#Reader Insert Imagine

[thatawesomenerdygirl]

Bat-army

This was a brain fart 😆

A very short one :)

**

"I work alone, Superman," Bruce insisted, his frown deepening because he just knew Clark was right behind him with his brow quirked.

"That's rich coming from you," Clark pointed towards the makeshift kitchen area Bruce had built because his wife insisted on having one so she could make something when she came around. That kitchen area currently occupied by none other than Mrs. Wayne herself.

And Dick.

And Jason... and Tim and Damian.

They were currently arguing about whether they wanted pancakes or waffles before they go out. Damian was standing on the countertop, pointing his sheathed sword at Tim.

"It would be easier for mother to make waffles," Damian hissed at the older boy, a scowl that resembled Bruce's marring his face.

"You know what, you are right," Tim raised his hands, "but we should pair it with chicken, maybe we should cut open bat-chicken and fry it."

The smug look on Damian's face turned into a pure horror as he imagined his beloved chicken—the one he had gotten just two nights ago—on a platter, fried. "Mother! Father! Did you hear what he said!?"

Mrs. Wayne gave her son a noncommittal hum as she flipped the pancake she was cooking—she was making both waffles and pancakes, while Bruce grunted quietly, the parents were not taking sides.

Jason laughed so hard he fell off the stool, continuing to lay on the floor, clutching his sides. "I can see the light," he gasped, trying to get some oxygen into his lungs between laughter.

"Don't go towards it!" Dick nudged his 'dying' brother with his foot.

Clark looked amused, "you brought the whole army here, we don't need Justice League anymore," he added with a chuckle.

"They wanted to come," Bruce responded, turning around so he could take a look at his family. The scowl he had softened just a little without him knowing.

"If you guys are all here, then who's protecting Gotham?" Diana came around the corner, looking majestic as usual, taking her spot beside Mrs. Wayne so she could learn a thing or two.

Bruce had a little smirk on his face, "Alfred."

[fictionalthrill]

Forced Hand: Chapter 1 - Inescapable Past

A/N: Greetings! Here is the first chapter of my Gwayne Hightower series. Sorry for making it such a late post! Thanks to whomever takes the time to read my writing. As I mentioned yesterday on this post, this series will not be fully canon nor will it accurately follow details from the show/book. I will follow certain details but given the nature of the story, I will take many liberties. Also, I will do my best create a HoTD environment through descriptions and dialogue, but I don't expect that to be accurate either...

Also, I will now present my blog as an 18+ space given the route I plan to take with my writing. I don't plan to write anything explicitly salacious, but certain topics and themes will come up and I just want to be cautious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Description: Lady Y/N Blackstone is informed by her father that he intends to arrange a marriage for her... again. Meanwhile, Gwayne gets a visit from his father. WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER: Nothing that requires warning. Pairing: Female Reader (Lady Y/N Blackstone) x Gwayne Hightower

There were many ways in which Y/N’s day could have started. However, as she tried to indulge her morning meal, the way her day already unfolded was certainly not what she had expected.

         “I’m sorry, father, but I must refuse to this,” she said.

         “Refuse? Darling, you cannot simply refuse, this is not how things work,” he said.

         “I believe I should be allowed to refuse yet another forced marriage attempt. I do not need to be married off, I can survive on my own. I say you do not concern yourself with me and rather focus on Lorenah’s future.”

         “Y/N, you are my daughter, as is Lorenah, both your futures are of my concern.”

         “But to go through this again? I do not wish to endure all I did the first time. I would rather Lorenah’s prospects are secured, properly, so she does not suffer the same fate as me. The rest does not matter.”

         “But it does. Who shall provide for you and look after you once I am gone?” her father said, but then found himself in a cough fit. Y/N went to stand to help but he waved his hand. “I am alright.”

         “I do not need to be looked after, father. Besides, I am far from the preferred marriage age, and my prospects have long been tarnished. You know who made sure of that.”

         “You are not far from the marriage age. It might not be the ideal but—”

         “What has brought this on again, anyways? It was aunt Sesa, was it not?”        

         “Your aunt—”

         “I knew it,” she cut him off and stood up. “Any time that woman visits she takes it upon herself to intervene in our lives and you let her!”

         “Y/N.”

         “No. She intervened when you try to marry me off and we all know how that went. Then she rushed you into finding Aianna a match, and now she’s back looking to start things up again.”

         “Y/N, how can your future be ensured if I am no longer walking the earth?”

         She came closer to him and took his hand in hers. “Father, I understand you care and in caring you worry for me, but I will be fine. Besides, I’ve already spoken to Aianna, and her and Lord Corbus are more than happy to take me in, if needs be.”

         He removed his hand from hers. “You’ve discussed this with your sister?”

         “You didn’t really believe I hoped to give marriage another try did you?”

         He stared at her. “That was not for you to discuss.”

         “No? Father, it is my life, and the last time it was in someone else’s hand, I was—”

         Just then, Sesa appeared in the room. “Good morrow, Lord Blackstone. Ah, Y/N!”

         “Aunt Sesa,” Y/N grumbled as she walked away from her father.

         “Sesa, morning,” Lord Blackstone greeted.

         Sesa approached the table and took a seat.

         “I am going to see how preparations are going for Lorenah’s arrival,” Y/N said.

         “Oh, Y/N, has your father told you the news?”

         “That—”

         “I was actually discussing it with her now.”

         “Oh, there’s no need for discussion this is great news!”          “I beg to differ,” Y/N said.

         “Y/N, it is unbecoming of a lady of your age and stature to be unwed.”

         “What is unbecoming is to be engaged one day only to find out the next it is no longer so.”

         “Y/N,” her father tried to reign her in.

         “Well, yes, that is unbecoming and unfortunate. But it does not define the rest of your life. Being a spinster, however, that can stain a family name.”

         She walked towards the doors and turned to stare at her aunt Sesa. “My status has not affected this family in any way. Aianna was able to marry well and Lorenah has garnered the favor of many suitors already, all awaiting the day father accepts an offer for her hand.”

         “Y/N,” Lord Blackstone tried again.

         “This is you having nothing to do but to meddle in our lives, yet again.”

         “Y/N!”

         Her eyes landed on her father.

         “It’s alright, Lord Blackstone,” Sesa said. “I am not meddling. Like my own two daughters, you and your sisters were born to fulfill your duties. You are to marry and provide your Lord husbands with heirs to further extend the livelihood of this house. I am only trying to aid your father so that you may pursue that.”

         “Aunt Sesa, might I remind you, that I was not the one to choose this path for myself. And this time, I refuse to be humiliated again by others making decisions for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

         “Y/N,” her father called after her as she left the room. Sesa waved him off.

         “It is alright, Lord Blackstone. Let her decompress; give her time.”

         “I am afraid she has grown too stubborn as well hot-headed.”

         “All a result of being unwed. Which is why it is so important you find her a husband before it becomes permanent.”

         “I do not know about that, Sesa. It was not until I mentioned a husband that she lashed out in that way. The gods know what fire burns inside her since her misfortune… it’s taken her time to make peace with it all and here I am looking to drag her down the aisle again.”

         “My Lord, it is a woman’s duty to wed. While the circumstances were unforeseen and out of your control, it does not mean she must be condemned to the life of a spinster. If a lord will have her as a wife, you must not pass on the opportunity. Have you sent word?”

         “Not as of yet. I have only just considered this and, so far, she is unaccepting of the idea.”

         “She will accept it in time. As fathers and mothers, we know what is best for our children.”

         “May the gods will it so. I will make it known tomorrow.”

--

         After Blackstone finally made his plans for his daughter known, several days passed and it was enough time for word to spread. The eligibility of the daughter of one of the most prominent houses in the Veil was news that would gradually reach others. However, given said daughter was once engaged, word spread like wildfire.

         Y/N did her best to keep her mind off it, resorting to avoiding the subject and everyone in her path. That was until her sister’s arrival.

Y/N stood on the steps of the Blackstone castle watching as Lorenah exited one of the family carriages and made her towards the entrance. A smile broke on Y/N’s face as Lorenah approached her and wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Oh, how I missed you!” Y/N said.

“I missed you too, sister!” Lorenah replied.

As Y/N let go, she grabbed Lorenah’s hands, and her eyes scanned her fully. “Is that a new dress?”

“Do you like it? Aianna had it made for me.”

“It is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you are.” Y/N came at her sister’s side and draped an arm over her shoulders as she guided her in. “Come, I want you to tell me everything. From the beginning of your journey to the very end. You must be hungry.”

Just as they had made it inside, their father appeared to greet Lorenah. “My sweet little, Lorenah!” He extended his arms for her, and she left Y/N’s side to hug him.

“Father!”

Lord Blackstone chuckled as he took a step back to get a better look at his youngest daughter. “You appear taller. Or am I just getting smaller?”

“It is only because you have not seen me in some time, father.”

“Maybe so.”

Suddenly, Sesa came into the room, her arms extended, but not as an opening for a hug. “My dear, Lorenah, you have returned!”

Lorenah, stood before Sesa and curtsied. “Aunt Sesa.”

“It is good to see you again, my niece.”

          “I am glad to have returned, Aunt Sesa.”

         “Right, let us eat!” Lord Blackstone said. “The cook has prepared your favorite. Go on, it should be served soon.”

         “Thank you, father.” As Lorenah proceeded to the room, Sesa not far behind her, Y/N stood in place, contemplating whether dinner would be worth sitting through.

         “Will you be joining us, Y/N?” Lord Blackstone asked. “I am sure Lorenah would be happy if you joined us.”

         “I suppose so.” Y/N was about to strut past her father when he held her hand in his.

         “Dearest, please do not continue to be angry with me. I am only trying to do what is best for you.”

         “If that were really the case you would not choose for me to endure this again.”

         “Who will look after you when I am gone? Who will provide for you if I do not find you a husband to do so?”

         “Father, Aianna and I discussed this. They are willing to take me in.”      

         A fit of coughs broke out of him before he continued. “I do not appreciate you discussing something like this with your sister. It is not up to you to make these decisions.”

         “Father, listen to yourself. You are ill. You need me here. Lorenah, needs me here.”

         He placed a hand on her cheek. “My daughter, you are unlike no other. You have always strived to put yourself last. But this is not something you can be left behind on. Please, let us get past this.”

         “Clearly, I have no choice in the matter,” she said before she walked away from her father.

--

         As the Lord of Oldtown, Ser Gwayne Hightower did not take interest in news or happenings of the Realm unless it concerned his House or the interests of the crown. If he did not hear of it from his close advisors, he would learn of it from his father, the Hand of the King. Which is why he assumed there was something of critical importance when he was informed his father arrived.

         One of his advisors left his side as he walked over to Ser Otto. “Lord Hand, I was not aware you would be coming to Oldtown.”

         “It was not planned. We must talk,” Otto said.

         “Let us go inside then.”

         Gwayne led his father towards his study. As they stepped inside, one of the servants appeared at the door. “Shall I bring forth refreshments, my lords?”

         “No, leave us.” Otto answered. The servant bowed his head and left the two men in the study.

         “Is this a matter of the crown?” Gwayne asked.

         “No, not directly.”

         “Not directly?”

         “I received word that Lord Blackstone is once again offering the hand of one of his daughters.”

         Gwayne’s eyes snapped up to his father. Now, the courting of a lord’s daughter wasn’t something that garnered his attention. But in this instance, he couldn’t help himself.

         “And this concerns us how?”

         “It is Lady Y/N.”

         It was as Gwayne feared. Still, he kept his composure before his father, as to not reveal his disappointment. “I do not understand, father. You came all the way from King’s Landing to tell me this?”

         Otto approached his son. “Not just to tell you, but to urge you to request her hand.”

         “Request her hand?”

         “Gwayne, this is a union that could be most beneficial to our family. Lady Y/N is the eldest of Blackstone’s daughter, one of the richest and most influential families of the Riverlands.”

         “All of this I know. In fact, I can recall vying for her hand once and winning it. This was then accompanied by your disapproval which led me to call off the engagement.”

         “Gwayne you were far too young and naïve for marriage, at the time. Your duty was to Oldtown.”

         “Yes, and it continues to be so. How is this now a priority? How is this now what you want?”

         Otto took a deep breath. “Blackstone is ill. When he first learned of his illness, he made it known to some of his closest advisors, that whomever his eldest should marry, would inherit Blackstone castle, along with whatever land and fortune is left to his name. Of course, he’d leave for his other daughters and whatever descendants they produced.”

         “So, that’s the interest? The inheritance?” Gwayne stared at Otto.

         “Gwayne, do you understand the influence of the Blackstones in the Riverlands? Do you know what a marriage between our houses could bring?”

         “Why now, father? Why not let me go through with it when we were already betrothed?”

         “As I already said, Oldtown was the priority. Besides, Blackstone did not decide his intentions with his inheritance until after he learned he was ill.”

         “Did he tell you all this?”

         “No. But I have a direct source who confirmed it all.”

         Gwayne sighed. “Even if I wanted to, Lord Blackstone made it clear he wanted no business with me after what I did.”

         “Leave Blackstone, to me. Focus on Lady Y/N and winning her favor.”

         “This attempt will surely be fruitless.”

         Otto placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Trust me, we will get this union.”

         “Even if Blackstone gave us his approval, what of Lady Y/N? She surely still hates me. She will never go for the marriage.”

         “Then you charm her, pursue her. Show her you want this marriage.”

         “I respect your optimism, father. But for once, I do not see how we will be successful in this endeavor.”

         “Make sure to win her favor. The rest will come about.”

         Gwayne nodded. “Fine.”

         “We leave in the evening.”

         “The evening?”

         “The sooner we meet with Blackstone, the better our advantage.”

         “Did he not just announce this?”

         “Sufficient time has passed for word to go around. Coincidently, the Prince of Dorne is traveling through land to his home. But it is well known he is in search of a wife. If he has heard about this, there is a high chance he will pay Blackstone a visit.”

         Gwayne cleared his throat. “Would leaving at dawn not be better?”

         “If we are to prevent the Prince of Dorne from persuading Blackstone, we would leave now. But being as I rushed here, I shall have a meal, and we will gather our things to leave this evening.”

         “As you wish,” Gwayne nodded.

Chapter 2 - Looking Ahead

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! May I please request the Sunrises / sunsets prompt for Maedhros x reader? Thank you <3

Hello! So for your request, I have decided to go with Sunrises.

"The new light"

Pairing: Maedhros x reader (Elf/second person POV) | Location: A campsite somewhere in Middle-Earth. 

Themes: SFW 

Warnings: Nothing

Word count: 600 words

Summary: The first sunrise is witnessed by the Ñoldorin exiles.

The new light was a revelation, and a welcomed one at that. The Ñoldor had not yet thought of what to call the orb that rose into the realm of stars and scattered the gloom with its pale, silver light. 

Seven times it traversed the heavens, and through those times you sat beside Maedhros, your eyes filled with wonder and awe. 

"What do you think it means, Maitimo?" You ponder aloud and draw your pelt even closer. The Helcaraxë was many and more leagues to the north, yet its deathly cold found its way as far south as it could go. Even now, vast mists encircled the camp with icy fingers. You shivered and grew mournful. Never in your wildest imaginings had you seen yourself drinking from the bitter cup of privation. 

Maedhros fed more wood to the fire and draped another pelt over your shoulders before moving himself to shield you with his own body. 

"I do not know," he admitted, even as he tucked stray locks of hair behind your ear. "The elders think this means hope remains and the Valar have not forsaken us completely."

His words offered little comfort. You knew Mandos' doom by heart. Everyone did. You even made peace with your inevitable fate. But perhaps the elders were right. There may be a glimmer of hope left.

"Look!" Further ahead, Caranthir cried and rose to his feet. He pointed at the sky. "Something is happening!"

Everyone rose as the heavens changed yet again, and slowly. A great lamentation arose and spread throughout the camp as the orb of silver left its place in the heavens and dipped and dipped until its light had disappeared beneath the horizon. All that remained was the feeble light of a few stars. 

"Maitimo?" You turned to Maedhros as fear gripped your heart. "Does this mean the Valar have had a change of heart?"

Maedhros did not know what this all meant. And he did not like seeing you fearful either. It made him feel weak.

"Do not let this trouble your heart," he replies, urging you to sit beside him again. "The Valar would not have set that orb in the heavens just to toy with us."

"Perhaps." Small comfort again, but you accepted it all the same. 

Someone made a stew. Another portioned out chunks of hard bread. Others passed out skins of water. It had rained, which in itself was a blessing, and the water was cool and fresh. Maitimo urged you to eat and drink and talk of happier times. Someone started to sing. Your eyes finally grew heavy as the need for slumber started to overtake you. 

Just as you were about to sleep, a watcher cried out, this time from the western side of the camp. "Look! Look over there!"

Everyone turned to look. The heavens had changed again, this time with a thin line of pale yellow light stretching across the horizon. That light grew brighter and stronger, and a vivid display of gold and orange and pink and buttery yellow slowly spread across the sky. The stars disappeared, one by one. The clouds looked like they had been kissed by fire. The air grew warmer, and birds began to sing softly. You turned to Maedhros again. A smile slowly worked its way across his face, lighting it up from within. That smile broadened, and you returned it with one that was part joy and part relief. Maedhros returned to his customary place by the fire, and you took yours beside him. The two of you sat together in companionable silence while a brilliant golden orb rose higher and higher and drove away the darkness. 

[v1x3n]

innocent virgin reader this, sweet virgin reader that

how about virgin reader whos far from innocent, you probably know more about sex than toji - just no hands on experience. you are the filthiest person on earth!! you have a sex drive that flys off the charts, constantly rubbing at your poor hole, pinching your clit and nipples.

you're also far from sweet, you're crude and cruel. that's why toji was so drawn to you. when he discovered you were a virgin, he couldn't believe it honestly. he didn't ask any questions, didn't care. he just knew he had to have you.

he expected you to be shy during your first time, but no, you were a filthy fucking mess.

sprawled out beneath him, his tip entering your tight cunt. you moan loud, meeting his eyes. toji groaned out, a strained, growl. your eyes lock with his, direct eye contact as he shoves his dick further into you. deep breaths swarm the sticky room.

the pace picks up, you had complained it wasn't fast enough so fuck, he would show you. you're gripping tight onto the bedsheets, spurting everywhere as drool runs out from your lips. he thrusts into you with a fury, stretching your virgin hole in a harsh way. but you loved it. you open your mouth and he spits into it. you swallow instantly, he didn't even need to tell you. toji frees a hand and lowers himself onto you, trapping you with his body and his heat. your body smushed by his larger one, his free hand runs a thumb over your cheek.

you grin at him. "that all you got?" you challenge, smirk plastered over your satified expression. and just as those wods utter out, a slap is brought to your cheek. well ,fuck.

you cum right there, cream ringing around his dick as you clench like a fist around him. he groans out and his breath stutters. hips copying his lungs and stuttering too.

toji lets out a hot load, deep inside of you. his body twitching and shaking as if it was his first time. he had expected you to be the same, fucked out, passed out possibly, from the intense orgasm you just had. but no, you were smiling sweetly at him, "round two?"

[thatboisus]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[magical-reid]

The Soldier and His Mission

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Summary: When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment Bucky went still.

One second, the mission was wrapping up—just another Hydra facility wiped off the map, just another set of goons taken down. The next, something triggered him. A phrase muttered in Russian over a radio, the faintest crackle of a long-dead handler’s voice. You saw the shift in his posture before he even turned around, the telltale tightening of his jaw, the blankness overtaking those usually warm blue eyes.

Bucky Barnes was gone.

The Winter Soldier stood in his place.

And yet—he didn’t hurt you.

Not when he turned to face the team, his body language bristling with danger. Not when Steve hesitated before stepping forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And certainly not when you cautiously called his name, your voice softer than the others.

Instead, the Soldier moved between you and everyone else.

A shield.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Tower, you thought the episode would pass. That maybe, after a few hours, after enough familiar sights and sounds, Bucky would shake it off like he always did.

But the Soldier wasn’t leaving. And he had decided you were his mission.

Not to eliminate.

To protect.

At first, it was just hovering. You moved—he followed. You sat—he stood at your back, ever watchful. The others gave him space, exchanging worried glances when they thought you weren’t looking. Steve was tense, obviously trying to figure out how to break through, while Tony was less patient about it.

“This is a problem,” Stark declared after the first few hours, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “I mean, I hate to be the one to say it, but we have a fully armed, brainwashed assassin in the Tower again, and we all know how that went last time.”

“He’s not attacking anyone,” Natasha pointed out.

“Yet,” Tony shot back.

You ignored the argument as best you could, focusing instead on cooking something for Bucky—something normal, something familiar, something that might ground him. His eyes tracked you the entire time.

Then you miscalculated the heat on the stove.

The oil in the pan hissed and spat, and a second later, you hissed too as a sharp sting bloomed across your palm. You barely had time to react before there was a sudden blur of motion.

Bucky was on you instantly.

His flesh hand gripped your wrist, his metal one hovering protectively over the stove, as if it had personally attacked you. His face was unreadable, but his grip was firm, his hold gentle as he examined the burn.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, but he wasn’t listening.

Instead, he took the cold pack you hadn’t even reached for yet and pressed it carefully to your palm, his jaw tight, his brows furrowed in focus. You exchanged a look with Steve over Bucky’s shoulder, and the Captain exhaled, something like relief flashing in his eyes.

He was still in there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Soldier continued shadowing you for the next two days, much to Tony’s frustration. But as Natasha had pointed out—he wasn’t hurting anyone.

Unless they posed a threat to you.

That was something Steve learned firsthand during a sparring session. You had barely landed a hit before Bucky, watching from the sidelines, had moved. The next thing you knew, Steve was on his ass, blinking up at the ceiling, while Bucky stood between you like a human wall, eyes cold and calculating.

“For the record,” Steve grunted as he sat up, rubbing his ribs, “I was letting her win.”

Bucky wasn’t convinced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It wasn’t until you needed a medical checkup that things really came to a head.

“Barnes, I have to actually examine her,” Dr. Cho said patiently, eyeing where Bucky stood between you and the med bay’s equipment.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Bucky—” you tried.

“The room is secure.”

“That’s not the—”

“She does not require assistance.”

“I do require assistance,” you corrected. “Because I burned my hand and twisted my shoulder thanks to a certain super soldier overreacting in the gym.”

Bucky didn’t move.

You exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” you said, shifting tactics. “Then stay.”

That got his attention.

“If you want to make sure nothing happens to me,” you reasoned, “then you can stay here. But you have to let the doctor check me out.”

His expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity—

“…Understood.”

Progress.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When it finally broke, it wasn’t dramatic.

There was no grand trigger, no huge revelation.

Just a moment of quiet.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, exhaustion finally winning after two days of Bucky’s overprotective hovering. When you woke up, it was to warm hands gently brushing over your wrist—both flesh and metal, but softer this time, as if relearning the feeling of touching you.

And then you heard it—his breath hitching.

A tiny, barely-there sound, but one filled with something raw.

You blinked sleepily, looking up.

Bucky was staring at you. Not the Soldier. Bucky.

His face was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes wide—his real eyes.

“…Doll?” His voice cracked over the word, like it had been caught in his throat.

You smiled sleepily, shifting so your fingers curled around his. “Hey, Buck.”

His exhale was shaky. His shoulders sagged. And when you tugged him down to you, he didn’t resist.

He just buried his face in your neck and held on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You scared the hell out of me, you know,” you murmured later, your fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as he rested against you.

“I know,” he admitted, voice rough.

“You threw Steve like a ragdoll.”

“…Yeah.”

“…Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

A laugh. Quiet, but real.

And just like that, Bucky Barnes was back.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[hanasnx]

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

[uramakimochi]

me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[shortnsweetsposts]

Child!Damian: *Trying to hug Bat!reader*

Bat!reader: Leave alone, baby.

Child!Damian: *Looked up at Bat!reader with them big ol'eyes*

Bat!reader: ...

Bat!reader, starts ugly sobbing and hugged child!Damian back: YOU'RE MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Batfam: Oh wow

[thatawesomenerdygirl]

I like you too if you hadn’t noticed | Tim Drake

**

oh my god I’m posting again 😆 then proceeds to disappear for years.

Friends to lovers. Batmom mentioned.

**

The first time you realised that you were falling for your best friend it felt like being hit with a brick, like one of  Two-face's thugs punched you right in the gut, you did not expect that. You and Tim had always been so close ever since you met him at school, now the two of you are in the University together, despite taking different majors you still made time for each other.

Innocent touches that meant nothing more than friendly gestures were starting to get you all flustered. He started to appear in your dreams, he'd kiss you in those dreams, looked at you right in the eyes and told you how much he adored you, cradled you against his chest.

"You are spacing out," Tim's voice cut through your racing thoughts, your eyes flick towards him, wide and then you blush. He was so close.

The two of you were currently sitting on the picnic blanket in the Wayne manor's garden, doing your own respective homework. Mrs. Wayne had kindly prepared some snacks and drinks for the two of you, she was such a kind woman.

His brows furrow, worry clear in eyes and he leaned closer.

Gosh, he is handsome.

"Are you sick?"

"No," you shook your head, you cannot look away because he'd notice a shift in your attitude and because you cannot stop looking into those pretty blue eyes.

"You are red," he pressed a palm against your forehead to try and get a feel of your temperature, "warm as well, are you sure you're ok?"

Because of you, you thought. "I'm fine, Tim," you gently pulled his hand of your forehead.

You didn't notice but Tim took a quick glance at your lips when you spoke, fixated at the way your tongue flick out to wet them.

He leaned back, observing you, "whatever is in your mind right now, you can tell me, you know that, right?"

"I know," you sighed, closing your book. There was no way you could concentrate now, your feelings for him had ran too deep. "But not this one."

Tim didn't push, that was one of the traits that drew you to him, he was an absolute nerd and he could ramble about anything that peaked his interest for hours, you always listened to him even though you didn't understand what he was saying most of the time, pleading him to translate it in English which always made him apologize shyly and rephrase what he had told you using words you could understand.

You laid down on the blanket, staring up at the blue sky. Everything reminded you of him now, you'd done so many things together after all.

He laid down on his side beside you, propped up on his elbow so he could look at you. "Is it about me?" He asked, his fingers were rough compared to yours but they were gentle as he brushed some strands of hair off your face.

"Huh? What makes you think that?"

"I noticed, you know," he had this really cute, really attractive, amused smile that made your stupid heart beat faster, the butterflies in your stomach flutter and your lips part to let out a shaky breath.

You didn't speak so he continued, "the way your gaze linger at me, the way you take a deep, deep breath when I'm around, the way your eyes brighten whenever you see me," he hooked a finger under your chin to tilt your head up so you'd look at him again. "You are not very subtle."

"Nerd," was all you could manage. You were going to have a mini heart attack with the way he looked right through you. You often forgot that he was pretty much a detective. Yes, you knew about his late night activities—if you could call it that.

"Very creative, I'll take it," he laughed.

You loved the sound of his laughter—you were so infatuated with him. "Don't laugh like that," you were just so flustered.

Your little protests only made him laugh a little more. "I like you too, if you hadn't noticed," he finally said. "I have liked you since you spilled your coffee all over me."

"I-it was an accident!" You stuttered, giving his arm a whack. It was so embarrassing that you ruined his expensive shirt but he wasn't mad.

"Sure, it was," he grinned.

A pause between the two of you, neither of you said a thing, just stared at each other, your gazes locked, his thumb brushed over your lips, then he spoke again.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you bit your lower lip, "please."

He leaned down then, his hand moved to cup your face. It was a feather light touch, a hesitant kiss despite his teasing earlier, just a soft press of his lips against yours but it ignited your entire body, almost toe curling. Then his kiss shifted, his lips moved to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek and lastly your forehead.

When he pulled back, he had a shy smile on his face as he looked at you again. His pupils were dilated, yours were probably the same too.

"Do that again, please?" You tugged him down by the collar of his shirt.

He breathed out a chuckle but he leaned down once more, "you're going to be the death of me." He kissed you.

[fictionalthrill]

Forced Hand Chapter 2 - Looking Ahead

A/N: Greetings! First of all, I want to apologize for taking so long to upload this second chapter. I have had a lot going on since posting the first one and it wasn't until recently that I had the chance to complete it. For those who have been patient and are still sticking around, thank you! I will try and make more time to roll out the chapters at a reasonable schedule.

Once again, I want to stress that I will now be presenting my blog as an 18+ space given the route I plan to take with my writing. I don't plan on posting anything that is explicitly salacious, but there will be suggestive themes and topics which is why I want to be cautious.

Follow this link for the first chapter in the Forced Hand series.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Description: Lady Y/N's reluctance of marriage is clear, and her distaste is noticeable when Prince Qoren of Dorne arrives to court her. Meanwhile, Gwayne and his father set out to Blackstone castle.

WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER: Suggestive themes.

Pairing: Female Reader (Lady Y/N Blackstone) x Gwayne Hightower

Overjoyed by the return of her sister, Y/N spent most of her time with Lorenah. Y/N had her recount her time with Aianna and all she got to see.

     “My quarters in Lord Corbus’s castle overlooked the water and every evening I could watch the sun set. It appeared as if the sea would swallow it whole every day.”

     Y/N smiled as she listened to her sister. The two sat in a gazebo overlooking the gardens of the castle. The gardens held a prominent place in her heart, as they reminded her of her mother.

     Lorenah continued. “But enough about my travels. How do you feel about father offering your hand?”

     Y/N’s smile faded. “I do not wish to think of it, let alone speak of it.”

     “I have avoided the subject long enough…” Lorenah sat up straighter in her chair. “I can understand why you are upset, but marriage is a good thing.”

     “What do you know of marriage, Lorenah?”

     “I am ten and four already, I am not a child.”

     “Being ten and four does make you a child.”

     “Does not. And I know what I have been taught, as well as what I have seen. Besides, it is what I have been raised for. It is my duty, just as much as it is yours.”

     “You are beginning to sound like Sesa.” Y/N shook her head.

     “Because I believe marriage is a good thing? Because I long for it?”

     “Because you are trying to convince me of something I already believed in once. Until I was let down.”

     “It does not mean you cannot try again.”

     “Lorenah, please. I do not wish to discuss this.”

     Suddenly, Sesa appeared in a hurry before the two sisters. “There you are.”

     “Is everything alright, Aunt Sesa?” Lorenah asked.

     “A carriage is about to arrive at the castle. They have requested an audience with Lord Blackstone. We must receive them with him.”

     The girls stood up. “Were we expecting someone?” Y/N asked.

     “No. They have asked for passage through the Riverlands but not before stopping here. Off we go!” Sesa practically pushed them towards the castle.

     When they nearly arrived at the entrance of the castle, Lord Blackstone came across them as he was making his way outside to receive the carriage. “Girls, Sesa, what are you doing here?”

     “We have come to receive the visitor with you, my lord,” Sesa said.

     “Who exactly are we meeting, father?” Lorenah asked.

     Lord Blackstone coughed before he answered. “The Prince of Dorne.”

     “The Prince of Dorne? Well, we must not keep him waiting, my lord,” Sesa said.

     As they reached the outside of the castle, a carriage with a small company of Dornish men, came to halt. The driver of the carriage jumped to the ground and opened the door, revealing a tanned and muscular man with dark hair. As he stepped down from the carriage, he looked towards the Blackstones and flashed them a grin.

     “Good evening, Lord Blackstone,” he said. His accent thick but his words were clear.

     “Good evening, Prince Qoren,” he said as he walked down some steps to meet him halfway. “To what do I owe this unplanned visit?”

     “My apologies. You see, I was returning to Dorne, after my visit to King’s Landing, when I caught word, in my passage through the Stormlands, of one of your daughters’ availability for marriage.”

     When Y/N heard this her heart climbed to her throat and she did her best to hide both her fear and anger.

     Lord Blackstone took a quick glance at her. “Right, well, I see word travels fast.”

     “Faster than my carriage, that is for sure,” Qoren put on his most charming smile, “You see, Lord Blackstone, I am seeking a wife at this very moment in my life. And when I heard of your daughter, I thought it best for me to introduce myself personally, and try and vie for her hand, with your blessing, if granted.”

     Blackstone coughed. “Yes. Well, I do appreciate your decision to come yourself.”

     “Of course. I only request an audience with you and…” he locked eyes with Y/N “that your daughter give me a moment of her time so that we may get to know one another.”

     “I would not mind an audience, but it is the evening…”

     “Yes, I apologize for arriving so late. As I mentioned before, we were riding through the Stormlands when I heard the news and diverted our path here, not really anticipating if we would arrive by the morning or by the night. But I would gladly come again tomorrow to do things properly if I am welcomed.”

     “That would be preferred.”

     “Excellent, my company and I will set camp near your castle for the night. Do you approve?”

     “Yes.”

     “Very good then. I shall see you tomorrow, Lord Blackstone.” Qoren turned his attention to the women standing at the top of the steps and bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Ladies.” Prince Qoren climbed back into his carriage and left along with his company.

     Lord Blackstone walked back up the steps and passed by his daughters and Lady Sesa. She, however, did not waste any time intervening.

     “My lord, this prospect will surely be beneficial to Y/N.”

     Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed at Sesa’s comment.

     “Beneficial how, Sesa?” Blackstone asked.

     “It could heighten the interest of another suitor. And more suitors means more choices.”

     Blackstone stopped in his tracks and turned Y/N. “Is this something you would be willing to entertain?”

     “Are you seriously inquiring me on this?” Y/N said.

     “He is a prince, I thought—”

     Y/N scoffed. “You really believe I would see a prince and my opinion on an arranged marriage would change? Do you think me that shallow?”

     “No, Y/N, I—”

     But before he could speak his daughter left. Blackstone, Sesa, and Lorenah watched as she stomped away.

     “I will go check on her,” Lorenah said.

     “I admire your bravery, my dear. But I believe it is best we leave her alone.”

     “I understand, father.”

     “Let us go prepare for dinner,” Blackstone said.

--

     The ride from Oldtown to Blackstone Castle in the Riverlands was a rather long one. It was proving to be exhausting to both Gwayne and his father. There was a silence in the Hightower carriage for the first half of their journey.

     “Once we arrive, I will request an audience with Lord Blackstone,” Otto said. “I will want you there so that he sees you are willing to face him after all this time.”

     Gwayne cleared his throat. “How are you so sure he will receive us?”

     “Blackstone is not one to hold a grudge. He will at least hear us out.”

      Gwayne only nodded his head.

     “How do you intend to win her over?”

     “I am not sure. It certainly was not something I expected to have to do… again.”

     “Should we stop for a gift on our way? Jewelry, perhaps?”

     “She is not one for jewelry.”

     “No? A dress, then? Some type of sweet? Or do you know of something she would prefer over those things?”

     “Flowers…” Gwayne glanced out the carriage, “She adores flowers.”

--

     The next morning Y/N awakened from her deep slumber when the doors to her chambers burst open. In stormed Sesa with three handmaidens. She walked towards the windows and spread the curtains, allowing the sunlight to beam through.

     “Time to wake up, my dear niece, it is long past dawn.”

     “Aunt Sesa, I do not remember requesting a morning call.”

     “You did not, I took it upon myself,” Sesa looked at a one of the handmaidens, “Prepare her a bath.”

     A handmaiden rushed out of the room.

     “And you, bring the finest dresses she owns, especially the ones sent by Aianna.”

     At her order, another handmaiden proceeded to gather Y/N’s dresses.

     “What exactly is the purpose of this wakeup call?”

     “Do not pretend to have forgotten, dear niece. You will have a gentleman caller today; it is critical you look your best and are prepared.”

     “I would hardly call him that,” Y/N commented.

     “He is a prince, with an interest in marriage, and above all, an interest in you.”

     “He is the Prince of Dorne, I am sure he has women dropping to their knees for him, both literally and figuratively.”

     The handmaiden that carried the dress options snickered at Y/N’s statement.

     “Y/N! A lady is not to speak in such a manner!” An outraged Sesa said.

     “A lady is not to speak truth?”

     “Enough. I will leave you to be bathed and dressed.” Sesa glanced at the handmaiden with the dresses and pointed at one of them. “That one. Aianna certainly has great taste.”

     At Sesa’s exit, Y/N looked at the handmaiden. “Is it too much to ask for you to submerge me in the bath?”

     “My apologies, my lady, but it would not be ideal.”

     “Figures.”

--

     After her bath, the handmaidens helped Y/N into one of the dresses her sister Aianna had gifted her. It was a fully gray with gold detailing, ensemble. The top was a body corset with gold buttons and a slightly open high neck and open collar. The skirt was straight with a bit of flare, mostly noticeable when she walked. Once the handmaidens finished, Y/N joined her father, her sister, and her Aunt Sesa for their morning meal. Though she attempted to enjoy her meal in silence, it proved difficult to avoid the conversation about the dornish prince.

     Still, when the prince’s arrival was announced, Y/N realized she would have preferred to endure a whole day of conversations about the prince than to have to speak with him. But alas, this was the hand she was dealt in life. It was not as if it could be any worse.

     While her father met in his study with the prince, Y/N waited for the inevitable in the gardens. Sitting at their gazebo, she twiddled her thumbs as she stared towards the doors that led from the castle to the gardens.

     “Mind if I join you?” Lorenah asked.

     “Of course.” Y/N forced a smile.

     Lorenah acknowledged her sister’s discomfort. “You look beautiful. Aianna’s gift suits you well.”

     “Thank you.”

     Lorenah took a deep breath. “Would you like for me to speak to father? Perhaps if I say something he—”

     “No, Lorenah. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I believe it is best you not get involved in this.”

     “But—”

     “No. Thank you, but no. Let us allow these things to unfold on their own.”

“I know I said I believe marriage to be a good thing, but I must confess, I do not like the idea of you living in Dorne.”

“Stop, I am not going to Dorne. It is not as if an engagement with the prince is definitive. I will make him wish he had gone to his homeland sooner rather than later.”

“Y/N, you mustn’t be rude either.”

“I won’t be,” she said. "I will simply highlight just how incompatible we are."

Just then, she spotted her father entering the gardens with Prince Qoren. As they approached the gazebo, Y/N stood before them, Lorenah was a few steps behind.

“Prince Qoren, I would like to formally introduce my daughter, Y/N Blackstone,” Lord Blackstone said.

As Y/N curtsied, the prince reached for her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Y/N.” His eyes surveyed the young woman, not hiding his intrigue.

Fighting the urge to toss him a sarcastic comment, Y/N smiled at the man, and he released her hand. Her eyes scanned his appearance; a golden, deep V-neck top that exposed most of his chest, while his dark curls dripped over his shoulders.

Lord Blackstone watched them closely before introducing his youngest. “And that little one behind her is Lorenah Blackstone.”

Lorenah curtsied and the prince bowed his head in acknowledgement. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Might I request an audience with you, Lady Y/N? I would very much like for you to get to know me and assess my character yourself.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “Right, father?”

“I think that is a wonderful idea. Feel free to stroll the gardens while you do so. Lorenah and I shall chaperone from here.”

Qoren took a step to the side granting Y/N the room to walk ahead. As she proceeded through one of the garden paths, Qoren gave one last curt nod to Blackstone and joined Y/N’s side.

“I am grateful for the opportunity you have granted me, Lady Y/N.”

“Of course, my prince.”

As they took a couple steps in silence, the prince spoke again. “Might I be so bold to state that you are without a doubt, a stunning woman.”

Though her cheeks grew warm, Y/N attempted to play off the comment. “I appreciate your compliment, but I have seen dornish women. I do not come close.”

“I respectfully disagree. I believe you would fit right in with the women of Dorne. You are undoubtedly beautiful.”

"And you are rather forward."

"I am honest."

"Is that what you call it?" Y/N said.

Qoren chuckled. "In Dorne, we never let a woman's beauty go unrecognized. And after my time with the Dothraki, I have not missed a single opportunity to admire the beauty around me."

His statement on the Dothraki caught Y/N's interest. "The Dothraki? You lived among them?"

"Yes. I was with them for some time. Learned a great deal from them."

"And what exactly can one learn from the Dothraki?"

     "For one, how to fight. They are fearless warriors. I also had the pleasure of embracing their culture and their language. It is quite rich and unlike what you are all used to in Westeros."

Y/N continued to listen to Qoren. "Seems like it was a rigorous experience."

"It was. I was there for five years."

Y/N stopped by the forget-me-nots at the end of the path. She examined them closely and took in their scent, all the while Qoren admired her. Y/N then turned to Qoren.

"Since you are being honest, might I be frank?"

"Please."

She continued walking and Qoren joined her side. "I confess, Prince Qoren, I no longer harbor an interest in marriage."

A grin broke along his lips. "Lord Blackstone may have alluded to that. I do appreciate your frankness."

"I am surprised my father alluded to it, as you said."

"Might I ask why it is that you are no longer interested in marriage? Do you disapprove of the institution or me as your suitor?"

Y/N locked eyes with him. She sighed deeply. "I have nothing against you, my Prince. I simply lost interest in the idea of marriage."

"Might I ask what led you to make this decision?"

"Not what, more of a who… You know nothing about what happened?"

"I am afraid I do not."

"So, you just changed course to try and court someone you knew nothing about?"

     Qoren shrugged. "You could say that."

     "I did say that. Now, I thought you were honest. Do not start to hold back now."

     "I must admit, I did not know much about you. But what could be so bad that a woman like you would be unmarried at this stage of her life?"

     Y/N took a deep breath and did her best to avoid the conversation. But Qoren continued.

     "Trust me, Lady Blackstone, there is nothing about you or your past that would lead me to look at you differently. I would not refrain from courting you unless you want me to."

     Y/N locked eyes with the prince again. She contemplated telling him the truth, not that she cared what he of all people thought. She simply hated to relieve the reality over and over again. She tore her eyes away from him.

     "I was engaged once. The eldest son of family I had known my whole life, he asked my father for my hand in marriage. I was…"

     "In love?"

     "No… not--I do not know…"

     Had she been in love? All she could remember was the humiliation and above all, the hurt.

     "I remember I looked forward to it."

     "What happened?"

     "He called off the wedding. Two days before I was set to walk down the aisle."

     "Do you have any idea as to why he did it?"

     "No. And I do not care to find out."

     They walked in silence for a couple of steps before Qoren spoke again.

     "I am sorry that happened to you." He snuck a glance behind her to see just how much of his actions his father and sister would see. The rows of flowers and small trees hid them a bit. Qoren stepped closer to Y/N and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. His eyes bore into hers. "And know, that if it had been me, I would not have hesitated to marry you."

     His closeness threw Y/N off. She cleared her throat and turned her eyes to the flowers as she glided past him. "I appreciate your… kindness? But I do not believe we would be a great match."

     "Why is that?"

     "We are just too different. We come from very different places."

     He sighed. "My lady, I understand the idea of Dorne can be quite intimidating, but if you gave it a chance, you would realize," he leaned towards her, "that Dorne is actually better." He whispered that last bit.

     "Better? In what way exactly?"

     "We provide the freedom for people to express themselves. To explore their desires."

     "The freedom of expression and exploration of desires you speak of mean something entirely different from what you are conveying."

     "Is that so? Care to tell me what it is I am conveying?"

     "A reality that I should not discuss, least of all with a male suitor."

     Qoren licked his lips as he attempted to hide his amusement. "I had forgotten there are more puritans than free people past the border of Dorne."

     "If you think of us as such puritans, then why pursue a wife here?"

     "I thought it would be in our best interest to show unity with those beyond our land. And I wanted to explore my desires beyond Dorne."

     "Well, I am sorry that you have come all this way to be disappointed."

     "Who said I was disappointed?"

     "I assumed you would be, seeing as we are so different. And I would clearly be out of place in Dorne. I have no desires like your people do."

     "No desires? See, on this I believe you are wrong. Everyone has desires, we all desire something. Some people just need someone to help bring them to the surface."

     Y/N shook her head as she laughed at the prince's words.

     "I am glad I amuse you. It is a good sign."

     The two continued to chat as they toured the outside quarters of Blackstone castle. When Y/N noticed only Lorenah remained in the gazebo, she figured her father was in his study. So, she rounded the castle with the prince until they reached another entrance, and she guided him inside.

     "Where are you taking me, my lady?"

     "I am sure my father would want speak to you after our little stroll, so I am taking you back to his study."

     "Perhaps you could show me your own private quarters," he suggested. "I am curious to see what they are like."

     Once again Y/N shook her head and rolled her eyes at the man who grinned mischievously at her.

     "I am sure the women in Dorne would leap at the opportunity to do that, but I am not like them. Besides, you would never get my father's approval--"

     Y/N's words were cut short when she stepped inside the open study and her eyes landed on the three men that sat in the room. Her father sat at his desk and across from him to his right was the Lord Hand himself, Otto Hightower, and to his right the Hand's son.

     "Gwayne…" was all that left Y/N's lips.

     Upon seeing her, Gwayne rose to his feet clumsily before composing himself. "Lady Y/N," he said.

     Shocked, Y/N turned away, expressing a low apology before disappearing from the room. Gwayne and the rest of men remained quiet after her exit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adding two readers that asked for tags. Thanks for reading y'all! @deniixlovezelda @wallacewillow0773638

[movrningstxrs]

“my boyfriend wants to show you his books, and you better say they’re cool,” you demanded while glaring at the camera. an amused jason could be seen in the back as you made way for him to take center stage. “go, babe.”

“hi,” your boyfriend awkwardly greeted before showing off the two paperback books in his hands. “so this one is ‘frankenstein’ by mary shelley. i know we all dreaded reading it in high school, but i really relate to frankenstein’s monster, and the story’s pretty good if you just give it a chance. plus, it’s a pioneer for the science-fiction genre, so that’s cool.”

you could be seen behind jason making threatening gestures with your hands, almost as if to say ‘leave a nice comment, or you’re getting blocked!’

“and this one is ‘pride and prejudice’ by jane austen. another oldie but a classic,” jason said with a nonchalant shrug. “the writing’s beautiful, and i love elizabeth’s character because she reminds me of a certain someone. probably one of my favourite books of all time and just a really good comfort read.”

he turned to see your face quickly morph into heart-eyes and a sweet smile.

“good job, honey. that was a great presentation,” you praised before giving his cheek a loving kiss.

“oh, and i’m also part of a book club. we meet at the community center in the bowery every thursday evening. new members are always welcome,” jason off-handedly added.

“and new members are always welcome,” you sharply reiterated, glancing at the camera with a scary scowl and furrowed brows. “see you thursdays.”

gothambaddiexoxo commented: this man was written by a woman lol singleasapringle commented: girl, where can i get myself a boyfriend like this 😭 birdzofprey0 commented: sooo does everyone in this book club look like him or?? asking for a friend

inspired by this video here. REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated

[bananastarlo]

Warning: NSFW!

Thinking about nerdy yandere who is more than willing to help you study for your next exam. You invite him over since you think he’ll be easy to take advantage of. After all, his shy demeanor and nerdy interests don’t faze you at all.

What you don’t expect is how easily his patience snaps.

“Please, try to at least follow what I’m saying — are you even listening?”

Now he’s inside of you, trying to at least get you to do something right.

“That’s wrong,” he grunts, slowing his pace and abandoning your pussy as you whimper and tremble in need. “Come on, baby, just like I taught you.”

You grind yourself against him, mind foggy from how many times he’s denied your orgasm when you didn’t know the answer to his stupid questions.

As you stutter out the answer he’s waiting for, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into your throat and igniting a burning ache in your tummy, the pool of arousal beneath you only growing.

And without warning, you feel his throbbing dick pumping back into you, filling you up perfectly as he begins to mercilessly pound into you. His sweaty body slaps against your own, combined with his loud moans, filling the room with the lewdest and most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Tell me what you need. Tell me you need me, that you won’t ever need another man because I can make you feel so good. Ugh, f-fuck!”

His voice cracks as his eyes roll back, forehead glistening with sweat. He feels your cunt clench around him as you come undone under him, body shivering, waiting for him to cum too.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling his own orgasm approaching at the sight of you completely disheveled.

You’re already overstimulated by the time he thrusts deep inside of you for the last time.

You can’t think straight anymore, but he makes sure to push his thick, heavy load inside you. When he finally pulls out and you’re still dripping, he drops to his knees in front of you, licking and cleaning up the mess you two made. You gasp. Looking down, seeing him like this, gazing up at you with that hunger in his eyes, makes you mewl in feverish delight.

“Look at you… being so obedient after all. You liked that, hm?”

All you can do is lazily nod, earning a cocky grin.

“Next time I visit,” he breathes against your skin, “you better have all the answers ready — so I can make you feel even better, yeah?”

[thatboisus]

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading