#pure fluff guys

[zoofzoofxx]

Cuddling sounds so good right now

Pairing - Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

Summary - After enjoying some drinks at a girls' night out, you made a silly joke thru the phone, and Joost ended up picking you up. He helped you get ready for bed. Right before going to sleep, you demanded a cuddle session.

Genre - pure fluff

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While seated at the table with my girlies, enjoying drinks consequence-free, the alcohol intake began to resemble "prank calling my boyfriend." My closest friend sat beside me, not as intoxicated. Leaning towards her, I quietly disclosed the entire scheme. Despite her laughter and disapproving nod, I proceeded. I reached for my phone, scrolled through the contacts to find my boyfriend's name, and tapped to call him.

“Hey schat. (Hey babe.)” My boyfriend’s voice came through my speaker.

"Hello, this is Y/n L/n speaking. Are you interested in purchasing a fridge?" I inquired, then muted myself while erupting into laughter with my girls. It was a silly and bland joke, but the drinks made it appear amusing.

"Y/n?-" is the last thing I heard before hanging up. After a while, I received a text saying: 'I'll come pick you up in 30.' I showed the messages to my best friend, and she suggested taking advantage of those 30 minutes to grab more drinks.

We celebrated, sipped, danced , and simply relished the moment until one of friends approached me to inform me that my boyfriend was waiting outside for me. I collected my belongings and attempted to walk steadily and appear clear-headed, but ultimately I stumbled and tumbled right into my boyfriend's embrace.

"Haha, you're so strong," I slurred while reaching out to his biceps. He chuckled and kindly took my bag from me, assisting me to his car.

"Babe, I adore youuu…" I murmur while playing with his hair as he secures my seatbelt. Then plants a kiss on my forehead and shuts the car door. He then settles into the driver's seat and starts the car. I was chatting the whole journey with Joost, and he didn't seem bothered. He simply listened and conversed with me as if I were clear-headed. After a while, we reached our residence. He turned to me, assisted in unfastening the seatbelt, and stepped out of the car. Guiding me out of it, he lifts me up in a bridal style carry as we enter our home. He places me gently by a nearby chair, removes my shoes. I let out a yawn, resting my head on the kitchen table, nearly dozing off. I heard the water running in the bathroom, assuming Joost was showering, but he emerged, lifted me, and escorted me to the bathroom.

"Are you able to bathe independently?" He inquires. And I simply nodded in response.

"Sure thing, just give a shout if you need a hand, I'll be waiting outside," he assured me, planting a kiss on top of my nose. I hugged him from behind as he was leaving. We stood there quietly for a moment until I let go, and he walked out. After relaxing in the bath, I wrapped myself in towels and left the bathroom.

"I'm so hungry, babe..." I tell him as he smiles at me. He looks really cute at this moment. His hair is all messy, falling over his eyes. I go up on my toes to kiss him quickly on the lips. He kisses me back, and I don't want it to end. He holds me by my waist, kissing me until he lifts me up and takes me to the bathroom, placing me on the edge of the bathtub.

"What are you up to?" I ask as he starts to open the cupboard, removing all my skincare items.

"You'll appreciate it tomorrow, darling," he mentions as he crouches down to begin my skincare routine. I couldn't help but admire how adorable he looked and occasionally run my fingers through his hair while he finished.

He took my hand and guided me to our bedroom, gently placing me on the bed before heading to the wardrobe. Returning with fresh pajamas, he assisted me in changing. After laying me down, he mentioned he'd be back shortly. Moments later, he emerged from the shower, finding me gazing out the window. He approached, embracing me from behind.

“Gaan we al slapen schat? (Are we going to sleep darling?)” He inquired while planting a peck on my cheek, and I simply acknowledged. I reclined beside him. Subsequently, a hush fell between us.

"Joost," I initiate, and I could perceive him pivoting.

"Yeah, princess?" He inquires, and I simply grin at the endearing nickname.

"Can we cuddle, pretty please?" I inquire, drawing nearer to him as a gesture.

I sensed his hand encircling my waist, followed by a kiss on my shoulder. A content smile graced my lips as I drifted into slumber, comforted by the presence of my exceptional partner beside me. I consider myself truly fortunate.

A/n - HI BABES!!!! Sorry that this one shot was so short 💔 I have a bunch of assignments to tackle tomorrow, so I might not be able to share anything. However, I have a one shot request about Baby Lasagna, so I'll likely dedicate some time to it tomorrow, and you can anticipate the one-shot to be up on Friday! I've also got an idea for the third part of my tale involving Joost. So stay tuned for updates! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

[perpetuallyconfused10]

Im the one who asked about requests lol, I just have this Hotch thought and I can't stop thinking about it 🫂😭

Imagine Garcia "screaming" about a video, telling the whole team about it (except Hotch and Reader), and that video is on tiktok. When they spill something about the video, Hotch and Reader ask which video they're referring to, not knowing it's from a tiktok account where the person makes videos on Hotch x Reader (like edits taken from some interview where they look at each other, slightly touches and things like that) and it's a whole profile with a lot of videos like that! So the whole team teases them and they obviously like eachother!!

Feel free to change anything!!

Gone Viral, Gone Wrong

Thank you to this anon for submitting my first request! I might have written it (and especially Hotch) be a little (way) too sappy, but I love your idea so much and I hope I did it some type of justice! WC: 3.3K

GIF by ssa-aaron-hotch-hotchner

There must be something on your face. Toothpaste, maybe, or coffee on your shirt, or a tear in your trousers. Something to explain the numerous pairs of eyes following you as you dash for the elevator, just as you always do. 

This morning’s been one for the books. Between a text from your highschool ex-boyfriend, congratulating you on your ‘newfound fame’ — whatever he means by that, you don’t know — and the incomprehensibly slurred voicemails you woke up to from your sister, you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

You tell yourself you’re probably imagining it. But Anderson doesn’t say a word to you as you both make your way to the BAU, just casts you sidelong glances between the rapid texts he’s sending. You hope to God it’s not you, that he's just having an awful morning, then scold yourself for it. If you’re not off to a good start, at least somebody should be.

It’s the silence in the bullpen that confirms your suspicions. Emily, JJ, and Garcia sit huddled around Emily’s computer, squeezed onto two chairs they’ve pulled together. Morgan leans over them to look at the screen. He’s in the middle of laughing at something Garcia’s said when you walk in. 

You don’t even need Reid’s not-so-subtle hiss of “Guys–” to know you’re not going crazy. The smirks that drop from their faces, the giggles that extinguish themselves as you enter through the double doors, are more than enough. 

Four profilers and a technical analyst, as it turns out, can be rather terrifying when the force of their stares are directed at you. 

A sheepish grin tugs at your lips as you hold up your peace offering: a tray of coffee. “Hi?”

You’ve come to know how the team works. You know exactly how they react when ambushed, how they spring to action like a well-oiled machine.

There’s something a little mechanical to them now, bared in their responses to your arrival. After giving you one of his usual tight-lipped smiles, Reid flips open a random file on his desk and begins to read. JJ grabs the computer mouse, clicks a few times, and turns away from the monitor to greet you. Morgan clocks the drinks in your hands and conjures a grin just a little wider than normal. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says as he plucks the tray from your hands, thanking you with a squeeze to your forearm. 

Garcia, eyeing the gesture, nearly chokes on the end of the pen she’s chewing. She stands to usher you over to your desk, her chirpy voice a balm attempting to smooth over what has been a very odd start to your working day. 

“What were you guys looking at?” You ask her, eyebrows raised. If anyone’s going to tell you what’s going on, Penelope is, without a doubt, most likely to spill.

You’re disappointed – and even more confused – when she stands her ground. Through her ramble, you just about make out the words “cat” and “spa” before she’s kissing your cheek and speeding away to your lair. 

You sigh as you switch on your own computer. One thing is clear. The team doesn’t like to be ambushed. And, somehow, that is exactly what you have done. 

—

After finishing off one of your consults, you suffer through a morning briefing that ends up being far more complicated than it needs to be. It’s only a paperwork day, by the looks of things. In theory, this is the ‘easiest’ your job gets; if you’re not called out on an emergency, you can bank on a day of case reports and shitty coffee. 

Nothing is ever easy at the BAU, not even now. Everything is out of order. There’s none of the usual idle chatter that precedes a briefing, just a fragile silence. Rossi moves from his normal position to take your place between Reid and JJ. He mutters something about the chair being uncomfortable and shoos you away from your seat. Though you can’t resist the opportunity to call him an old man for his pedantics, you acquiesce and take his spot instead. You find nothing wrong with it. 

Then Hotch walks in to start the briefing, and you find about a hundred reasons to curse David Rossi. He’s wearing the gray suit, again, the one he likes pairing with his red tie. That should be a crime in itself. When he takes the only seat available — his usual seat, the one now next to you — you’re almost sure you hear JJ snort. Emily pats her on the back as she conceals it with a very unconvincing cough.

Hotch frowns in your direction, probably mulling over the change in seating plan, then turns his attention to JJ. “Are you alright?”

The blonde clears her throat. “Fine. Thanks, Hotch,” she says. 

Garcia rests her elbows on the table, her mouth concealed by the palm of her hand. 

Hotch nods, casting another short glance your way. “Good.”

Then he launches into the briefing, and you can almost convince yourself things are perfectly normal, that your face isn’t alight with heat and you’re not avoiding looking at him, that everything is fine. When you’re dismissed, you scurry towards the door fast enough you almost miss it. 

“Garcia?” His voice is quiet, his tone soft with something disapproving hiding beneath it. “My office, please.”

Everything is decidedly not fine. 

—

By noon, you can’t take it anymore. “Emily Prentiss, what the fuck are you doing?”

The question comes out louder and more harshly than you’d intended. In your peripheral vision, you see Reid’s eyes widen at the desk next to yours. Emily, halfway through a sandwich, freezes. 

“I’m sorry?”

The grin fades from her face. 

You huff. “You’ve been looking between me and your computer for the last half-hour. What is it? Is there something on my face?” Morgan laughs from the other side of the bullpen, and you raise your voice a little in desperation. “Seriously. Have I done something wrong?”

JJ must have heard the commotion, because she pokes her head out of her office door. She takes one look at you and sighs. “Probably best to get it over with, Em.”

When Emily hesitates, your eyes narrow. “Get what over with?”

She stands and beckons you over to her desk, firing up her computer screen as you settle into her chair. JJ comes down the stairs to join you. Though they don’t move, you can practically feel Morgan and Reid staring at the three of you from across the room. 

What you see projected on Emily’s screen doesn’t make things any clearer.

“That’s—” you pause, dumbfounded. “Why are you looking at me and Hotch?”

The picture is easy to place. It must have been taken a few days ago, during a small-town case. Hotch had asked you to deliver a profile to the media when JJ was working on something else. It was far from the first time you’d faced the press head-on during your time at the Bureau, but Hotch had stood by your side anyway. 

You’re not sure why she’s chosen this photo, if any, to look at. The wind’s blowing your hair into your face, and you’re midway through changing expressions so it almost looks like you’re in pain. 

“Just watch,” Emily says. She presses the spacebar and the picture bursts into action.

—

“—If you believe you have any information that may relate to this case, we’d appreciate you calling the following number…” you say. You proceed to rattle off the number for the tip line JJ’s set up, but only get halfway through before everything derails. 

“How do we know this isn’t all just bullshit?” 

The voice overpowering yours is weathered, and so is the man who pushes through the crowd of journalists to get close to you and Hotch, whose posture you see straighten in an instant. You watch as the reporters from the city turn to look at the interloper, pens out and waiting, no doubt, for either you or your boss to slip up.

For a long moment, Hotch watches the man, his face twisted in irritation. He merely restates the tip line number and your request for any potential witnesses to come forward.

But the skeptic doesn’t let up. “This guy’s an outsider. Not one of us. Everyone here knows each other, they have done for years—”

“We’re not trying to cause a panic,” you say, your tone even, “We don’t want you all to turn on each other. But the man we’re looking for knows this town. He’s confident finding his way around the forest, even the areas that haven’t been mapped out yet. He knows the shortcuts, which roads are quiet and which are too risky to take. We’re asking you to exercise caution, and to report anything suspicious if you see it.”

“So what? A few pins on a map and you’re convinced it’s one of us?”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. This case has been harder on him than most, and you can sense that he’s on the verge of responding in a way he’ll regret later. You put a hand on his forearm as he raises it to retort, squeezing it gently in the hopes he’ll get the signal you really don’t have the seniority to be sending him: stand down. He takes a deep breath, and you let your hand slide down to meet his wrist, guiding it just a fraction backwards to rest by his side. The contact lasts only a second, maybe two, before you let him be. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, his eyes slow to drag themselves from your face. “We’re not here to defend the science behind criminal profiling. Our priorities remain finding the person responsible for these crimes and the safety of this community until we do. If you have any information at all, please don’t hesitate to contact us. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Even the most amateur journalist would know he’s done answering questions. Hotch gives a brief nod, turns and leads you out of the Georgia heat and back into shelter of the precinct. All the time, his hand hovers over your back, his gaze searching for any potential disruptions. 

Then there’s his voice, deep and almost inaudible. You feel his breath brush your earlobe. “Thank you.”

—

Oh. 

Now you’re looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, you do look a little…cozy with Hotch. Not enough to walk the line of unprofessionalism, but enough for you to notice it. 

Emily folds her arms, leans back in her chair. “What’s that about?”

Avoiding her eyes, you shrug. “What’s what about?”

“The canoodling,” JJ says with a smirk, and you slap her arm. 

You’re a profiler. You should know your little attempt at denial isn’t going to work, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. “Canoodling? Seriously, Jen? I don’t think anyone under the age of eighty has ever said the word ‘canoodling’.”

You hear Penelope’s kitten heels clacking against the floorboards before you see her. “Doesn’t mean you’re not doing it,” she sings. Her arms wrap around your shoulders from behind.

You groan. “Penny, you know I love you, but what are you doing here?”

“I got lonely,” she says, and her expression is so genuine that you can’t even bring yourself to be upset with her. “Just wait…”

Leaning over you to press the escape button, she exits out of full screen mode and points to the corner of the screen. When you read the number she’s showing you, your breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

“Would you look at that?” Emily laughs. “It’s gone up.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. And once more, for good measure. “Six-hundred-and-fifty thousand people have seen that?”

It all starts to make sense. The texts, the calls, the stares, the team’s behavior…you don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. On the bright side, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing that could get you fired. But more than half a million people have seen you practically mooning over your boss.

Emily makes a noncommittal noise. “Half of them were probably Garcia. And a good twenty-five or so were us, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” You resist the urge to slam your head against the desk. You’ll have to settle for burying it in your hands instead. “Six hundred and…fuck. And they all think–?”

“—That you’re in love with our boss? And that he’s in love with you? Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.” “They think that, too,” says JJ, sounding sympathetic. If it weren’t for the frankly dastardly smile on her face, you’d think she was on your side.

Picturing the general population witnessing you make an idiot of yourself is bad enough. How do you even conceptualize that many people? How many stadiums could you fill solely with people who have seen you head over heels for your boss? Even worse is the thought of Anderson, or your parents, or – God forbid – even Strauss having seen it. You’ll be suspended. Fired. Or, even worse, be called into a mediated meeting with Hotch and HR, where they’ll ask him if you’ve been making him feel uncomfortable. 

Emily’s voice pulls you from your shame spiral. “And there’s more, too.”

This world hates you. You’re certain of that as she opens Twitter, putting “FBI agents” into the search bar and bombarding you with hundreds, maybe thousands, of tweets with your image attached. Some are disturbingly sweet. Others poke fun at how obvious you are, and even more disturbingly, seem to think your feelings are reciprocated. That’s not a mental path you can allow yourself to go down. 

“So…” You say after a long ten minutes. “What do we do?”

Footsteps, then Rossi appears at the stop of the stairs. “You go back to work. Your break’s over.”

He’s lucky you’re so fond of him. Had it been anyone else (save maybe one person) to disrupt your shame spiral, you’d have been furious. More than furious. You’re still a little irritated now.

There was nothing wrong with his fucking chair. 

—

Your mission is simple. Avoid. Deny. Deflect. The rest of your afternoon drags along in a blur of paperwork and teasing comments you choose to ignore (mostly courtesy of Morgan — JJ and Emily have decided you’re nearing your breaking point and vow to leave you alone). 

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough. Even when it does, there’s no reprieve. Reid turns out to be the one to betray you as everyone else packs up to leave, their files in his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers. To his credit, he looks like he means it.

“Judas,” you hiss back, but you stand and take the reports from him anyway. 

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “Going somewhere special?” 

You flip him off, muttering something under your breath that sounds just a little like “your funeral”. 

The stairs to Hotch’s office feel much longer and much steeper than usual. At every step you reconsider. Reid’s probably still heading for the elevator now. If you catch him, you can guilt him into doing this instead. But your thoughts carry you close enough for Hotch to spot your approach through the blinds. He rises from his desk, opening the door before you can even reach for the handle. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes. “Hi.”

Stepping aside to let you inside, he says your name, and it sounds so warm coming from his mouth. You wonder if he knows about your newfound fame, too. He seems to be focusing his stare directly between your eyebrows. 

“I just came to drop these off.” 

As if your words aren’t explanation enough, you hold up the files for him to see.

“Thank you.” Hotch reaches out to take them, and you feel his fingers brush yours as he does. He stops before the exchange is over. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

It won’t be long now before the sun sets. It’s making its final play for glory now, golden light filtering through the window and settling over Hotch’s face. Hints of amber tones surface in his eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, making him appear much softer than usual. Safer.

You sigh. “I think some people got a little more out of that press release in Georgia than we intended them to.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You know about that?”

You wouldn’t half mind if a wormhole opened up, right there in his office, and transported you to another universe where you don’t even have to think about this moment ever again.

“I do.” He winces. “Garcia’s computer system is the most secure in the FBI, but she doesn’t have an inside voice.”

The dry comment shocks a laugh out of you. “No, she doesn’t. But…it’ll die down, right? No one is actually going to believe that. Us being together would be—”

“Unprofessional,” Hotch supplies after a beat. “Very unprofessional.”

He reaches backwards to put the files you’ve given him on his desk, somehow managing to do so without actually taking a step away from you. If anything, he gets a little closer. 

“Exactly. Strauss would kill us if we even thought about it,” you say, “Not that we would, I’m just…”

Now he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. You swear his pupils are dilated, that he slips for just a half-second and lets his attention drift down to your lips. “There’d be a lot of paperwork.”

You nod. “Too much, really. You’ve got enough already. It’d also be…”

“…Nice.”

Hotch stops breathing, lips downturned in a frown. You’re sure you’ve heard him wrong. But half a minute passes, and he doesn’t retract his statement, though he looks as if he’s close to doing so.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He’s close enough you catch a hint of his cologne, and the woody scent of it makes your head spin. 

“I can say it again,” he says through a long exhale, searching your face for any sign of discomfort as he takes another step closer. His breath ghosts your neck. “Or we can forget this ever happened.”

Your answer is almost immediate. “Let’s not do that.”

Hotch tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. You lean upwards to meet him halfway in a kiss that is soft and tentative, the sort that promises everything and asks for nothing in return. One of your hands cups his jaw, and both of his find their way home to your waist, rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. You smile against his lips. He leans forward as if to chase yours when you pull away.  It hits you, now, that this is really happening. The months you've been agonizing over this - whether to make a move or to shut the part of you that cares for him away - have led you here. There's much you've got to think over: what this means for both of your careers, the risk to the team's dynamic, whether it'll even work in the long run, if Hotch wants that too. You know he's thinking the same thing; his face adopts the same mask of concentration it always does when he's considering something. You take a deep breath. It might be hard, but does that stop it from being worth a shot? In the end, you don't think it does.

“I think I’m gonna order takeout tonight,” you say quietly. “There’s a really good Thai place down the street from me.”

Hotch clears his throat. “That sounds nice.”

Shaking your head, you rest both hands on his shoulders, laugh at him. “That was my way of asking you if you wanted to join me.”

“Oh.” 

His brow furrows. For a terrible moment, you think he’s about to say no. And then, “Haley has Jack tonight. I…I’d like that.”

You beam, pull back, and head towards his desk to find a pen and a scrap bit of paper. “Here’s my address.” A quick glance down into the bullpen, which is thankfully empty. “Give it ten minutes, then follow me?”

“Okay,” Hotch says. Even you can tell he’s grinning like an idiot, and you make a note of the rare expression. “Okay. I’ll see you soon?”

Squeezing his hand, you kiss his cheek and walk towards the door. “Soon.”

You feel his eyes on you until you reach the elevator.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I've watched a lot more Dharma and Greg than CM, lately, so I have a feeling that my version of soft!Hotch is currently just a grownup version of Greg Montmgomery????

[sanatomis]

content. fluff, mentions of nudity, usage of celsius (the only correct way of measuring temperature iktr).

it’s an unwritten rule in your relationship with satoru that you two must sleep skin-to-skin. it doesn’t matter if the room is -4 degrees or if it’s nearing 32. you’re bare—partly or fully—and you lay touching the other. on some days, you lay chest to chest, on others you’re spooning each other (satoru is mostly the little spoon, but on rare days he switches it up), and on others it’s merely your pinkies intertwining as you two sleep peacefully during the night.

some part of you, no matter if it’s big or small, has to be touching him. actually touching him. without the barrier of infinity, that keeps him from touching the world in its entirety. and without the barrier of clothing, that keeps him from touching you—from truly touching you. the two of you need to feel each other, to feel the other on your skin and know that they’re here and that they’re real.

to be so vulnerable together, and to have absolutely nothing separating the two of you. it’s just you, and it’s just him. and suddenly the world doesn’t seem all that bad.

. . .yeah, sleeping skin-to-skin is an absolute must.

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Castle in the sky AU ahoy

This belongs with that first chapter of the CitS AU that i posted last week

Just a first look at the guy

Its just a little side project for comfort

[its-not-sof]

feels like

mark smut + fluff (virgin!reader)

It wasn’t your fault you didn’t check the weather forecast that morning before you left for work.

As you stared up at the dark, angry sky, you contemplated the easiest way to get into your apartment building unscathed by the pelting rain. Instead of making a run for it, you sulked in your car, letting out a frustrated sigh.

You suddenly felt your phone buzz, and the face of your newly acquired boyfriend lit up the screen.

“Mark?” You answered his call, a hint of desperation evident in your voice.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Usually you’re back by now, so I already let myself in.”

You smiled warmly. It had only been a few months since you’d started officially seeing each other, but you felt so drawn to him immediately. He made you feel loved, safe and so happy. It was almost like a spare copy of your apartment key had just spontaneously made itself and appeared in your hands for you to give to him last week.

And boy, were you glad for it right now.

“Mark, can you do me a huge favor? I need you to grab my umbrella and bring it out to the parking lot. I’m going to get so soaked on my way in.”

Mark laughed.

“Of course, just give me a second, okay?”

Within moments, your boyfriend came into view, holding your travel umbrella precariously over his head in the windy storm. You steeled your nerves and quickly threw open your car door, taking off into a run towards him. Mark smiled and laughed, amused at your urgency.

“It’s just a little rain, Y/N,” he joked, calling out to you before you landed in his waiting arms.

Even your desperate sprint wasn’t enough to save you from getting drenched, your dripping clothes and skin clinging to your boyfriend’s jacket. When he stood for a moment without moving, you pushed against his chest.

“What are you waiting for, get inside!” You urged, huddling as close as possible to him.

Mark laughed again and pulled you close, teasingly hovering the umbrella just out of your reach for a moment before returning it over your head.

———

“If I catch a cold, it’s going to be your fault,” you huffed, ringing out your soaked hair in the kitchen sink. “From now on, I’m revoking your ‘holding the umbrella’ privileges.”

Mark smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek,

“You know I’ll be here to take care of you,” he mumbled. “No promises on changing my umbrella technique, though.”

You playfully swatted at his arms, laughing as he quickly tickled at your sides before releasing you to resume your work.

It had taken you a moment to remember that your clothes were completely soaked through. The drenched garments clung to your figure, and your white shirt became particularly see-through.

You turned to face Mark, finding him staring at you intently. You met his gaze and found the most adorable blush dust across his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t mind me— just enjoying the view,” he murmured.

Now it was your turn to blush. You had never undressed in front of Mark before. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d never done before. But the way he looked at you and the way the flirtatious comment rolled so easily off his tongue made you want to try.

Mark sensed something off in your reaction, and immediately backpedaled.

“You should get changed, love. You’re really going to get sick if you keep those on,” he said, a comforting smile gracing his features.

You felt a feeling of boldness bubble up inside your chest. You sucked in a quiet breath.

“Do you… want to help me take these off?” You whispered, letting your eyes meet his and impart your desires where your words lacked. Mark’s eyes widened in return, eyebrows raised at your sudden boldness.

“I mean, yes… yes please,” he purred. His tone shifted, only slightly to one of gentle concern. “Are you sure?”

You held his gaze, without faltering.

“Yes,” you breathed, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. “God, yes.”

Mark instantly pulled you impossibly closer, tangling his fingers in your wet hair, kissing you back with a fervent desire. His hands trailed down your back, brushing against your spine. You weren’t sure if your shivers were because of the cold, or the way his skin made contact with your bare back.

You pulled away only slightly, looking him in the eyes again.

“Can we do this in my room? I just— I’ve never—“ you sighed. “I’ve never done this before,” you admitted.

Mark smiled sweetly, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pressed another kiss to your lips. “Yes,”he took your hand, allowing you to lead him down the hallway.

You pushed open your door, turning to face him before crashing against his lips again. You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping your enthusiasm would make up for your lack of experience.

Mark took the lead, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling gently before reaching for your waist again.

His nimble fingers slipped underneath your soaked shirt, sliding it up slowly. You pulled away for a moment to help him rid you of the wet garment. Mark’s eyes fell to your lace bra, perfectly showcasing your soft breasts. He let out a gentle puff of air before he reached for them gently.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, okay?” He whispered sincerely, gingerly caressing your skin. You nodded and placed your hands on top of his, guiding them to your chest.

Mark’s hands cupped your breasts, slowly massaging them and quickly finding your sensitive peaks through the lace. You let out a soft sigh as he began to tease them between his fingers.

“Mark…” you sighed, feeling a warmth begin to form in your core. You pulled him closer to you, and in turn, closer to your bed. He took the hint and pressed your body down into the mattress.

He reached behind your back to unhook the lace garment, and his eyes widened as it fell from your shoulders.

“Y/N… god, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered, thickly.

“Mark, please, I need you so bad,” you responded, placing his hands back on your body.

Mark didn’t waste any more time as he let his fingers stroke your soft skin and attached his lips to your exposed neck. You leaned back and threaded your fingers through his hair, keeping him in place. He sucked hard enough to bruise, soothing your raw skin with the tip of his tongue before continuing down your chest.

He stopped at your perked nipples, looking up at you before taking one into his mouth, sucking and licking at it until he heard you moan.

“Y/N, that is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” he purred. Your face flushed, and you refused to meet his gaze.

“I hope I get to hear that again tonight,” he smiled as he began to lavish the other breast with the same attention.

You felt a slickness begin to blossom between your legs, and suddenly your wet jeans became even more uncomfortable than they were before.

“Please, get these clothes off me,” you begged, scratching lightly at his shoulders.

Mark complied, carefully unzipping your jeans and sliding them down your legs. His fingers brushed against your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He took a moment to take in your beauty— topless, flushed, soaked panties, and pert nipples. He’d never been harder in his life, he thought.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

You felt your heartbeat race as more of your clothes came off, almost entirely exposing yourself to him. You reached forward and slipped your hands underneath his hoodie, urging him to take it off.

He complied, swiftly removing the garment over his head. You immediately pulled him closer, running your hands over his exposed chest and shoulders.

“You’re beautiful too, you know,” you whispered, giggling softly. Mark smiled into your shoulder, leaving kisses there before pulling back to look into your eyes.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me if anything is uncomfortable, or if I’m going too fast, okay? Promise me?”

You nodded, kissing him gently. Mark smiled, and carefully prompted you to spread your legs.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he hummed, softly tracing the outline of your folds through your thin, soaked panties. You shifted your hips slightly, swallowing hard as he found your clit and began to circle it.

Your breathing began to quicken as he continued with his agonizing pace, softly teasing you.

“Mark, please,” you whined, grinding down into his touch. Mark laughed softly.

“Okay, okay,” he cooed. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your thighs, exposing your dripping center.

You felt the urge to close your legs, suddenly embarrassed at him staring so intently at your most intimate area. Mark’s hands gently coaxed your thighs back open.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he murmured.

You shifted again, relaxing your hips and allowing your legs to fall open for him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, soothingly tracing your skin. He began to lower himself down onto the mattress until his lips were inches away from your core.

“Can I?” He requested, soft breaths fanning across your flaring heat.

You nodded quickly, sucking in a shallow breath.

Mark smirked and slowly licked a stripe up your folds.

“A-ah!” You sighed, squirming already at his touch.

Mark eased your thighs over his shoulders and held you in place while he gave a gentle suck on your most sensitive peak.

“M-Mark, oh god,” you jolted at the unfamiliar sensation, but immediately found yourself longing for more.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” He soothed, diving back in with gentle fervor.

You threw your head back onto the pillows as he began to suck and lick mercilessly at your heat, fingers massaging your inner thighs.

A gasp escaped your lips as his tongue began to flicker quickly across your clit, your hips bucking off the mattress. Mark’s hands held you in place, not allowing you to shy away from the pleasure.

Your breaths became ragged and heaving in between long, languid moans. You could almost feel Mark smiling as he kissed and hummed against your sensitive center.

“Mark, I-I’m getting close,” you whispered, locking your legs around his shoulders. You slid you eyes closed and focused on the feeling.

His lips closed around your sensitive peak once more, sucking hard and circling it with the tip of his tongue. The sensations became too much as his mouth pushed you over the edge for the first time.

“M-Mark!” You cried, feeling him tease you through your orgasm as your walls fluttered around his tongue.

Your chest heaved with uneven breaths as you came down from your high. You opened your eyes and saw Mark’s smiling face looking up at you from between your legs, his lips glistening with your release.

“Felt good?” He murmured, gently stroking your thighs. You giggled softly.

“God, yes,” you ran your fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear. “But, I want to make you feel good too, Mark,” you whispered, scratching lightly at his scalp.

Mark’s eyes were gentle yet full of lust. He knew exactly what you wanted from him.

“Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You looked into his eyes and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you promised.

Mark released you from his hold and crawled back up to kiss your neck.

“Okay, love,” he murmured. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

You nodded, pulling him close and tracing your fingers across his bare back. You felt him grind his clothed hips gently across your core, and you felt him.

“Just do it, Mark,” you begged, palming him through his sweatpants.

He hissed as he felt your touch, and his reaction sent another wave of arousal through you.

You quickly freed his length from his clothes, and you tried to hide your intimidated reaction as best you could. He was bigger than you expected.

Mark sensed your hesitation immediately.

“We don’t have to do this now,” he murmured, gently stoking your cheek. You shook your head.

“No, I want to. Please?” You asked, looking up at him with confident eyes. Mark leaned in to kiss you slowly.

“Okay. Please stop me if it hurts, Y/N,” he said. “Promise?”

You caught his lips in another quick kiss.

“Promise.”

Mark nodded and carefully returned to your core, swiping his fingers along your folds before inserting one slowly.

You winced slightly at the unfamiliar sensation but quickly relaxed in his gentle hold.

“You okay?” He asked, gently making a ‘come hither’ motion with his index finger inside your walls.

You gasped, nodding quickly, adjusting to the feeling before he added another finger.

“God, you’re so wet, Y/N…” Mark leaned in close to whisper in your ear as his fingers sped up. You could hear a the faint sound of your arousal coating his digits.

“I’m ready, Mark, I promise,” you huffed, your breathing growing heavy again.

Mark placed a kiss behind your ear and trailed down your neck before removing his hand. A string of your wetness clung to his fingers, and he immediately dragged them across your swollen clit. You squirmed, waiting for him to give you what you really wanted.

“Mark…” you whined, shifting your hips impatiently.

“Alright, pretty girl. Just relax for me, okay?” He murmured, spreading your legs a bit wider and positioning himself at your entrance.

You braced yourself as you felt his tip against your folds. You unconsciously tensed a bit, preparing for the impact.

“Relax,” Mark whispered soothingly, massaging the backs of your thighs. “I got you, okay?”

You nodded and released the tension in your hips.

“Good girl,” Mark purred, feeling your muscles relax.

You hissed at the quick, dull pain as he began to push into you. You couldn’t help the quiet whimper that left your lips as you felt him stretch your entrance for the first time.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?” He asked, running his fingers through your hair and looking deeply into your eyes.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears prickling your vision. Blinking them away, you met his gaze again.

Mark brushed his thumb across your flushed cheek, catching the tears that fell.

“Just a little bit more, you’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Relax and breathe, okay?”

You smiled at him, urging him to continue. He carefully pushed into you again, causing you to let out another whimper.

“I got you, I’m right here, okay?” Mark soothingly stroked your thigh and cupped your cheek, talking you through his every move.

You soon felt his shallow thrusts beginning to bring a slow wave of pleasure to your core, and he slipped a hand down to gently circle your bundle of nerves. You bit your lip and cling to him tightly, your nails digging into his bare shoulders.

“Y/N, you feel so good,” he groaned, losing himself in your tight hold. “Talk to me. What do you need, love?”

Your mouth fell open as he sped up slightly, moving at a still slow but sensual pace.

“I-It feels good,” you cried. “Please, Mark, don’t stop.”

Mark continued his thrusts, holding you close and whispering soft praises in your ear. It wasn’t long until you felt another high approaching.

“I-I’m gonna— I think I’m—“

You moaned softly as your walls fluttered around his length, and simultaneously bringing him to climax along with it.

“Y/N!” Mark cried, pulling out quickly and releasing across your bare stomach.

Mark’s shoulders heaved as he came down from his own high, taking in the sight of you before him. You looked at him and began to laugh.

“Mark… I can’t believe—“ you smiled and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

Mark beamed at you, his eyes full of love.

“You did so well,” he murmured, stroking your cheek and brushing a few stray hairs away from your face. “My beautiful girl. I’m so lucky to love you.”

You giggled at his words, feeling like you were floating on air. Mark got out of the bed and quickly returned with a warm, wet towel, gently cleaning you up.

You couldn’t deny the dull pain that still ached in your core. Mark saw you wince as you shifted your hips slightly, and reached out to massage your inner thighs.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, did it hurt too bad?” He asked, a bit panicked.

You shook your head.

“No, no— it’s not your fault.”

Mark refused to let go of your gaze, not convinced.

“Let me run you a bath, okay? Your hair is still wet from the rain, we should get cleaned up anyway,” he insisted, carefully removing the wet towel.

You nodded. He was right.

“That sounds amazing,” you sighed, smiling at him.

Mark leaned in for another kiss before heading to the bathroom.

You watched him walk away, then pause and turn to look at you before reaching the bedroom door.

“Hey. I love you.”

You smiled, almost giddy.

“Hey. I love you too.”

[milks-thoughts]

Futuer Leo with apprentice reader?

like reader was made his apprentice alongside Casey Jr and people keep comparing the two, how Casey was more mature, how he was stronger physically and emotionally

thankss

I warned y’all, i warned ya it was coming

(shout out to @yanteetle who makes me chuckle every time they react with my angst posts)

summary: Reader just wants to make him proud

TW: death, in detail character death, meaning the POV is dying, murder, reader runs away, reader has a breakdown, the dove is dead. why? cause I killed it, reader just wants to make him proud :(

It Was Not Your Fault But Mine

When Leonardo became the leader of the resistance he expected many things, war? mhm, death? absolutely. it came with the territory. being placed in charge of two preteens, to train them to be able to live in this brutal world? no, he was never expecting you to become his apprentice. He trained you both, but…he couldn’t help but see himself in you. the self he hated. his past, a cocky teenager that thought his older brother would carry everything for him.

You couldn’t help but resent Casey. Why did he get special treatment? You two were on the same patrol where you watched half the patrol get wiped out…and yet, you listened to your mentor, Leonardo, comfort Casey… why didn’t he also comfort you? His gruff voice broke through your thoughts “ You're okay, You're alright. I'll never, ever leave your side- “ you gripped your elbows as your buried your head in your knees “ -I will stay and I will fight. “ his humming filled the space he and Casey were sharing, you weren’t even supposed to be here “ With you, you're okay, you're alright. I'll stay here through the darkest night. All the way, I will fight….with you “ when you heard Leonardo start to leave the space, you quickly left the surrounding area. collapsing onto the floor and sighing, nothing but harsh memories being your company.

When you and Casey were allowed out on serious patrols, you were exploring a apartment building. You entered one door and recoiled at the dead person in the room, you backed up and knocked over a pot which caught the attention of a kraang dog nearby…which alterted its friends… which had them chasing after you and Casey. You both narrowly avoided them by closing yourselves in a apartment, you sheepishly grinned at Casey and he looked down at you with a unimpressed face. You two had waited two hours before Leonardo and a patrol could rescue you two, when he found out what happened…he sighed and walked off. You and Casey followed him back, being able to tell he was going to yell at you two when you got back. You dreaded it, you always ended up crying when Leonardo shouted at you, or, whenever anyone shouted at you.

You sniffled in your room, you didn’t miss how Leonardo’s frame was exhausted looking. He walked past your area and into Casey’s room. You suddenly shot up. “ I’ll make him proud of me. I’ll- I’ll do something impactful. I’ll bring back so much material that he can’t help but notice me! “ pushing out your room, grabbing a bottle of water and a nutrition bar, you left the resistance camp behind. Your eyes hard as you held your weapon tightly. You were going to force him to see you.

It was a horrible mistake. You were doing so good! Being stealthy! but a building crashed over top you, leaving a metal beam through your leg. You collar bones were broken as your weak arms tried to push off the large slab of concrete. realizing you couldn’t…tears started rolling down your face. you didn’t want to die alone…you didn’t want to die here. In the darkness your only companion was your emergency button, it’s blue color that it glowed was illuminating your face. You felt like a old dog, a dog that stopped being useful to your farmer. You whimpered and cried, whispering a small lullaby to yourself “ You're okay, You're alright. I'll never, ever leave your side- “ you gripped the concrete slab as you buried your head in the sand like floor behind you “ -I will stay and I will fight…. “ your humming filled the space, you weren’t even supposed to be here… “ With you, you're okay, you're alright. I'll stay here through the darkest night.- “ your sob echoed through the rubble “ -All the way, I will fight….with you… “ your body started hyperventilating to the best of its ability, the concrete slab feeling so..so heavy. You didn’t want to die alone with your thigh pinned down by a metal bar, by concrete holding down your chest…you wanted your mentor…you wanted…you…

Leonardo’s patrol finally got through the rubble, his hands scrapped and bleeding as he found you, a wail escaping him as he rushed forwards. Pushing the concrete slab you so clearly tried to push off, your scrapped and bleeding hands being a painful reminder how you both struggled with the rubble. He leaned his head down and sobbed when your chest never thudded with a heart beat. He pushed the hair out of your face so carefully and took in your tear streaked cheeks, still damp. Some may say that your death was your own fault. That you should’ve never left because you were jealous. But it was not your fault but his instead. He neglected you and he’ll defend your death and your name, and everything you stood for with his life, because he failed you, like he failed his brothers, like he failed New York…like he failed the world. He’s Icarus and he flew way too close to the sun.

[m-arkmywords]

[boyfriend!mark comforting you after a bad night]

pairing: mark x reader genre: FLUFF, established relationship, r o m a n ce

word count: 603 words - short n sweet warning: weed mention yet again what did u expect?

the ambience of rain mixed with your boyfriend's soft voice filled the room as you rustled in your sleep. your eyes swollen from the night before, you weren't ready to open them just yet. "my baby" he coo'd into the top of your head, making you nuzzle your face further into his chest. finding solace in his musky scent, you felt yourself doze back into slumber.

"it's a new day baby, I'm proud of you" he placed a kiss to your forehead. unable to form sentences in your dreamy state, all you did was hum in response. mark faintly giggled as he pulled you in closer, tighter. as if it was even possible to get any physically closer than this. your bodies were intertwined with one another, chest rising and falling in unison, functioning as one. it felt safe.

as the thunder got louder, you started to shift and groan, slowly regaining consciousness. "I wanna sleep more" you mumbled into his chest. mark ran his hand from your back, to your shoulder and then, down your arm, before grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. he left another soft kiss.

"whatever you need baby, I'm here. I got you." he slipped his fingers between yours and rested your hand onto his chest.

you both laid there for what felt like hours, just listening to the rain. drifting in and out sleep, you kept waking up to peak through your hooded eyes to make sure he was still there. that he was real. "I'm here baby." and he would reassure you every time with a kiss.

after a while, mark slowly peeled your limbs off him and started shifting. the sudden lack of his warmth, made you sulk but he just responded with an endearing laugh. he put a pillow in his place so you could wrap yourself around it and lifted your chin with his fingers to look at him. he placed a kiss on your lips and then all over your face, making you giggle. "I'll be right back baby, drink some water." he handed you a bottle of water as he disappeared into the kitchen, humming a song.

shortly after, the sound of the coffee machine and his soft singing echoed through your apartment, and a wave of calmness washed over you.

it was when you started to smell coffee, you rubbed your eyes and your lips curled into a lazy smile, you sat up. taking some deep breaths, you decided to do some stretches on the bed whilst you waited for mark. the acoustics of the kitchen, added slight reverb to his voice and you found refuge in this. your eyes closed again and your hands found their way to your chest and stomach. you grounded yourself to this moment as you swayed gently to the melody, taking deep breaths. gratitude slowly filled your body.

you opened your eyes and peered out the window. taking in the beautiful trees, also swaying in the thunderstorm. you thought about how bad you felt yesterday and how mark had handled it so well, despite his apparent panic at your crying. you looked out to the skies and silently thanked the universe for your boyfriend. praying that you can reciprocate the same safe space, he has created for you over the years. you felt yourself tearing up again as mark walked back into the room with a mug of coffee and a rolled joint, strategically placed on top.

"good morning sleepy head" he proudly cheesed, handing you the mug. you mirrored his smile back, knowing in this moment, everything was okay.

[pharaohbean]

due to a. number of reasons (including but not limited to breakdowns on multiple bodily levels [emotionally i want to cry but mentally i cannot and therefore i only cry for about 5s physically which is Not Enough]) i am currently seeking fluff (sfw only!!) for my ships (tagged). can be on tumblr or ao3 or whatever- tumblr pls dont let me down /lh

comment or reblog with links or titles! im not afraid to go searching lol

[entomolog-t]

GtWAC Day 5: Underappreciated Fic

I've got two juicy ones for you guys!!

The first is Familiar Demons by the lovely @kitn-underfoot.

Amelia had a little mishap while attempting to summon a familiar.

I am absolutely feral over the snarky lil creature that is Van. His design, attitude and internal thoughts are just perfect. The way Kit writes his actions and thoughts is just so so good. The dynamic between Van and Amelia is just so packed with potential- theres the general one sided sorta-enemies that leads to such sarcastic hostile snark from Van, moments of sweet tender vulnerability, different worlds vibes, and some very interesting premises.

Also - Van's hot.

----

I recently found Too Small to be Afraid by @elizaditton and boy does it deserve some more hype. The premise is super cool- with a size difference integrated society. Just the world building alone piques interest easily.

But its Daniel that really got me hooked. Without spoiling too much, he is a massive sweetheart and kind soul, and it shines through in not only his actions but the dialogue and even just his inability to hide his emotions on his face. The later chapters hit particularly hard when he is a bit more direct in his interactions with Kaylin.

The slowly unfolding lore is quite addicting too! With Kaylin's background and personal hang ups slowly being revealed- along with the slight unease being built up with one of the side characters 👀

There are currently 10 chapters and its ongoing! 💕

[towerartt]

There is something about post-Elpis pre-Jack's ascendency jackothy that is making me soo insane‼️

Timothy is forced to take care of a guy who he had hated from the very beginning, but he has to stick by his side because... why, exactly? Because he signed a contract? Because it seems like the whole universe is after both of them? Maybe he is feeling guilty, like, this should have happened to him. His job was to take the bullets (eridian artifacts?) meant for Jack or whatever. But Jack never really seemed like he needed his protection, that’s the thing. The whole time, he was so stupidly sure of himself. He was also, frustratingly enough, kinda glorious. And maybe Tim resented how cocky he was, and he wished for something to knock him down a peg, right. But, holy shit, not like that.

The mark scares him. He hates aliens, he hates that he doesn’t understand what’s going on, he really hates the way doctors treat Jack. Everybody and their mom want to hook Jack up to some equipment and run tests. Tim doesn’t want to leave him in their hands. They all remind him of Autohn. 

And Jack. Jack hates everything and himself. He keeps thinking about what was promised to him: Hyperion, the Warrior, Pandora, and he knows that, eventually... But for now, his face hurts, and he doesn't feel very heroic. He wants to be victorious NOW he doesn't wanna be in pain! 

And he is non-stop taunted by his unscared face worn by a total stranger. He doesn't even know his name. Recently, his life has been centered around surviving many attempts at his life, and he got betrayed by a bunch of people, so excuse him if he isn’t particularly trusting. He just doesn't get why 21-C sticks around. He must have some kind of underlying motif, but Jack cannot figure it out, which annoys him. Maybe he wants to kill him, but then, what's the hold-up? He should really get on with it.

At least Tim (it does not take much prying to get him to reveal his real name) is a perfect scapegoat to blame all of this on. Lilith is who Jack is truly angry with (understatement of the century), but she is far away, and his doppelganger is right there. If he wants to play nurse, Jack is not going to make it easy on him. 

I just think it is very funny to have Tim try to help Jack all the while that dick does everything in his power to make Lawrence want to strangle him. Timothy is looking over his face, and Jack is like, “So did your mom not love you? You totally act like a guy who wasn’t loved by his mom. Just a casual observation! Don't get your panties in a bunch, jeez.. So, how's the face? Don’t tell me, don't tell me, let me guess. Still screwed up because you couldn’t do your damn job??”

He has Tim pacing around their living room, muttering to himself “I am not the sort of guy to hit an injured man I am not the sort of guy to hit an injured man I am not—”

It is about Jack being humiliated and scared and angry and taking it all out on Lawrence and Tim telling him "it's rotten work. especially to me especially if it's you. I am fucking doing it but christ alive."

[lustytears]

his muse.

basically, this is just a whole written piece dedicated to coriolanus snow and how obsessive he truly is (and toxic.)

(completely based off of that ONE line in the tbosas book where it’s hinted that he liked when lucy gray was in the games bc he was in control)

warnings: blood, kind of too into the obsession, mentions of slight sex (nothing major??) not too proofread, warnings written b4 story was made bc i planned this all out in my head for DAYSSS, snow’s kind of a creep, toxicity, and angst.

For one thing, Coriolanus Snow wasn’t a man of decency. At least, not within. Sure, he was a man of ambition, but could he also be a man of absolute terror.

The same man who was such a powerful and potentially ambiguous young man from the start, was right there in front of you, carefully pulling you towards him like a worm for bait. His eyes were absolutely set on you, the same way a predator’s eyes become captivated by the presence of a prey.

You were his muse. His obsession.

It all started when the two of you met when he was in his junior year at the Academy. A promising young student, acclaimed for his talents and likeminded will, he was locked on his promising future, considering his tragic past filled with nothing but what could be described as pure loss.

You bumped into him whilst walking in opposite directions, dropping all of your belongings. You quickly scrambled to the floor without even bothering to look up at who you accidentally pushed through, before a hand reached down to pick up a pen of yours, observing the simple complexity and design of it.

“Quite the writer?” He asked. Your eyes shot up, your hands still putting stuff back into your bag. “Yes,” you said shyly. “The name is Coriolanus Snow.” He reached down to your level, crouching to his knees. He grabbed ahold of your bag that was on the ground before giving it back to you. The both of you got up. You dusted off your skirt.

“Can I have my pen back?” You held out your hand, waiting for him to place it back into the palm of your hand. “Surely,” he placed it down, the tip of his fingers meeting the skin of your hand, the pen firmly grasped to your palm as you move your arm away from his hand, fingers locked. “Thank you,” you smiled warmly, trying to bear down on your manners. “My name is Y/N L/N. Assuming you’re an upperclassman?” “That would be true,” his eyebrows raised in agreement, the tone of his voice traced with sarcasm. You looked at the fellow students passing through the hallway, moving from class to class before the period started.

“I think I’m gonna have to go, Coryo,” you said politely. His eyes wandered around your face, from your smile to your eyes. “Okay,” he nodded. You walked away, your bag hung around your right shoulder. Your fingertips, on the other hand, played with the pen that Snow borrowed. He watched you walk down the hall, his eyes glued to the way each step corresponds to the other step in rhythm. He viewed your skirt move from side to side as your hips moved in place with your legs. He eyed you until, and finally, you moved down the hallway and turned the corner. He imagined himself smiling, before the thought became reality, and the corners of his cheeks became upward, a forming smile that became apparent on his cold appearance.

Pray tell, why did he become closer? For one thing, Coriolanus Snow is not the type of man to feel affection and love towards his partners. The idea of a vulnerable and loving woman most definitely pleased him, but one that was originally strong, cunning, and brave; three qualities he admired, made him thrilled with all of the lingering ideas of potentially breaking an individual.

And that’s exactly what he wanted to do to you. As cruel as it sounds, he begged himself—no, invited himself to break you. Your plausible act of holding up your “I don’t need your help” act was pleasing, but not when he was alone with you.

Being alone with him was an absolute death wish. If you thought to yourself that originally this man was a lunatic alone, it’s wise to think again. For he was the type of man to pluck out every insecurity you had, convert it to his manipulative mentality, process it, and spit it right back at you.

He had you right at the neck, quite literally. He had you pushed against the wall, his hands gripped against both sides of your neck as he watched pure fear in your eyes ignite, his view apparent in your pupils.

“You’re wise, darling, but not wise enough to outwit me,” his thumb brushed the skin on your neck. You could only react with your mouth parted half open, internally begging for him to let go. You wouldn’t dare speak out—dare even push him physically. That sad attempt would probably just push him further over the edge. “Do you want me dead?”

You stared at the veins that pricked up from underneath his skin on the outermost of his arms. “What?” You said, dumbfounded. Letting go of you, he stepped back, faced turned away from you. He paced back and forth between the limited space in his private room. He looked at you, his hands on his hips. He laughed. At first, the laughter was a mere chuckle, before it became more hysterically louder, and less out of control. He walked back over to you, your back still against the wall, your hands raised to your face, covering yourself.

He grabbed your arms, his grasp light on your skin. You flinched at first, but then you allowed him to push them down. The light in his eyes became more noticeable.

“No matter how hard I try, I still find myself feeling this certain way. This—This feeling,” he exaggerated. “I find myself, strangely, loving you.”

You found the words somewhat hard to swallow. The word he spoke out of his mouth, love, was like the first time seeing the size of a pill when you first received the bottle, the first swallow felt like it was stuck in your throat, a throat that was small and narrow, the pill larger than what you were capable of holding down without it getting stuck in your throat. So, you coughed the word back up. “Love?” “Honest,” he cupped both sides of your face. “Yes.”

Without resistance, he allowed you to move away from him. This time, you moved around the room, regathering your thoughts. That pill was larger than ever. His eyes glanced your movements. You sat down in the armchair, staring at your feet. Perhaps, this was your way of peacefully declaring that you wanted time to think about this, but let’s be honest with ourselves: Snow was not gonna wait for the easy answer.

He walked up to you, pulling you up from your arm, his grasp on you more harder than before. He looked into your eyes, before he moved down to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Okay,” you said without thinking of anything about him potentially being honest with you, apologizing with true intention. He leaned in to kiss you, before he pulled back a little, carefully examining every slight facial expression to make sure it was okay, before he locked his lips with yours.

At first, it was almost like you refused to rhythmically move with his lips, which caused him to become more starved and more aggressive with the kiss. You finally allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth, his lips attached to yours. You gave in, allowing him to express every little feeling he had in this very moment. It slightly reminded you of all the good times, the first time you met, the time you gave your purity to him like it was an offering, the time you kissed him, the times he took all of his anger either onto you or into you.

Is this what you imagined? Him making out with you like he was starved, longing for desperate attention of this one-sided love? Disappointingly, the answer was yes. You waited for this, born to wait for this, this love; returned like a dream. For now? It was hopefully the only peaceful way he could express his feelings to you.

Selfishly, he knew one thing: if he lost you, he’d make sure everyone suffered for it. He would make sure they bled every artery out before they even sympathized with his misery. Whether the loss be hypothetical is up to him. He just knows that he wants to keep you here, all for himself, displayed like a movie that keeps playing over and over on the TV.

He bit your lip, causing it to bleed slightly. The taste of oxidizing, metallic blood sampled your tongues. It only made him more excited, his hands moved to your hips as he used them for control. He pushed you to the couch, his lips moving with yours. He knew right there, that you were all his. His muse.

————————

(might write a part 2 with literal SEXXX because i feel like the smut with my dear 8 inches of snow on top is a bit… dry. i think my draco malfoy one turned out amazing so i’ll give it a go again. it’s really nice to see that people enjoy my writing, considering this was mainly a way to cure my boredom over thanksgiving break. oh well, guess it’s time to start my grind.)

(p.s. i hope this didn’t seem too fast paced. it took me like half an hour to write this all together, so it may seem a bit wonky, but i hope the story checks out.)

[az-cain]

Finally.

robert “bob” floyd x reader ≈ 873 words

i love him so much

—

The Navy wasn’t your first career choice. That would have been working as a civilian pilot. But flight school was expensive, and you’d jacked around for the first three years of high school: by the time the panic of having no future set in, you had a 2.6 GPA and a shitty track record.

No good colleges were going to take the likes of you, but the US military? Shit, with your ASVAB score? Who cares about the low grades and the fights?! As soon as you were out of high school, you enlisted with the guaranteed job (again, thanks to your ASVAB) of becoming an aviation mechanic for the United States Navy.

Now, sitting pretty as a Lieutenant after working your ass off to go through college, pushing through officer and flight training, then Top Gun, all on the Navy’s dime, you were walking back into the Hard Deck, where you’d spent most of your time at Top Gun. You were suddenly surrounded by other pilots, all of you called back for some mission that required only the best of the best: two blonde men playing pool, some odd rivalry between the two glinting in their eyes; a dark-haired woman who you knew to be Phoenix watching them from beside two other men; a boy you’d known since high school observing silently from his chair, eating peanuts and avoiding the alcohol.

You froze under the warm, flickery bar lights. Robby, as you remembered him, was a gangly teenager, not quite grown into his own body, with glasses too big for his face. Now, he was no teenager, and while he’d grown into his body, his glasses were still a bit big. You hadn’t seen him since he graduated and, well, those service khakis definitely fit him better than his old hoodies and jeans. The two of you had always been fairly close, but only in the way a sheepdog and his sheep are— various people had always loved hurting Robby, and you’d always loved kicking their asses for it.

Eventually they had stopped, and so your contact with Robby had faded away. You would wish every night that you had some way to talk to him again, but your teenage self didn’t want to seem weird just approaching him randomly, so you just stayed away, watching and longing from a distance.

Now here he was in front of you, eating peanuts from a cup and watching these douchebags play pool. God, what were the chances? You woke up suddenly, your body unfroze, and you took a shuddering breath before approaching him, much like you were seeing a ghost.

“Robby?” You whispered, hardly audible over the jukebox, even to you.

Somehow, he had heard it, and his head flicked around to you. Shock landed on his face, then confusion. You watched his eyes scrunch up in disbelief as he scanned your nameplate, then he murmured your name in question. His eyes flitted back up to yours as you nodded.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” you said quietly, fiddling with your fingers like a schoolgirl.

He stood up briskly, brushing the remnants of some peanut off of his pants with red cheeks. “Me neither.” You watched him swallow. “Missed you.”

You took a shaky breath and nodded, cautiously reaching out a hand to gesture for a hug. He ducked his head into your shoulder immediately, murmuring quietly how much he missed you, how he regretted never saying hello again. The metal of his glasses crushed into you, so you pulled back for a few seconds, just long enough to pull them off his face and fold them into your palm as he nuzzled back into you. You squeezed him tight again, blinking back the tears as you whispered your agreement.

After what felt like ages, he pulled back and stood to his full height. With just inches between you, he stood much taller than you and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. Your arms remained wrapped around his shoulders, and suddenly you remembered his glasses. The frames clattered as you opened them, drawing your arms back and beckoning him down to your level. He giggled as he stooped and the sound sent butterflies through you. The glasses slipped easily onto his face, but you let your hands rest on his cheeks.

He didn’t pull away. He seemed perfectly content to stay right where he was. Your heart rate spiked and your chest wrenched, giggles ripping through you. A smile split his face, and he did something neither of you thought him capable of.

He leaned in. His lips met yours oh-so-carefully, just barely pressing against them. After a moment of shock, you wrapped your arms back around him and kissed him back, your lips working against his. He hummed in surprise, hands slipping into your hair as he tilted his head. His nose brushed your cheek and glasses brushed your brow. You pulled back after a moment, rubbing your thumbs along his jaw.

“I- uh,” he tilted his head down and cleared his throat, “I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”

A smile spread across your face as you nodded and leaned your forehead against his. “I have too.”

[kelin-is-writing]

how would dabi react if his s/o got sick? like just a cold or a fever so nothing major but i image our poor baby would freak out 😢

- 🥛

dabi x fem!reader

he wouldn’t let it show openly, if not for the frown that makes his forehead crease and the worried gaze that only you can detect, but inside dabi is worried sick because the fever doesn’t seem to want get down despite you taking your medicines, staying warm and resting. he didn’t knew anymore what to do honestly, the sight of you in pain or unwell was genuinely hard to bear for dabi.

as he sat at your bed’s edge he took the thermometer and saw that the temperature was still at 39.7 degrees he looked at you pale; after tucking you in dabi glanced at the clock on the wall seeing that it still took some hours before you could take your medicine, so he grabbed the glass of water on your bedside table handing it to you saying that it’s better to keep yourself hydrates.

when he sees that you can’t even stand properly, dabi moves right beside you and puts an arm around your shoulder helping you slowly to raise your upper body, then he brings the glass to your lips and watches carefully as you drink it making a relieved expression afterwards as the cool beverage soothes your burning throat “you’re sweating, i think it’s better if you dry up and change your clothes.”, he advises moving the blanket and standing up so you can get off bed more easily. he holds out an hand for you to take so to help you stand without falling and starts undoing the buttons of your pajamas’ blouse, you start burning up for another reason and grab his wrists looking up at him flustered while telling the boy you can do it alone, he refuses saying that you’re to weak to even stand properly without having your legs shake like the ones of a newborn deer. so in the end not only dabi has changed you, but he also dried your body with a cool towel and finally put you to bed, demanding gently for you to take off the cold patch attached to your forehead to replace it with a new one.

after he feeds you some porridge and gave you your medicines, he changes into some spare clothes left here after his many visits and then tells you to scoot over so he can get in bed with you resting an arm onto the cushion for your to rest your head on, while his other one is around your waist to hold you closer. his eyes fixes into yours intensely and with worry shining into their depth “if there’s anything wrong or you feel any discomfort, tell me right away okay?”, you nod while looking at him mesmerized by that side of your boyfriend before snuggling against his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head and fall asleep like that.

[fingons-rad-harp]

Like a White Fire Within (Warlord Maedhros AU) Chapter 3

Russandol looked at him blankly. “Finno, we are already married.”

Findekáno laughed. “Yes, but no one knows that. All we must do is have a ceremony, renew our vows, and our succession crisis is over!”

Russandol’s brows were still furrowed. “You suggest that we should both rule? As… otararánu?”

“Indeed. Who should object? Our fathers? They are both dead.” Findekáno managed to keep the grief out of his voice, though he was sure Russandol could feel it over their bond.

“My brothers—Makalaure knows about us, but the rest—”

“Your brothers, arimelda, will do whatever you ask of them. I would be more worried about Turukáno, should he ever reappear.”

Russandol pressed his lips together into a thin line. “It cannot be sudden. We must have a proper period of engagement. If you return to Hiþilóme married to me of all people, many will think I forced you into it.”

Findekáno snorted. “No one will think that. My feelings for you are well known. But I agree that an engagement period would be best.”

“It will lessen the scandal, at least. But there will still be one.”

He smiled. “To think that we were wed in secret in Valinóre because we feared such a thing. We did not know the meaning of fear, then.”

Russandol’s face darkened. “No, we did not.”

[talknerdytome18]

That feeling to write a fluffy Seblos oneshot is consuming me right now but the problem is that I've been pure angst since I started writing so writing fluff is impossible for me 😭

Seblos stans, I promise that I will write a fluffy oneshot because I feel bad for massacring Carlos's character in my current fanfic series. I stan Carlos Rodriguez and just want to write a fluffy piece to make up for destroying Seblos like s4 did.

[hiscleric]

SURPRISE !!!!!

yeah... uh, i’m just as shocked as u are!! if u told blythe this morning that they would be dropping a 12k word domestic fluff college au fic i would have LAUGHED in your face !!

long story short; this fic has been in the blythe archives since november, and because i felt bad that chapter two of with honor, we hound is taking a bit longer than expected, i thought i could post something to hopefully make the wait a little bit easier !! the majority of this fic was done already, so i spent this afternoon finishing it off to make it publishable. 

i hope u enjoy !!!!!!!!!! lmk what u think !!!!!!!!!!!