#and i was like oh no it's not nearly as manageable

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

[straykeedz]

[small penis humiliation with chan]

a/n: we love small cocks here and we’re not shaming anyone <3 small cocks are equally as cute and valid as big cocks and every other cock! this is just reader and chan exploring their kinks! with that being said… idk what this is. my brain went like 👹 small penis humiliation with chan write that write that write that 👹 while i was trying to study so here we are. hope u enjoy it <3

a/n 2: if you’re bang chan……… go away there’s nothing for you to see here 👹

tw: afab reader ; degradation (but they love each other i promise i was there) ; unprotected piv sex (don’t!!!) ; chris is shy and subby ; mommy kink ; kink exploration ; clit play ; breeding is mentioned ; creampie ; implied porn watching ;

wc: around 1k ;

smut under the cut. minors dni. 18+ ONLY. don’t follow me if you don’t have your age in your bio. i’ll block you.

⋆｡‧ʚ🍓ɞ‧｡⋆

you blurt it out when he’s least expecting it - just to see his reaction at first, ready to take it back and dismiss it with a giggly “i’m kissing, i’m kidding”. you don’t expect him to blush until the redness reaches the tip of his ears and fucking whimper. that’s what pushes you to continue with your little evil plan.

“is it in yet?”

chan stops right then right there, halting his movements inside of you. what do you mean is it in yet? do you… are you talking about his dick? chan is genuinely confused because - he’s been fucking you for ten minutes now, of course it’s in.

“huh? you mean…?”

“your cock. did you put it in? is it in yet?” you start teasing him by kissing and licking his neck, sucking a faint mark on his skin. “put it in, babe. wanna feel you. wan’ you to fuck me, babe, please.”

he’s beyond confused. “i… uh, babe, it’s… i mean, it is in. we’ve- we’ve been fucking?” he narrows his eyes at you and furrows his brows.

you tip your head back to look at him. “oh. but, like… you mean just the tip, right?”

he blinks at you a couple of times. “what are you talking about?” he dips his head to look at the spot between your legs where his body meets yours, and your gaze follows his. “no. it’s fully in. see?” he pulls out only to slam back inside of you.

“oh. you have such a small cock, channie, it’s so… cute. how are you planning on making me cum with that?”

and you know it’s far from the truth, he knows it - he’s always managed to make you cum perfectly fine. sure, his cock is not huge and he’s definitely not hung, but it’s not minuscule either, like you’re implying.

he looks taken aback - cock buried inside of you, and definitely harder than it was before. you feel it twitch. bingo. “i, uh… uh, what?”

his eyes are big and round. you clench around him and nearly make him see stars. “it’s so… tiny. i almost can’t feel it inside of me. i genuinely thought it was just the tip.”

his face drops in the crook of your neck as he bucks his hips into yours out of instinctual reflex. he hates that he loves it so much. “babe… what… i’m not following…”

you giggle, playing with his soft curls. “there’s nothing to follow. your cock is literally so little, babe. i doubt you can make me cum with it, but feel free to try your hand at it.”

“i’m not sure what game you’re trying to play here. i’ve done it before. multiple times. i can make you cum just fine.”

“can you, though?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrow at him. “put that ridiculously small cock to good use, then.”

“i-“ he lets out a shameless, lewd whimper.

“are you gonna fuck me or not?”

chan shuts his mouth and resumes thrusting inside of you, a little harder than before, like he wants to prove something to you. he even hooks his arm under one of your knees so that he can reach a deeper spot inside of you, a whole new angle that has your pussy practically dripping around him. you don’t let out a sound, though, doing your best to suppress your moans. you want to tease him, push him to his limits, indulge his fantasies a little longer.

“literally so small,” you huff, feigning annoyance. “i swear it feels just like one of your fingers. not even two. i swear to god even your fingers are thicker and longer.”

“they’re n-not. you k-know it’s not true,” he pants, hips snapping faster to meet yours. “you know i can- i can pleasure you like nobody else. i’ve done it so many times.”

“well, i’m not so sure anymore after seeing that little worm between your legs, babe, ‘m gonna be honest.” you fake pout at him, holding back a moan when chan delivers a hard thrust inside of you, furiously rubbing your clit, determined to make you cum.

“stop teasing me.”

“or what? you’re gonna break me in half with that teeny tiny thing you call a cock? is it even hard, chan?” you mock him. “i bet it’s so small you can’t even breed me with that useless little cock of yours.”

“you… ohmy- fuck!”

“look at you. getting off to me making fun of your little cock. good boy, desperate to fill mommy’s pussy just like the good boy you are.”

you smirk satisfied as he cums inside of you with a choked moan, emptying himself in your heat, filling you up with his warm cum. he makes you cum with his fingers rubbing your clit faster and faster. then, he collapses on top of yours and doesn’t say a word. you figure it’s time to come clean about your little scheme.

“channie?”

he lets out a hum, but doesn’t lift his head to look at you.

“you know your cock is perfect for me, don’t you?” you kiss the top of his head.

“oh, thank god, i was just about to ask you that,” he sighs out of relief. “i was actually worried, you know? you caught me off guard with… whatever that was. by the way… what was that?”

you shrug. “just wanted to make one of your fantasies come true, i guess.”

his cheeks turn red. “m-my fantasies? what- what are you… huh?” he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

you giggle, then kiss the tip of his nose. “just… next time, close your tabs before you lend your computer to me, or anyone else. and delete your search history while you’re at it.”

⋆｡‧ʚ🍓ɞ‧｡⋆

i’ll go back to working on my essay for uni now. goodbye until may.

-> reblog to support me! feedback is always appreciated and so so cherished 🎀

[neoplatinum]

primadonna girl | cho miyeon

summary: dispatch catching you with korea's femme fatale is NOT on your 2024 bingo card

pairing: idol!miyeon x fem!reader

themes: clubbing in hongdae!, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, hook up buddies, dispatch :(, minor angst, fluff, shuhua! + her doggies

wc: 2.7k

[hongdae, 1am]

you grab your glass half full and down it, leaving the bar. the sting of the hard liquor making you shudder all over. the sea of bodies is making it hard to move around. you weave through the bodies heading for your friend's silhouette across the dark room.

when you feel tugging on your shirt. you turn around to the sight of a gorgeous girl with blood red lipstick and light blonde hair.

she nearly stumbles into you, underestimating her drunk strength.

her face is flushed even in the lowlight of blue and green lasers. her body tilts forward into you as she reaches her hand out.

you shake it, a little confused at the gesture. she's probably drunk out of her mind and mistaken you for someone she knows.

"can i help you?" you ask as you continue to shake her hand. she giggles at the action and covers her laugh with her hand before nodding her head.

"yes, your number?" she tilts her head as she asks the question, you're a little shocked at the boldness. her eyes shine in the light and she giggles a bit before shoving her hand into your jean pocket and grabbing your phone.

she faces the phone in your face before looking for the phone app, adding her contact into your phone. you let her too, mouth agape as you watch her type her contact info into your phone.

"call me?" she says as she tucks the phone back into your pocket. giving you a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the crowd on the dancefloor.

--

you don't call her. you don't see her for weeks actually, not until you're out with your friends in another different club.

you don't spot her, but she spots you. too busy in a trance of people watching the dance floor to notice her.

she walks over, moving past the sea of people and making a beeline straight for you.

"hi, lost my number?" she starts, pulling you towards a more secluded part of the club. less sweaty, you focus on her, she's got the same blood red lipstick on, a dark you barely register what she's saying.

"no, i don't know you, sorry." you say quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. she nods at you.

"that's why i gave you my number, so we could get to know each other."

"oh, sorry, no one has ever done this. i’m just confused with what to do." she nods and brushes all of it away.

"no problem, just call me, okay?" she says, and you agree. feeling inclined to do whatever she says with those gorgeous eyes staring back at you.

"come dance with me." she says and pulls you closer to dance up against her. you get lost in the passion.

--

so, it turns into becoming hook up buddies? friends with benefits, but not friends? sleep partners? it's hard to understand what exactly you two are considering how little you two interact outside of hooking up occasionally.

doesn't help that it’s never at the same place more than twice. sometimes you show up to a studio at 4pm on a tuesday, other times its 2am on a saturday in a club. or sometimes even a bathroom in 9am in some cafe.

it's hard to really understand why you're doing this too, you just feel so inclined to answer every text, no matter what you're doing. each time you leave you feel a little more intrigued by her.

she always manages to send a car for you to get back home though, no matter how far or weird the location is. you think it’s almost like an escort service...but you're not being paid.

it's mind-blowing sex with a gorgeous girl way out of your league, so really you let all precaution leave your body every time she sends a text. lately it's been less frequent, and sometimes you think about reaching out and seeing how she's doing. but you've never initiated anything, it's always her telling you where to go and when to go.

you feel like you don't know your own power in this dynamic. you begin to really miss this girl, even though you don't know her name.

--

your friend, for whatever reason, dropped so much money on her favorite girl group's concert. begging you to join her, even negotiating ticket prices so you'll be more inclined to go. you ask her who the group is, and she says gidol?

you're very unsure of who they are. but she does tell you that they have that famous song called queencard, so you agree to go. now you stand outside jamsil indoor stadium, watching everyone decked out in purple. while you're still trying to figure out who's who in the group.

you never get to figure it out once you're rushed inside by screaming fans behind you. you nearly stumble over yourself, but mostly you make it to your seat without bumps or bruises.

the signature sound of the group's song getting louder makes the stadium erupt in a roar. the stadium turns into a sea of flashing purple with all the lightsticks.

the concert starts and you're watching the concert videos being played. you focus on one girl; she looks so familiar, but the scene ends too quick for you to really figure it out. and after another minute of screaming, the lift brings up five girls. they stand center stage, lights shining on them looking like they own it.

then you see her, the woman that's been leaving you walking weird, and your neck mauled all last month. her blonde hair draping over her body, a tight red and black corset, and heels high enough to break ankles. your blood runs cold.

"who's the girl there?" you shout into your friend’s ear. she's trying to see who you're pointing at.

"which one?" she asks, shouting into your ear over the screams.

"the one in the middle!" you shout back.

"oh! that's miyeon!" she says and returns back to her cheering. miyeon, miyeon, miyeon. you pull out your phone, fingers flying across the screen to search up the name on naver. and there at the very first result is exactly pretty girl from the bar. you probably stared at the photo for a couple minutes, just so your brain can catch up to who're you’re looking at.

you bring up the camera app to snap a photo of her. a weird feeling sitting in your chest. it feels like you have been deceived. she never mentioned her day job, something along the lines of being in the music industry, but she never mentioned being a top idol.

you try to enjoy the rest of the concert, chanting through queencard and super lady, but in your heart, you are thinking about miyeon. what else could she be hiding?

by the end of the concert, you pull out your phone. sending the photo of miyeon that you took earlier.

(me): you never told me you were an idol....

(me): attachment: 1 image

you shove your phone back into your pants. feeling a little frustrated, you two never disclosed much information to each other about your personal lives, but now you can see why. the girl you have been sleeping with is a global superstar, korea's princess. here you are in a taxi trying to get home, with your friend talking your ear off about how amazing the concert was.

it starts to spread, the uncomfortable feeling in your chest. you feel like you exposed yourself for nothing. now you find out cho miyeon, the girl that is such an expert at eating you out, has a whole other part of her life. it explains the random locations you were asked to go to. probably photoshoots, or the times in between her busy schedule. you are just a booty call to her.

when you finally get home, exhausted from all the shouting at the concert and making sure your friend gets home safe. you hear the signature ringtone sound you set for miyeon.

girl from the bar: can we meet up to talk?

you call miyeon.

"hi miyeon, when can you meet?"

"tomorrow afternoon." she says, you can still hear the sound of busy traffic, maybe she's just getting home now.

"yeah, that works. where did you want to meet?"

"you know that park by the han river, the one we ate ramyeon at." you hear movement through the phone, but you agree. it is time to finally settle what you've wanted to say the whole night.

"see you then miyeon."

--

"hi." she stands before you, hoodie over a cap and sunglasses bigger than her face. with a mask tucked over her lower face. you stare at her in confusion. this get up is really different from how you usually see her.

"are you sick?" you ask.

"no, disguise." she offers instead. it makes sense, she is cho miyeon of g-idle. so, you sit down, and she sits by you. both of you staring out into the han river. people are biking and enjoying walks, while you are having a nerve-wracking conversation with miyeon. she fiddles with the sleeves of her hoodie as she waits for you to start.

"would you have told me yourself? about being in gidle?" you start. it is time to rip the band-aid off.

"probably not." she answers honestly. you sigh at that.

"okay. we aren't dating but i still feel like i've been deceived by a partner."

"i'm sorry." she continues. feeling a bit guilty from withholding her identity from you. "you didn't recognize me when we were first talking, so i figured it would be okay if we kept this lowkey."

now you feel both upset and awful, miyeon's probably had to walk on eggshells ever since she's been in the industry. keeping her identity hidden as she enjoys her life. you want to apologize too, for pressing her on this matter.

"i'm sorry too then. must be hard trying to stay out of the public eye when you want to have fun." miyeon agrees, nodding her head at the honest observation. meeting you was good; it was a way to protect her idol image while enjoying herself. you never asked for more, and she never offered more. it was the perfect.

"so, what do you want to do now?" you ask.

"i'm okay with continuing what we have if you are okay with it. you cannot tell anyone you know me though." she says, firm about her identity.

"that's okay with me. i would not sell you out." you offer your hand, and she shakes on it.

--

you are trying to finish up this dinner, stirring the stew in the pot, when you hear your front door open. sight of your friend bursting through the door.

"you whore!" she shouts at you, closing the door behind her as she walks right up to you. shoving her phone in your face. "you're the one dating miyeon?"

"woah, what are you talking about?" panic rising in your body. you take her phone and read the top headline.

DISPATCH: [BREAKING] CHO MIYEON OF (G)I-DLE SEEN WITH GIRLFRIEND

you look below, and photos of you and miyeon (poorly taken), were filling the article. photos of you and miyeon spotted at bars, her photoshoots, late nights outside, even the conversation you had with her by the han river.

"so? you are actually dating her?" your friend accuses you, hands on her hips as she stares at you.

"shit, i need to call miyeon." you hand your friend her phone, before pulling out your own. speed dialing miyeon, it is picked up immediately.

"miyeon."

"i know, i've seen it everywhere." she says, you can hear the sounds of people all around her, swear words being thrown around. you panic while you wait.

"what do we do?"

"nothing to do, we lay low. don't be seen out in public first off. they're going to try and pry into everything in your life." she continues.

"damn it miyeon, i have a life to live, i can't be holed up in my house forever waiting for this to die down." you say back, thinking about work and your life. your friend senses your frustration and stops to sit down.

"i'm sorry, i really am. it's out of my hands right now, the company is deciding what to do next. i'm not even supposed to answer your calls." she explains, and that just makes you feel worse.

feeling like you've been cornered. but then you think, this must be worse for her.

"what about you, do you have to lay low too?" you ask.

"yes, i have to wait until the news cycle shifts to another headline. so, i can't be seen outside or online. it's frustrating but i can handle it, i’m sorry to drag you into this too." she explains, feeling sympathetic for all that has happened.

as much as you want to be upset at miyeon, it's not her fault there’s rabid fans who lack boundaries and are so interested in the private life of idols. you think in a different setting you would have dated miyeon, had there not be paparazzi swarming her for the intimate details of her life.

so, you relent, letting her have her space. the call ended a week ago and you've been cautious being seen outside. putting on a disguise much like the one miyeon wore when she met you.

not seeing miyeon for a week has made you miss her. with both of you forced to lay low in the public's eye, you often chat over the phone. calling or messaging, it's a relief to know that she won't just toss you to the side now that the news is out.

you start to realize that missing miyeon isn't about the mind-blowing sex or the thrill of not knowing where you'll have to meet her. it’s the excitement of being near her, being able to kiss her under the guise of sexual intimacy. the ability to spend the truly little time she has carved out for you.

you feel like a teenager in love, running around at her beck and call because you miss her desperately. late night calls with miyeon feel like they're turning into virtual dates. often eating dinner over the phone together and spilling to each other the details of your life.

--

"hey, visit me. in the dorms." she says one day over call. you stop your reading as you look up at the screen with miyeon's face filling the screen.

"right now?"

"right now." she says with a smile, and you get up, keys in hand and slipping on your slippers. nearly running out the door to find a cab. miyeon texts you her address, and you take off, smiling at the idea of seeing miyeon after not being around her for two weeks.

after paying for the taxi and looking at the building where her dorm is. you tuck your cap a little lower and quicken your steps. eager to be able to see miyeon. you walk up the stairs to the third floor and knock on the door.

the sound of dogs barking through the door. and there is miyeon, behind the door with her dogs rushing up on your legs. jumping for attention. you give them both ear scratches before walking straight for miyeon, kissing her desperately. pushing her against anything that's close enough.

"hi." she pulls you into another kiss, until you hear something.

"oh, hello." you see another woman. your eyes go wide as you step back, face flushed with embarrassment.

"hi, um, nice to meet you." you offer a hand. the girl smiles and shakes it.

"you must be the girl that miyeon's been seeing." she smiles and picks up the two dogs, putting them on the couch.

"yes. i am. you are?" you ask.

"shuhua, nice to meet you." she says as she turns on the tv.

"nice to meet you shuhua." and you get dragged by miyeon to her room, still feeling the embarrassment of being caught by someone.

"i missed you." miyeon says as you both sit side by side in bed.

"me too."

"i've been thinking about us." she starts. "i want us to date, for real."

"yeah, me too. i would really like that."

"great because i already told my company that i’m serious about you." she says and pulls you into a kiss. dragging her hands down your body.

"oh really? i don't get a say?"

"of course you do, i just thought we both liked each other and wanted to be more."

"i'm messing with you, i would love to be with you." she pushes you backwards and you let out a laugh before pulling her towards you again.

"we're together then." she says with finality.

--

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. so i powered through it to finish it. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[readsaboutreid]

Fantasies

this is smutty smutty smut smut so it's 18+, minors please dni

honestly this is just like a fantasy of mine inspired by how wildly hot this entire exchange is what can i say i'm a scifi girlie (gender neutral) and i figured it might make a good fic so here goes nothing

this is part 1 of 2

contains: unprotected sex (creampie), oral (f receiving), munch!spencer, softdom!spencer

“—but the reason the entire ritual was considered taboo wasn’t because Vulcans were supposed to be portrayed as prudish virgins, that’s all I’m saying,” (Y/N) ranted at JJ and Prentiss, gaining amused but shocked and confused stares from the two of them. When they had found out about her relationship with Spencer they might less than shocked but they had never seen her ramble like this in such a Reid-esque fashion.

Penelope Garcia, being ever the one to playfully tease her best friend decided to push the young agent’s buttons a little bit by playfully arguing back, “but then why all the secrecy around the ritual when it comes to other species knowing about it?” Which made (Y/N) roll her eyes in response and groan, and earning her glances from JJ and Prentiss that screamed why would you keep this going for longer?!

"Fucking Christ, Penny, you should know this, ugh—the ritual of Pon Farr is considered taboo because of the depth of emotions experienced by the Vulcans as they enter it, not because it has to do with sexual reproduction; Vulcans have sex outside of Pon Farr and we know this for a fact not only because Trip is literally told outright that Vulcans have sex by a Vulcan when he asked, but also because if Vulcans only ever copulated during Pon Farr, then Vulcan generations would always be seven years apart in age," her exasperation was nearly palpable as she ranted speedily, gaining good spirited laughter from Garcia as she watched her friend rage over something that they all knew in the end was fairly insignificant.

Spencer watched this entire exchange from his desk across the bullpen with a fond smile and a warm, floaty feeling blooming across his chest. That's when Garcia notices him staring from his desk and decides to literally drag him into the discussion, deciding that everyone must join in the procrastination socialization. "What the—hey!" Spencer barely managed to steady himself and keep from falling out of the chair.

"I wanna know what our resident boy wonder has to contribute to the discussion," Penelope laughed in a singsong-y voice as she got him to the table they were all congregating at together and rolled him right up next to the chair on which (Y/N) was perched.

She looked over at him and shot him a small wave and a quiet, "hi, love." And he melted. Instantly.

Her smile was so sweet Spencer could do nothing for s moment but respond with his own toothy, lovestruck grin. He was snapped back to reality by Garcia literally snapping in front of him and chiding (Y/N) as she said, “what have you done to this boy? Are you a freakin’ witch or something?” Spencer and (Y/n) both laughed and Garcia then continued, "so, Reid, do you agree with (Y/N)’s impassioned rant?"

"Oh! Right," Spencer shook his head, "no, she's 100% correct. The ritual of Pon Farr does not solely dictate when Vulcans have sexual relations. It is simply a period of heightened emotions and bonding for them." He looked at (Y/N) with another soft smile, proud that she had such a vast knowledge of Star Trek lore.

"See, Penny? Even the genius agrees with me," (Y/N) teased playfully, earning a chuckle from the team and a light blush from Spencer.

Garcia clapped her hands together excitedly, “Well then let's—”

“—I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a case,” Garcia’s bubbly lilt was cut off by the stern tone of Agent Hotchner as he summoned them to the briefing room. Everyone broke apart at that, following their Unit Chief to the round table. As they all took their seats Spencer made sure to sit by (Y/N) so he could secretly slip her hand into his under the table to cling to some semblance of goodness as they were filled in on the next of the worst of humanity they had to face.

Spencer and (Y/N) laid together in his bed as they always did after particularly rough cases. He ran his finger gently up and down her barely clothed back when she uttered a soft, “hey I have this, like, sort of random question.”

“Oh? What would that be?” Spencer whispered into her hair, half asleep.

“Do you have any, like, fantasies you’d wanna ?” Spencer was confused by her question and the look on his face as she looked up at him told her as much, so she clarified, “like, sexually?"

Well, now he was up. In multiple ways. He reached over and turned on his lamp and stammered out, "uh—w-what—where did that come from?" Spencer's voice rose multiple octaves while his heart skipped a beat.

"Well I just—," she started before cutting herself off and making a face that said she was thinking about how exactly she wanted to explain her thought process. "There's something I've been thinking about for a couple weeks." Her cheeks tinged pink if the soft light of his desk lamp as she shyly looked up at him through her lashes in a way that made his pajama pants start to feel uncomfortably tight.

"Oh? What would that be?" Spencer found himself echoing his first question, unable to focus on anything that wasn't (Y/N) her nipples were peeking through her thin tank top.

"Do you, um, do you remember that conversation about Pon Farr me and Penny were having a little while back?" She whispered, seeming embarrassed to be bringing it up.

"I do," he confirmed, nodding while he finally moved his eyes from her chest to her face, "why do you ask?" He leaned down and began peppering her face with soft kisses, drawing a symphony of giggles from her, before moving from her cheeks down her chin and then to her neck.

Her giggles turned to soft moans and she tried her best to form a response, but as Spencer began sliding his hand up underneath the fabric she found herself struggling to think through the haze. She finally managed to mutter a soft, "I just—mmm—the conversation got me thinking that it might be—fuck, Spencer—to kind of, like, roleplay sometime—holy shit, Spencer, please don’t stop!" His fingers had found their way to her nipples and while she spoke he began gently teasing and tormenting them.

As Spencer continued to explore the sensitive skin of (Y/N)'s chest, she couldn't help but let out another moan, causing Spencer to pause momentarily to look into her eyes. "Roleplay?" Spencer whispered hoarsely, his voice laced with both excitement and curiosity as his fingers continued their dance on her skin. "What did you have in mind?"

(Y/N) bit her lip nervously, her eyes darting around the room as if seeking inspiration. "Well," she began hesitantly, "I was thinking something along the lines of, uh, maybe a kind of Trek-themed scenario? Like, you could be a Vulcan, and I—I could be your mate?" She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched Spencer's expression.

"And what would that involve, exactly?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, his fingers still gently stroking her nipples.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "Well, it might involve—uh, well, you know, some intimate bonding rituals."

Spencer laughed softly, the sound warm and low in the dimly-lit room. "You want me to roleplay as a Vulcan during Pon Farr and have 'intimate bonding rituals' with you?" he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I can't say I've ever really thought about that before, but I'm willing to give it a try." He began trailing kisses from her neck down to her chest while he tugged on the hem of her shirt, pulling it of her when she raised her arms above her head for him.

He started trailing kisses down her stomach, stopping when he reached the waistline of her pajama shorts and looking up at her through his eyelashes. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and panties, and she lifted her hips instinctively so he could slide them down her legs. Spencer moved back up her body to kiss her softly on the lips before getting up off of the bed and standing at the edge, rotating (Y/N) 90° and gently pulling her until she was lined up at the edge of the bed before spreading her legs open and kneeling down in front of her slowly.

(Y/N) shuddered with anticipation at the feeling of his breath gently hitting her dripping center. When she looked down at him he was looking up at her, his amber eyes burning with lust and his pupils blown wide. He licked his lips before leaning in and kissing her burning core softly while running his tongue out to lap up some of the beautiful slickness that had accumulated with a soft moan. He tormented her with light teases from his tongue and her hips bucked up towards his mouth, making him use one of his hands to hold them down and look up at her with a stern expression that told her, 'hold still or I'll stop.'

She whimpered at the loss of his tongue, but it was only for a split second as she felt his index finger push up against her entrance. He teased the entrance by lightly moving up and down it, collecting her honey and bringing it up to his lips and licking it off before bringing his finger back. When he started slowly pushing his finger inside of her, he attached his lips to her clit and did a delightful thing with his tongue that made her nearly see white.

She reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair and gasped out a soft, "Spencer that feels so—oh god—so fucking good!" He slowly pumped his finger in and out of her, savoring the sensation of her soft walls around it. God, how he wanted to be inside of her right now. But there was no way he was going to be able to drag himself away from her pussy, not yet. He needed more. He slipped another finger into her and sucked on her clit, running his tongue around it in circles.

He kept this up and listened to her moans for guidance and encouragement, speeding his fingers up ever so slightly and feeling her body begin to tense up underneath him. Her moans began to increase in volume and frequency, her grip on his hair growing tighter as his fingertips ran across the spongy piece of flesh on the front wall of her pussy, earning a loud and desperate wail from (Y/N) as he felt her orgasm begin to take over her.

He moaned as he lapped up her juices and gave her pussy one last kiss before wiping his mouth and chin with his write and moving back up to kiss you desperately. He settled his clothed hips between her soaked legs and she ground her hips against his erection through his pants. He rocked his hips against her, finding a perfect rhythm. He moaned into her mouth before pulling back and standing up, untying the drawstring on his pants to pull them and his briefs down in one swift movement.

He took his place on top of her again and nestled his cock up against her entrance. She reached down between their bodies and stroked his throbbing member before guiding it to her entrance. He wasted no time, pushing into her immediately and groaning in relief. For a brief second he could only think in images and single word fragments. 'Soft, wet, warm,' swirled around his mind in a whirlwind of lust and pleasure as he sank into her further, burying his cock fully inside of her.

"I, uh, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to, uh, last," Spencer admitted with a small, embarrassed laugh. (Y/N)'s only response was to roll her hips against his, drawing a surprised moan from his throat.

"I honestly don't care," she panted, "I just need you to fuck me." She looked at him with a gaze that drove him absolutely mad with lust. He pulled his hips back and began fucking her with slow but moderately hard thrusts, both of them moaning as they locked their lips together again. She met his thrusts with her own movements and brought her hands back up to tale her fingers in his hair. She tugged at it gently and he moaned and started fucking her faster in response.

"Such a good girl for me, kitten," he purred into her ear. Each moan that fell from her lips pushed him closer and closer to the edge, until he was teetering at the point of no return. "You ready for me to fill you up, baby?" She moaned and nodded in response.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and he felt her pussy begin to flutter around his cock as her second orgasm took her by surprise and ripped through her body. Loud moans spilled from the both of them as Spencer felt himself tip over the edge and stilled with one final thrust inside of her. His cock pulsed as it pumped all of his cum into her.

Once he had pulled out of her he went into the bathroom and cleaned himself off. He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the warm water before walking back out. He knelt in front of (Y/N) and began to gently clean her up. When he was finished he planted a sweet kiss on one of her thighs before tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He crawled back into bed next to her and laid down on his back.

"You're too far away," he pouted at (Y/N) and held his arms out. She moved up and settled happily within them, resting her head on his chest and nuzzling gently. He began playing with her hair and sighed happily before muttering a soft, "I love you, (Y/N)."

"Love you, too, Spence," she mumbled, already half asleep.

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ OH, BABY!

firefighter!percy jackson x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

an firefighter percy as promised!!! this doesn’t focus much on the firefighter aspect but i had to do it im sorry LOL

you nervously paced around the kitchen of your home - the one you shared with percy - as you mentally rehearsed what you were going to tell him once he got home from work

“it’s okay, y/n, you and perce want this,” you told yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. it was true, you and percy did want a baby. you’d discussed it a while ago and decided it was the right time for the two of you, with both your careers finally being stable and all your debts having been paid. still, you anxiously toyed around with the pregnancy test in your hands, the two lines indicating ‘positive’ almost mocking you as you stared down at them

somehow, you’d managed to keep this hidden from percy for a month, which now made you two months pregnant. you weren’t sure how you did it, but you needed some time to absorb the information of the new addition to your lives so you simply hid the pregnancy test and scans and visits to the doctor for as long as you could

part of the reason why you were afraid was percy’s job. he was a firefighter, and while you did admire him for it as he would constantly risk his own life for the sake of others’, you couldn’t help but wish he’d chosen a different career path. you’d already get worried whenever he’d come home and tell you about the near-death experience of the day like it was nothing special, but with a baby on the way, those feelings tripled

however, you knew percy deserved to know. after a week of contemplating and planning, you’d decided to tell him using the classic ‘bun in the oven’ surprise. the warm smell of the bread baking comforted you as you waited for percy’s arrival, but it wasn’t enough to ease your nerves. that was what prompted you to make your mistake of the day: taking a bath

taking a bath wouldn’t have been a problem if you actually remembered to turn the oven off before you left. whilst you poured your scented soaps and bath bombs into the water, choosing a show to watch on your ipad and lighting some candles, your bun in the oven burnt under the scorching heat

percy was excited to see you, his precious wife. sometimes, he couldn’t believe he actually got to call you that. he nearly skipped all the way to your apartment, a goofy grin plastered on his face as he pulled his keys out of his back pocket and— what was that smell?

being a firefighter, this was a scent that percy knew all too well. suddenly, he was alert, his mind already conjuring up the worst scenarios it could as he frantically turned the keys to your apartment - first the wrong way, causing him to curse under his breath, then the right

he almost kicked the door down as he entered, scanning the space for any sign of you, any sign that you were safe and unharmed

“babe? y/n, where are you?” he yelled, running around the apartment as he tried to find the source of the fire. his shoes left dirty footprints all over the floor, footprints you’d definitely scold him for later, but he’d go through a million lectures from you if he had to. as long as you were alive and safe, percy would be fine

meanwhile, you had gotten out of the shower, your mood improving tremendously, when you’d finally heard percy’s shouts over the music playing from your phone. your brows furrowed in confusion and you put the pregnancy test into the pocket of your robe, making your way over to where he was

when percy saw you, tears sprung to his eyes and he lifted you up, causing you to squeal as he twirled you around before giving you a rib-crushing hug. when you pulled away, you frowned at the evident distress on your husband’s face - what was up with him?

“is everything okay, perce?” you asked, tenderly taking his hands into yours and giving them a right squeeze. percy nodded, but to you, he was an open book. there was definitely something wrong

just as you were about to ask if he was sure, percy said, “everything’s okay, i just smelt something burning and, y’know, with my job, your mind can’t help but wander…” you took a whiff of the air and smelt it too. biting your lip, you followed the scent to the kitchen as you wracked your brain for an answer as to why it was even there

you got to the oven. the oven with the hard, black bun in it

“oh my god, no!” you mumbled, hurriedly getting some oven mitts and grabbing the bun out of the oven, immediately dropping it onto the countertop. as you did this, something happened to fall out of your robe pocket

percy picked it up, about to hand it to you when he noticed what it was. a pregnancy test. more importantly, a positive pregnancy test

his voice trembling as he held back tears for the second time that evening, percy asked, “y/n, what is this?” you looked up and your eyes widened as you patted down your robe, realising the test had fallen out

“y/n,” percy began, pulling you closer to him. with your lips a centimeter apart, he continued, “is this real? are you…? are we…?” you couldn’t find the words to answer his question, so you simply nodded. immediately, percy closed to distance between you, and as the taste of his salty tears mixed with your minty toothpaste, you felt your worries get washed away

percy would be a great father, regardless of what job he had. under the soft kitchen lights, mr and mrs jackson became sure of one thing: that he would come home to you and your baby, no matter what life could possibly throw at him

[gabessquishytum]

The first time Hob Gadling smells Morpheus Endless, he (Hob) had just shot someone in the face.

Hob tries very hard to be invisible. His job is to do various "tasks" for the Endless Organization. He is to be discreet and effective. And under no circumstances are his activities to point back to the Endless family and their (legitimate) dealings.

This is easy enough as an omega -- even in this current age, people still don't think omegas are "violent" or engage in acts that aren't fluffy and sweet. It's almost insultingly easy to be on the "wrong" side of trouble as an omega.

Hob is not the demure sort of omega. He'd just as soon punch an alpha in the face as purr for one. (When he must interact with alphas "like that," heats and such, Hob is fond of tying them down and riding them to his satisfaction.)

Morpheus Endless doesn't smell forgettable, like the rest of his family. He smells like Hob's favorite things, like home. Hob is going to make Morpheus his, and no one (even Morpheus himself) better get in his way.

Oh god, I LOVE a dominant omega.

Morpheus doesn't have much to do with his family's criminal enterprise - in the dynamic of the family, its his job to appear to the public as a perfectly legitimate philanthropist with an interest in art. But that doesn't mean he's not aware of how the money is really made. And it doesn't mean that he's not a target for rival organisations.

He'd found himself damn close to being kidnapped by some of Burgess's goons when Hob seemed to melt out of nowhere and silently, quickly and expertly shot the kidnappers dead. Then he quickly cut the zip-ties from Morpheus’s wrists and grinned. Morpheus - who would never usually even bother to speak to one of his family's "employees" - nearly melts into the floor with overwhelming lust for this dangerous, smiling omega.

Hob takes Morpheus to the nearest building owned by the Endless organisation and insists on checking him over for injuries. He practically straddles Morpheus while feeling his wrists for any damage, checking him for concussion, even scenting him to make sure that he's "calm enough". Morpheus is far from calm, actually. When he puts his hands on Hob’s waist his feels the holster that's strapped under his clothes and very much bulging with various firearms. Hob smells so dangerous and so good and all Morpheus can think about is fucking him...

But Hob makes it quite clear that he's not interested in a one night stand. Nor is he interested in parting as friends. He fully intends to make Morpheus his mate, whatever the consequences may be. Hob is very much used to getting what he wants, and he doesn't intend to give up. If he has to he'll tie Morpheus up and really kidnap him, take him away from his family and give him a mating bite so it's too late for anyone to object. He'll make sure that Morpheus puts a baby in him, if that's what it takes.

And Morpheus really doesn't need this kind of persuasion, but fuck if it doesn't turn him on. The idea of being taken by his omega is so arousing, he nearly cums right there with Hob just sitting in his lap.

Hob won't be purring any time soon, but he will certainly manage a contented hum a few months down the line when he's introduced to the rest of the Endless family as Morpheus’s mate. It's far too late for them to get rid of him, when he's already carrying a little Endless heir inside him. But he packed his favourite firearms, just in case. It does make Morpheus so horny when he sees his precious little omega holding a gun to somebody's head...

[wintertime-in-june]

A Marriage of Convenience

Colonel!König x Vulnerable!Reader

You sobbed, hot and heavy as tears streaked down your face. You looked at the email through bleary eyes one last time before swallowing the lump in your throat and letting out further cries.

Your visa had come to an end and your citizenship status was declined. You had to go back to your home country, back home, away from KorTac, off the Austrian base.

As König walked past the door to the empty teaching room in which you resided he heard it. The high pitched, sniffles and cries. No man on his base could make these delicate, heart wrenching noises, no, he knew it was you. His perfect little recruit, his good girl, y/n.

He stopped at the door to the room, ready to enter but wanting to do so carefully. Now was his chance, you were crying, upset and oh so vulnerable... in need of a big hero to swoop in and save the day. Now, he just had to find out what you needed and he could make all the pain go away...

He pushed the door open tentatively, trying his best not to nearly rip it from its hinges like he usually did. He scanned the room looking for his little girl and there you were curled up at the back, knees tucked against your chest, with your back against a cupboard. He couldn't help but smile at your small, helpless form. Quickly catching himself his face fell, back to its neutral, stoic stare as he shut the door behind him with a click.

You heard the door close and looked up to see the hulking man that was your Colonel walking towards you. Big, heavy combat boots trudging on the ground.

Your mouth fell into an 'o' as you attempted to wipe your tears away, shaky breaths and sniffles, trying to placate your crying.

The Colonel stood before you, looking down before he himself got down in a squat and eventually sat himself in front of you, arms resting on his knees.

"I'm s-sorry Colonel." You manage to stutter out, the tears having ceased but your choked up demeanour remaining.

He gave you a sympathetic smile, it was no secret he had a soft spot for you, although, no-one but him truly knew how deep it goes.

You gave him a small smile back, attempting to put on a brave face. 'Cute' he thought to himself as he tilted his head to the side.

"What's up kleine Maus?"

'Little Mouse', that was his nickname for you. You smiled a little at the use of the name, tears still brimming your shining eyes.

"I- I got an email," you managed to stutter out before the tears ensued once more, "they're sending me back Colonel, I don't know what to do."

You buried your face in your knees once more, breath shaking as you attempted to get some air in your lungs.

You unlocked your phone and passed it to König, letting him read the email.

"I don't want to go back." You said, barely above a whisper as you let out a shaky breath.

"I like it here," you continued, "I don't want to go back home, my parents... they're not nice... and here I get food and, and I have a bed."

You sob a little as you think back to your old life. Although the military was tough, for you it was an improvement, and you weren't ready to give all of this up.

König read the mail before placing the phone down. His eyes narrowed as you said why you didn't want to go back home. It upset him... no, it angered him that your home life could be worse than this. The one place you were supposed to have guaranteed safety and support and you did not.

"What am I going to do?" You said, choked up, lifting your head from your knees to look at the man that loomed in front of you.

"How could you stay?" König asked, already theorising how he was going to fight off anyone who would even attempt at taking you away.

"I would have needed approved citizenship, m- my visa ran out of time." You said, attempting to blink away tears but feeling yourself getting choked up again.

"But my citizenship was declined." You cried burying your head in your knees once more.

König let out a low sigh as he shuffled forward to sit next to you. When his back hit the cupboard that your own one rested on, it shook under the sheer force of him propping himself against it.

He snaked an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to lean on him. He rubbed the side of your arm soothingly, an expression of distain for the predicament resting on his features.

"O-or I'd have to marry a citizen, but that's not going to happen." You let out a shaky breath, almost like a laugh, as though even the notion was ridiculous.

König's eyes shot open, as if he was having a Eureka moment to say the least. His soothing rubs on the side of your arm stopping momentarily. "A-and why's that not going to happen?" He spoke perhaps too quickly, too eagerly.

You look up at him with a confused expression as if it were obvious.

"I don't have any boyfriend, let alone an Austrian one who would want to marry me in the next," you think for a moment, "...six days."

There is a beat of silence as König collects himself, tries to remain calm and chill.

"I'll marry you."

The air is thick with tension as he awaits your response. You can't believe what you're hearing.

"Really? You'd marry me?" You say softly, looking up at König with awe in your eyes. As if he'd saved you, as if he were your hero.

"But what about you? What if you want to get married for real someday, is there someone you like?" You ask, you couldn't believe he would do this for you.

He lets out a low chuckle, you don't even know the half of it. He wanted you, this was his dream, he could practically not contain the ecstatic happiness he was experiencing at your issue. He knew it was wrong. He knew he was a bad, bad man for enjoying this, but his heart was beating faster, he was holding back a smile and he couldn't help but seize this opportunity.

Before meeting you he thought he would die alone, but not from rejection, no, truth be told he has never been interested in a person enough to pursue them romantically, that was until you stepped into his office...

Perfect, cute, y/n, with an adorable little smile and oh... code violating underwear. That's how the two of you first met. On your first week, sent to the office by the Lieutenant for your dress code violations.

From that point forward he was obsessed, unbeknownst to you. You just thought he let you get away with more, being a girl and all. He was nicer, kinder, sweeter to you. Trying your baking, letting you sit with him at lunch, helping you over the walls in training. A caring Colonel.

"Come here." He said lifting you up and placing you in his lap.

You allowed him to do so, smiling a little, was he really going to fix your predicament?

He wrapped his large arms around you, thick muscles keeping you safe. You leaned into him hugging him back.

"I'm going to marry you, no-one is taking you away."

You couldn't help but smile more as you hugged him tightly. Your heart beating a little quicker.

"Thank you Colonel, thank you." You whispered.

He let out another chuckle.

"You know, you don't always have to call me Colonel, maus." He teased a little.

"What should i call you sir?"

"Mein Ehemann." he stated, petting your hair as you leant against his chest.

"Mein Ehrmann," you repeated, he smiled at this, "what does it mean?"

"Your husband."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, maybe this marriage would be for more than just convenience...

[envysparkler]

Of all the people Bruce expects to see on his doorstep on a Sunday morning, Talia al Ghul is very, very low on the list.  Frankly, he’s surprised she bothered to knock.

“Oh,” Talia says, lips pursing in disappointment as he looms in the doorway, “it’s you.”  She rocks on her heels, like she’s attempting to peer around him.

“This is my house,” Bruce says, half-offended and half-bewildered.  She’s not alone, there’s a child scowling up at him—they’re making League assassins smaller and smaller these days—but Bruce ignores him and focuses on the greater threat.  “I’ve already told Ra’s al Ghul that Gotham is off-limits—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t about him,” Talia waves him off and saunters forward, stepping over the threshold and into the house like it belongs to her.  The child follows her, only pausing to sneer at Bruce, and Bruce is left standing on his porch, thoroughly dismissed.

Talia always did have a way of getting what she wanted, and damn anything in her way.  It takes a moment for Bruce to shake the old, lingering fondness and remember that a deadly assassin is inside his house.

Alfred is going to kill him.

“Wait!  Talia!”  He catches up to her near the kitchen, where she is surveying the cereal boxes on the counter with palpable distaste.  The child looks like he’s trying to test them for poison, or possibly poison them himself, but Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about that, because she’s found—

“Uh, Bruce?” Tim’s voice cracks high, out of his chair and holding both his cereal bowl and his spoon ready to throw.  “Did you forget to tell me you had company?”

“Timothy Drake,” Talia says, cold enough to create icicles.  She studies him for a long moment, skipping from his Superboy pajamas to his bleary face to the overfull mug of coffee on the table.  “You are one of Lady Shiva’s.”

The child’s scowl deepens.

“Yes?” Tim looks at Bruce desperately, like it’s a test and he’s looking for the answer.  Bruce shrugs.

“She mentioned you were passable,” Talia sniffs.  “For a boy.”

Tim looks a mixture of outraged and pleased, but Bruce is more concerned with why Talia is here, standing in his home years after she gave back his mother’s ring.  Talia only reveals whatever she wants to reveal, and while she does only ever tells the truth, she lets him draw incorrect conclusions from those truths all on his own.  It means Ra’s isn’t involved in whatever brought her here, but that could mean anything from the old schemer being dead to Talia being on the run, and Bruce is not nearly awake for an imminent League invasion.

“Where’s Alfred?” Talia finally finishes her survey of the kitchen and rests her cool gaze on him.

That would be the reason Bruce is barely awake.  He only managed to drag himself from bed with the reminder that there was an unsupervised teenager in his house.  Unfortunately, he’d got there too late to save the coffeemaker.

“What do you want with Alfred?” Tim asks, on the verge of hostile.  The child draws himself up like a hissing, spitting snake, and only stays still by virtue of Talia’s hand on his shoulder.  Talia, for her part, merely looks inconvenienced.

“Well, this would’ve been several times simpler had he been here,” she sighs.  “I could’ve dropped off Damian for a spot of tea and gotten on with my business.”

“And what is your business?” Bruce presses.

Talia heaves another sigh—this time dramatic and put upon.  It’s an act, Bruce can tell, but that doesn’t help him, not when Talia turns to him and widens her eyes, looking up through her lashes.  “Unfortunately, Beloved, your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills, and I’ve finally managed to track him down here, so I really must get going before he infiltrates that sorry excuse of a prison and finishes decapitating that clown you keep alive for some unfathomable reason.”

There’s a lot packed into that statement, and Bruce is still untangling ‘your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills’ with the knowledge that Nightwing is supposed to be safely inside Bludhaven and the growing horror that Dick might’ve accidentally started a war with the League of Assassins, so it’s Tim that inhales first, staring at the child in sharp shock and then up at Talia, before finally turning towards Bruce.

“You have a kid with Talia al Ghul?!”

~#~

Talia, of course, does not bother to explain anything.  She merely instructs the child—Damian—to behave before vanishing back out the front door, and Bruce’s attempt to follow her is met with a katana and a high-pitched demand for a duel.  It becomes apparent that Talia’s version of behaving doesn’t match Bruce’s, because it takes several minutes and one shallowly bleeding slice before Bruce can extricate himself.

The child—his child—Damian leaves him alone then, looking disappointed in his swordsmanship skills, and turns instead to badgering Tim, who despite favoring a bo staff—“a clearly inferior weapon unsuited to anything but sloppy pulverization,” comes out crisp and clear-edged, much like Bruce himself when he was younger and his only point of reference was Alfred—is judged a suitable opponent on the basis of Lady Shiva’s reference.

Bruce is maybe a little sulky that a child—his child—has dismissed him in favor of a teenager with a pillow crease on his cheek, but he suppresses the emotion to dart to the Batcomputer so he can ask Nightwing what the hell he’s been up to.

Unfortunately, Dick’s response is both confused and irritated, which means Bruce has to waste time explaining the situation lest his eldest give him the silent treatment again, and Dick signs off with a promise to drop by, clearly excited at the prospect of a new sibling.

Bruce doesn’t warn him that this one is more apt to stab him than hug him.  Dick can figure that out for himself.

But with that distraction out of the way, he’s left to ruminate on Talia’s words.  She wasn’t talking about Dick, and clearly not about Tim, and not Damian, and Bruce has no other sons.  The thought drives a pang through him, a loss he will always carry, and he finds himself in front of the case with Jason’s uniform, as though it can help him solve the puzzle.

Is there another child out there he doesn’t know about?  He’d swear that he doesn’t have another with Talia, but he has no idea when or how Damian was conceived, so it’s the most likely explanation. 

[callsign-rogueone]

thank you - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x reader Garrick shows you how grateful he is that you saved his life, and how much he missed you while you were apart. Or, what caused all those sunflowers to sprout in the hallway. part of Garrick and Angel’s story (fits into what was I made for?) words: 4.0k 🏷 NSFW. set during IF, but no spoilers in this one. this is 4k of straight up sex. afab reader who is referred to as a girl a few times (I cannot write smut without at least one "attagirl" in there, I'm sorry) makeout, groping, fingering, unprotected piv (don’t do that), a lot of swearing from Garrick lmao, fluffy lovey future talk, several I-love-you’s and a casual marriage proposal in there somewhere, aftercare and cuddles 🥰 still working on my smut skills, so pls be gentle with me hsfdj

As soon as the door closes, Garrick’s hands are all over you; pulling you close and kneading the plush of your hips, smoothing over your sides. He’s just groping you, for lack of a better word, but it feels good and you don’t want him to stop. 

“Gare, what are you— oh,” you breathe, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his lips trailing over your jaw.

“M’ reminding you,” he says, placing a kiss behind your ear, “that I am very much alive,” another kiss to your neck, “and showing you how thankful I am that you saved my life. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage, already out of breath. “That's okay.”

“Good. Now just relax for me, angel. Let me do the work, hm?”

You stutter out an uh-huh, already feeling yourself start to slip into that familiar soft and fuzzy headspace, ready to be taken care of.

He settles into your desk chair like he owns the place, parting his legs and tapping the space between them. “Foot up.”

You rest your boot on the edge of the seat, letting him pull at the laces and slide the shoe off, dropping it onto the floor with a soft thud. You start to move your leg down, but strong hands close around your calf, his fingertips pressing into the tight muscle through the fabric of your pants, silently working out the knots. You sigh softly, feeling the tension slip away. 

He taps the back of your leg twice, and you switch, setting your other boot on the seat. He takes his time with the laces, loosening each row carefully before removing it, continuing to massage away the soreness from the morning’s workout.

Another two taps, and you lower your socked foot to the floor. 

He guides you forward with a strong hand on each of your hips, until you’re standing directly in front of him. 

You’re mesmerized by the soft look on his face as he slowly starts to remove your arsenal, setting the few small blades behind him on your desk in a neat row — Failsafe last, and the most gently. You didn’t realize he knew where they all were, but then again, he knows everything about you.

He starts to peel away your uniform, slipping off your flight jacket, which now bears the proper Lieutenant’s insignia to match his, dropping it next to your boots.

You’re hit with a wave of self-consciousness as he helps you out of your shirt. The last time he undressed you like this, you were in his room at Basgiath, nearly five months ago, and in that time you’ve no longer been forced to overexert yourself every day, no longer in a constant state of fight-or-flight… you don’t look exactly how you used to.

Your worries face quickly, brushed away by his soft words and the gentle brush of his hands over your skin.

“Missed this perfect body so much,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his hands settling on your waist. “So soft, so nice to hold, to kiss…” 

He unbuttons your pants with ease, guiding them down your legs and smoothing his hands over your hips, letting you step out the rest of the way and kick them aside along with your socks. He presses a few soft kisses to your tummy before he pulls back. 

“C’mere,” he coaxes, patting his thigh.

You climb into his lap without hesitation, the chair creaking under your combined weight, but that’s the least of your worries — he’s still wearing far too much clothing.

He’d said that he wanted to do all the work, but he doesn’t protest as you tug at his shirt, untucking it from his pants; he just gives you that smug grin you adore, slipping it over his head easily and tossing it aside.

You will never tire of the sight of him shirtless, all that thick muscle on full display, his relic contrasting with his pale skin so beautifully, curling up his arm and onto his shoulder… 

He has a few new scars on his sides, ones you know weren’t there before you were sent to Resson — a long, shallow slice on his left and what you really hope wasn’t a stab wound on the right. Both are fully healed, and likely too old for you to do anything about them, but you still reach out to trace them with gentle fingertips; a soft, loving touch, an acknowledgment of his pain and a silent apology that you weren’t there to heal them for him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he begins quietly, anticipating the soft lecture you always give him whenever he comes home injured.

You lean forward to give him a soft kiss. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

You rub your hands over his sides for a moment, admiring the planes of muscle, the definition and strength under your palms. You dip your fingertips into his waistband, intending to undress him further, but he stops you, a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist.

“This is supposed to be about you,” he says playfully, nudging your nose with his. 

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me love you.”

“Always.”

You sigh happily as his lips connect to yours again, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. You’d missed being this close to him, missed the hours you would spend just like this, sitting in his lap, giving each other lazy kisses.

His fingers hook into the leather cord around your neck, tugging on it gently, and you move back to let him pull it up over your head. He holds it carefully, setting it on the desk with your knives.

In the few days that you’ve had it back, you’ve gotten used to the weight of the runestone hanging there, and you feel a little anxious in its absence despite it being only a few feet away. You touch your fingertips to your chest subconsciously, feeling only warm skin and the beat of your heart.

He realizes what’s wrong, reaching behind him to take it off the desk and put it back where it belongs, but you shake your head no, putting your hand down.

“I’m okay,” you reassure. “Just feels a little weird being without it.” 

You know he understands — he was the one who had the idea to make it into a necklace for you after you’d refused to put it down for days, nearly spraining your hand from constantly gripping it so tightly. He’d been enraged when he realized Varrish had taken it from you. 

“Just let me know if you want it back, okay?”

You nod, your noses brushing with the movement. “Okay.”

“Attagirl.”

His hands settle back on your hips, his head dipping down to kiss over your heart where the cold stone would normally rest, just above the tight binding you wear every day. He hooks his fingers into the hem, pulling it down slowly until your breasts spill out over it. 

“Missed this,” he murmurs, sliding his hands up your ribs to knead at your chest. “So soft, so nice to play with…”

Your breath catches as he starts to rub his thumbs over your nipples, soft brushes back and forth that send a pleasant, tingly feeling through you. 

“Sit up a little for me?”

You straighten up quickly, adjusting your position in his lap with a few more concerning creaks from the chair that you choose to ignore.

He leans down, flicking the tip of his tongue over your nipple, and you clap a hand to your mouth, trying to keep quiet — your friends are in their rooms across the hall, and you’d be mortified if they heard you.

He pulls back, brushing his hands over your ribs soothingly. “I put up a sound shield, angel. You can just let it out. Wanna hear all those pretty noises you make.”

With that, he leans in again, licking at you the same way he does when he goes down on you, alternating between soft laps of his tongue and sucking gently, right where you’re most sensitive.

You whine softly, rocking your hips against his in search of friction.

He hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t stop, just switches sides, continuing to suck and lick and squeeze, keeping one hand on your back to hold you steady while you squirm in his lap.

If patience is a virtue, then Garrick Tavis should be sanctified for all eternity.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this needy in your life, this desperate for something, anything, to lessen the ache between your thighs. You know that he needs this as badly as you do, you can feel how hard he is through the thick fabric of his uniform, throbbing underneath you, but he isn’t going to let up any time soon -- you haven’t had the chance to do anything like this for months, being clear across the country from each other; he’s going to take his sweet time with you.

You’re about to ask if you can speed this up a little when he finally pulls back, kissing his way back up your chest before he stands up, walking you toward the bed. You squeak, clinging to him tightly, but he keeps you in place, strong arms hooked under your legs as he crosses the room.

“I’d never drop you, angel,” he murmurs, laying you back against the pillows and sitting by your side. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whisper, gazing up at him.

“Good,” he says softly, giving you a sweet, chaste kiss. “Comfy?”

You hum in affirmation.

He rests a hand on your thigh, and you part your legs on instinct, knowing where this is headed. He gives you a smug smile. “Eager, are we?”

Your cheeks warm in embarrassment, but you don’t deny it — you’re very eager for him to touch you where you need it most.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, slipping his hand beneath the hem of your underwear and starting to circle your clit with gentle fingertips.

You sigh softly, settling a little deeper into the cushions and letting your eyes fall shut. 

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and you don’t doubt that — you’ve never felt more overwhelmed with love for Garrick in your life than you did today — but it also makes every touch, every kiss, that much more intense. You haven’t felt this good since the last time you were with him like this, in his room at Basgiath, but this is even better. 

There’s something about his touch that feels so much better than your own, no matter how many times you’d tried to recreate it yourself while he was away.

Maybe it’s the feeling of his fingertips, the skin a little rougher than yours from all his extra training, or the thickness and length of his fingers, filling you so nicely and reaching that special little spot so easily, pressing up against it and sending gentle waves of pure pleasure through your body. Or maybe it’s the tenderness with which he holds you, the gentle hand cradling your cheek and the taste of his lips as he kisses you slow and sweet, or the warmth of his body against yours, all that soft muscle to rest on, and the smell of his cologne…

Whatever it is, there’s no comparing it to just your hand and your imagination — you had stopped trying entirely after two very disappointing attempts, unable to get yourself there on your own no matter how long you tried. But now, after less than two minutes, you can feel your muscles tightening, feel that pressure building between your hips, your heart racing… 

You’re nearly there, and Garrick knows it. He reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers to ground you, and resting his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, angel. I’ve got you.”

You make an effort to deepen your breaths, shutting your eyes and focusing on Garrick; the feeling of his hand holding yours, the softness of his touch and the warm glow of his presence beside you.

You gasp, a rush of energy flowing through you a split second before you tighten around his fingers, crying out his name.

He feels it too, hears the soft rustle of leaves around you as all of the small potted plants you’d taken inside to save from the winter cold start to grow, leafing and blooming across every available surface.

He looks over his shoulder, amused. “That’s new.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, your heart still racing as you come down from your first orgasm in four months. “Sorry,” you stammer reflexively, stunned. “I had no idea that would happen.”

“Don’t apologize, angel. It’s cute. And I like seeing you feel good. Like hearing it, too.” He strokes his hand over the curve of your hip soothingly. 

“Anything hurting?” he asks, gentle concern in his eyes. Since you told him about the pain your signet had caused you, he’s been checking in with you multiple times a day, especially after any form of physical exertion.

You shake your head no. “Never better,” you say with a lazy smile, still catching your breath. 

You fight the sleepy feeling that’s already settling into your bones- it’s been a long day, and he’s succeeded in wringing all the tension from your body, but you still want to please him, dote on him the way he did for you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been able to please him, after all your time apart and how tired you’d been your entire third year with all those long shifts at the infirmary. Getting on your knees for him is the least you can do after that earth-shattering orgasm he gave you, and he’s always so gentle with you when you do, holding your hair back and praising you all the while… the thought has you pressing your thighs together with need.

You sit up, reaching for the waistband of his pants, but he takes your hand in his, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “If you’re up for it, I’d really like to make love to you right now instead.”

You flush at the words, nodding your permission a little too eagerly, and he laughs, giving you another soft kiss before he pulls back to take off the rest of his clothes.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, you still can’t help but stare. All the hours he spends in the gym with the boys and all those crack-of-dawn leadership runs have seriously paid off — his entire body is coated with plush muscle, and it’s undeniably attractive. 

You take the opportunity to pull off your underwear, tossing them to the floor before he climbs back up, settling between your legs. His body covers yours completely, broad shoulders taking up most of your vision, but you don’t feel caged in or trapped; you feel safe, protected, loved.

“Hi,” you whisper, blinking up at him.

He smiles, your nose brushing his as he leans down to give you a soft kiss. “Hi, my love.”

He braces himself on a strong forearm by your head, one hand smoothing over your thigh and hooking under your knee to raise your leg over his hip. 

You can feel how close he is to you, the slick glide of his cock through your wetness, stroking up and down and sliding over your clit.

“Please, Gare,�� you whimper, shifting your hips in an effort to get him to stop teasing. “Need you.”

“You have me,” he replies, resting his forehead against yours. “You’ll always have me.”

Your breath hitches at the feeling of your bodies finally connecting. He’s worked you up so well that he could just sink right in, but he still takes it slowly, inching deeper and deeper until every little bit of space you have to offer is taken up. You fit together perfectly, like you were made for one another.

“I mean it, angel. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to give you the life you deserve,” he continues. “You do so much for everyone. I just want to take care of you, take that weight off your shoulders and give you a place to rest, protect you from all the hurt in the world, keep you safe and warm, show you how much I love you… That’s all I’ve wanted for years.” 

He draws back ever so slightly, moving forward, and your jaw drops in a soft gasp. You can feel his heart beating against yours, feel just how genuine every word is. It’s almost overwhelming, feeling the whole room teeming with life and love, that warm energy that’s enveloped the both of you.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you whisper, as if you’re afraid that saying it aloud will make it come true. “When I saw you like that… it felt like the world stopped turning. I don’t know if I could live without you.”

“You’ll never have to,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be with you for the rest of our days. It doesn’t matter where we are — here, or that godsforsaken school, or anywhere on the continent; you’re home to me. You’re my safe place, where I can let my guard down and relax, where I can feel what I need to feel.”

You reach up to hold his jaw, guiding him down into a kiss; wet and messy, broken up by your soft gasps, but loving, grounding.

He’s starting to slip, to lose his composure — he needed this just as badly as you did, and it feels like heaven for both of you. “Gods, angel, you feel so good,” he pants, picking up the pace. “Needed this so badly, missed this so much…”

You’ve very rarely seen Garrick out of breath; not during his workouts, nor flight training or anything else — only when he’s so deep inside you like this, chasing the release you both need so desperately. 

He reaches down to stroke your clit, gentle little circles that make the pressure build faster, intensifying everything.

“Gare,” you whimper in response, not presently capable of saying much else — not when your mind is this hazed with pleasure and all the sweet words he’s whispering to you, all the promises he’s making.

“I know, angel, I know,” he pants. He does know, knows that those soft little pleas and the way you’re tightening your grip on him means you’re right there, that if he keeps doing what he’s doing, it’ll make you cum again, and that’s exactly what he plans to do.

There’s nothing he loves more than watching you like this, so close to the edge, all soft and wet and brainless under him, looking up at him so fucking prettily, pure adoration in your eyes; completely at his mercy, but trusting that he’ll take care of you, that he’ll be gentle and loving— and he always is. 

That’s why you chose him.

“I love you,” you pant, finally forming words. 

“I love you too, angel. I love you so much,” he breathes.

You hear it again, those rustling leaves and blooming flowers, but this time there’s the sound of breaking pottery and falling books along with it.

Neither of you let that distract you, your eyes still locked on each other’s, hands still clasped together tightly as he continues to rock his hips against yours, continues those soft little circles on your clit until you shatter, your eyes rolling back and sweet little whimpers pouring from your lips.

Cumming on his fingers was nice, but this is so much better -- feeling so whole, your heart and your lungs and the deepest parts of you filled with Garrick’s presence, feeling him pressed against you after so many nights apart…

It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. You hold him impossibly closer, your fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders and your legs wrapping around his hips, wanting him to stay like this, nice and deep, rocking into you so deliciously, his entire body pressed up against yours.

You can tell he’s right there with you -- his grip on your waist has tightened, his rhythm faltering and his breaths shaking. 

“That’s it, angel, just like that,” he rasps. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this, taking me so well… missed you so much, my perfect girl, my soulmate… I can’t wait to marry you, to call you my wife, settle down with you… oh, fuck,”

You tangle a hand into the dark curls at the back of his neck and yank him down for a kiss.

He struggles to kiss back, gasping and panting against your lips as he nears the edge. It doesn’t take long before he stiffens, his eyes rolling back with a gorgeous little moan as he spills into you.

With a few slow rocks of his hips to ride it out, he collapses onto the mattress beside you, winded. “Gods,” he pants, his arms shaking from the prolonged effort of holding himself up. “that was…”

You laugh, tilting your head up to give him a soft kiss. “Yeah. It was.”

He slips an arm underneath your back and rolls you both over so you’re laying on his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rest your knees on either side of his hips, keeping him tucked inside your warmth a little while longer.

You can feel your combined sweat and arousal dripping down your thighs, but you don't have it in you to care about that right now — he’s tired you out, but not in the way that the school had; no, he’s relaxed you so deeply that it’s bordering on hypnosis. A soft, fuzzy kind of tired, sweet and sleepy and safe. You focus on the warmth of his body and the slowing rise and fall of his chest underneath you, trying to match your breathing to his, to synchronize your heartbeats.

He strokes a hand over your back, from your shoulders to the base of your spine, up and down, up and down.  “You okay, angel?” he asks softly, sounding a little worried.

You nod your head yes against his shoulder, cuddling into him further and closing your eyes. “M’ perfect.”

He laughs softly. “Damn right you are.”

Your cheeks warm at the praise, as if he hadn’t spent the last hour telling you just that.

“We made a bit of a mess, huh?”

You turn your head to see the state of your floor and the desk — overgrown with tangled vines and flowers, many of the clay pots having shattered from the rapid growth of the roots inside. The wall to your left is covered in ivy, wrapping over your bookshelf, many of the volumes having been knocked to the floor. 

A physical testament to your love, of the growth and life you’re capable of when you have each other -- and a giant mess that you are absolutely not going to deal with tonight.

“I’ll clean it up in the morning,” you mumble, your cheek still pressed into his shoulder. “jus’ wanna be with you right now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“Gare?” you ask quietly.

“Yes, my angel?” he answers, fighting a yawn.

“I want all of that, too,” you say softly. “The settling-down stuff.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you answer, closing your eyes and picturing it. “A house of our own, with a giant garden where I can grow every kind of flower on the continent. And an apple tree, so I can make pie every year for your birthday.”

“Two kids,” he adds sleepily. “A boy and a girl. And a couple of dragons.”

“Someday,” you sigh. “But until then, I’m happy staying right here.” You nuzzle your cheek against his chest, over his heart. 

“Someday,” he murmurs in agreement.

You both hope that day can come soon.

[oneawkwardwriter]

So High School

pairing: James Potter x fem!reader warnings/tags: none except some teeth rotting fluff, possibly inaccurate Quidditch team (I didn't know everyone's positions), allusions to suggestive content?, no use of Y/n summary: just James being an absolutely amazing boyfriend totally not self-insert what- a/n: and thus begins the saga of me taking Taylor Swift songs and turning them into stories about fictional characters. Don't even act like you're surprised, you shouldn't be by now <3 Also, I've been wanting to write for James but couldn't get it right, so a little thank you to Miss Taylor for making this possible wc: 0.8k

"And another goal made by Gryffindor chaser James Potter!" Remus shouts into the microphone while he reacts to the latest Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. "That is three in a row for Gryffindor. Sorry, Ravenclaw, it seems like you'll have no chance of winning today, better forfeit already-"

He is cut off by Professor McGonagall taking the mic out of his hands, "Don't get forget to stay objective, Mr. Lupin," She says, just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up, but the crowd is too busy cheering to hear it.

James does a victory lap on his broom, flying close to the crowd. When he comes close to your section, he sends a quick wink in your direction. You lightly chuckle and roll your eyes when a couple of first years nearly faint from being so close to their unrequited hallway crush.

Not that you can entirely blame them, seeing as you yourself still can't shake the giddy feeling of butterflies whenever James wraps his arms around you. Sure, you'd been dating for about half a year, but somehow he still managed to make your heart skip a beat.

Not long after, the match is over when Marlene manages to catch the Snitch. Louds cheers erupt once more from the spectators on the stands, and soon enough, they're running onto the field to greet the victors.

You're pulled along in the flood of people, practically carried towards the field until the crowd parts for the Gryffindor team. You smile as you lock eyes with James, who practically storms right at you before trapping you in a bear hug, slightly lifting you off the crowd.

"That was amazing!" You say as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "You did so great out there."

"Only because my lucky charm was in the stands," James replies, burying his face in your neck as he grins, "Couldn't have done it without you cheering me on." You chuckle, knowing arguing against him would be pointless even though you know he's a great player whether you're there or not.

The celebrations continued in the Gryffindor common room, the firewhiskey flowing while people cheered, laughed and talked to each other. Throughout the entire night, James held you practically glued to his hip: always an arm around your shoulders or waist, kissing the top of your head or your cheek.

"-And then Mary fired that Bludger at the Ravenclaw Seeker, and I ducked down for the Quaffle, and then-" James rants about the game, completely caught up in his story.

"Remember to breathe, James. We don't need you passing out," Remus says, making everyone laugh and James shake his head.

"Oh please, as if I could breathe when this one here takes my breath away the entire time," James quips, "Not that I mind, though. I'd gladly pass out if it meant you sitting next to me in the hospital wing."

"James!" You exclaim.

"What? It's true," He responds shamelessly as he shrugs, making the others shake their heads and chuckle.

As if you weren't already glued to his side, James pulls you even closer to him, making you laugh when his breath tickles the nape of your neck.

"Oh come on, can you two act even more like high school sweethearts? We're getting cavities from looking at you " Sirius groans, to which you only raise an eyebrow and reply with, "That's rich coming from the guy who had his tongue down his boyfriend's throat less than a minute ago."

"I don't see the relevance of you pointing that out, but alright," Sirius replies with mock-ignorance as he sits close to Remus, who nuzzles his face in Sirius's nape and softly smiles.

As the night progressed, the firewhiskey started to take over your systems, making you a bit more bold and unfiltered.

"You know, sometimes I still don't understand how we got together," You say, slightly slurring your words as you look at James.

"Oh god, here we go again," Sirius sighed, turning to Remus, "James is going to confess his undying love for her again."

"Hey, I can't help it that this perfect angel walked into my life, you have Remus to blame for that," James shrugged as he kisses your cheek for the millionth time that night.

You and Remus had been friends ever since first year, finding companionship in your shared love for literature and classic history. James swears he fell for you when you were rambling about the works of some ancient philosopher, claiming that you could light up an entire city with the energy you put into it.

"Well, I don't know about perfect angel, but thank you anyway," You say, resting your head on James's shoulder as you whisper in his ear. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, love."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

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[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

15. "I'll keep kissing you." "Until you're sick of it?" "Until I can't think of anything else but you." For Gojo? Like s/o was feeling insecure if he really wants to date her but this is how he reassures her that he loves her dearly?

Quite The Romantics {Gojo Satoru}

A/n: thank you for requesting, I hope you like the outcome

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

Trigger warnings: mentions of self-doubt, insecurities and overall angst, implied sexual activity

Being in a relationship with the strongest sorcerer alive was easy. The late night calls that signalled missions, him worrying about his students, the higher ups... everything was manageable. It helped that you were also a sorcerer so you knew what the dangers were and Gojo didn't have to keep things a secret in order to protect you.

Being in a relationship with the most handsome man you've ever seen was not easy. It had been a mutual agreement to keep things lowkey and so far it had been fine. The students knew about you two and they were fully supportive and excited when they saw the two of you together inside the school grounds but things were not so simple outside of campus.

Gojo and you didn't share a home, yet at least since he had been pestering you for a month to move in with him; having a huge and luxurious apartment always had its perks. So when it came to dates there were only two options: either Gojo would pick you up or you would meet him at the date spot.

With your line of work, the latter was what usually worked best.

Tonight's date had been marvellous. From the food to the music to the view, you had to hand it to him; Gojo Satoru had taste. And even after the date, when the two of you returned to his place... everything was perfect. Perfect apart from one thing.

"Where's your little mind travelling?" Gojo returned from the bathroom, grey sweatpants on and a white towel on his head. The usual scent of sex had now been replaced by the smell of his body lotion and shampoo: roses.

You were a little hesitant to reply and in your mind it was only natural. Who wouldn't be nervous when the love of their life was asking them what is going?

"Oh no!" He plopped next to you on the bed, a small smirk on his face. "Can I guess?" He nuzzled his face in the crook of your head, his arm already wrapped around your waist.

"Go on." You sighed and turned on your side, facing him. Something about the way he hugged you felt comforting and you knew he knew it. It was a small trick Gojo always had up his sleeve that not even he knew how he had found out.

"Is it about the girl that came up to me while I was waiting for you at the restaurant? Don't be shy with me honey." He giggled. That bastard knew what he was doing and your silence wasn't helping your case. "I knew it." He pulled away from you with a smile.

You didn't want to admit it. Mostly because you were confident in yourself and in your relationship with him. But there were times when you could see other people flirting with him and something in you broke. You weren't nearly as confident as him, nor that much of an outgoing person and your ego was in normal levels. So what was stopping him from breaking up with you to find someone else?

Being in a relationship with Gojo Satoru only had perks. Gojo knew you better than anyone. He knew how to make you laugh, how to make you moan, how to make you stop crying. He also knew how to touch and kiss you.

"What are you doing?" You tried pushing him away but he was strong and he wasn't letting go of you. Pushing him away, especially when laughing at the same time, was never easy and you knew it, but you still did it anyway. Not because you wanted him away from you but because you wanted to piss him off.

"I'm kissing you." He laughed, placing another small peck on your collarbone before travelling up to your neck and then your cheeks and then your mouth.

"Haven't you kissed me enough already?"

"I'll keep doing it, I don't care."

"Until you're sick of it?"

"Until I know you know I can't think of anything else but you."

[your-nanas-house]

Hi Nana!! I hope you're okay ✨

I hope you don't mind but I have another kitten request ! Hear me out: Kittens your roommate and you accidentally walk in on her naked but she's not shy so she's like "you can touch me if you want?" Giving you the puppy dog eyes and she's also like "since you've seen mine, show me yours!" And while having actually fucking she admits that's she's wanted you for awhile! So smutty and fluffy! Please please please! I'm begging🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hey dear!! Sorry that it took me so longgg. I love this idea 😭 and no prob, you can always send a request! Even more than one, I don't mind at all. 🥰

Oops... I did it again.

◇ Pairing: Kitten Braden X fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, Kitten's little 'pussy', fluff, roommates, swearing

◇ Summary: Y/n finds her roommate naked waiting for her... again.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing 🙇🏼‍♀️

"Kitten—" Y/n called out while entering the apartment to find her roommate, her hand grabbing the handle to open the door and walk in, ready to find the woman sitting on her bed or in front of her makeup table— and not naked with a magazine in her hand.

It was the second time that she had walked on her like that, the first had happened weeks earlier but luckily the young woman managed to close quickly the bathroom door and leave before apologizing for an either week.

They didn't talked about that "incident" but during a roommate night of theirs, the brunette woman mentioned suggestively something about being... comfortable without clothes, loving to just wander around her home with no care or fabric covering her stunning self. Sadly, Y/n was too drunk to understand the flirty tone and the meaning behind that simple statement to actually react at it like Patricia hoped.

"Oh hi, sweetheart. You're bit late, thought you would be back nearly an hour ago" Kitten's sweet provocative tone said to break the silence that the view of her bare body had created, hiding her amusement when she glanced towards the front door catching the funny expression of the young woman.

Her jaw had slightly dropped and her eyes wide in surprise, astonished by the confidence that her roommate was emanating by talking to her so casually as if she wasn’t naked and vulnerable in front of her.

"Y-Yeah... my parents kept me longer than expected" Y/n's voice came out weaker than intended, her eyes staring only at the beautiful woman's face... focused to not wander lower, although it was definitely difficult to not glance down at her smooth freckled thighs or at her alluring movements of her groomed hands

"Aw, that's cute. Can't wait to meet your family someday" Kitten beamed out while getting up from her sitting position, now showing off her god's given gift which was her body as if she was posing just for her; almost as if to barter— the vision of her body in exchange of her submission and devotion.

There really was no shame, it was quite arousing to see. Enough to make Y/n's heart beat faster, drumming in her chest, and her breath to get caught in her throat while she clenched casually her thighs together in an attempt to find some friction as her pussy got wetter.

Fucking hell... Kitten and her damn antics.

"Why do you look so shy, darling?... You can touch if you want" she offered while moving closer, her narrow and sexy hips swaying hypnotically till she came to a stop in front of her.

Her light blue eyes checked Y/n slowly out as her groomed hands moved sensually to allow her slender fingers to brush the skin of her arms, down to her wrists to take a good hold of it and help her roommate take things further by placing her hands on her waist... letting go to rest her own on her shoulders.

As Y/n looked up to meet her gaze, she could tell that Kitten had it all planned, her little naughty smile was sharing her true intentions and expectations while her small touches where doing the little work that needed to be done to break her definitely.

"You're unbelievable" the young woman commented as her thumbs caressed the soft freckled skin, pulling her body closer to her own "Truly unbelievable, Kitten" her voice added lowly as she brushed her nose against her jawline, feeling the woman's curly hair tickle her face as her scent enveloped her.

That damn... beautiful, arousing woman.

A tiny purr escaped Kitten, her breath was getting heavier at the feeling of her hands wandering around her naked body, resting on her ass to knead the flesh while her mouth worked on the tender skin of her neck

"O-Ohh... just like that" Patricia soft voice whined out, her hips buckling forward unconsciously in an attempt to find some friction for her leaking cock.

Her tip was already off an angry red, sticky due to her fluids and her balls heavy, in need of touch "Please, pretty please, Y/n baby" her plead escaped her glossy lips, asking for more while leaving wet kisses on her shoulders and every spot of bare skin she could reach.

It was quite amusing to watch, in fact Y/n's mocking face cracked to leave space to a smile, enjoying Kitten's needy self, as her eyes kept taking her whole in while her right hand brushed her stomach to reach her cock... the little 'pussy' of hers.

"Look at your pretty pussy, dripping for me, right Kitty?" Her voice hummed as her fingers caressed her lenght, grabbing it at the base before starting to stroke using her spit as a lube.

The evening light that entered from the window that faced the silent street, made Kitten look just divine, causing her pale skin glow tenderly and Y/n's stomach react with butterflies.

"Yes, that's it, honey" the young woman cooed, increasing the speed while hearing Kitten's pornographic like moans, her expression changing due to the pleasure

"Want me to go faster? Make you cum" she cooed softly again at the woman's reaction, allowing her to bury her face more into her neck while her hips kept meeting her strokes. Soft moans and pleads kept escaping from her soft lips which were pressed right against her skin, feeling her pulsing heart with them.

A couple of more strokes and Kitten shoot her load, dirtying her roommate's hand and clothes; making amends immediately with a low sensual moan that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

"Woah, darling" the woman's voice murmured, her confident self coming back to surface "It's not your first time for sure, hm... Why don't you remove your clothes as well. I mean it's only fair, right? You saw me like mommy made me" her soft voice persuaded Y/n teasingly, making her strip in front of her and meet her baby blue eyes again.

She could tell that Kitten was loving what she had in front of her, her groomed hands twitching slightly as she held back from touching

"Why do you look so shy, darling?... You can touch if you want" Y/n stated using her previous comment against her, keeping a little smirk on her amused face as her heart kept beating like crazy, shame and nervousness eating her as she stayed still and bare acting confident as best she could.

"You aren't that shy like you want me to believe, hm? Your little pussy is getting soaked again just by seeing me like this, right.. baby?" The young woman mocked, pulling Kitten's face closer to meet her soft lips with hers; the sweet taste of her lip gloss lingering on her tongue as soon as she granted her permission.

Patricia's hands reached for Y/n's naked hips when their kiss got more passionate, their heart was beating fast and almost in sync as their lips met in little pecks when they slowly laid down.

"Wanted this for so long—" Patricia's soft but sensual voice revealed to her roommate as her hands pushed Y/n's body down to take control since her 'pussy' was throbbing, her pre-cum smeared all over the young woman's stomach.

Kitten was about to spread her roommate's legs and position herself at her entrance when she suddenly fall forward due to the grip of her, who wrapped her arm around her lower back to nudge her legs apart, carefully to not hurt Patricia.

Both with spread legs so that their genitals were touching together.

"Grind that pretty pussy on me, honey" the sentence made the woman shiver and move her hips that matched hers. Her balls soaked by Y/n's juices as her 'pussy' kept rubbing against her soft skin wetting it more with pre-cum.

As Patricia's light blue eyes met Y/n's, her cheek flushed a darker pink and her mouth opened slightly to let sinful moans escape her. She had waited so long for that moment, for the occasion to cause that sensual expression on her friend's face, cause the blush and messed up hair, as well as the sexy moans and praises directed at her.

It was sinful, a sensual but sweet dance that got dirtier as soon as they both reached their peak.

"Gosh" Kitten breathed out with a chuckle, her curly hair tickling Y/n's skin while she rested on her chest to catch her breath and get cuddled, feel loved.

Their both were coming down from their climax, enjoying each other's warmth as they gathered the strength to get up and clean

"Best roommate ever, hm?" Y/n hummed, earning a positive answer followed by a chuckle from the curly woman.

[sisters-sideblog]

And my other fill for Ravioli ship week, for that most classic trope of "Only One Bed!" Read it here or on Ao3.

△△△

Link wasn’t home much for a while. After his recovery and agreement that Ravio could use his house while he was away, he promptly found himself halfway across the country chasing clues for several weeks straight. 

He did make it back home eventually. Shaking off the dungeon dust, he staggered back to rest and resupply, so tired he’d forgotten Ravio would be there and nearly drew his sword at the enthusiastic greeting that waited for him in what he was used to thinking of as an empty house. 

In fairness, his abrupt return seemed to startle Ravio as well. 

Now he slumped over dinner, already eyeing the corner where his bed had been shoved aside. It looked like there was just enough room to push one of Ravio’s added tables out of the way and crawl in.

…In fact.

Yes. 

There were scuff marks on the floor. New ones, as if someone had been doing exactly that for several nights. 

Link realized he’d stopped chewing, spoon dangling precariously from limp fingers. At his back, the sounds of Ravio enjoying his own meal fell suspiciously silent. 

It occurred to Link. Finally, belatedly. That he perhaps should have thought of this sooner. 

He hadn’t seen any of Ravio’s possessions aside from the stuff he sold. Wasn’t honestly sure he even had any. But the bag was obviously magical, so maybe…?

Link cleared his throat. Ravio twitched at the sound, spoon clattering against his bowl. 

“Where have you been sleeping?” Link asked in the most neutral tone he could manage. 

“Um. Well. You see.”

When Ravio didn’t continue, Link waited. But aside from clearing his own throat in a distinctly nervous manner, Ravio didn’t continue. Link finally turned to look at him. From the way Ravio dropped his spoon entirely, there was some kind of expression on his face.

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mister Hero!” Ravio immediately returned in a loud but not terribly sincere tone. “I had to leave home so quickly, you see, and I was sleeping on the ground with all those dreadful monsters around before you so graciously lent me your home. It isn’t very comfortable down there. As, ah. As you know. since you’ve probably been sleeping on the ground, too.” He faltered to a stop rather than try to dig himself back out of the hole he’d talked himself into. His hands were wringing together, his posture hunched in a way that made Link think he might be about to throw himself back down on the ground like he had when he was begging for a place to stay. Link couldn’t see the extraordinarily sad puppydog eyes, but he could feel them aimed right at him. 

He had spare blankets and a bedroll. The space in front of the fire would be perfectly warm. 

But Link wouldn’t get any sleep himself if he made Ravio sleep on the ground while he enjoyed the comfort of a bed mere steps away. If the guilt didn’t keep him up, the sounds of Ravio shifting around certainly would. 

He sighed. “Fine.”

Rounded shoulders immediately straightened. Link swore the fake ears on the hood perked straight up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Mister Hero! I promise you won’t even notice I’m there!”

Link doubted that. 

△△△

The problem of logistics returned once, after much arguing, they had cleared sufficient space around the bed for them to both now be standing on either side of it. The dying fire cast a dull orange glow through the room, the door locked and the shutters closed for the night. Link was halfway through trying not to think too hard as he stripped down to his nightclothes before he realized Ravio had pulled his boots off and stopped, reaching to fold back his side of the covers with the bunny hood still on.

“Are you going to sleep with that on?” Link didn’t really want those giant embroidered eyes staring at him in the middle of the night. 

“I usually don’t,” Ravio said, which wasn’t an answer. 

“I don’t care what you look like,” Link tried. 

It didn’t seem to help. Ravio faltered, wringing his hands and just standing there awkwardly. He finally cleared his throat. “Could you turn around?”

Eyes narrowed, Link gave him a suspicious visual sweep. “Why?”

“I’m going to take it off.” 

“I might roll over in my sleep,” Link warned. He still didn’t have the faintest idea why Ravio didn’t want him to know what he looked like, but obviously he cared quite a bit. It was only fair to warn him.

“I know, friend, I didn’t mean you had to stay facing away all night! I have this!” He pulled something from one voluminous sleeve; after a bit of squinting, Link first thought it a mask, then a blindfold. But it had no eyeholes to be the former and looked too padded and comfortable to be the latter. 

“I’m not wearing a blindfold!” he said hotly. 

Ravio, Link had noticed, seemed to almost fluff up and out when he worried he’d angered someone against himself. Like a frightened cat with puffed out fur trying to make itself bigger than it was. “It’s not for you, it’s for me! And it’s a sleeping mask, not a blindfold!”

They stared at each other from across the bed. One beat. Two. 

Feeling red in the cheeks and more than a little foolish, Link turned around. Rustling sounds behind him; the covers folding back. He heard Ravio sit, then near silence for several long moments, save Ravio hissing a brief curse to himself. 

“You can turn around now,” he finally said. When Link did, he found Ravio sitting upright in the bed, hugging the far side, his hood traded for some kind of silk wrap that completely covered his hair and ears and the “sleeping mask.” Between the two, he was still nearly as covered as with the hood alone. Unlike with the hood, it was obvious he could no longer see, the direction of his head aimed somewhere more towards the middle of the room than Link himself. 

“Well. Good night, Mister Hero,” Ravio said, sounding as awkward as Link felt. 

“Good night,” Link echoed. He watched Ravio lie down and roll onto his side, facing away. 

Climbing into his bed with someone else already in it was… odd. Link tried to lay on his back, since that seemed the safest way to not actually touch his bedmate. But he’d never been much of a back sleeper. It didn’t take long for things to start to ache, and no amount of fidgeting was making it any better. 

Ravio politely didn’t mention Link’s shifting, but his shoulders drew up under the covers. 

This wasn’t going to work. Time for Plan B. 

Trying hard to roll over without pulling any of the covers off of his bedmate, Link gave in and flipped to his side. 

This presented a new problem. His bed wasn’t terribly large. When he tried to curl up it pressed their backs together; a feeling startling in its intimacy. But more importantly, drawing his feet up meant he encountered Ravio’s own. 

“Your toes are cold!” Link yelped. 

“So are yours!” Ravio lied. 

“They are not!” Link yanked them further up regardless to get his poor innocent calves away from Ravio’s freezing toes, but that just pressed their backs more firmly together. Grumbling, he flipped over again. Onto his stomach now, head turned to the side on his pillow so he could breathe, one arm hugging the pillow and the other curled up against himself; a position Gully had found him in more than once when he was sent to see why Link wasn’t yet awake and working at his apprenticeship. He’d turned his head habitually to the left, and so now faced Ravio, his nose nearly tucked all the way up against the back of his neck. He thought he saw Ravio shiver when he exhaled. 

Link liked the way he smelled. 

“Is this okay?” He felt the need to check. 

“Perfectly fine, Mister Hero!” Ravio returned in a pitch that could accurately be described as a squeak. Link didn’t have the mental energy left to check whether he meant it. The past few weeks had been long, and now that he was finally comfortable they were catching up to him. Incoming slumber weighed down all his limbs. 

It felt nice. To fall asleep next to someone. It felt really, really nice. 

Not falling asleep on a hard dungeon floor helped, too. Ravio was right. Sleeping on the ground sucked.

Even if he did wake up in the middle of the night to find that Ravio had stolen all the covers. Ravio put them back when he rose before Link did in the morning; Link woke to the warmth of someone else’s lingering body heat in the blankets heaped up over him. It was a feeling he thought he could very quickly get used to.

[leighsartworks216]

I Was Hoping You'd Find Me Here

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Inspired by how Harvey goes from saying "I was hoping you wouldn't find me here" to "I was hoping you'd find me here" after marriage when you find him in the hedge maze. Y'all when I say I dropped everything out of nowhere, actual *hours* after getting that line, to write this, I mean it. Also not proofread bc as soon as I finished the sex-repulsion started rearing it's ugly head so if there're any typos lemme know lol

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, hand jobs, blow job mention, anxiety, embarrassment, blood mention, praise kink, slight dom/sub

Word Count: 1,863

Masterlist

AO3

"I was hoping you'd find me here." Bright blush illuminated Harvey's face even in the shadow of the looming hedges.

The farmer smirked. "Oh, were you?"

They pressed closer into his space, until the leaves behind his back were catching on the fabric of his green jacket, rustling with the disturbance of his weight. He nearly leapt out of his skin when their fingers curled around his belt loops, pulling him closer.

In the shadows of the moonlight, smirking like a cat staring down its prey, he could almost imagine them being a vampire. He gulped thinking about their teeth on his neck, biting down until they drew blood. And the hot press of their tongue lapping it up.

"What are you thinking about, darling?"

Their eyes glimmered like they knew exactly what he'd just been picturing in his mind. He felt warmth reach the tips of his ears and travel down his neck. He wasn't a stranger to intimacy, but he was all too aware of their location, and Maru just around the corner.

His spouse granted him the mercy of not having to answer as they slotted their lips over his, nipping at his lower lip. It only reignited the thoughts from before. He groaned softly, cupping their cheek and leaning into the kiss. They tasted like the breakfast he cooked for them that morning with their produce. Their skin was dusted with a fine layer of dirt, no doubt from tending to the fields before the end of the season. His thumb began brushing it away without thought, his other hand sliding up their arm to cradle their neck.

He gasped, eyes shooting wide open as the buckle of his belt loosened. The smirk from before was now a soft grin, sweet like their fresh maple syrup. “Do you want me to stop?” they whispered.

Everything in his mind said yes. They were in public for Yoba’s sake! Everyone in town was here. There was no telling when somebody could enter the maze and stumble upon them. People who were his patients, who knew him professionally, and the very few who knew him more personally.

He glanced over their shoulder.

They were in the dark… And everybody who wanted to do the maze was already in here, lost somewhere out of earshot… His only concern was Maru, but even she wouldn’t come this way unless she had reason to.

The farmer waited patiently, listening to his frantic heart as he made up his mind. Their hands were still, ready to finish undoing his belt, or to help readjust it back in place. If he asked, they’d grab his hand and drag them back home, back to bed in a mess of sloppy kisses and whispered praises.

“Harv?”

He blinked. With another anxious swallow to tamp down his fears, he kissed them again softly. “I want this,” he muttered against their lips. “I-I’ll try to be quiet.”

They kissed him back sweetly. “Good boy.”

The pet name immediately sent chills down his spine, emboldened by his belt being fully undone and his trousers being unbuttoned. It wasn’t long before their hand pushed into his pants and wrapped around his hardening cock. He keened as quietly as he could manage into their mouth. They happily swallowed up the sound with another kiss.

Their thumb stroked over his slit, spreading the beads of precum already leaking from him. He felt a bit silly, truth be told, like a teenager who snuck out to see his partner in the dead of night, hiding under school bleachers to make out. It made him feel young again. He could almost imagine himself when he was younger, head still set on becoming a pilot despite everything going against him, with a paramour of his own, on a secret, late-night outing.

Though, his secret paramour being his spouse, who chose them despite every other eligible bachelor and bachelorette who pined for their affections, made this even better than in his fantasies.

They pulled away to kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Can you be quiet for me, baby?”

He nodded before his mind even fully comprehended the question.

Their kisses trailed further along his jaw, nipping just under his jaw where any marks wouldn’t be so easily seen. (If he were shorter, anyway.) They languidly pumped his cock in their fist as they loosened his tie next, fluidly unbuttoning the first and second buttons with nimble fingers and pushing his collar aside. Wet, open-mouthed kisses decorated his clavicle. Their tongue dipped in the hollow of his throat, before sucking over his Adam’s apple. When he swallowed, they grinned against it.

He bit his lip to remind himself to be quiet, breathing heavy through his nose as they unbuttoned a few of the middle buttons in his dress shirt and pressed their hand to his stomach, sliding around to his sides.

He shivered again. Their hands were calloused from farming for almost two years straight, rough and yet so gentle with him.

They squeezed the base of his dick before pumping around the head a few times. He whimpered, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop any further sounds from slipping out. If he could, he’d be fully leaned up against the hedge, using it for support as they worked him with as much ease as they ran the farm. Unfortunately, to do so would be to fall into the branches shrouded in the mess of dark leaves.

They kissed back up to his ear, nibbling the lobe, teasing the flesh with one of their canines. He sighed shakily as the thought of vampirism shot to the forefront of his mind again.

“Where do you want to cum, baby?” They whispered against the helix of his ear. “In my hand?” They accentuated the words by dragging their middle finger along the underside of his cock, along the thick, sensitive vein. “Or my mouth?” They sucked his lobe into their mouth, swirling their tongue along it.

They were so close, they could hear and feel the effect they had on him. His heart was racing so fast and loud in his chest, he would have worried it was sounding like a drum throughout the whole town, calling everyone to their location, had he the mind for it. Instead, all he could think about was images of kissing them like a madman as he finished in their hand. Or the feeling of their hair in his hand as they swallowed around his cock, milking him until he was utterly spent. For as much as he would have loved seeing them on their knees before him, looking up at him, highlighted only by the moon in this dark alley of the maze, he feared it would completely destroy his ability to be quiet. Already, he was fighting to stay hushed, when all they’d done is touch and kiss him.

He pulled his hand from his mouth, shaking as he decided his answer. “H-Hand,” he breathed. “P-Please, honey, let me cum.”

They pushed their face into his hand to move it out of the way without having to stop feeling the hair on his chest or trailing down his stomach, or the soft fat on his sides. “I will, darling.” They kissed him long and sweet, but his mouth chased for more and more, passionate and needy as he cupped both their cheeks and pulled them closer, closer, closer.

He moaned and whimpered against their lips as they jerked him off faster. The sounds rumbled low in his throat, like a beast within him was being drawn out with their ministrations. They coaxed his mouth open with their tongue, the bitter taste of coffee mixing with their sweetness. The concerns about being silent slipped his mind entirely as he fast approached his orgasm. They diligently muffled his beautiful sounds, their own mind flooded with love and adoration for the man they chose to marry. Their wonderful, nerdy doctor.

His breath caught in his throat sharply. His hips bucked mindlessly as his cock twitched in their hand. They covered his tip with their palm, stroking just under the head with their thumb as they caught the hot strands of cum. As his dick softened, he sighed shakily against their mouth.

They pulled away first, making sure they got as much of his spend as they could before pulling their hand from his pants. Their hand left his shirt to cup his cheek. He smiled when he felt them trying to fix his mustache.

“Good?”

He nodded. “Really good,” he assured them. A new wave of blood rushed to his cheeks as he noticed their hand, awkwardly held and covered in semen. He removed himself from their hold to fish around his pockets for a packet of tissues. He pulled a couple out of the plastic and cleaned their hand, wrapping the soiled tissues in another protective layer of tissue. When he looked back up at their face, tucking the packet back into his pocket, they had a big, dopey smile on their face. “What?”

They laughed. “You, that’s what. I just didn’t expect you to have tissues.”

“I’m a doctor,” he offered as an explanation with an embarrassed chuckle.

“You’re adorable.” He began rooting around his pockets again. “Hand sanitizer?”

He must’ve been as red as a ripe tomato when he pulled out the small bottle of sanitizer. But they just chuckled and held out their hands, diligently rubbing it between each finger and down their wrists. As they did, he began putting himself back together. He rebuttoned his shirt, tucking it back into his pants to give the illusion that nothing happened. Then he zipped, buttoned, and buckled his trousers once more. His spouse finished cleaning their hands just in time to fix his tie, pressing a kiss to his chin when they finished.

“Ah, thank you, for that, by the way,” he stammered.

They adjusted his collar and smiled warmly at him. “Of course. It was my pleasure.” They grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the alley. “If you wanna wait out there, it shouldn’t take me long to get the golden pumpkin.”

He tugged on their hand, pulling them to a stop just before the entrance of the maze. His heart began racing again as he tried not to regret what he was about to say. “C-Can I go with you?”

“Are you sure?”

He looked down the path, toward where Maru meandered about, trying to gather her sense of direction. It was lit well enough… He tried to ignore the grabby hands peeking around the corner.

The farmer squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to, Harvey. I know you don’t like scary things.”

“I…” He took a deep breath, looking at them once more. “I want to. You make me want to be brave.”

They beamed up at him, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “Okay, if you say so. Don’t let go of my hand, right?”

He held on a bit tighter. “Right.”

Together, they marched into the haunted hedge maze.

…

Harvey stuck around with Abigail until the farmer came back with the prize.

[penspolin]

POLIN JEALOUSY/ADVICE ONE-SHOT

Colin fights his jealousy after watching Penelope and Lord Debling dancing together at a ball, is teased by Benedict, and seeks advice from Violet.

The silver beads threading Penelope's hair seemed to glow like tiny moons. If he'd had parchment and pen, Colin might've noted the perfect juxtaposition of fiery red locks and sparkling silver. He noticed everything--the way her dress swayed so effortlessly against the floor despite her stiff grip on Lord Debling. Was it only Colin's imagination, or did her gloved fingertips hover an inch from his shoulders?

…perhaps he was only imagining it. He reminded himself that Penelope's stiffness was for the sake of propriety. Of course she’d want to touch Debling. He was a gentleman, for one, and even Colin had to admit that he had his own upper-class swagger. A little posh for Colin’s tastes, but from the looks being cast his way across the ballroom floor, Colin knew the lord had made a lasting impression on this season’s eligible debutantes.

Colin hastened for a sip of wine, only to discover that he had drained his glass. He turned away as a certain red-headed beauty twirled across the floor (more gracefully than he had ever allowed himself to notice). He nearly dropped his glass as he struck Benedict in the chest.

“Steady there, brother,” Ben said, putting a hand against Colin’s heaving chest. “What’s the hurry?” He cast a glance over Colin’s shoulder, and the pieces seemed to fall into place. “I’ll say, your friend seems to be enjoying herself. If ‘enjoying yourself’ is best expressed by a scowl, that is.” He tipped his glass. Colin shot him a glare, even though his heart lifted a bit at this last sentiment.

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” Ben said, pushing his glass into Colin’s available hand. “While you’re at the table, fetch me another drink, won’t you?”

“I’m not your waiter,” Colin huffed, stifling the urge to turn back to the dance floor once more. It was like an itch, only scratching it burned like a rash.

“You could do with a break. Somehow my ‘sturdy’ little brother has spent the night looking quite pathetic in the corner.”

“I’m not pathetic,” Colin said, and pain tightened his chest. 

Ben rolled his eyes, still looking across the dance floor. “Say, maybe I ought to have a word with this Debling fellow. See if his eye for art is as keen as his eye for a wife.”

“Give him my best,” Colin grumbled, sounding more pathetic by the second.

Benedict gave him a sturdy pat on the shoulder. “And you, give Ms. Featherington your best while I do it. Now, hurry along now and get those drinks before the dance is over.” With a wink, he rejoined the sea of lords and ladies.

Colin gazed across the open floor once more. The waltz was approaching its conclusion. Pen’s hair looked on fire in the torchlight. His mind wandered to the fragments of a dream—Pen in the garden, her eyes twinkling a magnetic blue, her lips a luscious pink. He had leaned in just enough to catch the scent of her hair—like the wisteria garden, only…newer, fresher, somehow, and then—

“Colin, dear. Are you feeling alright?” His mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her brow furrowed, and he hurried to right himself, as he had taught himself to do long before Penelope had pounded her way into the forefront of his mind.

Some things, it seemed, had not changed. He had a guard up, and even his beloved mama could not crumble it.

“Very well, mother,” he managed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Merely...looking for a refill.”

“Not feeling up to a waltz tonight, I take it?” The look she gave him suggested she knew there was a particular reason for it—Colin was not one for skipping dances. 

He had been avoiding his mother, he realized. Was that a flicker of hurt in her eyes? More than his brothers or sisters, Violet Bridgerton had always had an eye out for these things. And if that was the case, should he not be using her knowledge to his advantage?

“Mother,” he began, aware of the blush suffusing his cheeks. “Forgive me, I know we are in company, but I must ask. Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?”

She smiled, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Lovely eyes, so open and trusting. He suddenly hated himself for having avoided her, even if it was unintentional. Perhaps it was because of this conversation that he had kept himself from her. 

And something told him that she knew this as well as she whispered, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

[k-atsukibakugou]

Happy two year anniversary!!

I’d like to order three Jager Bombs. One for me and Mr. Plague daddy Overhaul over there. The other is for the girl of the hour of course 😉

(Psst- not sure if it’s my app but the links to your rules isn’t working ;-; I’d overhaul is a no go for you pls feel free to replace for Bakugo/Shinso. Whichever you’re more inspired to write 💚. Happy two years!!)

thank u bby! i appreciate the bomb for me too teehee i wrote this for shinso bc i don't write for overhaul but i think tumblrs been having issues with the links but thank u for sending one in either way! i hope u enjoy <3 birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

��can i get a jagerbomb? pl-pease?” your bright smile falters for just a moment when you try to keep your tone as even as possible at the spike of stimulation between your thighs, the slowly-dying battery kicking into life every few moments before settling to a low buzz again. shinso eyed you lazily, purple eyes looking you up and down, specifically drawn to the way your thighs squeezed together the moment you pulled yourself onto the barstool, before finally settling at your eyes.

“that’s everything?” oh, his voice is so deep, and you’re already so sensitive, the shiver running down your spine, your thighs nearly trembling at the low timbre.

if he was anyone else in this bar — drunk patron, high server — he wouldn’t have noticed the way you reacted to the sound of his voice, the miniscule changes in your demenour with every syllable that passed his lips, every letter senting a jolt straight to your aching clit. unfortunately for you, he’s awfully perceptive, noting every shiver, every jump, every squirm when he gets you your drink, and your second, and by the third he’s sure you’ve got a cute little vibrator tucked in the front of your panties; only half charged he’d guess by the way you kept wiggling, raising your hips into it as much as you could without drawing attention to yourself, despite how desperate you were to ride the poor toy until it either gave out or you did.

studying you from the far end of the bar, shinso watches you nearly choke on the drink when another strong burst of life from the toy, the surge getting you closer than the others had, your desperation to cum starting to show. glancing around the other customers, confirming all of them drunkenly dancing and cheering, you adjust in your seat, squeezing your thighs closer together, your eyelashes fluttering when you grinded firmly down onto the toy.

you’re so fucking desperate, nearly humping the chair the moment you think no ones watching you. hoisting himself off the edge of the bar, he stalks back towards the dimly lit corner you stayed in, a satisfied expression gracing his features when you froze in your spot, “you want another drink?”

his tone is bored when he gestures to the empty glass in front of you, but his eyes are anything but, lit ablaze by your nervousness, his violet iris growing darker when you stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes. leaning his forearms on the bar, he leaned closer, close enough you worry if he can hear the steady buzzing coming from between your slick, shaky thighs, “or did you just come here to get off?”

your chest tightens, your mouth bobbing open and shut dumbly, mumbling sounds that weren’t quite entire sentences, hardly even words, not quite managing to spout your innocence. the more you stumbled over your words, the hotter your face got, and the faster the blood rushed from his head, the more he wanted you.

“don’t bother trying to deny it, baby, you like geting off like this. with no one else having any idea what you’re doing over here,” he tilts his head curiously to the side, his lilac gaze as intense as it was when your eyes first met his, studying you, the way you squirmed the more he spoke.

he drops his voice, whispering lowly into your ear, “tell me you like it, and i’ll help you.”

your pupils nearly swallow your iris staring up at his wicked smile, your hips rolling subconsciously the longer he stares you down. parting your lips to speak, no sound escapes your wet lips.

shinso knows exactly what you want, but still, he scrunches his eyebrows, even going as far to cup his ear, “sorry, baby, what was that? it’s so loud in here, i couldn’t hear you.”

you flush again, finally mustering your voice, “please.”

quirking an eyebrow at you, he tosses up taking pity on you, hearing your sweet voice plead with him was enough to get his cock aching, but was it enough to get him to fuck you stupid? to finally have you cum? voice dripping in condescension, he whispered to you once more, “oh, sweetheart, you think you deserve to cum begging like that? that was pitiful.”

he stands back up straight to his full height, taking a step back from the ring-marked counter, his heart rate spiking when you gently circle your fingers around his wrist, god, his pants were getting tight, “please, i wanna cum.”