top of his cheeks as he rested, sleeping deeply. For the first time since you’ve known him, Seungmin didn’t smile in greeting as you woke up, still sleeping soundly like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It felt a bit strange, but your heart only grew as you watched him, admiring his side profile and the peaceful look on his face, the furrow between his eyebrows absent as dreamland took care of him.

You never got the chance to do this, wake up first and let your thoughts run wild as you resist the urge to squeeze his cheeks and plant kisses all over his face, love pouring out at a dangerous pace, threatening to suffocate him at any moment. Not like Seungmin would mind, adoring you too much to not allow you to do whatever you pleased.

As careful as you can be, one of your hands trails down and intertwines your fingers, gently bringing your connected hands to your chest as you curl further into him, content with getting more cuddle time, loving every single moment.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” You mumble into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to hide from the obnoxious sunlight that is threatening to take your lover away with the start of a new day.

Jeongin laughs, incredulous. “No way! I’ve had countless roommates and none of them have ever complained about me randomly rambling in my sleep.” He headbutts you affectionately, almost like a cat, and snuggles closer, also bothered by the sun but too lazy to get up and close the curtains he forgot about last night.

“I’m not complaining.” Looking up, you share a breath as you move to plant a small kiss on his nose, smiling when it scrunches up in fake annoyance, knowing your boyfriend loved morning cuddles as much as you did. “I actually think it’s kind of endearing.”

He rolls his eyes, big hand drawing circles on your back under the blanket, soothing you in an attempt to get you both to fall back asleep. Mornings were not his thing, and he really didn’t want to leave you, clingier than usual. The bed was so warm, and you were so soft and smelt so good, how could he ever think about leaving? Not like he’d ever admit it out loud.

“What did I say?” He chooses to entertain you, stretching his whole body before bringing the blanket over your heads and moving his arms to hug you, turning on his side so you’re face to face. You pause, momentarily mesmerized by his beauty, messy hair and puffy eyes only making him look even more adorable in your eyes. Tracing his bottom lip, he puckers them to gently kiss your finger. “I don’t know, I don’t speak gibberish.”

He groans, regretting he asked and hiding his face in his pillow. “You also snore.” “I do not!” 

[bunnyscryptarchived]

pairing: jason todd x reader

summary: jason takes you to his gravesite.

content warning: smut, sex in a cemetery, missionary, a lil angst if you squint

⠀ ͚ ♥︎ —

you thought he was joking when he told you he died before —buried 6 feet deep. you didn't find it funny but let out a few laughs anyway. “yeah, reall funny, frankenstein." until you looked at his face. oh. he was serious.

he didn't want you seeing his grave. shooting the idea down the second you asked but he knew you wouldn't be able to let it go so after a week he finally agreed.

sitting on the grass in front of his headstone, softly caressing the granite. running your fingers across his name. he watches you with tear filled eyes before lowering himself next to you. resting your hand upon his, silence fills the air as you look at his face. he refuses to meet you gaze —eyes locked on the singular rose you placed on top of the tombstone. cupping his cheek to turn his head towards you, he leans in to your touch. pressing a kiss to your palm as a tear escapes his eye.

“i got you now"

panted breaths and clawing fingers. jason's big hands encircled the flesh of your waist, pulling you on to his lap as he kisses you with a possesive urgency. fingers matching that same intensity. he claws at your hair, trailing down to your back. a whimper escaped your lips, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

as it broke, your foreheads rested against each other. a string of saliva connecting from your mouths. your fingers trailing from his neck to his hair, gripping the strands. he takes a sharp intake of breath

“i need you” his voice raspy and filled with desperation.

you look around at your surroundings but his palms on your cheeks bring you back. “now. please, baby." eyes pleading.

you pull him into another kiss full of teeth and tears. his lips move along your face, biting your lip, cheek, and neck as you fumble with his shirt.

choked breaths escaping your throat. hips grinding against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

off off off. he mumbles under his breath as he wastes no time ripping your shirt.

“jason!”

ignoring you, he flips you over. laying his body on top of yours. separating for just a moment to remove his own shirt.

“tell me you love me" his voice just below a whisper.

you reach for him but he moves to interlock your fingers.

“i love you, baby” squeezing his hand.

"tell me you need me." he croaks out.

“i need you, jay." you whimper. “always."

after removing your pants, he removes his own. fitting himself perfectly between your legs.

capturing your lips in a kiss as he positions his cock against your hole.

the feeling of him filling you makes you cry out in ecstasy. jason groans the whole time your tight cunt engulfs him. he rolls his hip slowly. nice and deep. hiking your leg up over his waist.

burying his face in your neck as you hold him. your hands find purchase in his hair, and you grip the dark strands. chanting i love you's in to your skin like a mantra.

sinking his teeth into your skin as he picks up the pace. heavy breath's leaving your lips. eyebrows pinched. one hand leaving a trail of bloodied scratches down his back.

"fuck i love you, jason." you cry out. “jason i love you.” your hand lands to the side of you, gripping the grass. his pelvis grinding hard against you. the tip of his cock hitting something inside that makes your eyes cross and your body tense.

looking to the side, your eyes lock with the angels a top his tombstone. body bouncing with each thrust.

uh uh uh's the only sound you can make. gripping jason tighter, your eyes swelling with tears as they trail down to the middle.

HERE LIES

JASON TODD

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry | Aemond Targaryen

Part One (potentially ??? xoxo - indecision)

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop who could be impliedly understood as ms Alys ;o

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (m receiving), talk of sex, masturbation, bad words, very little dialogue, I wrote this in 2 hours and it is barely edited so it may be shite. guys. please tell me if I've missed a warning, luv u xoxo

Author's note: here's a wee smth while I get my head around part 2 of Infernal Desires! the idea I had for this fic was for a multi-part but idk depends on how we're feeling so there will potentially be a part 2 ;D. kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Whatever pretence was in play, you would be the first to admit that you were tired of it. A loveless marriage was nothing less than what you had expected–a union that was entirely for show and born from the political motives of your families. It was only expected.

You tried to convince yourself that you were content with such an arrangement. It suited your ambitions, meant that you could be left alone to do as you please while quenching the thirst to make your family proud. 

Somehow, despite your hesitance and despite your husband’s ignorance toward you, the one thing that you knew you would never truly hold had become your greatest wish. 

The reality was such that you found yourself longing for affection.

Preferably-of course-your husband’s affection. 

Between the forced smiles put on for expectant eyes, the brush of your shoulders whenever you sat next to each other at the dining hall and the gentle caresses at the small of your back until his touch was hurriedly removed once you were again behind closed doors, you had grown an incessant, consuming desire for the prince you were married to. 

Aemond was a man of great beauty and strength. While many had chastised his singular eye and told tales of his ruthless temper, Aemond had grown to be well respected and the object of many lustful gazes.

Eight months had passed since Aemond became your husband and you, his wife. Eight months of tense silences, lonely nights in a bed you had expected to share and eight months of nothing but false affections that were nothing but a performance.

You had considered yourself a romantic right until you felt the loneliness and realities of this marriage. Your naive desires to feel the throes and excitement of love that you read about were subject to a rude awakening the moment you became disgustingly aware of your husbands lack of it. 

Aside from the night of your wedding, Aemond seemed to avoid your bed as if it would burn his skin. Until two months ago, when you had pushed aside the sting on your pride and all but demanded he spare some time for you. 

Friends had warned you that it was hardly special. But if he was kind enough, as few of their husbands were from time to time, he would give you a chance to experience some of the pleasures of your body.

Aemond was hardly a passionate lover, it had seemed. With instruction to simply lift your skirt, he had you laying with your hips at the foot of the bed where he silently and effortlessly fucked his seed into your womb. It had not yet borne fruit despite his fortnightly visits. 

It was never enough. Your body had eventually begun to crave more. In a very raw and unmistakably physical need to find the release it had been denied for so long. Despite Aemond’s assurance on the first nights of your marriage that neither of you were to have any interest in whores or paramours, words and whispers of the prince’s capabilities had picked up over recent weeks and you came to understand that if only Aemond had wanted to, he could give you exactly what your body desired.

Even if you had the same freedoms as men when it came to taking on lovers outside of your marriage, you couldn’t. Admittedly, you’d developed a taste for luxury - a taste only for your husband. Or at least, the fantasy version of Aemond that you had concocted within your head. 

And when your hand made its way between your thighs in the small hours that followed restless nights, the only thoughts that existed in your mind were those of him. Of all the things you had hoped Aemond would guide you to discover about your bodies. Of all the things that you had read about in the books you’d sneak out to find. 

Sometimes, you wondered if Aemond thought of you while he touched himself. The idea of it often crossed your mind and you had since convinced yourself that you had been driven insane. 

Realistically, you knew that the arrangement you had with Aemond was out of necessity. Nothing more. But you were much like him in certain ways - hungry for what you know you deserve, relentless and cunning. But you had little patience left. 

The moment you had decided to make your worth known to your husband wasn’t one you could place a finger on. It was a gradual thing - as you had gently started shifting your attention past the lovers in your books who no longer calmed your lustful needs. 

You wanted him more fiercely than you had wanted for anything in your lifetime.  

So you gently lowered the neckline of your dresses to highlighted the bump of your collarbone, had your maids do your hair so that it framed your face perfectly while accentuating the shape of your neck. You had soon foregone the paler tones your mother had you wear, colours that announced your purity and innocence. The colours that you wore were deeper, richer and more sultry against the tone of your skin. 

With difficult ignorance of the nervous, shy and pious girl your parents had raised for such a match, you forced yourself to seek out Aemond’s gaze with an extra glint in your eyes. You let your once hesitant touches linger with a newfound confidence that stole your breath away whenever Aemond would escort you to and from the dining hall. On the days Aemond would spare time to walk you through the gardens, you made an effort to speak of more than just the weather. 

At times, you felt uneasy about the act you were putting on. Were the prospect of his affections so important to you that you forced yourself to act so differently? In your mind, being a seductress was never so dishonourable as many made it seem but you had hoped this act would pay off in a matter of a few weeks. 

Your impatience becomes painful when you have every other desire at your beck and call. 

But you were mistaken. If anything, Aemond’s indifference had only grown. And at each hardened glance from your head to toe, at each moment in which he continued to ignore you or look past you, your resolve weakened.  

Aemond could not have found you unattractive - this much you knew as a fact. You knew from the way he used to look at you with a gentle fire in his eye and made sure that your every other need had been taken care of. From the way he clenched his jaw in restraint when you would lay back for him, how his grip on your hips and your thighs left marks on your skin as he fucked into you - even if there was little more than a duty being performed. After all, he was still just a man. 

So despite the fact that your efforts were shaping up to be of no use, you didn’t give up. You started taking breakfast in your chambers, requesting Aemond to join you when he was available, dressed in your softest, prettiest nightgowns instead of having dressed up already. 

You made a show of it, unashamed and brazen. Almost surprisingly, Aemond enjoyed the dark cherry more than you could have hoped. There were subtle changes in the way his eye would linger over the dip of your neck, the way his wordless gaze would follow the deep red that would stain and spill from your lips as you bit into a cherry from the bowl of fruit that you shared.

Your conversations have always been comfortable. Aemond may be a brooding, arrogant hardass sometimes but he was always respectful and kind to his you in the time you shared together as husband and wife. But now he would falter, his words getting caught as he watched you gently sucking off the juice of a cherry from your fingers, humming gently as you glance at him with false nonchalance mixed with your best bedroom eyes. 

And it did drive him insane. Aemond had never seen this side of you, much unlike the quiet, prudish woman he had married. But then again, had he ever truly known you? Either way, you had caught the amusement in his gaze and the way he challenged you wordlessly with a shift of his hips and gentle smirk.

Much to your disappointment, little else changed. Nearly three weeks had passed and Aemond had given you little more than those lingering looks and a few stolen breaths. He had at once withdrawn and become increasingly lacklustre, and when you had even tried asking him about his training with Ser Cole, you received no more than curt, blunt answers at each try. 

It had become too much by the time you had retired to your chambers alone once again. The day had been long and uneventful, Helaena had been by your side for most of it which had been nice but you were in no mood to fake an interest in sifting through the performative duties of a princess. 

In all honesty, it was frustrating. You were starting to wear thin on the constant nagging of absolutely everyone about your lack of a child. It has been almost a year and you have failed to perform your duty as a wife, almost a year and you have not missed a single cycle, almost a year and you haven’t blessed the prince with an heir. 

Because, as a lady whose name you hadn’t cared enough to remember had not-so-gently uttered to you over her dreadful playing of a stringed instrument; what was the point of being his wife if you didn’t bed him well enough to carry his child? 

You had, in truth, been distracted. And the idea of carrying the child of a man who only paid you the necessary courtesies out of politeness and good manners made you feel ill. 

Queen Alicent, although you could tell she was inclined to agree with the lady, had placed a gentle yet firm hand on your bicep to calm the anger that had clearly taken you over. With a glare at the loose-lipped woman, you quickly picked up the handkerchief you’d been attempting to embroider and excused yourself. 

If anyone had noticed your absence from the evening meal, which the Queen had always insisted upon eating together, nobody bothered to say anything. 

Over an hour had passed, tossing around in your bed and your eyes stinging from embarrassment. Why was Aemond so averse to you? Why would he stare at you as if you set his blood on fire in one moment and then glance straight past you in the next? What had you done that convinced him so strongly that you were not even worth trying to be familiar with? 

The gods had surely intended to punish you for something in a past life if they were so adamant to trap you in a marriage with a man who would much rather be anywhere other than with you. 

You may as well be strangers to each other. 

The ache of your anger led you straight out of your own chambers and towards his. You spared Ser Tunsley, the knight standing at your door, a harsh glare and snapped at him to give you your privacy otherwise you’d have him stripped of his cloak. He was a timid one, you noticed, and with a nod he stood back, his eyes staring straight past your shoulder in an attempt not to stare at the thin nightgown that clung to your skin. 

It was an outrageous hour and you were of half a mind in your frustration to thank the gods for the empty hallways. In fact, you noticed the lack of an armoured man at the door to Aemond’s chambers and wondered if maybe the prince was elsewhere. 

You stepped towards the door, curiosity peaked at the sound of shifting, followed by some voices and you hesitated. Frowning, you ran through what you would say if Aemond opened the door - there was nothing that would make sense. 

As you stepped closer to the door, a soft light spilled out and you noticed that it was, in fact, just barely ajar. 

It was unlike Aemond to leave his door open and you were certain he would question you sneaking around the hallways in the small hours, dressed only in underclothes. But you ignored the rational voice at the back of your mind and took silent steps so close to the door that it would be cowardly to back out now. 

You couldn’t hear the voices anymore, ears ringing as you held your breath and gently nudged the door while muttering a silent prayer that it wouldn’t make a sound. 

Shock first. Then fear, anger, desire and an all consuming jealousy as you took a moment to understand what you were seeing.  

Aemond was resting at the end of his bed, naked and resting his weight lazily on one arm, his free hand tangled in the dark hair of a slender woman, just as bare as him, kneeling at his feet and moving her head in an up and down motion. Aemond guided her movements with a firm hand, his head tipped back gently. 

He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You’d never seen him without it–he never let you. His eye was firmly shut and you caught the glint of the sapphire in place of the other that was stolen from him. The movements of his chest were heavy and you could hear him panting gently, lips gently parted. 

You were unable to tear your eyes off of Aemond. He looked more beautiful than you had ever seen him, under the golden hue of the lamps, his body lean and chiselled–each curve and muscle glowing under the lights. You could see his pleasure, in his expression, the tinting of his skin and the way he roughly tugged at the mystery woman’s hair. A couple strands of his own hair, usually pulled away from his face, fell forward and the flush of his cheeks were starkly pink against the silver of his hair. He let out a breathy groan, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear as he opened his eye, dark with lust, and gazed down at the woman that was hunched over his lap. The lewd sounds of her mouth on him almost made you gasp and you thanked the gods that Aemond could not see you. Because you could not move if you tried. 

You couldn’t see anything other than the back of her head, and you were glad of it. Because you knew that seeing her face would have been too much and staying hidden and quiet would have been ten times more difficult. Despite the pressure between your thighs, the uncomfortable slick that you felt against your small clothes and the heat that rushed through you from head to toe, you glared viciously at the back of her head. 

Aemond’s breathing stuttered, a string of curses falling carelessly from his lips while he watched the woman as if he were entirely enchanted by her. Despite the fact that you couldn’t really see what she was doing, so expertly that had him in such a state, the entire thing felt obscene. And you could hear her muffled moans, the wetness and her light gagging when Aemond tightened his hold on her hair and thrusted upwards.

Your cheeks burned and your blood felt like lava coursing through your veins. The intensity of your want for him–as he was right now–made you dizzy and you drew in sharp breaths, careful not to make a sound. Because if he turned his head slightly to the left, just for a second, he would see you. You didn’t want to know the consequences. But nothing  that existed among all of the realm could force you to turn around and leave. 

Aemond’s groans were quiet and deep but they grew slightly louder than before, his breath catching as you could see him grow closer to his peak. Your thighs trembled as you pressed them together, barely thinking about how you would be able to escape after he was done–when he would surely see you watching unashamedly. 

The sounds that Aemond was making sent shockwaves straight to your wetness and as you could see his entire body grow visibly tense, hips jerking as his groans turned strained amongst grunts and whispers of just like that and fuck and—a name. 

It was your name. 

You couldn’t help but gasp, clenching around nothing, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your clit. The woman faltered, much to your satisfaction, and she pulled her head back from him. You couldn’t see past her but her hands remained as they were, biceps moving gently as she continued to touch him. 

“Aemond-” you winced as she said his name, no bother for formality. Her voice was slightly husky and it remained sultry and smooth. “I’m not-”

Your husband’s jaw ticked, squeezing his eye shut and pushing her head down towards his hips again. “I know. Fuck–” he grunted, roughly pushing her further down, cursing as she gagged. She hummed around him. 

Suddenly, the desire in your veins became secondary to the jealousy that burned your lungs and the betrayal that caught in your throat. You knew men were not faithful creatures, and even though part of you had known Aemond had been no different–not with how you have heard the servants speak on a couple occasions–but foolishly, you had hoped that he had been a man of his word. Another naive part of you truly did believe him when he said he would have no other woman. 

Whatever she was doing, however she was doing it and no matter that it was your name that fell from his lips, Aemond was enjoying it. He was praising her–telling her she was his, telling her she was doing so well and letting himself get lost in the pleasure she was giving him. 

It was painful to watch and you cursed your body for yearning so badly for reprieve. You’d become soaked, thighs slick from where you’d dripped down. But you would be damned if you gave in and as Aemond’s hips started jerking, his strained grunts becoming desperate as he chased the peak he was nearing, you pushed yourself away from the door and ran back towards your own chambers. 

The entire scene had seared itself into your brain and you trembled as you shut yourself away in your bedchambers, ignoring whatever questions Ser Tunsley had been asking you. 

Who was that woman? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions that flooded your brain. The emotions that fought for dominance. How had they met? Was she a whore? 

Did they see you? 

Your mind replayed the way he’d groaned your name, unable to help yourself from whimpering at the memory. It didn’t make any sense. Aemond was clearly thinking about you yet he had never so much as spared you more than a heated look - he had never even given you a kiss. 

Aemond had never been so comfortable with you. Not the way he was with her. The way he let her say his name–free of his title, like she was his equal. You had only addressed him without title once, on the night of your wedding. 

You laughed. How silly this all was. 

Despite your arousal, and regardless of your hurt, you were angry. 

How dare he? Did he think so little of you? 

Did he love her? Is that why he never tried for you? 

It was infuriating. And there was little you could do about it. But nonetheless, you saw an opportunity through the tears you scolded yourself for shedding over a man who never gave you what you deserved. 

Aemond would regret it. And he’d learn that his wife was the only woman who could give him what he needs. But for now, you let yourself grieve the Aemond you had led yourself to believe was real. The man who held your hand in his and told you that while he couldn’t be the husband you wanted, he would never disrespect you so much as to let another woman into his bed. 

[babeyun]

fool me three times... ✩ s.jy [m]

synopsis: you've come home late twice this week, and for the third time to be on jake's birthday is not as charming as they say. genre: established relationship, pwp (sigh...), angst/smut/tiny bit of fluff pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!reader word count: 3.3k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, angry?jake, mentions of jay (poor guy). petnames (baby..sir [free me!!!!]), mentions of voyeurism/3way. biting, spitting, a singular slap (below the belt), oral (f.rec), fingering (f.rec), squirting, degrading, no aftercare (but it's fine i promise) listen to: fallin' - dawn, pH-1 ; abyss - dawn ; meddle about - chase atlantic author's note: i wrote this on a whim, and i'm not entirely happy with it (smut is not my forte nor do i love writing it.) i'd originally planned to take one of my ideas out of the vault and write it in advance, but i got slammed with schoolwork. i am so, so tired as i write this note. happy birthday, jaeyun. i love u.

It's twelve-forty-two in the morning.

This is the third time this week that Jake finds himself sitting on the couch, alone in your shared apartment. He's turned all the lights off, legs crossed over one another as he checks his phone for the fifth time. Nothing.

He sighs inwardly, leaning further into the soft cushions of the couch. You'd picked this out together, and it was one of your favorite places to spend time together that wasn't your bedroom. The soft brown suede had seen the two of you in many situations – cuddling under a soft white blanket Jake's mom gave you for Christmas last year. Sharing a bowl of cereal because you were too lazy to get up and make your own, but you gladly stood up and refilled his bowl. Holding hands tightly when a scary scene came on the television, crashing on the couch after dancing around together to Fallin' by Dawn and pH-1.

Kissing like two desperate lovers, unable to even take your clothes off to fully feel each other's skin. This couch had seen you in every position imaginable, the cushion on the far right the usual place for your face if Jake was too excited to make it to the bedroom.

You were so busy these days. You hadn't had a date night in three weeks, hadn't had sex in two…and unfortunately – it's making him a little insane.

Recently…the couch had seen more and more of Jake, alone. Jake sitting alone, popcorn bowl in his lap as he waited for you to come home from work. Jake, laying down while wearing the oversized hoodie you'd worn the day before, engulfed in the soft grapefruit notes of your perfume. Jake, letting Layla up on the couch to snuggle with because he can't feel your warmth at that moment.

Jake, missing you.

He sighs again, flipping his phone over.

12:45AM.

No new messages from you, no missed calls. Just the soft sound of Abyss by Dawn.

Where have you gone? You were his best friend. His best friend wrapped gently in the sheets of his love, filled to the brim with his soft words and loving caresses. You were his best friend, his lover, his everything. He saw himself in you, his whole purpose was you.

"Shh, he's probably asleep." He hears your voice from the other side of the front door, before hearing you try to gently slide your key in the lock. His eyes widened, pressing pause on the song before bolting for the bedroom. He doesn't make it in time, the door opening and his ears picking up on a familiar laugh.

Jay.

"Jongseong, for the love of God." You grit, and Jake watches as the two of you carefully toe off your shoes, loads of bags in your hands as Jay snickers to himself, carefully tiptoeing to the kitchen in the dark. The hallway light illuminates the back of you, and you suddenly stiffen, lifting your head to meet Jake's eyes.

He scoffs inwardly, watching as you try to fumble with the lightswitch in the living room just as he slides into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He locks it, hearing you start an argument with Jay in the kitchen as you shut the front door.

Unfortunately, Jake only stews in his anger. He doesn't know why you're late today, but it seems Jay has your attention more than your boyfriend does. Your boyfriend of three years, pushed to the side the day before (and day of) his birthday for a friend you made through Jake.

Jake flips onto the bed, a frustrated groan from his lips as he hears the two of you rustling around in the kitchen. The fact that you haven't even come to the bedroom to let him know that you're home is even more infuriating, and Jake feels his throat start to burn as he holds back angry tears.

Jake had always been good at setting boundaries and putting feelings first, despite being somewhat of a more logical thinker. You were an incredibly emotional person, hidden behind layers of shitty relationships and hurtful friendships, was your tired heart trying to patch itself up. Jake knew that if it was him that did this – not texting you when he'd be home late, letting you agonize over your whereabouts, coming home with one of your friends in tow and giggling like they had some sort of secret…

You'd make a fucking scene.

But Jake can't bring himself to do that. Even in all his anger, his frustration…his hurt, he can't confront you like that. It's not fair, to either of you (or Jay, but who's talking about that guy right now? Not Jake.)

He takes a deep breath, feeling a tear slip down the side of his face. He wipes it away quickly, only standing up from the bed to unlock the door. He takes your hoodie off, the grapefruit perfume making his chest ache. He knows you could just be planning a surprise for him. He knows that, but his mind can't help but wonder as he pulls back the comforter.

Why three late nights, in one week? Why no messages, why no phone calls? You wouldn't even kiss him hello when you arrived, just a tired smile and a soft hey. Your hair was always in disarray, and he knew it was because you liked to drive with the windows down. He knew that.

Sighing, he slips under the covers, facing away from the door. He hears you laugh loudly, before hearing your soft footsteps make their way to the bedroom. He wipes at his eyes, feeling a few more tears trickle down his fingers as he hears the door open gently.

He doesn't turn to face you, instead choosing to squeeze his eyes shut when he hears you sigh gently.

"I know you're awake." You murmur, but he doesn't respond. He doesn't turn around, choosing to breathe through his mouth to hide the fact that your behavior drove him to tears. You click your tongue, and he hears the zipper of your pants. You're moving around, undressing from the pretty pink blouse and grey slacks he chose for you that morning. 

He pulls the covers up further, covering his bare shoulders before feeling your hand on the back of his neck. Your fingertips are warm, your thumb gently circling his pulse point. "Jake." "What?" He mutters, the bite of his tone not going unnoticed. You sigh, and he peels open one eye to look up at you. "What, Y/N?" He sees your eyes scan his face, before your hand on his neck gives a soft squeeze. "I love you." He doesn't like how quickly the knot in his stomach goes away at your words, or the way you can tell his cheeks and ears are tinging pink. He scoffs, closing his eye and moving from your touch. "I love you, too. Keep it down."

"Mmh." You hum in response, but he feels your hand card through his hair. He huffs, before feeling your lips press gently on his temple. "I miss you, my baby." You say against his skin, and pull away entirely. He hears you open his dresser drawer, and the rustling of his clothing being pulled onto your body. He opens his eyes to see you tug on a random shirt of his, pulling your hair out of the neckline before opening the door. 

"Y/N, where is your butter?!" Jay calls, and you quickly shut the door, scampering down the hall.

He can hear the two of you bickering before you groan frustratedly, and he can hear Jay say he's going to the store. You argue that you don't even really need the butter for the cake, but Jay's words take Jake by surprise.

"Maybe go spend some time with him while I'm out of here. You know, I love you because you're my friend, but you're really dense today. Sometimes your boyfriend just needs you."

You didn't reply, or at least Jake doesn't think you did as he hears the door open and close. He hears you groan, and he's out of bed before he can even realize it. He grabs the hoodie back off the top of the dresser, shoving his head through it before yanking the door open.

"Y/N." He calls from the threshold of the bedroom, and you poke your head out of the kitchen. Your eyes are wide, but he can see how tired you are by the bags under your eyes. You probably took it off during your overtime, you'd been doing that a lot lately.

He sighs, closing the bedroom door behind him as he walks towards the kitchen. You step out, shaking your head. "You can't go in there, Jake. I'm…we…" "I'm just going to get the butter for you." He rolls his eyes, pushing past and looking away from all the stuff on the counter – but not before catching a glimpse of baby blue frosting in a bag. There were egg cartons stacked neatly, and three gallons of milk. Too many bags of flour to count, and Jake opens the freezer to pull out the butter he'd put up there earlier.

He'd gone grocery shopping by himself, because you weren't able to get off work. He wasn't upset about it, but he remembers you liked to freeze the butter until you had to use it. He doesn't remember why, but the habit stuck with him.

Just like all of your other little habits.

Your eyes are wide as he slides it onto the island, before worming back out of the kitchen. He doesn't say anything to you, only slinking past your tired shoulders when you manage to grab his fingers. He stops in his tracks, sighing as you skirt around to face him. He looks down at you, a tense clench in his jaw as he moves his brows in query.

"Don't be mad." You breathe, both your hands now holding his wrist and fingers. Your eyes search his face, finding the anger in the twitch of his brows before he shakes his head. "I'm not. I'm just tired." "I'm tired too, but I'm not looking at you like that." Jake feels his head swim as he takes in the tinge of guilt in your voice. He knows you're trying to do something nice for him, even if you're shitty at keeping secrets. He knows you're not doing anything to hurt him, you just have a horrible way of executing things.

He appreciates you nonetheless, because he knows that you're trying your best. Your schedule is jam-packed – your days are long and frustrating, full of people that need your help constantly, full of you having to make decisions for everyone else.

Jake being someone who values quality time clashed with that. He remembers how he'd squeeze in seeing you during your lunch break when you first started dating, just to have a moment alone. He remembers even waking up early to drive to your old apartment and sit in your bedroom while you got ready for work, just for a chance to give you a good morning kiss.

He made time. You're making time.

"I'm sorry." You speak again, your hands squeezing his arm lightly. "Yeah?" He shakes his head, but you nod quickly, your hands floating to his face.

"I am, I'm sorry. I know I should be–" "Prove it." He cuts you off, his face just inches from yours. Your eyes are glued to his lips, before they flicker up to his. He furrows his eyebrows at you expectantly, your tongue wetting your own lips just slightly. "How?" "You know how." His response is curt, and you swallow hard. "...Can I kiss you?" He doesn't respond, opting to answer physically. His lips press to yours gently, hands snaking around your waist to pull you closer to him. He craved your presence, in any way he could have it. He feels you sigh into his mouth as his fingers slip under your shirt, pinching at the soft skin.

"Bedroom." You mumble against his lips, and he shakes his head. "Right here." His lips move down your jaw, before his teeth catch your earring, tugging it gently. You groan as his hands move under your sweatpants, palming at your ass as you struggle to speak. "Jay-" He growls against your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before running his tongue over it. "I don't give a shit about Jay. We can give him a show if he wants to watch." 

He reconnects your lips, tongue sliding into your mouth as he moves the two of you back to the couch. His fingers push your sweatpants down as the back of your legs hit the cushion, and you look over at the door, seeing it slightly ajar and unlocked. "The door–" "Fuck the door." He groans, tugging your underwear down in one go. He pushes you gently back against the couch before kneeling in front of you, tugging the clothing off your bottom half before yanking you closer to him by your ankle. You yelp before feeling him bite at your inner thigh. "Jake!" "That's for being late on Monday." He mutters, before sinking his teeth into your other thigh, a whimper from your throat catching his attention. "That's for being late on Thursday." "I'm sorry, I was just–" "I don't want to hear it." He interrupts, shrugging. He lowers his head again, watching you brace yourself for the sharp pain of his teeth, smiling to himself before spitting on your pussy. You jolt, but can't say anything as he quickly drags his tongue through your slit. He laps at you like a dog, messily collecting your arousal on his tongue as you breathe heavily.

His nose bumps your clit as he avoids touching it with his tongue entirely, opting to thrust the wet muscle into your hole as you whine his name out desperately. "J-Jake, please, I'm sorry–" He pulls away, his lips and chin covered in your slick as he runs the tips of his cold fingers through your folds. "You know, you could've texted me."

You shudder as his thumb makes contact with your clit, the pressure light as he circles it. "I know, Jakey, I'm–" "Or called. I paid the phone bill, and I got the confirmation email. Your phone works." He interjects, nodding his head as he eases the tip of his middle finger into you, smiling to himself as your head lolls back. "I'm sorry." You breathe out, Jake's finger curling inside you to brush that spot that makes your eyes roll. He only hums in response, feeling you cover his hand in your arousal as he slowly adds another finger, relishing in the wet sound of your pussy against his hand. "You're going to prove it to me, right? Gonna cum all over my hand, right? That's all you're good for, anyway." His tone is condescending, making you clench around his fingers. His eyes widen, before a low chuckle slips through his lips. "You like that? Being nothing but a hole for me to use?" You whimper, hiding your face in your hands as your hips meet Jake's fingers, only for his hand to slip out and land a sharp smack against your clit. You gasp, your legs threatening to close as Jake bullies his shoulders between them, his fingers slipping back into you with practiced ease.

"You can't call, you can't text, and now you can't speak. Forgive me for thinking your brain would work for anything." He rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush at his own words. The two of you had never explored this, only sweet nothings and soft praises expressed between you, even a soft slut thrown in if the night was especially raunchy.

"I'm sorry, Jake, I'm sorry." Your thighs are trembling on his shoulders, and he scoffs against your skin. "Yeah, yeah." 

He lowers his head, lips latching onto your swollen clit. His eyes flutter shut at the taste of you, his knees weak at the idea of having gone so long without it. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he curls his own upwards, the tug of yours making him moan into your wet cunt. Soft gasps of don't stop hitting his ears, and he knows he should be upset at you but it would take an entire army to pry him off you at that moment.

He feels you clamp down on his fingers, your back arching off the couch as he feels your release soak his face and hoodie, dripping down his fingers onto the carpet. He slurps at you eagerly, his fingers overstimulating you as you try to pull him away by his hair. "J-Jake, s'too much…" You trail off, not able to finish your sentence as he tongues at your clit with vigor, your thighs clamping shut around him. "One more, c'mon. One more, show me how sorry you are."

He hears you cry his name out softly, eyes looking up to see your head thrown back against the couch, chest moving up in shallow breaths. He kisses up your stomach, nipping as he moves up, his fingers never slowing their pace as he pushes your shirt up with his free hand, cool fingers palming at your chest. His fingers gently toy with your nipple, a soft groan from you as your thighs start to shake a bit harder.

"You're sorry, right?" He lifts himself to meet your face, your eyes glistening with unshed tears as you nod. "You'll call or text when you're going to be late, right, angel?" "Yes." You whisper as his lips ghost over yours. "Yes, what?" "Yes, sir." Your eyes flutter shut, and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Open."

Your lips part with a pathetic whimper of his name, before he gracefully spits onto your tongue. His lips press to yours quickly, suppressing your moans as his fingers pick up their pace, feeling your release drip all over his hand and the couch. "I love you, okay? I just get worried." His mumbles are soft in comparison to the degrading words he'd said earlier, and you can't bring yourself to speak back as you nod against his lips. You kiss him back slowly, putting all your energy into it. "I'm sorry." "It's okay. Are you okay? Let me get a towel, okay?"

You shake your head, carding your fingers through his hair and holding him close. His fingers slip out of you, a dull ache between your thighs as he taps your knee. "Baby, c'mon." "Please." You murmur against his lips, and he feels a flustered smile taking over as he shakes his head. "Jay'll be back soon–"

"Oh, come on." Jay's voice rings through the air, and Jake looks up to see the guy covering his eyes as he runs into the kitchen. Jake's ears burn in embarrassment, only to feel you tug on the sleeve of his hoodie. "Please, Jakey." "Jay–" "You said you didn't care earlier. Why do you care now?" You pout, canting your hips against the tent in his shorts, watching his eyes flutter shut and his lip tucked between his teeth. "You're so–" "Can you guys please take it elsewhere?" Jay whines from the kitchen, and you snort. Jake sighs inwardly, awkwardly rooting around for your sweatpants before finding them just beneath him, entirely soaked.

"Fuck." He shoves the material up your legs anyway, before wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting you up carefully as Jay peeks out the kitchen. "I assume I'm in here alone for the rest of the night?" You smile at him over Jake's shoulder, "Unless you want to join."

Jake stops, looking over his shoulder at one of his oldest friends. Jay's face looks a bit conflicted, his brows furrowed but cheeks pink with embarrassment. Jake's throat clearing garners the older man's attention, a small smile on Jake's lips.

"You wouldn't say no to your best friend on his birthday, would you?"

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Lizards

Benny x Lu full blurb

Without thinking, because she is twenty four now and has been to the beach and has swam with friends and has lived a life, Lu shucks her dress, her shoes, her slip and dives into the lake, nylon undergarments ruined and only just sufficient to be considered a covering. It’s fine, it’s normal, she comes up to the surface and she knows, somewhere far back in her mind she knows, her chest and its scar is visible but it doesn’t matter. The sun is bright, the water is reflecting so strongly she has to squint and through it all Benny is tossing his hair out of his eyes and laughing between puffs of exertion at treading water. He is laughing at having jumped in, at the fact she went for it, too. It doesn’t matter that her body is on display, as a gruesome curiosity or an incitement to desire.

She is swimming with Benny and it’s all just fine.

It makes the moment so utterly enjoyable Lu feels like all her longing to be out here, to be surrounded by this big vast world— it’s been close to right, very near what she’s needed, it’s just made a little better with him and that’s unfortunate as he lives in Chicago. Benny shouldn’t be in the city, he should be in a sparkling lake with minnows assaulting his feet and diamonds of water caught in his lashes.

They’re laughing at each other, so much so they’re close to drowning, and they don’t have to say why. It’s perfect.

She could count each of his lashes as she swims around him, so close and so circular she’s half minnow herself, Benny’s eyes don’t leave her face and he’s stopped laughing enough to look mildly wary at her antics. She’d like to count his lashes, she realizes, she never really thought of how many there were, distracted perhaps, by his beard at other times.

Back when he had a beard: she knew that about him. Back when she stuffed cardboard into her brassieres: he knew that about her.

She keeps circling him and can’t make any progress on counting his lashes because he begins to laugh again, but it’s short and aggravated and she waits for him to explain it, she knows he will.

“What’re you, half mermaid?” there’s quashed competition in his voice, he’s betrayed at her leaving off their giggle fit to actually swim.

“You sure aren’t.” she laughs back, his neck is almost fully in the water, “Those big strong shoulders can’t hold you up? Am I going to have to tow you to the rock?”

Benny takes the teasing well, his face clears if anything, quick to laugh at himself. “You’ve got an advantage, you come here a lot. I’ve been rottin’ in the city.”

Lu gives an approving nod at his conclusion, it aligns with her own. “Yes, so you’ve gotta fix that. You should come out here more often.”

He doesn’t need to come here. Here with her.

There’s all manner of woods and water and nature just outside his stupid city but that’s not an option somehow, not with the way he’s here with her when he could be in the woods with Jack or out on a boat with Maureen. He chose here, instead.

“Yeah, I should.” Benny just agrees because they don’t have to say all that, say that it feels right and different. It just is for now and they can let it be.

She watches him lay back in the water, floating along with the gentle ripple and his ears are below the water and his eyes are on the big blue sky above them and Lu thinks that’s a perfect idea so she floats back too, staring at the sky they once knew so well, wondering if he misses it like she does- in a way that’s half agony of separation and absolute terror of ever being made to reunite with it.

Bucky doesn’t get that; he’s still flying.

Ida and Gale would still be if their governments weren’t so shit to them.

Jack never wanted to but he’d done it for the country, for his people, because it was right. From how often Benny and Jack see each other, like they’re dosing each other up by sheer proximity, Lu guesses they shared that singular motivation.

She turns her head, one ear clogged and filled with water, her other cheek so far into the lake it’s almost lapping up her one nostril; but she can see Benny floating near her, he has his eyes closed.

He gets it, she thinks, heart so full she could cry from happiness for once.

“-don’t you want to fall asleep like this?” she wants to ask him, says it aloud only because she knows his ears are under the water, his face doesn’t even twitch, his eyelids are smooth without a crease of a squint or a frown around them, his nose is ever so gently upturned and Lu wants to place her hand under his head, keep him like this forever, let him enjoy it like she does, “You could, I’d keep you up, make sure you don’t drown.”

When Benny turns his face to her she blushes hot even in the freshwater lake, he looks like he’s caught her at something she shouldn’t be doing, a chiding look of kindness but it reminds her she shouldn’t be treading water and staring at his face like she loves him. If only he could see himself. He’d understand it then. Anyone would.

It’s Benny. And it’s perfect and before he pulls his head up fully he lets himself sink a little and does a slow lazy flip in the water and she feels him tickle her foot on the way back up.

It’s much the same laying on the toasty flat limestone rocks on the lakeshore. Benny and her, burning their backs on the rock, tender bellies getting scorched by late afternoon sun, underwear drying out as crispy as the grass. He’s got his eyes closed again, lashes fanned out on freckling cheeks. And Lu is watching him once more and thinking how much she’d like to be a couple of lazy lizards with Benny.

She snickers at the thought.

“What’s that?” he hums.

Lu shakes her head, disbelieving that she’s about to embarrass herself like this but at least he still has his eyes closed, “I was thinking that we’re a pair of lizards.” And that she’d like to keep being a lizard with him and have a lizard family.

Benny doesn’t laugh at her, his nose crinkles in a mildly disgusted way but he looks like he’s gotta agree despite it all, she feels so fuzzy by that. “I think my back is gonna stay on the rock when I sit up.”

The clasps of her bra are digging into her spine but, otherwise it’s burning and fabulous and she wants to stay forever. The look on his face, lazily tilted towards hers on the rock with his eyes half masted and open, agrees so eloquently Lu wants to— she doesn’t know. So she settles with reaching out and resting her hand on the browned meat of his pretty shoulder. Benny’s eyes droop further and they chide her ever so gently for the fire it ignites in them both all at once, and Lu would love to be two lizards and stay here forever.

[preciouslandmermaid]

💐💐💐

imagine being a kindergarten teacher who meets reid

maybe its thru JJ, maybe you've got Henry in your class, and she kindly, warmly strikes a friendship with you after Henry moves into 1st grade. and its a little unorthodox but jj and her husband are always willing to help out (when their schedules can allow) with school events and so yeah, you become friends.

and when jj introduces you to her friends/colleagues - there is of course a little bit of an intimidation factor (because hello...they are fbi) but penelope makes you feel so welcome (because of course she does. and you tell her your students would love her. and she offers to teach a tech class and youre like ok they're five but yes let's do it) and morgan shamelessly flirting, and emily being hot and intimidating and then there's reid, quiet, awkward, wont-shake-your-hand reid.

but there's something to it - a mutual nerdiness, perhaps, or how reid doesn't make you feel "stupid" just because you're an elementary school teacher and not a professor at a college (despite the fact that in many places you need a least a master's to teach).

imagine weeks later when you run into reid at the coffee shop. completely random. the sky is gray, uninteresting, and promising rain. he surprises you by remembering your name before there's a shy yet earnest quip when he says he's got an "eidetic memory." and you laugh warmly and spencer thinks its one of the best sounds he's heard all morning.

and it goes slowly from there, but it moves naturally, like a caterpillar forming its chrysalis

(when you tell reid this, somewhere after the 4 month mark since you've long stopped counting individual dates, he says; "did you know the word comes from the greek word 'khrusos' - which means gold - because of the gold color or metallic sheen of some pupae".

and in that moment, that singular moment, you admire the honey-gold tint of his eyes in the late afternoon sun spilling luminescence across the sidewalks and across shiny car windshields and think that you could already see the shape and color of whatever butterfly that was going to burst from its cocoon).

one time you refused to come over his apartment because "the kids used glitter today" and you didn't want to get it all over his place. so he came over instead, and you watched the iridescent sparkles swirl down the bathtub drain together.

imagine spencer reid laying his head in your lap, something heavy and unspoken between you, shaped in the spread of his fingers across your hips, in the erratic pulse of his heart pressing into your shins

the school doesn't celebrate Halloween, but they have an annual "trunk or treat" where people CAN dress up and trick-or-treat out of the trunks of their cars and spencer starts helping you, decorating the trunk with fake cobwebs, and skulls, and eventually diving into convoluted themes that you're not convinced kids aged 5-10 are totally going to get.

"it's jaws." he says, holding a shark head made of paper mache, "you know, the 1975 film? you said we couldn't do slasher horror movies because they're too gory for the kids but i'd argue that this movie stands alone as a great horror film with how Spielberg creates consistent tension throughout the whole film considering we don't see the shark until an hour and twenty-one minutes into the run time."

(the kids don't really get it, it's true. "sharks aren't monsters." they would say, or "sharks aren't scary." or "is this from Baby Shark?" but you and spencer have fun, passing out candy, sharing small looks to each other--so that makes it all worth it).

imagine something soft, sweet, something quiet shared over coffee with spencer. something gentle amidst all the chaos, the heartache, and stress of his day-to-day job.

"I don't know how you do it," you tell him, "seeing the worst of what the world has to offer day in and day out."

his long fingers stroke the underside of your jaw, "i don't know how you manage a room full of fifteen 5 and 6-year-olds." he pulls a face. "especially with the germs."

imagine bringing spencer lunch at the office - earning the knowing, sly looks from his friends and team, knowing you can't hide against a room full of profilers and knowing it doesn't really matter anyways.

:) ok that's all i got. <3

[sickwhispers]

Wait... How did I get here?!!! Anyways while I'm here, the hc you made Abt dandy was very fun to read, can you make a part 2 pls 🥺

Hopefully you accept part 2 requests, btw you can jusr ignore this if you don't want to.

Hehe, hiii. Part 2 requests are completely allowed, don't worry. In fact, I'm flattered that you enjoyed it enough to request a part 2, so thank you for that!

THEY LOVE ME, THEY LOVE ME NOT (pt 2)

Pairing: Dandy x reader

Relationship: romantic (situationship again)

Warnings: I mightve made him yandere coded... woopsie, slightly sadistic

Type: headcanons + drabble

Surely now you understand why he had to do what he did

And, he can't help but find some sense of amusement in the way you nodded your head, eyes wide with a hint of fear behind their glossy look

He's sorry, he doesn't want to be mean

But... sometimes he thinks it's just a little cute how desperate you get when it comes to buying from his shop

"Nwah... I didn't even have to ask you this time! You must really like me, don't ya?" The smile on his face seemed to stretch as you tossed the last remaining tapes you had saved up during the last couple of floors. He never felt the need to ask you after every round anymore. At this point, he was certain you'd hand them over eventually.

He could tell you were nervous. The way your hands shook as you grabbed the medkit from his display of items. You were lucky, yknow. If it was anyone else, he'd only be giving them a couple gumballs and singular chocolate bars. But you? How could he keep all the best stuff hidden?

The others didn't understand him like you did. They had even tried asking you to distance yourself from him at some point. But, you'd never do that to him. He's your friend, and he has been ever since the beginning.

After seeing your reaction to his twisted form, he almost constantly felt the need to show it to you just one more time

To see the way your body froze, a deer in headlights and at the complete mercy of what you could only describe as a grotesque monster made of ichor

But, he also didn't want you to think of him as a monster

He found the way you shook in his presence cute, but that didn't mean he wanted you to shake every time you were in the same room together

Maybe, if he warmed you up to his twisted form more, you'd feel a bit less uncomfortable with the idea of letting him lay on you

Feeling you beneath him as he nuzzled against the top of your head, a claw of his tracing each line on your palm

Seeing you scared was fun, but he was always a fan of the domestic moments

Just having you by his side was enough to keep him happy, your constant presence bringing a comfort like no other

He was never sure why he felt this way

Honestly, the first time he felt it back when everything wasn't in total disaster, he had thought he'd caught some sort of sickness.

But no, he didn't, and it didn't take too long before he really found out why every time he saw you, his body seemed to tense

There was always a need to make you happy, to keep you smiling

So, despite the overwhelming sensation to bare his monstrous form just for you, he found himself opting to hold it back

For now, at least

Until your hands stopped shaking and your smile didn't hold some sort of strain behind its appearance

The glossy eyes were cute, but...

Only then would he try to get you used to the feeling of eyes boring into the back of your head every floor

He didn't want you to think of him like some sadist

Sure, he had some sadistic tendencies

But he's only joking!

No need to worry. He loves you. He'd never want to hurt you

Intentionally, that is

But, until the day he's able to show you the worst possible version of him without the fear of scaring you enough to leave forever

He's fine with pretending like he doesn't want you to shower him with all kinds of affection he could possibly think of

In both his toon form and twisted form

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Dessert Before Dinner

Summary: Tommy catches you sucking on a lollipop and he can’t let that go.

warnings: smut smut smut, incest, oral (female receiving), tommy creaming his pants, inappropriate use of candy, reader is tommy’s sister

The circular, hypnotizing movement of your tongue around the sugared sweet, and the way your lips curled over the tip so innocently retrieved Tommy’s longing stare from across the room.

His cock was hardening in his trousers from the poetic, sensual scene taking place before him.

Your e/c eyes scanned up, staring into his electric blue eyes with profound sexual intent.

No one seemed to notice the building desire, the fire building in Tommy’s crotch.

These were the games you loved to play, every singular day. Tommy all worked up before the family, wanting him to burst at the seams and have his way with you.

He nodded toward the stairs, a sly smirk spread across his lips as he put out his cigarette, the smoke dispelling into the atmosphere before he followed your ‘innocent’ footsteps up to your bedroom, that he was far too familiarized with for a brother.

Closing the door behind him, the cherry sucker sat sweetly between your glossed plump lips as you shed yourself of your robe.

Revealing the smooth, delectable figure of your nude body, leaving your brother breathless. You were a sight for sore eyes.

“Lay down my darling.” You did as he said. His tongue lapped over his lips when you spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt, shining like a golden treasure in the lost sea.

He crawled on his hands and knees, stretching up toward your face between your opened legs. 

He slowly shuffled his arm, popping the lollipop out from your desirable lips, his breath hot against your face, smelling of brimstone and peppermint.

In a moment of silence, you stared at each other with animalistic eyes, his chest resting against your cleavage, his erect, enclosed member pressed tightly against your throbbing pink pussy.

“You know the rules Y/N, no sweets before dinner.” He didn’t remove his pants, instead he trailed the sugary, sticky treat down your throat, riding agonizingly slowly between your heavenly, cushioned breasts, down your naval until he reached his coveted destination.

You were unable to hold back a gasp, your head falling effortlessly to the side of the pillow until his hand pulled your chin back to face him.

He pressed the sucker against your clit, rubbing the sensitive area with the cherry dessert. He watched intently as your eyes fluttered shut, watching the breath hitch in your throat, and your chest rise slowly.

His free hand rested upon your hardened nipple, rolling the sensitive skin between his experienced fingers. “Tommy..” Your voice was heavenly, laced with arousal and desperation for your dear brother.

He dove down like a sweet serenade between your thighs, his lips connecting with your clit as he pushed the lollipop into your sweet succulency. 

“Ohh, oh Tommy..” His lips curled in desire as he watched the lollipop disappear, your walls coating the sugary sweet treat with your nectar.

You could feel the circular shaped treat rub against your sensitive skin slowly at first. 

He knew your pussy like the back of his hand, knew how to push you over the edge wanting to hear you beg him for more.

Your eyes opened slowly in a desirable gaze. Always playing the purity act, a good little girl but you both knew that wasn’t true.

“More- more please.” His eyebrows raised with infatuation, pushing the candy further in, massaging your aching core. 

His tongue twirled deep into your dripping hole, lapping up your savory, delectable cherry juices, his eyes darkening when he glanced up, watching how you were completely losing yourself. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding down for friction against the satin sheets. Your hands clutched your feathery pillow desperately, your lips agape, melodic, lustful moans escaping from the profound, overwhelming feeling of his tongue, completely devouring your beautiful, over stimulated pussy. He didn’t miss a singular beat, rotating between sucking against your lips, leaving playful bites behind as he moved to your clit.

The candied sweet, becoming coated in your slick, as he quickened his motions, the hardened dessert drilling into your tight hole relentlessly. His tongue flicking in an up and down motion, before returning to the pool of slick leaving your body, sucking you dry, covering his face, in your insatiable, soaking mess. 

“Tom- Tommy I’m gonna-“ Your ankles shifted over his legs, your body trembling as your back arched to a perfect curve, pure ecstacy running up your spine, leaving your body in a coma-like euphoria.

“F-f-fuck, oh- fuck-“ His hands clutched your thighs roughly while he devoured your alluring, eager pussy, spilling it’s drenching slik all over Tommy’s experienced lips.

He simultaneously released himself, his moans pressed against your pussy as his warm seed spilled out in his underwear in a sticky, poetic mess.

Pulling the sucker out of your divine tunnel of pleasure, he layed the cherry sucker, coated in your mesmerizing taste of excellency, on his tongue, sucking up the remnants.

You watched his motions in a trance, his blue eyes turning a devilish, frigid shade of blue when he leaned down, locking eyes in a wistful, fucked out haze. “Let’s go to dinner shall we?”

[icarusredwings]

A date with Death.

Slightly nsfw.

The moon is out. The only thing about this specific moon is that it's a full moon. The Blood moon to be specific.

They came every march. And every march you could count on Wade Wilson to be busy that night.

Currently, he was sitting at the top of a sky scraper, kicking his feet over the edge with earbuds in.

Next to him was a sweet little spread, an expensive wine, two glasses, a couple of sodas, a bag of burger and fries, and a box with a small heart-shaped cake inside it, strawberries lining the top.

In his hands was a large bouquet of dark colored roses, burgandy, black, and reds (of course). He knew the moment he gave them to their recipient, they would die instantly, but he knew so would he. And he was okay with that.

Starting to hum, he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, glancing at his hello kitty watch. 5 til 3.

Any moment now, he thought, glancing at the things next to him, moving the glasses over to be closer to the cake, wanting it to look perfect.

Look, if anything, he was a lover. A lover who just happened to love fighting and love kiling. But that didn't make him any less of a hopeless romantic, especially for dark harked ladies that thought he was funny.

Sure, Wade had a lot of lovers. Never being able to pin himself to just one. He spent more time with some than others, but it didn't mean he loved them any less. Even if it was only a couple of minutes a week or, in this case, an hour a year. A singular, annual date.

No, it wasn't merely enough for him, not enough for her either, but he enjoyed their little time together. How she held him and replied to his quips with further jokes that turned him into a puppy, head over heels.

It's not his fault his heart was so big. Honestly. But he knew that even if everyone left him, she would still come each March to see him.

"Welp.." He whispers, wrapping up his Ipod, laying it neatly next to the sodas as he stood up.

Turning on the heel of his good shoes (cheap half off dressage from the thrift, slightly tight, but perfect for dancing) he held the roses near his chest, like a corpse he leaned back, letting himslef fall.

This had to be one of his favorite parts. The cool wind on his back, the freshly ironed jeans and button-up flapping in the wind, the soft sherpa lined denim feeling like laying in a bed of sheep.

"Oh my darling.. Must you always take a swan dive off a 50 story building?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to see that he was back up on that roof, the dark robbed woman rubbing her hand on his arm.

"How else am I supposed to get your attention, sugar?"

She giggles, glancing over the side with an inquisitive hum. "Hhm.. always such a lovely color of red for me."

"Of course. Anything for my boney muffin." He takes her hand, kissing it softly.

"Wade Wilson, you flirt."

"My middle name. How was your trip, pumpkin?"

"Mmh... decent. Such a tease you are. You know that?"

"Obviously. Oh! These are for you. Put them on my grave when I finally get one, willya?" He coes.

She accepts the flowers, barley getting a hold on them before they wilted, drying up. Dying.

"They're beautiful.. but.. erm.. Who's that?" She questions, glancing behind them to a dark figure practically clinging to the roof top exist door.

"Oh, that's just Wolvie. He's fine, got him a number 5 meal and a soda. He's scared of heights." Wade grins, giving him a lazy wave but Logan didn't take his claws out of the metal door to wave back, the other hand holding a burger but he did tip his head. "Ma'am."

"Yeah, he should be at the end of your book somewhere. Slipepry one. Just like me."

"Mmh.. Logan Howlett...Wait I thought I've already taken him?"

"You did! He's a different one. The best one." He smiles towards the man, putting his head agisnt her shoulder.

"The man with many names.... Yes, he should be."

"Huh?"

"He should be scared of heights. I've been trying to catch him since the early 1900s. Slippery indeed...Finally caught him a few years back." She doesn't bat another.. well... dosn't move her skull away from him.

Becoming a bit nervous, Wade intertwined their hands. "Y-yeah he uh... he was curious. So.. you dont have to worry about him, though. Oh! Look! The ambulance finally showed up. Sheesh, tough break, fellas. You're too late!" He shouts at them.

"I see.." she turns back to Wade, grinning. "Don't worry.. I won't take him from you just yet.. he IS the one you were talking about last time, Yes?"

Now, Wade wasn't blind. Death was a jealous woman. Possesive of what was hers. Though Wade wasn't hers. Not quite yet. Not for.. awhile.

It's why she was so intrigued with him. So infatuated. She's never met a human that has wanted to die so much in all these centuries. So badly wishing he could crawl into her arms and let her pet his head for thousands of years as eternity went by.

He nods, blushing a bit. "Y-yeah.."

"Mmh.. quite a looker is he not?"

"Oh he so is. And he acts all tough but really hes a bit softy."

"I bet he's not soft everywhere-" She says, cassually, making Wade cough out a chuckle.

"Oh- my- god! My lady's a freak!" He laughs, still kicking his feet some as he grunts. "Not wrong tho.."

"I bet not." He watches as she looks over the small moonlight picnic he laid out for them. "Wade.. what is all this?"

"It's for our date! I made a cake and everything- well actually Wolvie helped me make it but I cut up the strawberries!"

"You did? Aww, you must be tired from such hard work. But my love..you know I can't eat." She says, frowning, not wanting to rain on his small parade.

"Oh I thought about that already. So I can eat it and then you can taste it. Fun right?"

Her black heart swells, running her hand up to behind his ear, holding his jaw. "You're too sweet."

Wade closes his eyes, leaning into hold, her thumb running over his cheek.

"Hopefully, his icing is as sweet as the cake." She whispers as he gasps, genuienly becoming giggling. "Sttaapph! You're so bad!"

"The baddest?"

Somehow, Wade knew she was giving him those eyes. The kind that suggested something.

"Oooh, the baddest. You know it, babe. Good thing I love me a bad bitch huh? Actually, It's a good thing you like funny losers. Guess in the lucky one."

"Wade.." She says, "you're not that funny."

"Ouch!!" He exclaims, hand drimatically going over his heart, shifting to fall into her lap. "You've wounded me!!" He whined, sticking out his tongue, pretending to be dead.

She laughs through her nose, holding his head in her thighs, petting over his head as she grabs his hand, rubbing over his bumpy skin.

"You're pretty hot tho.." she mutters, bringing the hand to her breast with a teasing smile.

Opening his eyes, he looks up to her with a big shit eating grin. "Oh, you flatter me! And apology accepted." Sitting up he brings the hand to her neck, starting to kiss up her jaw, little pecks.

"You really mean that? Me being pretty hot? And which is it? Am I pretty or am I hot? Cause I think you're gorgeous-"

"Wade."

"I mean, truly, deeply the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I don't just mean your killer rack either-"

"Wade."

"Did you do your hair for me? Goddess, forgive me for saying this, but damn, How are you so fine? Half of you is literally bone and Id still fuck ya until your hip needs replaced, What do you think? Right here on the roof? Hm?"

Pushing the food over, he starts to run his fingers down her side, getting to the point where her waist used to be. "Fuck, babe how are you so tiny down here? You know what, We'll fix that. Lemme pump a baby in ya-"

"Wade!" This time, It came from about 30 feet away, behind them.

"Wha!?"

"Let her speak! Damn!"

"oh..." Honestly, he had forgotten entirely that Logan was even here. He was so quiet..

"I tried to warn you, darling.."

"Well, I'm not sorry! He knew what he was getting into when he came here.. I can't believe I even let him come.. cockblocked on my own date.." he mutters, obviously frustrated as he agressivly popped open the wine bottle, starting to pour.

Seeing how upset he got only made her smile, pulling his waist closer, her hand dipping to 'accidently' brush up against him.

"Why would I thought that was a good-" for a second he stopped talking, leaning his head back into her boobs with a big smirk. "Oh but IM the tease?"

"Shh. Your cock dosn't seem very blocked to me."

A small squeal came from him as he handed a glass to her after swirling it a couple of times.

"A nosotros mi carino." He says, rolling his r all fancy like, leaning on her still with such comfortably.

The smiles, smirking lovingly. "A la esperanza de que te rompas el cuello mi amor~" She coes back, raising her glass to his until it made a CLNK noise, dumping it into her mouth.

Wade does the same, chugging the glass only to sit up, crawling to the edge as he coughs, spitting it out. "Oh, that's HORRIBLE! Jesus! White woman drink that shit? Why? I mean- I get it- after having to watch 5 hours of a pathetic excuse for a soccor game, I'd drink that too."

Death giggles, watching Wade refill their glasses.

[wordbreaker]

The Red Wolf ★ Prologue

For centuries, the Gods⏤Old and New⏤have flipped coin after coin to decide the fate of the Realm. Now that all seems lost, for the Dead are too strong, the Long Night, too thick, the Winter, too cold, it is now men's turn to play this terrible game. May the Red Wolf bend Time and Blood, Fate and Death before Winter comes and swallows the Dance of Men.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x GOT!Snow!FemReader* & Aegon Targaryen x GOT!Snow!FemReader*

*Y/N does have a given name at some point in the story, being a bastard and all.

Word count: 5.2K

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief allusion to SA

Note: In honor of Season 2 dropping in a few hours... Enjoy a good ol' time-traveler fic from yours truly. As always, English is not my first language. I do apologize if some typos and grammatical errors managed to sneak into this.

HIDDEN BEHIND the few battlements where bodies were not yet piling up, you whispered a prayer to the Old Gods⏤your eyes closed to avoid seeing the battlefield that had become of your childhood home. Desperation made people do funny things. Stupid, naive things, like praying. The Gods had abandoned you long ago, for what kind of Gods would destroy their creation in such manner?

The Long Night had plunged Winterfell into a bath of fire and blood, with the singular smell of Death emanating from it and turning stomachs inside out. You had been soaking in the puddle of your own vomit for several minutes. 

It was too much. Too much for you. Death was coming for them all. An unstoppable Death. A Death that walked, that fought, that killed without ever tiring. 

You tightened your grip on your sword, Endbringer, forged from the blade of Ice, the last memento of your father, Lord Eddard Stark. It would not be long before you joined him. He and Catelyn and Robb and Rickon. The Stranger had feasted on the Starks without mercy. Soon he would taste your frightened flesh. Would you find them on the other side? Or did Hell reserve a particular place for bastards? 

A roar pierced the deafening din of the battlefield and the ringing of your ears. Up there, far from the burning barricades and piles of bodies, Jon, your twin, was riding Rhaegal and burning the White Walkers. 

But Death always came back. 

Winterfell, seat of the North, was ablaze with dragonfire. The irony would have pleased the rhapsodists, had they been there to sing the fable. 

The bards will sing no more when Westeros is but an open grave, a voice whispered to you. You buried it⏤along with everything else⏤under the smell of burning flesh and the clash of swords. 

You stood up on wobbly legs. A white strand of hair blocked you vision but you did not care, for nothing could be clearly seen anymore. The smoke from the dragon's fire, the bodies throwing themselves on top of each other, the Dead leaping into the courtyard, the cannonballs flying over the ramparts, the arrows whistling through the air, the buildings exploding. It was all chaos. You dived in it head first, sword in hand. 

You had lost sight of Arya an hour earlier. Your little sister was probably fighting for her life in the corridors. You prayed for her. You prayed for Jon, who was fighting the Night King. You prayed for Theon and for Bran. Most of all, you prayed for Sansa, imprisoned in the crypt, perhaps the only place in the North where the dead did not yet walk. 

Your thoughts drifted to your father, whose remains lay among the women and children, the weak and the new, the Ancestors and Descendants. As foolish as it sounded, seeing him reborn, even for a moment, in the skin of a White Walker, would give you the courage to fight. 

The Old Gods knew you sorely needed it.

You shut out your memories and stumbled to the entrance of the tower. Above your head, arrows pierced the wind and stuck into the ground made of flesh and blood. Enemies, allies, the dead, the living, all merged into one agonising, shapeless mass. Miraculously⏤perhaps the Gods had heard you⏤you managed to reach the tower and immediately rushed down the stairs. You stepped over the fallen bodies, for Death had already stained the stones of the castle, and counted the remaining steps. 

It would only take a few minutes to reach the lower rooms. 

Of Winterfell, you remembered everything. Seven years had not been enough to erase the precious memories of your childhood. It had gone too quickly, tainted by the horrors and scheming of the South. For a long time, you had wondered what had killed your carefree spirit. 

You had first thought your childhood had been crushed along Bran's legs but⏤forced to flee King's Landing at a mere four and ten because you were seen not just as a bastard but as the bastard of a traitor⏤you had soon realised the truth. 

Your innocence had died the day Jon Arryn had been murdered, for Death brought naught but bad omens and destruction. 

The Starks had gone South and, in doing so, had sealed their doom. 

You longed for the years before Robert Baratheon had visited and destroyed everything you knew and held dear. You⏤eager to forget the ravaging war⏤closed your eyes and let yourself be basked in what had been and would never be again. 

Sheltered by the porch at the entrance to the Great Keep, Vayon Poole, Maester Luwin and Father were discussing the affairs of the people. You, seven years younger and sitting next to Arya and Sansa, were trying to embroider a flower without pricking your fingers and lamenting over the fact that you could not join the boys who, further down in the courtyard, were practising their swordplay with Rodrik Cassel. Bran was still walking. Robb was breathing and Theon had not yet betrayed them. Familiar faces were everywhere: Hodor, Mikken, Farlen, Hullen, even Gage the cook. House Stark was alive, far from the shenanigans of the Lions and the capital that had damned them. 

In the distance, a frail voice mumbled tales from another age. 

Old Nan would always knit far-fetched stories.

Except they were anything but. The Long Night had well and truly begun again and, in its darkness, it would swallow up everything you loved: your family, your friends and your people, if they were not already walking with the dead. 

A growl echoed through the corridor. You raised Endbringer, ignored the trembling in your hands and continued forward⏤to stop was to die, you told yourself. In silence, you plunged in the darkness of Winterfell's corridors. You squinted your eyes, trying to make out a silhouette, a noise, anything, but the dead entangled on the floor remained dead. 

For how much longer? you thought darkly. 

Another growl, close by. You swallowed and turned. Two sparkling blue eyes were staring back at you. Shivers ran down your spine. Your hand trembled around your sword⏤your lifeline and perhaps your only chance of escape. You thought of Old Nan and, with only fear and adrenaline for a brain, attacked. 

The White Walker let out an inhuman scream, somewhere between a shriek and a hiss. 

The sound of Death. 

It was tolling your bells. 

It put so much force into its blow that you had to take several steps back when you parried it. For a brief moment, you wondered whether Endbringer would resist. Was Valyrian steel mere iron in the face of Death? 

Your years of combat training seemed to disappear. No reflexes, no tactics, just your survival instinct to guide and defend.

You did not stand a chance.

The pack survives, a voice whispered to you. But where was Sansa? Arya? Jon? You were the only one in the corridor⏤a Lone Wolf against Death. 

You raised Endbringer and brought it down hard on the Other's shoulder. It split the air and the putrid remains of flesh. Its arm fell to the ground, but it began to twitch and reached for your ankles. Its fingers snaked to avoid your heavy sole and came dangerously close to your heel. 

A kick and the arm disappeared further away, entangled in a pile of bloody limbs, but you knew it would be back, disturbing as that thought was. 

Exhaustion made you heavy and slow. Your blows grazed the creature in front of you without ever bringing it down. Death never wavered. It delivered blow after emotionless blow, the only evidence of the soul that once resided in its body being those two big blue eyes, too bright to be the work of the Gods. 

A guttural howl split your throat. Then came a stabbing pain, which burned through your flesh and blood. 

The Other had thrust its sword into your shoulder. 

You felt the blood trickle down your collarbone, colonising your flesh and armour. 

Then you heard it. Above you, a desperate voice screamed.  

Dracarys. 

You stumbled to the wall and snatched the nearest torch, throwing it at the White Walker. Immediately, the creature writhed in an agony that might have been pleasurable had you had time to admire it, for you seized your only chance of survival and, ignoring your heart pounding against your temples, ran. 

You ran and never looked back. To look back was to die, you repeated to yourself. And you, Y/N Snow, were not done with Life yet. 

Death would have to wait.

The thick walls of Winterfell were not enough to drown out the shrill cries of the dragons. They shook the centuries-old walls around and above you. The smell of burning flesh tickled your nose and stirred your stomach. The terrible smell reminded you of funeral pyres. 

Winterfell was nothing but a pile of rumble and dead, you realised as you passed the disjointed body of a young soldier, too young to fight. You prayed to the Old Gods to spare your twin, your other half, and continued your journey to the lower halls. You passed the library, stepped over more disfigured bodies and made your way through the burnt carcasses of the Others. Everywhere, fire and death embraced in a touch that gave you goosebumps.  

The journey from the tower to the halls took an eternity. Fear and fatigue slowed you down, as well as the weight of your armour on your slumped shoulders. 

Your body was giving up. 

At the turn of yet another corridor, you finally came across a small room, which you hastened to enter. Glancing around, you realised it was meant to be used by servants. The mattress still retained the shape of a body, which was probably no longer breathing. 

A sudden howl ripped through the corridor and startled you. Someone banged on the door but you threw yourself against it and held it shut. With a trembling hand, you closed the latch, then the chain, and kept your shoulder pressed against the wood. 

"Help me!" someone screamed. "Please! There's too many! I've got a wife... A boy… My boy… Please! Have mercy! Let me in!"

Already, the cries of distress had mingled with inhuman gurgling. You turned your head and closed your eyes before sliding back against the door and bringing your hand to your trembling mouth. 

Valar morghulis. 

You soon lost track of the minutes, as you weaved your agony through the darkest hours of Westeros.

Other soldiers pounded on the door, but all died at its threshold. Their bodies, still warm, rose up immediately, animated by an evil and ancient force. You ignored their nails scratching against the wood and the inhuman growls that shook it. Blood stained the stone-floor and snaked its way up to you, further staining your already-crimson armour, but you kept your eyes and lips closed. The black behind your eyelids was only slightly different from the Long Night, but it gave you an illusion of protection you could not refuse. 

With a trembling hand, you wiped your face, bathed in tears, blood and mud, but the wounds on your cheeks remained open and your tears, wet. The ringing in your ears continued to torment you. 

"Pull yourself together, damn it," you whispered angrily. 

But already your vision was blurring. The adrenalin had left your muscles, leaving you paralysed with pain and fear. Soon came the sobs that shook your shoulders and tore at your lungs. 

At last, your body and mind were coming together to cry out their agony.  

A whistle pierced the din of your sadness and put an end to it. You raised her head, frowning. You turned and, just in time, avoided the axe that suddenly slashed the door. 

You screamed.

The blade disappeared, leaving a hole large enough to see blue eyes, and came down on the wood again. A hand reached into the hole and tried to grab you, but you threw herself to the floor and crawled away. You clung to the mattress. Behind you, the growling intensified and sent shivers down your spine. No human could make that noise. 

The walls of the room closed in on you. 

The Old Gods had exhausted their mercy. 

It was time to die. 

The axe whistled through the air and lodged itself in the mattress⏤a mere centimetre away from your hand⏤scattering strands of straw and bits of flesh on the floor. 

How many men had lost their lives on that blade? How many throats slit? Decapitated heads? How many mutilated bodies? 

Your hands fluttered around your belt. Your fingers brushed against all the weapons within your reach without ever grabbing one. You looked up. The door wouldn't hold for long. The White Walker was pounding on it relentlessly. 

You grabbed the dragonglass dagger Jon had given you⏤I won't be there to protect you. Come back to me alive, he had told you, unaware of the years you had spent defending yourself alone in Westeros. Trapped in the cold at the Wall, how could he have known? How could he understand what had happened to you? 

You shook off these thoughts and took a deep breath before standing up on trembling legs. The biting north wind blew through your armour and chilled you, but the sweat dripping down your back still clung to your skin. 

You had to leave, but where? Your childhood home, reduced to a graveyard of endless rebirth, was falling into ruin. Soon, the White Walkers would have invaded every room and soaked the stones in blood. How many of your brothers in arms had already joined the Night King’s ranks? 

On the other side of the door, the Dead was going mad, his movements, more abrupt. You clamped your hands over your ears and curled up on the floor. You let the dagger drop. Your breathing quickened. You were going to die. Like all the others. 

Robb was dead. Rickon. Father. Uncle Benjen. Catelyn. Was Arya still alive or had she abandoned you too? What about Jon? What was the point of staying alive when everyone else was dying? 

Another knock rattled the door. You jumped and stepped back, but your shins collided with the mat. 

You did not stand a chance. 

The door burst open. 

The wood exploded in deadly splinters. 

The White Walker pounced on you. 

An unparallelled smell enveloped you. You screamed and struggled. You clawed at mouldy flesh, struck fragile bones and tore off dirty rags. Blood beaded on your fingers as you deflected a blade from your throat, which the creature's rotten teeth lunged at. You pushed against it with all your might. 

The Other fell to the ground and stopped moving. 

Your breathing was all you could hear as your heart raced. For a second, you thought it was over, but the White Walker suddenly stood up and crawled towards you. 

Death never tires. 

You tried to fight it off, kicking it wherever you could reach: on the head, on the shoulders, in the neck... but the creature kept moving. Axe in hand⏤when did he get it back?⏤its skeletal arm split the air and scraped your ankle. You fell to your knees screaming and, in a desperate move, plunged your dagger into its accursed blue eye. 

The creature exploded into fragments of ice. A few of them grazed your face. 

You swept them away with a wave of your hand. 

Down here, caught between your Ancestors and the Dead, victory had a bitter taste. You limped out of the room and wandered through the corridors, which you did not recognise. Winterfell was becoming unknown before your eyes, ravaged by Death and the despair of the unlucky Survivors. 

Several times, lone White Walkers blocked your path. You managed to get rid of them, but never escaped unscathed. Their dull blades always pierced your armour and flesh, leaving you aching. 

It was not until you reached the west wing of the castle that the screaming stopped and, at last, the calm of the North enveloped you in its thick cloak. The silence made you shiver. How it contrasted with the din of war... It was almost terrifying. 

Finally, at the end of a staircase, a new door. 

You wasted no time in entering and barricading the room. You slid the wooden palisade into its notches and stepped back, frightened to see a new axe appear. 

When you turned round, you gasped at the awful sight the Gods had painted for your eyes. The fireplace at the back of the room lit up a pile of tangled bodies in one corner. The shadows played and illuminated the severed arms, the decapitated heads, the men turned into trunks. Nothing on the canvas was complete; everything had to be put together to become human again. 

You staggered back, nauseous and swore before pressed one hand against your stomach. The other covered your mouth in a last-ditch effort to save you but the smell of decay, so characteristic of death, delivered the fatal blow. You turned your head and bent down to vomit your guts out. 

"A Wolf far from her pack," a seductive voice said. "Snow seems to have numbed the blood."

 You spun around and squinted but could only make out a red cloak. The flames swirled and licked at its ends, but always left the fabric intact. The stranger stepped forward and revealed a familiar face, a worrying face. Her eyes sparkled, hiding secrets that made you shiver. Stories of New Gods and diabolical powers, everything you hated⏤for you were a child of the North and the North prayed to nameless Gods. 

You placed one hand on Endbringer's pommel, sat down against the wall⏤opposite the bodies⏤and wiped your lips. The steel of your armour was an icy kiss against them. You relished in the sensation and remained silent. You no longer had the strength to answer riddles. You no longer had the strength for anything. 

You just listened to the Living and the Dead killing each other, head against the wall, eyes closed to ignore reality.

Minutes passed, until finally you grew tired of the sound of swords and the agony of men. You opened your eyes and immediately met the gaze of the red witch. Melisandre, you remembered. Ser Davos had said that name with such that you could not have forgotten it even if you wanted to. 

You jerked, your armour digging painfully into your ribs, and cleared your throat, but the witch's gaze never wavered. 

In the distance, a man screamed for his life. You winced and finally broke the silence. 

"I hear the clamour of battle, the cries of pain, the prayers shouted over the blows of swords, but the Night does not give way and the Dead still march. We won't win," you murmured. 

You met the witch's eyes but quickly looked away, towards the fireplace where the flames were still dancing, untouched by the torments of men. 

"Can't you ask your Lord to save us from this hell?" you mocked.

"The Lord of Light does not interfere with destiny," replied the sorceress, who chose to ignore your blatant irony. "The New Gods weave everyone's prophecies and they have seen just to–"

You scoffed. Your chapped lips stretched into a smirk. You shook your head and laughed. Your lungs hurt like hell but the hilarity made the pain sweet. 

"The Gods," you giggled. "Old... New... Seven or one... The Gods abandoned us to our fate a long time ago. Perhaps this is our punishment... to die here without even the comfort of Faith. Our shroud shall be neither prayer nor forgiveness, only the putrid smell of death and the warm bodies of our fallen brothers. Isn't it time to just give up?"

"Why aren't you out in the courtyard then? Among the corpses, looking for Death you so desperately seek? Why are you hiding in this room when your sister and twin are fighting hard against it and heading off to their destiny?"

You looked up at the witch.

"Arya?" you whispered hoarsely. "Did you run into Arya? Is she alive? What of Jon? Why is he here? Wasn't he riding Rhaegal just a few minutes ago?"

The witch sighed, suddenly so human, as terrifying as it sounded, and knelt down in front of you, who watched her with teary eyes. The red-haired woman took your hand and clasped it in hers. Her cold skin sent shivers down your spine, but you made no attempt to free yourself from the embrace. 

"Rhaegal is no more. Even dragonfire is no longer enough against the Night King. The darkness is already feasting on his scales."

You pressed your hand against your chest. A nameless agony seized you and tore at your heart. Poor beast, you thought. 

There was a time when dragons would only fly from verse to verse in the history books you loved dearly, the ones recounting the fables of the Targaryen dynasty. How many times had you told their fables to Arya, when your sister could not yet read? 

Dragons had danced in your imagination throughout your childhood.  

Then, miraculously, they had danced over Westeros, brought back to life by Daenerys Stormborn, whom your father had spared. You had not believed the tales at first and had regretted it when the dragons finally danced over Winterfell.  

Tonight, dragons no longer danced. Like everything else, they were dying. A tear rolled down your cheek. You wept for this majestic creature, who had also fallen victim to the War of Men. 

"No one is immune to the vicissitudes of fate, Rhaella, not even dragons."

You blinked, frowned, and tore your hand away from the witch's grip before grabbing Endbringer.

"My name is Y/N," you corrected, your voice sharp. 

"Are you quite sure? Didn't your twin tell you? Of his discovery? Of his destiny? I've told you. No one is immune to his vicissitudes," the witch repeated. "Not even you." 

"I don't understand..."

The witch moved closer and took one of your hair, wrapping it around her finger. You clenched your jaw but made no move to interrupt her. Don't struggle or it'll be worse, a snarling and masculine voice whispered. You closed your eyes and tried to bury the painful memories that were clawing to the surface. Hands on your body and in your hair. On your lips and cheeks. Under your dress... 

"Did you never wonder where that colour came from? Such white…. You don't see hair like this in those parts. Even your grey eyes, no doubt those of the Wolf, can't hide the warm blood that runs through your veins. Your twin was luckier in that respect, I must admit."

You violently shook yourself off and stood up, your eyes raging, vile memories once again buried deep.

"You do not know what you’re talking about, witch," you spat out the last word. "Flames make your head spin. My father was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King. My mother was but a whore whose true name was lost when that cunt Joffrey Lannister killed my father. Stop this nonsense, or I'll not hesitate to kill you."

"And this fiery rage, this bloodlust? Does it come from the Quiet Wolf, whose honour and calm cost him his head?"

You growled and grabbed the woman's hair. You drew your dagger and pressed it against the woman's milky throat, ready to draw blood. Would it be the singular colour of flames or the common red of mortals? 

The witch grabbed the dagger with her bare hand and deflected it. Her fingers remained intact. No blood spattered against the flesh. You blinked, but the skin remained white, immaculate. 

Impossible, you thought. 

"I can show you. The truth, first. Your destiny, then."

You did not understand at first. It was only when the witch moved towards the fireplace that your eyes widened. You sheathed your dagger and took three large steps back. Your back hit the wall with the sound of steel and for that you were thankful. 

"I have no use of your false God."

The witch ignored you and pulled a coin from her cloak before turning to face you once more. It looked like a Gold Dragon, worn and battered. 

"Perhaps you would prefer to play a game, then. A game the gods have been playing for centuries, long before you were born."  

The witch threw the coin at you. You caught it by reflex and turned it over to look at it. For a while, you caressed it and enjoyed its rough surfaces. The dirt, which the endless passing of hands had collected, masked the King's head, but you knew it was neither that of Robert Baratheon nor of Cersei Lannister's Bastard. Frowning, you began to scrape the coin with the tip of your fingernail. It first revealed a notched crown, then a lean neck, long hair and, finally, a name.

A familiar name, engraved just below the royal silhouette. 

A series of shivers ran down your spine as your lips formed the cursed name. 

AERYS II. 

The Mad King.  

"What are you waiting for? Flip it," Melisandre asked. 

You opened her mouth, ready to insult her and demand her to stop jesting, but growls cut you off. You turned around. 

In the corner of the room, bodies were stirring. 

The coin was soon forgotten. 

You unsheathed Endbringer, but the sword had lost its frightening glint. It was a miracle of the Gods that it did not slip from your weak and trembling hands. You could feel the burns and wounds that lacerated your palm and weakened your grip.

"What's going on?" you asked as panic ran up your spine.  

Fear had already taken hold of your soul and made your knees buckle. Your stomach churned but you swallowed down the nausea. 

"The Dead are waking up," the witch simply said.

You could not find the strength to scream. A feeling of despair crawled through your body and numbed your mind. There was no respite from the horror. How much longer would they have to fight? How much longer before everything died and was reborn as something evil? 

The flames in the fireplace were still dancing. You glanced at the witch, but she was muttering unknown words, her hands clasped around her necklace. 

She wouldn't be of any help, you realised. Already, legs and hands were emerging from the hill of flesh. They charged at you. You stabbed them with your dagger and ran to the fireplace. Growls rose up behind you but you ignored them and buried your fear deep inside before glancing over your shoulder. One of the Walkers was already hopping on one leg in your direction. Melisandre still hadn't woken up from her lethargy. 

You did not have much time. 

You turned back to the flames, which seemed to whisper incantations to you. They glowed brighter, twisting in a hypnotic dance and brushing against your armour. 

Dracarys, they screamed at you. 

You did not think, for there was no time, and plunged your hand into the fire, grabbed a burning log and turned to throw it into the pile of Dead. You clenched your fist and watched as the flames engulfed the rag of one of the bodies before spreading to the rest of the pile, turning it into a pyre.  

The Dead began to sing out their agony. 

You begged them to shut up but they never did.

Several creatures managed to escape the deadly embrace of the flames but, each time, you were there to stab them with your dagger or sliced them with your sword. You defended yourself for what seemed like hours, throwing torches and firewood at the crawling corpses, stabbing the few spared with your dagger and even decapitating the rare bodies that were still whole. 

The Dead stopped singing after several long minutes and, at last, the pile of bodies came to rest. This time for good, you hoped. A naive thought, really. 

Down here, the Dead never stayed silent for long. 

You turned frantically towards the witch. 

"We must lea–" 

Air ran down your spine. You met Melisandre's wide-eyed gaze, fixed on a much lower point, and followed it. A blade was protruding from your armour. Not your dagger. Not Endbringer. A rusty, broken blade. You frowned and looked up at the witch. 

"What is–"

"Do not speak," she ordered. 

You touched your lower abdomen, suddenly dizzy. A warm liquid stained your fingers. It was only when you brought them into view that you realised what it was.

I was blood. 

Then came the pain. 

Everywhere. 

Unprecedented. 

"J... Jon..." you hiccuped. A wet cough shook your lungs. Drops of blood stained your lips and the witch's porcelain face. "I want... Jon." 

Before your frightened eyes, the witch picked up the coin from earlier and placed it in your palm. She closed your fist and enveloped it in hers. You watched her do it, eyes blurred by the pain. Your body was already giving out on you. It was cold, too cold… 

Winter is coming, your father said. 

My father is dead, you replied.

"Āeksiō ōños." 

A voice pierced the fog that was gradually inhibiting all your senses. You blinked. 

"W-what are you...?" you managed to whisper between coughs. "... doing?" 

Your breathing quickened. Your knees buckled. You tried to free yourself but the witch dug her nails into your hand. 

"Stop!" you screamed, terrified. 

"Āeksiō ōños. Āeksiō ōños. Āeksiō ōños!"

In your grip, the coin caught fire. The flames devoured the Mad King's head and, with it, your palm. You screamed, feeling your skin getting torn apart by the fire. Nausea turned your stomach. You choked on a mixture of blood and bile and staggered backwards, but the red witch did not let go. 

"Obūljagon se jēda se ānogar. Kostagon se mele zokla lilagon isse vīlībāzma se ērinagon toliot vējes. Lord of Light! Come to us in our darkness. Cast your light upon us. For the night is dark and full of terrors!" 

Everything went up in flames. 

When you opened your eyes, the dead were no longer singing. An entirely different cacophony resounded. Swords and screams deafened you. You tried to speak but your body, numb, remained motionless, your mind, confused, your lips, closed. 

Had the Long Night ceased? 

The lights were blinding. 

There was no light in Winterfell.  

Nausea turned your stomach in waves. Too weak to lift an arm, you let yourself drown in it and choked on your vomit before closing your eyes.

"...ko...b…sa?"

Someone was talking to you, you realised, but you did not have the strength to find out who. 

"Skoros aōha brōzi issa?"

Your voice faded in your throat. The metallic taste of blood colonised both your palate and tongue. You coughed, the wet sound hurting your chest, and tried to sit up but could not find the strength to do that either. 

"Stomach... Blood..." you managed to stammer out before everything went black. Again. 

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

don't you worry your pretty little mind

pairing: Dave York x fem!reader

rating: PG for 1 (one) ass squeeze but otherwise just all the fluff

word count: ⁓ 1.3k give or take

warnings: none, i think?? teeny tiny smidge of angst at the very beginning, Dave being an adorable dad, one singular ass squeeze as mentioned above, reader has no physical description besides being called "wife"

a/n: my contribution to @happypedrohours's Charcuterie Board Challenge!! thank you Mel and Sara for putting all of this together �� my pairing was Dave + feta cheese. the event doesn't technically start until Friday but i have another wip scheduled for that day 👀 and i was just too excited to wait to share this. happy belated father's day to our favorite murder daddy 💛

“Honey, have you seen the feta?”

Dave wanders into the kitchen to see your entire top half buried in the open fridge. He laughs at the sight and you whip around with wide eyes.

“Well?”

“It should be right there on the shelf in front of you.” Dave leans on the counter beside you, chuckling again as you dive back in.

“You’re right, it should be. But it’s not.” You slam the door closed and begin pacing around the kitchen, opening various cabinets in a frantic search.

“Sweetheart, it’s not going to be under the sink with the sponges.” Dave tries to reason with you but you’re set on your task. He finally sighs and gently takes your wrist, halting your movement. “Hey, relax. It’s just a stupid plat-”

“David York, I swear to God if you say ‘stupid platter’ one more time, I will hit you over the head with the cutting board,” you threaten only half-seriously. “This is the one thing your mother requested for this party and it’s ruined.”

Dave fights the urge to roll his eyes as you’re already on edge and he knows it would only piss you off even more. “It is not ruined because there’s one thing missing. Look,” he wraps his arm around you and directs you to the center island where your meticulously designed charcuterie board lays out, “there is plenty of food here already. Grapes, olives, bell peppers, pitas and hummus. Carrots and ranch for the girls.” He turns to you and lifts your chin to meet your eyes. “My mother is not going to miss one thing out of all of this.”

You huff despite your appreciation of his attempt to reassure you. “Yes, she will. Because she hates me.” You cross your arms, deflating as Dave scoffs and backs away, rubbing his forehead.

“We’ve been over this. She does not-”

“Yes, she does, Dave! She literally told me herself that I’m the reason you and Carol split!”

“And we both know that couldn’t be further from the truth!”

“Yes! I know that. You know that. But she is convinced that I’m a homewrecker and she’s on a mission to destroy me by nitpicking every single thing that I do.” You match Dave’s stance, rubbing your own forehead to stave off a headache. “I just…she’s your mother, Dave, and I…”

Dave sighs and closes the distance between you again, rubbing your arms soothingly. “I know, baby, I know. I appreciate you wanting to impress her but in the end, it won’t make any difference.” Your head shoots up, brows furrowed in confusion. “I love you. You’re my wife. And nothing my mother says or does is going to change the way I feel.”

You relax at his clarification. Scrunching your eyes closed, you groan in defeat and lean your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. You hold each other for a moment, Dave rubbing your back. Finally, Dave lets out a deep relenting breath.

“But if it really means that much to you, I’ll run to the store and get more.”

You squeeze him tight and peck his lips, a cheesy smile breaking across your face. “Thank you.”

When Dave returns 3 hours later, the kitchen is even more a mess than it was before. It looks like the fridge vomited all of its contents across the counters and dining table. Your charcuterie board, however, still sits untouched in the middle of the island. You’re nowhere in sight.

Dave sets the plastic grocery bag containing your cheesy trophy next to the culinary creation and opens his mouth to call your name, but the doorbell cuts him off. He goes to the door, welcoming in his daughters and ex-wife. Carol bears a tray of brownies and follows Dave to the kitchen while Molly and Alice race upstairs.

Carols lets out a low whistle at the tsunami of food items. “Doing some spring cleaning, Dave?” she jokes.

Dave just shakes his head in exasperation as you enter in from the garage. “I thought I heard the door!” You cross over to give Carol a quick, friendly hug and take the dessert tray from her.

“Baby, what…is all this?” Dave turns in a circle, motioning to the room around him.

You crouch down and rifle through a cabinet for a plate to set out the brownies. “I turned the entire fridge inside-out looking for the feta. No luck.” Standing, you see the grocery bag on the island and gasp delightedly. “You got it! What took you so long, anyway?”

Dave groans and drops his head back tiredly. “You would not believe the trials I endured to find that for you.”

You and Carol laugh at his dramatics. She pats his shoulder and ventures over to the stairs in search of the girls. You round the island and place your hands on his chest. “My hero.”

He looks down at you, smiling at the appreciation in your eyes and pulling you into his arms. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yeah, I am.” You lean up to kiss him and he happily accepts, cupping your cheek with one hand to deepen it. You pull away slightly to mutter against his lips. “I’ll have to figure out a way to thank you later.”

A rumble emits from deep in Dave’s chest as his other hand slides down to cup your ass, earning a soft squeak from you as he squeezes. “I might have a couple ideas.”

You pull apart from each other as a shout from upstairs warns the impending arrival of Molly and Alice. You unpack the cheese and begin slicing it as the thunder of small feet spills down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dave steps forward and catches Alice in his arms as she runs in, followed closely by her sister, lifting her with an exaggerated groan as she squeals in excitement. “You’re getting too big for me, baby girl.”

You laugh and smile fondly at Dave interacting with his daughters. Carol enters and quietly offers to help you arrange the platter, careful not to interrupt the heartwarming scene in front of you. You start handing her pieces of cheese as Molly walks over and plops her chin on the countertop with a disappointed huff. “Awww, you found it.”

You scrunch your eyebrows and look up at her. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“I hid the cheese, but you found it anyway.”

This catches Dave’s attention as he looks over, putting his hands on his hips in a typical dad stance. “Where did you hide it, Mol?”

The young girl crosses to the fridge but opens the door to the freezer instead. She digs to the back of the bottom drawer and emerges with a rock-solid brick of feta cheese. “Right here.”

Carol’s jaw falls open in surprise. You press your lips together, stifling a laugh. Dave stutters out, “W-why…why would you put it there?”

Molly shrugs, unconcerned. “Because it’s gross and I didn’t want it.”

You burst into a fit of giggles at the innocent statement and Alice joins in. Carol simply sighs and drops her head in exasperation before devolving into soft laughter as well. Dave, meanwhile, still stands with his hands on his hips, blinking repeatedly as he tries to comprehend his daughter’s words.

He finally looks over at you incredulously and you try to smother your amusement for his sake, but the look on his face is too priceless and only makes you laugh even harder.

“Happy Father’s Day?”

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we get cherry jks reaction when Mc finally shows her tattoo to jk😊 thanks

A/N: Warnings for sexual tension

"So." He grins.

"..So." You parrot back, though not as confident.

You're both sitting on his couch again, facing each other. Suddenly, you feel odd. What if he's disappointed by your body? What if he thinks you're a lot prettier than you actually are? And what if he thinks your tattoo is stupid, badly made, or doesn't suit you?

"Do you wanna.. take it off yourself, or..?" He wonders casually, leaning his head a bit to the side.

"..you." You point towards him, unable to really bring yourself to undress. It's not even all that bad- he's gonna be able to see the tattoo without you taking off your bra anyways. You're not gonna have to get naked.

But you kind of want to be, just to see what he thinks of you.

He's clearly scanning your face and rest of you for any sign of discomfort as he scoots closer to you, fingers pulling your shirt out from where you had it tucked into your shorts, before he slowly lifts it up, your hands lift to make it easier for him to pull it over your head.

Of course your underwear would be cute- lace rim sitting snug against your skin, little bows placed right where the straps begin, one singular one right in between the two cups that hold your tits all securely inside.

He actually thought about what they maybe look like. He didn't think they'd look this pretty.

"Can I touch you?" He wonders, and you shrug, before nodding, his hands surprisingly warm as he smiles, before he leans in a little closer. "Lay back for me a little, yeah?" He asks, voice lower than before, less clear, a lot more breathy. You nod, letting him help you lay back down as he sits right over your legs, knees digging into the couch below so that he doesn't put his weight on you.

He pushes up the hem under your bra, but you notice he's struggling a little not to go too far-

so you move your hands and unhook the back of your bra, catching him off guard as his hands leave you, eyes wide open before he laughs, face resting on your stomach, exhale from his nose tickling your skin.

"God damnit woman, give a man a warning!" He scolds, looking back up at you. "I thought I broke it!" He complains, causing you to laugh as well now.

"Sorry." You apologize, and he shakes his head, before he looks back at you. "You can take it off too." You approve, and he licks his lips, gaze now darkening quite a bit at the prospect of being allowed to do something like that.

He looks almost concentrated as he rids you off your underwear, leaving it to hang over the backrest of the couch to not get lost.

"That's, without exaggeration-" He says, leaning back a bit to look at you. "-the best pair of tits I've ever seen." He nods, playfully acting impressed, like an art-critic looking at a painting revealed. "Like, I know I'm supposed to look at the tattoo but wow.. can I touch them?" He wonders, and you nod- his entire demeanor making you feel awfully comfortable.

His palms immediately take the place of your bra earlier, and he personally thinks his hands are a way better fit and sight than the undergarment.

But maybe that's just him.

The moment he finds the tattoo however, he's interested. Fine lines, some already quite faded, no shadowing whatsoever. It's a simple flower design, very pretty, doesn't need any bold colors or more additions to it.

It's fine as it is. Fits you perfectly.

"I could re-trace those lines here. They're almost invisible- which happens a lot with fine line artworks.." He mumbles, before he notices your thighs move together.

Oh?

One look up reveals your flushed face, and only now does he notice the way his fingers must've continuously brushed over your by now hardened nipples. "But maybe I gotta get more familiar with... the client first." he purrs, hands moving as his body moves to lay lower, now his chin touching your stomach. "Hm?" He wonders, and you whine, unsure what to ask for.

How far does he want to even go? Does he want full on sex, or is he still only teasing you?

"Did you know that some girls can cum from only getting their tits touched?" He asks you boldly, and you shake your head, making him grin, before he runs his thumbs over your sensitive buds, a kiss placed right up onto the lowest part of your sternum.

"Wanna see if you're one of them?"

[persefolli]

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐱, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @xylianasblog, @scarasbaefy, @sukunasbigtiddiewifey, @childofgod-05, and happy belated b-day to @the-mourning-moon I hope you enjoy this fic

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

It had been years since your boyfriend disappeared into space for ‘science’. For years you wondered what he was up to, if he was being loyal, if he would ever come home. But Jake made sure to send you video messages once a month to reassure you that he loved you and couldn’t wait to get home. 48 video messages later, the RDA was shut down, and every human that was sent up there working for the company was sent right back down. You only heard of the news, but held little to no hope that you would see Jake again.

That was until about a week after hearing the news, you walked into your apartment to see your boyfriend standing on two feet, looking at the pictures on the wall that depicted the two years you spent alone. You dropped your grocery bags on the floor, shattering the eggs and smashing the bread you’d bought a few minutes earlier. .

“Jake?”

Your boyfriend turned around, a toothy smile on his face, one that was full of warmth. Like he never left.

“Expected me to roll up on you didn’t you?”

You ran forward and embraced him in your arms, sobbing once it clicked in your brain that he was home, and he could walk. “I missed you so much.” He said quietly under his breath, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

The two of you sat tangled on the couch, ignoring the ruined groceries, to give vague details of the past two years. The two of you were so excited to see each other you didn’t even bother to take the time and explain life in an understandable manner.

“Other than the legs…I brought something else home.”

You raised a singular eyebrow and followed behind Jake as he guided you to a room you’d kept empty in your apartment. You gasped seeing a large capsule with an 8 foot tall alien laying inside. You gasped to scream, but Jake shushed you.

“That's me!”

“That's you?”

“It looks just like me doesn't it?”

You shook your head nervously. Jake sighed and walked over to the limp alien, poking and prodding at it. “It won’t hurt you. See? I can control what it does.”

“Like an alexa? Tell it to stand up and it’ll magically wake up.”

“No.” Jake chuckled. He walked over to another smaller capsule, and laid in it, getting comfortable before seemingly going limp himself.

“Jake?” Your voice quivered after a few moments of silence. He’d left you alone with this big blue alien and you had no idea what to do. That was until the alien opened its eyes, and began blinking. You shrieked and tripped backwards, looking as the creature shot up and looked at you with big, yellow, concerned eyes.

“Calm down baby. It’s me. It's Jake!” He reassured you.

You sat on the floor looking up at him frozen in fear, looking between his limp body, and the alien.

“I have a twin brother named Tommy. I used to be in the military, and we met at a bar.” He recited things only you knew the real Jake would know. Jake's eyes narrowed when he realized you weren’t budging and sighed. “You have a birthmark right under your left buttcheek.” You tried to fight back a smirk but eventually lost to the laughter that erupted from your throat. Jake laughed with you and stretched out his large blue hand to help you up. Standing, you reached his belly button, or at least the top of your head did. You craned your neck to look up at him.

“So what did you do with this thing?”

“I infiltrated an alien race that looked just like this,” he explained. “But unfortunately things went left and now I'm practically banished from the clan. And it didn’t help the RDA get booted either.”

You nodded and circled him, touching his tail and thigh. “Did you like it there?”

Jake smiled, “it was…a breath of fresh air, an escape from my wheelchair for sure.”

“Would you have come home?” You asked sadly. He was gone for so long, and even with the video messages it was clear he liked life on Pandora, maybe even better than his life here on earth.

“Oh Y/n…” Jake kneeled. “I would’ve stopped at nothing to come home to you. But I wanted to come home on two legs.” He placed a kiss on your cheek. You gasped at the silky touch of his alien lips. You smiled and nodded at him. Jake went back over to lay his alien body back in the capsule, and he returned to you in his human form.

He knew this was a lot for you to process, so he wasted no time in getting you out of the room and comforting you in bed.

After a few weeks, you got used to Jake being back home, often coming home to see him cooking or watching T.V. He’d gotten himself a job as a military recruiter, which he made a perfect fit for. He worked daily, sunup to sun down, while you worked a typical 9-5.

On your off days, or when Jake left you alone at home, you found yourself in that room staring at the alien in the capsule. It was captivating, and for some reason you couldn’t leave it alone.

The first few days you were afraid of touching it. You didn’t want Jake to know that you had taken a liking to the creature. But as time went on, you got more comfortable. Tracing its Jake-like features, tugging at his tail, even running your hands over its clothed abs.

But what you were more interested in was the mystery that laid underneath the cargo pants. You didn’t want to just pull down the pants and look, and you certainly didn’t want to touch it. But everything about this humanoid was so big. And if everything else was big…

The sound of the front door closing caused you to jump and run out the room, but your swift movements caught the attention of Jake, and he smiled, catching you right in the act.

“Curious are we?”

“I was making sure it wasn’t-”

“I showed you how it worked.” He took off his jacket and approached slowly, backing you into the wall behind you. “You knew it wouldn’t wake up.”

“This is new technology Jake. Anything is possible.”

Jake searched your eyes before scoffing and walking into the kitchen. “I’m making rigatoni…if you're done playing with my alien.”

“I wasn’t- Ugh!” You rolled your eyes and sat on the couch, turning on the Tv.

Jake made dinner rather fast, and the two of you sat across from each other at the table eating in silence. It was a comfortable silence, but it was tense, only because you were paranoid that Jake knew more than he was letting on.

You kept eyeing him, and he kept eyeing you.

Mid-bite, Jake sat down his fork and dabbed his lips. “Go lay down. I’ll be with you in a bit.”

“Jake-”

“Go. to. Bed.” He said more sternly.

You sighed in defeat and left your half-eaten dinner on the table to go to your bedroom where you sat, waiting nervously. Maybe it was government property and Jake didn’t want you fooling around. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to have it at all. Either way, the anxiety flowing through your veins had you stiff and staring at the door.

The kitchen light went off and you heard the creaking of his footsteps walking closer until they stopped. You waited a few moments and took a deep breath, fiddling with your fingers as you waited on your lover.

Suddenly, a large blue figure ducked into the room and you gasped. Jake moved to take the shoes off his alien, then his jacket, then his shirt. He sat on the bed in only his cargo pants.

He had to lean on one shoulder for support, but other than that he was staring right at you.

“Jake what is this?” You asked, avoiding eye contact with him.

“So you can stop sneaking in the room everyday to investigate. I'm giving you an opening to do your exploring.”

“Jake i'm not-”

“When I transferred to this body I felt your touch everywhere at once…except one spot. I know you girl, and I know you're aching to see what's down there.”

You gulped and stared at him unmoving. He had caught you, and the worst part of it all is that he was right. He didn't even miss a beat. “Lay down.” He shifted up and you looked at him with eyes that were bugged out of your head.

“What?”

He huffed and moved your legs so you were laying on your back looking up at him. He reached over to turn off the lamp and leave the two of you in the dark. The only source of light was the skyline of the city glimmering outside, and the bioluminescent freckles that scattered his face and bare torso.

You watched him intently as he repositioned your legs so they were spread and bent. You let out a shaky breath as you felt his large thumb rub up and down your clothed cunt.

This wasn't how you expected you two to get intimate once he returned, but Jake was always full of surprises. He looped his index finger around the thin fabric of your panties and pulled them to the side, holding them in place as he leaned down and placed a peck on your damp lips.

You let out a strangled moan before biting your lip to muffle the sounds that spilled from your mouth. Jake delved his tongue partially into your wet hole, letting out airy moans as he did so.

“Fuck you taste so good.” He heaved. “Missed this pussy…” He mumbled as he pressed himself into your groin and sucked harshly on your clit. You grabbed the top of his head and squirmed under his grip. The feeling of a large, warm, foreign mouth that coated your entire pussy had you shutting your eyes tightly and shaking.

“Give me one. C'mon you got it.” He said, raising his head to look at you. You didn't meet his gaze, cursing and shaking dramatically as he ran his hand up your thigh to grab your ankle.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck!” You wormed your body around and Jake moved his head with your groin as he ate you out through your orgasm. Once panting, he sat up and stood at the edge of the bed.

He unbuckled his cargo pants and you watched with lidded eyes as he dropped them to the ground. Your eyes grew wide seeing his large erect member. You instinctively closed your legs once he planted himself above you again.

“I’ll be gentle.” He reassured you, pressing tender kisses to the nape of your neck.You let out a shaky breath which turned into a moan feeling his tip run along your slick. You bit your bottom lip, knowing that trying to fit him in would be a struggle.

“Tell me when to stop.” He mumbled, beginning to push himself in.

The stretch of him burned, causing you to let out a short whimper and place your hand on his chest. “Jake- S- It's too much!” You exclaimed.

Jake stopped and shushed you, leaning down to lock lips with you, and you returned the affection. Maybe it was because you had gotten used to your fingers and toys after all these years, but you felt more sensitive to his touch.

“It’s just the tip.” He said quietly, placing his large hand on your cheek. You felt slightly embarrassed having such a large reaction to just the tip, but you realized he was awkwardly laying there, a good distance away, meaning you had a lot more to go.

“Here.” He said placing his hands under your knees and pushing them pack, spreading you wide in front of him.

“Jake!” You exclaimed, feeling exposed.

“You always opened up for me when I folded you like this.” He spit down at your cunt and ran his tip along your folds to spread the saliva around. You moaned and looked up at him. Jake made eye contact with you and pushed into you again, sliding in a bit easier than before. The stretch was still intense, and you dug your nails into his biceps.

“Wait. Wait.” You panted.

“Halfway.” Jake sloppily kissed your lips and pushed simultaneously to kill two birds with one stone. Luckily you were in your own home, or else the entirety of the city would hear your pathetic whines and pleas. Jake grunted once he bottomed out, rolling his hips to stretch you out more.

You threw your head back and let out weak sobs, ones of exhaustion. Jake was extremely patient, holding himself in place so you could get used to his size. He knew that after this, sex would never be the same, but it gave him a sense of pride knowing he was the only man to have you frothing at the mouth like this.

“Jake.” You whined, letting him know you were ready for more. Jake chuckled lowly, noting how that’s the only word you’ve been able to mutter for the past few minutes. He gripped the backs of your knees and began pumping in and out of you slowly. You grunted and let out howls of pleasure, clenching around him.

He was so deep inside it drove you crazy. You don’t even remember his human self fucking you this good and deep. Jake furrowed his eyebrows, locking in and focusing solely on your pleasure. He swallowed back his own desire to come and thrusted more intensely, making sure to connect his pelvis with yours each time.

Jake knew you were coming once you grew silent. Gritting your teeth together and taking every one of his deep strokes. He slowed himself down, torturously stroking your walls which made you break your silent spell and let out a long, low groan.

“Jake baby I can't-!” You threw your head to the side and allowed your muscles to contract, and your pussy to clench. Jake let out moans of his own, quickly pulling himself out and coming all over your cunt and sheets below.

The two of you vocally rode out your orgasms, sounding a harmony to anyone who may hear a peep outside of the apartment.

Jake rolled off of you and panted, using his limp arm to pull you close. You couldn't muster the strength to close your legs completely, so you just threw one over his waist, nuzzling your face into his chest.

[remusluvr]

everybody wants to rule the world | steve harrington

summary: Sometimes it takes a life-threatening event for people to finally admit their feelings. content: female reader, jealousy, angst, Vecna, a singular kiss, a love confession, unedited, usage of y/n

He's protective of her. You notice it right away, the way that his eyes linger longer on her when she's walking away. When something bad happens, he glances over to see if she's okay. He doesn't do that with you. No, not even after months of you don't even know what to call you and Steve.

You two are not dating, but you're also not hooking up. You go to each other for comfort, especially after everything that happened at Starcourt Mall. Maybe he had never even seen you as an option for romance. Maybe you're simply just friends. Friends that have so many sleepovers it should be illegal. Friends that cuddle up together at usually any chance they get. Friends that go off just them two during hangouts with others to be alone. Friends that call each other the sweetest nicknames. Just friends.

But you watch the way Steve is with Nancy. It's so obvious how much he misses her. It makes your entire body ache at the idea of not being just friends with him anymore because he's realized he still loves his ex-girlfriend.

Why shouldn't you think that? He's barely even spared you a glance at all during your adventures around town trying to figure out a way to defeat Vecna with El out in California. Nancy is always right there, soaking up his attention.

When he gets pulled down into the water, she's the first to jump right in as you fumble around, trying to calm your heartbeat. Steve could be dying and you are trying to not have a panic attack instead of doing something about it like Nancy. He deserves someone like Nancy, is what you tell yourself over and over and over again. Steve and Nancy deserve each other. Secretly, you wish that they won't figure that out. That he won't leave you completely in the dust.

"Maybe after we're all done saving the world, we could all go out or something. Y'know, me, you, Robin, Jonathan, when he gets back, and (Y/N)," Steve suggests to Nancy as she picks cobwebs out of his mess of hair. You're just around the corner and hear me fumbling over his words. He must really miss her.

Ignoring the sting of tears that are fighting to escape you come into the room, following after Robin. Steve looks at you for what must be the first time in days but you can't look at him. It makes your stomach twist.

You feel stupid for thinking that you and Steve could ever be more. Swallowing the lump in your throat you mumble how you're gonna take a step outside. No one acknowledges you.

It's absolutely disgusting out here and you take a seat on the upside-down version of the house's front step. You wrap your arms around your knees, laying your cheek on them just to get a moment's break from everything. You want to sob your entire heart out. Everything has been way too overwhelming lately.

"What are you doing out here?" Robin asks as she steps through the front door. You glance back and shrug.

"Don't know. Just needed a break," you sigh, turning back to lay your head down on your knees again. She hums, sitting down beside you. You enjoy her company but right now you just wish you were alone. "Hey, do you think-"

"(Y/N)?" Robin calls out as she turns your body towards her. You're frozen, eyes rolled to the back of your head. She screams for Steve and Nancy who come barreling out.

"What happened?!" Steve shouts, rushing toward you. He's shaking as his hand press down onto your shoulders. "We need music. Please tell me someone has some type of tape."

He can't stop looking at you hoping that you can see him despite knowing that you can't. You're somewhere else completely.

--

There are vines covering the walls of your childhood bedroom and you can hear your father calling from downstairs. You're freaking out because this is not where you just were, sitting outside with Robin.

The realization of what is happening kicks in. You need to get out. Going for the window, you find it boarded up. You race down the stairs, past your "father" who is screaming at you like he always did when you were little and your aim is for the front door. However, boards fly over it just as you get close enough.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to get out of here," an eerie voice calls out. It's booming and you wonder if the others are also able to hear it. Despite Vecna's warning, you try at the door anyway.

--

"Please tell me someone has the new Tears for Fears album! Please!" Steve shouts, looking frantically at Nancy and Robin who shake their heads. "No, no, no."

--

"Baby?"

"Steve?" Despite all that's happened up to this moment, hearing Steve's voice is like a miracle. You rush through the newly unboarded back door of your house. "Steve!"

Vecna is playing games with you, now putting you at the edge of Lover's Lake. You see Steve's car, rushing toward it when you notice people inside. For just a moment, there is visible relief in you but it drains quickly as you notice who the people are. Steve and Nancy.

Tears spring into your eyes as you notice they're making out. Your voice is quieter as you call out for him. He looks over, smirks before turning to kiss Nancy one last time.

"Why would I choose you over her? I love Nancy, not you," Steve taunts, walking toward you. You cry as he approaches you, cradling yourself in your own arms. "You mean nothing to me."

--

"Max!" Steve screams as she, Lucas, and the rest of them show up. She runs up, frantic. "Do you have the new Tears for Fears album?!"

"I-I have their one new song. Fuck, it's um- it's Everybody Wants To Rule The World."

He practically rips it from her when she holds it out, shoving the headphones over your ears. Steve wants to throw up, and cry, and throw himself into the nearest body of water. He'd do anything to make sure you were safe right now. He listens to the faint sound of your favorite song, hope filling his body.

--

You look around as the opening to your favorite song booms out. And then, suddenly, everything is red and there are spikes everywhere.

"Welcome to your life. There's no turning back. Even when we sleep, we will find you."

Spinning around you notice an opening out in the distance. It's now or never. You see your friends surrounding you, Steve with his hands pressed over the pair of headphones over your head.

"There's a room where the light won't find you. Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down. When they do, I'll be right behind you."

You watch as your body starts to float into the air and Steve goes crazy.

"Steve!" you scream but nothing comes out of the body he can see. The opening back to safety opens up more and you start to sprint toward it, not stopping even as Vecna tries to stop you with falling rocks.

"All for freedom and for pleasure. Nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world."

--

You focus on running, jumping through the opening as the last of the song plays. You fall from the sky but Steve is there to catch you, cradling you into him. His eyes clench shut as he holds you to him, both of your breathing still not returning to normal.

"You're okay, baby. You're okay," he whispers, kissing the top of your head. The others back off a little as Steve helps you calm down. You cry into his chest and he wishes that he could comfort you for as long as you need. But, you're still in the upside down and Vecna obviously knows that you're here.

You've gotten so lucky and both of you know that. He could've easily never been able to hold you ever again. He vows to never take an eye off of you again.

Steve knows he's been preoccupied. He knows he hasn't been treating you the best. And there is nothing more he wants than to tell you how he feels. He doesn't love Nancy.

He loves you.

You come out of your hiding place that is his chest and wipe at your tears. His hands are firm at the sides of your face as his eyes do a scan over your whole self.

"I-I'm sorry, Steve," you whimper out and his heart breaks.

"Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?"

"I don't know. For worrying everyone, I suppose."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. Holy fuck, don't you dare apologize. I'm so glad you're okay," he says whilst smiling down at you. You smile back but pull away from him.

"I'm just gonna take a minute to myself," you mumble and start walking in the opposite direction from him but he's quick to catch you.

"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight ever again then you're crazy. I didn't even know you were out here. When Robin screamed that something was wrong with you, it felt like I was going to die. I can't let something bad happen to you again."

"Steve. I'm okay, thank you for helping me. I just need a minute. You can go back to talking with Nancy." You don't believe him. Yes, he was probably scared but so were Nancy and Robin. Everyone was scared. You wouldn't want that to happen to anyone standing around the front of this house but that doesn't mean you love them in that way. You pull your arm from his grip continuing to walk away from him and it takes him a minute before he jogs to catch up with you.

The two of you are further from the group now. Your conversation is more private.

"(Y/N), I don't want Nancy. I thought I did, I won't lie. I did think that but I want you. Not her. We never worked and we won't ever work. You mesh so well with me, perfectly if I say so myself. We work. And I love you. I need you to know that because I love you so much and thinking that I'd never be able to tell you that made me want to join you in Vecna's trap just so he could take me too," he confesses. You stare at him, his hair all messed up and his clothes dirtier than ever. He thinks he's said the wrong thing and just as he thinks to backtrack on his confession you kiss him.

His head is spinning, but in a good way now as you kiss him and he kisses you. He smiles against your lips and it's like you're in a dream.

"Stevie, I love you too."

He feels like the king of the world.

[mitsuyeaah]

after party.

— shuji hanma x f! reader

cw: rock star!hanma, nsfw (mdni), smut, car sex, creampie, multiple orgasms (two), overstimulation, pet names (doll, baby), typical hanma behaviour

a/n: no explanation needed. just indulge in mitsu’s hanma thoughts.

“ah, of course, i couldn’t have done this without m’one and only. care to come up here, doll?” shuji panted into the mic. he had just finished his last song for the night and was doing a short closing speech. it’s only been a few months since he revealed that he was in a relationship with you, but you two had been together for two years now.

your jaw almost dropped to the floor as he said that, heart racing as the crowd screamed in excitement. you didn’t know if it was from excitement or anger if you were being honest, there were just too many people there. well, what could you say? your boyfriend was that big of a star. the charisma he had on stage was impeccable, easily capturing the hearts of many many fans that would kill to be in your position.

making your way past the security and up the stairs, shuji escorted you across the stage while holding your hand. the lights that beamed onto the stage were absolutely blinding, and you had to squint a bit to get used to it. it made everything else disappear, like it was just you and shuji there on the stage and no one else, despite the roaring of the crowd.

there was nothing behind him but the glare of the white light. his singular gold drop earring swaying and sparkling with every movement. the guitar strapped across his back now lay on the floor of the stage. confused, you were about to ask him what he was doing.

as soon as the two of you were in the middle of the spotlight, shuji did not hesitate to pull you into a kiss. a passionate one at that—one that should be reserved from the prying eyes of the fans and media. his hand was buried into your hair as he eagerly moved his lips against your own, head angled to the side so he could press his face further into you.

adrenaline coursed through your veins, the screaming of the fans muffled into nothingness as you focused on your boyfriend in front of you. his other hand rested on your hip, sensuously rubbing circles over your clothes as he darted his tongue out to lap at your own.

you knew why shuji was doing this. when his fans received the news that he was no longer in the market, many of them were angered and sent unnecessary hate towards you. it was immature to say the least. who were they to dictate one’s relationship? shuji did this to let everyone know that the love between the two of you wasn’t just a spark, it was burning. and it wasn’t going to die down any time soon.

you moaned into the kiss and tightly gripped at the collar of his onxy leather jacket. at this point, you didn’t care if there were hundreds and thousand pairs of eyes that witnessed this. you just wanted shuji. the two of you pulled away from each other to catch your breaths, resting your forehead against his while you stared into his amber eyes.

“now, everyone knows you’re mine and i’m yours, doll. just focus on me and no one else.” shuji whispered loud enough for you to hear.

but just like everything, the tender moment you two shared immediately came to an end when you felt something soft hit your backside.

your eyes widened as you turned around and saw a pair of red lacy bra sitting just right next to your feet. shuji laughed hysterically behind you and reached for the undergarment, “mmm, red. my favourite colour, right doll?” he spoke into the mic; he hooked one of the straps around his finger to dangle it in front of your face, a smug grin plastered on his own.

you knew shuji was playing around with you, teasing you but you didn’t find it funny. you really didn’t mind fans occasionally throwing their bras on the stage when your boyfriend performed—yes, at first it bothered you but you grew accustomed to it. it wasn’t like shuji kept them anyway.

but it was a different conversation if fans threw it on you instead. it was more of a threat. especially after the amount of backlash you and shuji had gotten after revealing your relationship to the media. some fans were disappointed but a fair share were also very supportive which warmed your heart.

shuji saw the familiar look on your face. you were displeased. he cleared his throat into the mic and quickly bid the crowd good night before ushering the two of you backstage. you walked a few steps ahead of your boyfriend; you weren’t fuming, just annoyed that he did that. he easily caught up to you with how long his legs were and draped a sweaty arm around your shoulders, his leather jacket long gone as soon as the two of you entered his dressing room.

god, how was he able to arouse you and annoy you in a span of just a few minutes?

“you look annoyed.” he mused. you groaned and pushed his heavy arm from your shoulders, “you’re sweaty. and no shit, i didn’t ask to get a bra thrown at me.” shuji chuckled as you sat on the couch of his dressing room, crossing your legs and arms as you slightly glared at him. “why did you even dangle it in front of my face..” another chuckle slipped past shuji’s lips as you let out a huff.

“doll, stop acting like you’ve never felt my sweaty body against yours, and i was just teasin’ ya.” he kneeled in front of you. his index finger and thumb gripping your chin to turn your head to his. you held his citrine gaze for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at him and shaking his fingers from your face.

shuji clicked his tongue and stood up but before he could say anything, the door suddenly opened, it was shuji’s manager. “we’re having an after party to celebrate the success of your concert. you will be there, right? your friends are attending too.”

shuji let out a hum, he stared at your stoic expression for a moment before shaking his head. “nah, i’ll pass up on that. my doll and i are going to have a party ourselves.” your brows shot up, shuji was never the one to turn down an invitation, especially an after party. a wild one. his manager groaned, “but it’s for you! and we can’t have a party without the star..”

“oh c’mon, i’m sure y’all can live through it. make something up, i don’t know. i’m going to spend this night with my baby.”

you tried your best to keep your stoic expression up by rolling your eyes at him again and pretending like you didn’t care but in all honesty, you were squealing on the inside. you didn’t expect shuji to bail on the party and spend the rest of his night with you only.

the two of you were inside his van, patiently waiting for his chauffeur to take the two of you back home to his high rise apartment.

“are you still upset about that whole ordeal earlier?” shuji turned to face you from his seat, his eye scanning your side profile as you mindlessly scrolled through social media. your notifications were blowing up thanks to your friends sending you articles and pictures of that little stunt shuji pulled earlier. he definitely knew how to make a headline.

“i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t mean to make you feel like that..” he extended an arm over to you and placed his slender hand on your thighs when you didn’t reply, squeezing at your exposed supple flesh.

you bit back a small moan as you felt his hand curve inward to rub along your inner thigh, gradually inching higher and higher until his hand disappeared under your skirt and dangerously near the apex of your legs. you let out a small sigh as shuji rubbed the side of his pink against your clothed panties, “shuji..”

“hmm? what’s wrong, doll?”

you cursed underneath your breath as he put more pressure, this time directly on your clit which caused your cheeks to warm. your hips instinctively bucked up at his hand, you wanted more. “fuck, i want you.” you let go of the stoic mask that you’ve been trying to hold on to and finally held shuji’s gaze, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

his free hand patted his thigh, one brow raised at you. of course you knew what that meant.

you eagerly climbed onto his lap with your back pressed against his clothed chest. shuji rested his chin on your shoulder while his hands rubbed up and down your waist. “is my girl sulky? guess i have to show her that i belong to her and her only, huh?” he mumbled against the skin of your neck. goosebumps formed as his lips ghosted over the sensitive spot.

“my god, just fuck me already..” you let out an impatient huff as you rested your head on his shoulder to give shuji more access. he gave you a low chuckle that sent vibrations down your neck before his hands swiftly slipped under your skirt and practically tore your panties apart, earning a loud gasp from you.

shuji tapped on your thigh and you lifted yourself up a bit so he could pull his pants down just enough to get his hard cock out from its restraints. “hmm? so wet f’me already..” his citrine eyes rolled to the back of his head as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your wet folds—lips parted and head thrown back against the headrest.

one hand firmly held your hip to guide you down his cock. you could feel his grip tighten as you sank down, shuji let out a loud shameless groan as your tight walls hugged him just right. fuck, you were so perfect for him. your body slumped against his as he bottomed out with his balls touching your folds.

it wasn’t your first time having sex with shuji but fuck, he was so long that you always needed a few seconds before proceeding, and due your position, his tip was already deliciously kissing that sweet spot inside you. you practically had to reach back and stop him from moving around because you swore you could almost cum right then and there.

“fuuuck, you’re so deep.” “good thing you like it deep, don’t you, doll?”

before you could snicker at his response, shuji held your hips in place and started thrusting his hips up without warning. “a-ah, fuck! shuji—ngh! baby, slow down!” with how powerful his thrust were, you were one hundred percent sure that the van was visibly shaking, and people in the parking lot wouldn’t have to guess much with what activity was happening inside.

the sound of squelching and skin slapping bounced around the walls of the van. the cool air inside the vehicle immediately turning hot, heavy and damp, causing the windows to quickly fog up.

not knowing what to do with your hands, you cupped your breasts through the fabric of your shirt, squeezing them to increase the pleasure you felt.

“tsk, you dirty girl.. my cock isn’t enough for you, huh?” shuji’s voice trembled with pleasure. he removed both his hands from your hips and circled them at the back of your knees so that both legs were hooked on his arm. your legs were in the air now, his arms pressing them further into your chest to expose your wet cunt.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the position as shuji’s cock reached a whole new level of deepness. you were trapped in his hold and there was nothing you could do but sit there and take the entirety of his cock and his relentless thrusts. “ah! ah! ngh—ah! s-shuji!” your moans increased in volume and pitch, causing your boyfriend to click his tongue at your loudness.

he adjusted his torso to snake his right hand further upwards, shoving his middle and ring finger into your mouth to silence you. it was such a sight to see. shuji’s slender fingers that donned gold rings shoved into your mouth; his cock deliciously pounding in and out while your legs hung in the air, held by his arms.

you moaned around his fingers, occasionally licking and sucking on it like it was his cock. shuji breathlessly cursed under his breath as he felt your tongue swirling around his slender digits. “fuck, doll. taking me so fucking well—ah! shit! you gonna cum f’me?” he moaned, his voice now an octave lower.

you let out broken hums of agreement that were in-synched with every thrust of his hips. you didn’t trust your brain and mouth to work together to form a coherent sentence at this point because the only thing in your mind was how good shuji was fucking you. your thighs were burning from being held up for this long and you couldn’t feel your feet anymore but you didn’t care.

“yeah? go on, then. cum for me, doll..”

you arched your back at the pleasure that engulfed your whole body, the string of moans that threatened to escape your throat were muffled by shuji shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth. tears spilled from your eyes as you came around his cock, your cunt deliciously gripping him like a vice for a few seconds, causing his hips to stutter.

shuji rode out your orgasm by quickly rubbing your clit with the hand that was previously shoved into your mouth. fuck, no wonder why he was so good at playing his electric guitar. his lips left hues of dark red and purple on the side of your neck as he drove you to overstimulation.

“fuck fuck fuck! shuji! i can’t! ngh—ah!” “n-not yet, doll.. just a bit more—fuck! i’m cumming!”

shuji gave you a few more strokes before shoving the entirety of his cock inside you to unload his cum, all while rubbing tight circles on your clit. he moaned against your neck, a string of profanities tumbling from his lips as he reached his orgasm.

“ah—shit! yeah.. that’s it, so so good f’me..”

you bit your lip at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up and seeping out of your wet cunt. your eyes clamped shut as you could feel another orgasm sneaking up on you since shuji was still rubbing on your clit.

you let out short high pitched moans, legs trembling with pleasure as you came around his cock once again. the pleasure was more intense this time round and you swore to the universe above that you saw stars in your vision.

shuji kissed at the dark hues on your neck, whispering endless praises against your skin as you came down from your second orgasm. he gently placed your legs back down and stroked your thighs, as if he knew how badly they burned from the position.

“what an after party that was.” he let out a breathless chuckle. all you could muster up was a light hum with how spent you were but shuji didn’t mind, he knew how much he tires you out during sex and if he was being honest, he wore it like a fucking medal.

© mitsuyeaah