#he can and will drag them to hell and back

[beejunos]

SPEAK TO ME | Sneak peek [Alastor x f.reader] | SMUT (mdni)

Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.

Did someone ask for an Alastor voice kink fic?! This is only a sneak peek! I hope to finish this little smutty story in about two days.

Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room. 

"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!" 

Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on. 

You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. You left the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you. 

The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent. 

You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex. 

Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak. 

Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hand, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard. 

Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.

One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear. 

You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.

You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. 

You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer. 

You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.

You are so, so close.

"What are you doing, my dear?" 

Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes. 

His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you. 

"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched." 

Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red. 

Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked in your bed. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago. 

"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?" 

Shaking all over, you reached for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut

[neowonderland]

Bully! Haechan + Breeding

Pairing: Bully Haechan x reader Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon, drugging, babytrapping, breeding Wc: 0.9k

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Haechan swears he hates you.

He swears he hates everything about you, from your full cheeks to your lips that you bite in concentration, to your soft voice, to the way you’re such a pushover for others, to the way you stumble over your words when you get nervous. 

Haechan makes it apparent he hates you too, from the way he complains about you to anyone near him to the way he insults you. Haechan complains that you’re too much of a pushover, you’re too weak, you’re too annoying, you’re too pudgy, you’re too ugly. Of course Haechan makes it known that he thinks that way to your face too, always stating that your existence is an inconvenience to him, something that can’t be solved unless you were to fully disappear from this world because even if you transferred universities you’d still exist and inconvenience him.

 You don’t remember much, remembering being dragged to a party by a couple of friends, spotting Haechan with his friend. You’re not sure which one of his friends had been flirting with you and handed you a drink that you had drunk. Maybe that’s when you had started feeling strange, head beginning to get dizzy, body burning up, memory blanking. 

You can’t really remember how you ended up in Haechan’s bed, memories and head spinning as you lie and stare at the ceiling trying to ignore Haechan on top of you.

Haechan feels cold, his ice cold hands running across the expanse of your stomach and body, squeezing and groping at your flesh. It would feel nice against your flushed skin if it wasn’t Haechan. But, your heavy limbs and fuzzy head made it hard to fight back against his touches, leaving you pliant in Haechan’s hands. 

“You’re such a slut, going to that party and flirting with Jaemin. Do you not get fucked enough? Is that why you went for my friend?” Haechan says mockingly.

You try to shake your head to no avail, leaving you to only stare at him. 

Haechan lets out a laugh, hand gripping your cheeks and forcing you to nod, “That’s the correct answer. You’re lucky I’m great at doing charity. You know how many people would kill to be in your position?”

Haechan moves to run his tongue against your nipples, tongue laving over your sensitive skin before harshly sucking. Haechan works to mark the skin of your chest with red splotches and marks, teeth sinking into your skin alongside his sucking. He only stops to pull his shirt over his head, hands work quickly to take off his clothing and throw them to a corner of the room. 

It’s not until Haechan’s marks run up your neck that Haechan stops, sitting back and proudly admiring his work. His hands reach for his phone halfway before freezing and withdrawing. You can hear him mumble “not this time.” 

Haechan’s hands grip your legs, uncaring of the yelp you let out when he folds you in half. He presses against the back of your thighs with his arm while he lines himself up with your entrance. Haechan teases your entrance and your clit, covering his head with your slick. Alarm bells ring in your head and you try to tell him to stop, to use protection, to do anything but this but everything comes out unintelligible, garbled and slurred. 

The stretch is painful without proper prep and it feels like you’re being divided into two when Haechan enters you. You’re in hell, helpless, burning up and in pain while it looks as if Haechan is in heaven. His eyes flutter shut while he lets out a loud moan. Haechan’s head dips down as he forces his eyes open to drink in your pained facial expression. 

“If I knew your pussy would be so tight, I would’ve fucked you sooner.” Haechan says through gritted teeth as he begins to thrust into you shallowly. You can feel the drag of him in your walls and your body producing more slick, easing his thrusts. Whatever you had drunk seemed to be wearing off, allowing your fingers to dig into your palm to ground yourself. 

“Look how wet you are, so ready for me. I knew you were a slut, getting off on me.” Haechan says as he increases his pace. You can feel him putting his weight on you, crushing you between him and the bed. You can feel the head of his length bashing against your cervix, his drooling tip crushing it in every thrust. 

“Fuck I’m going to cum, going to breed you, going to knock you up. You’re going to be full of my cum and my kid. You’re going to look so much better round with my kid. You’ll be all mine. Everyone will know you’re mine. You won’t even think of leaving me.” Haechan babbles, shifting his weight completely on you.

It’s not until tears begin dripping down your face that Haechan cums with a shiver and whine, filling you up. Haechan moves your legs out of the way, collapsing onto you and burying his head into your neck. 

It’s not until he rises and flips you on your stomach that you realize he wasn’t just babbling, that you’re in for a long night.

#nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #dark nct #nct dream x reader #nct smut #lee haechan #nct haechan #haechan hard hours #haechan x reader smut #haechan x reader #haechan smut #tw: noncon #tw: drugging #tw: breeding #haechan hard thoughts

[merakiui]

MERA IVE BEEN HAVING THIS THOUGHT AND I THINK YOURE THE RIGHT PERSON TO SHARE IT WITH BC ITS SO PERFECT FOR THE TWEELS 😭

A long time ago, back when i was a teenager and still a wattpad girly, I read this one really good story called "Family Comes First" about a family of cannibals that lives in the middle of nowhere. They only keep boy children who are born, no daughters. Whenever a boy turns a certain age (I think 21 but I cant really rmbr), the father goes out to the nearest city, interviews girls under the guise of offering them a job, and kidnaps the best one as a birthday gift and bride. The mother-in-law teaches the new girl how to be a good wife (cleaning, cooking that strange meat, etc.), and the husband is otherwise responsible for his wife, to the point of selecting and laying out her clothing every morning. The ultimate honour is to birth a son, and so the husbands are CONSTANTLY trying to get their wives knocked up. I can't help but imagine Jade and Floyd in a story like this, it suits them perfectlyyyyy

In the book, one of the boys ended up catching feelings for brother's wife (the main character) instead of his own, and it causes fights serious drama in the family. This works so well with the recent ideas about Jade stealing Floyd's cute little wifey except it would be even better for them because they're twins and Jade can pull all his nasty tricks 😭 maybe when she finally gets knocked up with a son, they won't know who it belongs to, because he looks just like his daddy, but the potential daddies look the sammmeee OTZ

Oh oh oh and imagine if reader tries to escape and the family decides to let her try. Let her have fun. Hell, they even join in on the fun. She was blindfolded when they brought her and she's never been out of the house before, so she doesn't know her way around the woods, whereas the men in this family have been hunting humans for sport and food in these woods for generations. Now she's lost in the dark forest with daddy leech and the tweels rapidly closing in on her. She's going to be taught a lesson after they drag her home. After all, she lost the game, and losers never get rewards >_<

OHHH!!! Omg that concept is perfect for the tweels!!!! And they would absolutely draw out the chase in the forest just to scare you even more. Maybe then, after spending an entire day and night being hunted like a wild animal, you'll learn your home is with them. There's no point in running from your family, after all.

Hehe running from the three of them and you injure yourself, so now you're even more panicked because what if they can smell the cut on your leg? What if they can hear your pained grunts as you drag yourself along, limping through the forest? >_< omg and it doesn't matter who finds you; it's going to be frightening either way. Floyd who drags you out of your hiding place by the ankles, or Jade who stands over you as he patiently waits for you to take notice of him. Or Papa Leech wrapping you up in big, strong, scarred arms to carry you back to the house. Maybe you're kicking and screaming all the way, and it's useless to struggle because there's no one else out here for stretches. Just you and your family, who care so very much for you. You should be grateful! Mr. Leech's sons fight over you to be named your husband. Aren't you lucky to have the two of them? Most of all, aren't you lucky you're alive and not on their murderous menu?

AAAAAA and Papa Leech picks your clothes for you going forwards! They were far too patient and lenient with you before, far too forgiving. Now you're living under a new schedule, a fresh set of rules. Your clothes are selected for you, and your meals are prepared in advance (gone are the days in which you were given choices; each meal is healthy and has properties meant to boost your fertility). When you aren't learning to be the perfect housewife, you're getting bent over every possible surface and bred by the twins. Or if the twins can't behave, then maybe Papa Leech ought to knock you up instead........... thinking thoughts.

In conclusion, the entire family is crazy and you're stuck with them forever. orz

#twisted chit chat

[mariasont]

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus - S.R

a/n: im so sorry in advance

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x reader

summary: in which spencer needed you but he needed drugs more

warnings: drug use, angst, imperfect characters

wc: 2.9k

December 19th, 2021

You were tired, each movement a chore as you fumbled with the key and heaved the door open to your shared apartment. It welcomed you with its hushed darkness, broken only by the intrusive light of the streetlamps outside, which bled through the windows and stretched shadows across the room.

It was quiet, too quiet. Keys clinked quickly onto the counter. "Spence? Are you here?"

No answer. Your brows contracted in a frown as you moved with increased urgency through the apartment, heading down the hall to your shared bedroom. There he was, on the bed, his back to you, shoulders tensed and drawn up as though bracing against something.

At the creak of the door, he turned towards you in a slow motion, his eyes glossed over, movements sluggish. The signs were unmistakable--the ghostly colorlessness draped over his skin, the faint tremor in his hands, the beads of sweat on his forehead.

His speech was slurred whether he realized it or not, words melding into each other. "Hey... I didn't hear you come in."

A cold hand gripped at your heart, dragging it down to the soles of your feet, as the vial on the bedside table glared back at you.

"Spencer, you promised," your words trailed off, choked by the tears that now glistened at the edge of your eyes, your hand dragging through your hair, while the other reached out for the bottle. "You promised me."

His gaze lingered on you, heavy and slow, as if each movement you made was effortful to follow. "I...I know. I just...I tried."

"But we've been doing so well. The therapy sessions, the support groups. I thought it was helping. You told me it was helping. You've been clean for a month."

You were trembling, your eyes searching his, but you could barely stand to look at him. It was a bitter pill that you didn't want to swallow--that the person he was right now wasn't him. It wasn't the man you loved, the one who stayed up late to braid your hair, the man who laughed at your jokes even when they weren't funny and he didn't understand them, the man you envisioned as the father of your children.

"What happened?"

"I didn't mean to."

June 2nd, 2021

You were humming to yourself, the melody trailing off as you placed your bag down, but your steps towards the refrigerator halted by the unexpected clatter from the bathroom. You froze in the spot—Spencer should be at work. Your heart was pounding, with a boyfriend who did what he did for a living you were always prepared for the worst.

Your hand found the pepper spray in your bag as you inched forward, the distance to the bathroom shrinking with each pulse of your racing heart. The door was barely open, but the sliver of view revealed Spencer, syringe clutched tightly, his damning evidence, desperation drawn across his face.

"Spencer? What are you doing?"

Shock rooted you to the spot, watching him spin around--a ghost of himself, eyes alarmingly wide and bloodshot, as he furtively tucked the syringe out of sight.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Your body reacts before your mind can, pulling away sharply from the venom in his voice. It's a voice you don't recognize. He didn't even speak to you like that during arguments. Confusion clouds your mind as you retreat, one cautious step after another.

"I...I forgot my lunch. I came home to grab it. Spencer, are you okay? What was that?"

His face crumbled, his hand outstretched in a silent plea, but you, still trembling with apprehension, still unsure, took another step back, your gut twisting at the way hurt reflected in his gaze.

"I can't—it's not what it looks like, okay?"

"But it is, isn't it?" Your hands are clasped behind you, knuckles white, eyes searching his face for something, anything. "It's exactly what it looks like. You're using."

His shoulders sag, his hand reaching behind him to stable himself on the counter as he ran a hand over his face. You were well-acquainted with his past; though you hadn't been there, his stories painted a hauntingly clear picture. If the man responsible wasn't already dead, you'd take him out with your own bare hands. 

"But Spencer it's been eight years... what? I just, why now?"

He gave you no response, just the slow, defeated bob of his head, chin sinking to his chest. You released a weary breath, the act itself a release of the pain that tightened around your heart at the sight of him. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching out, fingers aching to weave through the strands of his hair.

"Hey, look at me, it's okay. We can get you help, okay? Everything's going to be fine, baby."

"No!" His voice erupted, too forceful, but it faded as fast as it came, his words turning to a raw scratch. "No, no... 'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't let this get out. I could lose my job."

Tears carved a path down your cheeks, unchecked, as you held his gaze, hands fastened around his arms.

"Spencer, I don't care about your job right now. I care about you," you plead with him, your fingers slipping between his. "You need help."

"You wouldn't get it, okay?" he murmured, his curls tumbling forward as his hands left yours to gently cup your face. His hands were cold. "Just give me some time to handle it. I'll stop, okay? I can stop."

You were silent, the lack of experience of the situation paralyzing your thoughts, rendering you unsure. How were you supposed to go about this? Who could you tell? You knew the consequences of telling Hotch or even Morgan, knew the depression that would follow if Spencer lost his job. You wanted to believe him; you really did.

"Okay."

December 19th, 2021

"Okay, let's do rehab."

Spencer stands from the bed, invading your space, his voice rising with a sharp edge that was reserved for moments like this. "I'm not letting you ship me away to some facility."

"Spencer, it's not shipping you away, it's getting you help, real help. I gave you a chance, okay? Multiple, actually. I did what you asked. I did everything you asked, please baby."

With each step he took, his actions grew increasingly erratic, and his words more fragmented, as he raked his fingers through his tousled hair. "You don't understand! I watched my mom, her experience with those places... I won't end up like that."

You lowered your voice, infusing it with a softness as you extended your hand towards him, only for him to dismissively shake off your touch. "Please, you're not yourself. You are so much more than this... than what it's making you."

"You don't think I know that? You think I want this?"

You took a step back, an action that had become second nature to you.

"I know. Spence, I know. Please, I'm on your side. I'm always going to be on your side," you pleaded. Your words were desperate. "I just need you to fight, and sometimes fighting is accepting that you need help."

The eyes that had once held such clarity and focus, now seemed distant, looking through you rather than at you. His words a blurred murmur. "I can stop. I just need time... I can handle it."

The familiarity of the words seemed to hit you like a truck, robbing the breath out of your lungs, tears and snot trickling down your face.

"How much time, Spence? How many more chances? I can't watch the man I love disappear before my eyes, please."

August 12th, 2021

Your back throbbed with a dull ache from a day of cleaning, but the task, weirdly enough, was one of your favorite things to do. Your fingers drummed against the wood as you started to put away Spencer's laundry, only to be interrupted by the unexpected feel of something cold and hard in the drawer. You knew it before you saw it. Inside, a collection of vials lay in a row, mocking you. 

Your heart plummeted, fingers curling around the vials, the chill of the glass seeming to seep into your skin. You felt a scream clawing at your throat and tears brimming your eyes, but your voice was trapped in silence. Each step was fueled by anger as you made your way to the bathroom. The toilet bowl gaped at you, and without hesitation, you flung the drugs into the water, freezing mid-action as the front door opened. 

Footsteps—his footsteps—echoed as if he had a sixth sense. "What the hell are you doing?"

You reached for the flush, only for his hand to encase yours in a startling grip, your eyes flaring wide as you tore your hand back. "Let go of me."

"You have no right."

"Yeah, Spencer? I have no right?" You hiss, shoving him just enough to carve out some distance. You couldn't breathe. "Why do you still have this? You told me you stopped."

You watched as he crumbled before you, tears prickling at his eyes. Each breath you took was unsteady, but your actions were certain as you pressed him into you, as close as humanly possible. Desperation clawed at you; you wanted this to stop. You wanted to take his pain, to make it yours, you'd do anything.

"'M sorry," he choked out, barely audible, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other clung to your waist. "I'm so sorry."

December 19th, 2021

"So, I'm the one at fault?"

"That's not what I'm saying—,"

Neither of you were making sense now; his confusion mirrored your own, and both of you knew this. You were angry, he was angry, both of you a well of grief, feeling everything and nothing simultaneously. 

"Well, it sure sounds like it Spencer."

"I just need...space."

The words bit you on the ass, prompting a hollow laugh to rise from your throat--a sound that bore a closer resemblance to a mangled sob than anything.

"Space? You don't get space, Spencer." Your words didn't sound like yourself, like you were listening to someone else speak them. 

May 23rd, 2019

You were sweet. It was what had first drawn Spencer to you, the way you radiated a warmth that was almost overwhelming to everyone. You were the kind of person who never met a stranger, nurtured by your innate effort to go out of your way to put a smile on people's faces.

There you stood, delicately snipping away at a bouquet's ends, a soft hum escaping your lips, with blue headphones nestled over your ears, isolating you in a peaceful bubble as you worked. You hadn't seen him approach, frankly, hadn't heard him either, so when you chanced a glance upwards, his unexpected figure prompted a yelp, sending the flowers tumbling to the ground in a colorful cascade.

In a clumsy rush, your headphones were swept off, a stream of apologies tumbling from your lips as you absorbed the sight of him. Short brown hair that framed a face with eyes so stunningly brown they shimmered like molten gold in the light, and he was impeccably dressed in a grey blazer over a rich red sweater, with a crocked tie and white dress shirt underneath. 

You thought he'd have to be dying of heat, but he didn't show it.

"Sorry," he murmured, a toothless smile spreading wide across his face as he dipped his head for a closer glimpse of you.

Under the weight of his gaze, you felt a sudden surge of self-awareness, regretting not putting a little more effort into your appearance that morning.

"No, that's my bad, I should really try and pay attention to my surroundings more often."

He gave you another smile in response and that one nearly killed you, teeth and all, and it was so disarmingly handsome it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck, almost knocking the wind out of you. 

You were seized by the kind of overwhelming yearning you'd only seem in those cheesy romance movies. You wanted to ask him out, but that was a first for you, so you found yourself blatantly ogling him, utterly transfixed.

"Do you work here?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Sorry, how can I help you?"

"Do you have any bouquets with Lathyrus odoratus?" he asked, eyes roving among the arrangements. "They're a member of the Facabeae family. Interestingly, they have the unique capability to convert atmospheric nitrogen into a more usable form through nitrogen fixation."

You gave him a lopsided smile. "Do you just know that?"

"Uh, yeah."

You hummed in response, fingers tapping the counter before moving between aisles to find what he was looking for. "These?"

"Perfect," he said with a nod.

As you assembled the bouquet, your hands moved nimbly, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at his left hand--no ring in sight, a promising detail. But he was buying flowers, that couldn't be a good sign for you.

"Your girlfriend will be ecstatic with these beauties."

You thought you were being slick, but he'd later tell you he saw right through you, I mean, of course he did.

"Oh, no, no girlfriend," he clarified, almost too quickly, sending a flutter through you heart. You concealed your budding smile by bowing your head, giving the bouquet your full attention. "They're for my mother."

You practically melted. "That's so sweet..." 

You lingered on the words, feigning the need to ask for his name, it was a stretch, sure, you didn't really need his name in this context.

"Spencer. Spencer Reid."

You returned your name with a beaming smile. "Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Spencer Reid."

You presented him with the completed bouquet, ringing him up while discreetly stealing glances his way.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, anytime."

He came back every week after that.

December 19th, 2021

"You're not the person I fell in love with."

Now that stung. You felt like he had just knocked you on your ass and he hadn't laid a hand on you. Mostly because he was right. You weren't. 

You were on edge more than not, your patience wearing thin more than you'd like to acknowledge, and you couldn't remember the last time you had flirted with Spencer like you used to. You couldn't remember the last time you begged for him to come to bed just to feel his arms around you, couldn't remember the last time he'd come home early just to see you, the last time you'd had sex.

You used to be so happy. You used to surprise Spencer with his favorite homemade cookies, leave hand drawn comics on his desk, carefully adjust his tie every morning, listen so intently to every lengthy explanation he had for everything.

You wanted to blame him, wanted to scream, to fight, to kick, but your body refused to cooperate. You were cemented in place, your stare heavy, silently begging him to take it all back, but the words hung in the air, unrevoked.

"You're right." A softness flickered in his eyes, his hand moving forward, but you stepped back. "Don't touch me."

"I didn't mean that—,"

"You meant it, or you wouldn't have said it," you said, your voice cracking as tears stained your face. "I can't keep doing this, Spencer. I've tried, god knows how much I've tried, but it's like you're not even here. I don't recognize my own reflection, let alone us. I love you, Spencer, with a love so deep it fucking scares me, but I can't stand by and watch you kill yourself."

April 23rd, 2024

"One sec!"

The bell over the door jingled, prompting you to snap the inventory boxes closed, nudging them back with your hip as you maneuvered through the storefront, balancing the boxes towards the desk. 

"Here let me help!"

The boxes obscured your view, but a hand with neatly polished nails gracefully relieved you of one, placing it gently on the ground.

You let out a light laugh, easing your own box to the floor. "Thanks, I somehow always underestimate the weight of soil."

The woman was breathtaking, the kind that could make you second-guess the fairness of fate. She seemed more suited to the glossy pages of a fashion magazine than the worn-down, way overdue for a deep clean, flower shop.

"How can I help you?"

"Just a dozen roses, please."

You offered her a brief nod, reaching for one of the pre-arranged roses from the shelf behind you and placing it down on the counter.

"Could you leave a note?" she asked, her glittering finger lightly pressing against the fabric of her dress. Now that was a rock.

"Of course," you say, your hand deftly sliding open the drawer beneath you to retrieve a card. "Just let me know what you want it to say."

As she spoke, your pen hurried to keep pace. "A year of marriage and a lifetime to go."

You flashed her a warm smile. "Congratulations. Who should I make it out to?"

"Spencer. Spencer Reid."

Nausea churned in your gut, somersaulting into a sharp, searing sting. This must be some cruel joke. But the date wasn't April 1st, and the woman's serious expression stripped away any hope of humor. 

You swallowed hard, writing the name of the man you'd thought would be your husband. While ringing her up, you did everything in your power to conceal the tremble in your hand and the tears that were just moments away from falling. He hated roses.

Your eyes followed her as she left, watching her every step to the car and out of the parking lot, until she was just a speck in the distance. The realization hit you like another wave of nausea--why could he get clean for her and not you?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Ten

Summary:

It's bowling time! You and the gang get a little closer over this highly unsexy game. Definitely no sexy things will happen in this chapter. No, don't look at the tags. Stop, what are you doing.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, rough kisses, fantasies of bondage, cumming in pants, vampire bites/blood drinking, conversations about academic research, semi-public semi-sex

So I didn't actually mean to wait a week and a half between posting chapter 10 on AO3 and posting it here, but as a result, I can tell you that the un-beta'd chapter 11 is now up on my Kofi! You can read it for free, or you can wait until it's fully edited on AO3. Up to you, guy.

As always, @zipzoomzaria is responsible for the devastatingly handsome professor in the banner.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Admittedly, you kind of delight in the look on Astarion’s face as you cross the threshold into the bowling alley. His nose wrinkles while his eyes dart around the space, cataloging everything from the stained black and neon rainbow carpet, to the bored employee sitting in front of rows and rows of dirty rental shoes, to the group of noisy teengers eating nachos covered with a thick liquid cheese.

He lets out a low growl and you giggle, almost giddy at the evening ahead of you. There is absolutely no chance in hell you’ll be able to do anything even remotely sexual in this environment. You grab his hand and drag him over to the shoe rental.

“Hi, can I get a 7 ½?” you ask the employee, and they languidly pull their chin off their hand and turn around to grab the shoes.  Astarion hovers behind you, still uncomfortably taking everything in. You take the shoes from the employee and drop them in front of you, stepping out of your flats and into the bowling shoes.

“Ugh, gods, I don't know why you insist on taking part in this,” he says with a sneer, well within earshot of the employee, whose eyes have already started to glaze back over. “It’s not enough to put your fingers into a grease-coated ball, you choose to play dress up with a hundred other people’s feet?”

“I mean I wouldn’t choose to, I just have to if I want to actually do the bowling part of it,” you tell him as you wiggle your ankle to get the shoe to settle.

“Sorry, what?”

You had been waiting for this moment and you try to hide your glee as you say, “Yeah, you have to rent special shoes so you don’t fuck up the floor.”

His face remains frozen for a moment in a look of utter disgust as he processes what you said. “So you’re telling me,” he drawls, waving his finger like a disgruntled valley girl, “that in order to play this asinine game that you’re making me play, I must pay money to let my feet bask in the foot sweat residue of several hundred strangers?”

“You also have to leave your shoes with them while they’re rented,” you add, handing your flats over to the employee, who slips them in the cubby whence they retrieved your rental shoes. Astarion splutters incoherently.

“That’s it, you’ve lost me, this was a very cute idea but I am absolut–” You grab his hand as he starts storming away and pull him back towards the rental counter.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!” You grasp his hand in both of yours, an exaggerated gesture of a pleading child. “Just do it for me, please?”

He scowls at your beaming face for a moment before rolling his eyes and approaching the counter again.

“I’ll take a 9 ½,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. The employee continues to display an almost impressive amount of apathy as they grab the requested size. Astarion makes a show of his disgust as he takes off his patent leather oxfords and puts on the grubby shoes that were presumably red and blue at one point. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth and your grin widens.

“You absolutely will not,” you tease. He stands suddenly, closer than you had realized, and looms over you.

“Would you like to test that theory?” he hums in a low voice, and your breath catches in your throat. He turns away from your reddening face with a smug sense of satisfaction as he hands his shoes to the employee. He starts to walk away when their voice interrupts him.

“Sir, you need to pay for those,” they call out halfheartedly. He turns around to you, just staring back innocently.

“Oh, I’m paying,” he confirms blankly, and you shrug.

“You’re the one with tenure, you make more than me,” you state matter-of-factly. He scowls again but doesn’t protest, and instead just taps his phone on the pin pad.

You scan the lanes to see if you can spot any of your friends. Gale sees you and waves you over to where he and Wyll are sitting together stiffly. Shadowheart and Karlach aren’t here yet. 

“Hello, there,” he calls, grateful to see faces he recognizes. A paper boat of fries sits on the table between them, along with two plastic cups of water.

“Any word from Karlach?” you ask Wyll, leaning over the hard plastic bench to grab a fry.

“She apologized, she said they’d be here soon,” he replies, glancing at the text from her.

“Took them longer to get ready than they expected,” you say with a grin, and Wyll clears his throat, cheeks darkening slightly.

“Oh Tav, have you caught up with If Books?” Gale asks you, taking off his glasses to clean them with his knit sweater vest.

“Yes, I couldn’t stop listening to it,” you reply enthusiastically, “some episodes have been very illuminating.” You cast a quick glance at Astarion and he petulantly shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet. “But it’s so hard waiting for each new one,” you add, and Gale nods.

“Yes, and they’ve switched from a bimonthly schedule to a monthly schedule, so the wait is even longer,” he agrees.

“What’s up, fuckers?” Karlach’s voice booms across the lanes and Astarion mutters, “Oh thank the gods,” under his breath. Shadowheart and Karlach saunter over, Karlach double fisting pitchers of a pale amber beer. She puts them down onto the table, only one of them sloshing beer over the edge. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at Astarion, sizing him up.

“Shade, this is Astarion, Astarion, this is my best friend Shadowheart,” you awkwardly introduce them to try to cut the tension as early as possible.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Shadowheart says with disdain, looking down her nose at Astarion. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Only the best, I’m sure,” he lobs back. “Funny, I don’t think she’s mentioned you.” You shoot Astarion a dirty look as Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. You can tell that she’s unaccustomed to sparring with someone who has as much snark as her, but the verdict is still out on whether or not it’s a good thing.

Oblivious to the heated standoff behind her, Karlach types away at the console, putting in slightly wrong initials for everyone and giggling maniacally as she does. In order, the names say ASS, TAV, CAR, SAD, GIL, and WIL.

“Soldier over here’s lucky, her name is already three letters,” she laughs and winks at you. Astarion fiddles with the roll of his sleeve and looks at the ball return with apprehension.

“I suppose my ‘ass’ is first?” He hits Karlach with the look over the glasses and she throws her head back, cackling like a hyena. 

“Good on ya, Cardigan, there’s a sense of humor under that mop after all.” She kicks the toe of her red and white shoe at him from where she’s sitting, but he dodges out of the way. He walks up to the ball return and shudders before he decides on one, visibly gagging as he picks it up.

“Okay you drama queen, we get it, it’s gross,” you laugh at him, “now just knock as many pins down as you can, okay?”

“That much would seem obvious,” he smirks, and walks up to the edge of the lane. He glances back at you one last time, almost as if he’s assessing if you’re really worth the humiliation, before throwing the ball down the lane. It glides towards the pins in a smooth straight line before crashing into their pyramid, knocking over all but one. He stares at the lone pin in shock as you and Karlach whoop at him.

“Hey, you might actually be good at this game after all!” you shout as he walks back to the bench, looking just a little more pleased with himself. He’s about to sit down when you stop him, saying, “No, you get two frames.” He looks back down at the end of the lane just in time to see the mechanical arm sweep away the fallen pins and leave the remaining one standing. He makes a dramatic show of sighing heavily and picks up the ball again. He approaches the lane, calculates the pathing, and throws the ball. It knocks down the last pin.

“Okay Ancunín, comin’ in hot with the spare!” Karlach laughs and he puffs his chest slightly at the compliment. “I think you might need a better nickname than Cardigan.”

“Gods please, I’ll take anything,” he begs, and you stand up to grab a ball.

“Perhaps Dr. Bowling?” Wyll pipes up, and Gale adds, “A doctorate in Bowling Studies with a concentration in spares and strikes?” Astarion’s scowl is icy, but even you can tell he’s having fun.

“I’ve spoken too quickly,” he says, gritting his teeth.

You find that the six of you get along quite well. The conversation is easy and light as you cycle through your turns, laughs flowing between you as freely as the terrible watery beer.  

You take a gulp from your plastic cup, your legs draped over Astarion’s lap as Gale takes his turn. Astarion scoffs at the smell.

“Nine hells, how can you possibly drink that piss?” He turns his face away from the yellowish liquid. 

“I don’t know, I have low standards for myself?” you answer with a shrug. 

Shadowheart lets out a high pitch giggle. “Clearly, considering you’re dating him,” she snickers, and Astarion fixes her with a playfully snide look.

“Big talk coming from someone who needs aloe vera after a romantic evening,” he retorts with pursed lips. Shadowheart tries to suppress a smile – talking shit is her love language.

“At least she and I agree to it prior,” she says coolly, and Astarion goes even paler than usual. He shoots you a nervous glance, a sort of are we allowed to joke about that? But you laugh and take another sip of your beer, surreptitiously rubbing the back of his hand resting on your knee in assurance.

You’re enjoying watching Shadowheart and Karlach navigate the awkward early stages of the relationship. Shadowheart has her hands clasped around her knee, bent in front of her as her foot rests on the plastic bench. Karlach’s arm is draped across the back of the bench, leaving enough plausible deniability as to whether or not her arm is actually around Shadowheart. You suspect by the end of the evening, it’ll be less ambiguous.

“So tell me, Gale,” Wyll asks as Gale waits by the ball return. “I’ve never met a wizard with a PhD, what was your research in?”

“I’m so glad you asked, because I think you in particular would find use of it,” he responds enthusiastically. “It was in ethical uses of high powered spells. There’s a stigma around mortals chasing too much power, but I feel very strongly that some spells simply have no downside.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who’s power hungry, Dekarios,” he says with a smirk, and Gale emphatically shakes his head.

“No, the power isn’t for me, it’s for– well, hold on.” He quickly grabs his ball from the return and throws it down the lane. It hits the gutter within seconds.

“Too bad!” Karlach calls, her arm slipping ever so slightly around Shadowheart’s shoulders a bit more.

“It’s fine. Anyway.” Gale is quick to return to the benches, excited to talk about his research. “I strongly feel that Globe of Invulnerability, Heal, and Heroes’ Feast simply have no downside. We should implement systems in which they can be used for the greater good.” 

“Fascinating. Do doctors not already use Heal in hospitals?” Wyll muses, then turns to Shadowheart as he stands to take his turn. “Shadowheart, you’re a cleric of Selûne, you must use Heal all the time.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “We’re not permitted to use anything more powerful than Mass Cure Wounds, and even then it’s only in the most dire situations, like war zones. I don’t even know how to perform it.”

“See, this is precisely what I’m saying! Imagine all the good that we could do if there were more medical professionals who knew Mass Cure Wounds and Heal.” Gale gesticulates wildly with his almost empty cup of beer. 

“Heroes’ Feast could end world hunger in a matter of minutes!” Wyll nearly shouts from the lane right before he bowls his second frame, almost as excited as Gale.

“Yes!” Gale returns the excitement and then downs the last sip of his beer. “In fact, I think many of these high level spells are outlawed in some countries without even considering how they might impact our society.”

“Hey Ass, you’re up,” Wyll calls, heading back to the bench. 

“Darling, could you move your legs?” he asks you, his tone saccharine. You make a show of deliberating, holding your finger to your chin.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Wyll, who’s winning right now?” you call out to him and he speaks through the fry in his mouth.

“Ashtarion,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I don’t think I will move,” you smirk obstinately, pushing your calves down into his lap. He raises his eyebrows at your challenge, peering at you over his glasses. He grabs your ankles and sharply turns you in your seat, his rough handling sending a subtle jolt through your core.

“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, love,” he hums, his lips barely brushing against yours. He stands and turns towards the lane, leaving you slightly breathless. Karlach and Shadowheart titter at your dazed expression, the distance between them having all but disappeared.

Astarion gets yet another strike, and you briefly wonder how this English academic got so dexterous before remembering the feel of his long smooth fingers working inside you. You blink several times to banish the needlessly dirty thought as he turns around with an insufferably pompous look on his face, his newly discovered talent feeding his already overinflated ego. You try to play it cool as you stand and walk toward the ball return, but he blocks your body with his. You look up at him and he runs his knuckle up the front of your throat, stopping it right under your chin.

“Don’t choke,” he purrs and you press your lips together tightly to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping. You shake your hair over your ears to cover how red they’ve become, but you’re certain your cheeks still give you away. You grab a ball and throw it down the lane, hardly aware of how many pins it knocks down. You stare into the ball return with glazed eyes as you watch your pink ball slide out of its mouth. You grab it, barely registering the shouts of encouragement from the others, and throw it down the lane as quickly as you can. You turn around before seeing the outcome of the frame, your mind occupied by one solitary thought.

“Excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you mumble, wrapping around behind the plastic benches as Karlach stands to take her turn. As discreetly as possible, you run your fingers across Astarion’s shoulders as you pass behind him. If you’re lucky, he’ll get the hint. If not… well, you need to take a breather anyway.

You duck into the hallway branching off the main lanes and settle yourself behind an ancient payphone. You have no idea if it’s meant to be kitschy and retro or simply a relic of a bygone era. You take a deep breath as you try to clear your head.

It didn't take long for Astarion to swing around the corner, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you up against the wood-paneled wall. His lips are hard on yours and his fingers tangle in your hair – a roughness you’re all too happy to accept. You grasp at his lower waist, pulling his body further into yours. Your lips pop open as a small moan escapes when his knee slides up between your legs, pressing against your already aching mound.

“I thought this was meant to dampen our appetites,” he murmurs through breathless kisses. You clutch the back of his head as you grind down wantonly on his thigh.

“It’s not my fault you get fucking hot when you’re competitive, ah–” you swallow the moan as he slides his chilled hands up the back of your shirt, pressing into the dip just above your ass.

“I take it you like seeing me win?” You can feel his lips smiling against your earlobe, and you let out a small squeak when he gives it a gentle nip.

“I like seeing you cocky,” you groan, desperately chasing the friction that his thigh provides. He chuckles and pushes his leg up further into you, causing you to grunt through your teeth and pull on his hair as you try to keep the obscene noises that he’s tearing from you under control.

“Tell me how else you like me,” he rasps, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh. 

“I like it when you’re domineering,” your voice cracks as you continue to roll your hips against him. “I like when you tell me what to do. I like it when you’re just a little mean but even more when you tell me I’m a good girl.”

His hips buck against you and you shift on top of his leg, trying to relieve your own throbbing cunt while rubbing your leg against the bulge in his pants. His lips are still on your ear and he lets out a hissing breath when you lightly brush against his cock.

“You are my good girl, don’t stop.” His breath is cool against your skin and he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, pulling a deep shudder from you. You can already feel how wet he’s made you, and if he keeps this up you might just come undone.

“I want you to put your hand around my throat when you fuck me,” you whine, your slick folds sliding against each other as he grinds his thigh into you. “I want you to put me in a collar and hold the leash tight and tell me I’m yours.” The fantasy is pouring out of you at this point. You’re hardly aware of your surroundings, all that matters is you and Astarion.

You can tell your words are affecting him, too. The rutting of his hips grow frantic and you tighten your hand in his hair and you can feel that familiar spiraling heat blooming out from your core.

“Gods, Astarion, I’m–” you mewl, fully riding his leg at this point. “Please bite me, I want you to bite me, I’m begging–” The moment his fangs sink into your flesh you come, your hand pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound, your hips stuttering with each rippling wave of pleasure. As he takes long dragging sips of your blood he makes barely audible whimpers into your neck, his hips still thrusting into your thigh. You bring your hands to his ear, gently pinching his velvety lobe between your fingers.

“Fuck, come for me Astarion,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s enough. He inhales sharply through his nose, teeth still latched onto your neck, and the rest of him stills, save a few subtle jerks of his hips as he spills inside his pants. You let out a breathy chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair affectionately. He pulls away from your neck and you’re blessed with one of your favorite sights – his lips slightly bloody, his eyes wild and frenzied, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss him, lapping up the metallic droplets from his lips, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“I do so love it when you do that, you know,” he sighs, and you stifle a giggle.

“Make you come in your pants?” you tease.

“No– well, yes, I mean– I mean no!” he stammers, uncharacteristically flustered, and you hum with approval. “No, when you kiss me just after I’ve fed on you. It makes me feel… closer to you, I suppose.”

“Plus I bet it’s, like, really sexy,” you joke, skating over his sincerity, afraid of what you might accidentally say in response. You’re so not ready to write a check that you can’t cash.

“Yes, it is,” he murmurs and kisses you again, unphased by your deflection.

As though an impenetrable barrier had been lifted, someone rounds the corner to head to the bathroom and the two of you straighten up like you didn’t just dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers. You try to tidy your appearances, but there’s no accounting for the noticeable stain on the front of Astarion’s pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up onto his forehead.

“I can’t believe you… ugh. I can’t be seen by the others like this.” He sighs deeply, the consequences of both of your actions finally catching up to him. You bite your lip guiltily, then suddenly gasp, recalling the machine you’ve seen in hundreds of restrooms throughout your life but never had any use for.

“Do you have a quarter?” you ask him frantically, and he stares at you, completely flummoxed.

“No, who carries cash anymore? What, why do–” You’re gone before he can finish his sentence, dashing around the corner to find Shadowheart. Karlach sees you first, and her face lights up as she waves her whole arm at you.

“Hey, we were just about to send out a search party,” she laughs as you round the corner of the benches.

“Itoldthemnotto,” Gale adds quickly, and you appreciate that he learned his lesson from last time. Shadowheart strides up to you and grabs your chin, pulling it to the side to expose your neck.

“Ugh, Tav, you shouldn’t drive when you’re like this,” she groans. “Te absolvo.” She flicks your forehead as she casts the spell and you flinch before a sheepish grin slides onto your face. 

“Hey, where’s Astarion?” Karlach asks, making like she’s going to head towards the bathrooms to look for him. You grab her arm before she can get too far.

“No no, don’t worry about that,” you speak frenetically, “Does anyone have a quarter?”

“Who even carries cash anymore?” Karlach asks with a bemused face, but Shadowheart glowers at you.

“Why, what do you need it for?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, and she rolls her eyes. She grabs her purse and pulls out a sleek black leather wallet embossed with a crescent moon. “I only have ones,” she says, and you yank the bill out of her hand.

“That’s fine thanks love you be right back.” You take off with her dollar and make a beeline for the change machine near the arcade. After several attempts to flatten the bill enough for the machine to accept it, you hear four clangs as the quarters drop into the metal tray. You quickly scoop them out and run back to the hallway outside the bathrooms where poor Astarion is pretending to talk on the payphone.

“Where in the sweet hells did you go?” he hisses, and you finally get a good look at his appearance. His hair is still slightly disheveled, and he’s untucked his shirt to let it hang over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. You don’t answer him, but rather grab his wrist and duck into the women’s restroom that is, thankfully, empty.

You turn to the metal machine hanging off the wall that dispenses three invaluable items for a bowling alley bathroom: tampons, condoms, and scrolls of prestidigitation. You drop a quarter into the slot above the third item, crank the knob, and out falls a tightly rolled scroll.

“They’re usually for mothers to clean up after they’re done changing their baby’s diaper,” you say, nodding your head towards the plastic baby changing station. “But clearly they have other uses. Infame.” You recite the spell’s incantation and the scroll vanishes along with the stain on Astarion’s pants. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Gods.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to tuck his shirt back into his pants. “You owe me,” he adds wryly.

“Um excuse me, who just traipsed all over just to hunt down a goddamn quarter so you could clean up after yourself?” you pout and he slides his hands around your waist.

“But who’s responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he hums in a low voice, brushing his lips against yours. You’re about to melt into his kiss when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a bewildered looking halfling walks in. You and Astarion spring apart and he quickly redoes his belt buckle. You embarrassedly shuffle out the door without a word.

The two of you reemerge to see all of your friends waiting impatiently by the shoe rental. Your and Astarion’s shoes have already been removed from their cubbies and the employee is just waiting for you to return the bowling shoes. The two of you jog over, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes as you approach.

“Fucking degenerates,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing Karlach’s hand and storming out the door.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate smut #fanfiction #smut #professor astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 au #college au #bg3 modern au #astarion x tav #astarion romance #office hours #baldurs gate au #astarion angst #enemies to lovers

[mysaintkitten]

I fully forgot I had this .. so here’s a little something for y’all lol

prompt: Jonathan calls you up after having a few drinks

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of alcohol/intoxication, brief mentions of suicide, subby-ish Jonathan, phone sex, come eating

*not proofread & old as hell*

you’re abruptly awoken by the phone ringing. through squinted eyes, you peak at the clock sitting on top of your nightstand.

1:03 am flashes at you. who’s calling at this hour? you drag your body out of bed and trudge your way over to the living room where your home phone resides. once there, you drop to the couch and grab the phone, putting it up to your ear.

“hello?” you groan, you hear a small snicker on the other end.

“hiii babyyy!” they respond, clearly a little tipsy, you immediately recognize the voice.

it’s jonathan, your close friend, who had recently got placed into a psyche ward after attempting to kill himself. you hadn’t heard from him since he had told you the news. now here he is, ringing your phone at 1 am, while simultaneously dropping a “baby” bomb on you.

“jonathan?” you blurted, feeling yourself become a bit more awake, “what are you doing? why are you up? how do you even have access to a phone right now?”

he sighs into the phone, “me and toby sn- toby’s m’pal .. by the way .. we snuck out ‘n had a few drinks ..” his mumbles, “now ‘m allllll alone ..” he whines, dragging out the all to emphasize his loneliness, “oh ‘n about the phone .. since i’ve been so good they gave me a landline, cordless too, i mean they couldn’t give me a cord ‘cause i might wrap it around my neck, but it’s nifty!”

you roll your eyes. of course he’d do some shit like this. if it was any other friend, you would’ve told them bluntly that you’re not in the mood to talk, but jonathan was an exception right now. he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and his comment about wrapping the cord around his neck grounded you back into reality. you decided to chat with him for a while.

“is that so?” you reply, “how’d the night go?”

“fun!” he bubbled, “oh m’god .. me and toby .. my friend .. we saw this piss drunk guy fall in the street!” he giggles while recounting the incident. you giggle with him, not so much at the story, but at the fact that he felt the need to reiterate that he has a friend named toby.

“that sound very funny, jon, but shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

he whines, “‘m not tired! plus i’ve been thinking about you .. that’s why i called .. wanted to hear your voice ..”

oh?

“why’d you wanna hear my voice? you miss me that much?” you joke, relaxing more into the couch. he hums, “jus’ like how it sounds ..”

“well. you woke me up, and i don’t think i’ll be able to go back to sleep, so you’re welcome to listen to my voice for a while.” you chuckle softly, not thinking too heavily about his intentions. he’s drunk, after all.

“hmm ..” he mumbles in approval, “can you jus’ talk? tell me about your day, love ..”

your brows furrow a bit at the request, but you oblige.

“i didn’t do too much .. just showered .. picked up a bit .. it was nice though.”

he groans quietly at you mentioning showering.

“mmh .. wards got no nice soaps .. i like how your soaps smell. always smellin’ so good ..” he murmurs, through the phone you can hear some minor rustling, but you assume it’s just jonathan drunkenly tossing and turning.

you laugh at his odd compliment, “you think i smell nice?”

“oh, i think a lot of you s’nice, darling.” he assures, his breathing becoming heavier

“what else about me is nice, jonathan?” you ask, thinking he’ll say something corny like your humour or your personality.

“that face f’yours .. gorgeous ..” he giggles and huffs, “‘n that body .. maybe it’s ’cause ‘m all alone .. ‘n a bit tipsy .. but i can’t stop thinkin’ about touchin’ you ..”

oh.

you’re not too sure what to say. you’ve been friends with jonathan for years, you would have never assumed that he wanted you that way. jonathan was very attractive, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him in a sexual way before.

“jonathan ..” you reply calmly, “i think you’re just drunk and confused, how about we talk more tomorrow? you can call me when-“

he whines, “no, baby, ‘m sorry .. i’ve just wanted you .. for so long ..” he hums as his breathing becomes louder, “‘n now .. just your voice got me s’hard ..”

you pause, listening to jonathan, you still hear the shuffling and his breathing. occasionally he whines a few times, is he touching himself?

“jon, are you .. getting off right now?”

he chuckles, “s’hard .. mmh .. thought i might faint.”

you hate to admit it, but hearing jonathan’s neediness got you a little worked up. knowing he was hard just from your voice ignited some interesting feelings from within you.

as your mind is racing, jonathan speaks, “if i w’s there .. would y’touch me?”

your heart begins to pound, his words have become more direct. he’s not just rambling about how he feels, he wants to know how you feel. you slip one of your hands into your panties, feeling how slick you’ve become from jonathan’s words. you might as well get yourself off as well.

instead of answering, you flip the question. “i’m wondering what you’d do if i was there.” you laugh breathily as you gently rub your clit. jonathan whines into the phone, “god, baby, s’filthy. y’don’t even wanna know ..”

“tell me. i want to hear it.” you pry as you become more aroused, hearing jonathan moan weakly at his own thoughts.

“mmh .. wanna eat your cunt .. make y’come at least once on m’face ..” he groans, “wanna fuck you. raw. make y’shake ‘n cry from my cock. wanna make that cunt feel so so good.”

jesus. really didn’t take much convincing for him to spill his thoughts. you bite your lip at his words, hearing his fantasies made you blush embarrassingly hard.

“hm .. yeah?” you moan into the phone, rubbing your clit at a quicker pace

“‘n i wanna eat you again after my cocks been ‘nside you .. lick up our come ..” jonathan gasps, through the phone you can hear him fisting his now slick cock. “then i wanna kiss you when m’done ..” he adds, chuckling a bit.

“god ..” you sigh, “you are filthy.”

you’re finding it difficult to hold back your moans, you almost want jonathan to hear them at this point.

“you .. you got me all wet, jon ..” you admit a bit awkwardly, you’ve never had phone sex before, but you don’t think jonathan will notice.

he whimpers “are y’touching yourself, baby?”

“yeah .. yeah i am ..” you purr, sliding a finger inside yourself and moaning softly as you plunge it in and out.

“jesus, fuck ..” he huffs, “you rubbin’ your clit? or fingering yourself?”

“i’m doing both .. switchin’ every now and then ..” you coo, adding a second finger inside. you hiss slightly at the change, but your cunt quickly adapts and accepts the second finger.

“mmh!” jonathan moans, “s’hot, knowing you’ve got y’fingers all over that pussy .. you sensitive, baby?”

he’s really into calling you baby. although it feels foreign, you’re not opposed to it at all.

“yeah .. a bit ..” you chuckle breathlessly as you remove your slick fingers out and bring them back to your clit.

“oh, fuck ..” he whimpers loudly, “baby, baby, ‘m not gonna last- m’sorry ..”

you could tell from jonathan’s tone and desperate little whimpers that he was close, he didn’t need to tell you, but it’s kind of nice that he at least let you know.

“that’s okay, come jon. show me how good it feels.” you purr. he can’t physically show you, but he can verbalize it, and he does.

“mmf- fuck, baby, ‘m comin’-“ he moans loudly, you’re worried other people in the ward might hear him.

“that’s it, come on yourself jon, good boy.” you encourage, you’re almost surprised that you called him a good boy, you never expected that to slip out.

his moans dwindle into small little whimpers as he rides out the orgasm, huffing quietly once he’s come down.

“‘m all messy, baby ..” he giggles,

“poor thing, you gonna clean yourself up?” you hum to tease.

“mhm .. nice ‘n clean ..” he mumbles as you hear him making small sucking and licking noises,

“jon, are you licking up your come?” you nearly chuckle at him,

“well no one’s ‘ere to do it for me ..” he whines, continuing to lick away his come.

“jesus. dirty, dirty boy.” you scold playfully, toying with your clit again.

“‘m a dirty boy ..” he repeats while yawning, “dirty boy.”

“you tired?” you ask softly,

“mmh, yeah, little bit ..” he mumbles,

“how about you get some sleep and we talk more tomorrow, all right?”

“mmh.. but i wanna talk ..” he groans,

you laugh weakly at his determination, “i’ll be here tomorrow. trust me. get some sleep. we can talk when you’re more awake and sober.”

“fine .. g’night baby. sweet dreams.” he gives in, yawning again

“sleep well, jonathan.” you close before hanging up. as you place the phone down, you’re left with silence and your thoughts. you decide you might as well get yourself off, and you do, you come in your pants to the thought of jonathan’s whimpers and moans. then, you clean yourself off before heading back to bed.

—

Not to jinx myself … but I am currently writing. Send me good energy yall please

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #jonathan breech x reader #jonathan breech #on the edge #hope y’all like this #:)

[solefae]

GURL first off i literally LOVEEEE UUUUUU OMGGGGGGGGG. but love n stuff aside🫶🏾

I JUST RLLY RLLY NEED A BRAT TAMING FANFIC WITH JEYBAE😩 U CAN DO IT HOWEVER U WANT (also could u include some shower sex..) ANYWAYS IM GONNA GO NOW SO PLEASE AND THANK YOU🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾- 🍭

TROUBLE. jey uso

SUMMARY ── You been in a bratty mood all day, testing Jey's patience to its limit. When she takes it too far with her attitude, Jey decides it's time to put her in her place.

AWWW ILYT BABYY 🤍!!!! and u asked and u shall receive… 🤭

"Girl, I swear to God..." Jey muttered under his breath as he watched her flounce about the kitchen, deliberately making as much noise as possible.

She knew he had an important call in five minutes but was doing everything in her power to be as disruptive as possible. Clanging pots, slamming cabinets, singing off-key - the whole works.

Her attitude had been out of control all day, from back-sassing him that morning to rudely blowing off his attempts at conversation. Jey was at the end of his rope with her bratty ass behavior.

When the timer dinged loudly right as his meeting was supposed to start, that was the final straw. In two large strides he crossed over and shut off the oven timer with more force than necessary.

"Alright, enough is enough." Jey turned to pin her with a stern glare. "What the hell has gotten into you today, girl?"

She frowned petulantly, avoiding his eyes. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Bullshit." He grasped her elbow firmly. "You been pissing me off on purpose all damn day with this attitude. I'm not playing your games no more."

Jerking her arm away, she shot back hotly. "I didn't ask you to! God, get off my back already."

A dangerous glint entered Jey's eyes at the blatant disrespect. His voice dropped an octave. "Watch your tone with me, girl."

She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away, obviously not getting the message. Big. Mistake.

In a flash Jey had her pinned against the fridge, hands gripping her hips bruisingly. She gasped but he silenced any retort with a searing kiss, dominating her mouth completely.

When he pulled back she was breathless and wide-eyed, arousal pooling faster than she cared to admit. Jey's hands slid under her ass to hoist her up provocatively.

"You've been asking for this all day, teasing me non-stop." He spoke low and dirty right against her lips.

With that ominous promise hanging between them, he carried her off to the bedroom, intent on taming his wild little brat once and for all.

Stripping her clothes off efficiently, Jey stood back to admire her naked form hungrily. She squirmed under his intense gaze, nipples pebbling in the cool air.

"On the bed, hands and knees. Ass up high." He commanded gruffly, already shedding his own layers. Always so big on following orders, she complied eagerly.

Calloused palms dragged up her thighs to spread her cheeks, boldly delving between folds from behind. She jerked at the unexpected contact, already slick and ready for him.

"My, my, someone's excited." Jey's low chuckle made her tremble. His thick finger circled her clit teasingly before plunging inside, crooking just right to brush that spot.

Her walls squeezed instinctively at the delicious pressure. Soft whimpers escaped with each pump, greedy for more sensation. Two fingers scissored her open deftly, working her up with practiced ease.

"You like that? My fingers feel good inside that tight pussy?" He murmured crudely, loving the way she shuddered at his filthy words.

She couldn't form a reply, brain reduced to mush under his skilled touch. All she knew was the desperate hunger building low in her gut, spiraling ever tighter.

Jey spread her further with his free hand, leaning down to swipe his tongue up the seam of her ass. She keened loudly at the new stimulation, so sensitive already from his fingering.

Heated breaths ghosted over her soaked folds as he spoke. "So wet for me, girl. Bet you'd like my fat cock buried deep too though, wouldn't you?"

"P-please, Jey..." she sobbed, unable to take anymore teasing. She needed him inside, filling her up completely.

He chuckled darkly, hot breath fanning her arousal. "All in good time baby, I'm just gettin' started." With that ominous warning he delved his tongue into her quivering hole, driving her mad.

She was coming undone within seconds, walls clamping down on his fingers hard as waves of bliss crashed over her. But Jey wasn't letting up, relentless in wringing every last drop of ecstasy from her trembling form.

By the time he finally pulled away she could barely hold herself up, limp and sated. Jey shifted back, admiring his handiwork with clear satisfaction.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He cupped her ass possessively, massaging the reddened skin. "Betcha that attitude all gone now too?"

She couldn't form words, only nodding weakly in agreement. His praise and manhandling had transformed her bratty mood completely. All that was left was a hot, submissive mess craving more.

Jey chuckled, running soothing palms up her back. "You ain't done learning yet though, girl. Bathroom, now."

She scrambled unsteadily to obey, brain fogged with endorphins. What fresh torment did he have in store now? Her core clenched deliciously at the thought.

Under the spray of scalding water he crowded her against slick tile, hands roaming everywhere all at once. His arousal jutted proudly between them, making her mouth water to taste.

"Suck." Was all the command Jey gave before guiding himself past her kiss-swollen lips. She moaned around his girth, hollowing her cheeks to take him in deeper.

Water cascaded over them as he began pumping in a steady rhythm, hitting the back of her throat leisurely. One large hand tangled in her hair to hold her still for his relentless pace.

Saliva and precum dripped down her chin to mix with the water washing over their passionate tableau. She swallowed around him eagerly, loving the powerful way he used her mouth for his pleasures.

His thrusts grew erratic, cock throbbing heavy on her tongue. "Fuck, that's it girl. Take it."

With a vicious jerk of his hips he came down her throat, groaning loudly as she sucked him through the aftershocks. Only when he was completely spent did he let her pull off, panting and gazing up adoringly.

Jey hauled her up for a demanding kiss, tasting himself on her lips with obvious satisfaction. "Now it's your turn again, beautiful."

He spun her around, bending her forward over the glass shelving. The cold surface did little to soothe her fiery skin as he spread her wide once more.

This time when he breached her entrance there was no teasing, driving home in one deep thrust. A strangled cry tore from her throat at the delicious fullness.

"You feel so fuckin' good baby, so tight and wet for me." Jey praised gruffly, already setting a brutal pace.

His hips snapped forward powerfully, plunging deeper on each stroke to brush that heavenly spot inside. She was falling apart around him within minutes, walls sucking him in greedily.

Jey groaned loudly, pistoning his hips at a brutal pace through her climax. The sound of skin slapping wetly mingled with their mingled shouts echoing off marble tile.

It wasn’t long before his own release hit, pulsing hot ropes of cum inside her as he growled out curses. They slumped together under the spray, coming down slowly from their high.

Turning within his strong embrace, she kissed along his stubbled jaw sweetly. “Thank you daddy….”

Jey chuckled, nuzzling her fondly. “Anytime, ma. You know I’ll always set your ass straight.” His hands slid down to massage her cheeks tenderly.

taglist aka my loves! ⇩

@blacst4r @truefant4sy

@yeaiamme2 @cody-uso

@riverina69 @christinabae

@shantinextdoor @empressdede

@paigereeder @bebesobrielo

@butterfi1es @jstarr86 @femdisa @shes2real

(lemme know if you want to be added/removed!) 🤍✨

©solefae.

#jey uso #main event jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x reader #joshua fatu #wwe x reader #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagine #jey uso smut

[txtmetonight]

Sick ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ You hate being sick. But at least Jay is there to save the day.

pairing *. * Park Jongsong x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ fluff

warnings *. Extreme fluff lol

call duration⋆ ★ 1.8k

a/n*. * I'm so stupid omg. I accidentally queued this to this morning before I even finished it and it was published omgomgomg. if you saw this earlier no you didn't. remember to like and reblog!!

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

You’re sick. And you hate it.  

Your nose is sniffly and red, and you’re in dying need of something to cool you down before you pass out. And your teacher’s constant talking isn’t really helping your ever-growing headache that was starting to sprout. You suppose that it was caused by playing out in the rain yesterday—even after Jay told you not to because you would be sick—but you would hate to admit that because then that would prove that your best friend was right. 

Jay was somehow always eerily right though. Like when he said that you liked him as a joke while playing a truth or dare game—he thought that he was fibbing in purely comedic fashion, but your wide eyes and everyone else’s shocked faces said something else. 

Blowing a stand of hair from your face, your cheeks feel hot when you place them down onto your arms, slightly groaning as the feverish feeling sends chills down your spine. Your notes were starting to become rather illegible as you tried to write down whatever was on the board, but you eventually gave up. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Chaewon pokes your side with her pencil, receiving no response from your end. “(Y/n)? Helloooo?” You don’t even murmur, instead opting to ignore her. You felt like you were on fire. 

“Oh, hey Jay!” Chaewon exclaims excitedly, making you shoot your head and knock down your water bottle to greet the boy, only to find him not there and half the class staring at you for the ruckus you created. The teacher in his pointed glasses glares at you too, and you gulp down in your seat to avoid his killer eyes while pinching your friend in the thigh angrily. She swats at your hand without making much movement. The older man just sighs and returns to his lesson, prompting you to turn to the girl and scold her quietly. 

"Chae, what the hell?!” 

She shrugs her shoulders and just giggles. “You weren’t answering me.” You roll your eyes and sigh as another wave of sickness jerks your body—you're starting to feel as though the room is starting to spin. Chaewon furrows her brows at your behavior before she places the back of her hand on your neck, wincing when her touch feels too hot to be normal. “You’re burning up. (Y/n) You should go to the nurse.” 

You nod sadly at her and slowly gather your supplies. “I guess so.” 

When you finally scooch out of your chair and very timidly ask the teacher to go to the nurse (which he then sends you a very nasty look once more), you carefully lug your bookbag with you in a very depressing manner, as if your back were severally hunched over and your feet were dragged on the floor. Still, you were determined to go home and take a much-needed rest, but with the halls moving side to side, you’re not really sure if you could take another step without crumpling down in a heaped mess. 

And thankfully, someone must have heard your prayers because suddenly a rather warm hand wraps itself around your waist and holds you upright. The hold is familiar, and even in your dazed state, you find yourself recognizing the tight grip on you, stumbling back from the rush of butterflies in your stomach. 

“Let’s get you to the nurse without fainting.” 

You let him drag you to the nurse without many complaints, sinking very well into his tender comfort as you sway back and forth. You slightly giggle when he grumbles underneath his breath, reprimanding you from last night. “You never listen to me,” he sighs. “And now I have to go take care of you.” 

“Who said that you had to take care of me? I can take care of myself just fine.” You whine. He laughs quite mockingly at you before he loosens his grip just a little. “Right, so if I let you go completely, you would be able to walk fine?” 

You shake your head furiously and pinch his biceps. You’re sure you could, but it wouldn’t do much harm if you stayed a tad bit closer to him just for a while, no? 

“You’re such a baby,” he chimes, but he leaves you be until you both get to the waiting room. The nurse is in her appointed chair, and then she looks up at you two when the bell above gently dings, letting her know of her new patients. 

“Yes, how may I help you two?” Jay doesn’t even let you open your mouth to let you speak. "She's sick.” The lady, well over her middle age, saunters over and pats at the firm mattress as she drags over her thermometer. Your best friend very carefully lets you sit on the green bed, and your cheeks seem to flush a little more when you realize that his fingers on your waist haven’t left you yet. 

“Open your mouth—oh, the phone.” 

The phone rings just in time, and you curiously watch as the nurse apologizes with her face and picks up the loud tone, holding the device to her ear. Seconds go by, and her face seems to contort into worry in the middle of her blabbering towards what you suppose is another teacher before she cuts the call rather harshly and stands up to her full height, grabbing a first aid kit that was just below her desk. 

She then faces you and Jay. “I am so extremely sorry. Gosh, another student had just busted his head open!” Your eyes grow wide at her ramble, exchanging glances with the boy next to you. “If you’re truly sick, because you do look paler than normal, I figure that you could go home. Just check her temperature, I suppose. Do you have anyone to pick you up?” 

Your parents had (un)fortunately left you home alone for the week for an important business trip to come. And so, you shake your head. “No–” 

“It’s fine, I can take her home. It’s almost the end of the school day.” 

Turning towards him in his arms, you question him, but he just smiles smugly at you and shrugs his shoulders. The nurse, who seemed in a very quick hurry, doesn’t say anything but instead writes you two an excused note before she’s on her way, closing the door shut in her wake, and a silence consumes the room as you stare at her tray of peppermints. You thought Jay was too, yet when you turn to look at him, his gaze lies on you. Your stomach flips. 

“Well, aren’t you supposed to check my temperature or something?” You ask, fiddling with the string of your cardigan. “Oh right…” He very quickly (in a red face that you don’t notice) brings up his hand to your forehead but halts it just before he touches you. 

"Wait, hold on, I saw another way that should be more accurate.” 

His fingers move to your chin, which he very gently squeezes, and then he places his other hand on top of yours for stability, which he finally (before you can even chide him about his weird credibility) lets his forehead land on against yours, crushing your wrist when you both stare at each other. 

You’re going to pass out. 

He’s close—like super close—as he nudges your head a little bit more, and you feel like your heart is thrumming loudly against your chest, your face is heating up even more, and you assume that you look like you’ve fallen into a clutter of bashfulness.

Jay’s cologne invades your senses while your nails seem to dig into your back more, but not once does he flinch, choosing to let his eyes flicker down to your lips just before he smiles softly. 

“You definitely have a fever.” He then pulls himself off you as if whatever stunt he just pulled was just completely normal. You’re not sure if you’re going crazy, but your gut seems to be riding its own roller-coaster—words that you’ve meant to confess on the tip of your tongue while you stare at him weakly. 

Jay’s going to be the death of you. 

"What the–where did you–huh?” 

“I told you; I saw it online. And you’re for sure running a fever. Let’s go.” He tucks his hands under your arms and makes it his priority once more to safely guide you back home, only this time his words consisted of promising you to make his infamous chicken noodle soup. 

By the time that you both made it back to your house, there was sweat running down your back, and as you panted in exhaustion from either fighting off the fever or walking, your eyelids drooped heavier and heavier with each passing second. 

“Jayyyy” You whine, sighing, when you hand him the keys. He unlocks the door with his one free hand and quickly makes a beeline to your room, muttering apologies for trespassing just before he enters.

He’s fast when he’s determined and always has been; his eyebrows furrowed, his lips casted into a slight frown—he’s utterly too handsome for you. In a daze, you watch him bring over a cold washcloth to put on your head, and for some reason, your heart seems full of him—and you realize that it’s always been filled to the brim for him to take. You’re in love. And ill. 

“How’d you know to find me in the hallway earlier?” You ask, your eyes closing when his warm hands lightly pats your cheeks. You can practically see him smiling even with your eyes shut while he proceeds to run his knuckles up and down your collarbone. “I dunno. I think it was my (Y/N) senses.” 

You weakly grin at him as you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into a sense of comfort—into the awaiting arms of sleep. Jays knows too, and he places a chaste kiss on your ring finger. “Go to sleep, pretty; I’ll be here when you wake up.” You nod into his touch and a sudden urge of words spill from your mouth.

“Jay I really like you...” 

The boy stiffens, his pupils fluttering between your eyes and lips to the point where they break into another round of silly giggling. You’re cute, you really are, and so he can’t help but linger close to where he wants to kiss you. 

"Hmmm, I think I need to check your temperature again. I have another way, though. Will you let me try it?” 

You snort, “Did you find it online again?” 

“Maybe…” He softly settles his lips against yours, not caring once that you were sick. It’s light and mellow, and you feel an air of love and adoration when he pulls back, hovering just above you. “Am I still sick?” 

He tilts his head. “I can’t tell for sure. I’ll check again when you wake up.”

#enhypen x reader #jay x reader #k-labels #jay enhypen #jay x you #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha #enha jay #jay fluff #jay park #park jongsung #jay scenarios #jay imagines #jay #enhypen x you #enhypen #park jongseong #kpop x reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop

[belladonnadawn]

But Daddy I Love Him

“Say they want what’s best for me. Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see. Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me.”

A day off with Andrew made you think about your domestic life and life before it. CW: mentions of sex 

It's been years after the incident, yet your heart still aches whenever your mind drifts towards it. To say that it was hell was an understatement; you've been isolated, called every name under the sun, and met with condescension from the people who ‘want to save you’. The crowd was torn between dragging you to the mud and lifting you up in their arms. It was a painful, overwhelming, and disturbing experience. But all their noises fall deaf on your ears once you're with him.

Between bated breaths and heated touches, a scandalous tryst– not unheard of; you both found something deeper, something beyond lust and desire. Your nights of passion muted any screams from the world, drowning you in him and him only. In his bed– and yours, you were two lovers lost in paradise. 

All the men you've been with pales in comparison to him. Andrew was sweet, caring, passionate, and teasing. A true gentleman. It was painfully cliché, but it's true– no one knows him like you do. And if others did, they'd understand why you loved him like you did. 

Dusk crept in, it was peaceful as both of you had your day offs. You sat on his lap, mindlessly playing with his hair as he read his book. He looks good focused, handsome as ever. Smile crept into your face as butterflies went wild in your stomach. 

“Darling?” Andrew's soft voice dragged you back to reality. You hummed in response, wearing that same love struck smile. “What do you want for dinner?” His hands gently caressed your back in a gentle manner. Even after being with him for years, you were still electrified by his touches.

“I found this new recipe on the internet. Do you wanna try?” You suggested.

“Of course, darling.” He leaned closer, sealing it with a kiss. It was as sweet and loving as always, you had to fight the urge to pull him closer, wrap your arms around him for a full on make out session. “Do you want me to cook it for you?”

“No, I want us to cook together. I want to spend as much time with you while we have our day off.” 

He chuckles, closing the book and placing it on the table. “You’re quite needy today.”

“Is it bad that I want to spend time with my boyfriend?” The title rolls off your tongue smoothly, it feels nice knowing he’s the one holding it. 

“I understand, our time together these past few days was scarce. I missed being with you too.” Andrew pulled you closer, trailing small kisses on your jaw and neck. He pulled away with a grin, “We shall prepare then so we can go to bed early.”

You were disappointed as you both pulled away as you both walked towards the kitchen, wanting more of his physical affection; but you understand that that can wait. 

The apartment was small and cozy, enough for the two of you. Life with him so far was domestic and comfortable. You remembered your parents’ faces when they knew about your relations with him. And once you announced that you’re ready to move out, they immediately protested; screaming how he might be manipulative, dangerous, and what you and Andrew had was nothing but fleeting desire.

But you were firm, almost petulant, laying all the proofs that you had. It felt like a court case, justifying everything that you could to assure them. At last, they finally conceded after you told them that once there’s a problem you’ll immediately move out. They were still suspicious, you can’t blame them, but over time you could see how they were starting to accept him as a significant part of your life– your significant other.

“What’s on your mind, darling?” Andrew wrapped his arms around your waist. “Mind sharing it with me?” 

You gave him a small smile, knowing that you can’t lie to him due to how observant he is. “It’s just things… about us.”

His brow furrowed as his face became filled with concern, “What about us?” He asked gently, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Like what happened…” 

He nodded, but you could see a glimpse of sadness in his face. “I understand, sometimes our mind wanders in places we never expect to be in. But that’s all we do, we wander not stay” 

“I know, Andrew, I just think that it still feels surreal. Living this life with you domestically was something that I never thought we could achieve, back then I thought we’ll be apart after they almost tore us to shreds. I’m happy we’re not.” You gave him a soft smile, giving his lips a small peck.. 

As you pulled away, you looked at him, blush evident on his cheeks, “I am happy too, darling.” He responded softly. You could see his eyes glance at your lips, blood rushed to your cheek as you closed your eyes and leaned closer. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt your lips touched. It was magical and passionate as you expected. His arms around you tightened, you ran his fingers through his hair. Andrew leaned closer, deepening the kiss causing you to let out a sound of satisfaction. You were both insatiable, drunk on each other.

You both catch your breath as you pull away from each other. His hands on your cheek, the other on your thigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, darling.” Andrew’s eyes half lidded, filled with desire and love as he looked at you.

For a moment you were just two lovers in the kitchen, doting on each other endlessly. The past was far enough to reach you as you both ran away to your own world– the one you never wanted to escape from. 

Pattern banner from Cafekitsune

#zsakuva #sakuverse #andrew marston #but daddy i love him

[sk3tch404]

Late Night Hanma Blurb

A/n: Thought abt this during an itty-bitty road trip today. Smoker Hanma does smth to the chemicals in my brain. Forgive me for any lengthy bad writing. I've had a long day and I just wanna yip yap about one of my fav crazies 🙇

CW: Hanma can give two shits about your lung health but chooses not to when he feels like it, intimidation, threats of forced drug usage, sometimes forced participation in violent activities, thoughts of lovers suicide/murder(?), and whatever other yappin I put in here.

Hanma who smokes a fuck ton and doesn't mind giving you the good ol' second-hand effects of it, but absolutely detests you doing it on your own.

He snatches the stick from your mouth and holds it up and away from you with a small grit in his teeth. Hanma glares down in some curiosity but clearly squints in irritation.

"The hell is this? Don't tell me I'm being a bad influence on you now. If I catch you with one of these again, I won't let you off the hook so easily. You got it, Y/n?"

When you retort, telling him it's no different from when he does it and it is your own choice whether he likes it or not, he merely scoffs with a tilt of his narrow head. Throwing down the cigarette, the sound of his sneaker stomping and scraping it out against the pavement echos through the air with an annoying presence. Shuji demands the rest of your stash with a looming stare that can only put you into a state of sinking discimfort.

"Come on, don't be stubborn. Ya know, if you wanna do it so bad, why don't you try the whole pack? Mine too since it's a shitload better than that cheap stuff."

Reluctant on suffocation and early lung cancer, you begrudgingly hand over your smokes to him. Hanma smacks down on the box with an evidently loud shot of noise and slides it out of your palm. He pockets it with a stretched smile as he leans down towards you.

"See, now it ain't so hard to listen."

He's still ticked off by the fact you think you can do whatever to your body without his permission, but since Shuji is so generous, he'll let you learn from your mistakes. See, he can be nice.

Don't test him though. Next time you're caught defying his selfish wishes, he's beating you down with degrading language and probably also beating whoever was involved. The convenience store employee that sold you the cigs, vape, or maybe even chewing tobacco? Yeah he's taking out his held back frustration on them. Bro is jumping over the counter and tearing their shit up.

Avoiding him because of his brutal and honest-to-God psychopathic personality? Now that's just cruel. Shuji is dragging your ass by the back of your shirt and pushes you to his motorcycle. The leopard print on the back of the bike makes you wanna barf every time you see it, but you got to keep it down if you wanna have enough energy to deal with him. He'll take you out no matter where you are at in that point of time and make you remember who he is; who you think you're messing with.

"Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you? Aim for the nose. That's easy for amateurs like you. Actually, lemme show you how to really deliver a jaw breaker-"

Yeah, he'll show you just how bad it can get with some random thugs on the street. You should be grateful with how gentle he's treating you. Instead of ending up with facial fractures, you have nice dates and thoughtful gifts. He's even teaching you a few tricks. How lucky can you get?

"I'm all done. Shit, I'm starved. Let's go grab a bite to eat, kay?"

Hanma thinks the only way you'll ever keep paying attention to him is if he keeps you and your actions in line. If you go off doing your own thing, his usually unmoving heart can't just stand there and watch you slowly leave him. Despite the negativity be brings into your life, he actually gets really fuckin anxious when he doesn't know or understand what you're doing. It's so troublesome how you make him feel. Yeah, being bored as shit is bad, but seeing you, the only thing that could ever bring him down to his knees unwillingly, slip away with nothing but disdain for him? Fuck no. He won't accept it. Shuji would rather kill you and then himself than have to bear the strange feeling of pain, or what other people call heartbreak, by his lonesome self.

Should he ever say he loves you, that would be the point of no return for the both of you. His hands have you tight in his clutches. No way out, no way back in for anyone else.

#yandere #x reader #yandere blog #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tr #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tr #hanma #hanma shuji #yandere hanma shuji #hanma x reader #yandere hanma x reader #tbh i kin him but like in some aspects #so naybe thats likeeee why hes emo at the end #BUT EYYYY DID I COOK OR DID I BLOW TS UP?? #😔😔 #well i think it came out better than I expected #been in a writing mood for a while #ig all the reading got me doin flips n shit now #gave me confidence n direction too if #ig** #ehehe #dont lemme wake up n lemme see some ass writing #im actually gonna pray dude #🙏🙏🙏

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel by the Wing - Thirty-Two

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

Chapter Warnings: Jake Seresin is a moody little bitch but nothing new

“Honeys, I’m home!” Bradley called as he opened the front door to the townhome. He dragged his suitcase in behind him and looked around for either one of his partners, but instead was met with a hissing cat.

“Uh…what is that?” he asked. You scrambled out from the bedroom and lit up at the sight of him. Bending down, you scooped up the little cat who instantly stopped hissing and instead cuddled close and purred.

“Hi, sorry. Skipper is a little territorial, we’ve learned.”

“Skipper,” he repeated. Jake came back in from where he was working in the backyard and grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before crossing the room in short strides, laying his hands on Bradley’s waist, and kissing him soundly.

“Yeah, Skipper. He’s our new cat. Because your girl is manipulative as hell and I’m a sucker.”

“If you didn’t want the cat, you shouldn’t cave to blowjobs so easily,” you retorted. You let Skipper down onto the ground and the cat wound around your feet before going to inspect Bradley’s suitcase. He bent down and extended his hand to the small tabby who sniffed him and then rubbed his furry little head against Bradley’s palm.

“Good. He likes you,” you exclaimed. You stepped over Skipper and reached up to cradle Bradley’s face. He dropped his duffle bag and enveloped your hips with his large hands. You breathed him in as you pressed your lips against his and Bradley hummed low in his throat, pulling you closer until the small swell of your stomach pressed flush against him.

“I left for a week,” he murmured when he pulled away. “How did she grow so much?”

“Her papa has been feeding her pretty well,” you said, glancing towards Jake with a fond smile. Jake leaned against the wall, a small smile on his face as he took in the sight before him. You gestured with your head for him to come closer and he pushed away from the wall and joined you two, trapping you in a government property sandwich.

“Missed you both,” Bradley murmured against Jake’s shoulder. The blond finally relaxed, his shoulders curving into the weight of his lovers. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Other than the fact that I was coerced into getting a cat?” Jake teased. “No, nothing much.”

You remained silent but you nudged your nose against Jake’s jaw and kissed the corner of Bradley’s lips before wiggling out from between them. “Do we need to unpack anything?”

The two men shared a quick glance, both picking up on the sudden mood change. Jake shook his head to explain that he knew nothing and Bradley frowned and quickly followed after you as you headed towards the bedroom.

“We made some more space in here and then we’ve been thinking about selling the bed in the guestroom to make it into a nursery,” you explained.

Bradley nodded along and then cleared his throat, glancing back at Jake as he slid his hands around your waist and pulled you back into his chest. “We can talk about all that later, sweetheart. I’ve been gone a week and if I don’t kiss you two right now, I think I might just wither away.”

You snorted but allowed him to drag you towards the bedroom. “Alright, alright. C’mon, Tex. Time to show him your new trick.” Poor Skipper found himself locked outside of the bedroom.

When the three of you finally collapsed in a pile of sweaty limbs and heaving chests, Bradley traced lines along Jake’s pecs, his fingers brushing against the hickeys you left behind.

“Pretty sure this is defacing government property,” he teased. You huffed out a laugh and rolled onto your back, revealing the small bump that was starting to show. Both men were drawn to it like a beacon, their hands coming down to cover your skin as though they were guarding you from the world.

“Have you ever considered moving?” Bradley asked quietly. “Get a house maybe down by Penny? Something with more space?”

Jake abruptly pulled away from the two of you and stood up from the bed. He tossed on the basketball shorts he had been wearing. “I’ll go grab some water for us.” You felt the loss of his warmth acutely and rolled onto your side so you were closer to Bradley. He tucked you in against his side and whispered something in your ear.

Jake appeared in the bedroom doorway with two glasses of water in hand and took in the sight before him. Was this what his mom meant? Was he always meant to be the one on the outside?

Jake Seresin was a good lay, but he would never make a good boyfriend and certainly not a good father.

Tag List:

@mizzzpink @xoxabs88xox @dreaminglandsworld @khaylin27 @loveforaugust @atarmychick007 @itsmytimetoodream @krismdavis @emma8895eb @startrekfangirl @hangmandruigandmavav @lunamoonbbyy @sihtricswife @jstarr86 @drakelover78 @abaker74 @emma8895eb @hardballoonlove @nerdgirljen

#abtw #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #rooster x reader #hangman x reader

[quillsandblades]

A Levihan fic based on the post by @devoteurheartlh

(I think I took the hand-holding too far)

With Us, it's Simple

‘C’mon Levi!’ Hange’s excited shout rises above the hubbub of the crowd, and he rolls his eyes. When will shitty glasses learn to behave in public? She sprints in the room as if she’s in a fucking amusement park and not her boss’s party. But maybe he can let it slide just this time as her boss also happens to be their best friend, Erwin. In an interesting turn of events, she ended up working for him almost two years ago and bringing the three of them together for the first time since their graduation. Levi was glad it worked out like that, he’d missed Erwin. 

Four-eyes shouts something about wanting to introduce him to all her colleagues and he internally groans. Why did he even agree to come with her in the first place? 

Without giving him a chance to backtrack, she seizes his hand and pushes him into the chatting crowd. He feels her hand wrap around the base of his palm, her fingers brace over his wrist, in a way he’s learnt that she’s feeling excited because her grip is tight but not too tight, like she’s carelessly letting her excitement seep into her actions. She drags him, he follows helplessly. Just like he has for almost ten years now. 

She stops in front of a sleepy looking dark-haired woman and introduces her as, ‘This is Pieck! We’re best buddies, Levi!’

He smacks her head, ‘Oi! Aren’t we best buddies?’

She laughs and leans into his shoulder, ‘Oh Levi, you’re jealous?’

‘Shut up. Why the hell would I be jealous?’ And he turns to walk away but she’s still holding his hand and yanks him back just as quickly. 

‘Don’t worry shorty,’ she winks at him. ‘No one’s taking your place. It’s special.’ 

And he feels irrationally warm at those words. But he doesn’t let himself mull over it; it’s simply one of the things Hange does and he’s come to accept the fact over the years that his body has a weird way to respond to her little statements and gestures. 

Pieck gives them a charming smile and her eyes flit to their connected hands, ‘So you’re Hange’s boyfriend?’ 

She drops his hand and barks out a laugh, ‘What even made you think that? We’re just friends, silly.’  

‘Really?’ Pieck arches a brow.

‘Yeah,’ Levi confirms. ‘For ten years now.’ 

The woman hums in a way that screams she would beg to differ, but if Hange notices she doesn’t dwell on it and Levi follows suit. Both women continue to talk and Levi throws in his own comments when Pieck mentions how challenging it is to work alongside Hange Zoe. She knows nothing. He’s been going through her shit for far longer, at this point he can actually consider himself an expert in Hange’s behavior and mood. And that’s saying something because according to everyone, she’s too damn unpredictable to be figured out, and whenever he hears that Levi allows himself a tiny whisper of a smile as he has her almost completely figured out. Almost completely meaning ninety eight percent. He’s still working on that two percent.

Soon Hange’s dragging him away once more, but her fingers now curl hesitantly around his in a manner that says she’s stuck over something in her mind. He jerks her back, ‘What?’ he asks. 

She gets him without needing much words, shrugs off the thoughtful look from her face and straightens her shoulders. ‘Nothing.’ 

She turns around and leads him to more people. 

The night progresses in more or less the same way, laughter tinkles and glasses of champagne clink, soft lighting of the room morphs around them.  Almost every person they come across mistakes them for a couple. They brush it off, they’re used to it. 

Erwin meets up with them soon. 

‘So, how’s the host doing?’ Hange asks, jabbing an elbow into his crisp suit. 

He chuckles and hands over some drinks to them from a waiter passing by. They sit and talk, about everything and anything and stuff friends talk about. 

‘I see you two haven’t broken the tradition,’ Erwin comments after a bit. 

‘Huh?’ Hange throws him a questioning look. 

‘Still going to gatherings as “platonic dates”?’ he makes air quotes at that, an expression that seems too uncharacteristic of him. To the outside eye at least, they both have known Erwin long enough to guarantee that the man has some unexpected sides. ‘When am I gonna see a real couple here?’

‘Oh come on, Erwin!’ Hange snickers. ‘Not you too. You should know, of all people, that we’re just really close friends. I mean, I’m the same with you and Mike.’ 

‘I don’t see you asking me out for parties. But you’ve been doing that with Levi since we were in high school.’  

‘Exactly,’ she points out. ‘He’s used to it. Besides,’ she nudges him playfully, ‘he’s more fun.’

Levi rolls his eyes. Erwin gives him a long, calculating look and he responds with his trademark bored stare. Sure his words made sense but Hange was right, there wasn’t anything like that between them. 

(He chooses to conveniently ignore all the instances when he felt his heart hammer in an odd way, or color rise to his cheeks, or had this weird, warm and giddy feeling in the presence of four-eyes that said he would be happy to stay with her, in whatever place they were together, forever)

‘You know I believe when we’re in love with someone, we try to read into all the miniscule actions, expressions and words of that person,’ Erwin sips his drink. ‘We learn them by heart, like a language. To the point we even know what a certain flick of their brow means.’ 

Levi is silent. Staring into the swirling gold in his glass. 

‘Are you implying something?’ He speaks up without looking at him. 

‘I think I’m in love,’ he replies softly. ‘You remember Marie? I met her again.’ 

Hange’s eyes widen, ‘Oooh, really?’ 

She sits by the edge of her seat, bouncing lightly, all excitement. Marie was another friend from High School. Erwin falling in love is new, so Levi pushes aside any doubtful thoughts to focus on their words. 

‘It turned out we live across from one another,’ Erwin is saying. ‘And she was just too eager to catch up when we met.’ 

Hange’s marveling at the way life throws people back at each other and giggling while thinking about how she can make Marie fall for Erwin. He laughs at her ridiculous plans and Levi feels a tug at his own lips as she chortles. 

While she continues to ramble, Erwin shoots him another look. One that says his previous words were certainly meant for him. Levi just looks away and drowns his glass of champagne. 

Erwin excuses himself after a while as he spots some people. Hange jumps up immediately, ‘Let’s dance.’ 

‘Hell no.’

‘Don’t be a grump Levi,’ she sings out and clamps her hand around his, insistent. She tugs, he resists. She tugs again and soon he’s out of his seat and they’re moving between bodies and Hange’s laughter is loud in his ears and her cheeks are red, a red that he wants to lean forward and brush his thumb over. She’s moving with the beats and urging him to do the same. He halfheartedly mirrors her and she snorts. 

Then the music shifts, gentle melodies twist through the air. 

And Hange pulls him close with the lull of the song. Her smile is radiant. Her forehead leans against his and she grabs both of his hands. Their eyes fall shut. Her thumbs rest softly around his own, the rest of her fingers encircle his knuckles in a gentle, unperturbed hold. 

She’s happy, he concludes. 

He knows it from the way her fingers press into his skin and wrap around his hand. He’s come to learn it all with time. 

She hums along as they sway, lost in the rhythm of their hearts. He feels her getting closer and snaking an arm around his waist. He pulls back his face and looks at her. 

Levi is pretty sure he doesn’t need glasses. Last he checked, his eye site was perfectly fine. So he doesn’t really understand why the lights, the colors and people seem to have blurred out around him and the only thing he can focus on is Hange’s face which holds an odd expression. 

She’s not quite smiling, not frowning either. It’s like her eyes are hanging between confusion and revelation. He can see the rapid color gathering in her cheeks. Her lips part to shape words she has yet to say, and Levi feels a knot of anticipation wind in his gut. Thoughts hang at the tip of her tongue but she hesitates ever-so-slightly. Then she says, 

‘Do you know Axolotls can regrow their limbs.’  

Levi blinks. 

He knows that’s the last thing she was gonna say. She’s no longer gazing at him, instead she guides them around other couples dancing. 

‘So can starfish,’ Levi grunts at her. 

She chuckles, ‘Yeah, but Axolotls are cuter. I wanna study their regeneration process once I’m done with my current project.’ 

Levi hums. There’s still something hanging between them, almost tangible. 

‘You know there are possibilities to enhance human tissue healing or regeneration through such studies. There’s a lot to discover in this direction.’

‘I’m sure you’ll end up finding some weird shit or other.’ 

‘D’you think Erwin will allow me to bring in live specimens to the lab?’ 

He shrugs, ‘Only if he thinks it’s worth it.’ 

He cuts off her next words by suddenly twirling her around, and maybe she’s had a lot to drink so she loses her footing and stumbles backward without warning, brown eyes wide. 

Instinctively, he leans to steady her, arm around her back. Their torsos crash against each other and he finds his face inches away from hers. She looks startled, mouth half open and glasses sitting low on her nose. Her face gets a deeper shade of red, or maybe it’s just the light playing upon her cheeks. He can feel the thrum of her heart in his chest. 

‘Hange . . .’ he murmurs, not sure what he longs to say. 

Her eyes glide over his features. She opens her mouth, ‘I . . . I—uh—’

She slips out of his grasp and crashes to the floor as someone bumps into them. 

‘Oi!’

‘Sorry!’ the man calls out over his shoulder. 

But Hange’s already standing up, dusting herself and moving in the other direction, ‘Sorry I—I think I need a glass of water,’ she mumbles hastily, and all but runs away from him. He sighs and makes his way to a quieter corner. 

‘Hello there, young man,’ a voice beside him makes him turn. An elegantly dressed, elderly lady is sitting on a sofa— probably someone’s mother. She smiles at him, ‘Hope you don’t mind asking me, but how long have you been married?’ 

‘Married?’

She nods, ‘Ah you see, I was just a tad bit awed at seeing how true love can be found even today. You were dancing with your wife just now, right? You both seem very fond of each other.’ 

He finds it hard to say it around the gentle look she gives him, but he pushes the words out anyhow, ‘We’re not married.’ 

‘Oh,’ her face falls. Then she smiles again. ‘But still very much in love, yes? I can see that at least, and I tell you my eyes never lied in the matter of hearts.’ 

Levi swallows, not knowing what to make of this. But that’s when he spots Hange in the distance. A tall blonde man is talking to her, but even from far away Levi can see how her posture is tense. He excuses himself and rushes to her side. 

‘. . . was thinking it would be a delight,’ the blonde was saying. He wore round glasses and his beard took almost half of his face. 

Hange replied something distractedly. 

‘Oi, where were you?’ he comes to stand beside her and lightly smacks her shoulder. 

‘Levi,’ she breathes it out almost like an exhale of relief. Then points at the Beard, ‘This is Zeke, we work in the same department. Zeke, meet Levi.’ 

Zeke offers him a neutral smile, eyes piercing into him. He nods in return. 

‘I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, Hange,’ the blonde turns his attention towards her. ‘I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.’ 

Hange laughs out a fake sound, ‘I would never miss Erwin’s party.’ 

‘Of course,’ he smiles widely and his gaze travels over her from head to toe. Her hand creeps out to Levi, fingers lacing through his, pressing the tips hard into his flesh. 

She’s anxious. 

‘You look gorgeous tonight,’ The Beard murmurs. ‘Would you spare a dance for me?’ 

‘Um actually I—’ the pressure on his hand increases, a silent plea. 

‘We’re sorry,’ Levi cuts in, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But Hange needed some air after all the dancing. We’re just heading out.’ 

Zeke considers them for a moment, noticing their hands

‘So you’re dating?’ he asks. 

Before Hange can speak, Levi answers, ‘Yeah.’ His tone is rough, as if challenging him. 

When no one says a word, Levi pulls her towards the entrance and they step out into the cool night air. The noises from the inside grow muffled as they both settle on a wooden bench. There’s a wide garden spread in front of them, coloured dark in the shades of the twinkling night. Above them the stars gleam in the sleeping sky. 

Hange leans against his shoulder, ‘Thanks.’ 

‘That asshole works with you?’

‘Yeah, but he’ll be changing departments soon. He’s been trying to ask me out for so long, but honestly speaking, I don’t like his intentions. Plus, he holds some perpetual grudge against Erwin,’ she speaks quietly. 

‘You rejected him then?’

‘Yeah. but I guess he just doesn’t understand the meaning of no.’ 

They fall into silence. A breeze lifts his hair and Hange’s fringe tickles his neck. 

‘Everyone thought we were a couple today,’ She whispers. 

‘Not for the first time.’ 

‘It makes me think, Levi. Why don’t people say the same about me and Erwin or Mike, or you and Petra or Nanaba. We’re all close friends aren’t we?’ 

She faces him, still resting against his side. They’re in close proximity once more, closer than friends should be, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of them. His heart feels simultaneously restless and content—a phenomenon he associates with the presence of Hange Zoe alone. 

‘So you think we’re something more than friends?’ he asks.

‘Everyone says so.’ 

‘Everyone’s opinion doesn’t define what we really are.’

‘No,’ she agrees. ‘It doesn’t.’ 

Then she fully turns to him and he reads in her eyes, a question. He gives the affirmative—and really that’s just how simple it is for them, how simple they are. Clicking wordlessly into place like pieces of a puzzle.  

She tilts forward and their mouths connect in a perfect symphony as their eyes flutter close. He feels her press her lips softly to his own but with a certain pressure, takes a moment to note their chapped surface from the parts where she’s always pulling at them and the lines that map out their contours. She’s kissing him lightly, her movements unsure, almost shy. He can feel her joyful giddiness though, and the telltale lift of her lips curling into the smallest, most softest smile and he—

He just thinks he’ll let it happen for a while. He’ll get plenty of more chances to read into the press of her lips on his and translate what each kiss represents. Learn how she’ll kiss him when she’s sad, or when she’s happy or angry or any other thing. 

For now, he’s at peace with knowing that she loves him. 

She tells him that herself: in the way she holds him close, in the way she laughs against his mouth, and how she touches him. 

And he knows because he has her figured out already. 

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #my writing #levihan fanfiction #ao3 #attack on titan #inspiration is tempting

[starfxkr]

a week in the girls outfits: kitten

inspired by @princessbrunette i don't wanna clog her notifs so ima only tag her in this one but know that all subsequent posts in this series are insp by her!

｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖｡˚🐈‍⬛.𖥔 ݁ ˖

monday: this hoe is bullshitting her job soooooo bad. never comes in uniform forreal its just jorts and a vaguely uniform-esq top and just has the vibe of someone who doesnt wanna be there and its because she doesnt! she's the prettiest girl at the cash register though so she gets a pass and the only consistent employee even though she sucks at stocking.

tuesday: what starts out as a day with her best friend gets turned into a mini fishing trip on the boat. packed one sandwich for herself because she didn't plan on being out all day and jj still ate it. spends most the time smoking and day drinking, listening to her mp3 player she's had since 2013--its mostly korn and britney spears. bass pro shops hat is her dads and she decided to make all her piercings the same color that day.

wednesday: what was supposed to be a fun day ended up with her getting shot at and almost arrested because now they're trespassing. the pogues kinda sorta used her as bait because one of the new recruits at the sheriffs dept wants to fuck her, jj was pissed but it got them out because she wasn't wearing a bra under that shirt and it was super thin you can see her nipples.

thursday: revenge time! turns out rafe and his little boyfriend set them up (what a dick) and they just weren't having it. jj picked her up after work and unbeknownst to the rest of the pogues, kitten and jj have concocted a plan of their own. real black air force behavior i fear--combined with her jorts and halter she looks ready to fuckin go. the mask was jjs and he just let her have it. has a massive hunting knife (also from her dad) because jj won't let her use the gun because her trigger finger is worse than his, won't stop chewing gum the whole time because shes anxious as hell but she looks low-key so intimidating in the mask + dark liner combo.

friday: party at the boneyard! she's getting fucked up after the day before and dealing with an old lady yelling at her over campbells soup coupons. she spends the night chain smoking and drinking jim beam itching for a fight because shes still filled with adrenaline from yesterday. pup tries keeping her calm but shes soooo geeked that it doesnt work and jj has to come drag her away. repeatedly gets told not to fight because her skirt is like 3 inches long, fights anyways and everyone gets a good flash of her ass (nobody complained).

saturday: hung over than a mf...needs to spend the whole time recharging which just means beer, weed and pizza. her and jj have a movie marathon and she walks around in nothing but one of his shirts and boys underwear. the scarf is for her hair (iykyk) and her mom cooks ofc because jj will eat them out of house and home.

sunday: preparing for work the next day in her fav lazy outfit: thrifted tank and skirt from a family member. spends her time with her friends, ends up babysitting her cousin the whole day but its cool she just lets her run around at the park. goes running errands with pup when rafe accosts her tryna intimidate her and she has to call jj. day ends with them all chilling back at the chateau.

#✨.txt #kitten!reader #visuals

[cultpastorkevin]

Jean ;; On Giving A Fuck

I have seen mixed reviews from the chat regarding how much yet simultaneously how little Jean cares for his Raven-teammates. They seem to settle mostly on a “he can’t help it, he cares so much, he’s just a softie at heart, all that torture and he still gives a fuck”

put the brakes on yourselves and let me explain to you something about cults : )

When you are in a cult, especially one that engages in violence and extremes, connections fucking matter. They don’t need to be deep. They don’t need to mean shit. What you need is an understanding, a “I scratch your back you scratch mine” and humans inherently will depend on and become bonded to the people they spend all their time with and are forced to trust. You need someone reliable. You need consistency. You need safety. People within the cult can provide you that, often at a cost, but in the end it is for self preservation.

Jean does not love his teammates because he is kind at heart. He does not save Zane’s life because even after so much, he values Zane. Fuck no. Jean gives a fuck because he had to; he had no choice but to, and cult connections are strong enough to kill. You don’t get to walk away from something like that.

The Ravens are dropping like flies. You ever wonder why? Once one of them killed themselves (Riko) the Nest fucking shattered. As soon as cult members start losing who they have to keep them sane and push them through the worsts, they snap. 16 Ravens got put on suicide watch. 16. That’s an entire classroom.

Riko. Jean tried. Wayne. Colleen. Zane tried. Jasmine would’ve if the suicide watch wasn’t implemented. You don’t put people in the trenches together, make them dependent on a partner setup, then forcibly rip them away from each other and expect them to be able to just cope.

Cults are a hive mind. You orbit each other whether you want to or not. Your lows drag each other down and your highs elevate you to the gods. Partnerships in cults are one of the best ways to anchor the members into them, to keep you there and trap you. You and your partner will become each others air and water. One of you stumbles the other is there to catch, and if one of you wins, the other was right behind pushing you up. There is no “me and my” there is only “us vs the world” because a cult takes you, melts you down and remolds you into a link that helps them build their fence.

The Ravens didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve feeling so lost after being removed from the Nest that to them the only natural option was to kill themselves. Jean knows this, he’s been there. He wants them all to burn because he is seeped in anger and hatred and god he wants them all to rot in hell because he loathes what the Nest stands for but it is home but he doesn’t want them to kill themselves because they don’t fucking deserve to die before getting a second chance, because them dying off makes you wonder if it was all worth it. Was it? Is continuing worth it if everyone you bled with for years is dying around you and you’re left clutching onto memories that are too heavy for one person alone to keep? Last man standing is a trope that people idolize, it means resilience and strength, an ability to beat the odds. Last man standing for a cult means indescribable guilty grief.

He is trying to unlearn soulwrenching, forced loyalty. They all are. They are so young. They didn’t deserve this.

#jean moreau #the sunshine court #tsc spoilers #aftg tsc #tsc #aftg #all for the game #edgar allan ravens #cultpastorkevin

[acerathia]

jumping into your ask with a scenario—imagine you getting close to one of the competitors, and satoru’s reaction to the flirtatious relationship, ooo I’m shaking

good morning to you too����😔

even thinking about it makes me want to chew on glass, help...

everything started with nothing but small banter, the kind you usually had with your competitors, as you both wanted to win, yet there's no real bad blood between you.

they sling an arm around your shoulder, mere minutes before it's your turn, a grin over their face.

"Ready to lose, doll?" they taunt you, and you sniff at the scandalous thought.

"No, but i am ready to destroy you," you answer, leaning towards them with a sure grin.

They open their mouth, ready for a retort, for a bet, for something to keep your focus on them longer, their gaze flickering towards your lips. But before the words even leave their tongue, they suddenly stumble away, the space you have once occupied, empty.

Instead, you’re snug against your partner, his eyes not even sparing them a glance.

His arm is around your waist, fingers fixing your hair, tugging on your costume. You're almost inclined to swatt his hands away, yet you knew that everything he does only serves your shared goal.

Still, you sigh. "Gojo, what the hell are you doing?"

His eyes meet yours, shades for once left behind, eyes sparkling at the sight of you, no, rather it was only the reflection of the lights.

"Well, I can't have my partner look like a mess, can I now?" he grins, his hand finally resting, but never leaving you.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the blubbering in your veins at the mere thought of him actually caring for you.

"Whatever. It's our turn, let's go," you grab his hand to drag him away, fingers interlocking subconsciously.

And while you’re busy psyching yourself up on the way, you miss the glare Gojo sends your competitor, something so different from his usual grin and laid-back behavior, something akin to a warning.

#twirls hair #he would he slighltu possessive... but also... would love to show off how intimate and trusting u both are... #no bodies... yet #gojo satoru x reader

[f1-disaster-bi]

dando- shoulder

Hmmm

"You know you can move, right?"

Jon is watching Daniel with an amused look. Daniel just gave him back a blinding grin because they both knew that there was no way in hell that Daniel was moving anytime soon.

"I know, but his insomnia had been bad recently", Daniel muttered softly, careful not to disturb the man in question who was huffing soft noises against Daniel's neck while using his shoulder as a pillow, "Let him sleep. I'll wake him an hour before we're needed for anything"

Jon just nodded, a relieved and pleased look crossing his face as he stepped forward. He ruffled Lando’s curls softly before dragging one of Daniel’s coats over to cover him more before he slipped out of the room, leaving them alone.

Sure, Daniel was a little uncomfortable, and he was pretty sure the pins and needles he was going to get from sitting with one leg under him were going to be murder but nothing could make him move from where he was.

Lando had crawled into his lap after the first round of media that morning. His eyes looking distant and tired, black smudges making a home on tan skin. Daniel had pressed a kiss high on his cheek before Lando had curled into him, head on Daniel’s shoulders and arms thrown around him with a sigh.

Daniel hadn't thought twice about holding him close and steady. He'd pressed a kiss to his forehead, to his nose, making Lando smile as he struggled to keep his eyes open before he sunk a hand into Lando's curls and Lando was gone.

He really and truely could sleep anywhere, but Daniel took pride in being his boyfriends favourite pillow.

Even if that did mean getting dead legs and drool on his shoulder.

#dando #daniel/lando #lando/daniel