#he misses gentle touches and the ability to be gentle with himself; and he wants just once for someone to choose him

[comfortscripts]

The Way I Love You ¬ Coriolanus Snow

Plot - All you want is one night with Corio, the real him. Pairing - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Best Friend!Female!Reader Notes/Warnings - Corio is ooc in this, but the idea is that he is slightly hinged for her and he is aware of his redflags. Possessive? Mentions of deaths. Reader is lowkey just blind to Corio's darkness. First fic back so let's see how it goes! Word Count - 1,443

9pm

“You promised!”

“And when exactly did I promise this?”

He watched as her fists clenched the corners of her skirt, breath dripping with exasperation. Calmly watching from the comfort of his leather chair, nursing a glass of amber whilst his eyes followed the milky fabric adorning his best-friend’s figure. Almost 30 minutes of her attempting to convince him to leave his opaque penthouse.

“Last year, when you were too busy on my birthday, you promised me that I could choose whatever I wanted to do for one da-” Stilling her movements, frozen as realisation washed over her. “You sneaky fucker! Not once have you forgotten a promise between us.”

Corio wanted to laugh as her face scrunched with faux anger, but all he did was cock his eyebrow as a gentle smirk settled on his lips. “Of course, I didn’t forget. However, this little song and dance has been quite amusing.”

Resting his drink to the side, he rose to full height and reached his delicate hand out towards the girl. “I will agree, purely on the premise that nothing we do could harm either of our reputations.”

A smile brighter than freshly fallen snow crept onto her face.

“You have my word.”

1am

Corio may have noticed the ache in his legs if he didn’t have such a captivating distraction hanging from his bicep. After aimlessly strolling through the Capitol, the myriad of hues illuminating their faces as they spoke of the most mundane aspects of their adult lives to giggling at memories of their youth. Having known one another since the tender age of 10, there is little left unsaid between the pair. Perhaps only one thing.

“I’ve missed you Corio”

Shifting his head to where her figure was pressed against his side, their tandem steps slowed. Only those who understood the inner works of Coriolanus Snow could see the cogs turning behind those azure eyes. Flickering across her face, attempting to decode her words.

“Don’t be silly. We see each other constantly; your office is barely 20 steps from mine.”

 The young woman bit back a sigh. In all the years she had known Snow, he excelled in many things but struggled with matters of the heart. “No, I see Coriolanus Snow constantly. Future President of Panem, prodigy Gamemaker. I can barely remember the last time I had a conversation with the real you, Corio, before tonight.”

Stilling completely, allowing her arm to slip from the loop of his. It was a rare occurrence for the young man to be devoid of words, only having ever been rendered speechless by the very same woman only a touch away. In all truthfulness, he yearned for her presence. He longed for the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with delight when indulging in dessert, her uncanny ability to understand his thoughts, and most importantly, the way she allowed him to be himself.

He missed her too.

Perhaps it was his silence, or perhaps it was the cool air that unsettled her. Bubbles of anxiety began to rise in her stomach, fearing that she had overstepped or somehow offended the blond. “I only mean that you have sides to you. Whilst I like all of them, the one I care about most is the real you. I’m sorry, but I miss my best friend.”

“I barely know the real me anymore.”

It was truth. Being betrayed by Lucy Gray, the blood on his hands, the character he has had to play since; it was exhausting. The darkness swirling inside of him corrupting his daily thoughts, paranoia and greed clouding his mind. It was all too much to expose to her.

She embodied life, a breath of fresh air in a world torn apart by capitalism and violence. Coriolanus could never understand why she cared for him, why she befriended him. But he could never jeopardise losing her. The darker side of him wishes to lock her up in the Penthouse, so her sun only shines for him. Keep away the prying eyes of men who wish to glimpse the sweetness of her smile. But alas, he cannot. An innocent fragment of his soul forbids his darkness from tainting her, even if he must create distance to do so.

“After all that has happened, the Corio you know barely exists anymore.” Those stormy eyes refusing to meet her gaze by fixating on the gleaming silver ring adoring his finger. “If only you knew, you wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The warmth of her hand sliding into his captures his focus. “If only I knew about what happened during the games? If only I knew about Lucy Gray, and those people you killed? If only I knew how dark your soul feels? I know Corio.”

Snapping to meet her gaze, he feels as if she had knocked the air out of his lungs. How could she possibly know? Why would she be standing here with him? Was she going to hold this over him? A flurry of thoughts stormed behind his eyes, as she only tightened her hold on his large hand.

“Did you really think you could lie to me? I know you better than I know myself. When you came back from District 12, I could see behind those lies you were spewing. I saw the hurt she caused, the trauma you had witnessed, and how it broke the light inside of you.”

For the second time tonight, Coriolanus was speechless. Perhaps she didn’t know whose blood coats his hands, or the exact details of what happened those years ago, but she knew enough. And she was still standing there in front of him.

“And you still care about me?”

“I will always care about you Corio.  Now come on, I want to take you somewhere!”

And with that, she pulled him further into the night.

2:45am

Neither of them had uttered a word since their conversation.

Laid side by side on the refreshing emerald blades of grass as they look towards the stars above, only their subtle breathing filling the air. Despite the silence, the interlocked fingers expressed a thousand words.

A hitched breath broke the still atmosphere of the hilltop.

“Do you love me?”

Her words stopped his heart mid-beat.

“What? Of course, I love you. You are my best friend.” His words flow smoothly, as his thoughts run erratically to concoct the perfect lie.

The grass shuffles as she turns her head to face him. “No, do you love me like I love you?”

Corio continues staring straight towards the constellations, knowing that her alluring eyes could weaken his resolve in mere seconds.

“Because the way I love you is more than someone who loves a best friend. Almost as if you are the only person who makes my heart dizzy with joy. If you don’t love me the same way, it’s okay. Just needed to finally tell you.”

The breeze acts as a ticking clock, emphasising the lack of response from the young man and amplifying the anxiety building in the woman as she faces the stars once more.

Its almost too quiet to be heard, a whisper in the wind, but she hears it clearly. “I do love you the way you love me.”

Turning in unison to face one another, his free hand reaching to caress the toasty skin of her cheek.  Gentle strokes of his chilled fingers, drawing without destination on her skin as the blond builds the courage to speak once more.

“The way I love you terrifies me. You are the only one who brings me happiness, the only one who knows my sorrows, the only one I would sacrifice for. I obsess over you. I want to hold you and protect you. I wish to possess you. All because I love you the way you love me.”

Searching his irises for any fragment of dishonesty, her smile grows as she finds none. Inching closer to the man who has held her heart for a decade, his minty breath invading her senses.

With lips mere millimetres apart, a light whisper leaves her mouth “I’ll be yours Corio, for as long as you are mine. We can possess one another.”

As if those were the only words he ever craved, he intertwined his lips with hers. Soaking in the feeling of ecstasy as his hold on her tightens. She embraced the overwhelming sensation of complete bliss, revelling in every single second as her fingers interlock with his porcelain-locks.

Her lips fit with his so perfectly, it was clear that they were made to possess each other. And now that Panem’s king had his Queen, nothing could break him.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #president snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #tbosas #tom blyth x reader

[inkbybambi]

bar owner!john price kisses you under the mistletoe —

words: 4.9k rating: e warnings: fem!reader, praise kink/praises, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, pet names, biting/marking, finger sucking, size kink, john steals your panties, please let me know if i missed anything. this has been edited to the best of my ability. notes: this is my contribution to @bunnyreaper's call of duty secret santa exchange and is dedicated to @a-very-bored-blogger ♡ my blog and all my works are 18+ so minors dni. proper warnings have been provided.

being the boss’s favorite has its perks.

you’re the first to try new spirits and brews he orders for the bar. he doesn’t bother trying to hide his snort of amusement each time your face scrunches up when something tastes particularly awful.

you try to hide your blush when he delicately takes the glass from your hand, fingers briefly touching, throwing back the rest of the drink without flinching.

smug bastard always winks after.

you’re the only one allowed to lounge in his office on your lunch, even when he’s not there. you ignored the pointed looks from the others when he first gave you the key. it dangles on a pink, heart-shaped carabiner. there’s a drawer of snacks and a mini-fridge that’s always stocked for you. a pile of your books are stacked on his desk with his other papers, most of them he gifted himself.

you never see the way his cheeks go pink every time you read one of the books he chose.

you’re the only one allowed to take the beanie off his head. sometimes he puts it there himself. soap tried it once and never again after his hand got thwacked with a wet dish rag.

your favorite perk?

the way he lingers when you’re the one closing, always nearby as you wipe down the counters and dry the glasses. the gentle press of his palm at the small of your back when he maneuvers around you; when he hands you something you’ve asked for and his eyes glitter when you say thank you; the soft touch at the nape of your neck when you’re finally done and tucking the rag away, gently guiding you to the door.

sometimes he walks you home. sometimes he drives you. you’ve begun to look forward to it now.

lately — more often than not — you find yourself hiked up on the counter, john standing between your legs, radiating heat like a furnace, his big hands cupping your face as his tongue slides deep into your mouth, tasting you and swallowing your soft whines.

he always tastes like cigars, which you complained about at first, but now you couldn’t care about when his fingers thread though your hair, tipping your head to the side so he can slide his mouth along the line of your throat, beard scratching your skin.

he’s careful to not leave any marks. but each time his teeth skim the column of your throat, he presses sharper, harder.

you want him to bite you.

everyone assumes you two are fucking anyway.

he said he’d walk you home. 

twenty minutes ago.

he pulls away, leaving you breathless, pressing his nose against your cheek. you close your eyes and lean into him, lightly scratching at the base of his skull.

“should get you home,” he rumbles low in his chest, voice like gravel. it makes you ache.

you can’t say much apart from a small hum of agreement, not wanting to leave the warmth of his body.

he doesn’t make any effort to pull away either.

his lips drag from your cheek to your jaw, nipping at the hinge before soothing it with his tongue. you shudder on an inhale, waiting for what’s next.

“let me get your bag,” he murmurs, voice still soft as if he doesn’t want to shatter the calm that’s settled over you two, like a veil of gossamer protecting you from the outside world.

with one last, slow kiss, he leaves to gather your bags, slipping his beanie on your head and walking you out. 

he clicks the lights off.

no matter how many times or how often you find yourself wrapped in winter’s cold embrace of snow and icy wind, you hate it. 

you like it from the inside. with a warm drink of whatever — sometimes spiked, if you’re feeling cheeky — and blessedly not outside. 

this is your first christmas with the bar — with the boys — and john invited you to help decorate for the season. 

this is your first time feeling like you belong somewhere. the boys have been together for years now, as you’ve learned over your time with them, but they took you in and made you feel welcome from the very start. 

you, however, felt awkward the first couple shifts, as to be expected. one night, about a week settling into the job, you stood up to a particularly rowdy client — gaz and soap minding the bar with you, exchanging glances with each other and keeping an eye on the situation; simon and john lingering around the billiard tables with some regulars, also with an eagle eye on you. you didn’t back down to his crass attitude and sharp words, damn near throwing the lime you were cutting at his face. a tense moment or so passed before he submitted, mumbling an apology and throwing a twenty pound note on the bar along with the rest of his tab, slinking to a seat in the back. 

closing the bar a few hours later, soap handed you a shot of something gross with a proud smirk on his face, gaz excitedly talking with you, relaying the moment with vigor, his eyes sparkling with amusement as if you were some sort of superhero. simon, far more subdued than the others and wearing his skull-painted balaclava, simply gives you a nod of  approval as he raises a glass to you.

that was the first night john kissed you. 

you’ve felt at home ever since. 

snow flurries cling to your lashes as you trudge through layers of snow, scarf wrapped up around your nose and john’s beanie pulled down as much as possible. 

you tried to return it last night before he left, but he insisted on you keeping it. you’re grateful for that now, stuffing your hands as deep into your pockets as possible, hating the way the wind bites so fiercely, it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all — bones and blood turning to ice.

ten excruciatingly cold minutes later, you stumble into the bar, shaking yourself off like a wet dog and stomping your boots to dislodge the snow clinging to the sole. some of it buried into the back of your boot while walking, and you try not to make a face when your socks feel damp.

“there she is!” comes soap’s cheerful call, standing behind the bar with a cardboard box in front of him. 

you unravel yourself from the scarf and dust off the beanie from the last of the snow, wiggling your fingers as you make your way over so you can start feeling them again. john turns to look at you with a warm smile, and you flush under his attention. simon accepts a glass from gaz, tipping it towards him in thanks. gaz passes glasses to john and soap next, finally setting one down at the seat next to john — intended for you, as he gives you a knowing smirk, which you pointedly ignore with a roll of your eyes — and sipping from his own as he settles next to soap. 

“what’s this?” you ask, taking a sip. 

“that’s a gin and tonic, love,” gaz replies easily, and you give him an unamused look. 

“i meant the box,” you clarify, as soap chuckles and uses a box cutter to open it, taking out a sheet of paper and reading over it with a soft smile on his lips. 

“this,” he says, pulling a knit sweater from the box and checking the sticky note on the front, handing it to john, “is tradition.” 

you take a healthy sip — gaz uses a heavy hand —and watch as he continues to pull the sweaters from the box, handing one to simon and then gaz. he takes another from the box, resting it in front of him. 

“ma nana, bless her, makes us christmas jumpers,” he says with a fond smile. you watch as gaz eagerly strips his current sweater to put the new one on. 

your heart aches, but the corner of your lips quirk up as you watch even simon pull his on. 

he reaches into the box again, one last sweater being handed to you. “ah told her ‘bout you,” he begins as you take it from him, unraveling it and feeling the sting of tears line your eyes. “she says welcome to the family.” 

you blink at him with teary eyes and he coos at you, leaning over the counter to squish your cheeks affectionately. 

“go on then, hen,” he says as he releases you, nodding towards the jumper. you eagerly strip out of your jacket, taking the beanie off and settling it on the counter before pulling the sweater over your head. 

it fits like a dream. 

“don’t ask,” soap says with a wink, taking a sip and turning away so you wouldn’t even have the chance to ask. 

you look over to john, blue eyes dark as he takes you in, something unreadable in his expression. his eyes flick to yours, gaze softening as he gives you one of his signature smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners so you know it’s real, reaching out to ruffle your hair before standing from his seat. 

“right then,” he says, “let’s get to work.” 

after the garland has been hung, mistletoe put over every possible doorway thanks to soap, fake poinsettias and other decorations spread all throughout the bar, you deem it to be ready for the holiday. 

or as ready as it can be, but you’ll take what you can. 

the boys turn one of the tvs on to watch the premier league game, lounging in their new, festive jumpers and drinks on the table. you take the moment to slip away to the back office where john is, having retreated there himself a half-hour earlier. 

the door is slightly ajar, but you knock lightly before pushing it open a little more. 

john sits at his desk, sweater pushed up his forearms and stretching across his broad chest. you swallow a pathetic whimper, turning to close the door. you didn’t lock it — fingers crossed the game keeps the boys occupied enough to not worry about you. 

john watches you with those same dark eyes — arousal dampening your panties — as you make your way over to him.  he pushes his chair back enough for you to climb into his lap, settling yourself comfortably over his thick thighs. your fingers card affectionately through his mutton chops, and he lets out a pleased hum, closing his eyes. 

“i got you a gift,” you confess in a whisper, shy and uncertain. 

his eyes flick open, clearly intrigued, but doesn’t prompt you any further. he rests his hands on your hips, dipping under the hem of the sweater to grasp your waist, thumbs rubbing affectionately over your skin, pulling you closer. 

“did you now?” he asks, clearly amused, hands drifting higher. you let out an indignant squeak, swatting his chest. 

“it’s not me!” you say, though the idea certainly isn’t a bad one.

“pity,” he muses, chuckling, before his hands come back to respectfully settle on your waist. “what is it, then?” 

you chew the inside of your cheek, suddenly worrying that it’s too much, or that it’s not enough, or he won’t like it or — 

“love?” he prompts you, as if he could sense the way you’re spiraling into your own mind. 

you balance yourself up on your knees — which doesn’t help your claim that you’re not the gift — pulling out a slightly crumpled, white envelope from your back pocket. you press it against his chest, unable to meet his eyes. his hand — warm and broad and comforting — comes up to rest over yours for a moment before he takes the envelope, opening it with a raised eyebrow. 

he looks over the tickets that rest inside, before he looks back to you, taken off guard.

“merry christmas,” you whisper, even though the holiday is weeks away. he surges up to kiss you, tickets pressed to your cheek as he licks into your mouth, a surprised noise rising in your throat. 

resting your hands on his shoulders, you sink into the kiss, slipping deeper into his lap as his tongue presses against yours, the familiar warmth settling over you. 

“how did you..?” he asks, breathless, moving to press kisses over your cheeks and jaw, and you giggle and push him away, his beard tickling your skin. 

“i used this thing called money,” you tease, scratching at his beard as he rolls his eyes, “which my lovely boss gives me every two weeks.” 

“cheeky,” he laughs, returning the tickets to the envelope and placing it on the desk. “you’ll go with me, yeah?” 

not that he has to ask, but it’s still a sweet gesture. 

two tickets to a newcastle game are tucked into the envelope, set for some time in the new year. you can’t think of a better way for it to begin. 

you know john has a jersey— he wears it on game day. you always appreciate the way you’re able to unashamedly stare at his forearms, corded muscle working as he pours drinks and cleans the counter top. he’s unfairly attractive in it. 

he grasps one of your wrists lightly, breaking you from your reverie, turning it enough to drag his lips across your palm. 

you fall quiet as you watch him, kissing  each of your fingertips, and then pressing your palm against his cheek, looking up at you with reverence, like you were something to worship, to spread out and show his devotion to you.

“you know soap put mistletoe above my door before you came in,” he murmurs and you raise an eyebrow. 

“did he?” 

he hums low in his throat, hands going underneath your jumper once more. you bite your lip as they graze up and down your sides, inching higher and higher. 

“well i’m not one to break tradition,” you reply, leaning in close to press your lips against his. 

you happily sit in his lap as you indulge in his kisses, languid and deep, so content you could almost purr. 

“i have a gift for you too,” he says against your lips, biting at it lightly before kissing the corner of your mouth. you make an interested noise, not wanting to pull away from his mouth, from him. he chuckles as he gives in to kiss you once more, hands beginning to ruck up your jumper. 

he rocks his hips up against yours, and you whine almost pathetically into his mouth, pawing at his shoulders. 

“it’s not this,” he says, clearly amused, but pushes you away enough to bring your jumper up over your head, leaving you in one of your nicer, lacy bras — if you wore it specifically for him, you’ll never tell. 

he’s kind enough to fold it over and place it on his desk before turning his attention back to you. 

“god, look at you,” he marvels, leaning in to press his lips to your collar, down to the valley between your breasts. 

you flush under his attention, one hand braced on the middle of your back, his other dragging the fabric of your bra down, laving his tongue over your nipple, biting it gently to a firm peak and sealing his lips over it. 

“fuck,” you exhale shakily, gripping the nape of his neck, feeling the way he hardens under your touch, arousal slicking your panties, sticky and wet where you’re pressed against him. 

he deftly unhooks your bra, dragging the straps down until it pools in your lap. he immediately moves to mouth over your other nipple, thumb brushing over the hardened nub that’s already shining with his spit. 

he stands suddenly, bra falling forgotten to the floor as he settles you onto his desk, licking deeper into your mouth as you move to undo his belt, feeling almost frantic with the need to feel him. 

“you’re so gorgeous, darling,” he says against your lips, his own hands unbuttoning your jeans. you manage to pull his belt loose, pushing his jeans and boxers down enough to feel the coarse hair at the base of his cock before he stops you.

“wait a second, love,” he’s gentle as he grasps your wrists. “wanna get yours off first,” he adds. 

you pout — just a little — but acquiesce to his request, tilting your hips enough for him to pull your jeans and underwear down to your ankles. 

“ah. fuck,” he sighs, exasperated, before he kneels down — a little awkwardly, with the state of his own bottoms — to unlace your boots to drop them to the floor, your panties and jeans following soon after. 

“there,” he sighs as he grasps your face for a kiss, and you hum happily against his mouth, gripping him for stability.

“are you sure this isn’t my gift?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice, as he drags his mouth to your cheek and then to nip the lobe of your ear. 

he laughs, and it goes right to your core, molten heat trickling down your spine, leaking from your pussy to the desk underneath. 

“i promise,” he says, voice low, pressing a tantalizing kiss to the soft, sensitive skin behind your ear. 

when you open your mouth to reply, he rests two fingers on your bottom lip, almost touching the tip of your tongue. 

he’s asking permission, you realize, so you take his wrist to draw his fingers further into your mouth, closing your lips around his thick fingers, tongue slipping between them and sucking them deeper. 

“that’s a good girl,” he praises, a deep honey drawl that makes you weak. you swallow back a whine. he presses his fingers down against your tongue, and you blink up at him through glassy doe eyes, still grasping his wrist lightly. 

you whimper, when he’s too enchanted with the sight of his fingers deep in your mouth, arousal coating your thighs. glazed eyes turn to you, a hum of approval reverberating in his throat. he slowly withdraws them, your lips glossy with spit. 

his fingers drift down to your cunt, already soaking with need, dragging them lazily through your folds to mix your own spit into the mix. he leans down to kiss you, and you rest your hand on his cheek to keep him close. 

“so wet for me already, darling,” he marvels as he continues to gather your slick on his fingers, moving up to press gently against your clit, rubbing it in slow, soft circles. “think you can take both?” he glides his fingers over your entrance, feeling the way your walls flutter in anticipation. 

you nod eagerly and he leans close to kiss you, licking into the heat of your mouth; at the same time, he sinks both fingers into you, far more gentle that you expected. the stretch catches you off guard, gasping against his lips. he pulls back, a hair’s breadth apart, merely breathing you in as your walls clench around him, trying to get used to the feeling of him filling you full. 

“too much?” he murmurs.

“just,” with a shake of your head, you breathe in, moving to grip his neck, nails sinking into his skin. you want to leave your own marks on him. “been awhile,” you admit on the exhale, drawing him back in to kiss, relaxing into his touch while he happily gives into you.

your mouth drags from his, to the corner of his lips, over to his cheek, right where the line of his beard starts to tickle your skin. he's kind, and patient, and so, so good to you. 

“good?” he asks when you rock your hips into his touch, but he doesn’t start moving his fingers until you actually say yes, pressing the word to his cheek like a promise. 

he’s surprisingly delicate with his touch, as he is with everything else when it comes to you, but the filthy sound of your slick and spit fills the air along your quiet noises, choking down your whines and mewls. 

soap would be insufferable if he found out about this. 

“i know it feels good, love,” he says against your lips, his own curled into a smirk — cocky bastard — “you have to keep quiet for me though, yeah?” 

but then his fingers curl and graze the spot inside you that leaves you trembling, head tipping back as your nails dig deeper into the nape of his neck. he continues to rock his fingers against that spot, deadly precision as he takes the opportunity to bite and suck marks onto the column of your throat, the sting of his teeth making you feel delirious with pleasure. 

“fuck, john,” you whine as you draw him close enough to hide your face into the collar of his sweater, the scent of cigars and sex making your head spin, thoughts turning to static. “‘m gonna cum,” you pant against his collar, trying so desperately to keep yourself quiet. 

it’s not going particularly well. 

another few pumps of his fingers, your clit under his thumb, and white hot pleasure pools down your spine. you muffle your moan against him as your legs shake and cum spills over his fingers. he works you through it, soft praises whispered against the crown of your head. 

you’re pliant in his arms, all the tension seeping from your body as he slowly withdraws his fingers. your grab for his wrist, eyes bleary and glossy, feeling the weight of his gaze as you draw his fingers into your mouth, licking your release from him. 

“fuckin’ hell, love,” he grasps your face, tongue pressing into your mouth, “gonna be the death of me.” 

he finally allows you to push his bottoms down enough to free his cock, hard and heavy against his stomach, pre-cum already dripping from the tip. you go to reach for him, eager to touch him just as he touched you, but he captures your wrist and moves to tip you back against the desk.  

you grip the hem of his jumper, something of a pout gracing your lips as you blink up at him, desperate to feel his skin against yours. he takes his own off with far less grace than he did your own, but still has enough sense to try and fold it and place it over yours. 

it is a gift, after all.

“better?” he asks, a chuckle rising as you immediately move to trace over the planes of his chest, nails scratching through the dark hair that litters his body. faint red marks are left in the wake of your touch, all the way down to his hips, a thatch of hair in a line leading down to his length. 

“much,” is your reply as you drag him close to you, nose buried in his throat to smell cigar smoke and sandalwood, the comfort and musk making you keen, impatient for his touch, his kiss, his cock. 

he braces one hand by your hip, caging you against him, and you tilt up enough to lace your legs around his waist, wanting to bury yourself into his veins, wanting to be as close as possible. he takes himself in his other hand, dragging it through your folds, teasing your sensitive clit. 

you whine at him. 

he gives you a soft kiss before moving to kiss your collar, watching as his cock sinks into you — just the tip. he keeps his hold on himself, dragging himself in and out, feeling the way your cunt tries so desperately to draw him deeper. the wet heat makes his breath stutter, tests his patience so he doesn’t sheath himself completely in one sharp thrust, wanting to do this — needing to do this — properly, even if you are fucking in his office instead of his bed. 

“john,” you damn near sob against his temple, lacing one arm around his shoulders, unashamed with how desperate you are to feel all of him. 

he accidentally slips from your heat, and guides himself back, notching the fat head at your entrance, already shiny with your desire. he pushes in slowly, and you gasp and grab at him, head tipping back as your eyes close, never having felt so full before. 

“f-fuck,” you whine, having enough sense to bring your gaze back to watch as he sheathes himself completely inside you, your clit pressing against the dark hairs at the base of his dick. 

“such a good girl for me.” his teeth latch on to the side of your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, keeping himself still until you mewl out a soft move, please. 

he captures your mouth with his own when he starts thrusting in earnest, swallowing each moan and cry that rises from your throat, wishing the desk wouldn’t squeak so fucking loud, the schlick of his cock pumping in and out of  your soaked pussy making it impossible to focus on anything else.  

he lays you down against the desk, hooking your legs under his arms to press them up by your side, allowing him to push even deeper, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, each a little more brutal than the last. your nails thread through his hair, the strands damp with his sweat, and you bring them down to his shoulders, his arms, digging in sharp to continue leaving your marks all over him. 

“careful now, pet,” he taunts, right in your ear, a shiver going down your spine right to your pussy, clenching tighter around him in response. “only mark me if you’re gonna keep me.” 

you’re breathless as you respond, the pleasure pooling in your gut and spreading throughout like liquid fire — unable to think of anything but him, and the way he touches you, and the way his teeth sink into your neck until you squeal with the sharp, biting pain that he soothes with his tongue. 

“i will, i will,” you say, nails digging in deeper — a show of devotion, of loyalty. “i promise.” 

“my darling girl.” the praise, the possession — it burns you from the inside out. 

“please, please, please,” you beg, so close to the precipice of your second orgasm, pleasure like venom lining your blood. 

“taking my cock so well, love, fuckin’ made for me.” his voice is low, almost a growl, your cum making a thick ring of cream wet the base of him. “you need to cum so badly, don’t you?”

past the point of being able to form words, you cry and nod, tears spilling down your cheeks, overwhelmed, hands moving down to hold him by his waist, too weak to do anything more than lay there and take anything  john gives you. 

“cum on my cock, darling, i want to feel it.” you’d never think he’d have such a filthy mouth, but it’s just enough to snap the coil of pleasure that’s been building. you arch up  into him, his name on your lips, unable to hold back any longer as you shake with the force of it. 

he buries himself to the hilt inside you, feeling the pulses of his cock as thick streams of his cum paint your insides, filling you full. he pants out a jesus christ, pressing his weight down on you, his spend starting to leak from where he’s still buried deep inside you. 

you lay there, comforted by his weight and warmth, the scent of sex and sweat mixing with the ever-present smell of cigar smoke that’s practically embedded into john’s skin. 

after a few minutes of laying there, john presses soft kisses to the column of your throat — over the marks, his marks,  that litter your skin — he pulls out of you slowly. you whine at the loss of him, feeling so empty now without him inside you, burrowed close to your heart. his cum drips from your cunt, gathering on the table below. 

“let me get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, pulling his own bottoms up and slipping back into his jumper,  walking around the side of the desk — dropping a kiss to your temple — and leaves, coming back only moments later with a washcloth. he wipes you down so gently, a second one dragging over your skin in light strokes to dry you off. 

he helps sit you up, gripping your waist and steadying you before gathering your panties and bottoms. he pauses for a moment, eyes flickering to yours before a smirk paints his lips, tucking your panties into his back pocket and helping you into your jeans. as he gathers something from one of his desk drawers, you wrangle yourself back into your own jumper.    

“so,” he begins, settling back into his chair and patting his lap, which you crawl into eagerly, as your sense of stability and balance have yet to return, pressing yourself close, “close your eyes.” 

you give him a look, though his face gives nothing away. you close your eyes, hearing what sounds like a hinge opening and the sharp snap of a case. his hands go around your throat next, but he doesn’t touch you. he’s quiet for a moment, but then settles his touch back to your waist. 

“alright, darling, open up.” 

you immediately bring your hand to your throat, feeling the delicate chain that’s now laying there. you gently bring it up, looking over the charm in your fingers, before your breath catches in your throat.

 j. 

he smiles at you like you’re the sun, and you cup his cheeks, leaning in close to press multiple kisses to his mouth, sniffling a little while he coos at your reaction. 

“you’re my favorite christmas present.” 

soap is, indeed, insufferable about it when you finally emerge from the back office. he gives you a shit-eating grin, musing out loud that he should hang mistletoe off john’s belt next. 

#ink by bambi #secret santa #john price x reader #john price x you #john price au #john price imagine #john price smut #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare smut #modern warfare au

[luveline]

Hi jade I have a hotch request! But u can do with any of the other boys too if you prefer! It's a bit personal but a few years ago someone kissed and then groped me without my consent and now I'm too anxious to kiss anyone even when it's someone I like :( would be willing to write a cute lil hotch comfort fic where may be he goes to kiss reader and she seizes up and just hotch being so patient but also angry on her behalf

Hotch sees you, and he gets this unshakeable happiness that starts in his hands and moves its way through him. He feels young, like he could take you dancing, or send you drinks from across the bar. 

You might accept them. You’re smiling at him from around the stem of a cherry, the corners of your eyes crushed together in a dark smudge of lashes. He waits a beat before taking the stem and pulling against your lips, where it snaps. This is hilarious to you —you giggle infectiously behind your hand, turning away from him and back again, almost like you’d wanted to do something and thought better of it. 

He’s doing that all the time lately. He wants to kiss you more than anything, feel the bubble of your laughter on his lips, and taste the sweetness of your drink where it lingers. Your mouth is stained black cherry as you swallow, and touch his arm in thanks. 

Now, he thinks to himself carefully, is the time. There’s no better time to kiss you than this. You’ve said yes to the date, teased him in the car about his being the nervous one, and you’re smiling at him with that slight sparkle of excitement. He assumes it to be an invitation, and it’s his mistake. 

Hotch takes your cheek into his hand, too focused on remembering how it feels to want to kiss someone to realise the look on your face until you’re turning into his hand. Not just turning, hiding, angling your shoulder away from him, and then pulling away from his hand completely. 

Hotch thinks, oh. Thinks, fuck. Thinks he should’ve asked first, because now you’re trembling, the most minute of shakes wracking your arm where it’s still on the bar, your fingers white wrapped around your glass. He caught you off guard. He’s missed something big. 

Hotch drops his hand from your face. For a moment, there’s a raw quiet between you, like you’re trying to decide who should talk first but neither is brave enough to actually decide. 

He knows this might be wrong again, but he touches your arm, resting his fingers flat and gentle against your skin. Slowly, he rubs a line over your skin and the fine hairs on your wrist. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. It can’t be about him. Hotch is confident in his ability to profile emotion even if he’s messed this up, so he knows it’s not necessarily him. You’re upset. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises without reluctance. Even if your reaction isn’t purely from his action, it is him who spurred it on. 

You touch his wrist with your pinky finger. He doesn’t know if it’s purposeful or accidental. 

“Honey, are you alright? You’re shaking.” 

You don’t talk for a while. He can almost see you putting your words together, blushed lips parting before you speak. “A few months ago, this man I’d never met kissed me, and then he grabbed me. I mean, he groped me,” —you mumble the last part, eyes steadfast on his chest— “so I don’t think you’re gonna do that to me, but I get stressed out sometimes.” 

“You’re anxious it will happen again.” 

“It wasn’t fun.” 

“No, I wouldn’t think so.” 

He cares about you beyond wanting to kiss you, and hearing someone’s hurt you makes him furious, but it also makes him sorry. He has to tamp down the urge to hug you. He reminds himself to ask. 

“Honey, can I hug you?”

“Sorry, I’m being awkward,” you say. He shakes his head. You take a half step forward. “Please.” 

Hotch is careful to hug you kindly. No squeezing or rough hands, just a hug. “I’m sorry for trying to kiss you without asking. I thought you… I read the situation wrongly.” 

“No, Hotch, I did want you to kiss me. I still do.” You curl your hand at his side. “Sorry. I just need some warning.” 

“I can tell you days in advance,” he promises. 

“You aren’t mad?” 

“Of course not. Not at you… I don’t suppose you know the man who assaulted you?” 

You pull away from him ever so slightly, bringing your gaze to his face with a similar shade of tentativeness. “Does it matter?” 

“Only if you wanted me to do something about it,” he says. “But otherwise, no, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry either way. You deserve to be treated with dignity and respect and it’s not fair that that happened to you.” 

“Kind of heavy for a first date,” you laugh. 

To his relief, it’s a real laugh. He thinks he might’ve said the right thing, and he’s glad for it, his arm still held carefully behind your back, the lights of the bar hot against his neck. This would’ve been an unfortunate time and place to have upset you worse, and to express his regret.

“I really am sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do.” 

You lift up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I’d love another drink, if that’s okay.” 

He orders you another cherry vodka sour with extra cherries, and after a warm half an hour in which he tries to prove he can be trusted to treat you gently, you fold your arm behind his back.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[tropes-and-tales]

Five Times Vigilante Definitely Does Not Have Feelings (and the One Time He Does)

Characters:  Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!reader

CW:  Crude language; yearning.

Word Count:  3982

Adrian Chase will tell anyone:  he doesn’t have emotions like people do.  He doesn’t feel sad or angry or embarrassed.  When Peacemaker gave him the nickname “Thimble,” he certainly didn’t cry.  When Peacemaker was sent to prison, he certainly didn’t feel lonely.  

Not having emotions is what makes him a more evolved human.

And yet, when ARGUS springs Peacemaker and sets up a black ops outfit in Evergreen, Adrian finds himself toeing the line of feelings.  He doesn’t have emotions like people do, but he comes awfully close a handful of times…until he crosses the line entirely.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Vulnerable

As the Vigilante, Adrian gets hurt all the time.  He’s become proficient at stitching up his own wounds.  His body is littered with the scars of his own handiwork.

But when Goff tortures him for information, and when the ARGUS team comes to his and Peacemaker’s rescue, he finds himself missing half of a pinkie toe.  It’s the most important toe on the human body, and he’ll probably never walk again…and no one seems to care.

Except for you.  In the van as they return to headquarters, you sit across from him, watching him as he studies his mangled foot.  You murmur something that sounds sympathetic, but he barely hears it over Peacemaker laughing at him.

At headquarters, you look at him and jerk your head in the direction of the back office.

“I can stitch you up, if you want,” you offer. 

He starts to shake his head, but the mean blonde woman—Harcourt, her name is—makes an offhand comment about your superior patch-up abilities, so he accepts your help.  He limps painfully behind you, follows you into a room that has been converted into a rough sort of exam room and budget clinic.

“Hop up on the table,” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t trust you—or any of your team—he does as you say.  It’s clumsy.  He hurts in a hundred different places:  his half-amputated toe, his electrocuted crotch, all the scrapes and bruises from the fight with Cobra Kai. 

“I won’t take off my mask,” he warns you.  “I take my secret identity very seriously.  If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you.”

“Duly noted,” you reply dryly.  “But I only need to see your foot.”

He pulls off his boot and regards his mangled half-pinkie toe sadly.  You pull on a pair of latex gloves and turn on a bright lamp, angling it at his bare foot.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say as you prod the wound gently.  “In fact, you really didn’t lose anything but a couple layers of skin.”

“The blade was as dull as fuck,” he replies. 

You wheel your stool over to a cabinet, then pull out some supplies:  needle and thread, disinfectant, gauze and tape.  Then you wheel back over to him and set to work.

The mean blonde woman was right—you’re quick, efficient.  He looks down at your bent head as you stitch him up, and he sees that your needlework is better than his own.  He doubts he’ll even have much of a scar once it heals.

But it’s the strange feeling that creeps over him:  makes his vision waver, makes him feel a little light-headed.  Your hands are deft but also gentle.  Adrian can’t remember ever being touched so gently.  Maybe when he was really small.  Maybe his mom was gentle like that when he was so small that he can’t remember it now.  It makes him break out in goosebumps.  He shudders at the touch of your warm hand bracing his foot, and you misunderstand the involuntary gesture.

“Almost done,” you murmur, and a moment later you tie off the last stitch and snip the thread.  You wrap his toe in gauze, pat his knee softly in a reassuring way.  Then you straighten up and ask if there’s any other injuries he needs patched up.

“Goff electrocuted me,” he blurts out.  “With a car battery.”

You look at him, level, but the corner of your mouth quirks in a near-smile.  “You want me to look at that for you?”

“Oh, no.  No.  No, I just wanted to mention it.  I’m not asking you to look at it.”  He’s grateful for the mask; he can feel his face heating up at the idea of taking off his suit in front of you, and the sudden flush confuses him.  Irritates him.  Something about the thought of being exposed makes his stomach churn in a way he doesn’t understand.

You hum thoughtfully, then turn back to the cabinet of supplies.  You rummage around, then pull out a small white tube that you hand him.

“Antibiotic gel for cuts and burns,” you say.   “You can put a cool cloth on…well, any burns you may have.  If there’s blistering, don’t pop them.”

“Okay.”

“And, you know…if you have any lingering side effects of being electrocuted, you should see a specialist.”

Vigilante reaches down and pulls his boot back on, but already his toe feels better.  “What sort of side effects?” he asks.

He looks up at you in time to see that same half-smile.  You peel off your gloves, toss them in the trash.  

“I can imagine where you were electrocuted,” you reply.  “So if those parts don’t typically work the way you’re used to, see a real doctor.”

Adrian Chase is not good at nuance or subtlety.  “Huh?”

You blink at him before you say, “if you can’t get or maintain an erection, see a urologist.”

“Oh.”  He blinks too, behind his visor.  “Okay.”

You turn to leave the room but then glance over your shoulder before you do.  “Thanks for your help tonight,” you say.  “The mission was a success because of you.”

Neither Vigilante nor Adrian Chase ever get any thanks.  He flushes even hotter under his mask, and he grumbles in reply, uncomfortable to be seen, to be recognized for the first time.

To be vulnerable.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Embarrassed

The next afternoon, he’s at Peacemaker’s trailer, helping him clean up from when the police tossed the place.  They are blasting Guns and Roses, drinking beer…it’s like the old days, almost.

A knock at the door then, and Adrian has only a second to pull on his mask before you stroll in.

“Hey, Chris.  Vigilante.”  You nod in greeting, then reach into your bag to pull out a thick manila folder.  You hand it to Peacemaker.

“Murn wanted me to bring this by.  It’s the latest intel we got from Goff’s place.”  

You stand there as Chris takes the folder and sinks down onto his couch, already paging through the information.  Vigilante stands there too, awkward, so he crosses his arms to keep from fidgeting.  There’s a long stretch of silence once the Guns and Roses record ends, and Vigilante struggles with silence.

“I got hard last night,” he tells you.  “And this morning too.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Peacemaker sputters.  “She doesn’t want to hear that!”

“She mentioned it last night!”

Peacemaker scoffs, twists his face into an expression of disbelief.  “Yeah, I’m sure she mentioned your dick last night.  Sure.  Okay.  Fantasize much?”

“She did!”

“You seriously need to get laid, dude.  Stop making shit up.”

“He’s not lying,” you tell Peacemaker with a sheepish shrug.  “Though I mentioned it in the context of his injuries and not…some other context.”

“See?”  Vigilante says, and Peacemaker rolls his eyes, makes a jacking-off motion with his hand.

You don’t linger.  You beat a hasty retreat, waving over your shoulder as you leave the trailer, and Peacemaker gives him more hell—calls him weird, calls him annoying.

“No wonder you’ve never had a real girlfriend, dude,” he says as he turns back to his folder of intel.  “You say the creepiest shit the minute a cute girl is around.”

Vigilante doesn’t think about it much more until later.  That night, in bed, he lies awake for far longer than he usually does.  He replays that moment, tries to understand why he just blurted that out.  

He wonders if you would have stayed at the trailer longer if he hadn’t been creepy.  His face burns in the darkness of his bedroom, and his stomach twists painfully as he replays the moment over and over.  He replays his stupid blurting out about his dick, and he has no idea what it means.  He never obsesses over his stupid mouth like this.

If he had feelings like other people, he’d recognize the emotion as embarrassment.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Despondent (and Comforted)

Adrian gets himself arrested on purpose.  It’s the best way he can help Chris:  get arrested, get booked into the same prison as Chris’ racist supervillain father, then kill said racist supervillain father.

Easy enough.  It’d set Chris free and make his life so much better.  Allow him to move forward and not be bogged down, like Adebayo said.

Adrian fails.  He only manages to make things worse—clues Auggie into his plan accidentally, possibly points law enforcement in Chris’ direction.  So Adrian doesn’t just fail—he fails miserably.

He’s released that night.  He’s surprised at first, but as he changes back into his clothes and collects his personal effects from the guards, he realizes that ARGUS has its sticky fingers in all sorts of things and probably sprung him with just a few keystrokes.

When he leaves the prison, you’re sitting out front in your car.  You lower the passenger window and call out to him.

“C’mon,” you say.  “Harcourt sent me to take you home.”

He’s too upset to even feel bad about his cover being blown.  He climbs into the car.

“I think I made things worse,” he says, and he tries not to cry.  He only wanted to help his best friend (even if he’s not Peacemaker’s best friend).  Somehow he messed up, and it could ruin everything.  

“Okay,” you reply softly.  “It’s okay.”

You drive him home.  He doesn’t give you his address, but you know it—another screw-up, he thinks, getting tangled up with people who easily cracked his secret identity.  You know his name, his face, where he lives.  Some instrument of vengeance he is.  You probably even recognize him from his job at Fennel Fields.

Outside of his apartment, you park, then turn to face him.  In the half-light from the streetlamps, he can just make out your soft smile.

“This entire ops is nothing but mistakes,” you tell him.  “And yet, we’re doing okay.  We’ll figure out how to handle Auggie Smith.  Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, and something about the barest bit of comfort—paired with your smile—makes him turn to face you too.  

“I’m Adrian,” he says, even though you know his name.

Your smile broadens and you say your name, even though he knows it.  You hold out your hand and after a beat he takes it.

“Good to finally meet you, Adrian,” you reply as you shake hands.  

For whatever reason, as low as he feels, he falls asleep that night with a weird lightness in his chest—because he doesn’t dwell on his failure at the prison.  

Instead, he falls asleep with the memory of your smile, your kind words.  Your warm hand in his.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Protective

The attack on Goff’s house yielded some leads, and the team travels three hours away to take out a nest of Butterflies.  Everyone is exhausted, filthy, and bruised up.  

It’s in the van—you sitting beside Adrian—when you start to nod off.  He catches it the first few times, the way your head dips forward, the way you jerk back awake.  It’s cute, the way you fight sleep, and then it happens.

You fall asleep and you don’t wake up.  Your head drifts towards him, then settles against his shoulder.

Adrian freezes.  

He and Peacemaker—they used to go out together, looking for crimes or bitches or both.  He’s no virgin.  He fucks.  He’s no stranger to touch, and he’s certainly no stranger to women.  And yet…this feels different.  It feels new.

Peacemaker notices.  “You got a new girlfriend, dude,” he points out with a laugh.

Harcourt rolls her eyes at the teasing.  “Leave her alone.  She puts in way more hours than you, asshole.”

“I put in plenty of hours,” he replies, defensive.  “It takes a lot of time to maintain this impressive physique.  Do you know how long I work on my small muscle groups alone?”

Harcourt rolls her eyes again, then returns her attention to her phone.  Peacemaker turns back to where Adrian sits, rigid, as you sleep against him.

“If you get hard, just don’t tell her about it,” he advises the younger man.  “You’ll creep her out again.”

It’s strange, the feeling of your head against him.  It’s not sexy at all, obviously—in fact, it’s a little uncomfortable.  He doesn’t want to move you, doesn’t want to jostle you and wake you up.  Harcourt said you’re tired, and you took a hell of a beating as you fought the Butterflies.  

Adrian has always approached his work as Vigilante from a perspective of vengeance, not protection, so the feeling is strange:  how he wants to let you sleep, how he wants to protect your sleep.  How he wants to make you comfortable.

A quiet falls over the team; the swaying of the van lulls everyone into comfortable silence.  Adrian breathes in carefully through his nose, then shifts his body.  Slowly, carefully.  He leans away from you, allows you to lie against him more.  He changes the angle enough that he can get his arm out from where it’s trapped between your body and his.  He shifts again, gets his arm around you.  Gently moves you—changes it from your head awkwardly pressed against his hard molded shoulder pad to your head tucked against his chest.

You wake, a little, as he moves you.  You blink up at him sleepily, say his name—Adrian, not Vigilante or Vig or V—and your voice is husky with exhaustion.  There’s a questioning lilt to how you say his name, so he shakes his head softly.

“Go ahead and rest,” he says, quiet.  “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, then settle back against him.  It takes only a moment until he feels your breathing slow down, deepen.  He feels your body go heavy and lax against him.  Tucked against his chest, his arm holding you against him, he can smell you, feel how warm you are.  If he moves his head just a little, he can press his cheek against the top of your head.

Go ahead and rest, he thinks.  Everything’s fine.  I’ll keep you safe.

Vigilante has always been an instrument of vengeance, but this is the first time he’s felt protective of anyone.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Fear

The 11th Street Kids have one chance to eradicate the Butterflies forever:  if they can kill their only food source, the so-called cow, they will eventually all die off.  When they make their final assault on the farm, the team splits up:  Adebayo and Economos stay back, while the warriors—Peacemaker, Vigilante, Harcourt, and you—charge into action.

Whether the cow is killed or not, Adrian doesn’t find out until after the battle is over.  He fights off the onslaught of Butterflies, but for the first time, his attention isn’t entirely on his own fight.

His attention is on you, now, too.  

He manages to keep you in his sightline for the beginning of the fight.  He sees you, admires the sight of you when you’re in your berserker mode:  furious and deadly, well-fitted black suit, guns flashing as you empty clip after clip into the skulls of the Butterflies.  

Then he loses sight of you. 

His chest clenches in an unfamiliar tension, and when he finally catches sight of you again, that tight-chest feeling cedes to something else, something worse:  an ice-cold shard of fear that lances through him, settles in his gut where it sits like a stone.

When he finally catches sight of you, it’s the exact moment you are shot by a Butterfly.

One shot hits your shoulder, spins you around.

Another shot hits you square in the chest, makes you stagger backwards as the force is absorbed by your vest.

The final shot hits you low in the belly, and Adrian (who has studied your gear closely) knows you have little protection there.  The icy fear blooms in him, fills up every bit of him until it feels like it’s in his veins.

He screams your name.  He barely even feels the bullet that hits him (“oh, shoot” he mutters, and tosses a knife behind him to kill his own attacker), but then he stumbles and falls, and he loses consciousness.

He wakes a moment later.  He has no idea how much time has passed, but he manages to get to his hands and knees, then to his feet.  He makes his way to where you fell and he finds you.  

It’s bad.  It’s so bad that the icy fear turns acidic in his veins, makes him burn with fear.  With terror.  You gaze up at him but you don’t seem to see him, and each breath makes a fresh pulse of blood trickle from your mouth.

Adrian has never been very good at social situations.  He never knows the right thing to say and if he does, he doesn’t know the right time to say it.  He wishes these things came more easily to him; if it were Chris here right now instead of him, Chris would know the right thing to say.  He’d know how to keep you awake, how to give you comfort.

All Adrian can offer is what you told him the night he got out of prison, when you drove him home.  Now, as you lie under the night sky, dying in front of him, as he presses one hand against the worst wound to try and staunch the bleeding, he repeats your words back to him.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he says it over and over and hopes you believe it.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  It’s okay.”

The Time Vigilante Definitely Feels Love

You have no memory of the fight at the farm.  The last thing you remember is the drive there, but everything after is a blank.  Adebayo stops by when you finally wake up and fills you in on the salient details.  

She tells you how Vigilante—who was also shot, who had been blown up earlier in the day—carried you to safety.  How he kept you from bleeding out, how he held your very life in his hands and kept you from dying.  How hospital security had to separate him from you, once you were laid out on the gurney and being wheeled into surgery.

How he still tried to fight to stay by your side, and how he only failed because of his own injuries and blood loss.

“That man is stupid crazy about you,” Adebayo chuckles with a shake of her head.  “I don’t even think he’s really a psychopath.”

You chuckle with her, wince when the action pulls at the thousand stitches and staples that are keeping you held together.  “He’s not bad, right?”

“We’re literally the Island of Misfit toys,” she replies.  “But yeah, he’s alright.”

-----

Adrian is hospitalized too, and once he’s healed up to a point, he starts sneaking into your room to visit.  It’s not really sneaking—every time he undoes his IV and heart monitor, it sends the nurses into a panic—but after Adebayo’s press conference revealing the existence of Task Force X, the hospital staff is pretty tolerant of his harmless shenanigans. 

He helped ward off an alien invasion, after all.  You both did.

You have to agree with Adebayo.  You’ve never quite believed that Adrian is a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever.  You certainly never believed him when he said he didn’t have feelings or emotions.  The guy is nothing but a walking ball of emotions:  obvious love for his friends, a yearning to belong, a sweet desire to be liked and included.  Sure, he kills without compunction, but he seems to love in equal measure, even if he doesn’t believe he does.

When he visits you, he doesn’t talk about feelings.  He chatters endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exploits—criminals they’ve busted, ways they’ve destroyed old appliances in the woods behind Peacemaker’s trailer.  He talks about how it was when Peacemaker was in prison, how he kept calling and leaving voicemails to make it seem like everything was normal.  He talks about his job at Fennel Fields, all the terrible customer service stories he has.

He discharges himself against the advice of the doctors (he’s healed enough, he tells you), and you think he’ll stop visiting, but he doesn’t.  He visits every day still, and when you start physical therapy to build up the muscle tone and endurance you’ve lost, he sits in a nearby chair, watching you.  Cheering you on.

Adebayo wasn’t wrong.  You know Adrian has feelings for you.  You’re more socially adept than him, and you’ve had relationships before.  You’ve had crushes and been the object of them.  You guessed his infatuation early on, and you can guess that it’s only grown for him since then.

It probably confuses him, you guess.  You know what love feels like.  What a crush feels like.  All that feeling, in so many places:  the fluttery stomach, the pounding heart, the thoughts that just circle ‘round and ‘round about a single person.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have similar feelings for him.  He’s easy on the eyes, sure—but he’s earnest and sweet, a brutal killer with a heart of gold.

You can also guess that Adrian might never make a move.  This has to be unfamiliar territory for him.  You know he’s no virgin (he’s chattered endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exhaustive threesomes too), but he seems to have no relationship experience.

But your entire short working relationship with him has been give and take.  You stitched him up, comforted him when he was feeling low after his failed attempt to kill Auggie Smith.  He let you rest against him, held you gently as you slept after a mission.  He saved your life, kept you from bleeding out.

Give and take.  The best kind of relationship, in your opinion.

“Hey, Adrian,” you say one afternoon after PT.  You’re exhausted and sore, but you’re quickly approaching your own discharge.  You are healing up nicely.  You have things to look forward to.

“What’s up?” he asks, and he bounces over to your bedside like a Golden Retriever puppy, eager.

“Doctor says I’m good to go in a few days.”

“That’s great!”  His face breaks open in a wide grin that transforms him from nerdy-handsome to downright gorgeous.  “That’s good news!”

You swallow, push down the nerves that flare up.  “I thought maybe we could celebrate.”

“Yeah!”  He grins at you.  “I can call Chris—”

“I thought maybe just me and you,” you cut in, clarifying.  “Just this time.  Maybe we include Chris some other time.”

“Oh.”  The smile falls from his face, and he looks at you.  His brows are knit in confusion.  

No sense in backtracking now.  “Like a date.  Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh.”  A beat.  “With me?  Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

What you’re asking him finally sinks in—a beat longer than it might with someone else, but that’s just part of Adrian’s charm.  The smile returns to his face, brighter and wider than before.

“Yeah,” he replies.  “Hell yeah, dude.  I’d love that.”

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #tropes-and-tales

[heauxvibez]

Wet The Bed

warning: smut (18+)

I ain't afraid to drown,if that means im deep up in yo ocean,yeah.Girl I'll drink you down sippin' on yo body all niighhhtt

His hand glides up and down your thigh with a gentle, yet deliberate motion, each stroke causing your clit to jump. His warm breath dances across your naked body, making you weak.

Those thick, soft, and warm lips caress every inch of your skin with care, ensuring not a single spot is missed.

As his touch intensifies, your pussy clenches craving his attention but you knew to be patient. There was no rushing the Tribal Chief..ever.

Your panties are now soaked with desire, your essence trickling down your slit.

I don't want to be a minute man, baby you're just like a storm rainin' on me girl you're soakin' wet...

His rough hands skillfully roam over the curves of your body. Roman enjoyed this part of your intimacy, taking you in, drinking you up with his eyes. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, inhaling and exhaling deeply as he tried to control himself.

Your pretty brown skin glistened just as much as your pussy did. You were coated in shea butter, smelled like hot cocoa and kissed by the sun. You took his breath away without trying.

He released his bottom lip, allowing his perfect tongue to graze his bottom lip. As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but compare the sight of him to a hungry lion. His hair was wild and poofy yet you could still see the defined curls at the ends. His gaze focused as he prepared himself to eat his prey. You.

Your perky nipples receive his attention, his thumb teasing and pinching them, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. You writhed under his touch, soft pretty moans following behind every movement you made.

The contrast between his movements—rough yet undeniably sensual—made you melt. He lavishes your nipples on his tongue, each long, wet stroke sending you in a spiral. His devious eyes met yours and he swirled his tongue around your sweet bud, strings of his spit dangling between the two before he took your nipple back into his mouth. He released your nipple, spit on it, and slurped it back up.

"Oh my, Jesus.." you whimpered, slowly losing your mind. You couldn't help but bring your hands to the back of his neck, gradually making their way through his scalp as he continued this assault of your breasts.

Roman moaned, taking one hand at a time into his and pinning them at the sides of your head. If you weren't already lying down, you'd definitely be on the floor. He knew you loved shit like this, he always played into your fantasy of being dominated.

He squeezed your hands in his, keeping your arms still while he spit and slurped on your other bud. He wanted to make sure that both breasts were equally loved.

You threw your head back and closed your eyes submitting to his touch. There was no way out and you didn't know if this was absolutely torture or bliss. On one hand, you enjoyed the warmth of his tongue, the ability he had to make you feel like you were about to nut without him touching your sweet pearl. Other other hand, the pussy was begging to be touched.

I'm gon' kiss it right yeah,yeah.I'm gon' lick all night yeah,yeah.

He released your breasts of the sweet torture and released your hands from his firm grip. The soft, supple touch of his lips made it's way down the valley of your chest, your tummy and finally your navel. Roman shivered as his lips damn near melted into your soft skin.

His pearly whites delicately latch onto the hem of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness, his eyes locking onto yours.

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips as the scent and sight of your arousal tightens his briefs. Your swollen clit appeared to be begging for his attention, your nectar saturated your lips and the sheets beneath you. Your wetness created a small rope from your ass to the sheets.

"Goddamn, sweetheart. This for me?" he asked, mouth-watering at the thought of drowning in your love. Roman blew lightly on your pussy while awaiting your response.

A shaky breath left your lips as you felt the cool air against your core, only a nod answering his question.

Roman raised an eyebrow at you, his lips curving into a disappointed frown. You know better.

"Hmm? Use your big girl words, I love to see those pretty lips move for me.."

Roman reaches his arms under your thighs placing them on his biceps. His hands then grab at the inner part of your thigh spreading your legs as far apart as possible, he had access to all of you.

Your whimpers saturated the air as you tried to find the words, you wanted him, needed him badly and he just refused to give himself to you.

"Y-yes, it's for you. It's all for you." you uttered, your hips attempted to thrust up so your pussy could finally meet his lips. His grip on you tightened before he finally began to dip his head towards your lower lips.

"It's only for me.." The tip of his tongue teases your erect clit, eliciting a sharp breath as your body responds to his touch.

With puckered lips, he envelops your clit, sucking softly, your taste coaxing his buds. Your thighs are guided onto his shoulders, his grip on your hips firm, anchoring you in place, ensuring there's no escape from the impending ecstasy.

Your legs tighten around his neck, urging him closer, craving more of his touch. His tongue snakes out, tracing a path between your slick folds, spreading your essence all over before returning to your pulsating clit.

Roman moaned deeply, almost whimpering himself as you unraveled beneath him. The juices that slipped onto his skilled tongue almost made him dizzy. Only you could make him drunk off of your essence, it was intoxicating in the best way. He wanted more and more and more. He lapped at your pussy with soft grunts, mimicking the actions that he did with your breast. Spitting and slurping away. You weren't sure if he was drowning your pussy or if your pussy was drowning him at this point.

You squirm beneath him, the intensity of sensation almost too much to bear as you struggle against the overwhelming pleasure. Each lap of his tongue made you want to run, escape from a feeling that threatened to consume you.

"No... no more," you whimper, your voice barely a breathless whisper. "It's too much... I can't..."

"No running allowed, baby," he growls against your heat. The warmth of his breath and the sight of your juices cascading from his lips, down to his beard had you in a chokehold. The way he was making you feel should be illegal.

Anytime you want it I'm ready and willin' to give it, I start to licking yo body you go to tremblin'

You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes fixed on Roman as he immerses himself in your essence. With a deft touch, he uses his hands to coax your legs apart, his head tilting slightly as he curls his tongue, teasingly grazing your swollen lips before unleashing a fervent slurp.

His lips pepper your most intimate area with tender kisses, his arms firmly gripping your thighs tighter than usual, almost as if he was trying to prepare both you and him for what's to come.

Roman extends his tongue, pressing it firmly against your clit and vigorously shaking his head from side to side.

"Oh God!" you cry out, the sensations overwhelming your senses. Your perfectly manicured fingers claw into the mattress, the heat of passion causing the roots of your silk-pressed hair to coil back to its 4c state.

The familiar heat builds in your stomach, intensifying with each stroke of his tongue, your moans motivating him to continue his torment.

"Fuck! I'm nutting!" you exclaim, the feeling coursed through your veins as his tongue circled and sucked on your clit violently. The sounds of his slurps stirred a feeling in your stomach, you melted feeling weak and vulnerable in his hold.

As your body tenses and your heat pulsates with release, he kisses along your trembling thighs, savoring the taste of your cum as it trickles down, before trailing kisses back up your quivering body.

Flip it around girl let me get it from the side.And can I visit all those spots you like;yo neck, yo back, yo sexy lips, booty and thighs...

He rid himself of his briefs, sighing in relief as his dick sprung from the compression. The anticipation was palpable in the air as he turned you onto your side, lifting your left leg over his waist with a gentle motion.

With a few firm pumps of his cock, he lines himself with your pussy, his thumb grazing lightly over the head, collecting the slick precum that glistens in the dim light.

Blissful sighs escape both your lips as he begins to slowly slide between your soaked folds, the sensation of him spreading your lips threatening to push you over the edge once more.

With a steady rhythm, Roman grinds his hips against yours, each movement burying him deeper inside your throbbing heat. His fingerprints leave a trail of heat on your skin as he grips your thigh tightly, his touch sending you into a frenzy.

Your hands instinctively seek out the bed frame for support as your body trembles with pleasure, the walls of your core tightening around his thickness in response to the overwhelming sensation.

As your juices coat Roman's dick, your shared passion drips down not only your thighs but also his, a tender reminder of the intensity of your connection at that moment.

I'ma put yo legs behind your head when I make you wet the bed..yeah, yeah

Your legs were now drawn near your head, granting him deeper access as the tip of his member expertly teased your most sensitive spot, eliciting a guttural cry of pleasure from your lips.

"Roman..Joe, baby. That's... th-that's..." you stuttered, struggling to form coherent words amidst the feeling of him digging your insides out.

Leaning in close, he whispered huskily into your ear,

"Is that your spot, baby girl? Hmm?"

The words sent electricity through your body. You began to lose yourself completely when he withdrew slowly, only to regain control and thrust back in with unrelenting force.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You can take it, I know you can take it.." he moaned, pulling away from your ear to watch you fall apart with hooded lids.

"Joe, stop, I th-think I'm gonna pee," you managed to protest weakly, attempting to push him away, but his grip on the mattress was firm and unyielding. It was too late now, your hips involuntarily surged forward, your back arching as waves of ecstasy washed over you, it was a feeling that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

You squirted uncontrollably around Roman's dick, your body convulsing, tears trickling the same way your juices did as each stroke he delivered only heightened the pleasure, bringing his own release closer with each passing moment.

You gazed into his eyes with a bite of your lip while pushing a soft strand of his hair behind his ear,

"Mmm, fuck this dick feels so good. Are you going to nut for me daddy?" you moaned, purposely clenching your walls around him. His body weakened as you did. His head dropped down to your neck, he panted against your ear, his hips no longer at a steady, rhythmic pace.

"Y-yes," he barely muttered out. You squeezed your walls around him once more pushing him to the edge.

He groaned deeply as streams of cum left his body.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath, his voice laced with satisfaction as he gradually softened inside you. Your own moans of contentment filled the room as he withdrew, a hiss escaping your lips at the loss of his warmth.

Breathless and flushed, you looked up at him as he rose to throw on his briefs, confused as his suddenness.

"Get up, baby," he instructed, pointing to the bed, and your eyes widened in realization as you surveyed the mess you had made.

"Oh... sorry," you mumbled, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you hastily scrambled out of bed, hiding your face from Roman's view.

Sensing your discomfort, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Hey, it's perfectly fine. It makes me happy that I could make you feel that good, okay?" he reassured you, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"I'm serious, baby. Hopefully, I can get you to do that to the next set of sheets," he added with a mischievous smirk, prompting a giggle from you as you playfully pushed him away.

"You are so nasty," you teased, a grin spreading across your face.

Yeah girl you heard what I said I'm gonna make you wet the bed

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

Wheww...is all I can say. Hope you enjoyed!

Please ignore any and all mistake, thanksssss

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @kumapassion @msbigredmachine

#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #roman reigns smut #romanreignsoneshot #romanreigns

[niki-phoria]

TO LIVE IN LOVE AND DIE

pairing: inumaki x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/comfort word count: 450

notes: mentions of blood, insecure inumaki, maybe ooc inumaki ?? THIS IS ROMANCE I SWEAR, title from pierce the veil - i don't care if you're contagious

toge is bloody. he can feel it drip down the corners of his lips, staining the hem of his uniform despite his best efforts to wipe it away. it feels sticky in patches as it slowly dries against his skin; a harsh reminder of the life he was born into. 

an ache burns deeply in his throat. his hands still tremble a little as the adrenaline from the battle courses through him. his heart beats wildly in his chest. 

toge is bloody. and you’re smiling.

“love,” you whisper. it’s a soft, sort of sad smile. one that he knows is fake - your lips curl upwards in an attempt to soothe his worries rather than your own. it sends a pang of guilt through his chest. your touch is gentle as you reach up, tentatively resting a hand against his cheek. “i’m glad you’re safe. i missed you.”

toge’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into your hand. he softly sighs, an apology that he can’t say lingering on the tip of his tongue. “mustard leaf,” he mumbles instead before he forces his tired eyes to meet yours once again. 

you’re still smiling. your hand slips down to caress the edges of the marks embedded deep into his skin. toge's eyes flutter shut once again as he pretends that it’s love that’s taking away his ability to speak instead of his cursed energy. that he stumbles over his words around you because your mere presence flusters him and not his overwhelming anxiety that he’ll slip up and somehow curse you. 

toge is pulled back into reality when he feels your lips press against his skin. it’s a chaste kiss, but it’s enough to initiate a deep flush spreading across his skin all the same. he can’t help the way his lips quirk into a soft smile of his own when you lean in once again, this time meeting his lips with your own. 

the kiss tastes of iron and hints of the cherry cough medicine he had downed during the walk back to jujutsu high. it's not the most pleasant feeling, but toge can’t find it within himself to care. he presses his body a little closer to yours, stumbling closer to you. his arms slip around your waist; his head finds a home buried in the crook of your neck when you finally break the kiss.

you softly chuckle, rubbing a hand against his back. toge sighs as he relaxes further into your touch. “come on,” you murmur. “let’s get you cleaned up. i’ll make some tea.”

toge simply hums in response, peppering little kisses against your neck in return, hoping that they say all the words he wants to. 

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#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk soft hours #jjk soft thoughts #inumaki fluff #inumaki x reader #inumaki x male reader #inumaki imagine #inumaki one shot #inumaki drabble #inumaki scenario #jjk imagine #jjk one shot #jjk drabble #jjk scenario #jjk fanfic #jjk inumaki #inumaki x you #inumaki x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #inumaki toge #male reader #gn reader #inumaki soft hours #inumaki soft thoughts

[crezz-star]

I can't help but wonder about your One Piece OC! I know you've mentioned that he's a mature person in the crew, but do you see him as more of a sibling/parental role to Luffy, or is he part of the shenanigans with usopp/chopper/luffy, or is he like tired uncle like Jinbei (or secretly amused like zoro) ? I am eager to hear about where he meshes in with crew especially luffy

I also can't help but wonder if our first mate gets jealous of him often. You mentioned that you do, but I think about like what if some days luffy just misses Ace, and luff will stare at Jean a lot more sometimes or just hover around him just to relive being with his brother *cries*

✨Kira kira yoho!✨

Hello!

Ahhh!! Im so happy and excited every time I get question about my OCs (❤´艸｀❤) Thank you for taking interest and being curious about Jean!

To answer. He is more of big brother type. Not just to Luffy but to everyone. Even the older mature straw hats. Jean just have so much love to give, growing up not knowing much about the world, isolated and thinking himself to be a slave until death. It really is Luffy and the strawhats who saved him and his fellow slaves so, he's enthusiastic in showing them how much he cares for them. how thankful he is to them for saving him, and along with that, his life. So he spoils everyone like this cool doting brother.

I'm actually planning to make one paged comic series ( kind of like 4 koma? ) in his interactions with the strawhats. As well as discovering more of the world. little sneak peek with Sanji ( ignore the cross. i changed that to a locket )

Here, Jean becomes the big brother Sanji dreamed and should have had. At first it annoys Sanji to no end even saying stuff like " gross, dont touch me. its weird! " but Jean is so gentle towards the crew, even helping Sanji wash the dishes, even cleaning the kitchen at night to surprise Sanji that eventually, Sanji accepts Jean. And finally allows himself to be spoiled. Even bringing out that side of Sanji that longs for a caring brother. One he only dreamed back then.

Jean has that ability to let everyone's hidden side of wanting to be spoiled and Jean is all to happy to do so. He is just so happy to be there with everyone. That he never really asks for anything in return.

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

As for Zoro being made Jealous by Jean. Yes he does that. but there is a moment only the three of them knows. Its when Luffy gets nightmares about Ace every now and then. most of the time he can deal with it, but there are times he's so shaken. When Jean wasn't around yet, it's Zoro trying to calm him down. But when jean arrived, the three of them found out that, despite being freaked out by jean and Ace looking alike, Jean helps Luffy calm down due to his voice being exactly like Ace's. Along with it, Jean's hugs is just one of the best. Even beating hugs from Jinbei. There's a strange therapeutic effect.

Here is a comic I doodled quickly just now to show that.

I still wanted to emphasize the eerie feeling from Jean and Ace's similarities are so the comic ended up a bit off. (laughs) please forgive me!

Every time this happens, Luffy does apologize to Jean for asking him to 'talk' like Ace. He knows it's wrong, but honestly, Jean would do anything to calm Luffy. and He knows Luffy doesn't mean it and that he's just suffering, So Jean is very patient with him and never really feels offended at all.

And that is all the answers I have!

Thank you for being interested in Jean!! 💖💖

✨Have a sparkling day!✨

#zolu #ゾロル #portgas d ace #one piece #one piece oc #kureask

[princess-sof-time]

Moonie-chan is here to bring you another wild and silly request 😉✨

Could you write for Meliodas, King, Ban (Nanatsu no Taizai) and Naruto, Hinata and Rock Lee(Naruto) (if you want to add someone else its okay, i will love to read more of it!) with a S/O that has a lot of scars in their body for a past almost deadly experience but is something that doesn't bother them more, like reader had already made peace with their past so they do jokes about it casually or has the silliest and unreal excuses to explain their scars when someone askslike joking

I love your requests Moonie-chan!

🄼🄴🄻🄸🄾🄳🄰🅂

• Meliodas, the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins, looked at his S/O with a mix of admiration and curiosity. Their body bore the marks of a past that had tested their strength and resilience. Scars, like battle-worn trophies, adorned their skin, serving as a testament to their survival. However, what truly captivated Meliodas was their lighthearted approach to these marks, turning what could be seen as reminders of pain into a source of humor.

• One evening, as they sat together, Meliodas couldn't help but ask about a particularly prominent scar. With a mischievous twinkle in their eye, his S/O launched into an outlandish tale involving a daring escapade with mythical creatures. Their words flowed effortlessly, painting a vivid picture of a fantastical encounter that had left them marked but unscathed. Meliodas chuckled, recognizing the playfulness behind their words, and joined in the whimsical storytelling, adding his own embellishments to the tale.

🄺🄸🄽🄶

• King, the Grizzly's Sin of Sloth, observed his S/O with a tender gaze. Their scars, scattered across their body like delicate brushstrokes, fascinated him. He was well aware of the immense strength and resilience it took to bear such marks. Yet, what truly enamored King was their ability to embrace their scars with lightheartedness and humor.

• One afternoon, King found himself drawn to a particularly intricate scar on his S/O's arm. With a gentle smile, he asked about its origin. Much to his surprise, they responded with a whimsical tale involving a mischievous fairy and a grand adventure through enchanted forests. Their eyes sparkled with mirth as they spun a tale that left King both in awe and in stitches. Their ability to weave humor into their past wounds left him with a profound admiration for their resilience and strength.

🄱🄰🄽

• Ban, the immortal bandit, watched his S/O intently, his gaze tracing the contours of their scars. His own body bore the marks of countless battles, but the scars etched upon his S/O's skin held a different significance. These were the remnants of a past filled with near-death experiences—a testament to their indomitable spirit and unyielding will to survive.

• Curiosity piqued, Ban playfully inquired about the story behind a particularly long scar. Without missing a beat, his S/O launched into an elaborate tale involving daring heists, ancient curses, and legendary treasures. Ban's laughter filled the air as he recognized the familiar twinkle of mischief in their eyes. Their ability to make light of their scars and transform them into tales of adventure only deepened his admiration for the person they had become.

🄴🄻🄸🅉🄰🄱🄴🅃🄷 🄻🄸🄾🄽🄴🅂

• Elizabeth Liones, a gentle and compassionate soul, found herself inexplicably drawn to a unique individual. Her significant other possessed a body adorned with scars, reminders of a past brush with mortality. While these marks would evoke concern in most, the reader had embraced their scars with a lighthearted spirit, using humor as their shield.

• Their casual and playful nature, mixed with a touch of mischief, led the reader to respond to inquiries about their scars with the most absurd and outlandish explanations. When someone curiously asked about the origins of a particularly prominent mark, the reader would flash a mischievous grin and spin a tale about wrestling ferocious dragons in faraway lands or engaging in daring adventures that defied the laws of nature.

• Elizabeth found herself enamored by their S/O's remarkable ability to transform their past struggles into a source of amusement. She admired the reader's strength, both in enduring their ordeal and in finding the courage to embrace their scars with joy and resilience. Their vibrant spirit complemented her own compassionate nature, forging a bond that transcended the physical realm.

🄽🄰🅁🅄🅃🄾 🅄🅉🅄🄼🄰🄺🄸

• Naruto, the spirited shinobi, regarded his S/O with awe as he observed their scars. Each mark told a story of battles fought and hardships overcome. It was a testament to their unwavering strength and resilience in the face of adversity. But what truly amazed Naruto was their ability to bring levity and humor to the scars that once held painful memories.

• One day, as they strolled hand in hand, Naruto's curiosity got the better of him, and he playfully prodded his S/O about a particularly unique scar. With a mischievous grin, they launched into an outrageous explanation involving ninja cats, exploding watermelons, and a mishap with a particularly aggressive squirrel. Naruto laughed, the sound echoing through the streets as he recognized the playful nature behind their words. In that moment, he couldn't have been prouder of the strength and joy they brought into their lives, scars and all.

🄷🄸🄽🄰🅃🄰 🄷🅈🅄🄶🄰

• Hinata Hyuga, with her gentle demeanor and unwavering determination, found herself captivated by the spirit of her S/O. Their body adorned with scars, remnants of a harrowing past, only served to further ignite Hinata's admiration for their strength. Although the scars were a reminder of the battles fought, her S/O had made peace with their past, embracing life with a lightheartedness that was contagious.

• In the quiet moments shared between them, Hinata witnessed her S/O's resilience manifest in the most unexpected ways. Their scars became a canvas for their witty and outlandish storytelling, weaving tales so fantastical that laughter spilled from Hinata's lips effortlessly. From encounters with legendary beasts to duels with mythical warriors, their imaginative explanations left both of them dissolved in laughter.

🅁🄾🄲🄺 🄻🄴🄴

• Rock Lee, with his unwavering determination and unyielding spirit, admired his S/O's scars as symbols of their resilience. Their past had shaped them into a warrior, not defined by their wounds but empowered by them. As their relationship flourished, Lee discovered that his S/O possessed a unique ability to find humor even in the face of adversity.

• With a mischievous twinkle in their eyes, his S/O would concoct the most outrageous and exaggerated tales to explain their scars. From daring escapades atop towering mountains to epic battles against otherworldly creatures, their storytelling brought a lightheartedness that resonated with Lee's own zest for life. Together, they reveled in the joy of laughter, turning the scars of the past into badges of courage and absurd tales.

#nanatsu no taizai x reader #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto x reader #rock lee x reader #hinata x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader #elizabeth liones x reader #ban seven deadly sins #ban x reader #king seven deadly sins x reader #sds meliodas #meliodas x reader

[sethsclearwater]

synopsis: reader shows paul all touch doesn’t have to be sexual

warnings: tooth rotting fluff

word count: 1.57k

notes: i listened to “thinking bout you” by ariana grande on repeat while writing this. fits the vibes perfectly imo

…

paul was generally very rough around the edges. you knew he had a rough past growing up without his father in the picture and always did your best to be there for him on the rare occasion that he did want to talk to you about it.

most of the time, your relationship consisted of rough sex, cuddling at night, and him following you around just about everywhere you went as your personal bodyguard. though, you did occasionally get to see a softer side of him, something that you were slowly working at bringing out. 

you were in the bathroom of your shared apartment, getting ready to take a bath when you heard the front door open and close, letting you know that paul had just gotten home from patrol. sure enough, he came into the bathroom a few seconds later, smiling when he saw you, “hi princess,” he said softly, stepping over and pulling you into a hug.

you giggled, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him back, “you wanna come in the bath with me?” you asked, peeking up at him and smiling when he nodded.

he let you go so you could take your towel off, quickly stepping into the warm water while paul got himself undressed, climbing in a moment after you so he could sit behind you. you smiled, turning so you could straddle his lap, “i missed you.” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips which he gladly returned. 

tightening his grip around you, he melted into the kiss, holding you tightly against him, “you know,” you giggled as you pulled back a bit, much to his dismay, “we can be intimate without having sex.” you explained, leaning forward so you could gently thread your fingers through his hair.

he furrowed his eyebrows together, clearly not understanding what you meant, “i think you’ll like it.” you said softly, “c’mere.” you whispered as you squirted a little bit of shampoo into your hand, threading it through his hair which almost instantly made him putty in your hands.

you were surprised by how quickly he melted against your touch as you gently massaged the shampoo into his hair. his grip on your hips loosened a bit, instead attempting to mirror your hand movements and gently massaging your lower back with his fingers. 

you smiled, “you don’t get enough gentle love.” you whispered, “you deserve more of that.” you added, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

he watched you, clearly not totally sure how to process whatever it was he was feeling at the moment. whatever it was, you decided he must’ve been loving because of how he slowly leaned into your touch, letting you gently wash the shampoo out of his hair before you repeated with the conditioner a few minutes later.

“how do i…” he started, trailing off as he tried to figure out how to ask you how to reciprocate your actions. 

you smiled, “wash my hair?” you finished for him and he nodded, allowing you to take his hand and squirt some shampoo into his hand.

“jus’ be gentle. you know how to do that.” you said softly, “i trust you.” you added, both of you taking a deep breath together before he was running his hands through your hair.

he was hesitant at first, not seemingly particularly confident in his hair-washing abilities but when you closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh as he massaged the shampoo into your scalp, he seemed to gain a bit of confidence.

after a few minutes of massaging your scalp, he gently worked at washing the shampoo out of your hair, “that was so good.” you whispered, opening your eyes to look at him. 

he smiled a bit at you, it was new for you to see the notoriously proud man seem insecure about something, “i promise.” you added, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips which he slowly returned, clearly doing his best to refrain from getting rough with you.

you pulled away a few seconds later, “you wanna let me rub your shoulders?” you asked softly, knowing how often the muscles up there were tense for him.

he slowly nodded, dropping his shoulders as you slid your hands up his chest, coming to rest them on his broad shoulders and gently kneading your fingers against the sensitive muscles. he exhaled softly, his eyes closing at the first touch which almost had you giggling but you stopped yourself, afraid you’d stress him out if you did.

paul gently kneaded at the muscles in your lower back while you worked at his shoulders, taking time to relish in making each other feel as good as possible. after a few minutes, paul’s fingers slowly stopped massaging you and you giggled as you realized he had fallen asleep.

you were ecstatic to know he felt comfortable enough with you to let his guard down like that, something you didn’t think you’d ever get to see from him. you slid your fingers off his shoulder and down his chest, stopping when they came to rest on his abdomen. 

his phone lit up a few moments later and you reached over to grab it, seeing it was a call from sam. you picked it up, speaking quietly into the phone in an effort not to wake him up, “hi sam.” you whispered, attempting to contain your giggles.

“y/n?” sam asked, “isn’t this paul’s number?” he asked again which had you giggling softly, paul’s hands tightening on your hips momentarily as he subconsciously adjusted himself under you.

“yes it’s paul’s number silly,” you giggled, “but he’s sleeping so i answered.” you whispered, watching paul’s sleeping figure adoringly. in that moment it finally hit you how hard you’d fallen for him, just having him be vulnerable with you reaffirmed how deeply in love you were with him.

sam’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts a few seconds later, “okay well can you tell him to give me a call when he wakes up? nothing urgent.” he said and you hummed in response.

“i’ll let him know.” you whispered, both of you quickly saying your goodbyes before you hung up. paul let out a soft groan a few seconds later, gently squeezing your hips.

“who was that?” he asked blearily, slowly opening his eyes to look at you. you smiled at him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“jus’ sam. said it’s nothing urgent.” you whispered, sliding your hands up his chest and wrapping them around his neck so you could pull him closer to you as you kissed him again.

while paul continued showing you the gentle touches you had him practicing earlier, you melted into the kiss, holding him close to you. the two of you took your time with eachother, not in any rush to end the moment which was quite the opposite of how your relationship usually operated - both of you racing to the finish line.

when you pulled away for air, paul ran his hands up your sides, “you wanna get into bed?” he asked softly and you smiled at him, giggling a bit, “not like that i mean. jus’ wanna lay with you.” he murmured softly, almost as if he was embarrassed to be confessing this to you.

you nodded, not even knowing it was possible to fall more in love with him than you already had. he helped you out of the tub, both of you gently drying each other off before he was helping you into new panties and one of his oversized t-shirts. 

once you got into bed, paul was quick to pull you into his arms, resting his forehead against yours as he held you close to him. you smiled, peeking up at him, “you okay big guy?” you whispered teasingly and he nodded, offering you a soft smile.

“jus’ love you more than i thought i did.” his confession was hushed, almost like he was afraid if he spoke too loud he’d scare you off with the honesty of it. 

“i love you more than i thought i did too.” you whispered back, running your hands up his bare chest to cup his face in your hands. 

he leaned into your touch, seeming entranced by the softness of it for a moment, “i don’t deserve you.” he murmured, thumbs rubbing soft circles on your shoulder.

you shook your head, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, “yes you do.” you whispered when you pulled back, lips only separated from his by a few centimeters, “we’re made for eachother, remember?” you asked softly, referencing the imprint bond that effectively tethered the two of you to each other for the rest of your lives and then some. 

he took a deep breath, nodding as he let your reminder sink in. you slid one of your hands around his neck, gently threading your fingers through his wet hair and massaging at his scalp while the two of you just basked in each other’s presence. 

“i love you.” paul murmured as he closed his eyes, drifting off as he sank into your touch and you smiled, “i love you too paul.”

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote fluff #paul lahote smut #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote blurb #twilight saga #the twilight saga #twilight #twilight imagine #sam uley #emily young #jacob black #seth clearwater #embry call #jared cameron #quil ateara #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #edward cullen #Emmett Cullen #rosalie hale #jasper hale #alice cullen #bella swan #bella cullen #fluff #smut #imagine #romantic

[twogyuu]

[1240]

pairing: jihoon x fem!reader

genre: fluff(?) angst(?), implied exes-to-lovers, small town guy!jihoon, city girl!reader

warnings: none

wc: ~1k

a/n: this was born out of me moving to second/third ring suburbs recently and i don't really like it - i miss the city :')

also a small thank you to @wondernus for enabling this. ait takes is one comment from ya and i'm spiraling - truly powerful 😭🫶🏻

. . . .

They told Jihoon, if he wanted to find peace, to return to the strawberry farm. 

The sun that shone brightly without a hint of smog in the sky would heal his soul. The gentle touch of the fields of reeds swaying in the wind would heal the scars. The air was fresh and he’d feel less suffocated. Small town people were kind and everyone knew everyone – you were cared for, people asked how you were doing, and struck up long conversations about his mother’s strawberry fields and how the stocks were this year. 

Yet, the longer he stayed, the more Jihoon felt . . . well, the opposite. Sitting in the bay window of his childhood bedroom, guitar resting in his lap, while his eyes counted the same stars every night, he knew his heart yearned for the city. 

(For you.)

He missed the concrete pavement of the sidewalks he walked every morning on his work and every evening on his way back. The rhythmic beat of the rubber soles of his shoes pattering against the asphalt provided some sort of calm to the chaos of the rush hour. Perhaps it wasn’t “natural,” but he fancied the lights that lined the various shops that he passed by – in the winter, especially, when the city hung the Christmas lights along the lampposts and the bare trees. There were definitely all sorts of unpleasant smells, but there were also some to appreciate – like the buttery warmth of the fresh croissants at the corner bakery you loved so much. The thought of you dragging him out on a walk to purposely just walk by made him smile. Not to mention, there was comfort in being a lone fish (or a pair when he’s with you) in a sea of people crammed into a city. Doing things like this, loitering and ogling pastries from the window, was never second guessed; nor did the owner ever call you in for a long chat. The anonymity and ability to keep to yourself without anyone thinking you were cold or weird was even better. 

The city was bustling and the stories of millions of people’s lives unfolded here; yet somehow, his and yours seemed special. 

So, perhaps those people lied. 

Maybe, the city was better and the artificial world somehow, ironically, also brought life to his being. 

Hence, this was why Jihoon found himself mindlessly slipping on his jean jacket and quietly sleuthing past his mother who had fallen asleep watching TV on the couch, letting his heart take him where he needed to be instead of where he thought he should be. 

His feet led him to the train station, catching the last ride before it stopped going to the city for the night. The train car was empty sans an elderly couple who had fallen asleep in the corner, heads atop one another. The metal box creaked and the tracks were bumpy, jostling and swaying Jihoon often as he tried his best to stay awake. Every now and then, the light coming from the lightbulbs on their last fuse would blink as they hold onto their last thread of life.

It was already 4AM when he reached the city station closest to you. To his luck, when Jihoon walked out of the underground tunnel, it was raining. Moving mindlessly, he had forgotten his phone at home. He couldn’t call anyone, he couldn’t pull up a map; but, Jihoon knew this route to your apartment by heart. 

Rain drops pelted against his porcelain skin, clung onto his black locks, and soaked into his jean jacket. He squinted, blinking rapidly to clear his view as he trudged in the direction of you. He walked this path like tracing the lines on the palm of your hands. 

The bank was two blocks away, then he’d turn left at the corner 7/11 with the broken ‘7’ sign so it just said ‘11’; walk another block and turn right when you see the daycare where Seokmin worked. If you go up to the very top of the hill and then a little bit over, your apartment sits by a row of rusted blue mailboxes. 

Jihoon is not sure when or why, but somewhere along the way he started running. His arms cut through the rainfall, his shoes sloshed water onto the back of his pants. The world around him melted and became a blur, his eyes zeroed in on the faint red door that belonged to your home. 

He raised his fist and knocked firmly for four beats – four to tell you that it was him. Most people only knocked for three. The walls were thin as were your curtains. He saw a flicker of lamp, then a stir followed by the padding of your slippers against the hardwood floor. The doorknob jiggled as you undid the various locks. Though it was only a matter of seconds, it felt like eons for Jihoon. He waited for you with bated breaths, chest rising and falling with each one.

The moment he saw a sliver of you, he pushed his way in and wrapped you in an embrace. The soft scent of your shampoo wafted into his nose, the landscape of your body against his own felt familiar despite your baggy t-shirt and pajama pants. You were stiff at first, surprised by the sudden hug, but were quick to relax into him when you realized it was Jihoon. Your arms settled into the small of his back, your index finger tapping at 74 beats per minute like usual – Jihoon knew because he counted once. Your clothes were getting wet and rain was seeping into the annex of your front door, but for now, it didn’t matter. 

“You’re back,” you mumbled into his shoulder. 

“I’m back,” Jihoon repeated. 

Silence, then a beat. 

Jihoon held onto you a little tighter, pulling you closer into his chest. He pressed his cheek against your own, the cold of his skin against your warm one sent chills down your spine. 

“I missed the city,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “I missed you.”

#woozi x reader #woozi fluff #woozi scenarios #woozi angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios

[sunshine-scented]

Can you do a Nezha x reader fluff

Thanks

There isn't really any specifications on what you wanted which was stated on my Introduction post, which is also a pinned post on my page. I will let this slide, once, however, any other request like this will be deleted. Just don't do this again okay~?

❀ I worship you ❀

: Oh how much he craves to be in his darling's arms. But considering on your playful behavior, just how far was he willing to go just to receive a single spec of your affection?

: Nezha x gn!reader

: Fluff! However, it gets a little bit suggestive towards the end since I got carried away haha~

He felt annoyed down to his very core of existence, not only did a bunch of low life demons tried to pick up a fight with the deity and attempted to steal some of the artifacts and relics he was ordered to protect, but he also remembered that Wukong existed and that made him even more annoyed.

He sighed for the uptenth time as the days and nights started to move slower and slower, as if they were mocking him in sadistic glee. His mood only dampened.

Maybe if he could just immediately kill anyone bad in this world, that way there would be any problems for him, or perhaps him having the ability to clone himself over and over again would lessen the stress.

Nezha could only think about the what ifs, but his body stays in the present. Dull and boring, stress inducing planet with it's disgusting creatures.

Suddenly, he heard footprints coming his way, the palace walls echoed as he stills, like a snake ready to pounce on his prey. Watching, wating, listening.

He pulled out his staff and prepared for combat with a furrowed brow and pointed it towards the door as it slowly starts to open, with it's stone and marble dragging against the tiled floor, his grip on the staff hardened.

Carefully stepping into the palace, you passed through the door without a second glance, meeting eyes with your lover.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, suddenly all of the stress and annoyance he felt was gone in just a glance at you, suddenly all he felt was nothing negative but the need for your comfort.

Suddenly he felt okay, because you're here

"(Name)" he said your name in subtle fondness "What brings you here in this domain?"

You smiled and waved your hand at him "I'm just here to collect a few things the jade emperor requested of me" you explained, walking towards some of the relics "What is his reason? Honestly I don't know. But orders are absolute, I would rather die than question his Majesty" Nezha followed you as your hands grab onto the small white bag the emperor gave.

He watched you carefully from your shoulder as you handle the relics with gentle movements with your hands, carefully taking off the glass chamber from the rose golden table and keeping the relics snug into the bag.

His mind starts to wander, how would your hands feel in his? Would you treat them with the same fondness you had with the relics? Would your warmth spread all over his body until it reached his very core? Would you trail your hands all over his hair if he asked you to?

Perhaps it was the stress finally piling up on him, but his thoughts were plagued by the thought of you. He needs your touch, he craves your warmth, he—

"Nezha?" Your voice snapped him back into reality "Are you okay? You've been staring at nothing for a wh—"

"(Name)..."

You turned around to see him already staring at you, his brows furrowed as his gaze never left yours "Touch me"

Your eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting such a bold request from Nezha himself, yet he stayed the same, as if he was unfazed by his own words, as if he meant everything he said.

You stared at him, still perplexed by his actions, yet, you can't stop the amused smile etching onto your face "Oh? What's this? Poor little Nezha missed me too much, hm?" You teased as you dragged your finger into his chest, slowly going down futher, and further.

His breath hitched, mind dizzy and sight complete blurred out, his head felt like exploding as his heart was beating out of his chest, attempting to separate from his body from how hard it was beating, it rang in his ears.

Oh how adorable he is to you, getting all worked up over a finger, however, you quickly took your hand back, away from his body and playfully clicked your tongue "As much as I love you, I don't think I want to give you any of my affections" you mocked in fake pity.

"You might have to work for it to get what you want, Nezha ♡"

The playfulness in your tone and that mischievous smile you make drives him crazy, he huffed a breath out of spite but made no further complaints as he started to walk closer to you, your bodies touching by a mere inch.

He pins you between his arms with his hands resting on the table behind you, never touching a single molecule of your figure. His eyes stayed focused as his breath got heavier "Please.." he started to lean his face closer to yours until your lips are barely touching with his "I want your hands on my skin, I want to feel your every part touch me bones deep"

He started to grip the table, crumpling the ironed sheets "I want you to hold me, kiss me, make me all yours all over again" his brows furrowed even more as his stare becomes more feverous, yet his stance less stable.

"I want you to ruin me with your love, if it's the last thing I do"

You chuckled, finding his bold confessions adorable as you tilted your head slightly to match his "As you wish, My prince~♡"

As you can see I have a new favorite

#lmk #lmk x reader #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #monkie kid nezha x y/n #monkie kid nezha #nezha #nezha x reader #lmk nezha #monkie kid nezha x reader

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson Two Preview

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Read Lesson One Here

THE FULL FIC IS NOW POSTED!!

This is a fanfic preview. If you want to see more, please like, reblog, comment, and follow my library blog @sundropslibrary so you can see the full version of this fic when it comes out!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Word Count: 1600

Warnings: this is a preview, so the full fic will have more explicit themes and further warnings (which will be posted on that version of the fic when it's posted); there is no explicit sexual activities in this section, but there is sex-adjacent acts; public/semi-public 'sex'; risk of getting caught; dom/sub dynamics, aspects of an ongoing dom/sub relationship; the reader is dominant and Spencer is submissive; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mentions of the reader wearing a dress; some strength kink (the reader exerts her physical strength over Spencer and he likes it); mentions of a safeword being in place but it's not used; the reader calls Spencer 'pretty boy' and 'baby'; hair pulling (Spencer receiving); heated making out; humping through clothes (mostly from Spencer toward the reader); Spencer has to ask permission to touch the reader; groping over clothes (reader receiving); Spencer calls the reader 'Miss'; mentions of Spencer cumming in his pants; I believe that's it for this section.

A/N: The fic isn't finished yet, because I am trying to focus on the Halloween fic. But I am really excited about it so far, and I wanted to post a little preview of it to give you guys an idea of what the fic is gonna be like (the entire outline is finished, and I only have a few sections left to write before editing). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think of it.

...

“Come here.” You told him, giving a gentle tug on his elbow that you were holding. 

Naturally, entranced by your every movement and having nothing but the ability to follow you - Spencer walked on easy feet, guided by you as you marched across the room with purpose. He thought perhaps you had seen a painting that particularly caught your interest across the room, or that you were finally ready to leave and it was time to go home and get his reward. 

But what happened next, he certainly did not expect. 

You pulled him toward a dark curtain that was labeled with a sign - Employees Only. 

Last time he checked, you hadn’t gotten a job at a museum. 

He found himself slightly filled with anxiety at this fact, but you seemed entirely unfazed. 

You simply pulled back the curtain and used Spencer’s anxious confusion to your advantage. You shoved him in first before he could question you, and then you climbed in yourself and carefully adjusted the fabric so it would seem completely undisturbed. 

The area behind the curtain seemed to be nothing more than a long hallway with a few doors. It was clearly a lesser traveled area of the museum - a few of the lightbulbs overhead blown out and not replaced, the floor dingy and dusty. Perhaps those doors led to storage rooms or the place’s security facilities - but either way, the two of you weren’t supposed to be here. 

His insides filled with panic at the idea of getting caught. 

“Y/N-!” He called out your name harshly, but you cut him off by putting a hand in the middle of his chest and shoving him back against the wall. 

Hitting the wall easily knocked the wind out of him. It was a surprising amount of force - you were much stronger than you looked. Of course, he had seen you take down suspects before. He had witnessed you tackle grown men to the grown with ease and marveled in awe at your strength, but you had never used that kind of force on him. He had never imagined what it would be like. 

He found that it turned him on more than he could have imagined. The presence of your hand fisting the front of his sweater vest spreading a dizzying heat through his body. He stared at you with parted lips and a slacked jaw as the lust and shock overtook him. 

“Are you gonna be good for me?” You asked. 

You stood away from him for a moment, removing your hands from him completely and leaving a few inches of space between your two bodies in the dim, dingy space. 

You were giving him a clear opportunity to use his safeword if he truly wasn’t comfortable with fooling around in such a public space. 

“We - we’re gonna get caught!” He whispered urgently to you, his voice hushed but still strained at the very thought of it. 

You found it entirely adorable - how scandalized he was by this. You had done far worse and you hoped that you could get him to sink to your level over time. 

“You let me worry about that, pretty boy.” You told him firmly. “Now - are you gonna be good for me?” 

You asked one more time, your voice demanding and hopefully fully relaying the meaning of your words. 

Spencer had a choice. 

And with you standing there, staring him down with heat in your eyes, looking like such a vision of lustful beauty, when he had been waiting so long for your touch, for your attention… it wasn’t much of a choice at all.

He only wanted you. 

“Yes.” He squeaked out quietly, swallowing thickly around his own doubt. “Yes, I’ll be a good boy.” 

You grinned a wide Cheshire grin at his words, and in a moment, you were on him. 

You possessively gripped at both sides of his blazer, easily bending him to your will. You surged forward and met him as you forced his body to bend downward, capturing his mouth in a demanding, heated kiss.  

It was a tiny murmur in the back of your mind that this was actually your first kiss with Spencer. You had already seen him naked and made him cum, and you were just now getting to taste his sweet lips. It was a funny thought. 

In that moment, any worry about potentially getting caught easily flew from Spencer’s mind - any logic quickly dripped out of his ears. 

He moaned beautifully into your mouth, and as you echoed a sound back, you had to wonder why you hadn’t kissed him sooner. He seemed to be a natural at it - or, this was the one thing he had some real practice at, which you were entirely thankful for. His lips were smooth against your own, heated and desperate, surging forward with intense gyrating motions - almost as if he was trying to consume you with his intense hunger. 

Though in a moment, he easily fell under your control. 

When you reached a hand up to the back of his hair and took a tight grip there, holding him like he was a beautiful object that you owned, just a toy for you to play with. He let out a sharp whine from the back of his throat, and his jaw fell slack for a moment, allowing you to bite down on his bottom lip - hard, assuring him who was in charge. The shock of pain from the bite had his hips bucking forward, and surely enough, you felt him fully hard, brushing against your hip through both of your clothing. 

“What do you want, pretty boy?” You breathed against his lips. 

Still desperate, needy for contact, he left a sloppy kiss on your chin before he spoke to answer the question. 

“C-Can I touch you?” He whimpered out quietly. “Please.” 

Your lips formed a wicked grin against him at this. 

“Anything over my clothes.” You told him. When his hands still hung limply at his sides, you threw in some encouragement. “Come on, baby, touch me.” 

You did have to wonder if he would have been bold enough to try and reach under the hemline of your dress; what he would have done if his fingers got as far as your underwear. But with your instructions, he had full access to your ass and breasts and you were curious to see what he would do within the rules. 

You dove in for another kiss, boldly possessing his mouth with a commanding strength once again. He whimpered against your lips and - feeling as needy as he was, he eagerly followed your instructions and began feeling you up over your clothing. His hands started out humbly on your hips as your experienced, certain lips battled against his needy, rapid ones. But soon enough, he became anxious and impatient with simply grabbing on your love handles through the cotton of your dress, and he needed more. 

You yanked on his hair again and took advantage of his gasp-parted lips to shove your tongue into his mouth, your body pressed firmly against his with him leaning against the wall for support. His hands began to eagerly wander, consuming your flesh for the first time and truly getting a taste of what it was like to not just be commanded by you, but what it was like to be with you. 

He began grabbing the roundness of your ass in needy handfuls, his touch truly exploratory - he didn’t touch you with any skill, didn’t touch you like he was trying to get you heated and turned on. He touched you because he wanted to touch your body, badly. He was simply displaying his own hungry need for you without even considering shame in doing so. 

And that was something that caused you to moan into his mouth as you raked your tongue along his teeth. He even reached a hand up and shoved it between your two bodies, groping at your breast with absolutely no grace. He was digging his fingers into the flesh like he was trying to rip it off your body and possess it entirely - it was something so filled with need that it made you so damn hot, made your cunt ache between your thighs. 

You knew that you wouldn’t be able to end the day without cumming - whether it be with his help or simply having him watch and beg to touch you.

You had so many plans for him. And you couldn’t wait to see them all play out before your eyes.  

You felt his erection against your leg, throbbing with just as much need, and you felt that devilish urge rise up inside of you again. 

You pulled away from his lips with a wet smack, the realization hitting you once again that - yes, technically, you were in a public setting. The thought sent a thrill through you, but you had to be at least somewhat careful, lest you get caught. 

“You like touching me, baby?” You cooed against his cheek. 

“Yes, Miss.” He breathed out. 

When you opened your eyes partially, you had to contain a gasp. 

His glasses were fogged up. 

Just like something out of your fantasies, his glasses were clouded with steam from the heated exchange. But he didn’t seem to notice or care. From what you could see through the layer of dew, his eyes were screwed shut and he was far too focused on his lust. He was concentrating more on groping your breast with one hand and your ass with the other, giving small, aborted humps against your hip, clearly trying not to cum in his pants. 

Oh god. You wanted to see him cum in his pants. Badly. 

And it was rare that you didn’t get what you wanted.

#sundrop writes #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

[moderator-monnie]

Before The Ritual (A COTH Story)

Dr. Ivo Robotnik, otherwise known as Dr. Eggman, was currently sitting in his lab, infuriated as always. He threw some papers off his desk and sighed heavily.

One hand was on his chin, and the other was tapping against his table, mumbling some things to himself quietly.

"Drat that damn hedgehog... Always getting in the way of my plans, he is truly a worthy adversary, but if I want to get rid of him for good, I need the ultimate plan! What haven't I tried? What could I use? Now that is the question at the end of the day."

"Perhaps a doomsday device? Hmm, not too predictable. Maybe I could touch upon the metal virus in a new light? ... No. Not too dangerous. I made some mistakes with that attempt. I didn't even think about my own safety."

"Maybe upgrade Metal Sonic or bring Tails Doll and Mecha Knuckles out of retirement? Could I even make some robot copies of the rats' other friends? That lemur would make an interesting machine. NO NO, none of these plans work!"

He soon laid back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He didn't want to work himself, but Sonic was a powerful foe and quite intelligent too, even if Eggman wouldn't admit it out loud.

"Just what can I do? What would really wow him? WHAT CAN BEAT HIM FOR GOOD? THERE MUST BE SOMETHING I'VE MISSED, IN MY RESEARCH OF MOBIUS!!! AN ULTIMATE WEAKNESS!"

Suddenly, a red light flashed in the room, and Sage appeared, sitting on his work bench, kicking her legs before clearing her throat with a gentle smile and a wave and speaking. "Hello Father, I see you are stressed over finding a way to, and I quote, 'crush that blasted hedgehog' may I offer my assistance?"

Eggman sat up in his chair, letting out a hearty chuckle before looking at his AI daughter. He took her words carefully and rubbed his chin before responding. "Ah, hello, Sage. Hello, it's nice to see you. You know what? You might just be what I need; a fresh eye on things would definitely help me figure out exactly what I need to defeat Sonic once and for all."

Eggman put his hands together, striking a pose. "You have access to my data banks along with the internet, correct?"

Sage nodded softly. She then teleported away, inserting herself into the main computer and combing through it rather quickly.

A sudden dinging noise was heard, and Eggman could see some files being downloaded, but he allowed time for Sage to explain what they were for.

"Father, I have discovered something you may have overlooked. You are aware of Grandfather Gerald Robotnik's research into the gods of Mobius and of humanity, correct?"

Eggman's eyebrows rose, wondering where his daughter was going with this, but he was quite curious as well. "Why, yes, Sage, I'm aware of all this; why did you bring it up? I've tried using god-like creatures against Sonic before, like with Dark Gaia and Chaos."

Sage soon pulled up some semi-corrupted files she had dug up. She is in the deepest parts of the internet, and Eggman's own files are on the main computer screen.

"Well, Father, you may have overlooked something. Its origins are not exactly clear. It's commonly unknown if humanity or Mobians discovered this entity, but unlike many other gods of Mobius and Earth, this one has not only been proven to exist to some extent."

"This God, or rather god-like entity, can control dreams themselves and is not physical, at least not without a host body to call its own; it has the ability to interact with solid objects, but with a host body, epically one with a high enough chaos energy.

And given enough time. This entity could possibly even put all of Mobius into a slumber of its own control, one they can't wake up from without its consent."

Eggman began to smirk very widely as he got up out of his chair and looked at the screen widely, seeing all the files Sage showed him.

"What a very interesting find, Sage! I'm very proud of you, but what makes you think we can control it and have it help us get rid of Sonic?"

Sage blushed. She had stars in her eyes for a moment; she was always happy to have her father be proud of her, but she soon cleared her throat and continued.

"Ahem, ah, right, you are father. The reason why I believe this entity would help us is due to its documented nature. It has been shown in the past to love pure chaos, and what would be more chaotic than helping you take over the world?

"Sonic would have no way to stop it either, due to it being far more powerful than him. And Sonic can't simply attack something while he's asleep now, can he, Father?"

He nodded along, listening closely before using a virtual glove he made to be able to pat Sage on the head softly, and then sat back down, carefully reading all the information Sage had brought up.

"Correct, you are Sage; that hedgehog would stand no chance of something he can't even interact with. I shall begin preparations. I see this 'god' has some ties to the chaos emeralds. 

So perhaps I can build a new robot, one that can harness chaos energy without directly needing the emerald, in order to create the perfect host for our friend to take possession of, and with us working together, friends can finally win! I'll need to be careful though and build in some safety features so I can control the robot once our friend takes it's new body."

"Though I shouldn't make the controls too obvious, otherwise strike this 'god's ire."

With a few clicks on the screen, a few images and historical documents showed up, revealing something quite interesting to the doctor himself.

A strange golden arch was under the site where Angel Island once stood, back when it was just a normal land mass.

"How in sweet mother Gaia did I ever miss such a thing during my many trips to Angel Island?"

He zoomed in on the photos, inspecting them closely, and wrote a few things down on his notepad. Not much information seems to be known about this historical sight, but a few tablets were recovered from the sight itself, written in a language similar to the ancients themselves but different.

All Eggman could gather from the rough translations he could figure out was one word: 'Zepperaith'. He would need to travel to the historical site, inspect this golden arch up close, and figure out its secrets.

"Zepperaith... I will unleash you upon this land, and SONIC THE HEDGEHOG WILL BE GONE FOREVER!"

Dr. Eggman began to laugh loudly, with Sage joining him quietly, with a new plan in mind. Perhaps this will be Sonic's downfall once and for all.

#Curse Of The Hedgehog AU #COTH AU #Sonic The Hedgehog #STH #Sonic Horror AU #Short Story #Dr. Eggman #Sage Robotnik

[headkiss]

anna can I request a hurt/comfort with joel, maybe trader gets hurt and he goes batshit and takes care of her? I love the idea of him being TOTALLY soft for her. ugh I’m so excited that you’re writing for joel!!!

hiii tysm for requesting!!!! this is my very first joel fic (gasp!) so it’s probably not perfect but i tried my best! please let me know what you think <3 | 0.6k, hurt/comfort as soft as joel could be lol

The woods you’re running through are unfamiliar, the footsteps behind you growing louder against crunching leaves and twigs. Joel runs ahead of you, but you don’t miss the way he glances back every so often to make sure you’re there.

You can’t see the raiders that chase you, but you can hear them. The sounds are unsettling, and for one, stupid moment, you turn your head to try and spot one of them. Instead, you snag your foot on a tree root and end up on the ground.

Joel turns around as soon as he hears your small grunt. “Shit,” he helps you to your feet and looks you over as quickly as possible, an up and down flicker of his eyes. “Can you run?”

You nod, but as soon as you go to put pressure on your foot, pain shoots up your ankle and you wince. Just like that, you’re an inconvenience.

“You go,” you tell him. “I’ll just hide.”

Joel is always wary to let you join him on smuggling missions, and all you ever want to do is prove to him that you can help, that he doesn’t have to do it all himself. And now, you can’t even run. You should’ve stayed home like he wanted.

Sure, Joel doesn’t always want you to come along, but he’d never even consider leaving you behind.

“Shut up,” he says.

Your brows scrunch, but before you can say anything, he’s pushing a hand over your mouth and walking you backwards until your back is pressed against a tree trunk, Joel’s chest a breath away from touching yours.

You’re not sure how long you spend that way, breathing against his hand, his eyes, heavy and serious, locked on yours. Then, just like he was never there, Joel pulls away and peeks around the tree, making sure you’re in the clear. As much as you could be in the times you live in.

When he’s back in front of you, he bends down and kneels in front of you, pulling your pant leg up to get a look at your ankle. You’re forced to put a hand on his shoulder to stay balanced.

Joel’s hands are rough, strong and callused, but when they prod at your skin to see what’s going on, they’re delicate most of all. It’s a stark thing, having him be gentle with you when he keeps such a hard shell. You probably enjoy it a little too much.

He touches a spot at the back of your ankle that has you whimpering in pain. Though you try to bite it back, he hears you.

“You’re okay,” Joel says, so quietly it could be more for him than for you. He says it again, glancing up at you this time, “you’re okay.”

Joel knows you think he doesn’t want you smuggling with him because of your abilities, but he’s well aware that you can hold your own, that you’re capable. Really, he doesn’t want to see you in situations like this. Hurt.

He stands again. And then, in an action that makes you go still, he runs his hand over the side of your head, tugging a leaf out of your hair. Joel looks at it in his hand for a moment, then, snapping out of it, he tosses it aside and looks at you again.

“We have to move. I’m gonna help you, okay?”

“I-” you clear your throat, trying to find your words. “Okay.”

“Here,” he takes your wrist and pulls your arm over his shoulders, forcing you to lean on him as you walk. His arm wraps itself around your waist.

It’s only for support, you remind yourself. Only for help, even as his thumb traces small, seemingly unconscious patterns into your side over your jacket.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller requests #joel miller request #joel miller reader insert #joel miller blurb #joel miller blurbs #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller oneshot #joel miller story #joel miller imagine #joel miller imagines #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel blurbs

[elvestoneanzelote1]

𝙰:𝚗- 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙽𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚊.. 𝙸𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘!

𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚙𝚊𝚍/𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚟 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝙰𝚕𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚞 𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎, 𝚍𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝!.

Atsushi Nakajima the well known white Reaper of the port Mafia, as he have massacre a lot of people protecting the port mafia leader.

He is often viewed as.. A someone like dead itself but.. No one know that he view one as his light.. The life.

He recalled that day.

The day when he was saved by the boss, Osamu Dazai..

He close his eyes for mere seconds in thought..

He still recalled that day when his eyes landed onto the e/c eyes that were talking to Dazai who at that time.. Was an executive.

-----𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍--

The hallway seems to be dull walk as Atsushi stood beside Dazai who was talking to his sensei, the taller male who was staring at him then at Dazai.

"Dazai, Whom did you pick it up this time?" You said while massaging your forehead as Dazai chuckle slightly.

"Sensei! Meet Atsushi Nakajima, He is my new student!"

"Oh" you muttered out letting out a sighed then glance at him who, flinched by your stare.

"If, you ever need help regarding important stuff you can come to me or Boss Moro, especially if Dazai is acting like a (bitch) ..nuisance" you said almost said what you were thinking as Dazai pouted.

"Mo~! Sensei you said as if, I annoy you"

You just stare at him for a while as he pout more.

Atsushi stare at the small quarrel of Dzai pestering to you as you were just staring and sighing st his antics.

But it went silent when Atsushi felt a hand on his head. He gaze up and stare at the e/c eyes that's held warmness as you softly smile at him.

"Welcome to Port Mafia, Atsushi Nakajima" you said as his eyes stay staring at you as Dazai cling onto your arm saying to pat him to making you sighed yet softly smile and pat Dazai too.

All Atsushi was stare at the conversation of you and Dazai as it.. Look.. Like a cute moment as you were eventually smiling softly at Dazai who was telling you the story of how he found Atsushi.

But you quickly left when, the current Boss (past) of Port Mafia Mori called to you and eventually took you away making Dazai frowned as you seems to be okay to leave with Mori regarding whatever Mori wanted to discuss.

"Someday.. I will make sure Sensei, will have all attention on me" muttered Dazai to himself as Atsushi eyes widen a bit yet he kept quiet.

But he couldn't help but missed the touch of your gentleness on his head.

---end of past memories.

His thought were jumbled out as many things were of a blur yet he still recall some Of how you were around the port mafia.

That was until.. You suddenly left after the dead of Ougai Mori. You left..

He still recall that day..

.

.

.

.

The day he begs you not to leave.

Beg you to stay...

Beg you to at least stay more longer..

For the sake of Portmafia.. For the sake of Dazai.. Your student..

For the sake for him..

Yet, all you did was just blankly stare at him when he on the ground bleeding out unable to win a battle against you, as your spear was bloodied, so were your gloves.

Your eyes no longer held the warmness that he yearn as his Renerate taking slow pace to heal as his ability was not that strong compare to you.

"Please.. Don't leave.. Don't leave us.. Don't leave.. Dazai-san.. Don't.. Leave me.." He muttered out as he try to stand ready to fight you till he could no longer stand or breath.

Or as long as someone come to stop you.

Your eyes that used to be the light now was dulled as you stare at him.

"Why.. Why are you leavin?" He asked as you approach him and kneel to his formed that sat on the floor as his legs were crippled twisted in another way.

"I have no reason to stay here anymore" you simply said.. Like you sounded as if it was just that.

He stared at you with his eyes so red.

"There is a reason! Dazai-san will need you to be here.. The whole port mafia need you... Even I do please.. Stay.."

You gently shook head and pat his head as softly and gently which he almost forgot his pain.

"Nakajima, I know you will be able to control your ability through Dazai, and no he doesn't need me anymore"

He try to deny yet, you shook head as eyes look so dull and lifelessly stare back at his, you weren't smiling.. No.. Why weren't you smiling like you used to.. Why was your eyes so dull?

"Why..?" He muttered out as you stood up as he try to grasps your coat but failed to.

"Port Mafia.. Is no longer.. where I, belong to" you said as the footsteps of yours went dimmer by dimmer as he sat there staring at the floor feeling nothing but emptiness.

'Why.. Is Port.. Mafia.. No longer.. Where you belong?'

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

His mind of thought came to a halt as he picked up the incoming call as he took notice of Dazai.

"Hello? Dazai-san?" Muttered out Atsushi as the receiver coughed once.

"Hello.." Said a very familiar voice as his eyes lit up as he know who it was.

"Y/n-sensei!" He said almost to cry out in joy.

"Yeah..its me.. Um.. Your Nakajima.. Right?" You said unsurely on the phone as he said yes trying to know why you called and if.. It mean something good as maybe Dazai-san convince you? Or even better your coming to Port mafia?

"Yes it's me.. Sensei"

"..uh.. Well can you come.. At the B block (r/p) (random place area), with a car?" You asked as he was confused by your request.

"Is, Dazai-san with you?" He asked as you said yes confirming it as he was relief in a way.

"A-alright" he said quickly as he close the phone to quickly call anyone from port mafia who drives to come and pick up or sent a car for him to drive (though he is not a good driver)

After a while he reach the place with the driver (who fortunately came or else Nakajima might crash the car or sort).

"Sensei.. Dazai-san" said Atsushi as he took notice of you holding Dazai (I don't know how to explain it) as Dazai look kinda drunk muttering some stuff.

"Can I, rely on you to take him now?" you said as he quickly helped you to carry Dazai from you but Dazai hold your arm refusing to let go.

"If I, let you go, you will leave me again sensei!! You always do! Always! In every universe.. you do! You leave me! You leave me again and again!!" He whined.

Atsushi was having an existence crisis of what to do yet you eventually kept Dazai on the passenger seat and then face Atsushi.

"Here" you gave the Dazai phone to Atsushi while about to leave.

"Sensei.. Will you.." He stopped himself from speaking as he have lots to say yet, he paused himself to do so as its been years since he last saw you.

Your eyes and expression stayed the same like the day you left.

"No, and i, shall take my leave" you simply left without another word after as he stood silently as words seems stuck to his mind yet, he glance up determinedly as he watch you go.

'No matter what..  I will find a way for you to come back to port mafia!' He thought determinedly.

'And when that day comes, where you come back to Port mafia and if I know what leads you leave, I will do anything to know, for you.. Anything..'

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A:n- that's all good day/night to you all! Hope you have a great day ahead.

#yandere bsd x reader #yanderenakajima #yandereAtsushi #yandere bsd #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #yanderebsdxmalereader #yandere x male reader #yandere bsd x male reader #x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere atsushi #yandere Atsushi x reader #yandere Atsushi x male reader #yandere osamu dazai #yandere Atsushi Nakajima #atsushi nakajima

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 9. Missing Star [A3]

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Brandon

Setting: Delaford Estate

Continuation of: Prompt 1. Chimney Soot & Prompt 5. Grave Of Snow

A/N: It's been a moment since we last saw our dear Colonel who kicked off Rickmas2023 - shall we return and find out what's been brewing since last time? 🤭 I'm very excited to share this one, I ended up staying up kinda late yesterday to make sure it would be ready for proofing this morning but I think my late-night brain did a good job - and the nicknames in this one! I love nicknames! 👀👏

I also started working on tomorrow's prompt yesterday night as well - breaking off the serial theme with a Brandon One Shot tomorrow that I think will be a bit longer 😂 It was gonna be just like 1k (for my sanity's sake) but I'm already on 2k and I think I need another 2k at least to wrap it up nicely 🙈 I really am terrible at keeping things short, but I think this one is gonna be really good so I hope you're excited for MORE Brandon content tomorrow, feels like he's really popular among my readers this year 🥰👏❤

Tags/TW’s: Emotional Turmoil, Classicism, Mutual Pining, Love Confession, Hand Holding, Hand Kissing, Feeling Less Than Worthy, Sort Of A Proposal? Feels… like, feels, you know?

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.1k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• Brandon •⩥

He watched as you walked into the room, timid and quiet in your movements despite the commanding dress he’d had made for you. Ever since he had disclosed those bold words of your effect upon his heart from the first moment his eyes had found yours, well, he had perhaps been too bold in stating such a fact openly, without barely knowing you. Yet, how could he not? You were a vision as grand as any illusion conjured in the Sahara. As wonderfully sweet in demeanour as a gentle deer in any lush forest where hunters did not exist.

How, on God’s green earth, could he not fall for your beauty? The gentleness he had witnessed in those eyes of yours, framed by soot and ash, over a week ago. The sweetness of your words as you spoke of him as if he were another man — he knew now, of course, you had not known who he was. That you had treated him kindly and spoken only kindness of a man unknown to you based merely on the words of a friend had only engulfed him further in your beauty.

The moment he had entered his bedroom, seeing you in his bed dressed only in a nightshirt and free of any soot or ash for the first time, his judgement had taken flight and abandoned him with no wits. You had disarmed him so fully, so easily, so honestly — he often found himself to be at a loss for words in your presence. Sure, he was a man of few words to begin with, but never had he lost the ability to form sentences of the simplest kind until you appeared.

As you walked toward him, your eyes cast down while simultaneously flicking about in what appeared an effort to not look at him had his heart twisting uncomfortably. You were far younger than him, but not as young as to it not being within reason for him to house such feelings, surely? The very idea you found him… unappealing , made a coldness slither along his back and stiffen it. But as your eyes darted to his for a moment, there was a small hesitant smile across your lips just a mere step before you were stood by him, beside the naked tree within the ballroom. He wished desperately to reach out and clasp your hand, kiss the back of it and offer you anything within his reach no matter where in the world anything lay that was your heart’s desire.

His hands ached with the want to hold you once more, as he had caught you when you stumbled out of the chimney like his own blessing from the stars, or when he carried you from the forest and had the honour of feeling nearly all of you pressed against him. It was not proper, nor had you indicated he was allowed to touch you in any manner. He cursed his errant heart's desires when there was so little evidence regarding your feelings on the matter.

“Miss Y/l/n,” he said quietly, a deep rumble he couldn’t control. “Colonel Brandon,” you replied gently, sweetly. He wished for the world to fall away so he could speak with you clearly, could affirm the words he’d spoken a week ago the day he first met you and subsequently fell into the pit of desperation and want unlike any he had ever experienced.

⩤• You •⩥

You didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to act or even what to do with your fidgeting fingers. He looked at you with such a strange sensation in his eyes. There was nothing but gentleness and kindness visible in them, but the sensation was another matter entirely. Ever since he’d spoken those words, of you breathing life into his heart, your world had tipped on its axis and realigned itself to centre around the gentleman who now spoke so few words to you. Had he perhaps misspoken? Was he changing his mind about the declaration which had nearly burned your skin with its warmth?

You stood beside him, your hands clasped before you while you both looked at the naked, magnificent tree the servants had carried in that very morning. “Such a beauty,” you said with awe as your eyes travelled up to the top where a star would soon sit. “Indeed,” the colonel said in a quiet murmur and you turned to smile at him, only to find him already watching you. Your cheeks heated under that intense look of his.

“Miss, are you finding my estate to your liking?” he asked, yet another question only asking of things that held little importance. Why you wished for him to take a deeper interest in you you could only say was due to the warmth spreading within you each and every time you saw him. “You have a beautiful home, Colonel,” you said and he smiled that little smile of his before he looked away. Could I do it? You wondered. Could you, perhaps, ask a more personal question to show your interest in him?

“Sir,” you began but kept your eyes fixed on the tree as he made it hard to speak without stuttering or stumbling over your words. “Is there-, is there a lady of the house?” You nearly sucked in a breath at the most forward question, you hadn’t been in the servants’ quarter long enough to hear any gossip and now that you were there as his guest they only greeted you with formality. Even Mrs Garber had abandoned any real friendliness and adopted the behaviour of you being a higher citizen. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. They were all very nice, friendly, and even kind. They were a happy staff, yet there was no real friendship to be found for you now.

As the silence stretched on, you dared take a peek, only to find him looking at you with barely any emotions in his features; as if he were holding himself still and indifferent. “There is not,” he said after a moment. “Oh, I would have thought-, I mean given-, umh, I…” you stuttered as his eyes never left yours, it was as if your mind could not properly function when he watched you and the way your body nearly purred when he was close had you vibrating as he was just within reach but never actually touched you in any way. It was proper. But it was maddening .

“Given, what? Do explain, miss,” he said, but it wasn’t derogatorily put. A genuine curiosity lingered in his dark voice edged by a warmth unlike any other. “Well—” you averted your gaze and began fidgeting “—given how handsome and kind you are, Sir.” Where the boldness came from you had no idea, but the words had been on your tongue for close to a week now. “You think me handsome?” he asked, a stunned sort of air to him. “Who would not?” you asked, turning in the process to look straight at him. “You are a handsome man.” “I am old,” he countered while for the first time lowering his eyes away from you. “We have a different opinion of what old means, Sir.” “You say that word, in a specific manner, miss.” “What word, Sir?” “That word.” “Sir?” “Yes, you speak it with such respect.” “I have the utmost respect for you, Sir Brandon.” He tilted his head at that, studying you closer all of a sudden.

“Is this due to my age?” he asked, circling back to the subject you held little regard for. You didn’t see an old man, only a handsome and kind one with a strange sort of distance to him. “No, Colonel. I’ve heard stories of you through the city, my former master spoke highly of you but with a certain distaste for your gentleness as he was a cruel—” You shut your mouth before another word could slip out. “Continue,” he ordered. “I do not like to speak ill of—” “Is he the reason you are fidgeting with your hands so incessantly?” It wasn’t a question so much as a quietly spoken demand for answers. You only nodded. “His name?” “I shall not speak, Sir. If you’d excuse me, I do not feel well all of a sudden,” you said in a quick lie. The memories of Lord Burlington were still too fresh. Your skin and flesh still felt the sting of his crop, held by him or his loyal butler.

You walked far too swiftly towards the door but before you could open it a warm hand grabbed yours. You froze mid-step as lightning seemed to strike you from his soft but steady touch. “Miss,” he said in a quiet drawl. “You shall speak the name so I can sever all ties.” Those were the words he spoke but the threat under them was far clearer than you’d care to admit. “You wish to shame the lord?” you asked. “He is but one of many who treat us with… severity.” “I wish to invite him to the day I shall make you mine, and he shall see what a beauty he harmed and realise he is done for, my sweet.” “The day—” Your breath hitched as his hand tightened only for his eyes to widen a second later and release you.

He turned away, his hand fisting before relaxing as he watched the naked tree while your blood pounded in your ears and your heart hammered beyond what should have been possible. The tension lay thick in the air while the silence stretched. “I have spoken too rashly,” he admitted. “Forgive my assumption, miss.” “A-assumption?” you managed to force out between laboured breaths. “That I hold a candle bright enough to capture your flame. Much like this tree misses its star, you have been my missing star. Bright, gentle, light…”

The words he spoke, so kind but sorrow-filled, twisted your heart as you watched his usually straight shoulders slump. You’d spent a week falling for him from a distance. Each gentle word to his staff, every confident step, all the little looks and smiles gifted in your direction. A true gentleman at heart, holding the respect of many yet naming you his missing star — the most important decoration of a Christmas tree and guiding light to those lost.

“Sir…” “Do not fret, my sweet,” he interrupted without looking at you. “I am accustomed to rejection.” “Accustomed to— What? Colonel Brandon I—” “It’s been many years though, as I’ve not offered myself to anyone. Before you, it was never anyone of true importance either.” “Importance? Sir, I’m a scullery maid. I have no—” “Do not finish that sentence,” he said as he swung around, his gentle eyes widened. “You are of the greatest importance, little star.”

Your mouth turned dry while your stomach churned and warmed under his stare. The harshness that mingled with the kindness in his eyes was a warming thing to be witnessed by. You wished to feel those strong arms wrap around you, holding you close while his gravelly voice whispered those sweet nicknames which had from time to time slipped out of that thin mouth of his you wondered what it felt like to kiss.

“I’m not rejecting you, Sir.” Those were the only words you managed to push out as your throat closed up. His brows lifted, surprise marring his face. “You-, you are not?” he asked and you shook your head. “Then, what are you doing?” “I-, I-,” you began, but how were you to speak of what he made you feel? He, a respected colonel with such grace and wealth to him, was far beyond your reach. You had done your best to tamper down your feelings, the building need in your entire body for him which only grew with each passing day.

You took a step back, as if your body knew it could not have what it wished for and tried to increase the distance. “Do not walk away from me, miss,” he said, but there was no harshness to his voice. “I’m not worthy,” you whispered. “My heart says otherwise.” “But I’m not— And you’re—” “My sweet,” he said, interrupting your clumsy attempt at forming words. “You are far beyond worthy. I knew, from the moment our eyes met and you spoke so kindly. There is more value in you, my missing star, than most in high society.”

You shook your head, as if you couldn’t believe the words he spoke. Yet, the moment he grasped your trembling hand it was as if the world fell away. There was only him, his kind eyes, his sweet warmth. The soft touch of his thin lips against your knuckles nearly had you undone right then and there.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: How are we feeling? 👀🙈 Gosh, I loved writing this one - it just feels so right for Brandon to be like this - I hope it hits the mark for you too! Also - I'm really getting into the thick of Christmas prepping now - I will do my best to post fics as early in the day as I possibly can but it might fluctuate a bit 😅❤

Q: What Rickman character would you prefer to be snowed in and stuck with for a week in a somewhat realistic setting? A: For me, it would have to be Snape - the magic alone makes him a prime candidate for making the week better 😂 Cold? Use a charm. Thirsty? Use a charm. Moving furniture? Use a charm. Can't reach the blanket? Use a charm. 👌

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[Dec:2023]

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