#“But I earned the trust of a few over time.”

[faithshouseofchaos]

Leaving it all behind blurb — A day at the garage — Max verstappen x reader

Word count— 550

Fluff

The sound of clinking metal and the faint scent of oil filled Max’s garage, a small, rustic space he’d claimed as his own in the past year. The walls were lined with tools he’d carefully organized, old car parts stacked on shelves, and a few posters of vintage cars. It wasn’t much compared to the opulence of his father’s world, but to Max, it was everything. It was freedom, and it was his.

He wiped his hands on a rag, leaning under the hood of an old Chevrolet that had seen better days. With a practiced ease, he twisted a wrench, humming to himself as he worked. It was a rhythm he found himself settling into more easily than he’d ever expected, and he realized he’d come to love the slow, deliberate pace of life here.

The bell above the door jingled, and Max looked up to see a familiar face—an older man from town named Harry, with a bit of a limp and a smile that always seemed to hold a story. Harry had become one of Max’s regulars, always in for a tune-up or a quick fix.

“Hey, Max!” Harry greeted, ambling over to lean on the car next to him. “How’s that beauty lookin’? You work wonders on these old things.”

Max grinned, giving the car a pat. “She’s got a few more miles in her, I’d say. Should run like new once I’m done.”

Harry nodded, watching Max work. “You know, I don’t know much about your life before this, but I’ll tell ya, you’re good with these cars. Got a steady hand and a patience that’s hard to come by.”

Max chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I just enjoy the work. It’s honest, you know?” He looked at Harry with a sincerity that surprised him. “Feels like I’m building something. Fixing things that actually stay fixed.”

Harry gave a knowing nod, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a good way to live, son. Lotta men your age don’t figure that out till much later.”

Just then, Max’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he saw a text from Y/N. Lunch in an hour? We miss you.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he quickly typed back, Wouldn’t miss it.

Harry noticed the look on his face and chuckled. “Family man too, huh? Good to see.”

Max’s gaze softened. “Yeah… I never thought I’d get to be, but here we are.”

A few moments later, after Harry left, a younger customer came in—someone from the local college with an old Jeep that needed serious work. Max leaned in to explain the issues, patiently guiding the kid through options for repairs that didn’t involve duct tape. It was these small interactions he’d come to appreciate—the sense of being part of the town, the quiet trust he’d earned over time.

As the day wore on and he continued working, Max felt the satisfaction of doing something real. In every car he fixed, every handshake, every smile he earned, he felt a little more of the weight of his past lift away. Here, in this small garage, surrounded by tools and grease-stained walls, he was just Max—the man who fixed cars and went home to a family who loved him. And, for the first time, that was all he needed.

[pricegouge]

Eirēnē

price x reader one shot

cw: femme, soldier reader. implied fit body type. pegging. slight spit kink. mild angst but a happy ending. MDNI

"Oh, big stretch." It's playfully patronizing; an affected air to hide the undercurrent of genuine pride. John's always liked watching you push your limits, but raw affection has no place here in his bed - always kept carefully at bay, dropped with his tac gear by the door, or maybe even further back, in the field, when he ducked his helmet against yours with a quiet 'well done, love,' barely audible over the din of exfil, ripped away in the impending whorl of hele blades. 

He praises you here as well, but never as an equal. You're a plaything when he's got you pinned under him. He toys with you the way you imagine he's toyed with cute little things all his life. John doesn't strike you as a bully by any means, but you've seen first hand how he can turn a compliment into a debasement by simply dropping his pitch a few octaves. It leaves you unmoored, dragged in and out of your arousal by self-conscious turns which he soothes with sweet kisses and gentle touches.

They sting worse than the words.

He's got his thumb against the seam of you now, pushing at the tender skin where it is indeed stretched wide around his cock. He's overconfident when he mouths off about how good it must feel, but his eyes betray him as they always do: reverent, tender, yes. And envious.

It took you months to see it. As a rule, by the time he got like this, you were already too fucked out to notice. You fear you never would have, had this slippery slope you'd both found yourselves on not started declining further by the day. You might slip more often, but he's bigger. Falls harder.

It's the vulnerability that tips you off. 

'You're only ever satisfied when you're taking my cock, aren't you darlin'?' it began, a mocking smirk pressed against your lips as you pouted about being given nothing but his fingers. 'That feel good, love?' he'd ask, palm grinding into your sex as he fucked you shallowly, watching himself disappear within your body. Then 'tell me how good I make you feel,' turned into, 'tell me how good it feels,' while 'need me to fix it?' became, 'fuck, sweetheart, please.'

Now you watch him back, entranced by the way he cannot look away from where your bodies meet. It's early yet. He has all his faculties. Still, his gaze is anchored to the stretch of your cunt. "You could cum like this, couldn't you?" he asks, thumb tracing up to your clit. "So full I don't even have to work for it. Just stuff you up and press this button, eh?"

You nod but he's not looking. His thumb pushes against you cruelly as punishment for your perceived silence. "Yes," you hiss and he hums, eyes bright with mischief.

"Show me, then," he says casually, rocking himself that final centimeter deeper as he starts playing with your clit exactly the way you like it. You bear it in stillness and silence for as long as you can, but the quiet sigh he eventually earns himself is like a floodgate. Once your mouth is open, jaw relaxed, your soft noises continue, and then your hips are canting just enough to work against his rhythm. You don't last long enough to test your theory that night, not when John stays as buried deep as he can get, rocking shallowly into you just so he can feel the head of his cock drag under his palm where he keeps it pressed into the soft flesh of your belly. It's vulnerable, makes you feel field dressed, gralloched. 

His own tummy jumps when you palm him there in turn, his cock twitching within you as he groans like he's been gutshot, falls limp over you just the same.

You find out days later that you can make him a desperate, gasping mess by just leaving teeth marks there, working him in your fist while you hide your bite among the soft hair of his underbelly, the most defenseless part of him - too low for his vest to cover; mobility at the cost of exposure. But he trusts you here, holds you close after the first few flutters of his panic settle. His cum stripes your chin when your free hand palms his heavy sac, one finger settling lower, along the seam of him. 

John does not ask you. You wonder sometimes if it would be a bridge too far, playing into the role more than he is comfortable with. Then, John being comfortable with any of this is a stretch, as evident in the tension of his brow when you finally get him on his back, the sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat when you work your second finger in alongside the first. You think it's more than he can take, but he outright whimpers when you go to pull back and you can't help but laugh when he wraps a strong leg around your waist to hold you close, his voice like gravel in a cement mixer when he chokes out a quiet, 'don't you dare.'

Don't laugh, don't stop - you're unsure so do neither as you settle yourself deeper within him, fingers probing, just exploring. Taking your time.

The toy he'd bought you - ostensibly - is bigger than he is. Will sit deep within him, proportionate to how he fits inside you. You're not worried it will please him, but it's hard not to be at least a little jealous of his big hands when your fingers can't reach deep enough to do anything but press fluttery pulses against his prostate, only make him tense and sweat when you want to make him cry and beg. It's an instinct that grows with each passing minute, John's impatience - and ability to articulate it - damn near hurting your pride.

He wants to be made vulnerable, has entrusted you alone with the task, though you can do little more than tease him on your own.

But you've always been resourceful. Learned from the best.

When you do pull away, John's hole tightens around your fingers so hard you imagine you would be unable to escape if not for the copious amounts of lube you'd used while working him open. He doesn't pout the way you would have, his frustration instead leaving him with a strangely bull-like huff. You shush him anyway, soothing the emptiness with two thumbs quickly hooking into his rim, testing his stretch with a quiet, disapproving hum.

"I don't know, cap. Don't think you're ready for this cock."

John's neck flexes when he tilts his head back, the thick cords on full display when he swallows heavily, jumping past the strain in his throat. "Oh, fuck you."

"Not tonight," you counter absently, sinking your thumbs to the knuckle just to watch his hole try to wink around them. When you remove them completely, you drag slick trails of lube through the coarse hair there. "It's these little fingers of mine," you pout, wiggling them at him illustratively. "Not gonna cut it, I fear. Be a doll and open yourself up for me, hm?"

He looks like he has something to say to that, but it gets caught behind his teeth and to your surprise he only rolls, gets his knees up under his hips so he can kneel before you, brace most of his weight on his left hand which he plants firmly on the bed. You don't comment on the practiced ease with which he reaches back and coats his fingers in the sticky lube which drips from his hole, nor the way his breath catches when his fingers do. Whatever this is, this practiced confidence, this was never intended for you and you're loathe to have taken it from him.

You're more loathe he's kept it from you at all, but you stay just as silent as him.

John works efficiently, doesn't even take enough time to let the pleasure build. You think about guiding his hands but falter, too scared to take too much control. Instead you keep his cheeks spread for him, warm extra slick between your fingers before letting it slip from your grip, watch as it slips into his greedy hole. You want to tell him how good he looks, but you don't want to embarrass him, either, and your words die in your throat, dry and brittle, because John is not usually so quiet as this during sex and if he needs the silence, you will not be the one to break it.

He doesn't speak when he's decided he's stretched enough, either. Simply lays down on his belly with his legs stretched out between your own. You hum appreciatively, chance to ask if he's ready for you with a quick, assessing swipe of your finger across his loosened rim. With the muscle lax and unfurled, your digit catches and tugs, draws a low, startled grunt from him before he clears his throat and nods, voice thick when he says he is.

You remember the way his stomach tensed under your palm, the way he cradles the back of your head when you get his balls in your mouth, pressing the ring of your teeth closer. John does not ask for this, at least not verbally, but you know what he wants. John's never led you astray before, and he doesn't now, so long as you know what to look for. He does not want to be responsible for this, to tell you when he's ready. The added tension of it, your expectation that he make a decision at the one time he wasn't expecting to, it collects tangibly in the iron of his spine, the clench of your jaw. In the silence of the room, you hear the spiderweb break of the fragile gift he's given you and you still, coltish legs on too-thin ice. Misguided. Not a concept you've had to worry about since coming under John's captaincy. You've grown lax

"Tell me how good it feels."

And maybe it's okay that you've let him crumble, just a bit, because he shatters beautifully when he knows you'll keep him together.

John's voice is still tight when the head of your cock catches on his rim, the words pulled from him like tangled fishing line, each confession pulling clotted debris from the silt of his vitals. It's good, a stretch, he's full.

You can't help the cruel laugh that builds at that last, flex your hips down into his to sink incrementally deeper. "Not yet, you're not."

The quiet snarl is the only warning you get, John's palm reaching back to wrap around your hip with the same quick reflexes that have kept him whole so long. He rips back whatever control he's ceded with just as much ease as he pulls you into him, a rough grunt the only indication he gives of any potential discomfort from the sudden intrusion. Still, you lean against him heavily so he can't move you manually again, create a rhythm for himself that you haven't authorized. You don't let the doubt overcome you, know this is no less than the last desperate gasps of any bound animal. 

You settle him just the same, warm hands on his flank and soft reassurances, your low murmur spilled across his shoulder because he's far too tall for you to lean over properly. "Easy, baby. Give yourself a minute to adjust."

A dog that's slipped his muzzle, John still shows his teeth. "I can take it."

"Don't care what you can do," you counter, bearing more weight down on his back as you slip your free hand under his thick chest - a poor approximation of the way he effortlessly comforts you in this position, the tenderness he doesn't even mean to give. "Just care about what you want to do."

Though he remains unsettled, John's voice is less clipped now despite his words. "I want you to move."

Impertinence sits on your tongue - begging for it already? - but you know better than to test his patience when he's already got himself so wound up over nothing. He's a man unused to this position, figuratively and literally, and you take pity on the perceived bruising of his ego, even if it is self-inflicted. "I'll take care of you," you promise instead, and have to bite back the swell of pride in your chest when the tension of his back slackens incrementally.

"Know you will, love."

The first slow pump of your hips is shallow, experimental, your body acquainting itself with this new movement. John offers no encouragement, but you take his lack of objection for it anyway and gain confidence with each thrust, your strokes growing longer as you learn how to properly brace your weight. 

The harness you've chosen rests low on your hips, the base of your cock digging into your mons each time you bottom out within him. It's a low simmer of pleasure, not distracting enough to keep you from your main aim, but enough to get your hips snapping slightly into him, a rhythm you double down on when John's breath stilts and he shifts subtly, bracing himself to ensure your movements are well met. It's unnecessary - his bulk far too much for you to move with so little engagement - but appreciated all the more because of it.

"Feel good, John? You like having me so deep inside you?"

When he looks over his shoulder, you can see the pinpricks of sweat collecting on his temple. "Let you know when you fuck me proper."

You laugh catches in your throat, more a startled breath than true amusement. "Cheeky," you grumble, then shift up onto your knees and brace your feet over the backs of his calves, using your too-wide stance to your advantage when it means you can't hold your weight on your own. You sink further into the clutch of him, the base of your toy flush tight to his rim, and John swallows thickly, throat flexing. 

The angle is difficult to work but worth it, the way John's head hangs limp between his shoulders the only encouragement you need to plant your hands on the back of his tight waist and feel the way his abdomen flexes each time you let your weight drop back into him. You keep a steady pace even when he tries arching back up under you, inviting you deeper without speaking.

He didn't ask, but you knew.

You don't give him what he wants until he's biting back moans, his voice so low and shot you'd mistake them for the traffic outside if not for how acutely attuned you are to him, your pace quickening just to chase the harefooted pulse in his neck higher. 

When he bites your name out through clenched teeth, his breath condensing in the hairs of his forearm, you tell him to beg. 

"Shit… fuck." You see the muscles of his back bunch when he plants his hands under his shoulders, the tension in his spine when he debates bucking you off of him. And then you plant your feet under yourself, sacrifice depth for power on your next thrust and he whimpers, dropping back to the mattress with a reedy whine. 

You give him a few more, exact copies - the movement already imprinted on your mind like a ballroom basic (Quick learner. Lethal. Brutal. You'd read his reports on you) - and peter off you hear him choke off the next thin groan. 

"If you're not gonna beg for me, at least let me hear those pretty sounds." To prove your point, you grind in hard against him, hips angled to hit that spot that had earned you a whine to begin with. You chuckle when it works again, voice dripping with a cruelty you didn't know you were capable of when it came to your captain. "I've earned 'em, haven't I?"

Another noise bubbles in his throat, pops with a breathy huff. You slip away from him, snap back, and revel in the clench of his thick fist against the sheets. "Fuuuuck. Yeah, love. Just like that. Alright. You've earned it."

He's a veritable font after that, tongue loose and spilling every thought. You feel carbonated, fizzy and staticky, listening to each noise and bitten off praise tumble past his lips. You want to kiss him, get frustrated when you can't reach him. The hand around the column of his throat to arch him backwards surprises both of you, kiss forgotten as you pant against his lips, your glutes burning as you try to maintain your pace. Silent now, John's throat can do little more than flex weakly under your palm as his jaw works, swallowing the spit you want to drink from him. You can't help a whine of your own when the harness grinds too low, too hard, and you bunt your forehead against his cheek, spine sagging just slightly.

"'S'it good, love?"

He doesn't even sound like your captain anymore, voice too quiet, vulnerable. Sinking for a moment into that soft space with him. But when you open your eyes and see his own looking back at you, expectant and eager, you steel yourself again, lips feather light against his ear.

"So good, baby. Taking me so fucking well. Look pretty like this, John," you admit, rambling on over the whine it incites. "Should get you under me more often, hm? Let you take this cock the way I know you want?" He slinks back to the bed when you let him, your palm petting heavily along his spine as he slips away from you. He doesn't try to muffle his noises in the pillow this time, breaths heavy and high as you build your rhythm back up, ignoring the way the harness slips against your sweaty skin. 

With your hands braced against his waist again, it's easy to watch the stretch of his hole where he accepts you so greedily. Even now it glistens in the low light, hair matted with the generous amount of lube you'd plied him with. Your cock is skin-toned, natural, glistening as if with slick when you work it free of him. You make it as loud as you can manage when you spit on him, delighting in the way his hole winks around the tapered head of your cock when he flinches in embarrassment, making it worse by taking the base in hand and slapping the head against the wet of it until he can't take it anymore, reaching back to try and grab your hip again. 

You're ready for him this time, slap his hand away easily, an odd contrast to the way you coo filth at him, call him greedy and just to watch his hole clench down again, a futile attempt to keep you out. When you spit on him this time, a half-hearted bid to ensure he could still take you despite his tension, he groans unabashedly and flops back down, boneless.

"Whore," you chide, and slip back to the base in one steady move, filing the way your gamble makes him keen for later.

Despite his submission, rigidity coils low in John's spine as you work yourself deeper, the muscles under your hand pulling taut as he accepts you. It pools in your own as well, a baseline pleasure you've done all you can to ignore. Your thumbs trace his ilium, feel the tightness of his fascia. One palm pulls the meat of his cheek away to bare his hole to you and then that same thumb slips lower, past the seam of him, and presses softly against his rim. 

You accuse him of being greedy and bite back a smile as John accepts this new intrusion with a slack-jawed moan, drool pooling on the pillow beneath him. You tell him he's being so good for you when your first knuckle slips past his slack hole, but you don't think it even registers, given the fucked out look on his face, the tight pinch of pleasure between his brows. You keep praising him anyway as you begin to fuck him again, your words a low undertone to the high pitched grunts he emits each time you slam home. With your hook him, John can't help but work his hips against yours, aborted little thrusts which you allow because there's not much you can do to stop him, not when he's so far past listening and you're no match for the powerful contraction of his thick thighs. It's a struggle to stay atop him but you manage, pushing him back down as much as you're able with your palms planted on his flexing glutes. To his credit, he regains some sentience when his cock receives sufficient stimulation, tucking his arms up under his chest to better work down against the mattress, slurring vague encouragement through spit-slick lips.

"C'mon, sweetheart, give it to me, please - fuck."

"Need more?" you ask, unsure how you could even give him what he needs when you're on the verge of collapse, untested musculature flagging by the minute.

"Just like that. Shit -!"

He cuts off with a cry when your second thumb slips lower, prods threateningly at the tight ring of muscle you've already worked too loose. "Big stretch," you warn, but make it no further than your nailbed before he's cumming with bitten off shout, hips stuttering as if he can't decide if he wants to fuck down into the mattress or back onto you more. You take the choice from him, bearing down with enough force to work your mound against the base of the harness, taking the edge off your own pleasure with deep grinds that have John babbling beneath you.

In the silence that follows, you slip free of him gently, massaging his glutes as you lay your toy between them, just listening to his breathing even out. For a moment you think it won't, and you slink down to lay across his back again, chest pressed to the lax muscles there to give him the same kind of grounding weight you love so much from him. John just reaches back to sink lazy fingers along your scalp, though, a satisfied hum leaving him when you tip off him sideways to spoon up next to him. Between you, your cock bobs ungainly, an unwelcome intrusion that keeps you from clinging to him. He laughs when you huff in frustration, watches you with one eye open as you fiddle with the clasps until you're free. He's good enough to roll onto his side when you lay back down, welcoming you into his chest with a warmth you're not used to seeing post-coitus, and despite the easiness of his hold on you, it puts you on your back foot, sends you spiraling back into reality - to your place behind him in the field, never his equal. 

He mistakes your stiffness for dissatisfaction at first, his palm sliding down your front unprompted despite his obvious exhaustion, his whole body wrung out and relaxed. It fills you with pride that you were able to do that for him, but it's a sour sort of pride, a noxious gas which bubbles within you, has you pushing his hand away before he's even grazed the thatch of hair above your sex. John grumbles, peeks down past his nose to look you over. His free hand finds the nape of your neck when you avoid him, tilts your face for his inspection.

When he asks if you're broken, your throat constricts, the words like a mallet knocking your panic loose. Your voice falters, stuttering past a protest which you can't quite form. John frowns down at you and that insufferable feeling of disappointment, of having let him down yawns beneath your feet, your axis tilting you over the edge -.

"What's wrong, love?"

It's too quiet to be the voice he uses in the field, too soft to be that patronizing tone he adopts when he's got you underneath him. Closer to the quiet murmur he imparts on you when he drags you close before exfil, those secret words meant just for you, his softest soldier who needs the gentle touch. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, but he's not having it, dragging you closer so you've no choice but to hitch your leg up over his thigh, expose yourself to him fully.

"Can't fix it if you don't tell me," he reminds you, and even that aches - the knowledge he'd trusted you with all this, and he still has to keep you together. 

"It's nothing," you assert, desperate to let him enjoy his come down. "I'm just being silly."

John just squints at you, testing. When he moves your hips down against his own, he tracks the slight flinch in your expression with open interest. "Doesn't seem so silly, lovie."

You still his hands, ask him to stop with regret tinging your voice. "I'm sorry, it's just -. I just -."

"You what, sweetheart?"

"Oh, don't call me that," you blubber, floodgates opening despite your best effort. 

To his credit, John seems to take it in stride, pulling you into his chest and tucking you under his chin. His hands are heavy and warm on your back where they soothe along your spine. "Okay, no sweetheart. How 'bout lovie? Or honey? Or -?"

"John," you whine, pushing yourself away from him with a firm hand on his chest. "I can't take it anymore! You're so… so…"

"So what?"

"So sweet! And it hurts too much, knowing I can't keep it, and -."

"Can't keep it?" he mutters, but you're too wound up to listen, rattling on about not know what this is, spilling your heart out about how you keep blurring the lines. 

John silences you with a kiss, far too slow and sweet to have been listening to a single one of your concerns. When he pulls away he doesn't let you go far, keeping you in the tight ring of his embrace so he can pepper bittersweet kisses across your cheeks. "You were being silly, weren't you, love?" he starts, and chuckles meanly when you swat at him, trying to squirm away. "Easy. Listen to me, sweetheart, okay? It's important." He waits patiently for you to settle, heat boiling under your collar as you meet his eyes. "Do you think I'd have let you do all that if this were just casual? Hm?"

Clarity swells in you like ocean tide, briny and bitter where it creeps up your throat. You open your mouth to answer but close it just as fast, afraid of what might come spilling out. 

"Just casual," John scoffs, pulling you closer and saving you from further embarrassment when he tucks you back under his chin. "If I find out you've been casual with any of the other lads I'm going to be quite cross."

You want to tell him it would be his own fault, or lie just to teach him a lesson. Mostly, you want to be offended. Instead you just shake your head adamantly, lips dragging across the coarse hair of his chest. 

"Good girl," he rumbles, and must feel the clench of your cunt against his hip because his hand drags down to your rear, pulls you impossibly closer. "Now, let's drive those nasty thoughts out of your head, shall we?"

[transificationbeem]

Headcanons/Dynamic stuff for rook and contentment:

Little bit of background on my Rook for context/those interested: My rook doesnt have a name other than "rook." He's veshothi, raised by two Tal-Vashoth in a mercenary company/commune that still used role-names, so his name before he came "Rook" was "Tamassran"; he was trained to be, and briefly was priest of an altered, Tal-Vashoth bastardization of the qun (affectionate) as well as the teacher of the groups children (so, yeah. Tamassran.) He's a mage, so healing rolled into that. When his gender (neither a man nor a woman) came to light, his parents demanded he either change roles or stay a woman. He ran off with a recent-to-the-company laborer Tal-Vashoth named Athlok, settling in the Anderfels not far off from Lavendal, though the village is gone by the time canon rolls around. Athlok and he have a kid named Sataia, he works as the village healer and tutors the local rural children (though it takes a bit to earn trust in a mostly human and elven settlement). The local mine gets overrun with darkspawn. Athlok dies. Rook is blighted. Recruited by the wardens. (Sataia is okay!) You get the picture.

◇ Rook was possessed by Contentment in a similar fashion to how Lucanis was by spite, only much late (post First Talon Lucanis). Ie: captured by the venatori, who thought doing to Lucanis' lover what was done to him (very likely to fail and kill him) would be perfect poetic revenge for Zara's death. Obviously this doesn't go well for them.

◇ Rook and Contentment don't start on good terms, to put it lightly. Rook is, frankly, petrified of contentment as an emotion and as a spirit (he can't afford to let down his guard, to get comfortable. He certainly can't afford to rest). It doesn't help that Contentment introduces itself by impersonating his dead husband.

◇ Rook was already on very good terms with Spite. He's spent the whole game trying to get Lucanis and Spite to see eye to eye. By the point contentment comes into play, Lucanis and Rook are an Item with a capital I (mechanically, they were locked in), and Rook was trying to figure out how to broach the subject of making this into Thedas' second Polycule-That-Includes-A-Possession (DA2 Anders and Justice I love you)

◇ Contentment is a LOT older than spite, though not necessarily more powerful, and generally treats mortals as playthings or meal tickets, usually both. They're a bit of a busy body, possessive, and generally unconcerned with anything that isn't making the object of their fascination as relaxed and/or blissed out as possible. They can come off as lazy and selfish given these are traits they like to try and encourage in their mortals, but that's not exactly the truth of the situation. They covet beauty, kindness, and acts of devotion.

◇ Contentment (pronouns are they/it) is already head over heels for Rook. They like puzzles, and a challenge, and Rook is so wound tight that getting him Unwound is both.

◇ Contentment is mildly curious about Lucanis. Right now it enjoys Lucanis' company because Lucanis makes Rook content, which makes him Useful. Right now they see him as a mortal worth "keeping"; they're very invested in Lucanis treating Rook right, which they don't really have to worry about (Rook, however, is VERY worried about the pressure contentment is putting on Lucanis, and is having none of this).

◇ Contentment and Spite HATE each other.

◇Spite finds Contentment arrogant, lazy, and selfish. Not only is Rook THEIRS, but Rook is far from happy with the current situation, and given Rook is one of very few people that really enjoys Spite's company, that's a big problem. It doesn't help that Spite is also pretty possessive, and that Contentment is far from nice to him.

◇ Contentment thinks Spite is immature, brash, and hates that he keeps calling them out when they try to manipulate the current situation in their favor. They're only doing what spirits of contentment DO; besides, all of this is in Rook's best interest (Rook very much begs to differ!).

◇ Spite keeps calling Contentment Desire, (with some pretty colorful adjectives attatched) which pisses them off to no end.

◇ Lucanis, by this point, is juuust starting to see eye to eye with Spite. They still aggravate each other, they'll probably never stop bickering, but he's softened on him a bit. Begrudgingly. Contentment is one of the things they really don't agree on, but warming up to Spite has left him a little more open minded about the whole thing.

◇ While Lucanis is wary of it, worried they'll take things to far, he could think of worse things than a demon trying to make sure his lover with a savior complex and "I'll rest when I'm dead" attitude remembers to eat, sleep, and relax once and a while. He's keeping a close eye to make sure Contentment never gets out of hand—just as Rook has been keeping an eye on Spite in the event Lucanis has gotten thrown into the back seat, so to speak—but he's not hostile. He's not unlikely to develop a crush, but right now Rook is too freaked out—and Contentment too unconcerned with that— for that to be paleatable to him.

◇ Eventually this is going to settle into a really weird polycule. I don't make the rules.

◇ Everyone else on the team is mildly horrified and also eventually amused. Lucanis and Rook initially try to sleep almost in shifts (and it isn't like Rook wasn't already doing that for Lucanis before this when he could) but sometimes they nod off at the same time and suddenly everyone else is dealing with Contentment and Spite having the arguement of the century

◇ The possession and the unusual way it came about has the unintended effect of Lucanis and Rook being able to see each other's demons when they want to be seen, as well as hear them and feel their touch. This has interesting results. Namely Spite and Contentment bickering in the background until Rook and Lucanis both tell them to shut up. Outloud. In front of everyone else. Who can't see or hear them.

◇ Spite is taking FULL advantage of being able talk to Rook and he is being insufferable out it.

◇ Contentment keeps getting into Lucanis' personal space in ways that are generally annoying. Also making a lot of wildly innappropriate comments.

@ab121500

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

don't answer if you don't wanna pep, but who else do you wish could have seen it?

Pep: "Em ekil... Srehto eht... Yeht..."

"I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In everything that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way I'll find you In the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you~

Pep: "Lla meht naht reggib tol a saw I. Deracs erew tsom kniht I. Airezzip ym morf yawa deyats srehto eht fo tsom. Tsrif ta enola saw I, rebmemer nac I sa raf sa."

Pep: "Emit revo wef a fo tsurt eht denrae I tub."

Pep: "Rehtegot yalp d'ew. Rehtegot tae d'ew. Rehtegot peels d'ew. Ecin saw ti."

Pep: "Meht tcetorp dluow I."

Pep: "Deneppah thgif eht neht dna."

Pep: "Hcum rebmemer t'nod I. Yrgna os saw I."

Pep: "Enog. Erew yeht, sesnes ym ot emac I nehw tub..."

Pep: "Enog tsuj. Meht fo lla... Meht fo yna dnif t'ndluoc I."

Pep: "Em ekat. Ti tel tsuj ot gniog saw I, llaf ot detrats rewot eht nehw..."

Pep: "Meht tuohtiw tniop eht eb dluow tahw...?"

Pep: "Mih fo ypoc evitcefed a gnieb ecnetsixe ym etipsed dna hguorht tnew eh lla etipsed em devas Onippep tub."

Pep: "Oot tuo tog yeht epoh I... Oot tuo tog yeht ebyam dna..."

Pep: "Sesimorp ym peek ot deliaf I fi wonk ot deracs. Si hturt eht tahw fo deracs. Deracs. M'I tub, hcraes ot deirt ev'I..."

Pep: "Dna ssarg eht dna-a yks eht ees ot teg yeht sepoh em fo trap tub-!"

Pep: *sobbing*

[dutybcrne]

Diluc likes to personally do the repairs and maintenance to not only his own weapon, but especially those of his most important people. He would always insist on personally handling Kaeya, later Jean's, weapons, throughout their time as Knights together, and even to this day gets salty if he happens to see either or even their weapons alone at Wagner's.

[gojosprettyprincess]

Jujutsu Kaisen Men + How they'd moan w/audios.

Tw - dirty talk, assplay in Suguru's, daddy kink in Nanami's, (Got a bit carried away in the geto one haha) also not proofread cause I got tired.

A/n this was requested so tysm to the person that requested it but a part of it is kinda a repost because I've already done something similar before but I hope you guys like it! Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Nanami

Gojo Satoru

This is how Gojo sounds when he's close. (Ik this because he fucked me before so you can trust me on this)

He's very loud when he fucks you and he'd also whisper a lot of nasty shit to your ears while he's rutting his hips inside you, fucking you deeper into the bed while he has your legs over his shoulders, hissing and groaning at the way your tight cunt sucks him in so well, while your sinking your freshly manicured nails that he paid for into his back, decorating it with angry red marks and when he's close he'd be panting and breathing heavily on top of you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead onto you from how much he's been fucking you.

"Fuckfuckfuck gonna fill you up so good baby, m'gonna stuff you so full of my cum, bet you'll like that yeah?".

Geto Suguru

This is how Suguru sounds while you're riding him in cowgirl position, he has a clear view of the way his cock slides into your soaked cunt every time you bounced on it, he just can't take his eyes off of it, the way your cunt would swallow his cock in and the way your ass jiggles every time you moved your hips, it was so hot. One thing that really caught his eye though was the way your asshole looked so neglected and desperate to be filled, he thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try something.

he spat on his right thumb, making sure to gets his spit all over it to use as lube before circling it around your hole, spreading his spit all around it then sinking his thumb slowly into the tight rim. He hisses as he felt how tight your ass was, clammed around his finger. He noticed how you started slowing down, and how your moans got so much louder, he lands a sharp slap on your ass. "Fuckkk sweetheart k-keep going, Fuck yeah, keep bouncing on my cock, yesss that's it, don't worry princess I'll make you feel s'good". He groans, feeling your cunt fluttering and cleaching around his cock.

He starts thumbing your ass, fucking his finger in and out of you matching your rhythm. "Holy fuck need you to cum, Be a good girl and cum f'me yeah?". He hisses, feeling you thrusting your hips faster and faster onto him, your brain gets all fuzzy and blank it was too much, both of your holes were getting stuffed and penetrated. You start feeling yourself getting closer and closer as you bounced yourself on top of him. "F-fuck sugu gonna cum, M'gonna cum!" you cried out. "Go ahead, cream on my cock baby you can do it fuckk", and that's all you needed to hear before you came undone, creaming all over his cock, rings of your nut appearing at the base of his cock, his thumb still buried in your ass to the hilt. He lets out a loud groan, looking at how your creamy cunt covered in cum. "Good fucking girl, see the mess you made on my cock baby?".

Toji Fushiguro

This is how he sounds when he's close, he doesn't really make that much noise while he's fucking you, maybe you'd earn a few groans and grunts once in a while because of your cunt but most of the time it's just dirty talk.

But when he's close, he gets so much louder and faster, he picks up his pace, hammering into you harder from behind while your face is buried into the pillow beneath you and landing harsh slaps onto the soft flesh of your ass while looking down to watch it jiggle everytime he thrust his hips against you. the sound of his cum filled balls that's waiting to be emptied inside your little cunny, slapping against your clit filling the room with each thrust along with your muffled moans. Your cunt was clamping around him like crazy because one thing about Toji, he always fucks you so good every damn time.

"Holy fucking shit, tight little cunt milking my cock so well, you gonna give me another kid baby or what?".

Choso Kamo

This is how he'd moan while you're on your knees sucking his cock and he's getting close; he'd be whimpering and moaning loudly while saying stuff like "pleasepleaseplease m'so close don't stop please" with tears prickling from his eyes while he's looking down at you. He begs you alot and he's also really sensitive so that makes him moan and whimper even more.

Nanami Kento

This is how he sounds when he's ramming his cock up into your poor messy cunny in his work office, purposely molding your tight hole into the shape of his thick girth as his large beefy hands gripping onto the back your thighs to hold your legs up into a full nelson-type positon but the difference is that he's sitting down and your back is leaning against his board chest.

His thrusts was hard and fast as he continues feeding your greedy tight cunt with his fat cock, loud pants and groans escaping his lips at the way your cunt tightens around his cock while he stretches you out. "Hah- oh fuckk such a good little slut, taking daddy's cock so well, s'good f'me baby". His deep and husky voice made you throbbing around his cock while he ruins you.

[gfmima]

category : 米哈游 原神 work title : another woman claims to be his girlfriend?

with a subtle bow of your head, you raise the teacup to your awaiting lips, a veil of porcelain disguising the laughter that threatened to escape. how absurd… you muse, as you savor a sip of your tea.

far across — two tables away, there sits one of the new acts of lyney and lynette’s show. she was interesting, to say the least. she sings tall tales with intricate detail, weaving major falsehoods about the nature of her relationship with him.

her words describe his love confession, demanding they be together because he couldn’t bear a day without her. she didn’t fail to mention how his sister adores her and refers to her as ‘my future sister-in-law.’

the outlandish narrative lasts with an overt nudge about his frequent visits to her dressing room after every show, which you tune out due to its unsavory implications.

most women would have risen from their seats, confronting her for spewing fantasies about their lover; not you, though. instead, you stay rooted in your place, your curiosity piqued for what else she might spin.

you were engrossed, and if you were to be fully honest, you would’ve readily admit to the guilty pleasure of eavesdropping on the mundane conversations of strangers. your penchant for gossip was shared with your lover, turning it into an unusual pastime. it was a fun exchange of information over cups of coffee or tea, normally ending with one of you left scandalized by what was said. archons, were you excited to tell him about what you overhead…

“do you swear not to say a word about this to another living soul?” her voice hushed to a near whisper, but it still carries to those within earshot.

“of course! right, ladies?” one of the women quips, with the other two chiming in agreement, creating a chorus of “yes!” and “we’ll keep quiet!”

“if you say so…” she takes a deep breath, as if the weight of her revelation was a heavy burden about to be lifted. “lyney and i are dating…” her shoulders then turn slack, exhibiting the instant wave of relief that washes over her.

you couldn’t help it; a snort of amusement passes your lips. it earned you a few disapproving glances from the nearby patrons, chastising your lack of propriety in a public setting.

she embarks on an exhausting tangent, yakking on the long months she had to weather before she could have confided in her dear friends about her supposed private affair.

she emphasized how lyney insisted on maintaining it under wraps for over a year — eh, wrong! the twins met her for the first time five months ago — out of his desire to protect her from the clutches of obsessed fans and admirers.

the longer she spoke, the closer her stories cross into more ridiculous territory. at one point, she spun a yarn about his grandiose profession of love for their anniversary, including dedicating an entire routine inspired by her.

however, what left you scratching your head was the lack of skepticism from her friends. a quick read of her body language would’ve shone a light at her deception. it had you questioning whether you had somehow gone mad or if they were genuinely as dim-witted as they seemed.

“i knew it! no wonder you’ve been smiling a lot  lately!”

“ah, i’m so jealous~! sigh, he’s such a handsome man.”

“so romantic… i wish that was me!”

assessing the present circumstances, one might figure you would now reveal all of her lies. you didn’t. rather, you found yourself more inclined to watch and observe how this fiasco will play out.

you trust lyney, enough to know he loves you and wouldn’t pursue another woman behind your back, especially a woman he and his sister worked with. it allowed you to cast aside your initial worries about her and her interest in him. regardless of your opinion, she did her job well, even though you secretly wished she wasn’t so uncomfortably obsessed with him — a notion she made no effort to hide.

clearly, given what you were witnessing.

“oh, look, ladies! here he comes!” one of their voices pierces the air, overtly eager to see the ‘happy couple’ they were led to believe. conversely, lyney’s self-proclaimed lover appears to be positively distraught.

the man in question enters cafe lucerne, his gaze firmly laid on you. he shows little to no mind towards the group of women who shadow his every move. he walks by and greets you with a kiss on the cheek, taking the vacant chair in front of you.

“and how was your day, ma belle?” he removes his hat then runs his fingers through his hair — a simple gesture that left you swooning.

his charming demeanor momentarily distracts you from the comedic disaster unfolding in the background.

it was a tumultuous stir of “huh… who’s that?” and “gasp, is he cheating on you?” while the two of you converse in mindless chatter. one second, he was recounting his chores for the day; and the next, three indignant women loom over him whereas the source of this mayhem cowers in the back.

“ugh, the audacity to have a mistress and meet her in broad daylight! you have no shame!”

he glances from you to them, genuine bewilderment etched upon his face. “i beg your pardon?”

“oh, don’t play dumb! you know exactly what you’re doing!” another of the women upturns her nose at him.

witnessing the heated back-and-forth, it was remarkable to find that even arouet was invested in the drama.

it transforms into a three-versus-one impasse, but you were impressed by how gracefully he navigated through their baseless accusations. the culmination of the situation came when recognized his ‘lover’ and didn’t hesitate to call her by name, pressing answers for the lies she’d been spreading to her friends.

“i think you’ve all been misled, the only woman i’m seeing is this lovely one right here.” he turns then directs the gentlest of smiles at you.

unable to resist the itch, you finally laugh at the sudden turn of events. karma was indeed on the prowl, and to be a bystander for the incoming argument after she made a fool out of her friends, just to feed her delusion, was gratifying… for one of you, at least.

“care to tell me what just happened?” lyney tuts, his fingers extending across the table to grasp your hand in his, urging to draw your focus on him.

“later,” you mutter, absorbed by the evolving spectacle. it’s obvious you both will spend the whole evening discussing this…

from the very start, you weren’t one to rejoice in having any eyes on you. it was natural your bond with the one and only wanderer flourished discreetly.

this change in your life required no announcement. it wasn’t information that demanded broadcasting to the world; it could exist on its own if someone were to ask, you’d directly confirm the status of your relationship. otherwise, you find it irrelevant to insert this in areas where it held no relevance.

in the comfort of your solitude, you thrive, cocooned from nosy onlookers. your happiness, his happiness — these two were what truly mattered to you.

as time flowed by, your connection deepened, evolving into a union that grew stronger with each passing moment you shared. it was a sensation both of you held dear, a genuine and keen emotion that, if you dare to admit, could be called ‘love.’

of course, you weren’t ignorant to assume that your journey would be obstacle-free. beyond his undeniable intellect and esteemed role as the assistant and confidant of the dendro archon, he also began to draw attention for his otherworldly beauty.

you were aware that you might coming across his admirers one day. after all, you weren’t oblivious to the wistful glances sent his way by other women, nor the coy attempts at flirtation. still, you hadn’t taken into account the unusual lengths some individuals would go to win even a sliver of his time and attention.

it was painful to watch their efforts be met with a scoff or a withering frown. on a good day, they might receive nothing more than a mocking, “what do you want now?” from him.

on a sun-drenched afternoon, you find yourself perched on the steps leading to the sanctuary of surasthana whilst you await his return from his meeting with lesser lord kusanali.

yet, the tranquility of the sacred place was soon interrupted by an unexpected revelation — you weren’t alone. a trio of researchers positioned themselves near the entrance, their presence blends into the revered location, evoking no more notice than the everyday sights that surround you.

the sunlight dances upon your skin as you, absentmindedly, fiddle with your bracelet, a habit that had taken root over the years. the food container you had brought stays on your lap, and you can feel its warmth gradually dissipate. a frown on your face as you whisper a plea that he arrives before the snacks you prepared grew cold.

your gaze strays and locks onto one of the women standing nearby. suspicion dripped from her eyes, it lingers far longer than you liked. at first, you considered it a peculiar coincidence — perhaps she mistook you for someone else she knew?

unable to contain her curiosity, she approaches you with an air of authority, disregarding her friends’ endeavors to stop her from creating a scene.

“state your business,” she dictates, her tone icy.

you stand unwavering, refusing to yield an inch in the face of her bid to intimidate you. “if you must know, i’m here for wanderer.”

your words invoke a profound reaction within her, it coursed through her like an attack. “well, save your breath and don’t waste your time bothering him.”

“why not? who even are you to tell me what i should do and shouldn’t do?” your cadence steady and colder than hers, a testament to the time you spent with your dear wanderer — it seems to be paying off.

you expected her to either insult you or begin a monologue about her superiority as a researcher, but her reply took you by surprise.

“i’m his lover, duh! i don’t appreciate you flirting with him.” then, in a single motion, she confiscates the container from your grasp.

glances were exchanged amongst her peers, who advance to mediate the interaction. one of them pulls her away and positions himself between you. “i’m sorry for her behavior, miss. her sleep deprivation has her spouting nonsense.”

“i am not! there are clear signs he feels the same way. we’re dating; he’s just very reserved about his emotions.”

before it can escalate further, a familiar voice slices through the tension like a blade. “where have you been?” he chides, as he descends the steps.

beneath his hat, you spy the glaring discontent he directs at these strangers for taking your time away from him.

when your eyes locks, his gaze softens. the sour expression dissolves and was replaced by a flicker of warmth. you offer a reassuring smile in his direction, a gesture that noticeably eases his mind.

he was a stride away from you when she, flaunting a smirk, stops in front of him. you lay a hand over your lips to quash your laughter after spotting the look of disgust he tosses at her.

“wanderer, honey!” she tries to touch his arm but fails when he sidesteps her. “don’t worry, i already handled this pest to lessen the burden for y—”

“who are you?” he sneers, and the haughty look on her face instantly disappears. she attempts to stutter a response, an effort to remind her title as his lover, but his menacing gaze he wore silences her.

“moreso, who are you to advise my wife what to do?”

eh? his wife?

“your wife?!” her friends turn pale, realization dawning upon them. they shiver at the thought of unintentionally crossing him, all thanks to her behavior.

“i-i just thought…”

“well, you thought wrong; know your place.” in a last display of irritation, he shoots them a cutting glare. then, he seizes the food container from her grip, his fingers then intertwine with yours as he guides you away from them.

as you walk away hand-in-hand, you cast a quick glance at her and stick your tongue out to mock her.

“i saw that,” he snickers and tugs you along, nearly causing you to stumble, “and you say i’m mean.”

“don’t get all smart, you called me your wife earlier.”

“shut up! it was meant to end the conversation early.”

[xo100]

Hey, can you write about landos gf breaking her arm and him taking care of her? like having to help her change and shower, doing her hair und stuff line that? thank you <3

In his care - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1562

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

Lando Norris had always been the playful, light-hearted boyfriend, the type to tease and make you laugh until your stomach hurt. But after three years together, there was a depth to your relationship that went beyond just the banter and the fun. He’d become your best friend, your confidant, and now, your caretaker.

You hadn’t expected to be in this position—broken arm in a sling, unable to do even the most basic things without help. It was a stupid accident, really. A slip, a fall, and now you were stuck in this uncomfortable, frustrating situation. But as it turned out, Lando was more than up for the challenge of taking care of you. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

-

The first real test came on day one, when it was time for you to shower. Lando, always the playful one, had teased you when he realized you’d need help.

“So, I get to see you naked... and it’s for ‘medical reasons’? Lucky me,” he said with a wink, earning him an eye-roll from you.

“Lando,” you groaned, cheeks flushing. “This isn’t exactly a fun situation, you know.”

But even as you complained, you couldn’t help but laugh. He had a way of lightening even the most awkward moments. His teasing helped take your mind off the discomfort and frustration of not being able to do things on your own. Lando knew when to joke, and when to be serious.

“I’m kidding, love,” he said, his tone softening as he walked over to you. “I’ve got you, okay?”

And he did. Gently, he helped you undress, his fingers careful around your arm. There was something about the way he moved—confident yet delicate—that made you feel safe. Vulnerable, yes, but never embarrassed. He was Lando, your Lando, and there was no one else you trusted more.

Once you were under the warm spray of water, he joined you, shampooing your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. It was a strange, intimate experience, but not in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. In fact, it was sweet.

“Maybe I should do this for you more often,” he murmured, lips close to your ear.

“You think I’ll let you wash my hair when I’m fully capable?” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm on your neck. “You never know, you might like the service.”

But as much as he teased, there was genuine care in the way he handled you. He washed every inch of your body with the gentleness you never knew he had. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest for a moment, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“For being... you.”

-

You never realized how hard it was to do something as simple as put your hair in a ponytail with one hand. By the third day, you were ready to give up on the idea of leaving the house with your hair looking decent. But, of course, Lando wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Okay, I’m going to do it,” he said, determination in his voice as he picked up your hairbrush and an elastic.

You sat in front of him, trying to keep still while he struggled to gather your hair into something resembling a ponytail. The concentration on his face was adorable—his tongue poking out a little as he focused on the task at hand.

“Lando, it’s fine,” you said after the third attempt. “I can just wear it down.”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m getting this right.”

It took another few tries, but eventually, he managed to pull your hair into a somewhat lopsided ponytail. He grinned proudly, admiring his work in the mirror behind you.

“Look at that! I’m a pro,” he said, obviously pleased with himself.

You laughed, reaching up with your good hand to touch the ponytail. It wasn’t perfect, but it was endearing in its imperfection.

“I love it,” you said sincerely.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your good shoulder. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

“You’re doing a great job, babe.”

-

As the days went on, Lando had to help you with more than just your hair. Getting dressed with one hand was a nightmare, and you hated having to rely on him for something so simple. But Lando, being the cheeky guy he was, turned it into something fun.

“Alright, love, what’ll it be today?” he asked, holding up two of your shirts. “Sexy red or casual blue?”

You gave him a pointed look. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, Lando.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re always impressing me, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at his words. He knew exactly how to make you feel special, even when you were at your most vulnerable.

“Blue,” you said with a sigh, and he grinned.

Helping you get dressed was, of course, another challenge. He was gentle but still fumbled a bit, trying not to hurt your arm as he guided it through the sleeve.

“Sorry, sorry!” he muttered as he accidentally tugged too hard on your sling.

You laughed through the discomfort. “You’re not great at this, huh?”

“Hey! I’m doing my best here,” he protested, but there was no real frustration in his voice. He was patient with you, and that was what mattered.

Once you were dressed, he stepped back to admire his work.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, a proud smile on his face.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, and he leaned down to kiss you softly.

-

By the end of the week, you were starting to feel a little more like yourself, but the pain in your arm was still a constant reminder of your injury. Lando, ever the attentive boyfriend, noticed when you were getting frustrated or tired, and he was always there to offer comfort.

That evening, you were lying on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, when Lando plopped down beside you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, careful of your injured arm, and snuggled up close.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice soft in your ear.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Just... tired of this.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you’re doing great. And I’m here, okay? For as long as you need me.”

You smiled, leaning into him. His warmth, his presence—it was everything you needed. You didn’t have to ask for his help; he just gave it freely, without hesitation.

As you lay there together, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your back, you realized how lucky you were. Not just because he was helping you through this injury, but because he was Lando. The man who loved you unconditionally, who saw you at your weakest and still made you feel strong.

“Love you,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Love you more,” he replied softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

And in that moment, broken arm and all, you felt more loved than ever.

-

As your arm started to heal, you began to regain some independence, but that didn’t stop Lando from taking every opportunity to tease you. He seemed to enjoy his new role as caretaker a little too much, and he never missed a chance to flirt.

One afternoon, you were sitting at the kitchen table, trying to cut up some fruit with your good hand. Lando walked in, immediately taking the knife from you.

“Let me help,” he said, leaning in close.

“I can do it,” you protested, though you didn’t exactly mind when he was this close to you.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but I do it better, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. He knew exactly how to get under your skin, but in the best way.

As he cut up the fruit, he stole glances at you, his smile never fading. “You know,” he said casually, “taking care of you has been... kind of fun.”

“Oh, has it now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, sliding a piece of fruit toward you. “I mean, I get to spend all this extra time with you, take care of you, shower with you...”

“Lando!” you laughed, swatting at him with your good hand.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you. “I’m just saying, maybe I should be your personal nurse more often.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your heart swelled with love for him.

“I know,” he replied, his voice soft as he looked into your eyes. “But you love me for it.”

And he was right.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

[solardrop]

love bites

spencer reid x reader

summary: a drabble where spencer won't give you a hickey on the neck tags: fluff some suggestiveness. no smut but its implied so ill say 18+. inaccurate medical discussions. talks about veins and arteries and strokes. i think this can be read as gender-neutral? word count: ~0.9k a/n: something short and sweet from my drafts I decided to pull out of hell so it's very rough around the edges but I still think the concept is cute! I was watching tiktok and a very qualified and well-trusted source said this can happen so obviously its a real statistic that spencer reid would believe. Let me live ok. Not proofread!!

“People actually underestimate the dangers of certain erotic activities like love bites. There have actually been some well-documented cases of people dying as the result of hickeys. There was one case in Mexico about a 17-year-old boy dying of a stroke caused by a blood clot in his artery from a hickey his girlfriend gave him”

You blink slowly at the man you were sitting on, baffled by the absolute nonsense pouring out of his mouth. 

“Spencer, you do realize you’ve left marks on me before?”

“Never your neck,”

“Yes you have-” you pull back to think. You bashfully recall the few times you two have been intimate. Marks littered across your thighs, chest, and ass; hell even a few on your shoulder blades. But for the life of you, you can’t recall the sharp sting of his teeth marring you anywhere above your collarbone.

“Ok fine, but you have bitten me on my thighs a lot.” you recall, “I remember when you got shot in your leg and damn near bled out. So is my femoral artery not a concern of yours doctor?”

He looks away with a coy smile. HIs cheeks redden as he stutters to put his words together. 

“Your femoral artery is a bit deeper in your body than your carotid is in your neck. The skin on your body is actually about two times thicker than..”

Spencer begins to ramble about delicate nature of the neck, firing off related statistics and study facts without missing a beat. You listen carefully, still amazed by overflowing well of knowledge your boyfriend could be all the time.He looked confident like this. His eyes would brighten and every trivial connection he could make to another topic would have his lips twisting with mirth. 

This time, with the topic at hand, you find your focus locked on his neck. His adam apple bobs with every syllable out of his mouth. The pale skin of his collarbone exposed beneath his frumpled collar teased you from your high vantage point. The skin was pristine, not a blemish or scratch in sight. You pause. Have you never given him a hickey on his neck?! You run through the cataloge of your most intimate moments all over again realizing the clear absence in your relationship. 

“... so you aren’t in much danger with your femoral artery for superficial injuries like a brui-oh—!” 

His words are cut short by the graze of your teeth at the base of his neck. You don’t bite down yet. If this was something he wanted to back out of, you’d let him. You wait for him to react, kissing the pulse point that picked up pace since the first touch of your lips to the delicate skin.

You continue to mouth as his neck. Licking at tender spots behind his ear earn you little moans, followed by sharp gasps when your teeth follow in their wake. You move to pull away after a moment. He didn’t throw you off and scream attempted murder when you started, but he also hasn’t been begging you from more either. You’ve teased hm enough for one day, kisses and lovebites on his sweet lips and elsewhere were more than enough for you anyways. But before you could pull away a firm hand at the back of your head presses you back into the crook of his neck. His other hand wraps tighter around your waist, sliding you closer to him, every inch of your body pressed against his. Got him.

“Please..” he whispers. 

“Hm..?”

Spencer’s voice starts with a crack, he takes a moment to clear his throat before he continues, “You can… You can leave a mark”

��But Spencer!,” you mock a startled gasp, “Your precious and delicate carotid!”

“I think just this once is fine..” he murmurs, “and I trust you”

You beam at his honesty, ending his suffering to press your lips to his neck again. You remain gentle. Running your lips along his skin, sofly grazing him with your teeth now and again. His breath hitches above you when your teeth graze that spot behind his jaw once more. You focus your attention there. Kissing and licking and blowing until you sink your teeth down into the flesh. 

A choked groan bubbles from his throat, the sound egging you on. You suck the spot into your mouth, careful to not be too aggressive— while you didn’t totally believe hickey strokes were that much of a danger, you still dont want to fuck around and find your way into that embarrassing statistic. 

When youre pleased with the variety of sounds you pull out of your love, you sit up to admire your work. Spencer looked at you in a daze, eyes cloudy and bottom lip pulled so tight between his teeth you’re sure he’d have a bruise there too later. Your eyes drop to the love bite at his neck, the skin deepening in color the longer you look at it. You tap the spot gently with your pointer finger beaming at the wince it earns you. 

“Feeling any signs of stroke or a heart attack doctor?” you tease.

“No, but we’ll need to run a few more trials to have a real experiment here.” you cackle at his sly wording when he pulls you off his lap abruptly, pinning you below his body instead. 

“We may also need additional test subjects for this research to be truly viable.,” Before you could fully process his meaning he attaches his lips to your neck with a smile.

[gilverrwrites]

Discretely touching them down there to their parts and gently squeezing when no one is looking and them not being able to do anything (since it's in public).

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, & Roy. AN: Anon you're a menace and I love ya!

Bruce

You get exactly one, which he acknowledges with a stern pout and a cocked brow. Flawlessly concealing the fire you’ve ignited but for his laboured breathing and blown-out pupils. You’re walking a thin line, behaving like a brat in front of Gotham’s elite.

If he sees you reaching for him again, and trust, he will see; it will take him precisely 0.8 seconds to lock you in an unsuspecting death grip and pull you close. He wants you to feel the increased tempo of his heart against your chest. To feel the growing stiffness of his hard-on grazing your hip as he tells you assertively to; “Behave.”  

Dick

Dick sees your game; he raises you tenfold. He knows you’re up to something when he clocks the determined bite of your lips as you survey the subway car, and the mischievous glint in your eye as you look back at him. When your hand snakes under this shirt, caressing his v-lines, he juts his hips forward, presenting himself to you; daring you to take it further.

When you sink your fingers below his waistband he sucks in a deliberately loud breath. You freeze to survey your surroundings, but Dick does not. Dick starts grinding on you until he senses you growing nervous. He locks a sturdy hand around your elbow just in time to prevent you from pulling away, leans in close and whispers; “What’s wrong baby? Thought you wanted to play?”

Jason

“Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” You giggle at your own joke, because Jason is always packing some form of heat. He might have laughed too, might have trapped your wrist in his hands and rocked against your outstretched palm if you’d been at home, or the club, or even the casino. But not the fucking grocery store, you little perv.  

“Are you drunk?” He offers you an out, glaring down at you with a gaze fierce enough to make a nun blush. You respond with a brazen-faced shake of your head, and he can’t help but imitate it out of disbelief at your cocky attitude. You stay like that, locked in a stare of, rock vs hard place, until Jason cracks first, noticing a couple rounding the corner at the other end of the aisle.

He grabs your arm with an unapologetic level of force, spinning you around and trapping you between his body and the trolley. Hiding his hardness by pressing it against your back. “You’re in for it later.”

Tim

Tim is the most taken aback. His pale blue eyes are rapidly examining your surroundings the moment he feels your devious fingers ghosting over the top of his thigh. He’s cute when he’s flustered, with pink cheeks and blown-out pupils. Nobody is looking, too focused on the conference speaker.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, but before he can get his words out, your hand is gone, casually pulling a non-existent thread from your sleeve.

You don’t reply, you just smile and shoot him a playful wink which puts him even more on edge. So much so that when you abruptly return, this time cupping his half-hard cock through his jeans that he fucking flinches. His knee hits the chair in front, and he sucks in a loud breath, earning him many pointed glares from multiple members of the audience.

“Babe.” Be tries to warn, but his hushed breathy tone makes him sound exactly as aroused as he feels.

Roy

You get it, you do. It was a long trip, and he’s starving but you’ve really been feeling his absence over the last few weeks, and the fact that you’re currently sat in a Burrito Bucket, watching Roy devour a tray of tacos, instead of being at home and watching him devour you, is a problem.

He seems to have noticed your sulking, but too late. “You okay ho- “

His question is halted by your foot tactfully situating itself between his legs. His gaze flits between his food and you, defiant eyes watching you through a mop of shaggy hair. A knowing grin spreads across his queso-stained lips as you answer faux-sweetly. “I’m fine, baby.”

“Right.” He huffs, breath hitching, freckled cheeks turning red when you press your toes down and something firm pushes back. He knows what you want, but he just loves to play dumb. So, he takes another bite, jerking every time you tap or roll your foot but never acknowledging what you’re silently begging for. “Is this one of those things where you say you’re fine, but actually you’re not fine?”

“I’m going home.” You finally concede with an exaggerated sigh, dropping your foot back to the floor and gathering your things.

“I’m coming with you.” He’s on you the moment you stand, draping his arm over you and placing kisses to the side of your neck, your face, whatever he can reach as you struggle to move with his deadweight over your shoulders. Notably, there’s still half a tray of uneaten tacos left on the table. “Funnily enough, I’m hungry for something else now.”

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[starkeysprincess]

Blackmail

pairing: dark!rafe Cameron x reader word count: 1.4k warnings: sexting/video call sex, gaslighting, blackmailing, revenge porn, manipulation

a/n: this was a request from an anon summary: Rafe Cameron talks you into putting on a little show for him over a Facetime call, little did you know that you would regret your decision.

You flopped down onto your bed, laying on your stomach when your phone started to continuously buzz as an incoming Facetime call rang through. Before you can even see who was trying to Facetime you, you receive a text from a man you’ve been talking to for a little over a month. the man in question being none other than Rafe Cameron.

When you opened the text, you couldn't help but smile when you were met with a message that read, "Facetime me, princess, wanna see that pretty little face". Your thumb moves across the screen and you click the 'join' button, to which, you're immediately met with the sight of his handsome face, "There she is" he grins.

"Missed me already?" you teased, earning a small chuckle from him, "Always do, princess". You playfully rolled your eyes at his response as you sat up before laying back against your pillows, "You saw me like two days ago". Rafe shrugged, "So? doesn't mean that I don't miss the sight of your pretty face".

"Now you're just being a sweet talker" you snort, laying further back against your pillows, not realizing the new angle gave him a delicious view of your tits and the way your hardened nipples were pressed against the cloth of your tank top. A small smirk forms on his lips, "I'd rather be a sweet talker than a tease".

Your eyebrows furrow, "A tease? How am I being a tease?", your question only resulted in his smirk growing wider. You notice how his eyes flicker down and away from your face, "Well, you're givin' me a good view of those pretty tits and I can see how hard your nipples are".

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you're quick to readjust the angle of your phone but you stop when you hear his husky voice, "Nah, don't hide them from me, princess.".

"They look too fuckin' good for you to be hidin' them. Got me all hard and shit” Rafe confesses, pausing for a second until an idea popped into his head, “Matter-of-fact, why don't you put on a little show f'me?" he suggested. He can't help but grin when he notices how you look away from your phone's camera, "Gettin' all shy on me now?". 

“I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea” you muttered, “Why not? We’ve been talkin’ for about a month now, even gone out together a few times” he pointed out. He noticed you were still looking away from the camera, “Hey, look at me”. You turned your head, looking back at him through the call, “It’s just some harmless fun, s’all”.You stay silent, receiving a faux pout from him, “‘You don’t trust me or somethin’?”. You chew your lip nervously, still hesitant about putting on a show for him. 

He notices your hesitation, “You can trust me, princess. I promise this is for my eyes only, you know I don’t like sharing. The fuck would I share what’s mine with anyone else, huh? Your pretty little body is only meant to be seen by my eyes, no one else’s.”. 

“C’mon baby, give daddy a show, show him what’s his”. 

That’s all you needed to hear from him, the promises that he wouldn’t dare to show anyone because you were his and only his. “Okay,” you nodded, earning a grin from him, “Good girl. Why don’t you start by showin’ me those pretty tits of yours, hm?”. 

You hold your phone with one hand while your other reaches for the hem of your tank top. You slowly pull it up your waist, hesitating for a second before pulling it up further, revealing your bare tits. He licks his lips, letting out a low groan, “Fuck, baby. Lemme see you play with ‘em”. Your hand moves to cup your breast, squeezing it before you capture your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it before moving to the other. 

His eyes are glued to your tits, “Squeeze them together and spit on them for me, baby”. You do as he says, squeezing the plump flesh together, gathering spit in your mouth before letting it dribble down. He watches as your spit lands on the top of your skin before it slowly drips down between the valley of your breasts. His hand moves to palm his hard cock through his pants, “Shit…thinkin’ about how pretty they’d look covered in my load instead”. 

You can’t see what he’s doing but based on his groans, you have an idea of what he was doing while he watched you. “Alright, baby, flip the camera and remove your shorts” he instructs, to which you listen as you press the ‘flip’ button on your phone. Your hand slowly pushes the waistband of your shorts down your hips until you are left in just your panties. His voice is gruff as he speaks, “Atta girl, slowly remove your panties f’me. Need to see that pretty little pussy”. 

Your hand hooks into the elastic band of your panties, lifting your hips up as you slowly pull them down before tossing them to the side. You prop your legs up, keeping your feet flat on your mattress before spreading your legs.

“Shit…prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen” he groans, “Do daddy a favor and play with yourself. I need to see your wet cunt stuffed with your fingers”.

His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat and you can feel your clit starting to throb with need. Rafe sat up against the pillows of his headboard as he watched your hand slipping between your thighs, rubbing circles against your clit with your nimble fingers.

“That’s it…gonna show me your fingers stretchin’ that tight little cunt?” he breathes heavily, his hand moving up and down his length faster. A small gasp escapes you as you push two of your fingers into your sopping wet hole. 

Your slick coats your fingers, allowing you to pump your fingers in and out. Rafe continues to watch, his thumb pressing against the flushed tip of his cock, spreading his precum as his fist moves up and down his length. 

You let out a soft mewl, grinding your hips down against your fingers the moment you curl them. “You can barely take two of your own fingers. Shit, baby, you think you’d be able to take daddy’s big, thick cock?”. 

“I-I’m close” you stammered, feeling your walls clench around your fingers. His ears perk up at your words, “Flip the camera back around, I wanna know what your face will look like when you’re cumming all on my cock”.

You quickly flip the camera, your face casting onto his screen. He watches as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part, crying out as you come all over your fingers.Your chest rises and falls as you come down from your orgasm, your eyes remaining closed. 

What you failed to realize that night was from the moment you removed your top, Rafe had been screen recording the entire interaction. Something you didn’t find out about until a few days later when you were scrolling through Twitter and the video appeared on your feed. 

The video was clearly cropped to avoid showing your face and you knew this was all Rafe’s doing. You weren’t thinking straight when you grabbed your car keys and made your way to Tanneyhill, pulling right into the Cameron’s property before storming up towards their front door. 

Just as you were about to bang on the door, the door opens, revealing Rafe, who wore a smug look on his face. “Was just thinkin’ about you” he grinned. “Take it down” you demanded, making him shrug in faux confusion, “Take what down?”.

You give him a look, “Oh, that video” he nods, “Yeah, I can’t do that” he tsks. “Rafe, I’m being serious. Please, just take it down” you plead with him. 

“What are you so worried about? At least your face isn’t showin’, right?” he points out, “But could you imagine if your face was shown?”.

“It’d be a real shame if someone were to post the uncropped version, ya know” he licked his lips, “Cause then everyone would know what a whore you are”.

Your eyes avert his gaze, “You think anyone would want you after they see that shit?” he lets out a throaty laugh, “I’m the only one who wants you. I can even prove it to you”.He grabs your chin, making you look up at him, “I meant what I said, I wouldn’t share what’s fuckin’ mine unless I have to teach you a lesson. So if I were you, I’d be a good girl and listen, yeah?”.

rafe cameron m.list taglist

tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @drudyslut / @sturnioloshacker / @lilacheavenn / @starkeyisthelastname / @rafesthroatbaby / @rafescurtainbangz / @espressomunson / @ihe4rttwd / @rafecameroninterlude / @rafeinterlude / @redhead1180 / @nemesyaaa / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @eddieslut69 / @eternalbuckley / @kisses4angel / @hyperfixationgirl / @emilysuperswag / @flvredcas / @starkeysheart / @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles / @amandabbbbb / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @spid6y / @peterpan-neverfails / @zyafics / @chimindity / @rowans-posts / @native2princess / @crvptidgf / @rylie-m / @maiiuelle / @rafesfuckdoll / @shawtycoreee / @fae-of-prey / @rafeyswrd

[lyrefromthesea]

You’re absolutely one of my favourite writers 💙 Please could I request hashira x reader, where the reader looks after the hashira’s family/ those they care for when they are on a long mission 💙💙

Male pillars x reader - family matters

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

who would've expected nearly the entirety of the Uzui family to fall sick? it luckily didn't hit him, but Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all fell ill.

you would've done it without his pleading, but when he asked you so kindly to take care of his wives, you couldn't say no.

you were in a relationship with them too, it was only right to take care of your loved ones, right?

so when Tengen came home and saw you put wet towels on all their head with the outmost patience, he felt his heart swell with pride.

"i'm back, are you all feeling better?" he asked, looking down at the three sick women. they were cuddled up in their shared bed, not wanting to be alone.

he was glad when he watched them slowly nod and tell him how good you've taken care of them.

"thank you, beautiful.." he said to you, glad that there was someone he could trust. "let me help now."

Obanai:

when Obanai left for a mission and left Kaburamaru with you, he knew you would take care of his friend. however, he didn't expect finding you like this.

you have fallen asleep in the kitchen, your cheek squished against the counter. Kaburamaru had found his place around your neck, as if he wanted to keep you warm.

Iguro looked around, seeing Kaburamaru's food bowl. it was empty, but he knew the snake had eaten today. he could tell by the way Kaburamaru was sleeping with you, having filled his stomach.

furthermore, there was a plate full of food placed near you. he could see another empty plate in the sink, indicating that you've already eaten.

he had told you when he would come back from his mission, figuring that you've prepared the second plate for him.

he looked at you with a gentle gaze, not wanting to wake you up, but knowing you shouldn't sleep in the kitchen. with a quick and careful movement, he had picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

you had taken care of him and his snake, it was time to take care of you now.

Rengoku:

multiple bottles of liquor stood in front of his family's estate. they were all empty.

he knew those were the bottles his father used to buy, but the man would never place them here.

knowing that you had been staying in his house for the past few days, he figured it would have something to do with you.

"i'm home, dear!" he greeted, happy when he saw you run up to him. perhaps you had been spoiling him too much, but he was used to a kiss on the lips whenever he returned to you.

"first you take my sake away and now this? i'll puke!" Shinjuro scolded you, but you just smiled back at him.

Kyojuro was confused at first, quickly remembering the empty liquor bottles in front the family estate.

"don't pretend like you didn't like the past days! you even played board games with me and Senjuro." you countered, sticking your tongue out.

perhaps it was because you weren't a demon slayer, but Shinjuro could speak to you much more calmly than with others. or maybe it was because you reminded him of the peace of earlier days.

"you did? let's celebrate my return with another board game!" Kyojuro enthusiastically offered, earning a happy nod from you.

"you're going to play as well, right?" you ask Shinjuro, not surprised by him rolling his eyes, knowing he would join you two and Senjuro.

Sanemi:

"is he okay?" Sanemi asked, his fists clenching hard. he was desperate to know about his little brother's state.

when he heard that Genya had been hurt during his fight with a demon, he had wanted to see his brother right away, but he couldn't look him in the eyes anymore.

he knew that Genya hated him for what he had done, he had no right to worry over him now.

naturally, his eyes lit up when he saw you take over the role of a nurse, watching over Genya properly.

"he's doing better." you answered, seeing him quiet down and nod. he felt relief settle in his heart, coming closer to hug you.

his head rested on your shoulder, his arms hanging by his side. his heart was trapped in a mix of guilt and relief.

"you know, he told me that he missed you. you should see him.." you told him, knowing the story the two brothers shared was a sad one.

"no.." he simply said, but you could hear the sorrow in his voice. he probably wanted his brother back as much as Genya wanted him.

"thank you for looking after him.."

Giyuu:

he had trouble revealing his feelings to other people, but when he heard Tanjiro being hurt once again, you noticed the look on his face.

when you told him that you'd temporarily look after the young demon slayer, you saw the man relax slightly. he trusted you and he knew you'd do your best.

he wanted to do his best for you as well, deciding it would only be fair to visit you and Tanjiro now and then.

"Tomioka-san!" Tanjiro beamed, nearly making his way out of the bed, but you held him back, letting him remember that he needed to rest as much as possible.

"Tanjirou, are you feeling better..?" he asked, stepping into the room Tanjirou got assigned. he glanced up at you, seeing a soft smile form on your face.

he made his way towards you while he listened to the boy talk.

"i'm feeling so much better already! [name]-san took great care of me!" Tanjirou said, enthusiastically fiddling with his hands. Giyuu moved to your side, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"thank you for taking care of him." Giyuu whispered against your ear, turning your head to face him. "i have another mission now, wish me luck, love."

you nodded, knowing that you would pray for his return every day, you just didn't know Tanjirou would speak up again. "Tomioka-san! Tomioka-san!"

naturally, Giyuu hurried out of the room.

Gyomei:

"namu, cat cute.." he mumbled, pressing the small animal against his body in a squeezing hug.

you chuckled quietly, seeing the cat meow and wiggle in an attempt to get out.

you had found it a few days ago, the cat couldn't walk due to it's injured paw. when Gyomei came back that day, he was fine with you keeping the cat until it was healthy.

truthfully, he was more than fine with the addition to his home, especially when he found the cat sitting on one of his shirts a few days later.

he took it as a sign that the cat liked him, first feeding it and then trapping it in his arms.

"was this really a good idea? i feel like the cat is getting more attention than me." you teased, not expecting his strong arm to wrap around you as well, now trapping you in the same hold as the cat.

"you're cute too, don't worry."

[marril96]

Reasons

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha wants to know why you wanted to go on the Road.

You knew you were in trouble when Agatha left the rest of the coven huddled around a fire and joined you in the forest area, away from prying ears.

You needed some peace and quiet. The trials were emotionally tasking. Risking your life day by day, doing things such as drinking poison and performing a song while fire raged around you…

It was a lot.

But this was your life now.You knew full well what you were signing up for. Agatha had warned you, loud and clear.

The choice to come here was yours, and you would make it all over again if given a chance for what you wanted — what you needed — from the Road wasn't something easily attainable. You'd be damned if you were to give up now.

Some things were worth risking everything for.

"Y/N," Agatha said as she approached you, casual, hands in the pockets of her coat. Like she were on a walk in a park rather than a dangerous and deadly Road.

"Yeah?" You weren't really in the mood to talk, your batteries still low from the latest trial. It didn't help that you didn't feel fully at ease with the others. The kid was fine, but the other witches made you nervous. You didn't trust them. You didn't know them.

The only one you really knew was Agatha. Which was why you just stood there instead of moving away or feigning sleepiness as she walked over, something clearly on her mind. It paid off to have befriended her back in the day. It was by pure chance, an encounter neither one of you expected, but, in hindsight, you were both glad it had happened.

She had earned a listening ear, someone to confide in, who wouldn't judge her no matter what. Someone who would have her back even if the rest of the world were to turn against her.

You had earned a protector in a world that was dangerous for your kind.

"We need to talk," Agatha said. Her tone didn't reveal much; you didn't know what to expect.

You turned to her. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy."

"Is Jen talking shit about you again? My offer to punch her in the face still stands," you said. You'd nearly done so a couple days back, but Agatha had held you back. She could handle Jen, she'd said. Her words had meant nothing to her.

It didn't make hearing lies and slander about your friend feel any better, but if she said she was okay, then that was that. Agatha was centuries old; much older than you. She may have been powerless now, but she could still hold her own. She'd heard worse. She'd lived through worse. Some random witch's petty insults didn't bother her.

Agatha chuckled. "Jen is… Jen. But no, she hasn't said anything."

"Then what's up?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to be interrogated?" you said, nervous. You forced a smile. "Are you back in your true crime mode? Are you gonna manhandle me until I confess?"

"That's cute," Agatha said, rolling her eyes, prompting you to laugh.

If you'd known Wanda Maximoff had cast a spell on her, you would have come and gotten her out of it sooner — or tried to, at the very least. That was the thing about friendships that lasted for centuries; a lot of time was spent apart. It wasn't unusual for one of you to disappear for a few years and then pop back into the other's life. You missed her when she was gone, of course you did, but she had her life, and you had yours.

It was only when she'd showed up at your door with Teen in tow that you'd finally found out why she'd gone radio silent for three years. And, much to your disappointment, the witch who'd done it to her was dead, so you couldn't even punch her for it, or call her a bitch to her face.

Such was life.

"What are you doing here?" Agatha asked.

"What do you mean?" you said, taken aback.

"On the Road," she clarified. "Why are you here?"

Because you wanted something you could never have without it. Simple as that. "You asked me to come."

"No, I didn't. I told you I was going. You demanded I take you with me."

Right. You'd hoped that little detail would slip by her. You should've known by now she kept track of everything; her mind was as sharp as her magic.

"I haven't seen you in three years," you said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. "I wanted to hang out with you. And, like, maybe get some more power along the way."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Yes. She did. Multiple times in the past. Which was why, whenever the two of you needed to swindle someone — for whatever reason — she was the one doing the talking and you just nodded along and smiled.

"You did."

"Yes," Agatha said. "I did. Because you are."

You sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"There's nothing to say."

There was a lot, actually, but you didn't dare open up that particular can of worms. Once it was said, it could never be taken back. So why say anything at all?

"Oh, is there?" Agatha said sarcastically.

"Don't do that," you said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Because you're my friend. Because I don't want to ruin this. "Because I'm asking you not to. That used to mean something."

"It still does." Her voice was soft. Tender. Gone was the sarcasm, the defensive sharpness. It was just her now. Your friend.

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"Leave it alone." You knew she wouldn't. She never did.

"Y/N," Agatha said, your name but a whisper on her lips.

You sighed. Was she really going to do this now? Why couldn't she just take you at your word and put up with a little white lie? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"Why did you want to come here?" She wasn't demanding. She wasn't prodding. She was just asking.

She knew you couldn't resist her for too long.

The perks of allowing Agatha Harkness to be your close friend. She knew you too well for your own good.

A lump formed in your throat. Heat bit at the back of your neck like a curse about to swallow you whole. Your heart raced, a marathon booming in your chest.

There was a silence, long, drawn out. Then, in your quietest, softest voice, you said, "You know why."

She always did.

She always knew everything.

Secrets weren't secrets for long around Agatha Harkness.

You tried to tell yourself that you were being careful, that your emotions were in check at all times, but the truth was, your poker face was worse than your lying skills. You just pretended you were doing a good job, and Agatha went along with it.

To her credit, she never tried to take advantage. She never made fun of you for it, or played games. The deal was friendship, and that's what she gave you. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"I want to hear it from you."

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. Your cheek burned like a fireplace. Your mouth trembled, holding the words back, wanting to keep them trapped forever. But what would be the point, really? The truth was bound to come out eventually.

The truth had been out for a long time, written all over your face. A big, scarlet letter for all the world to know how you really felt. What you really wanted, but never felt like you could have.

"You." It felt almost freeing to say it out loud, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe in a way you hadn't for years. "I came here because I want you."

Really, what else could you have possibly wanted? You were satisfied with the power you had. You got by. Your life wasn't in danger. There was nothing for you to ask for, that you didn't already have.

Except for one thing you thought — you knew — was unattainable.

Agatha Harkness. One of the most powerful witches you'd ever gotten to know. Rumored to be cruel and ruthless, heartless. A remorseless monster. A serial killer of witches. Your best — and only — friend. The love of your life.

"Go on," you said after a few moments of silence. "Make fun of me."

"Now, why would I do that?" Agatha asked, appalled at the suggestion. Offended for sbe thought you knew her better than that.

Which was exactly why you were so afraid. She hid her feelings expertly. Rather than admit vulnerability, she preferred to go on the offensive. A scorpion stinging with its venom where it hurt the most. She cared about you, and she trusted you, but there was no telling how she would react to something like this out in the open.

You saw how she treated people. You watched her murder witch after witch and discard the bodies as if they were nothing. You watch her climb over others to prop herself up, to rise to the top.

What was to stop her from doing the same to you?

What made you so different?

Why had she never treated you any different than one would a friend? Why had she always had your back, without you even having to ask? Why had she taken lives — many, many lives — to save yours?

Why did she trust you with her story, with memories of her son and the failed romance with Rio?

Why did she feel comfortable to bare her soul to you and let the tears flow freely, a salty river down her face each and every time she revealed a piece of her history?

"I just…" You were nervous. You were scared. You wanted to die.

"You know, honey, you didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Agatha said, perking up. Teasing you like she usually did; a bit mean, but with no real malice behind it. Playful. A cat throwing around a mouse it had caught. "You went on the Road to score a date? Really?"

It wasn't really a date you were after, but her point stood.

You were stupid.

This was a stupid idea, and it had backfired, and now she was going to mock you for it until the day one of you died.

"You do know all you had to do was ask, right?" she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever give me the time of day."

Agatha pressed her hands to her hips, elbows sticking out. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"

Now she was definitely taking the piss. "Come on," you said, putting on your fakest smile you knew would never fool her. "You're this amazing, badass, smoking hot witch."

She preened at the compliments. The surefire way to feel heart. She was nothing if not an attention whore.

"You-you're everything." Your everything, and more. So much more. "And I'm a nobody."

"Don't you ever say that," Agatha said in her stern, no nonsense tone. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. All daggers and sharp edges. She grabbed you by the shoulders, fingers digging in, and looked into sour eyes so intently it sent chills down your spine. "Don't you ever think you're a nobody."

"Everyone else thinks that," you said quietly.

It was obvious the others didn't think much of you. You could see it on their faces; the lack of respect, the underestimation. Jen had called you Agatha's pitbull to your face.

That was all you were to them. A pathetic witch whose only purpose was to speak up for Agatha. She may have joked about Teen being her pet, but it was clear to them all that that was your job. Agatha's witch familiar who was hopelessly in love with her and barked — but never bit — at every perceived slight against her.

"Who cares what they think?" Agatha said. "You're an exceptional witch, Y/N. They are nobodies."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"Does that sound like something I'd do?"

No. It did not. She might use those words to manipulate some poor, unfortunate soul, but not you. Never you.

She always said it to you like it was.

"I mean, you do like to manipulate people," you joked. "And you lie better than I do."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Everyone lies better than you do."

"True." There was no denying that.

She sighed, exasperated. "You really are an idiot."

And then her mouth was on yours, and she was kissing you, and your entire world exploded into fireworks and sparks and electricity, and, for a few short moments, you weren't in a dirty, creepy forest but rather somewhere warm and welcoming, and you never wanted to leave.

Agatha was everything you had imagined, and much, much more. Fire and ice all in one. Sugar and spice and everything nice and cozy and so fucking delicious.

Hers was the taste you never wanted to give up.

She tried to lean her head back, to take a break for breath, but you grabbed her chin and kissed her again, and again, and again. Hunger like you'd never felt before overtook you. Your nerves were on fire, legs weak underneath you, but you held on, forced yourself to remain standing. To remain kissing her for you never knew when you would get another chance.

If you would get another chance.

"Honey, I may be immortal, but I still need to breathe," Agatha said with a chuckle, right against your lips. Playful. Teasing.

Deciding it was enough, you backed away. Your lips were swollen, tingling. The taste of her, all of her, still on them, lingering like a ghost of your past. Forever imprinted on your mouth, a tattoo you hoped would never fade. You never wanted to lose it. Never wanted to forget what it felt like to be kissing her.

"Sorry," you said, blushing, nervous to hell and back.

Agatha looked you in the eye once again with the same fire as earlier. "Never apologize for taking what you want. You're a witch. The world is yours for the taking."

"I don't want the world," you said. "I just want you."

"Done." She said it so casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

You didn't buy it.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You knew I was…" Completely and totally in love with her. "...into you."

"You have a tell," she said simply. She always could read people like an open book.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wanted you to ask for it."

"But why?"

Agatha sighed. "Y/N, what is it that I've been teaching you since the moment we met?"

"Fuck the rules?"

She nodded. "Fuck the rules."

"To be unapologetically me," you said.

"Because…?" she prompted.

"I'm a witch, and I've got nothing to be ashamed of. If I fuck up, that's fine. Shit happens. There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of magic."

Agatha grinned, brimming with pride. "That's my girl."

That's what you really were now. Her girl.

A part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real. That it wasn't some dream or a hallucination the Road had inflicted on you as part of some fucked up trial.

The other part wanted to wrap her in your arms and never let go.

"Can I kiss you again?" you said, uncertain. Still not used to this new situation you'd gotten yourself into.

"You don't even have to ask," Agatha told you.

So you went for it. You kissed her. Once. Twice. Three times.

An infinite amount of times.

Later on, when it came time to get some shut eye, you kissed her goodnight, and she wrapped her arms around you. A protective cocoon, warm and safe.

And, in the morning, she was the one to wake you with a kiss of her own.

It was only fair.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

[priniya]

˗ˏ` EMOTIONS! 🍵 ´ˎ˗

pairing. theodore nott x reader

summary. theo never handled his emotions right, and when his girlfriend shows up in a wrong moment, things escalate and theodore doesn’t know how to fix it.

THEO HAS BEEN A TICKING BOMB LATELY and you knew that. it’s been bothering you, but every time you tried talking some senses into him, he brushed it all off, saying something too stupid and reckless for you to hear, so the topic was dropped sooner than it was brought up.

it was one of those times again, when a recurring thought was planted into your brain that you didn’t know your boyfriend like you thought you would. theodore hasn’t been himself lately, which made you worry tons. he’s been smoking much more and getting into fights more often as well as getting into trouble with the teachers, losing the points for your house, which… well, you didn’t care that much about it. what you cared for was theo’s wellbeing.

since it’s been a christmas break, you had gone home to spend time with your family, which meant your contant with theo was limited to a few letters that he was doing somewhat fine, yet you’ve been smart enough to know that spending christmas with his father and grandfather could never make him feel fine, not even a little bit. it was the breaking point in you that you’ve decided it’s the end of brushing you off.

“riddle, berkshire – out.” you barged into the dorm, glaring at your boyfriend’s dormmates, causing the first one to groan in annoyance.

“jesus, can’t be in your own room anymore.” mattheo rolled his eyes at you, yet he knew it was coming, so he dragged his ass up, patting theo’s back. “good luck with that one, nott.” he muttered before leaving the room with lorenzo, who just sent you a sympathetic smile.

theo, on the other hand, just glanced at you for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. “what do you want, l/n?” he asked, his nose still burried in between pages of a book you gave him for christmas.

“oh, last name basis, al–fucking–right.” you grumbled, grabbing the book away from his hands, your body trembling with fury. you hadn’t had a proper conversation in over two weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be a decent man towards you. “what’s going on with you, nott?”

“get off my dick, y/n, really.” he rolled his eyes, expression matching the one his roommate had a few moments earlier. “i don’t have fucking time for this shit.” theo added, clearly agitated.

“well, you want it — you have it, i’m not getting on your dick anytime soon.” your voice was thick with emotion as the mention of celibacy earning you a look. “i know something’s going on. i know that, because i’m your girlfriend and i care about you. just trust–” you started, but the sentence wasn’t meant to be finished, because nott cut you off.

“then don’t. merlin, i don’t need a fucking babysitter, hoovering over my ass all the time. you’re not my bloody therapist, l/n. i don’t fucking need you to stick your nose into my business 24/7.” theodore stood up, his nose almost brushing yours before you took a step back, startled at the sudden outburst. “and sex? don’t amuse me, for merlin’s sake. i could leave the dorm right now and find someone to bone if i wanted to.” his tone was harsh, while his words were like knives thrown at you as a reward for being a caring girlfriend.

your boyfriend looked at his knuckles, his gaze focusing on the ring as he begun to take it off, making your pupils widen. “go. give it to someone who’s gonna be crazy enough to put up with your obsession about emotions. i’m not doing that anymore.” he muttered, pushing the ring into your palm.

“fine.” was the only thing that came to your mind after his words. your body continued to tremble and at this point, you couldn’t have been sure if it was your annoyance or broken heart that he just broke up with you. “just keep your promise and stay away from me. maybe join the death eaters too, for all i care, you’ll fit in perfectly.” with that, you left his dorm, slamming the door behind you as you fought with tears flowing down your cheeks.

“troubles in paradise?” mattheo grinned at you playfully, not noticing your tears-stained face as you were storming through the common room to the exit of the room.

“go fuck yourself, riddle.”

it wasn’t even five minutes later, when mattheo entered his shared dorm, his expression utterly confused as his mind was doing its best to connect the dots. “what’s with that gal of yours?” he asked theo, plopping down onto his bed, lightning up a cigarette right after.

“she’s not my gal anymore.” nott mumbled in response, almost untouched by the entire thing that just happened and that took his best friend by surprise.

“what do you mean she’s not your gal anymore?” he asked, his frown deepening. “lad, don’t tell me she broke up with you, you love this girl to death.” riddle added, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of uneasiness or a clue to understand all of it.

“i broke up with her.” theo replied with a shrug.

“merlin, man, why?” mattheo asked another question, this time being left without an answer as nott shut the curtains of his bed, putting on a silence spell.

IGNORING THEODORE ALL WEEK HAS BEEN EASY as you weren’t in the same year as him. you’ve been grovelling inside about the break-up, but from what your mother had always told you, when you were younger, you remembered that all the teenage boys were shitty and you couldn’t — by any means — let him know how much hurt you were. ignoring him was easy, all because, in your eyes, he didn’t even take any effort to show you remorse for what happened, from what you’ve known, he didn’t even look at you once.

the worst part of loving theodore nott was not being able to brush off all the concerns and worries that lived rent free in your mind, whenever you’ve noticed him walking through the hallways. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to care about him at all, so that was what you were planning on doing. kept your head high and your feet steady on the ground.

what you didn’t know, was that it wasn’t pride that made him keep his eyes away from you, but guilt. from the moment he woke up the day following your argument, his organism was flooded with guilt and shame to the point, where he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

he fucked everything up just like his father always told him that he would. he broke the promise he’d made to himself that he wouldn’t drive you away, wouldn’t hurt you like his father hurt his mom, yet he did. you were the only person in his world that made him feel like a normal human being, one, who could love and be loved, but he had to ruin it all, because his pride wouldn’t let him to open up to you.

it’s been already a week since the biggest mistake of his life, as he called it, and theo’s entire body hurt. he was popping pills with blaise like candies, because sobriety and consciousness made everything worse. he couldn’t stop thinking about you — about your expression, when he broke things off with you, the hurt in your eyes and the way you were holding yourself after that.

people, not close enough to you, might’ve been fooled by the facade you’ve built around you, though not theo. he’d known you for years prior to your relationship, he’d seen you both happy and miserable and now? now, you were beyond miserable. you might’ve kept your head high with the biggest smile on your face, but he’s known. he always would — whether you wanted him to or not.

quidditch practices were the worst, all because you were always there, yet never watching him. it wasn’t even up to you to be there and theo was certain of it. you were there, so your best friend wouldn’t have to sit through an entire practice alone, while she watched lorenzo with starstruck expression all the fucking time.

“lad, you have to apologise to her, sort it out.” enzo sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “aoife’s worried about her. ‘m not really surprised, though, she started smoking weed on daily-basis again. aoif’s saying she can’t remember, when she saw her sober for the last time, but it’s better than bawling her eyes out over some asshole, aoif’s words, not mine.” having a friend, who was also somehow close to you and your best friend was a blessing in disguise. lorenzo kept him updated, not leaving out all the insults aoife lynch threw at him for breaking her best friend’s heart.

a loud sigh left theo’s lips as he leaned over the table, his forehead falling onto the wooden surface as he let out a groan. “i don’t even know what to do, enzo.”

“my suggestion? get your shit together.” mattheo chimed in, a playful grin on his face. “i mean it, theo. the gal of yours keeps showing up to my spot and i can’t deal with her tears anymore. get your shit together and fix it.”

“the problem is, matt, i don’t know how.”

the opportunity, although being totally… stupid, occurred at the end of another week during a game with hufflepuffs. theo’s entered another stage of grief and has been going around the school angry at everything. so, when the game came, he was playing rougher than usually, because he needed an outlet to the built-up anger.

of course, you’ve noticed. how couldn’t you? you’ve been keeping an eye on him for the entire two weeks. despite your promise to aoife, you couldn’t let it go. no matter who he was, your boyfriend, a friend, a stranger or an enemy, you couldn’t stop worrying about him and doing your best to look out for him. so… when he was forcefully pushed off his broom by diggory, you were running down the stairs before he even hit the ground. you needed to be beside him or it would kill you.

he was unconcious for almost two more days, making it a sixteen days without hearing his voice and you were going crazy, spending every single second, occupying the tabletop placed next to his bed. his hands in between yours as you kept it close to you. did he deeply pained you with his words? yes. would you let him be alone in the hospital wing? of course not.

“y/n/n.” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.” nott let out and you weren’t sure if it was some kind of sleep talking or your delusions leading you on. “i’m so sorry, baby.” he repeated his words with a term of endearment, squeezing your hand weakly.

“theodore…” your words hitched in your throat as you moved the hair aside from his forehead. “don’t think about it now.” you whispered in a coy manner. “it doesn’t matter.”

“i can’t.” he coughed out. “i can’t stop thinking about it. about you. i’ve acted like a dick, but i didn’t mean it. you’re my world, baby, i’m so, so sorry. you were right all this time, i build up my emotions inside of me and let it get the best of me in the worst moment. i’m so sorry i hurt you, i swear i hate myself for—” he continued his rambling, slowly opening his eyes to have a look at you.

“hey, teddy, please, don’t think about it now.” you pleaded, still holding his hand. your thumb caressing his palm. “just rest, okay? please. we’ll talk about once you’re well-rested and out of here.” your voice was gentle.

he shifted in his hospital bed, hissing as his ribcage hurt immensely. “no, cara, please.” he muttered, bringing his lips to your palm. “listen, i can’t get over what i told you. i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered.

“teddy…” you started, but he cut you off.

“no. i’m sorry i said all those things to you, you didn’t deserve all the shit i gave you.” he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “you need to hit me. for all the pain and suffering. oh god, and the tears. you should just kill me at this point.” theo muttered, and honestly? he did deserve the beating for what he’s done, but the three days of unconsciousness due being knocked off the broom, you could let it go. it could be his fate share of beating.

“just shut up, will you?” you sighed, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “we’re fine.”

[greengoblinswifey]

All Mine— Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas gets jealous as you spend more time a guy for a presentation but he shows you, him and everyone else your’e his in the best way possible. based on this request.

warnings— dom!nicholas then sub!nicholas, jealous!nicholas, possessiveness, oral(f), fingering, rough sex, choking, voyeurism, praise kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

Nicholas had never been the jealous type—or so he thought. But the last few weeks had tested that notion in ways he hadn’t expected. You’d been spending hours with Brandon, working on your presentation, and while he trusted you completely, he couldn’t ignore the way it felt seeing you and Brandon talking and laughing together. Brandon was popular in the frat, known for his charm, and Nicholas couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration whenever he saw the two of you together, his stomach twisting at the thought of anyone else seeing you the way he did.

One evening, Nicholas overheard Brandon talking with some other guys at the frat house. “Man, she’s hot,” Brandon had said, just loud enough for him to hear. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time with her.”

Nicholas felt his hands clench involuntarily, and it took everything in him not to say something or, worse, do something he’d regret. Instead, he walked away, trying to ignore the knot of jealousy tightening in his chest.

Finally, the day of the presentation arrived. You and Brandon presented flawlessly, earning an immediate 95%. But as you wrapped up and turned back toward Nicholas, he was already heading over to you, his expression soft but determined. Without a word, he took your hand and pulled you close, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss right in front of Brandon. It was uncharacteristic of his usual sweet and shy demeanor, but he didn’t care—he needed Brandon to know exactly where you stood.

When you pulled back, slightly breathless, you noticed the look of shock and irritation on Brandon’s face. Nicholas just gave him a calm, steady look before taking your hand and leading you out of the classroom with a “come on baby, excuse me and my girlfriend Brandon.”

Back in his room at the frat house, Nicholas let out a relieved sigh, his hand resting on the small of your back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I- I didn’t mean to get like that, but seeing him with you—it just, it just made me so fucking jealous.”

You smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You don’t have to apologize, Nick. I only have eyes for you. Besides,” you teased, “I kind of liked seeing that side of you.”

He blushed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you, it was slow, his touch gentle but filled with the unmistakable spark of all that had been building up over the past few days.

His touch was electric, his hands roaming all over your body. The moved to your breasts, groping you as you moaned into his mouth.

“These,” he breathed, pulling away just a bit as he grabbed your breasts again, “they’re mine.”

You had never seen him so possessive and jealous over you and boy, did it turn you on. He pushed you flat on his bed, his hand around your neck and stripped you of your clothes, roughly.

“N-Nick, are you sure? Everyone’s here—.” He cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. He stripped himself of his clothing, his muscles flexing and you bit your lip in anticipation.

Immediately, he leaned down, attaching his lips to your pussy, savoring your taste as you squirmed underneath him and tried to contain your moans. “Fuck, don’t hold back those moans baby, let it out,” he murmured, in between his movements.

You tried to hold on, but the minute he slipped his fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside you, you were unable to hold back. Your moans filled the room as Nicholas lapped at your juices, his palm pressing against your abdomen. The pressure rested on your lower belly and he continued, his fingers speeding up along with his tongue on your clit.

“Cum for me angel, I want you to cum on my tongue and I want to hear you scream.”

Your back arched off the bed and you squirmed under him as your juices spurted from you and onto his tongue.

“That’s my good girl, only I can make you squirt like that. Brandon wishes,” he scoffed.

A soft whimper left your lips as he stood up, pumping his hard and thick cock. He was hard the moment he tasted you.

Before he began fucking you, he lifted you up by your neck, making you look out the window.

“There’s the asshole,” he chuckled, making you look at Brandon walking towards the house, “I’m gonna make sure he hears me fucking you, gonna make sure he hears you fucking scream my name.”

You couldn’t believe the words leaving your sweet Nicholas’ lips. It was like the jealousy overtook him, awakening something feral inside him. It left you absolutely throbbing.

“P-please fuck me,” you whispered so quietly, he almost missed it.

“What’d you say angel? A little louder.”

“Please fuck me, Nick, I need you so bad, I need you to fuck me,” you begged.

“How obedient,” he chuckled, “anything for my sweet girlfriend.”

He pressed you onto the bed by your neck again, his hand remaining around it as he slipped inside you fully, giving you no time to adjust. You gasped at the intrusion, grabbing on to his hand and he immediately halted.

“Are you okay angel? Do you want me to stop? I-it’s okay if you want me to stop,” he said, a panicked look overtaking him as he cupped your cheeks looking into his eyes.

“No, I don’t want you to stop, please don’t stop,” you pleaded, grabbing his hand and putting it back around your throat.

His demeanor shifted again, and he began moving inside you. His hips thrusted fast, pounding inside you with his hand wrapped around your throat. You could barely contain your whiny mewls as each thrust made him press against your clit.

“You fucking like that? You like when I’m fucking you with everyone here? Tell me,” he demanded.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” you screamed, your moans surely to be heard across the frat house.

“That’s it princess, that’s exactly how I want you.” He began pounding into you harder, his moans growing louder as your walls clamped around him tightly. You wrapped your legs around him, grinding as he slammed into you.

“I can feel it princess, cum for me, cum for daddy.” He had a shocked expression on his face the minute the word left his lips and so did you. It was quickly replaced by pleasure as you immediately came on his cock. He was shocked he would ever refer to himself as ‘daddy’ the term never seeming to resonate in his sexual encounters with you until that very moment. A part of him was almost embarrassed, but the way your walls clenched around him the minute he said it and you squirting on his cock erased any lingering embarrassment.

“You’re so naughty, you really liked that didn’t you? You want me to be your daddy? Hm?” he asked, still pounding into you.

“Yes, be my daddy,” you cried.

He smirked and lifted you up, hooking his arms under your legs as he stood up and started slamming you on his hard cock.

“Scream for me baby, let that fucking asshole hear that he’ll never have you like this, let him hear that he’ll never have you the way I do,” he panted.

“Daddy!” you cried out, feeling Nicholas slam you harshly on his cock. Your body quivered and you knew before long you’d be coming again.

“You wanna cum angel? The only way you’re gonna cum is if you tell me who you belong to,” he breathed, his hands tightly gripped your ass as he thrusted up into you.

“I’m yours Nick, all yours, I belong to you, please let me cum,” you screamed.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, cum on my cock, cum on daddy’s cock.”

His movements becoming more intense and the air in the room was thick with passion. Lost in the intensity of the moment, you felt yourself reaching the tipping point, his name falling from your lips loudly as the sensation built. When you finally reached that breaking point, a rush of pleasure hit you, pulling a cry from you that filled the room and echoed through the hallway. You clung to him, and he held you close, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead as you caught your breath, completely wrapped up in him as he continued thrusting up into you.

From the muffled laughs and hollers you heard from outside, you realized the entire frat house had definitely heard. Nicholas just smiled, the slightest hint of pride in his eyes as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I want them to hear,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. “You’re mine, and I don’t mind if everyone knows it.”

He lay on the bed, positioning you on top of him to straddle him. “Ride me baby, please,” he whimpered. His demeanor had shifted once again, his eyes growing needy and his lips pouting as his balls were swollen with cum fighting to spurt out.

You smirked, sinking down into his cock as you both gasped. “Fuck,” you moaned in unison, the sound of your pussy squelching loud in the room.

Your knees were on either side of him, bouncing up and down roughly, chasing your own orgasm again and making him chase his.

“I’m yours, yeah? Never forget that baby,” you whispered, snaking your hand around his neck.

He moaned in response, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you moved your hips in a circular motion, riding him.

“You’re so big,” you screamed, his hips beginning to meet your thrusts as he practically hit your cervix continuously.

You heard muffled cheers outside the room, but you decided to focus on the both of you, making a mental note to cuss them out later for standing outside.

“F-fuck baby, I’m gonna cum so hard,” he cried, the sensitivity becoming too much for him.

“It’s okay baby, cum for me, I’m yours, cum inside your pussy.”

Moaning each other’s names, you held each other close, both your bodies shaking as you came simultaneously.

“You’re filling me up so much,” you moaned, feeling him spurt deep inside you. You stayed like that for a few minutes, his cock throbbing inside you as you both slowly came down from your high.

He lay you down, still holding you close as he kissed you all over your face.

“I’m sorry if that was too much angel, something just— just took me over, I don’t know what—”

You shut him up with a passionate kiss. “I enjoyed that so much sweetheart, that was so hot. Don’t apologize, you had every right to be jealous, but always remember there’s no other man for me but you. Brandon or anyone else could never have me the way you do. I’m yours and yours only.”

“All mine,” he smiled, sweetly.

Snapping you out of your moment, there was a pounding at the door. “Are you guys finished obliterating each other at 3 in the fucking afternoon? Goddamn Chavez, you’re a beast!” the voice yelled, followed by cheers and laughter. Then looking out the window, you saw the flustered figure of Brandon hurrying away.