#Even still the most love I see for him on here right now is like 'You're gonna have to vote for him again because he'll be the nominee'

[pathologicalreid]

gemini | S.R.

two emotionally wrought people collide at a wedding, and a sexual escapade ensues.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, use of the term "good girl" (i couldn't help myself), unprotected sex, reader on bc, alcohol, spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, lowkey idiots in love, fucking against a wall?, fingering, heavy petting, r has an oral fixation, r is wearing a dress and makeup, explicit consent (hot), public sex, i think that's all word count: 3.42k a/n: this is a little self-indulgent and i don't care! based on literally just the first line of the song gemini by del water gap. probably not ever gonna get a part two. i've never done angsty smut (smangst?) before, so this was fun.

so, here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding

Swirling the drink you held in your hand, you watched your friends as they chatted. The pink liquid in the cup, concocted by Penelope Garcia, was far too sweet for your taste, but you needed the liquid courage to make it through the wedding.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for Krystall and Dave. It was that weddings oftentimes left a bitter taste in your mouth – one so bitter that not even Penelope’s drink could offset it.

In your periphery, you saw a blur of purple in the corner, looking up to see Spencer. His hand still bandaged from his most recent brush with death, he used his free one to grip a glass of water. Raising your eyebrows, you gave him your best attempt at a smile before you greeted him, “You look good, Dr. Reid.”

He was fully donned in his favorite color, and you tried to pretend that you didn’t notice that your dress matched the purple hue of his suit. “Thanks,” he said shortly, not quite meeting your eyes.

Noting the way he was looking past you, you demurely leaned your head down, glancing over your shoulder so that you could see what he was looking at, only to see JJ. She looked gorgeous in her red dress, laughing at something her husband said before her eyes caught something.

She was staring back at Spencer, and not for the first time, you found yourself wondering what happened in that pawn shop. Bringing your eyes back up to Reid, you watched the confused look in his eyes bloom as he peeled his eyes away from JJ.

Sick of it, you spoke up, “Alright, I had dibs on being the mopey one tonight. What’s wrong?” You had wanted to brush it off as long-lasting nerves from the hostage situation, but he was acting strange.

You knew you weren’t his best friend, that was a title that JJ had been the reigning champion of since the beginning of time. Yet, you still noticed the rigidity in Spencer’s shoulders as he displayed a clear discomfort with his surroundings. You tried to think of something to say to him. How could you ask him if he wanted to get out of here without it sounding like a sexual proposition?

“JJ told me she loved me,” he said, his voice so low you weren’t even sure you had heard him correctly.

Your head snapped up, “Oh.” Swallowing thickly, you tilted your head curiously, letting loose hair tumble to the side. “Do you love her?” Likely not the right conversation for the wedding of everyone’s favorite right-person-wrong-time couple, but you were desperate for a rope to pull yourself out of your wallowing.

He took a sip of his water before setting the empty glass on the bar counter, “I did.” The admission hit you like a ton of bricks, until her continued, “but now…”

Filling in the blanks, you shrugged, “She’s married. They have kids.” Spencer was always doing the right thing, so pushing his feelings aside for the sake of JJ’s family made the most sense.

Furrowing his brows, he pondered this for a moment before speaking, “It’s not just that. I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh,” you repeated, and somehow the thought of him being in love with an unfamiliar figure hurt more than him being in love with your mutual friend.

The both of you let the conversation lag, watching as Penelope came back up to the bar and poured more drinks. After she accused you of being boring for not wanting another drink, everyone returned to the tables. “Have you dated anyone since him?”

You choked on your newly acquired water, cupping your hand underneath your jaw in an attempt to stop water from getting on your dress. “Uh, no. I’ve kind of sworn off dating ever since,” you replied, shaking your hand out and letting water droplets fall to the floor.

Sighing, you slouched in your seat, remembering that all you’d ever be was a jaded bride. Left by your fiancé on the day of your wedding, doomed to never love again. Until you met Spencer Reid.

“For everyone?” Spencer asked, and you cursed his natural curiosity.

His question caught you off guard. Despite yourself, you shook your head, “I have like… one person who, if they asked me, I’d say yes.” Your skin started to feel warm, and you weren’t sure if it was your proximity to him or Penelope’s drink coming back with a vengeance.

Spencer stepped a little closer to you, leaning casually on the counter as if he wasn’t affecting your ability to focus. “Who’s your person?” The question was innocent enough that it made your heart ache.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s into someone else,” you told him, reaching behind your neck to pull your hair up, haphazardly twisting it. You didn’t have a hair tie, so you let the locks fall once you felt some semblance of relief.

This statement seemingly bothered Spencer because he looked into his glass, “Did he tell you that?”

Nodding, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “Yeah,” maybe not in so many words, Spencer was rarely crass enough to say he was into someone, but you understood well enough.

The conversation lagged between the two of you once again, your own private thoughts were only interrupted when the music changed. It was a slow song, one for the couples of the night to dance to.

You took a chance, “Do you want to go explore the building with me? It’s getting stuffy in here,” you said, taking one final swig of your water before jumping up from your stool.

He looked back at JJ, who was there with Will, and then forward to the girl who was asking to take him away, “Yes.”

David Rossi had spared no expense for his second wedding to his third wife, and the manor that you found yourself meandering within felt never-ending. Something about following Spencer as he led the way and told you facts about the history of the building felt so normal, and you wondered if it would hurt when the night was over. Maybe this would just end as another memory to loathe about weddings.

Trailing him into another room, you stumbled into his back. Quickly, Spencer spun back and caught you before you could fall to the ground.

Steadying yourself, your heart thrummed at the way he was touching you, tightly holding your waist so that you wouldn’t trip. Once you were no longer wobbling, Spencer reached up and gingerly lifted the fallen spaghetti strap of your dress back over your shoulder. Before you had fully thought out your actions, you leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him.

It was hesitant and gentle, but once you registered that you were kissing him you soon realized that he was kissing you back. What started out as a small peck on the lips quickly morphed into full, open-mouthed kisses.

You thought Spencer might eat you alive, and for a moment, you thought you might let him.

Without separating your lips, he herded you over to the wall, pinning your hips to the wall as you felt heat grow between your legs.

Pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, Spencer pulled away ever so slightly, your faces just inches apart. “Is this okay?” He asked you, his eyes flickering down to your lips like he was holding himself back from kissing you again.

There was fear. A fear that if you moved forward tonight, nothing would ever be the same, but you took a chance  and nodded quickly, “Yes.”

Your answer acted as a release as Spencer dropped his head back down and the two of you reattached your lips. Despite your attempts to ignore it, you felt his hardened length pressing into you through several layers of clothes.

Twisting your head away, you gasped as Spencer took the opportunity to place his lips on your neck, gently suckling on the tender skin as you tried to catch your breath. “Are you sure about this?” You breathed, running your hands underneath his suit jacket, wanting nothing more than to push it off of him.

“Yes,” he answered, giving you the same consent that you had already given him, and it was enough for you to reach for his belt buckle. No matter how badly you wanted to see him entirely bare in front of you, this just wasn’t the place for it.

Gently, you slid your hand down his front, savoring the way his breath hitched against your neck as your fingertips precariously lifted the waistband of his boxers. He gently nipped at your earlobe as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock.

You let your head fall backward, allowing him better access to your neck as you moved your hand. Moving your hand up so that you could swipe your thumb over the tip.

You dragged your other hand down, pulling his boxers down so that you could get a good look at what you were working with, and biting your lip at the sight of it. Slowly, you started to pump his impressive length, noting how his breathing patterns changed with your movements.

Dragging a knuckle up the underside of him, he dropped his head to your shoulder as you collected his pre-cum on your index finger on your way up, bringing your hand up to your mouth and licking the droplet off, peering up at him.

“You’re so good at that, baby,” he told you, sighing as he reached up and placed his hand on the side of your neck, skimming his thumb over your jawline as his free hand started to make its way up your dress, pausing when he only met bare skin. “No underwear?” He questioned, furrowing his brow at you as you bit your lip, trying to refrain from pressing into his hand.

Whimpering almost indiscriminately, you shook your head, “Couldn’t, panty lines would show under the dress.”

Spencer hummed in recognition, moving his hand up to cup your sex so that you could feel your own wetness on his hand. A pathetic whine escaped your throat as your walls clenched with need, still stopping yourself from grinding on his hand. “What do you need?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, “Come on, you can tell me.”

“You, please,” you answered, your voice dangerously bordering on pleading. “Your hands, anything,” you squeaked out, breathing heavily as you awaited his next move.

Gently, he slipped a finger inside your wet hole, causing you to release a satisfied sigh. “You’re so wet,” he whispered in your ear as you tilted your head back and pressed your lips to his.

As his hand picked up in pace, so did your breathing. With each movement of his hand, you struggled to keep your volume at a respectable level, small whimpers continued escaping you even as you bit down on the inside of your lip. “Spence,” you whined, moaning aloud as he slipped a second finger into you, “Oh, god.”

The silence of the room around you only exacerbated the wet sounds that were emanating from your sex, and if it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve been embarrassed. In fact, as you felt a familiar coil winding in your abdomen, you found that you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure.

Crying out, you nodded as Spencer continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, “Fuck,” you said, caring less about your volume levels. Even less so when he responded by pressing the heel of his hand against your clit, the pressure proving to be enough to send you over the edge.

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispered in your ear, “Let it go for me, baby.” His words continued as you felt your walls spasming around his fingers, his ministrations had slowed, but he worked you through your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers and lifting them up to your mouth.

Accepting the invitation, you leaned forward and sucked the sweet juices off of his hand, slipping your tongue between his two fingers as you looked up at him. You half expected him to be watching you with lust-blown eyes, but he was watching you just as attentively as he had when you started this escapade.

He retrieved his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying pop and reached down to ruche the fabric of your dress up around your waist. “Wait,” he said suddenly, gripping the silky cloth, “I don’t have a condom.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “I don’t mind.” Still breathing heavy from your previous orgasm, you shook your head again, “I mean. I’m on birth control – and I’m good at it. I mean I keep up with it.” Now babbling, you hoped he’d say something. “I’m clean. I trust you.”

Nodding in understanding, he placed a hand on the side of your neck and looked at you intently. “I’m not going to do anything until you catch your breath,” he told you, taking up an authoritative tone.

Blinking rapidly, you evened out your breathing as he ran his hand up and down your torso, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking another deep breath as you looked up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down, pressing soft kisses down the side of your neck as you finally pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, leaning down to grip the backs of your thighs.

“It’s okay if you can’t lift me,” you rambled quickly, getting his attention as you aired your concern.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, pressing his hips into yours and lifting your feet off of the ground. The leverage that he had, along with the support of the wall behind him, allowed him to get both of your feet off of the ground. You would’ve spent more time being impressed by this feat if you weren’t so distracted by his painfully hard cock that had now slipped between your folds.

Leaning down, you desperately kissed his lips, wanting him to give you those open-mouthed kisses that you had started out with. Instead, you cried out when, without warning, his full length slipped into you.

Placing gentle kisses on your collarbone, Spencer murmured, “Are you okay?” He whispered, seeming like he was using all of his self-control to just stay still.

You nodded, feeling his cock throbbing so deep in you that you were almost afraid you’d come from just that pressure alone. “Been a while,” you murmured, taking a deep, shaky breath.

He hummed in understanding, “I’ve got you, take your time.”

His words filled your stomach with butterflies, and it wasn’t just because he was fully sheathed in you. “Spence,” you whimpered, “Move.”

On your cue, Spencer gave a tentative thrust, permitting your resulting moan to mix with his grunt. “Fuck, baby,” he said, continuing to thrust in and out of your cunt, filling the room with the crude squelching of your actions. “I’m not going to last long,” he informed you.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy, you moaned helplessly when Spencer dropped one of your legs to the ground, hooking his arm underneath your other knee, providing a new, deeper angle. You swore as the sensations started to feel overwhelming.

The new angle gave him more control over his movements, enabling him to use his free hand to pull at your breast through the fabric of your dress. As you tugged gently at his hair, you tilted your head back, “Spence, I- shit,” you cursed, recognizing the tell-tale signs of your second orgasm approaching.

If it weren’t for his words of encouragement, you would’ve been embarrassed by coming too quickly, and if anything, the words only spurred you closer to the finish line. “Come for me,” he said, thrusting harder into you as he tried to reach the same point. “Let me know how good I make you feel,” he said, continuing his thrusts until his hips stuttered.

“Coming,” you whimpered, dropping your head forward onto his shoulder as you felt your walls tightening around his hard length. Crying out as he continued to pound into you, you buried your face into his neck and nipped at the skin to muffle your sounds.

Now he was solely working toward his own orgasm, having given you two of your own. “You’re such a good girl,” he panted.

Suckling gently at the skin on his neck – not hard enough to leave a mark, you littered kisses on his sensitive skin. “Come in me, baby,” you murmured, trying to spur him on.

Your success was apparent as his movements faltered and his cock started throbbing, feeling the pulses of his cum as it filled you, your eyes rolled back at the feeling while Spencer slowed to a halt, waiting for a beat before he pulled out of you entirely.

Shuddering at the emptiness you now felt, you leaned against the wall once both of your feet were on the ground. As your legs trembled, you watched as Spencer crouched to fish something out of his jacket, leaving you with your mixture of fluids running down your legs.

As he grabbed the handkerchief from his breast pocket, you gasped slightly as you realized his intentions. “Spence, you’ll ruin it,” you insisted.

“Would you rather go back out there with my cum dripping down your thighs?” He asked, knelt in front of you with his brows raised in mock innocence.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, “Jesus.”

He chuckled, using the handkerchief to wipe up the mess the two of you had made on your legs before carelessly tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Noting the way your legs were still shaking, he lifted your chin ever so slightly, “Are you alright?”

Nodding, you offered him a tired, but genuine smile. “I’m great,” you told him, wiping underneath your eyes where you were sure there was a mess of mascara.

Taking your hand in his, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Spencer led to toward the French doors that led to the balcony, taking you out into the fresh air.

As you leaned up against the railing, Spencer shook out his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, doing his best to keep you comfortable. “Hey,” you whispered, “I really am fine. Are you? How’s your hand?” In all of the hormones, you had forgotten about his injury.

Spencer nodded, looking over the property that Rossi had rented. “I’m good, Y/N. I feel good.” You wished he’d call you baby again, but maybe that was too much to ask for. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him, recognizing the look from years of working together.

He hummed, reaching up and sweeping a strand of hair off of your forehead. “That guy? The one who told you he’s into someone else? I can confidently say he’s an idiot.”

Flushing, you smiled to yourself at the fact that Spencer was calling himself an idiot, especially when he was anything but. Shrugging, you waved him off anyway, “Nobody’s perfect, Spence.”

“No, I suppose not, but even so…” he told you, allowing his voice to trail off like he wasn’t totally sure what he wanted to say to you. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then maybe you need to turn your attention elsewhere.”

Sighing, you leaned your chin in your hand, “Thanks, but I don’t know. Maybe there is better out there, and I’m just not worth it.” No, after tonight, you’d likely never get over him. It might’ve started as a workplace crush, but you felt in your heart that it was now something deeper.

Spencer shook his head, “Now, that’s where we disagree.”

“Spencer, I can’t-“ Your voice is cut off when you hear someone calling your name from inside the building, smoothing out the front of your dress one more time, you step back into the room, coming face to face with JJ.

She smiles in recognition of you, but the grin immediately fades from her face when Spencer walks out behind you, “Hey, we’ve been looking for you guys,” she said flatly. “They’re about to cut the cake.”

Nodding, you took another quick look at Spencer before following the blonde out of the room, leaving your secret in the room behind you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #written by margot #mdni #margot after hours #softdom!spencer #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst

[dollfacefantasy]

hiii i’m not sure if you particularly like writing hybrid!reader but can i pls request something with leon where he tries to feel out his bunny/dog hybrid gf’s kinks by seeing how her tail moves in response to them. like something she really likes she’ll wag her tail real fast and he finds it adorable

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader

summary: leon plays with his precious puppy girl by watching her tail

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, humping his boot, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, scent kink, dacryphilia, and size kink

word count: 2.6k

a/n: no because i love this idea so much. it's been in my head since i got it. i hope i did it justice because i think it's so cute. thank you for sending it and i hope you enjoy <3

Leon’s eyes rested upon his favorite sight in the whole world. His precious puppy girl kneeling at his feet. If he had to guess, he’d say it was your favorite place to be too. All signs pointed to that conclusion. Your eyes were wide and locked onto his face. Your body vibrated and squirmed with the urge to jump into his lap. And of course, the way your tail wagged back and forth.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The fluffy appendage moves in a lazy rhythm right now. You were excited Leon was home and wanted to play, but you weren’t thrilled enough for it to turn to a blur. He chuckles and reaches a hand forward to rub your head. That gets it to speed up a little bit.

“You have a good day, pup?” he asks.

You scoot the slightest bit closer while nodding. You tilt your head to the side, squishing the flesh of your cheek against his knee.

“Yeah? What’d you do today?” he says.

“Took a nap. Watched the tv,” you answer, “You look tired, daddy.”

He smiles at your observation and scratches at the base of one of your ears. Those ears, which were perked up at the moment, were so sensitive to everything. The wind knocking something over outside, his car pulling up on the driveway, and of course, small changes in his inflection. 

Though he sometimes wondered if that’s all it was. He sees the way your tail picks up a notch when his lips curl upwards with that smile. He wondered, if not hoped, that it was something more than just your heightened physical capabilities. If maybe, there was something within you, something deeper, some instinctive emotional connection that bound you to him. That was probably wishful thinking. Someone who understood him implicitly. Still that was how he felt sometimes, and it was always lingering in the back of his mind when he watched your cute little ass wiggle back and forth with the movement of your tail.

“A little. Had a long day at work,” he tells you, continuing the conversation.

“Oh. Was it boring?” you inquire.

“You could say that,” he says.

“I get bored sometimes when you’re not here too,” you say.

The short, curt way you speak drives him up the wall. His hand on top of your head trails down to your cheek and gives it a little pinch before his thumb lands on your lips. Your tongue darts out to give the pad a small lick.

“Cute,” he murmurs as his fingers descend to your jawline and then your throat, “Why were you so bored, puppy? You have the whole house to yourself. You have enough toys to fill a room.”

“But I was missing my favorite toy,” you say, nuzzling against his leg.

“Oh, your favorite toy, huh?” he says. 

His fingers tease the edge of the smooth material that was wrapped around your neck. In place of a collar, you wore a pink satin ribbon. It bunched around to the front of your neck where it was tied in a pretty bow. Leon’s own handiwork. He never saw a reason to collar you. You were the most loyal little thing on the face of this Earth. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably just take up residence on the mat at the front door. He’d rather you look like the spoiled princess that you were and dress you in the pink ribbon to match the other pink items you wore, your camisole and panties.

You nod at the question he asked, the ends of your bow swaying with your motion.

“Yeah? Well, tell daddy. What’s your favorite toy?” he prompts you.

Your hand snakes up to the front of his jeans and paws at the area where you would soon feel the outline of his hardening dick.

“That’s your favorite?” he asks, feigning ignorance, “Wow. If I'd known that, I wouldn’t have bought you all those stuffies. Coulda saved me a ton of money. Just let you sit on my cock most of the time, and you’d be satisfied.”

You shrug, not caring to roll that proposition around in your head for actual consideration. Sure you loved your toys, but they didn’t come close to one tucked away inside daddy’s jeans.

He grins not only because you’re so fucking cute, but also because he can see your tail starting to go faster. As much as he wants to pull you onto his lap and breed you till you’re a mess of drool and tears, he wants more tonight. You were nothing if not eager, and while he loved that, it meant that it didn’t take much effort from you to get him to cum in minutes. You’d just get so tight, you never suppressed any of your moans or whines, your face always scrunched up into needy expressions of euphoria…

Anyways. He just wanted to tease it out tonight.

“You have been a good girl today. I think you deserve some time with your favorite toy,” he says, watching the specific twitch when he said the two words of praise, “You wanna play with it right now?”

You nod almost as quickly as your tail wags. A sonorous laugh echoes from him. His eyes hold that glint that lets you know there’s more.

“What’s your favorite way to play with it, baby? You like bouncing on it?” he asks, his voice gaining an amused lilt.

You don’t respond with words. He knows your nodding, but his focus is on your backside where he’s getting the only response he needs.

Swish.

“Maybe you like taking it face down, whining into the pillow?” he continues.

Swish Swish.

“Or maybe you like being on your back, legs over daddy’s shoulders?”

Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish.

“I think that’s the winner,” he chuckles, “Why is that your favorite, pup?”

“It gets deeper,” you say. He watches as you try to be subtle about scooching closer. He wasn’t going to stop you though.

“Oh I see,” he says, nodding his head in mock realization, “You want it as deep as possible, right? And to do that, I have to pin you down, keep you underneath me where I can just fill that pussy up over and over. You like being helpless, princess?”

As his tone becomes more husky, you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Your hips fight the urge to squirm, but your tail can’t stop flinging itself back and forth. A tingling flame had been lit inside your belly, one you desperately wanted him to put out.

“Yeah. You love when I’m in charge. You love when all you have to do is take it like a good girl, and you can just let that little brain melt away,” he taunts. With each swish of your tail, it’s like he can hear a game show buzzer ringing in his points.

You wrap your arms around his leg that was nearest to you and pathetically whimper out “daddy.”

“What is it, puppy?” he coos.

You look up at him and give him the definition of puppy eyes. “I want it. No more teasing,” you whine. Despite your demanding words, you stay put. You were a good girl after all, and good girls wait for permission.

“What? You want it?” he mocks, “What’s the rush, baby? You don’t like daddy’s voice anymore? You sure were liking it last night when you were all sleepy. Just whining and clinging onto me, begging me not to pull out.”

The movements of your tail start to become blurry as you remember the previous night. He’d fucked you so good and talked you through it the whole time. The main difference between now and then was that then you had his cock stuffed inside you while he spoke.

“I do like it,” you defend with a pout, “But I just want it, daddy. Please. Wanna be full of you.”

“Full,” he repeats, “Does daddy stretch you out? Make you feel like there’s no room for anything else?”

You nod again, but you can’t take it anymore. You scoot forward more so your knees rest on either side of his boot. His knee kisses the space beneath your chin while the rest of his leg is flush up against your tummy, going straight between your breasts. He knows what you’re about to do, but he’s fine with it. Tilting the tip of his boot upwards, he gives you silent permission to start rocking your hips.

That was all you needed to close the gap between the top of his shoe and your clothed cunt. Lowering yourself slightly, your puffy clit brushes the leather. You let out a tiny mewl. Your face was already starting to scrunch up into a cute little look from such a simple touch.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, daddy. Thank you,” you whimper.

Your hips move back and forth as if on a pendulum. The rhythm is consistent like the pacing of your tail. Back and forth, back and forth.

“I think you soaked through your panties, pretty baby. You gonna get daddy’s shoe all nice and shiny? Make it smell like you?” he says with a smug grin.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. 

But when Leon mentions scenting his boot, your tail starts going crazy. Absolutely buck wild. He wouldn’t be shocked if you sprained something from how hard it was moving. God, he was getting hard. A solid tent had formed in the center of his lap from watching you. So precious, so adorable. Those pants and whines of pure lust. The way your fingers were digging into the leg you held onto like you needed it to survive. The nonstop rutting of your hips matching up with the wag of your tail.

“Woah woah. Think my girl might be a little possessive,” he says as he watches you. He keeps his tone light. He wanted this to play out before he let himself have any. To stave off his desires, he palms himself over the rough denim.

Your eyes catch that, and it’s almost comical how you nearly drool. “I just want everyone to know you’re mine. You're my daddy. They can’t have you,” you say, nestling your face against his legs.

Your own pleasure builds in the pit of your belly. You’d found the perfect amount of pressure on his boot. You just had to keep grinding your aching cunt into the leather.

“Poor baby. No one’s gonna take me from you,” he croons and strokes your head. His hand moves so much slower than any of your body parts and the contrast intensifies the pleasure further.

“Good,” you say.

“Mhm. Trust me, you keep my hands full as is,” he jokes.

He watches as you keep whining and humping his boot. Your hips move like you’re on the clock. He can feel drool starting to drip on his jeans and dampen the fabric. If only he could see your eyes. He knows they’re getting glossy, hazy with the bliss coming from between your legs. Lucky for him, a particular jolt of ecstasy pulls your head back and ends with your face looking up at him.

“You’re getting to daddy’s favorite part, honey. Keep going, Keep being a good girl,” he says. Again, your tail jerks when it registers the magic words. You snap your hips with renewed fervor, chasing the elusive high. His fingers press down harder against his cock as he sees the gleam of saliva coating your chin and lips.

“When do we get to my favorite part?” you babble. Your voice was starting to give as the warmth of carnal pleasure encroaches on your mind.

“And what is your favorite part?” he asks, knowing what your answer would be.

“The part when I actually get your cock,” you whimper.

He shakes his head. “Look at you. Trying to be smart while you’re going dumb,” he teases, “Quit complaining. You’re still getting to feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” you whine instantly.

“Oh really? It looks pretty similar to me,” he says.

You make a small sound that’s halfway between a whine and a growl. Even with your frustration though, your hips don’t stop.

“I’m just teasing you, pup,” he says, stroking your jaw with his free hand, “I guess it is different. I don’t see you crying like you do when I’m buried inside. I don’t get to see those pretty eyelashes all wet from tears.”

Your eyes roll back at the mention of being so fucked out you cry. It was one of your favorites, and Leon knew it. Being reduced to a crumpled mess of sobs against the heat of his chest got you like almost nothing else.

The reactions etched across your facial features are cute, but he can’t tear his focus away from your ass moving against its will through the force of your tail.

“But that’s not the big difference, is it?” he continues, “No. The real reason you want my cock is cause you want daddy to breed you, huh?”

As soon as it leaves his mouth, it’s like his mental buzzer is letting him know he’s won the grand prize. Everything about you goes haywire. You lock around his leg while your hips rut like you’re in heat. Your tail whips around so fast he thinks it could create a breeze.

“Uh huh, daddy- ah! Mm… just wanna be bred. Need it,” you ramble.

He feels his cock twitching in his pants. He’s sure when he actually does get it in you, he’s not gonna last too long. It’s straining against the zipper as is, and he can’t stop rubbing it. He’s almost as bad as you on the boot.

“I know you do. Silly little puppy. That’s always what you need,” he coos, “Just need to be pumped full of cum. My sweet girl.”

Your tongue is half lolled out of your mouth by this point. You’re past going dumb. Your head is swimming around in absolute thoughtlessness. Not a care in the world besides getting yourself to cum all over daddy’s boot.

He nearly groans out loud from the sight of it. He can feel the warmth of your pussy all over his shoe, the plush of your thighs clamped near the sides.

“You’re doing perfect, baby,” he mutters, “You’re gonna get your treat, I promise. Just let daddy watch you cum, and I’ll make sure you get your fill.”

You want to whimper “ok, daddy,” but your mind is too far gone for words. All that comes out is a strangled amalgamation of sounds accompanied by your head wobbling up and down. And the whole time swish swish swish.

Your swollen little clit had more than enough stimulation to get you to burst. Pants turn to gasps and fluid movements sharpen. You mumble against his leg, your lips squishing all over his pants and wetting them even more with your spit.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, which is enough to get another loud moan out of you. He chuckles and continues watching with his half-lidded, lustful eyes.

As the movement of your hips slow, your tail’s swings weaken. He still strokes your head as you catch your breath. Your chest puffs in and out while you feel your skin cooling down. It was hard not to get sleepy after you came, but before you have to worry about falling asleep at his feet, Leon scoops you up and holds you on his lap.

Rubbing your back, he presses some kisses to your forehead and temple. “There’s my girl. How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Good, daddy,” you mutter against his shirt.

“Yeah? You think you’re up for daddy breeding you for real now?” he whispers.

And suddenly, you’re not so sleepy. You sit up straight in time with your ears perking up. You nod and give him a lazy smile. He can’t see it, but he can feel that tail already starting to wag again.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x you

[redtsundere-writes]

sukuna and servant!reader is so good!! looking forward to rescue more of them <33

Eyes On Me | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader

Sypnosis: Uraume can't play chess with the king right now, you must step up. Contents: Obsession, pining, kinda fluffy, mentions of blood and body parts. Uraume uses they/them pronouns. Word Count: 2404 words. Author's Note: I love writing this ship. People have been asking me to make this a series. I'll try my best lol I think you can still read them individually, but there's a preferred order.

Beginning. ← Previous |

Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on temporary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining. 

Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it’s up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although… There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing. 

You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked about themselves, you never asked. 

“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire. 

Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef. 

“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him. 

After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence. 

“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him. 

“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture. 

Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen the king playing. You knew from the other servants that he was a good player and only plays with Uraume or some brave guest. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw. 

“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity. 

Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and taking orders, but what else can you do? 

“Yes,” you answered with a smile. 

That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that. 

“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you. 

“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down. 

Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it. 

“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.

“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be. 

Your father had taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn’t take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions. 

This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple movement of his fingers. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. This was a good opportunity to do so. 

Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.

“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square. 

Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble. 

“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king. 

At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to concentrate on what he was doing. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.

Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts. 

“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up. 

“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king. 

“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king. 

“Well, well...” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started. 

There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade. 

Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.  

“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology. 

“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction. 

Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them. 

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed. 

“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room. 

Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.

“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move. 

“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle. 

“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat. 

“She has potential.” 

“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their eyebrow at the confusing statement. 

“She has the potential to become a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently. 

Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that. 

The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table. 

“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful woman, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question. 

“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.

Author's Note: I poured my poor knowledge on chess for this lol I hope it makes sense.

Order your own fanfic!

Masterlist.

#fanfic #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #jjk imagine #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #fluff #jjk fluff #king x servant #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

 “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” 

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive. 

This moment is no different. 

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head. 

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years. 

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained. 

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way. 

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future. 

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now. 

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they? 

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.” 

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.  

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair. 

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home. 

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads. 

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared. 

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment. 

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance. 

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain. 

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him. 

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his. 

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere. 

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter. 

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight. 

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone. 

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it. 

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be. 

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.” 

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it. 

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile. 

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight. 

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize. 

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised. 

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then. 

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down. 

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear. 

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it. 

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.” 

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you. 

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this. 

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away. 

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off. 

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we? 

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption. 

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.” 

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened. 

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it. 

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours. 

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on. 

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man. 

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses. 

Always have, always will. 

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined. 

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into. 

You’d forgotten just how well you know him. 

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind. 

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens. 

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him. 

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core. 

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response. 

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.” 

“Please what, Sugar?” 

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-” 

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command. 

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention. 

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now. 

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day. 

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned. 

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water. 

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would. 

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer. 

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago. 

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up. 

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night. 

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.” 

You mean more than just the sex. 

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does. 

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again. 

You don’t know when the tears started. 

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet. 

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.” 

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use. 

“When I get back, all I care about is you.” 

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains. 

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you. 

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable. 

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die. 

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 3)

A/N: i know it took me way longer than it should have, but at last im here with the next part and that's what matters, right? thank you for the support on the prev parts, hope you'll enjoy this just as much!

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Meetings never really excited Harry, but lately, they have been his favorite along with studio sessions. Because these were the times he always got to see Y/N. 

Today he is going in with her favorite cookies in his bag that he picked up on his way, taking a detour just to drop by that one place she loves the most. It’s been a recurring thing for Harry, picking up a cup of coffee for her, buying her favorite snacks for their sessions or surprising her with lunch from that taco place she adores so much. He’s been doing practically anything to get a smile on her face because he feels like that’s the only thing he is destined to do. 

He’s been ignoring the fact that her time working on the project ends in two weeks, according to the contract. The only chance to stretch it longer if the required songs are not finished, but they are all practically done at this point. Harry tries his best not to think of what it will be like when he doesn’t get to see her as often as he does now. 

The meeting was scheduled only yesterday, so Harry has no idea what it is about, but it doesn’t really matter, they are supposed to record afterwards, so he only cares about spending more time with Y/N. 

However, the smile fades when he walks into the room and doesn’t see her. It’s odd, she is usually there before him, but now it’s just a couple of the studio engineers, Niall, Liam and Blake, the kind of weird manager from Modest who’s been working with them since they started recording for Midnight Memories. Harry has been getting these eerie vibes from him, but he just can’t put his finger on it, so he’s been sucking it up and ignoring it. He gave no reason not to be trusted so far. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry greets everyone walking into the room. 

“Ah, Harry! You’re here!” Blake smiles and they shake hands before Harry settles in a chair. “I was just telling the boys what this meeting is about. Good news, you are set for another album after Midnight Memories is released!”

It’s no surprise, to be honest. One album after the other, the pace has been just like that for a while. 

“Great,” he nods. “Do we know who we’re gonna work with?”

Blake then hands him a paper with a list of names and some other details. Harry runs over the names, looking for a particular one, but it’s not there.

“What about Y/N?” he asks.

“Ah, I wanted to tell you guys. She got another project kind of last minute, so she is done with the album for now and won’t be able to join for the next one, it seems like,” Blake explains casually and it doesn’t stand out to anyone else either, but it hits Harry in the chest pretty hard.

She is done with the album? Why didn’t she say anything? They talked on the phone just two days ago, why didn’t she even mention it?

And why isn’t she gonna work on the next album? Harry doubts she is booked that far ahead, she is just getting recognized in the industry and she told him herself she is living from one project to the other, works on the next album won’t start at least until they start touring Midnight Memories.

It’s not adding up, but on the other hand… Harry has no right to question her. Even despite how close he’s been getting to her, they are still just… coworkers. Friends. 

But nothing more. 

“Alright, now that we are talking about the next album, I have a little sneak peek of a song that could be a big hit!” Blake seems enthusiastic as he opens his laptop and then soon a demo starts playing, but Harry can’t really focus, he is too stuck on the fact that he has no more time left with Y/N. He even pulls out his phone, ready to text her and ask her how all of this happened, but then talks himself down. When he finally starts to listen to the song, it sounds familiar at first, but there are no lyrics and Harry often finds random songs familiar lately, because he just hears so many new melodies on a daily basis, they tend to blend together. 

“You like it?” Blake asks him and Harry just nods.

“Yeah. What is it called?”

Blake smiles confidently as he shuts the laptop down.

“Night Changes.”

The weather is finally good enough for grilling and the rowland household would take an opportunity anytime for that. Filling up their backyard with the people they love the most and feeding them burgers, hotdogs or basically anything Mitch is able to throw onto the grill. They usually have a gathering like this every month if their schedule and the weather allows. 

Now it’s finally the first official grill party of the year. 

Harry is sat outside by one of the tables, his plate is empty by now, but he knows he’ll get another round at one point. Cards are scattered on the tabletop, along with glasses of lemonade and beer, the kids are playing in the back somewhere by the treehouse, everything feels and looks idyllic.

For the past about two hours Harry couldn’t stop looking for Y/N. Stealing glances when she was talking to Sarah or playing with the kids, trying not to ogle her too obviously when she was laughing at something at the other table. He wanted to walk up to her a thousand times already, but he is trying to act cool and figure out how to act when there are other people around. 

It’s an unknown territory for sure. 

When Harry sees her walking towards the house he just can’t stay put. Excusing himself from the group he tries his best not to look suspicious as he follows her inside. Once the sliding door is closed behind him he quickens his steps down the hallway towards the bathroom, guessing she went there, but as he is approaching the door he notices it’s closed.

Should he try his luck and open it? Or maybe knock? Or…

Suddenly, the lock rattles and the door moves the tiniest bit, light coming through the gap. His heart skips a beat as he leaps forward and pushes the door open more so he can step inside.

And there she is, standing by the sink, checking herself out in the mirror when Harry walks in and closes the door behind him. Then slowly, she turns her gaze to him, for the first time today and for a moment Harry thinks she might tell him to fuck off and get out, but when he sees her lips part, he knows what she wants.

Him.

They collide fast, their usual hunger for each other taking over in a heartbeat. Demanding kisses, rough touches, they both know they should be in a hurry, Harry can’t even remember if he locked the door, it would be rather awkward if someone walked in on them.

Especially because no one knows about them, or whatever is going on between them. 

It’s been over a week since the dinner party that ended up with the most confusing but also mind-blowingly amazing sex they have ever had. When it was over Harry simply left and kept to what she said, that they would not talk about it and that’s exactly what happened. They never talked about it, but it happened again. 

Twice since then. 

And now they are going at it again. 

“Fuck,” Harry growls into her mouth when she reaches into his pants with quick but confident moves, because it’s not the first time she is doing it and he can only hope it’s not the last either. 

“Quickly,” she pants and he just nods, bunching up her dress and tugging her underwear down. It’s no surprise he is already hard, following her inside was like a foreplay to him, the secrecy, the chance that she might tell him to fuck off, his pulse has been rising before he stepped into the bathroom. 

They moan together when he thrusts into her, but then he gets back to kissing her to keep their voice down as he starts moving. Usually, they don’t talk when they are having sex, but Harry feels like changing that up, trying out how she reacts to something different. 

“You knew I would come after you, huh?” he pants against her lips.

“I did,” she breathes out, one arm curled around his neck, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep her balance. 

“You thought about me fucking you all day?”

To that, she doesn’t answer and Harry almost regrets opening his mouth, but then she looks at him and nods.

“I did,” she repeats herself and even cracks a smile before pulling him closer to kiss him hard. And just like that, a tightening but warm feeling spreads in his chest. 

They don’t need much time, Harry is the first to come and she follows soon right after. Her head falls against his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths and he tries to fight the urge, but then gives in and bringing up a hand he runs his fingers through her hair. Part of him fears this move might be too intimate for her and that she’ll shake him off of her any moment, but it never happens and Harry enjoys it, probably way more than he should. 

They clean themselves up and soon it’s just the sparkle in their eyes that proves what they just did. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, fixing her makeup in the mirror. 

“Are you asking me out or something?” Harry cheekily asks and she just smacks his chest playfully.

“I have some stuff I’ve been working on that I want to show you.”

Harry’s pulse fastens again. This is just like it was before, when it was just the two of them, sharing the songs they were working on. 

“I would love that,” he smiles at her, watching her walk to the door. 

“Alright. I’ll text you then.”

Y/N walks out and Harry knows they are back to not talking and for a second he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep going like this. 

When he walks out he is still deep in his thoughts, but then when he reaches the kitchen he comes to a halt, seeing Mitch by the kitchen island, sipping on some lemonade, a knowing look on his face.

“Hey man,” Harry clears his throat and joins him instead of walking outside.

“Hey. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Want to share why I just saw Y/N coming from the same direction as you just did?”

“Uh… you know, we just…”

Harry can’t quite find the right words, especially because he doesn’t like and can’t really lie to Mitch, but he also wants to keep the no talking rule. Mitch stares back at him with a blank face for a second, but then his eyes go wide.

“No way.”

“What?” Harry laughs.

“For real?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and… you and Y/N?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but that’s quite the answer to Mitch.

“Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”

“Keep it down!” He hushes his friend. “It’s… it’s nothing official or anything.”

“But it is something, right? What is it?”

Harry once again just stays silent.

“You two are having sex?” More silence. “Oh my God! Did you just do it in the bathroom?!”

“Shh!” Harry tries to shush him again, but he also can’t hold back his smile, thinking about what just took place in that bathroom. 

“Harry, what the hell! When… How did that happen? You know what? I don’t want to know about that,” Mitch changes his mind quickly, making Harry laugh. “But like… what is it?”

“I told you, it’s nothing o–”

“No, I mean… what do you want it to be?”

Harry sighs as he turns so he can look out at the backyard through the sliding door. And there she is, with a glass in her hand as she is talking to Sarah, laughing at something and Harry wishes he knew what it was. 

“I just… I like her. A lot.”

“But you two had been hating each other passionately, what happened to that?”

“I think we took the passionately part and turned it into something else,” Harry smirks cheekily, his eyes still glued to her figure outside. 

“Oh my God, you are so gone for her,” Mitch breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re falling for her!”

Harry turns back to Mitch and hesitates before speaking up.

“I already fell for her. When we worked together years ago. But then she basically disappeared and when we met again, she acted like I was her mortal enemy,” Harry chuckles. Calling himself the enemy sounds ridiculous, but it’s the most fitting he could say. “And now…” he hums, but doesn’t finish his thought out loud.

“And now you’re falling for her again?”

“I might be,” he nods.

The Sun has set, but the party's still going. Well, it’s not raging, some of the people who came with kids have left and Scout has been put down by Mitch as well, but a handful of guests are still out on the terrace, playing card games and sharing stories. 

Y/N sits right across from Harry and he has noticed the change. She is losing her cold act towards him, slowly but surely. They can finally talk and joke around almost like back in the days. Harry however doesn’t want to let himself go deeper than he should, he knows he is on an unstable field with her and he feels like it all could snap any moment, but…

It feels so amazing.

Making her laugh, sharing knowing looks, teasing each other like old friends, Harry missed being like this. 

When he notices that she’s probably cold his first thought is to offer his hoodie, but he is quick to stop himself, he’s sure it might be too much at once so he instead just asks around who needs a blanket as he is heading inside anyway so he can easily grab a few. 

But then as the night comes to an end, he still decides to try and dance around the unsaid boundaries.

“Hey, I just ordered a car, added your address as well.” Harry tells her when he sees her open the Uber app on her phone.

“Ah, no need, I can just–”

“Already ordered it,” he insists, hoping she’ll accept it and luckily, it seems like she is not in the mood to argue. 

The car ride is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. She is on her phone, reading what seems like emails to Harry and he notices the change in her instantly.

“Everything alright?”

She looks up with a frown and then sighs, locking her phone. 

“Just work. I have this annoying assistant, called Daryl up in my ass on another project, he is trying to get me to give way more than I’m obligated to. I don’t even know who his boss is, the damn guy is like a mystery for some reason.”

“Like, they want more music from you?”

“Yes,” she nods. “They want to listen to stuff I’m working on in case something fits the album, but I’ve already delivered what I was paid for.”

Although he is eager to know more, to offer his help, he stays silent, staying within the boundaries this time, not pushing his luck even more. It’s a miracle itself that she even said this much about anything personal. 

“So tomorrow?” Y/N asks when the car stops in front of her house. Harry looks at her and for a moment, all he can think about is the last time they were here like this. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” he manages to speak up, snapping out of his memories.

“I’ll text you. Bye then,” she nods before climbing out of the car and heading towards her front door. Harry watches her for a bit before he tells the driver to leave. 

She still hasn’t texted him. It’s four in the afternoon and he hasn’t heard of her since she got dropped off last night. 

He was up early, went for a run, because he definitely needed to put his extra energy into something instead of continuously checking his phone, hoping for a text to pop up. Then he grabbed himself a bagel on the way back, brewed a coffee when he got home and had his breakfast while staring at his phone like a sore loser. 

He took that damn phone everywhere he went. Literally everywhere. But the hours passed by and he got no sign and at first he just thought she got busy with something, but by the time he was done with lunch, it turned into a worry. 

She was as punctual as one could get and she would have already texted him by now, even if it was just about that she is running late with whatever she was doing. A decent session lasts at least three or four hours and she is not one to pull an allnighter.

He has kept ordering himself to be patient all day, but now he lost the last bits of his bearing. At last he decides a text is fine, she can answer whenever it’s convenient. 

HARRY: Hey, are we still up for a sesh? 

He keeps the conversation open and watches his message sit there, its status staying delivered for what feels like forever. Then, about twenty minutes later, it changes to read and the three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen as Harry’s heart threatens to jump right out of his chest. He knows he is acting ridiculously, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head for now. 

The dots then disappear, but no message arrives. A minute goes by and they reappear and this time a gray bubble follows.

Y/N: I got a bit of a situation on my hands rn.

Then a photo pops up of her house with two police cars parked at the front and Harry’s stomach drops.

HARRY: I’m going over.

He sends the message before he could even think it through and he is already out the door by the time she reads his reply. 

When he arrives one of the police cars is still there and Y/N is out front, talking to an officer. She is lacking her usual on-spot style, wearing a baggy sweat set, her hair in a state of mess he has never seen before, but even despite the worried expression on her face, she looks annoyingly beautiful. 

She spots him as he gets out of his car, crossing the lawn with a slow jog.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, on the verge of losing his marbles if he doesn’t find out what happened immediately.

“Give me a minute,” she tells him, turning back to the officer. “Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know if I find anything that’s missing.”

“Take care, Miss. We’ll have a car patrol around the neighborhood every hour for the next 24 hours, though it’s unlikely they will come back.”

With a nod, the officer walks over to the car, gets in and they drive away.

“What the hell happened?” Harry asks when Y/N finally turns to him.

“Someone broke into my house,” she says and then just simply heads back inside. Harry jogs after her. 

“What? When?” 

Y/N is walking straight to her kitchen and Harry follows her, locking the front door behind him. 

“I went to a yoga class in the morning. When I came back, I noticed my lock was picked and the door was open.” 

Harry watches her rummage through a cabinet before grabbing a bottle of tequila along with two glasses. She shoots a questioning look to him, to which he just nods, though he is still lost, confused and kind of angry. She pours a generous amount into both glasses and then hands one over to Harry before chugging hers down faster than ever. 

“Did anything go missing?”

“Literally nothing,” she laughs bitterly. “Everything seems untouched and I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone break in if they don’t take anything valuable?”

“Money? Jewelry? Everything is here?”

“Everything. I checked everything.”

Harry is now just as clueless as Y/N. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s also somehow even worse. Whoever broke in had a reason to, but it’s completely hidden for now. 

When she reaches for the bottle again he notices how much her hands are shaking. She is a nervous wreck. 

“Hey, you don’t want to lose your rationality right now,” Harry softly warns her as he grabs her hand and stops her from pouring another one. 

“I’m fucking terrified, Harry,” she admits, her voice shakes and so weak like never before. Harry’s heart breaks for her. “Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home?”

“I have,” Harry answers without hesitation and that’s when she finally looks him in the eyes again. “I had a few stalkers throughout the years and attempted break-ins.”

And just like that, something changes in her. The last bits of the wall she so carefully built up between the two of them are destroyed and she lets him see her fully and so naked emotionally. Her lips tremble, tears dwell in her eyes and just as the first sob breaks out of her chest, he is pulling her into his embrace. 

For a second Harry thinks it might be just luck, that she is only opening up to him like this because he is the one who is physically here with her, but he then wipes this thought and just focuses on being the support she truly needs. 

He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she calms down and regains control over her breathing. 

“Pack a bag for a few days, stay at mine for a bit, okay?” he softly says when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at him. She doesn’t try to put up a fight, just nods and lets him walk her up to her bedroom. 

He helps her pack, she grabs the clothes while Harry packs her laptop and chargers. Half an hour later they are getting into his car before heading over to Harry’s place. The car ride is silent and Harry doesn’t even try to talk her through it. He knows how important it is to let her find her own peace in this situation instead of trying to just temporarily divert her attention. 

It’s actually her first time at his place, so she is curiously examining the place when they finally arrive. Harry shows her around quickly and then they reach the bedrooms upstairs.

“Choose a bedroom, personally my favorite is that one,” he smiles softly, pointing at the one next to his own bedroom. She walks closer and peeks inside, then into his bedroom and he watches her patiently.

“Can I… sleep with you?”

Her request surprises him, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t hoping for it. 

“Sure, of course,” he nods and gestures for her to walk inside. 

He sets down her bag to the ottoman at the end of his king sized bed while she looks around. Harry grabs a towel for her from the closet and hands it over to her.

“Take a shower, I’ll make tea for you, how does that sound?”

She just nods, holding the towel to her chest and he can’t believe how vulnerable she looks. The Y/N he’s known for the past few months is nothing like the woman standing in front of him right now. 

“Alright, then I’ll…” 

He clears his throat and then turns around to give her privacy, but he doesn’t even get to take a step before she grabs his hand and pulls him back. He opens his mouth to ask what else she needs, but he is met with her lips pressing against his, hard and needy and he wastes no time to return the kiss just as passionately. His arms curl around her tightly, like an armor, ready to protect her from anything and everything. 

They stumble into the bathroom and she pulls away, just enough so that she can start stripping out of her clothes, but Harry stops for a minute before things get too heated too fast.

“Wait, are you… Today was a lot, are you sure you… want to…?”

“I’m sure. I need this,” she nods and even though she appears just as vulnerable as before, there’s some kind of strong will mixed in her state now. Harry stares back at her, looking for any kind of sign that this might be a bad idea, but then she adds: “I need you.”

And Harry knows in that moment that he would give her anything in this world, because he fell for her again, but this time, it’s nothing like he has ever felt before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[leonsbimbogf]

i still adore you, I swear

🍃! Plug! Miguel x Fem! reader !🍃

A/n: guys i was mf arching my back and typing this out on my laptop n I'm so glad ppl like the first one I rlly appreciate itt pookies! also I had to crop some of this out cause my man was full on arching his BACKK but credits to JesGreenEight for this banner!!!

cw/smut warning: pure smut, Miguel being a freaky man, weed, shitty ending bc y'all KNOW i'm absolute dog dookie at writing them, creampie, oral (m receiving), somewhere in it I said that reader has a bad reflex and I'm so sorrayy.

So now here you are, smoking a joint with your plug. The harsh yet sweet aroma of weed filled his room. He passes the joint back to you letting you take a rip. You cough a little from the smoke clouding your lungs but still manage to have a smile. You pass the joint back to him without a word. Breaking the silence Miguel spoke in an almost slurred tone. 

“I know it’s not the weed speaking but has anyone told you you're so attractive, ma?” His veiny hand finds your thigh before rubbing the flesh without knowing. You immediately snicker as you answer back in a flirty tone.

“Hmm no Miggy they haven't” he trails his hand closer and grips your inner thigh while chuckling, you two were just on the moon. He replies to your comment after taking a hit.

“Honestly I should show you how attractive you are to me.” your eyes widened at his statement but you were intrigued at most. The way his shirt hugged him, the way you can see his cock print through his sweatpants. It was all so feverish. He comes closer to you with his lips up to your neck making the hair stand up practically. 

“You smell so good.” he finally says before placing kisses on your neck making you moan. His kisses go lower to your chest. He takes off your shirt revealing your skin to him. He instantly kisses your neck now having his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. The smell of weed and anticipation is clouding the room. Your panties are already soaked from when he first called you attractive. Before you know it he speaks in an entertaining tone.

 “How about you taking it out for me?”

 You instantly pull down his pants and his underwear. His cock bounces to his stomach before standing back up. His cock was decorated with some hair. Your breath caught in your throat after realizing how hot it was. You knew it was wrong but it felt so damn good, you can say that.

He puts the palm of his hand on your cheek as he rubs your bottom lip with his thumb, he looks down at you with love in his eyes. Were you always this pretty? 

“Look at those pretty lips.” 

he says in an admiring tone. You faintly smile before giving a couple of kitten licks and then actually putting your whole mouth on the tip. 

“You like that?” You mumble out on his cock. Miguel could’ve just came right then and there. He saw how sexy you looked with your soft lips wrapped around his cock like a glove.

 “There you go” he muttered under his breath. You push your head deeper onto his cock but you choke on it due to your horrible gag reflex. You pull back with a saliva string pulling with you.

“Hmm, Miguel..” 

 you say, slurring your words a bit. You were cockdrunk from him. 

“You did such a good job, didn’t you? m’ so proud baby.” He spoke out while looking down at you. He breaks the moment of silence by saying. 

        “Think you can bend over for me mami?” He says before stroking his cock. You bend over to feel his huge hands grabbing and kneading the fat of your hips and pulling your pants down. He gasps and chuckles when he sees your panties with a wet spot making it noticeable. “I see you getting wet for me.” He says.

 He pulls your panties to the side to see your plump lips soaked It just looks like you wanted to get fucked by him. He knows what you need, Just let him guide you. Suddenly you feel his fat mushroom tip lay on your clit. 

“Are you ready bunny?” He just makes you feel mushy inside even if he’s saying simple things. You nod your head before preparing for his cock. He shoves his tip in, You whimper as you can feel being stretched out by his thick tip. 

“Awhh shit. Your pussy’s huggin’ around me.” He moans out. He can even admit that your pussy did make him moan and groan. He has fucked many girls but they all just felt like he had to do it. With you, it feels special. 

“Hmm, M-miggy..please move..” you moan. Your moans sounded pornographic. He bucks his hips into you while grunting. 

“Ah this pussy got superpowers or somethin’ hm?” He jokes before smacking your plump ass. He loves the way it jiggles when he smacks it even lightly. 

“God d-damn.” You manage to yelp out. He thrusts deeper into your pussy. “Fuck you're gonna make me cum. Can’t believe I have your cute ass under me.” 

After minutes of moaning and groaning, you feel a full feeling. His cum sprays inside your cunt and you feel it Immediately fill your cunt up. When he pulls out his soft cock you can feel you can feel his cum leak out of your cunt.

“Your mine got it? my stock is coming soon but you're mine from now on,” he says hugging you to the bed and holding you fairly close to him. You feel butterflies roam around your stomach when you see his hand on your lower waist. Before you even spoke you heard his snores filling the room. You giggle quietly at the fact that he fell asleep in a second.

and here's to my taglist ( ◜‿◝ )♡: @moon-rivr @monstera02 @lazyjellyfish300 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @yournextbimbogf @chiwhorei

#x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #plug!miguel #plug au #spiderman 2099 #tw: weed #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #female reader #fem reader #some fluff?? #cheesy plot go crazy #tumblr fyp #fyp #foryou #fypage #foryopage

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 03. Sebastian (Date Night)

Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,779 Warnings: established relationship, cock humping, cum in pants. thats it <3 Prompt(s): 03 — date night Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: im loving how soft everyone in this event has been, it's allowed me to stretch my fluff writing muscles a little which i desperately needed <3 don't get me wrong, im just as excited to get to the rougher requests too hehe! but this is a nice change of pace from my usual stuff, so thank you for letting me indulge in this type of writing!

A weekly tradition, one he's kept with him for as long as he can remember. Even when he was too young to drink, his mom would drag him to the saloon every weekend just like how everyone else in town would inevitably show up soon after, the kids getting free reign of the pool room to play in while the adults enjoyed the end of the week together, surrounded by too tall glasses of beer he was always mesmerized by. And years later, he still visits to play with his friends— only he's of legal drinking age now and able to appreciate the taste of alcohol appropriately, which adds a fresh spin to the lifelong pool nights as it were.

And, of course, there's you too. The new addition to his routine, married and homely. A welcomed plus one at that, not just by him, but by his friends too. A small little get together with everyone that quite often doubles as a date night; especially considering there's fuck all else to do in the lazy Pelican Town other than get drunk outside or get high at home. And he does enough of the latter with you already, so he likes to think that these saloon date nights count for something, right?

It's a chance for you to get all dressed up and pretty at the very least! Not that he doesn't think that you're always the prettiest girl in the world, but he knows that he puts in a little more effort himself when it comes to attending the weekly function, and it's nice to see what sort of outfit you'll end up in too. Because you look so pretty in them all, he'd be hard pressed to pick a favourite. Giddily awaiting his chance to politely ogle you from across the bar, a secret hidden game shared amongst lovers.

"Seb!" He hears you yell from the bathroom, and a smile automatically finds its way to his lips. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, all ready to go, he yells back an eager yeah babe?

Footsteps answer his question, and he awaits your arrival with bated breath. Expecting you to be done dressing by now, maybe needing some help with a difficult to reach zip or something? But what he doesn't expect is... Well, God, look at you...

Oh, that's gotta be his favourite outfit on you after all. Wasn't so hard to pick now, was it? The sight of you entering the bedroom, cute confused look on your face, wearing what he can see is only his old hoodie and a pair of underwear is such a pretty view. He bites his tongue as you saunter closer, else he's liable to spill filthy secrets about just how long he's yearned to see you wear exactly that, eyes half lidded the moment his gaze lands on your bare thighs. You could wear anything in the world, the most expensive dress known to man, the prettiest pare of heels in the world, and this would still be his favourite. Barefoot and underdressed, how domesticated you appear, hair and face all done up nicely, dressed to the nines in his hand me downs. There's not a prettier sight, he suddenly decides. Wanting to clutch his chest from how in love he is with you wearing his hoodie, an unmistakeable thirst present in how his hands itch to haul you on top of him so he can love on you a little. Genuinely pained from how badly he wants you in such a swift moment, his pretty little wife.

Still, he hopes you plan on wearing more than just that out to the saloon; a tight tug of jealousy wrapping around his fluttering heart. Except, well, maybe he really doesn't. You look perfect as is, all smiles and wifely in his beloved clothing. His beloved wearing his beloved, he'd rather you stay just as you are. But the thought of others interjecting themselves into such a personal moment for him is annoying, has him already wanting to shield you away from prying eyes despite remaining safe at home.

"Do you know where my uh... My— y'know?" You vaguely gesture towards your bare thighs with your words, and his eyebrows raise in faux suspicion. You always get so frazzled before leaving for the saloon, something about the excitement of the night to come getting to you, and though he truly believes it's innocently adorable how you fret, he can't help but wet his lips at the way you draw attention to your pretty legs right in front of him.

"Your... pants?" He questions back, tutting quietly to himself when you enthusiastically nod yes!

Of course he knows where they are— you had thrown them to him just before getting in the bathroom to assumedly finish getting ready. And like the polite husband he is, he took them without any issue. Quietly holding on to your possessions like he's been taught to, because he enjoys helping you out without need for questioning. "Sure do." He plainly states, reaching behind his back to retrieve the thrown away bottoms only to waggle them in front of you— just out of reach!

The sigh of relief you let out has him chuckling, light laughter filling the air as you ramble on about being so ditzy sometimes, but he thinks it's cute. Loves being your metaphorical knight in shining armour when you come seeking his help for the easiest of things; simply because you've forgotten again. It's nice to be of use to you.

Buuuut, on the other hand, it's just as much being your bully, too. There is intimacy in the moment where your eyes go wide as he tugs the clothing a little farther away, a silent encouragement for you to keep coming, just a little closer. The soft padding of your bare feet on the old creaky floorboards of the farm house rings in his ears as you pout prettily at him, almost bashfully, and he considers it a blessing to see you this exposed and vulnerable up close. "Ah-ah." He teases, extending his arm as high up as possible and rendering your pants inaccessible, a sneaky smirk matching his taunting tone. "I think you should leave just like this," He wiggles around, escaping your attempts to take hold of your bottoms with ease, because he knows your tactics well by now. This is not the first time he's teased you like this. "What d'ya think, babe?"

"I can't, Seb! It's too cold, hence the hoodie!" You huff cutely, and by God does he wanna kiss your lips all better. Cock quietly twitching in his pants as you take his playful attitude well, leaking a little precum for you as you tug on the hoodie strings enough for him in your demonstration of how cold you really feel to be able to see that you wear it just like him: as in, with nothing else on underneath.

He briefly wonders if you can feel the heat coming off of him, big arms ready to cuddle you up against his toned chest in an effort to share his warmth with your apparent shivering self. But you answer his question swiftly when you take to climbing on top of him, his arms immediately wrapping around you as a sharp gasp escapes him— the feeling of your knee brushing against his cock knocking the wind out of him, and still he cares more for your safety than the embarrassing fact that just seeing you in his hoodie has him rock hard already.

Tense pause follows, frozen in place with his strong arms keeping you stable as you rock preciously on his lap. God knows where your clothes have gone, because they were immediately tossed aside the moment he thought you might fall, favouring your safety above all else. And then, without a second though, he blurts out a rushed "Sorry— I, it's just..." Before he buries his head against your chest, taking a shaky inhale to try and collect his thoughts, but with your body practically skin tight to his from how snugly he holds you, cock rubbing inadvertently against your leg, the scent of you mixing with the old musk of his worn hoodie— it was a mistake to tease you from the get go. Only resulting in riling himself up enough to have him biting down on his bottom lip to stave off the primal need to buck his hips against literally any part of you like some sort of horny teen; the things you still do to him. Maybe it'd be understandable if he was acting this way back in the beginning of your relationship, and yet...

"You look good in that." He sighs into you, emphasis on the good to make sure you understand the weight of your actions tonight, curling further into you and leaning back on the bed, safely dragging you down with him and letting go just so he can see how you look above him. "Should be a sin, honestly." He laughs with you, noticing the soft blush on your cheeks prompted by his open honesty.

It's not so bad to admit to such degeneracy, right? Cock nestled firmly between your legs, his hands coming up to stroke gentle lines up and down the fat of your thighs lovingly. Would that he could keep you here all night to himself, dying to show you just how much he loves the minimal fit the best way he knows how. But one look at the clock denies him such pleasures, a heavy sigh escaping him as he notices that he should have left with you five minutes ago.

"C'mon," he pats your ass fondly, blowing some hair out of his face as he half sits up, leaning his weight on one arm while his legs still yet hang off the edge of the bed. "We should get going, once we find your— ah, fuck— babe—!"

Mid sentence, you effectively shut him up with a simple movement. Just a small rock forward, nothing too serious. But fuck does it feel great having you take control like that, his eyes flickering up to your face only to see it scrunched up similarly to his own. Tense, expectant. He holds his breath for a second or two, reclaiming a spot on your back as one arm wraps possessively around it, the other still holding him up.

"Or— We could stay here, if y'want?" He offers, but rather than waiting for a response, he slowly guides you into more movement. Pushing lightly on your back to help you hump forward, and removing the weight of his hand to watch you slide back down his lap. Knowing that you're depending on him for stability when your own hands take root on his shoulders is nice, strokes his ego about as well as your barely clothed cunt strokes his cock off right now. And he figures he's got his answer when you bite your lip so seductively that he has to roll his cock up in tandem with you, literally forced into helping you get off on his lap because instinct begs him to please his wife.

It's just that he's so in love with all the small details, y'know? Like how his hoodie fits you better than it ever has him, how it falls from your frame so prettily as you hover above him, his hand gripping the back of the fabric a little tighter so it showcases your frame just that much better for his leering eyes. The little hah's and seb's your pretty lips whine for him as he helps you ride back and forth on his fat cock, the way your brows furrow in concentration, trying desperately to feel the full weight of his hidden cock, cloth barrier providing enough stimulation to rub nicely against your scantily clad clit, but he knows that frustrated sob all too well. He's fucked it out of you enough times before to know that you need more— but babe, you're already running late.

"C'mere." He prompts you with a head tilt, the moment your face gets close enough to his own he courteously kisses you. Short and sweet, a quick peck more than anything, before your greed overtakes you and you push your hips down into him with more vulgar intent, leaving his mouth wide open in a silent gasp of pleasure for you to take advantage of. He'd never complain at the feeling of your tongue running along his own, his grip tightening on the old hoodie you adorn as a means to display some semblance of restraint, but every drop of shared saliva he's forced to swallow in hopes of more has his head dizzy with desire. A great need welling in his tummy to help you get off, desperate to have you use him for your own benefit like the pretty princess you are to him.

He returns the fervour readily, impishly nibbling down on your lower lip before you do the same back, charming him with a simple smile as he leans in for more kisses. All the while his hips continue to buck up for you, fucking forward when you stroke down, and vice versa when he helps your ride closer to him, drawing his hips down so that his tightly concealed cock almost mimics catching on your pretty hole. The shuffling sound of his jeans fill the room to match the squeak of the bed, and he welcomes every lewd moan and suck you have to offer his needy lips.

"Feels s'fuckin' good, babe—" He slurs truthfully when taking a breather from the heated kiss, vision hazy with how good you look riding him like this. And the fact that he's close already from just a minor amount of petting is a testament to how much he just adores you, he thinks, so there's no room for shame in his pervert thoughts when you push him back down onto the bed, his back cradled gently by the sheets below. And the addition of your open palms on his rapidly rising and falling chest as his lungs struggle to keep up with how fucking hot his wife is when you know what you want only adds to the tight feeling in his core. Balls taut under your relentless humping of his cock, head thrown back with barely there control.

He only wishes he could have whipped it out in time to really feel how soaked your pretty cunt must be, gliding up and down his red hot length as you start to shake on top of him.

Which is perfect, really, because he doesn't think he'd be able to last much longer at this rate either. Saloon well forgotten about when he's got the prettiest girl alive on top of him, riding him so well that he's about to stain his jeans white with how your hips snap up and down his tip, unsure who the main culprit is of the growing wet spot on his bottoms is— but that's hot. Unashamedly yearning for each other as your nails dig into his chest, your thighs tightening at his sides as you pinpoint the exactly location needed to help trigger your orgasm and then—

"That's it, that's my girl—" He manages to force out before he's cumming with you, mostly due to the sight of his hoodie sleeve getting suckled on as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the sickening contrast between how fucking cute you are and that fact that you're cumming all over his nice jeans is too much to handle. After all, he's but a simple man. And when his wife starts to moan his name around the makeshift hoodie gag, he can't help but to shoot his load against his underwear. Cock throbbing under your soaked little cunt as if he were actually filling you up— God he wishes he was, hands digging into your hips as he pushes you against his spurting length to help milk the remainder of seed out.

Just for you.

And he holds you there until he's done, only releasing his grip on you once his body stops tensing and he remembers how to breathe again, a dry half laugh crawling up his throat as you continue to shake for him.

"Better than the usual date night, right?" He muses out loud, pulling you in for a tight cuddle when you join in on his breathless laughter. Hid friends can wait, at least until he's able to find your clothes again. And, a new pair of jeans for himself.

#500 event! #i like this one its nice n soft #PRAYING FOR NO MAJOR MISTAKES THIS TIME BUT WHO KNOWS LOL #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sebastian smut #sebastian smut #stardew valley sebastian smut

[aklaustaleteller]

Might Fancy You

Y/n went from fearing Klaus, to studying in his studio, to then throwing Shakespeare insults at him while chasing after him to put paint on him; he'd started it. But what happens when she ignores his one warning and he has her cornered in a flash?

Warnings - few mentions of blood and some kissing.

Word Count - 1.8k

I told you I'll have part two out in two days and here it is! You can read part one here, and well, I hope you enjoy both the parts!

“And you are?” Elijah asked the girl standing in the doorway of the mansion, clutching onto so many things that he worried all of it was going to fall out of her trembling hands any time now. 

“Um, I’m here to meet Klaus?” She said, an awkward smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “He’s helping me with an art project,” she continued when the original didn’t say anything.

But he did raise an eyebrow at that, making her even more nervous and bunch up her shoulders in a defensive shrug. “You know what? I’ll just leave,” her voice made a few tumbles as she turned around and began walking out the door she’d just come in. Her guard was high up because she had no reason to believe that this vampire wasn’t going to drain her of blood then and there for stepping onto his property without any permission. 

“Y/n!” She heard a voice call out and she flinched, her heart trying to make up for the missed beat and speeding up as a result. 

“Y- yes?” She stuttered, slowly turning to face him, fearing what’s to come. How stupid had she been to ask a goddamn original to help her out with some- some school work! 

“What did you say to her, Elijah?” Klaus glared at his brother on seeing his new friend so shaken up.

Elijah only turned towards him in a slight confused daze. “I simply asked her who she was,” he said, walking away from the scene to probably his reading chair, leaving as nonchalantly as he could’ve killed her. 

A smile creeped up on Klaus’ mouth, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest at how easily she’d been frightened. It was almost bordering on endearing. 

“C’mon love, follow me,” he urged her as he walked up the stairs, coming to halt when he didn’t hear her move. “Y/n?” he called her, looking back at her from midway up the stairs. and coming to a realisation that she might genuinely be scared of him. 

“I think I’ll go,” she said, looking very close to passing out. “Forget I asked you for anything.” She didn’t even look him in the eyes and turned back around to leave and get away from this mansion as fast as she could.

But of course, Klaus stood in front of her just as she turned, almost sending her heart flying out of her mouth. It was strange, to witness this completely new side of the girl who ferociously bit right back at him the most creative insults he’d ever heard in his long life.

“Why are you so suddenly terrified of me?” Klaus asked, his face creasing in confusion as his eyes showed her specks of hurt that could very well just be the mossy-green of his eyes deceiving her. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know maybe the sense that you’re an original who could rip me to shreds or drain me of all my blood right here,” she stopped herself like she’d done something insanely stupid and – ”finally knocked at my brain,” she trailed off very softly, almost as if cautious of making him angry.

“Y/n- love, you know I’d never do that,” he mumbled, cupping her face and almost flinching when she went stiff. “I mean I could do that but I never would!” he reframed his sentence when she narrowed her eyes, for some reason, desperate that she understood him.  

“What do I have to believe you wouldn’t?” 

“Because I do not have any reason to,” Klaus reassured her, not saying that maybe because he fancied her a little, just because this wasn’t the ideal moment for a confession like that. 

Y/n didn’t say anything at that. Standing still and looking into his eyes, searching his face for any signs of underlying betrayal but she didn’t find any – not that she expected to, he is a thousand years old after all, surely he’d know how to disguise his motives.

And yet, when Klaus grasped her arm and led her up the stairs, she let him. 

“I see you brought all of your stuff,” Klaus chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood as he took a million things out of her hold, placing it all on the rug and smiling when he saw her setting up the canvas for him. He could get used to this very easily. 

“I did, it’s my work you are doing after all,” she said softly, slowly coming out of her shell. “I didn’t want you to waste your supplies on it,” she continued. 

“I wouldn’t say this is wasting anything,” Klaus proposed, thinking that maybe this would be the topic for their discussion today, slight banter even? 

“I wouldn’t either,” she agreed with him, catching him a little off guard. “But the school people will tear this apart and throw it in the trash before I could ever get to it.”

Klaus shook his head at that, preparing the paints and the brushes. “And why would you want to get to it?”

Y/n had managed to make herself comfortable on the floor a couple feet away from him, her papers already scattered on the floor of his studio,  and Klaus only hoped that they could do this more often after this day.

“Well, I wouldn’t want it go to waste… you see? Maybe hang it somewhere in my house when it’s purpose in school is served,” she shrugged nonchalantly, taking the cap off of a pen by her mouth and Klaus wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and cup her face to kiss her. 

Which reminded him that she was quite fastly transitioning back to her usual self around him. He smiled at that, the scary thrill in his heart that had come at the thought of her fearing him slowly fading away. 

Neither of them said anything after that, getting to their individual works in silence. The soft sounds of Klaus’ brush against the canvas, mixing colours on his palette and rinsing the brush rid of the previous colours filled the room along with sounds of Y/n flipping her book, turning the pages in notebooks and changing pens. 

The sun peeked in through the windows, the lighting constantly changing as the clouds drifted calmly through the sky. 

While painting, Klaus began to worry about this girl who was so engrossed in her homework that she hadn’t moved once. He worried that she’d gotten so serious and quaint that she might just tumble into sadness. All that to say, he missed her laugh a little as well.

He tuned to just look at her while he was sure that she was unaware. Her hair was tied up, circular glasses that had a coppery rim slipping lower and lower on the bridge of her nose until she had to fix them. She looked cute, Klaus caught himself thinking.

Her lips were resting in a faint pout as she focused, her fingers picking at them while she jottled down something in her notebook with her free hand. His hand ached to trace its fingers over the highs and the lows of her face. The little frown that had formed inbetween her eyebrows made her look all the more cute and Klaus found himself walking over to her, his feet functioning on a mind of their own. 

He bent down to come face-to-face with her as she was sitting, and he almost cooed at the fact that she still hadn't quite registered the close proximity at which he was in front of her. Raising up his hand, he booped her nose – getting the very reaction he was hoping for.

She looked up at that, slightly startled, only to catch Klaus’ eyes widening a little themselves. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh, because there was something…” he panicked, his eyes frozen on the spot he had gotten yellow paint on her nose. “I removed it though, don’t you fret,” he smiled, brushing over his pants as he began to stand up straight. 

But she passed him a glare then, clutching the bottom of his henley to stop him. “Klaus,” she began. “Did you remove something or put something there?”

He shrugged at that, focusing back on the canvas and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her getting up. 

“Klaus.” She said his name with an underlying warning. She brushed her own finger over the very spot he had touched, and saw the paint.

“Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once a while, but you really abuse the privilege,” she was walking closer to him and Klaus knew exactly what was about to commence, making him cover his head with his arms when she pressed her hand against the paint on the palette. 

He howled with laughter when she dragged her hands across his neck, twisting and turning to get away from her. Still laughing at the insult she threw at him because it was a bloody good one, Klaus swiped his finger across her collarbone, earning a whine from her as she began chasing him around the studio. 

Stopping to catch her breath, she began shouting at him – “thou crusty batch of nature!” But laughter slipped past both of their mouths before they could even contemplate what she’d just said. 

“No way you just threw a Shakespearree insult at me,” Klaus laughed, standing on the complete other side of the room, opposite to her.

He feigned a growl when she began walking towards him, red paint almost drying on her palms. “Take another step, and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Klaus whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

And she ignored his warning, just like he was hoping she would. Watching her creep up closer and closer to him, Klaus felt a smirk pull up a corner of his lips. 

In a flash, Klaus had her pinned against a wall, her wrists held above her head in his hands. His face tilted to the side lightly, his eyes focused on her mouth as he felt her gaze on him heating up her skin. She tipped her chin forward, her lips not quite meeting his’, making him close the gap between them and connect their lips. 

Lips moving in a perfect sync, Klaus brought one of his hands down to snake it around her waist, her mouth opening with a gasp at the sensation and giving him the chance to kiss her further. The back of her head met with the wall behind her as they kissed with a passion that felt too heated. 

Detaching their mouths, both of them took in heaves of breath, Klaus pecking her lips once more before releasing her wrists. She was looking into his eyes, searching them for something and Klaus couldn’t help but smile at her, her lips very lightly swollen, looking like they’d just been kissed. 

“Think I might fancy you a tad,” he grinned, laughing out loud when she grabbed his face to kiss him again, making him lose his balance only for a second before he was cupping her face ever so gently.

"Never realised I wanted to hear you say it so much,” she let slip a breathy chuckle, looking into his eyes before kissing his lips once more. Lord, it was addictive – he was addictive. 

#klaus mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikealson fanfiction #niklaus imagines #the vampire diaries #klaus michaelson #klaus m #klaus mikaelson x y/n #the vampire diares imagine #kol mikaelson #tvd klaus #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #tvd universe #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson yandere #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader #dom!klaus #sub!klaus #tvdu fanfiction #tvd fluff #tvdu fluff

[ldrfanatic]

speak nowww

Slytherin Boys as Speak Now Songs

*in perspective of their relationship with you AND their personality. and why*

here's speak now (tv ofc), 1989 is on the way; which taylor swift album should i do next?

(mattheo riddle, draco malfoy, theo nott, lorenzo berkshire)

slytherin boys masterlist nav

mattheo riddle as Better Than Revenge

best lyric(s) - "she should keep in mind there is nothing I do better than revenge" + "she underestimated just who she was stealing from"

explanation - so, as stated in ttpd version (here), mattheo has a lot of pent up frustration and anger. so he's really good at getting back at people. especially when he gets into a relationship with a partner he really cares about and they ask him not to be mean or attack people for no reason. then he has to channel all his efforts into just getting back at people who bother him. (even though sometimes bothering him is just looking at him even slightly sideways).

w/ his partner - with his partner, mattheo has absolutely no regrets or qualms about being an absolute menace to society. since he began dating them, he's been much less volatile than his normal self, but whenever people get a little too cocky and do absolutely anything at or to you, all bets are off. then mattheo feels that its necessary to step up and remind people that he's still the dark lord's son and he will be the dark lord's son if he has to.

draco malfoy as Speak Now

best lyric(s) - "don't say yes, run away now, ill meet you when you're out" + "horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you"

explanation - I feel like draco is the kind of guy who would totally 1000% crash your wedding if you were ever marrying someone other than him. (*I just read this theo fic abt him crashing readers wedding, ill try and find it and link it here*) But anyways, he would totally crash your wedding. like at first he would feel really bad for even thinking about it but then he would legit just stroll into the chapel like "you can't marry him, you're supposed to marry me" even if he like never mentioned anything about his feelings for you. he mentioned them in his way aka glaring at you slightly less intense than he does everyone else. how could you not notice that he was in love with you?

w a partner - def more silly and cute than anything, but i like to think that when you first started dating (esp if youre a gryff or a huffle) draco would make it his personal mission to embarrass the hell out of you by saying the most out of pocket things in front of like the other slytherins or just in the middle of class as loudly as possible. he just likes to see the little blush on your cheeks whenever he says something that he most definitely should not be saying out loud.

theodore nott as Electric Touch

best lyric(s) - "all I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life" + "I'm tryin hard not to look like I'm trying"

explanation - theo is that guy thats scared of commitment. (sorry to all the theo girlies me included but we gotta admit it at some point). it's not that he doesn't care about his partner, it's just that he's terrified of commitment. there's way too much that could go wrong. he learned very early on that you could do everything right, love someone completely, treat them wonderfully, and then they could just die. but bc his mother passed at such a young age he has a very distorted point of view on this because in his head, he's like but what if they just die???

w/ a partner - that being said, when theo finds that person that's like the one for him, he wants to commit so bad. and he puts all of his effort into it, like he'll call you his girlfriend, he'll spend an exorbitant amount of money on you, he'll even buy you a damn ring, but he won't let you get emotionally close to him. and it kind of freaks him out when he finds himself wanting you to know him in that way. when you finally confront him about one day and he's like, what if you just like died?? and you're just sitting there across from him like '...'

theo, wtf? i'm not just gonna like keel over one day.

after that he kind of lets you in a little and after a few months when he's sure you're not just gonna suddenly fall over, then he's completely fine and continues on like nothing ever happened. (its a little amusing in the hindsight of it all)

lorenzo berkshire as Dear John

best lyric(s) - "don't you think 19's too young to be played by your dark twisted games" + "cause you burned them out, but I took your matches before fire could catch me"

explanation - I don't think it's really talked about enough how much emotional support that enzo needs. his own family aside, he still grew up around death eaters and that surely cannot be healthy for a guy. so when he finally is an adult, i like to think that he looked into some kind of therapy option wizard, muggle, or otherwise. i think that he probably also struggled a little with the friends that he lost during the entire ordeal that he wishes he could've saved (almost like survivor's guilt)

w a partner - so when it comes to a partner, i really think that he needs someone who sees him. that's really important to him that he's with someone that he could just let go with and not have to worry about always being either grinning or stonefaced. He'd like to be able to feel his entire range of emotions without hindrance and he's only really gonna feel safe to do that with a partner.

---

4.25.24

wc 960

taglist @moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #slytherin #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys x reader #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #draco malfoy x reader

[sugarwavelove]

Dearest older brother...?

Notes: woke up from my nap and wrote this off the top of my head. Some of this is based off my own personal experiences. Not proofread.

Content to be found: 100% PLATONIC, implied bpd and ocd if you squint, unhealthy sibling dynamics (lmk if there's more I should add)

You remember asking Sunday that question all too well. And boy, how did you regret it. 

“Is it ok if I call you… big brother now?”

You so desperately wanted to have a caring family, siblings, but younger naive you clung to the wrong brotherly figure. 

He and Robin had such a tight bond, and you, being an only child, envied them. So when you were invited to playdates, you enjoyed every second being with them. 

The fond memories of you and Sunday supporting Robin's dreams. Sneaking into the kitchen to grab snacks without getting caught. You three grew so close, you practically were their third sibling. 

But happiness doesn't last long. The more you all grew up and followed different paths, the more distant you guys became. Of course, there are still attempts to meet up, but it was difficult. Most of the time, you were left behind with Sunday, the man you called big brother. 

Could you really call him that anymore though? He made little effort to keep ties with you. Check in on you. You understand that him and Robin obviously had a closer bond. Therefore, he'd pay more attention to her, but you? It's like he was trying to erase you from his life. 

No. That's not right. He distances himself from you and lets you fall into loneliness. Yes, that's true. But then why does he keep coming back every time you're at your breaking point? 

“What's wrong? You can always tell me anything. I am your big brother, after all.” 

It's the same thing every time. 

He asks you what's wrong. You break down. He consoles you. Then leaves and the cycle repeats. And every time you refuse to talk, he'll manipulate your emotions to speak and cause you to break down even more. 

Why would a big brother do this to his younger sibling? 

You couldn't take the emotional hurt anymore. It's like he just sees this as a game. He always uses the big brother card on you knowing it's your weakness. 

Things get worse though. Of course they do. 

You caught news that Robin has been found dead. That can't be right. It can't. You loved Robin as if she were your actual sister. Why did she die?? 

So here you are. Walking to the estate where Sunday should be. Why are you even going to him? You should be distancing yourself and be grieving alone. As much as he emotionally hurts you, you still care about him. As much as he abandons you, you always come back. 

As soon as you make it through his office doors, someone aggressively grabs you by the shoulders and backs you up to the nearest wall. 

It's Sunday. 

He's shaking, breathing hard, clearly angry, but hurt above all. He rests his head on your shoulder, still holding you but with less force. 

You've never seen him like this before. In the past, you'd occasionally see tiny outbursts when he couldn't get things the way he wanted, but he never displayed this much emotion near you. 

“...Don't leave me too” he said in a shaky voice, but you couldn't catch that. All you could hear was your heartbeat from the adrenaline of suddenly being forced against a wall. 

Out of genuine care you still held for him, you embraced him. He stiffened up but soon accepted it. 

No matter how much you regretted ever calling him big brother, no matter how much it hurt when he abandoned you, you couldn't find it within your heart to leave and move on. 

Comforting him was clearly a mistake. For out of fear he'd lose his only other sibling, he imprisoned you in a spare room in his estate. 

He still had to keep up appearances so you'd constantly be left alone repeatedly. The cycle repeats itself again. He'll come back home and comfort you for leaving you alone for so long, then leave again for a long period of time. 

You'd never escape. You had so many insecurities and were so emotionally constipated. Sunday made things worse. He just had to keep you somewhere where he knew he couldn't lose track of you and possibly lose you just like Robin.

You still loved him. You always would. And he in return would offer you the type of love you never got from your actual family, even if it was just for a bit. 

To you, he was your beloved older brother no matter what.

#honkai star rail #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #found family trope gone wrong #platonic relationships

[traumatrios]

friends, fwb!ART DONALDSON

josie’s notes! this is kind of a character study & lowkey bad but i got out of the theater 4 hours ago and have been obsessing. new era incoming!

ART DONALDSON was unable to keep his eyes off of you.

They are thirsty to drink in the way your body curves with ease in the bootcut jeans you wear out of Art’s bathroom. He lets his gaze swipe up and down your form, as you twist and turn in search of your straggling belongings. Most importantly, your phone.

“Mornin’,” Art chimed, admiring the curve of your chest in the sculpted tank you sported.

“Good morning,” you returned with an innocent smile, swinging the strap of your backpack on your shoulder. Your hands patted along the front, back and sides of your thighs, coming up empty handed.

Art’s eyes located your phone atop his dresser, spinning over in his desk chair to reach and retrieve it. Weight slid off of your shoulders in the form of a relieved sigh.

The corners of Art’s eyes crinkled in a friendly smile as he held it out for you to take. His arms– most notably his biceps –and the bruised marks that stretched across the skin. You could still see the fresh indents your freshly manicured nails left earlier in the morning.

“Here, princess.”

There it was again. That Donaldson smile that has all the ladies swooning. You were a victim of the assault. It took every nerve in your body to speak with how your knees grew wobbly and your thighs began to grow sore.

“Thanks, friend,” you uttered, lifting your fingers to grab the phone. Art pulled his hand away from your, clicking his tongue.

“Ah-ah,” his smile turned into a smirk as he teased you. You were supposed to leave for class five minutes ago, but with his hand ‘accidentally’ prodding at your ass this morning and how he seems to be playing a game now, you began to ponder the possibility of never being able to leave. Your knee was already pressing next to his in his chair, any further and you weren’t ever getting up.

“C’mon, gotta leave,” you attempted to grab the phone again, only for him to pull it further away from you. The tips of your ears began to burn with your growing frustration.

Art raised his eyebrows in suggestion, and you knew exactly what it meant. Tilting your head at the gesture, he rebounded with a different motive.

“Kiss first?” he asked, an attempt at batting his eyelashes following. “Please?” he added.

You roll your eyes at him. You liked how playful he was, you did, but leaving his dorm the morning after another needy fuck was starting to get tiring. What was the next step?

This wasn’t the heavy subject you needed to focus on right now, instead you needed to start thinking about what you’d do if you failed this mornings’ calculus exam.

Before your feet could get moving, your lips were already obliging his request. Art’s hand cupped the back of your scalp to deepen what was meant to be a parting kiss, turning the soft peck into a loving kiss.

With the way his teeth didn’t try to clash with yours, you wondered if this was how he fed the fantasies in his head. It was obvious, Art wanted more than a fuck-buddy, but his passion was way ahead of his heart when it came to pretty girls like you. He always dove in head first, never thinking of the commitment— or lack thereof —when it came to this type of relationship.

You didn’t know what you wanted. It was hard to tell in college; you didn’t even fully know what you wanted to do with your life, how were you supposed to know anything else?

So you’d continue your late-night ventures to his dorm building and totally-not-lunch-dates whenever he had a gap in his weekend tennis schedule and you weren’t swamped with homework. You’d settle with quickies in closets and longing stares if it meant you had a warm body next to you that made you feel wanted.

After what felt like too long, you were the one to break the kiss. Art’s mouth was tinted with a frown to see you snatch your cell phone from his palm and begin to exit his dorm.

“Bye, friend!” You called.

“Bye, friend.”

divider by @benkeibear !

#˚* ੈ🎾‧ art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #josie writes!

[luckycharms1701]

I saw your requests were open and was wondering…..

What kinda of nicknames do you think the bayverse turtles would use for their s/o? Do you lean more towards the cute talk or a form of their s/o’s name? Do you think the turtles would use these nicknames anytime, or just in private one on one moments? 🤔 also, do you think they’d get flustered if their s/o gave them a nickname? (Alright. Sorry that last one was fishing. I know they would get flustered 🤣, but I also wanted to see what type of nicknames for them you like)

I hope you can have fun with this one! :D

yorshie my dear i love it when you come into my askbox and spoil me 🥰 nicknames are one of my favorite topics, and so are the bayverse boys! Let’s discuss.

Leonardo: Leo goes for more whimsical nicknames. He doesn’t have a lot of that in his life, whimsy and sweetness, so he gets it where he can. Blossom is one I used recently. My heart. Honeybee. Pretty bird. Princess if you’re lucky. If he’s in a teasing mood he’ll call you something sticky sweet like honeybunch or cinnamon bun. All of this is in private though, Leo is a deeply private turtle and not a fan of PDA. If you’re with his family and friends he’ll stick to a form of your name or just honey if you’ve done something to make him especially soft.

In bed, now. In bed. Pretty girl. Sweetheart. Mine.

As for nicknames for him, he’ll melt into a pile of goo if you call him sweetheart as you kiss him on the cheek. Call him ‘my hero’ when he gets something down from a high shelf for you and he’ll give you that bashful smile. But really, he likes it best when you just call him Leo. Especially when you whine it into your pillow as he- [is shot]

Raphael: Princess. Shorty. Sweetheart. They start out as teasing or even condescending nicknames, and slowly morph into genuine terms of endearment as he falls in love. He doesn’t care who hears him call you these names either. You’re his, and he wants everyone to know it. Raph is the kind of person who prefers a few well-used terms over variety, so he doesn’t really add any terms of endearment when you get together. However, if you catch him just right he’ll call you ‘my love’ in private.

In bed, it’s sweetheart, babygirl, or baby.

He loves being big and strong, so he loves it when you make him feel big and strong. Big Red. Hunk. If you call him something silly like ‘Mr. Muscles’ he’ll scoff but hide a pleased smile. You’re allowed to call him something like Raphie or Raph-a-doodle, but only in private. Call him handsome, though, and it’s a one-way ticket to Meltsville, population Raph.

Donatello: I know it’s very popular in the fandom for him to use dove. It’s cute, I don’t mind it, but personally I don’t see him using that. Donnie is the kind of turtle to use the more traditional nicknames most often. Dear. Darling. Hon. Sweetie. If he’s feeling especially fond he’ll use ones with a more whimsical and celestial bent. Starlight. Moonbeam. Sunshine. Like Raph, he’ll use these terms at any time. However, he also likes using your name, in full. There’s nothing else that encapsulates you quite as well as your name.

In bed, he still sticks with the traditional. Baby. Darling. Love. Good girl.

Like Leo, Donnie likes it when you call him by his name. Donnie or Donatello works just fine for him. He is very fond of his name. But secretly, he loves it when you unconsciously parrot whatever nickname he just used back at you. i.e. “How was your day dear?” “Better now that I’m with you dear.”

Michelangelo: I’ve spoken a bit about my mans before, here. He’s a big fan of nicknames, and will use a variety. He loves coming up with new, silly nicknames. Angelcakes, of course. Banana muffin. Cupcake. My personal favorite, Starburst. He’ll also use any he hears his brothers using or hears on TV. Mikey’s always looking for inspiration for new names to call you. If he can find one related to your interests, like songbird if you love to sing, he’ll use that one frequently. He uses them all the time, anywhere, even when referring to you when you’re not there. Sometimes you wonder if he actually knows your name. (He does. He just wants to make sure he has your attention.)

In bed, he likes to use babe and baby a lot. Gorgeous. Babygirl. My love if he’s feeling sappy.

Mikey doesn’t really care what you call him, but he loves it when you match his energy. Get in a cute little contest where you try to outdo each other with the most ridiculous nickname, and he’ll have the time of his life. He does like variations on his name. Mikey, Mike, Mikes, Mikester, any variation will get him to grin at you.

#thank you yorshie i love your asks #talking tag #theory tag #tmnt #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey

[rainydaydreamsideblog]

(The Maze Runner) Imagine: He Protects You

It can be dangerous, especially for the only girl in the Glade.

Warnings: Guys being creeps in the Glade (nothing graphic), bullying, the Maze, danger.

. . .Thomas. . .

It’s a beautiful evening in the Glade.  You’re walking straight along the treeline on your way to run a final errand for Alby at the end of the day.  The sun is no longer visible, as it already descended far enough to be blocked by the walls.

Suddenly, you get the creeps.  It was hard to explain, but you feel goosebumps bloom along your skin, and you get the distinct feeling that you’re not alone.  The lovely glow of the bonfire is in your field of vision, but it’s so far away. It’s where most of the guys are gathered.  You can hear their distant whoops and hollers, reminding you that help is far away too.

A twig snaps, and your suspicions are confirmed.  There’s a figure following several feet behind you, lurking in the shadows cast from the trees above.

So, you veer off your original path to draw closer to the homestead where there would hopefully be someone who hadn’t made it to the bonfire yet.  Whoever it was must have caught on to what you were doing because they instantly pick up their pace.  You begin to hurry, increasing your speed so that they can’t catch you before you make it to what you hope will be a haven of safety.

Your heart is pounding, and your chest heaving with panicked breaths as you finally make it to the homestead.  

“Hello?” you call frantically.  

Suddenly, Thomas appears.  He sees your nervous state immediately, his hand taking yours.  But then his eyes lock onto something behind you, and he moves right past you to intercept your pursuer, effectively blocking them from you.

“What’s going on?” he demands.  Your follower is frozen to the spot, stuttering, failing miserably to offer up some sort of explanation.  Thomas steps forward, towering over the guy.  It’s plain to see that he is furious.  His forearms flex and his jaw is clenched.  You can hear his angry breaths as he speaks again.  “That’s what I thought.  Now, get out of here.”

As soon as the guy is gone, Thomas turns around to face you.  His close presence eases your fearful state when he steps into your space, filling your nose with his scent. “You okay?” he asks gently.

You manage a nod.

“We’re going to tell Alby right away.  This isn’t going to happen to you again.  Come here…” He carefully pulls you into his arms for an embrace, as if you’ll break apart if he’s too sudden. You bury your face in his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.  His heartbeat is close to your ears, like a lullaby.

“Thank you…” you whispered.

. . . Newt . . .

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The teasing, the taunts… The inability of certain individuals to just leave you alone.  Ever since you’d rejected him, Allan had made it his life’s mission to make your existence in the Glade all the more difficult.

Most recently, he had purposely bumped into you at lunchtime so that your meal was spilled all over your clothes and onto the ground.  Resources were limited in the Glade.  It was understood that wastefulness wouldn’t be tolerated.  You couldn’t afford to lose food or have clothing ruined.  Fortunately, your clothes would be fine after a wash, but the discarded food was a different story.

You dab at your tank top with a washcloth and pause to look at your reflection in the mirror.  It was all too easy to recall how quickly you’d reached your limit after Allan’s ridiculous ploy.  Your face is still wet from crying, eyes puffy, and lips parted as you took deep breaths.

There’s no use crying over spilled milk, you thought. Or in my case, spilled lunch.

After composing yourself, you decide it’s time to go back out there and face the music. You toss the damp rag aside and march determinedly out of the empty washroom.  To your surprise, you smack right into another individual coming in.  You instantly recognize the blonde hair and grumbles of complaint as he reels from the collision.

“Oi, shank, watch where you’re going-”  Newt quickly realizes it’s you and clamps his mouth shut, extending his hands to each of your shoulders to steady you gently.  He takes in the sight of your tear-stained face with his eyes showing clear concern.  “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Newt looks far from convinced, and you lower your gaze.  He’s about to inquire further, but a familiar voice sounds from outside the washroom.

“Hey, _______!” Allan calls tauntingly, making you freeze up.  “How’s it going in there?”

Newt’s eyes instantly flash, and his face scrunches up anger.  You can hardly believe it when Allan continues.

“Sorry about my clumsiness earlier.  Maybe I can make it up to you.  Come on out before I go in there!”

Newt can’t contain himself anymore.  He turns on his heel and heads out of the washroom, and you follow behind just to see the look on Allan’s face when he realizes he’s been caught.

It is so worth it.  Allan’s stupid grin falls hard into a look of horror as the Second-in-Command approaches him furiously.  He doesn’t lay a hand on him, but he looks like he’s awfully close when he jabs a pointer finger in his direction.

“If I ever catch you bothering her, or even breathing in her general direction again, you’ll be a permanent Slopper for the rest of your time here in the Glade.  Do you understand, shank?”

Allan nods quickly, and doesn’t even wait to be dismissed.  He just hurries away, leaving you and Newt both standing there watching him flee.

“Coward,” he mumbles.  Then, Newt turns to you, resting a hand on your arm in a comforting gesture.  “I mean it, you know.  He’ll never bother you again.”

. . . Minho . . .

It’s hard not to panic when you glance up and can no longer see the sun above you. It’s the end of the day, and you’re nearly out of time.  The lightning pain that shoots through your ankle suddenly just becomes too much.  You lean against one of the ivy-covered walls and exhale.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” you say aloud, and the words weigh heavily on you.  You mentally scold yourself.  You can’t afford to think that way.  A Runner knows better.  With a wince, you continue limping on your way.  It’s not that the exit from the Maze isn’t close.  If memory serves you right (which it did), it wasn’t too far at all… but at your pace, it would take a lot of effort and some good luck to get you back in time.

Just when you are about to give up again, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching.  Your first thought is that perhaps your cowardly companion had a change of heart, but the footsteps didn’t match.

“Hello?” you call.

“_________!” Minho’s voice responds, and your heart swells with hope.  You aren’t out of the woods just yet, but your chances were much better with help. Minho nearly slides to a stop in front of you, instantly taking your arm and putting it around his broad shoulders to help you up.  There is no time to stop and compare notes, so you update him as he begins helping you back along the path.

“I sprained my ankle.” You hold onto Minho like he’s your lifeline as you push through the pain to keep up with his pace.  He’s right to go so fast.  Time is running out.

“Where’s Derek?” he asks with a grunt.

“He…he left me,” you gasp in pain.  “I think he was worried he wouldn’t make it out in time if he helped me.”

Minho goes quiet for a moment, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.  His eyes are focused straight ahead at the path, and he huffs.  Finally, he bites out a sarcastic comment. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s getting demoted from being a Runner.”

You keep talking, trying to distract the both of you from the familiar groan of the Maze walls shifting.  “Why did you come out here?”

“Because it was getting late in the day, and no one had seen you,” he pants.  “Usually, you check in with me right away.  I knew something had to be wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You continue limping with all your might toward the gate, feeling your heart jump, as the walls on either side begin their agonizingly slow crawl to a close.  There’s a small group standing on the other side, ushering you both out anxiously.  It was mostly Keepers, a select few who had been informed of the problem by Minho.

The two of you fell onto the green grass, gasping for breath, while the others surrounded you.  Alby knelt down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder.  You just let yourself breathe, tears welling up in your eyes from relief.

“So it’s true?” Gally questioned, brows raised.  “Derek left her in there.” “Yes,” Minho replied, sitting up.  “And he will face the consequences.”  He looked over at you, finally catching his breath.  “You’re safe now.”

. . . Gally . . .

James had been haunting your steps for far too long.  He was always there, always hanging around, and sometimes showing up at the most alarming of instances.  What could be done about it?  It wasn’t as if he’d taken severe enough action to warrant disciplinary measures, you thought.  He was only ever seen staring at you, smirking, and just being an all-around jerk at times.

This time, he’d snatched your tools away from your working station while your back was turned. After uncovering a particularly tough old root, you turned around to get a spade to chop it up, only to see that your things were gone.

A few laughs caught your attention, and you glanced over to see James and one of his shadows standing there, staring at you from several feet away.  You couldn’t say for certain, but it seemed like they had something to do with your missing tools.

So, now you’re debating with yourself on the best course of action.  Do you ignore him and try to rustle up some extra tools from Newt or Zart?  Or do you bother to give this shank the attention he’s so desperately seeking to get your stuff back?

You don’t really like the latter option.  Frankly, James gives you the creeps. The last thing you want is to play his little game… But every minute that you spend deliberating is wasted time that could be put towards helping the Glade.

As much as you despise indulging him, you find yourself marching right over to his work area.  Both James and his minion are laughing in amusement, shoving each other at the sight of you approaching.

“Do you know where my tools went?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I might,” James replies cryptically.  “And I might be willing to strike up a bargain for that information.”

You fold your arms across your chest.  “What could you possibly want?”

“Ohh, I don’t know…Perhaps a kiss will do.”

You make a face as the disgust hits you.  “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a ‘no’ for me.”  You wave off the concept, turning around.  You decided that your best bet is to find some spare tools.  This just wasn’t worth all the trouble.  Just as you start to leave, James comes running around to block you.

“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”

“Yeah, you might want to think about his offer,” James’ lackey said from behind you.  The two of them close in, and you clench your fists in preparation to fight.  If you make enough commotion, you’re sure that someone will notice and come to your aid.

You give him one last chance.  “Let me pass.”

“Come on, just one kiss.  Unless you want more than one after that-” to your relief, James is cut off by a new voice interjecting.

“What’s going on here?” The three of you turn to see Gally standing there, sweating from whatever project he was working on,with dirt and wood shavings on his clothes.  His expression looks expectant as he waits for an explanation, though his tall and bulky form makes him appear positively dangerous as he stares the two guys down with his hands resting on his hips.

“I, uh.. We…”  They break off in stutters and fumbled words.

“I’m fairly certain they have my tools,” you say, and Gally’s famous arched brows raise at the two guys in disbelief.

“Is that so?” As Gally walks forward, he plants his palms harshly on James’ shoulder, shoving him clear out of the way. James stumbles unceremoniously, almost falling straight into the grass.  Gally walks over to the bench and pauses.  He picks up a bundle of leather and tosses it to you, the tools rattling inside.  “Are those yours?”

You recognize it immediately.  “Yes, these are the ones.”

“You shanks had better never even speak to her again.  Understand?” He stares at each of them pointedly with all the authority of a Keeper, and they both nod.  With that, Gally walks up to you and ushers you away with a warm, gentle hand on your back protectively.

“Your timing was impeccable,” you say quietly.  “Thank you.”

“They won’t bother you again.  I’ll make sure of it.”

“I think you already have,” you chuckle.

#maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner reader insert #maze runner x reader #gally x reader #minho x reader #newt x reader #thomas x reader #the maze runner #maze runner gally #maze runner newt #maze runner thomas #maze runner minho #minho imagine #thomas imagine #gally imagine #newt imagine #maze runner fanfiction #tmr #tmr reader insert #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tmr minho #tmr gally #tmr x reader

[vintagepresley]

I don’t want to be this person. But I feel like that new Elvis confessions account on here is just a gateway for people to start drama and spew their hate for people in this fandom and how others choose to love Elvis or how they write about Elvis and to basically shove down our throats how to be an Elvis fan “the right way”.

I just saw one of their recent posts about basically the fandom not being the same and how people don’t care about him and how people used to talk about his music and movies. Now people in the fandom only care about writing smut about him and don’t even know his songs or movies. Then saying how calling him “big daddy” is disgusting.

Huh? What? I don’t know what part of the fandom this person is on but we are constantly talking about his music and movies. I feel like most of the people in this fandom have seen all of his movies. But also some can’t depending on where they live in the world so it could be harder for them to watch them. He’s got so much music to listen like you can’t be mad if EVERYONE hasn’t heard every single fucking song. There’s actually some people who just joined and are still learning. It’s not that serious. Stop acting like you weren’t once new to being an Elvis fan.

Why are we acting like people haven’t been writing so much smut stories about him since 2022? Before I even joined the fandom here I was literally reading soooo many smut stories about him around that time. I don’t think that’s changed. There’s so many different stories besides smut. If you don’t like smut guess what? DON’T READ IT BABE. Keep scrolling. There’s so much variety when it comes to Elvis fanfics. It’s not just smut.

Then onto the big daddy thing. That didn’t just become a thing. It’s been a thing for the past two years. How is it disgusting? Lmao. It’s never that serious and honestly no one is being disrespectful when they use that term. That man has big daddy energy. That is never a bad thing, lol.

I swear. People don’t know how to just enjoy things and not taking things so seriously and constantly complaining about literally everything. Why can’t people just enjoy things? I feel like I constantly speak up about this because I’m so tired of people telling people how they should love Elvis or how there’s a wrong and right way. I’m so tired of people making others feel like they don’t belong here. We all love and respect Elvis. We all love learning about him in every aspect of his life. So many of us do so much research and constantly read books on him because we DO see him more than just a “pretty face” more than just an “aesthetic”. He’s a huge part of our lives and we all in some way have a story about how he’s impacted us or what he’s done for us. Doesn’t mean we can’t joke about things or like make unhinged posts. Life doesn’t always have to be taken so seriously.

Lighten up. Elvis would be bothered by how uptight some of you are.

Thank you for coming to my Elvis ted talk. ☺️

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fandom #elvis fans #start being kinder to each other in this fandom

[acourtofthought]

I don't know if I'm being petty, but I like to think that some of Elain's actions toward Azriel are just foreshadowing for Elucien's dynamic. For example, Lucien is very thoughtful about his choices for Elain's gifts, and Elain is invested in the presents she gives to others, including Azriel, even if it's in the form of a prank. This makes me think that receiving gifts will be one of their main love languages.

The scene where Elain called Azriel's scars beautiful could mean that if Lucien still holds any insecurities regarding his scars, it'd be no problem at all for his mate to help him realize how gorgeous he is, inside and out.

And, most of all, the theme of choice would fit so much better in an Elucien romance. I mean, Azriel isn't the one banned from two courts, prohibited to see his mother, exiled in a strange land, the one who has only two humans (who will die in a few decades compared to a fae immortal life) as his only friends, and he's definitely not the one being ignored by his mate and fearful of her rejection. If there's a character who deserves (plot-wise) to be chosen, it's definitely Lucien.

Besides, it would make so much sense with Elain's and Lucien's characters and with the development of their relationship. The fact that Lucien respects her time and space (or his passivity, as some like to call it) allows Elain to make the choice of pursuing the bond when she feels comfortable and secure enough. She'd also have more agency than her sisters in the beginning of their relationships.

But these are just thoughts.

Thank you for your blog and your theories and thoughts. You make me feel hopeful not only for an Elucien's endgame, but also that they really have the chance to get the next book. You have been a light in the end of this three-years-length tunnel.

P.S. I also have a guess that the announcement will be on May 1st. Hope we are right!

Also, the scene where Elain called Az's scars pretty could actually have been Elain calling his siphons pretty because Feyre wasn't sure what she was looking at.

However, I do agree that Elain is going to find Lucien's face devastatingly handsome and the reason for that kind of ties into her mother. Which sounds weird but I'll try to explain.

Her mother made assumptions about her, that she did not dream beyond her pretty dresses and gardens and that she would marry for love and "beauty". So of course, Elain tried to follow those expectations, getting engaged to exactly who her mother would have imagined for her.

I know Elain loved Graysen and probably found him handsome but he seems cookie cutter. Even Feyre said, he was sort of the human ideal of a lord come to sweep a maiden off her feet.

Lucien's face isn't perfect. He's handsome no doubt but he has long hair (no proper mother would approve of that), a scar running down his face and his eye. He is not the image of a baby faced Lord set to inherit his fathers estate someday. He's cruelly beautiful and looks dangerous and, we're all human here, that's going to thrill the "good girls" which everyone assumes Elain to be. Graysen is the kind of guy you have missionary sex with while the lights are out. Lucien is the kind of guy you are willing to do anything, anywhere with and that's probably a bit overwhelming for Elain given her upbringing. Right now, she's still stuck in the past, how she was raised, the kind of guy her mother proclaimed she would marry rather than embracing what lights her up like a pinball machine but I have no doubt once she does break free she's going to make sure he knows exactly how appealing she finds him because of the scars, the hair, the eye. Because of how it all comes together.

And I agree regarding the gifts! I think we see bits of Elain's personality around members of the IC but she never fully blooms, it's like a quick flash then it's gone. I could see Elain and Lucien teasing one another on regular days, silly gifts, sweet little gifts, but the important days I think will be when they reserve the really thoughtful, heartfelt gifts for.

With choice, I wonder if it's so much about that as fight.

(that sounds weird too but I wasn't sure how to word it).

What I mean by that is Lucien was chosen by Jesminda. He was chosen by Tamlin. He was chosen by many friends of which we're told he has many. He was chosen by the LoA as her favorite son. The problem is nobody fought to keep him.

The same with Elain. She was chosen by Graysen, she was "chosen" by Azriel, she was chosen by the chef and servants who wanted to do nice things for her, she was chosen by her many friends. But, none of them fought for her either. When things got hard they walked away.

Lucien and Elain are parallel in that they're just accepting life as it happens to them, trying to accept that when one door closes (to their dismay) and another opens, they roll with it even if they're not happy. They haven't learned to fight for themselves, possibly because they are used to not being fought for and as a result they try not to ask for much because they realize how expendable they are to others.

But in their book, I think they'll push past that to fight for what they do want and they will fight for one another. Lucien has been doing that so far when it comes to Elain. He is the one person who despite the odds did not walk away from her. Graysen gave up after Elain was turned. Az gave up easily, moved right onto feeling calm because of another female, admiring another female, thinking of another females eyes light up, even though Elain was probably upset after his rejection for the simple fact that any rejection hurts. But Lucien though he hasn't pushed her, has quietly fought for her for two years, by showing that he is still loyal to her and only her. And I imagine we'll also see Elain begin to fight for Lucien. Fighting against those who have wronged him, fighting for him to understand that he's not guilty for Jesminda's death or what happened to Feyre, etc.

Your last paragraph before the P.S. (May 1, May 1!!!) was so incredibly sweet and I wish I had better words to thank you for it.

I hope you have a fantastic day and I appreciate your message!

#elain archeron #elucien #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro elain archeron #pro lucien vanserra #elucien supremacy #elain x lucien #elucien headcanon #character deep dive

[avalikesf19]

A Day at quadrant: LN4 (Part 2)

Author note: I don’t even know how to post anything on this and never wrote a fic but I hope this is good but I think it’s pretty shit and I haven’t finished it yet and if any writers want to use this idea you can for sure just @ me please oh and if you have feedback please let me know thanks xx

Also i tried to change my like writing style thing cause i feel like it was shit last time but yeah idk

Lando x quadrant fem reader

Blurb: reader is a member of quadrant, she games most of the time but also likes f1 along with her best friend Ria bish. She is friends with all members at quadrant and finds it a good laugh with all her mates, but maybe her view of someone in particular is more than a mate..

Warnings: sexualising, swearing, mention of a gun, leaked tape, sad distraught reader, friends to maybe lovers if I make it a series? Smut-ish? If I missed any let me know (I don’t know how to do warnings sorry x)

Well wasn't last week a fucking eventful week. You still cant stop thinking about Lando right next to you comforting you about what happened. You're starting to feel better about the whole issue and get some support from people online and all the other members of quadrant, but fuck that was just shit. You haven't been in any quadrant videos since, but you're in a better place now and probably need to start participating in them more.

Lando and ethan make the idea of quadrant meeting up at landos apartment and trying to train like him for a day. You aren't exactly looking foward to it but oh well, at least Ria is going. You text your gc back and tell them that you will do it too. Then, you get a message.

Lando: are you 100% sure ur okay to come back and film already? you dont have to if you dont want to.

Y/n: yep. I need to get in more videos and im feeling better anyways, thanks for asking.

Lando: all good

Well that was polite and unexpected of Lando to reach out, but whats more unexpected is for your panties to be soaked right now over 2 text messages. well fuck, oopsies.

That night all you can think of is Lando, it's a bit embarrassing to admit, but he was circling around your head like it was an f1 race. You decide to get your head out of it and call Ria to come over and have a chat, since she is your best friend after all. Shortly she pulls up to your apartment in Monaco, funning in bursting of excitement to see you.

"RIAAAAAAA!" you shout when you open the door for her. "Y/NNNN" she replied back. You give her a hug and make her a cup of coffee just how she likes it. You guys sit and chat about the f1 grand prix in Bahrain coming up, and how you hope Lando continues to have a good season with Oscar this year. "Did you see the chat about the new yt vid we doing" You ask Ria. "omg yes and they are bringing angry ginge in I heard" Ria replies back.

"STOP IT" you yell back laughing. You love ginge and his videos, who wouldn't? he's a very very funny bloke. "OMG i''m definitely coming tomorrow then to the recording are you kidding?".

Unfortunately time goes by when you're having fun, and Ria was the most fun, so she had to go a few hours later which felt like minutes. Besides you both need sleep for the youtube vid you're filming tmr at Lando's. You go to bed and try to sleep as much as you can, which didnt happen lol.

rise and shine love. It's already 6am and time to go to Lando's place to film. Normally you don't have to wakeup early as fuck but for the purpose of the video and "being Lando Norris" you had no choice. You get to his apartment after parking at the front and knock on the door, to which he opens. "hi y/n" he says nicely and gives you a hug. "So good to see you Lando, where is everyone?".

"first here mate" he says almost excitedly. "so what are we actually doing today like playing video games or some shit" you say. "haha your funny mate, we are lifting weights, eating what i eat, using the sim, and neck strengthening" he says laughing at you. "fuck r u taking the piss" you say laughing. "oh my days Landoooo do I look like an f1 driver" you also reply with. "well yeah thats the whole point of the video ya dumb fuck" he replied jokingly.

"hahaha get fucked lando nowins" you snap back. he laughs as you proceed to miss the chair you went to lean on making you flinch and stumble looking like an idiot. he is still laughing which makes you laugh too. "Lando norizz" u reply. "haha you think I have no rizz, funny" he replies egotistically. "yeah i do actually" you don't at all, in fact he hasn't even tried yet he has rizzed you up. "wanna bet?" he snaps out.

you don't have time to think before he pins you against the wall and just looks at you with those hot eyes of his. you can already feel your cheeks burning and your thong getting wet. "you say I have no rizz yet your cheeks are burning, and I bet those panties are more soaked than that porridge you tipped over the counter when you stumbled at my gaze, huh?" he grunts out.

what the fuck just happened, first how did he know and secondly did he just pin you against the wall. not the first time you want that to happen. you know what fuck it if we wants to be like that then he may as well be uncomfortable the whole video.

"how did you know about my tight, black lacy thong i'm wearing over my tight pussy hey? not your first time thinking about it aye?" you tease him, but whole walking over to him you see him looking uneasy.

why? because ginge was at the fucking door and heard that, and can see Lando's boner from a mile away. "well bonjour" ginge says laughing. "bonjour mate" lando says as he daps up ginge covering his boner and trying to ignore what just happened.

You already know this video is gonna be the longest set of your life..

sorry its a short one x

#lando norris #formula 1 #quadrant #ln4 #f1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #lando fic