#the thirsty dead gif

[atomic-chronoscaph]

TGIF

[victoryrifle]

Arthur taking a bath in Strawberry

[jdms-flat-ass]

the current mood:

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I swear, I can’t form coherent thoughts when I see him swinging that thing around. 🥵

[x-heesy]

My best friend is an animal

Be prepared 😂 🍹

CSS - Alcohol @derflaneur 😂

[wildsaltair]

Russell Crowe as Cort // The Quick and the Dead (1995)

[blackkittiesinabox]

me when i get to go collect a cup of room temperature water from the sink in the special ed class every class period knowing its the only thing ill consume all day until i go home

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned. 

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons. 

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence. 

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them. 

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight. 

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached. 

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat. 

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’ 

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far. 

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you. 

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief. 

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos. 

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. 

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you. 

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’ 

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

[atomic-chronoscaph]

TGIF

[slvtforoldermen]

Older!BF!Joel who feels as though he needs to keep you safe, and would literally kill the equivalent of a whole QZ for you

Older!BF!Joel who watches you do your jobs in admiration, thinking you’re so cute and pretty as you work

Older!BF!Joel who gets protective when you get hurt, even if it’s just a scrape

“Joel, I’m fine” “No, I’m putting you on bed rest now…”

Older!BF!Joel who doesn’t like to admit that he loves when you play with his hair

Older!BF!Joel who hates everyone but you

Older!BF!Joel who gets possessive when he sees a guy your age look your way

Older!BF!Joel who slightly grasps your waist because he despises PDA but needs to show that motherfucker who owns you

Older!BF!Joel who is dead silent when you interact with a guy who’s been eyeing you up all night, even though you’re too innocent to even notice, or so he thinks…

Older!BF!Joel who is making out with you the minute you close the door to your home

Older!BF!Joel who eats your pussy on the couch and makes you beg him to make you come

Older!BF!Joel who bends you over, pulling your hair, spanking you every few minutes and then sticking his index and middle finger into your mouth

Older!BF!Joel who is so condescending: “My pretty little girl can’t think for herself huh?” “Nooo, don’t you run away, you stay here and let me fuck you like you wanted” “So good for daddy, that’s right sugar, yeah you are, good little whore.” “Can’t do it yourself baby? Yeah? It’s alright babygirl, I’ll rub your little clit for you…”

Older!BF!Joel who has a dacryphilia kink and turns you over just to see you cry, before he coos down at you and wipes away your tears

Older!BF!Joel who slaps your pussy after he cums inside you

Older!BF!Joel who loves to see you fucked out, brain foggy as you stare up at him with glazed eyes

Older!BF!Joel who massages your thighs when they’re sore because of his weight on you

Older!BF!Joel who tilts your chin up to help you drink some water after because he doesn’t want his girl to go thirsty

Older!BF!Joel who pulls you into his chest and whispers sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I just watched this scene and I swear my ovaries descended from my body to melt into a steaming puddle of estrogen on my freshly mopped floors.

Sir. You have no right.

Unless you do. And then you have every right.

I mean it’s up to you, really.

I’m a good girl, I swear.

[foxy-eva]

Hi do you still do fic recs??? Cause if you do I would LOVE some with either an unsub!reader or psycho!reader! :)

Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader Fic Recs

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by @incognit0slut (18+): This isn’t a love story. This isn’t a fairytale. This is about a woman bent on setting the world on fire and the FBI agent assigned to her case, drawn to the very flame she ignites.

Icarus and the Moon by @imagining-in-the-margins (18+): Spencer and Unsub!Reader have had a not-so-friendly rivalry that turns even more dangerous when they start to fall in love.

Protége by @/imagining-in-the-margins (18+): Spencer learns something very interesting about his friend when a prolific serial killer winds up dead.

My Baby's got a Gun by @writer-in-theory (18+): Of all the agents, they never expected Spencer to get caught in an unsub's web - most dangerous of all, they never expected it to be her.

Where Nobody Knows by @fortheloveofwonderland (18+): Spencer understands the concept of Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome, he just never expected to be experiencing it himself.

Midnight by @/fortheloveofwonderland (18+): When Spencer Reid left the BAU after his stint in prison to pursue a more unsavoury career path, the last thing he expected was to have company on his journey. But after finding yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, you become entangled in Spencer’s murderous web and the inadvertent Bonnie to his Clyde.

Flirting with the FBI by @reiderwriter (18+): Spencer is getting annoyed with Unsub!Reader and decides to discipline her when he finally finds her

The Daisy and the Bee by @sinfulspencer (18+): When Spencer Reid is sent to look after a serial killer, he learns she might be into him. And he might be just as interested in her.

The Black Dahlia by @sinfulspencer (18+): After her escape from prison, Reader has changed and she's thirsty for revenge. Spencer can't help, but fall for her even more. Even harder.

Too Close to Home by @snixkers: The unsub was an officer, but they didn't realize which one.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ EVERWINTER WITHOUT MERCY — TARTAGLIA.

contents. fluff + established relationships, fishing with ajax’s siblings bc they’re everything <3, ajax being a terrible flirt lolsjdjd, he’s implied to be taller than reader, gn! reader, kisses in the snezhnayan cold <3

he’s done it again, you think exasperatedly—teucer’s neck is bare as he walks through the harsh snow, the fabric of his scarf hanging loosely from his shoulders.

“hey, make sure you keep this around your neck,” you scold, wrapping the scarf tightly around teucer’s neck, “you’ll catch a cold.”

he groans a little—but he’s a good kid, listens to you when you tell him enough times, leaning into your hand as you ruffle his hair. you smile fondly as you look down—and then a weight presses against you from behind.

“yeah, teucer,” ajax hums, “you don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

“i won’t,” the younger boy insists, “colds are for the weak.”

ajax laughs. you can feel the rumble from his chest against your back as he murmurs, “it’s colder than usual teucer. make sure you keep it on.”

“that goes for you too, y’know,” you huff, spinning around to stare unimpressed at him as his own scarf is loose around his neck—ajax has the decency to at least attempt to look guilty.

“oh, i guess you’re right,” he nods, “can’t set a bad example for the kids.”

“and you can’t get sick,” you scoff, “i’m not in the mood to get sick from you.”

“i never get sick,” he says confidently with a wave of his hand, “but—” he starts with a drawl. his words as sickeningly sweet, enough to make your head spin a little from how decadent it is, “it does always stay in place when you do it.”

of course. he’s loosened it on purpose, just so you’ll wrap it for him. he’s exhausting, just a bit—as sly as he is painfully obvious, and it never ceases to make your eyes roll in that way he loves. in that way that makes him chuckle as he leans down a little closer, brows raised.

so you sigh—but there’s the beginning of a smile on your face, the start of a giggle in your voice as you say, “honestly, ajax. you’re shameless.”

“am i?” he grins, hands finding your hips as you reach over and secure the scarf around his neck.

it’s gentle, the way you touch him. the way you carefully work the fabric around his neck. the way you make sure it’s just tight enough to stay in place so he doesn’t catch a cold, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable.

not many people touch ajax gently—he doesn’t want them to, even. he needs the rush of people giving him their worst, just so he knows he can give it back tenfold. but you…well, he likes that soft way you trace his cheek with your thumb. that careful way you brush a few strands of hair from his face and admire his eyes for a moment.

they’re cold most of the time, his eyes—dead without a shine. not around you, though. in fact, you think the stars create themselves right there in his pupils and reflect across the sky. it makes being away from him a little less unbearable, you suppose: when it feels like the stars are his and he brings them to you.

it makes it feel like he’s not so far away.

“there,” you mumble quietly, cupping his cheeks once you’re done. he looks adorable, you think, wrapped tightly in a long coat and a thick, red scarf. he looks comfortable enough that you can’t help but squeeze his cheeks together a bit as you giggle. “all warm,” you smile.

“but my lips, i’m afraid,” he sighs dramatically, “are achingly cold in this harsh, snezhnayan weather. if only there was some way to warm them up.”

he eyes your lips hungrily—a little thirsty in a way that makes you wonder just how insatiable ajax really is. something about him always seems thirsty for more, always ready to devour in a way that makes you wonder if there’s a side to him you haven’t quite yet seen. a more carnal one, perhaps. or maybe, one that’s helplessly in love, that he never quite gets enough.

you like to think it’s the latter.

“teucer is right there, ajax,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“so now it’s a crime to show affection to those you love?” he gasps, “you want teucer to grow up unable to show his true feelings?”

“no,” you deadpan, “i want teucer to grow up less of a handful than you.”

“i’ll be less of a handful if you warm my lips,” he chuckles, boyish and young and all the things he should be. all the things the world should let him be. “they’re bitterly numb, right now.”

and…well, you can’t deny him—you never could. so you shake your head and trace the swell of his cheek one more time with your thumb, rubbing warmth back into his skin even as the harsh blows of frigid air slice against him.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s warm in your hold. it never won’t be.

“you’re insufferable,” you huff through a laugh.

and then you kiss him, delicately so. your lips press against his perfectly enough that it never felt like he was away. it feels like you kissed him yesterday and the day before that. it’s so familiar, you don’t need to ingrain the feeling into your memory for when he inevitably leaves again. you’d never forget the way ajax feels—not how he tastes or sounds when you meet him, skin to skin.

he hums against you, traces circles into your hips with his thumbs as he pulls you closer by the waist.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s bearable in ajax’s warmth. it never won’t be.

“much better,” he nods as he pulls away, “i feel warm already. but you should stay close by…you know, just in case i get cold again.

“well, lucky for you—”

“are we going to fish now?” teucer calls, tonia and anthon waiting patiently in the distance. ajax sighs—you giggle, leaning closer and pressing one last peck to his lips.

“well, let’s not keep them waiting,” you grin, “i’ll keep you warm later.”

he grins widely at that, raising a brow. “is that so? well then, i’ll hold you to that.”

he has stolen my heart and i am deeply unwell. painfully. sickeningly. psychotically. unwell.

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Manipulative

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, past oc x f!reader.

summary: he’s fallen way too deep, and he knows that.

a/n: i am in no way romanticizing nor defending his actions, he sucks as a person, this is for funsies, keep that in mind. remember he’s literally responsible for mass murders of children. also this idea is cliche ik ik. but, if you want more I will do more with original ideas.

reader has somewhat long hair, BUT no other descriptions of the reader. and I don’t usually do that. just for this post:)

warnings: yandere themes, toxicity, manipulative behavior(manipulation) obsession, possessiveness, no fluff, implied/referenced murder, slight blood, narcissistic tendencies, delusion, unhealed trauma, implied stalking, mild violence.

The meadow was where you’d often go. Ever since the games, it was a stress reliever, humming some songs or even just listening to the birds chirp.

After Coriolanus was sent to be a peacekeeper, You were sent home. District 12 was your home. You sat down on the cold rock. You were more of an creative artist than musician. Sometimes you wrote songs, and sometimes you wrote poems or just stories.

But you didn’t feel like doing anything today, just admiring the breeze in front of you. You were fairly zoned out when you hear a twig snap, and turn around.

You sigh of relief.”Sorry. Still have those instincts from the games.” You rushed over, not doing much. Still in disbelief he really was there.

You didn’t expect him to be here. But here he was. “It leaves quite the impression, He chuckled. It was a long embrace, and you say,”You found me. Quite surprised.”

“You figured I would, He teased. “Not this fast, and really it was hope, You tease right back, lips on his, it was passionate and sweet, ideal for a reunion.

“The sun’s hot, come in the shade, You offer. He had some ice, now melted and offered it.”Here. For you.” “Thank you, You reply.

You were very thirsty. The moment the water hit your tongue you were in heaven. “This must be the only cold thing in November, he joked.

You laugh in response.”So, Coriolanus Snow, What are you doing in the Meadow?” You were half joking. You never were fully serious. At least until it came to your feelings for him.

“Spending some time with my girl, He replies. The word My, a possessive tone, You notice. But brush it off.

“It’s unbelievable, You admit.”Truly. But I was surprised they brought me back. I swore It was all me.” “But it wasn’t, he points out. You look at him.”Clearly they didn’t believe me.”

His lips were on yours again, long and passionate. You two hadn’t seen each other since the games ended.

“Well, It was hard to believe for me too, He admits.”Tell me what happened after.” It was difficult to recall everything. The games were a nightmare. Especially the Arena. And Mayfair.

As the two of you share the water, You couldn’t help but wonder as he told stories, exchanging them, if something was wrong.

“Poor Jessup, You say sympathetically.”He didn’t deserve that. It was you, though, wasn’t it? The one who killed Bobbin?”

“I had to, Coriolanus replied.”He tried to kill me.” “I’m not saying what you did was wrong, but I suppose killing is for survival in the Arena, You reply. Snow only nodded.

“I heard the others brag, You say.”So I know. I thought the worst happened. You know, that you were dead.”

Heading back up beside him, You still couldn’t believe he was here. Whatever relationship you had, seemed to grow.

“What have you been up to? He asks, curiously.”It’s been a while.” “It has, you laugh.”And truly, not much. A few performances here and then. At the Hob, Maude Ivory’s an amazing singer like Lucy Gray.”

For a mere moment, You were in complete bliss. And that night was a normal evening for the Covey. Your parents were killed, well, your adoptive parents. They took you in, then Maude Ivory came along, your younger sister.

You became a part of the Covey. Until of course, their murders. But you had her, at least. “You want one? A peacekeeper asks, referring to liquor.”You might need it for your performance.”

“Sure, You grin, taking a swig, not making a reaction to the bitterness of it.”You’re right. I might need it.” Lucy Gray was a beautiful singer, but tonight, let you perform.

“Are you sure? I’m not the songbird, You tease. “I’m sure, and Maude Ivory wanted you to, She sweetly says. Your cousin was always the songbird.

“Besides, I think he’d like to hear you sing, Lucy Gray smirked. You knew who she was referring to. Truly the one who knew of your relationship, but by accident.

You wore a yellow dress, not too short but not too long either, and sunflowers in your hair. You wanted to have a good impression.

You tease her,”I think he’d like to hear you.” But you went up there, guitar in hand. A talent that you and Lucy Gray both had. It was the genes, you swore.

But you amazed the crowd as you sang. You were no Songbird. But you had some talent. And the whole time your eyes were on him.

It made him feel more special, in a way. Like the only person could make you feel this happy was him. Him. You were his, at least in his eyes.

But you did a wonderful performance. You mostly did instruments and stood in the background. You didn’t sing much.

Even though you were aware he was there, you went on, even with butterflies in your stomach. It was later that evening that things went downhill.

You said goodbye, even to Coriolanus, saying,”I shouldn’t be out so late anyway. But I promise, straight tomorrow. I’m sure you have peacekeeper things to do, anyway.”

He smiles.”It’s alright. You must be tired from that performance.” You laugh, then nod, quickly kissing him, then moving along.

You didn’t notice that he followed you. He was quite literally, obsessed. Especially after hearing your sweet voice. Since finding your home in the Seam, it wasn’t hard to follow you, and pretend he was there for something else.

Sometimes, he’d meet you there. Other times, didn’t even know he was there watching. He’d call it protectiveness. But it was really a sense of possessiveness over you.

That’s what it really was.

He heard your voice in your room, you sang to yourself. You sang a love song. That wasn’t hard to understand.

He had a sense of jealousy. It was clear the lyrics wasn’t about him. A past one, maybe. It wasn’t Billy Taupe. He had Lucy Gray. So who could you mentioned?

He was bloodthirsty. Or at least, had a taste for violence. He’d never say it or admit it. It was like he was a rebel. And he hated rebels.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling this way. As you danced and sang a little. Coriolanus defended his behavior, he was being protective of you. That nobody would hurt you.

He had fallen way too deep. And he was aware. You might feel the same about him, just as equally obsessed as he was. But that night, he wasn’t looking for trouble. Not much, anyway.

Someone stood beside him, admiring your singing. “Peacekeeper, huh? The male laughed. Coriolanus turns.”Yeah. Punishment. Not a choice.”

“She’s always been a singer, the male explained.”didn’t have much faith.” He wanted to know how the male knew that.

“How do you know? Coriolanus asked, curiously. “She wrote that song about me, the male bragged and seemed proud.”One of these days she’ll get back together with me.”

You never mentioned your ex lover much. Only that he hurt you, and that he was still infatuated. You were right about that.

“She isn’t interested, Coriolanus says, coldly. His fists clenched, along with his jaw, both from the rage he was feeling.

Maybe it was his narcissistic tendencies that were showing. A feeling of shame. A feeling that, he was superior than the male standing in front of him. He’d do so much better.

And with that, he swung. He could’ve shot him. But it was the easy way. And he didn’t deserve the easy way. His blood thirst took over a little, and like Bobbin, didn’t know how far his strength would go.

He stands back, his knuckles bleeding and blood on his uniform he’d have to explain later. Maybe it was a mistake coming to visit you. Your singing had stopped.

He pants. What had he done? Standing over the body, Coriolanus realized what he truly had done. And what could he do? He didn’t want a career as a peacekeeper; but his future would be damaged even further. He had to do something.

The Lake.

It brought him good memories. Swimming alongside you and the covey. But he’d have to hide the body somewhere.

It took a lot of his strength; but didn’t wear him out to drag him to the lake. It wouldn’t be too hard hiding evidence. His body would eventually disappear and Coriolanus doubted anybody cared about him. You didn’t anymore.

And he just watched. After the blood washed off, He walked away. He left the Seam. He'd come back. But You'd be aware of it.

Morning came, and peacekeepers came knocking at your door. The whole morning was a mess. When you did eventually meet up with Coriolanus, you decided on telling him about it.

“Did you know? She asked.”I’m assuming every peacekeeper knew. The guy I used to go out with was murdered. Found in the lake.”

“We were informed today, but I wasn’t the one who found it, He lies. He did not like lying, but he had to. He held a tight grip on you.

And he wasn’t letting you go.

[little-diable]

In Another Life - Jasper Hale (smut)

After I got a sweet anon request as well as @omgbrcat lovely one, it only felt right to combine these two. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Jasper had once loved a woman, ready to marry her, but time hadn't been on their side, ripping her from their life before she could be his. But now, almost 150 years later, he runs into her again, set on keeping his promise.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, mentions death and abuse (nothing explicit), love through times, throwback to cowboy Jasper, fluff

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2.9k words)

Stars were covering every inch of the sky, twinkling above as if they were trying to communicate with him. Jasper found himself staring up at them, hands interlocked in his lap, head resting against his saddle. It had been another day filled with riding, making his way through the uneasy territory. 

He was working against time and knew that she could slip right through his fingers if he didn’t make it in time. Perhaps it was his own goddamn fault, he shouldn’t have made any promises, shouldn’t have told her that he’d find her before her parents could marry her off. 

But as her letter had found him, begging him to come home to find her quickly, he had known that their end was close, he could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue, could almost feel her salty tears pressed against his thumb as he wiped them away. She was everything he had always worked for, the one he would die for, there was no way he could lose her, not in this lifetime. 

With trembling hands he reached for his pocket, tugging on the crumpled piece he always carried with him. A picture of her, perfectly capturing that beautiful laugh he could hear ringing in his ears whenever he needed to feel her close. God, she was his everything, the one whose hand he wanted to tie to his with the ring he carried with him, the golden ring with a Jasper stone. 

“Hey,” Emmett slapped his hand down on Jasper’s shoulder, ripping him out of his thoughts. They were waiting in front of Carlisle’s office, ready to drive home together after another dull day. Jasper had his golden eyes set on a woman a few seats down from them, a woman whose sight alone could resuscitate his dead heart. 

“Do you see that woman?” He should have known that Emmett wasn’t one for small movements, staring at her all too obviously. Jasper had to bite down his groan as his eyes fluttered close for a second.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her. 

“She’s pretty, you should talk to her.” Emmett wiggled with his eyebrows, gaze flickering between Jasper and the woman, but Jasper didn’t give in, holding still as he flexed his fingers. With a sigh leaving him, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a picture Emmett had never seen before. Before Jasper could even begin to explain his distraction, Emmett had already ripped the faded-out photograph from his hands. “Damn, she looks like her!”

“She does.” Jasper’s throat felt all too choked up as if he was thirsty for blood – unable to speak before he got to feast from the red river. He had never been able to shake his grief, held back by the memories that followed him around daily, memories he had only shared with Edward, unwillingly that is. 

“(Y/n)?” Carlisle had opened the door, calling out the name as his eyes wandered from his sons to the woman sitting close. Jasper could only watch as she rose to her feet with a soft smile, walking past him and Emmett before following Carlisle inside. 

“Carlisle?” Emmett caught Carlisle's attention before the doctor could follow her inside, wordlessly asking him to come closer. The doctor murmured something to (y/n) before closing the door and stepping towards the two men. “You won’t believe this! Jasper dated a girl like her back in the day, we need to get them together!”

Emmett reached the photograph out for Carlisle to study it as Jasper rose to his feet with annoyance fuelling his every movement. Decades ago he had accepted his fate, forced to swallow down his anger to accept that he’ll never have her, holding her dead body all through the night. 

“You know,” he could only whisper the words as he held her close. “I would have asked you to marry me today. It took me a while to find a fitting ring, but I’m sure you would have liked this one, darlin’.”

With his eyes flickering down to the ring, he let go of a sigh. Her mother had cried against his chest, begging for forgiveness he hadn’t been able to grant. Time hadn’t been on his side, arriving too late to rescue her from a drunkard whose patience had run out way too quickly, ending her life before he could come to her. 

“In another lifetime I’ll marry you, I promise you that, darlin’.” 

“Jasper?” Carlisle stepped out of his office with (y/n) cautiously following him. “Would you mind showing (y/n) around? She’s new in town, I told her you could tell her a bit about the history of this place.”

He struggled to look at (y/n), remembering the face he’d see every single day, forced to accept that she wouldn’t ever be his. Jasper could only nod his head as he rose to his feet, stretching his cold hand out for (y/n) to shake. 

“Cold hands run in your family, huh?” The second he heard her voice for the first time, Jasper was sure he'd faint any second now, it had the same drawl, the same rumble he hadn’t heard ever since that time over 150 years ago. 

***

“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink, Jas?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through her apartment, preparing herself a drink as Jasper got himself comfortable on her couch. It had been a few days since their paths had crossed, instantly clicking as he had showed her around town, guided by the thick grey clouds and drops of rain. 

“I’m good, thank you, darlin’.” He loved the smile tugging on her lips whenever he called her that, enjoying the way he held the same power over her as she held over him, guiding the two closer together with every passing day. At first it had almost been scary how similar (y/n) was to her, reminding him of all those loving memories he had never been able to shake. By now he was simply grateful for getting a chance to feel (y/n) close, struggling to keep a respectful distance. 

“You’re quiet today, what’s going on in that head of yours?” (Y/n) sat down next to him, she reached for a blanket to throw over them both. Slowly she had adapted to his cold body temperature, trying to stop herself from shuddering whenever he touched her, torn between the unfamiliar longing she felt and the coldness he emanated. 

“Too many things you’d call me insane for.” The raspy chuckle clawing through Jasper spurred on her curiosity, forcing (y/n) to shuffle even closer. Her eyes wandered over his features, taking in every inch of his handsome face, but especially the lips she wanted to feel pressed against hers. 

“Now you have to tell me, you know how nosy I can be.” He felt her body pressing against his, subconsciously searching his closeness. Jasper found himself torn, torn between the chance of letting her in on the family secret, on the memories he desperately wanted to share with her, and the danger of her running from him, a danger to every member of his family. “Is it that bad? Are you secretly married with two children? Am I falling in love with a criminal?”

For a second, neither of them moved, caught by the confession she had spoken before thinking twice. Her wide eyes found his darkening ones, squealing in surprise as Jasper pulled her into her lap. Carefully he cupped her warm cheek, pulling (y/n) in for a kiss. Their lips moved in sync, careful at first, having to adjust to the new sensation as her heart kept picking up its beat, begging him to pull her even closer. 

“In love, huh?” He rasped his words against her lips, leaving (y/n) chuckling as she hid her warm face in the crook of his neck. Jasper wrapped his arms around her middle, eyes set on the window that gave view of the pouring rain, of the forest she lived close to. 

“What would you say when I told you that I have been alive for longer than you think? What would you say when I told you I have already loved you in another lifetime m?” She froze in his grasp. Jasper had expected her to break out in laughter, to make fun of him for speaking insane words like these. But she didn’t, (y/n) kept quiet in his hold as different emotions began to flush through her.

“What do you mean by that?” Slowly she pulled away, still sitting on his lap though with her weary eyes focused on his face. Jasper held eye contact as he reached for the photograph he had shared with Emmett and Carlisle days ago. Wordlessly he pushed it into her grasp, watching (y/n) study the woman with dilated pupils. “She looks like me.” 

“She does.” No further word left Jasper, unable to give room to the pain he felt, hoping that (y/n) wouldn’t run from him. 

“Tell me about her.” It felt like a joke, not understanding how (y/n) could focus on her rather than on the fact that he had told her about his age, about the life that was so different to hers. 

“She was my first love, I swore to marry her, but I was too late. She was dead before I could rescue her from the marriage she had been forced into.” Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes as her gaze flickered back down to the photograph. She traced the picture with her thumb, sharing the pain Jasper had carried deep inside of himself for decades. 

“When was that?” It was just a whisper, unable to speak with any more strength as tears began to roll down cheeks. Carefully Jasper wiped them away, softly smiling at (y/n), once again reminded of how caring she had been. 

“About one hundred and fifty years ago.” His words were followed by silence, a sillence so thick one could cut it with a knife. She didn’t move away, forced her teeth into her lower lip and kept staring at the picture. “I understand if you don’t believe me, it sounds insane, I know it does.”

“I need time to think about that.” A hum left Jasper, grateful that she hadn’t pushed him away till now. Slowly he tried to push her off his leg, set on leaving her apartment to give her enough time to think about the information he had just shared with her. “What are you doing, Jas?”

“Giving you time and space?” The confusion dripping from his words drew a chuckle out of (y/n). She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him again. This time their kiss grew heated rather quickly drawing moans and groans out of them as Jasper shifted them around. (Y/n) found herself pressed against her couch with Jasper hovering over her, not daring to part from her just yet. 

“Don’t leave me, even though I need to wrap my head around the fact that some supernatural stuff is going on around here. For tonight I just want you to hold me close, to make me yours. If you’ll have me.” A growl crawled through Jasper as she murmured the words against his lips. His hands did quick work on his shirt, pulling it over his head with hers following moments later.

“I hope you know that once I make you mine, I won’t ever let you go again. Eternity is a long time to spend together.” She was too distracted by his wandering touch to fully focus on his words, torn between the lust pushing through her and the exictement of feeling Jasper close. It was way too easy to guide her, to make her follow every command as he held her close, set on loving her through the night before he’d fuck her properly in the early morning hours. 

“Use your words, darlin’. Tell me what you want.” Her bra fell to the ground, exposing her naked chest to Jasper’s wandering eyes. He dipped his head down to suck on her hardening nipples, hands grabbing them with just enough force to leave her gasping. (Y/n) arched her front into his touch, eyes fluttering close as he kissed his way further down south. “I asked you to speak up, didn’t I? Be a good girl for me, otherwise I’ll stop touching you.”

“I want you everywhere, want your mouth, your cock.” A raspy chuckle left Jasper as his nimble fingers worked on her trousers, freeing her from them with her damp panties following. She felt like a goddess, a goddess Jasper now marvelled at with an exciting darkness laced in his gaze. His eyes flickered up to meet hers as he forced himself between her thighs, grateful for the big space her couch offered. 

His tongue ran over her arousal-covered folds, drawing high moans from her at the unexpected touch. Her bundle pulsed against his cold thumb, making her feel as if she was on fire, even though his cold hand offered the perfect contrast. (Y/n) choked on his name as he circled her clit, tongue dipping into her tightness with a satisfied groan leaving Jasper. 

He could stay between her thighs till morning rose, pushing her over the edge again and again, high on her taste, on the sounds rumbling through her. Not once had he experienced a longing this deep, wanting to hold her close till their end of time, needing to taste her at any given chance. 

“My god, Jas, you’re so good at that.” Jasper chuckled against her cunt, adding even more speed to the movements of his thumb, wanting to watch her cum on his tongue before he’d fuck her. It didn’t take long for (y/n)’s moans to grow breathy, clawing her fingernails into the fabric of her couch to hold on before she’d pass out from the intense sensation. “I’m so close, fuck, let me cum, please.”

“Let go, darlin’, cum for me.” Her first orgasm of the night clawed through her without another warning, ripping her into another dimension as Jasper supported her through it. The smile he wore on his lips was almost devilish, urged on by the chance of feasting from her. He watched her with curious eyes, waiting for her next movements, wondering where this night would lead them to. 

“Jas,” (y/n) panted his name. “I need you to fuck me now, let me feel you, all of you, I’m on the pill.” She watched him rise to his feet to shuffle out of his clothes, exposing his hard cock to her wide eyes. Her greedy hands pulled him down for a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself stuck to his tongue. She felt him brush the tip of his cock through her slit, giving her another chance to inhale a shaky breath before he pushed into her.

Both moaned in unison, clinging to one another as he twitched inside of her. Jasper started on a slow rhythm, allowing (y/n) to adjust to his size. Only as she clawed her fingernails into his shoulder, did Jasper’s thrusts grow more ferocious. Their bodies met with every thrust, letting the sounds echo through her apartment, followed by their moans. 

“You feel so good, darlin’, so fucking good.” He moaned against her lips, staring down at her with love and lust laced in his gaze. (Y/n) choked on her sobs, holding him close as her walls fluttered around him. 

Jasper pulled out of her without a warning, momentarily leaving her empty. He flipped her around, pressed her against the armrest of her couch before he pushed back into her from behind. He held her against his chest with one hand, while the other found her overstimulated clit, pushing her closer to the edge. 

They watched the rain pour from the sky as he fucked her breathless, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Jasper buried deep inside of her. She felt her orgasm about to rush through her again, tightening her grip on his forearm as she choked out his name. Jasper only groaned against the back of her neck, trying to keep himself from forcing his teeth into her skin right there and then. 

Both came with their bodies clinging to one another, with her heart racing, with sweat pooling on her forehead and his body shaking in excitement. Jasper stayed buried inside of her for a while, wordlessly holding her close to allow (y/n) to relax in his grasp. 

“If you always fuck like that, I think I can accept being in a relationship with something supernatural.” Breathy chuckles left him as he parted from her, picking her up to carry her towards her shower. He pressed a kiss to her swollen lips, and at that moment he made a silent promise to himself and to her. 

This was another chance at their life together, finally allowing him to love her in another lifetime.