#I think I started writing it in… December or something? perhaps?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vatelixx · 4 months ago

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On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

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The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

#spencer reid #sub spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #he deserves this #let the man fuck!!!!!

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paulyenvol6 · 11 days ago

Text

Ruined

Hiii I'm back :))) I finished my exams and I have a lot more time to write now which I'm looking forward to. I have this one shot that I started in December and just finished writing so I hope you enjoy it <3

Jeyne, a poor common girl, has made the mistake of being caught stealing by Daemon Targaryen. Now she must face the consequences.

Contains: rape, non-con, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, degrading, virginity loss, crying, choking, gagging, anxiety, detailed description of pain and fear, possessiveness, objectification, words like slut and whore, very dark themes, kind of a plot twist

Read with caution!

Wordcount: ~6.73k

Masterlist

It was a warm evening.

Way too warm for the rogue prince's taste and thanks to his heavy armour he was sweating so much that he wished he could just take it off and have a cold bath. But of course he was way too pragmatical to complain about if to himself so he shifted his attention back to the busy market before his eyes.

The sound of laughter, chatter, the screams of children and music filled the air and in any other case perhaps the good mood would've spilled over to him so that he felt excited and animated as well but not tonight. Not when he knew he had to stay here for so many countless minutes more. The thing that bothered him the most was probably the fact that he felt so useless. It wasn't like he was defending his city in brave fights or served as a bearer of justice, no he was walking around beneath that draining sun while watching over commoners who went about their daily tasks such as buying vegetables or spending the evening in a tavern with their friends. He felt almost pathetic like that.

Nothing was happening except a few men hitting each other with bottles of ale and a singer whose ugly voice and incapacity of hitting the right notes had left the audience so unsatisfied that they had started to throw little stones at him. Daemon hadn't even intervened. He was beneath that, he found. He was meant for the battles. When all he could see or taste was hot blood and the adrenaline shot through his veins so quickly that he became dizzy. Seven hells, right now he thought that he was rather meant to be in a pleasure house having his cock sucked than rotting away on his post by the market.

To pass the time Daemon started to think about Dorysa, the blackhaired beauty from Pentos who everyone called Scarlet Fever because of her signiture deep red lips that were such a tempting contrast to her dark skin. She was a whore in his favourite pleasure house in the street of silk and had established herself as one of his favourites. What would he give to be buried inside of her now…

While he daydreamed his eyes lazily wandered over the scene. He yawned open-mouthedly and then his gaze fell on a person with reddish hair that looked like it was glowing in the moonlight. Perhaps that was the very reason why Daemon didn't immediately let his eyes wander further but instead watched her. Because her hair was beautiful, a blonde-gold with an orange tone in it. He smiled and then just wanted to turn his attention to the rest of the people again when suddenly he realized what it was she was doing right now.

This little wench had just stolen something! That was why she had sneaked around so strangely. She had taken something from the merchant's booth and now intended to slip away as inconspicuously as possible. Daemon narrowed his eyes and then without giving it a second thought made his way to the girl. While he approached he stared at the back of her head but when he was only a few feet away she turned around and widened her eyes when she noticed his armour. Swiftly and sleekly as a cat the girl turned to the side and ran towards a little alley that led into the more gloomy and decrepit streets of the city.

The trader shouted a loud "Come back you little bitch!" but Daemon didn't pay attention to him. Instead he followed the girl as quickly as he could and passed the rest of the trader's booths until he entered the alleyway as well. It was dark and he couldn't see a lot but he was able to hear her fast steps on the stone ground. She was fast, yes, but Daemon was faster. She barely made it around a corner when he managed to grab her by her upper arm and stop her. The girl squeaked in surprise and started to hit and push at his upper body at once but his grip was like iron and she didn't stand a chance against him.

"Let me go, seven hells!" she cursed and Daemon watched her helpless attempts while examining her more closely.

Her eyes were somewhere between green and hazel but in the dim light he wasn't sure. She had soft features, high cheekbones and soft-looking lips that were drawn into a pout at the moment. And then there were her blonde-reddish hair of course that fell straight to her chest which rose and fell rapidly right now. Then his eyes wandered up to her face again and he could read her expression as both determined and fearful.

"I didn't do anything, let me go at once," she hissed and squirmed in his grip.

"You stole something."

"I didn't, I swear!" Daemon scoffed and then forcefully reached into the pocket of her linen dress. The girl tried to push him away and hide what laid in her pocket but he managed to grab it and triumphantly held the necklace in the air.

"You didn't?"

She dropped her gaze and thoughtfully chewed on her lower lip.

"Please. I'll give it back, but please don't chop off my hand."

She looked so pathetic and whiny that Daemon had to surpress a smirk. He wouldn't get blinded by her show though so he pulled her closer.

"You know that you have to get punished for this. It's the law, little one."

Her eyes literally begged him and he saw her buttom lip tremble.

"Please, my prince. Please have mercy."

He chuckled quietly. "You're not well educated, girl. Because you should know that I'm not a merciful man."

She tried to fight him again and pushed at his arm in order to make him loosen his grip but of course Daemon just watched her amused.

"What's your name, little one?"

"Jeyne," she whispered almost inaudible.

"Jeyne…," he repeated. "You did something very stupid there, didn't you? And I will have to do something about it."

His voice was low and raspy, almost intimidating and a shiver ran down Jeyne's spine. All of a sudden he started to walk and dragged her with him. She tried to escape and started to shout for help but of course no one would dare help her against the prince of the city.

"What are you doing, let me go!!" she screamed but Daemon simply ignored her complaints and went about his way. She didn't know where he was taking her and that made her feel nervous and panicky. What if he would chop off her hand? That was what the gold cloaks usually did with thieves and this was the rogue prince who was famous for being especially cruel and brutal. Or what if he would kill her?

Jeyne pulled and turned in his grip, hit him with her fist against his chest but he only tightened his hand around her arm while not even looking at her. It was so dark that she couldn't see where he was taking her at first and since she was blind with fear and fright, she had no eyes for her surroundings. Jeyne only realized where they were when Daemon stopped in front of a wooden door which he opened smoothly and dragged her with him.

"What are you doing? Let me go, please."

She hated how weak her voice sounded but at the same time Jeyne was unable to hide her panic. She had no choice but to follow him and then he stopped again once he stood in front of the inn keeper. It was the raven's rest, of course. A place for the more worthy population of king's landing and therefore a place for the prince.

"What is this, what are we doing here?" she demanded to know but was ignored once more.

"My prince. How can I serve you?" The man asked not even looking at the girl he had dragged with him for a second.

"I just need a quiet place. A room preferably."

The inn keeper nodded and bowed his head so low that he almost bumped his head against the counter.

"Of course. You will have the best room of all. Only the best for my prince."

Daemon was immune to his false friendliness and just nodded graciously. Then Jeyne felt herself getting pulled again and her captor roughly and without caring if she got hurt dragged her up the stairs.

"Stop it, what are you doing? Please, I don't want to…"

She squirmed and refused to follow him but if only she was a little stronger because she wasn't able to do anything to fight the rogue prince off. A few seconds later she found herself in front of a door and then in the blink of an eye they were in a room that was quite comfortable and big for an inn.

The walls were made of rough-hewn stone and darkened by years of soot from the hearth below. It was lit, filled the room with a comfortable warmth and the scent of burned cedar got into her nose. There was also a small writing desk and two chairs and a four poster bed that was the center of the room. But that was not where Daemon was heading now because he forcefully pushed Jeyne on one of the two chairs and then towered over her.

"P-Please don't kill me. I swear it upon everything I have, I will never steal again," she whimpered and looked up pleadingly to him with those deer eyes that drove Daemon insane.

"You swear it upon everything you have? You have nothing, little flower. You are nothing but a common stupid little girl who was unwise enough to get caught by me."

"Please," she breathed again and twitched when the prince took hold of her chin.

"You don't think criminals should get punished for their crimes?"

She nodded with wet eyes and her hands anxiously gripped the chair below her.

"They should. But please… Please just don't kill me."

He laughed out and it confused her so much that she forgot about her fear for a moment.

"I'm not gonna kill you, little girl. But you do know what's the punishment for stealing?"

"Yes," she whispered with a trembling buttom lip.

"Say it," Daemon commanded.

"You chop off their hand."

She droped her gaze and just wished with her whole heart that she had stayed home earlier.

"Yes. Do you want that to happen to you?"

She shook her head so quickly that her hair was flying through the air. "N-No, please not."

Daemon smirked and then straightened up to walk around the room.

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"J-Just lock me in a cell for a while…. Or I could work for the merchant I stole from."

He tilted his head at her and then his hand connected with her jaw again.

"No," he hummed and Jeyne felt her heart drop to her legs.

"You're gonna serve me in another way, little flower."

She freezed, couldn't form a thought in her head from feeling so scared when his finger grazed over her skin.

"You're a lovely sight, sweetheart. Has anyone ever had you?"

Jeyne couldn't answer. She feared that she might start to cry if she opened her mouth so she pressed her lips tightly together while the king's brother watched her curiously.

"Has your flower been plucked, little one?"

Her heart was pounding so rapidly that she thought she might die and Jeyne dug her nails into the palms of her hands in an attempt to get rid of some of the fear and chaos in her stomach. She replied to him by shaking her head slightly and Daemon chuckled contently.

"I thought so. A pure little innocent thing like you wouldn't give herself to a man before marriage, isn't that right? Though you're very far away form being innocent."

Jeyne squeezed her eyes as she felt his hand traveling down to her neck and then his fingers stroke the thin and sensitive skin there.

"You really are a little flower. So vulnerable and pretty. And so ready to be plucked."

Her fear was now overshadowed by a panic creeping up in her belly that spread all over her body and made her see white.

"Please, no, my prince, don't do it, please. I'm begging you, just don't – "

Jeyne squirmed on the chair trying to fight him off but was caught off when he wrapped a hand around her throat.

"You know better than to do this, girl," he sighed and his green eyes flashed with anger and amusement which was an odd combination.

"You deserve this. You broke the law. You took something that isn't yours and now I'm gonna take something that isn't mine but I'll make it mine. Consider this your punishment."

A croaked gasp left her throat and her face started to redden while he tigthened his hand around her neck. She tried to peel his hand off by pulling at it but Daemon made her suffer a little longer before he loosened his grip. Jeyne greedily inhaled the dry air in the room and a single tear ran down her face.

"On your knees. Now," he hissed but she painfully shook her head trying to activite any kind of pity or humanity in the prince.

"Please, my prince, I'm supposed to save myself for marriage… And I'm scared…," she cried and Daemon forcefully pulled the girl to the stone floor. Her knees achingly brushed over the floor but she really had bigger problems right now so she ignored the sting.

"You should be grateful I let you off this easily. I could have your hands for what you did. And you're lucky to be taken by a dragon, little flower. It's an honour for a filthy little common girl like you."

Jeyne tried to stand up to flee from him but he just grabbed her hair and pushed her down again.

"Ohh sweetling, there's no need to make this that hard."

"Fuck you," she spat angrily. "Let me go, I don't want this."

Daemon brushed over her hair in a gentle way and it only made her even angrier. "Shh. Be quiet and open your mouth."

Her mouth tensed and she determindely pressed her lips together.

"I'm not gonna open my mouth for you, you little bastard," Jeyne hissed but then she let out a gasp when Daemon smacked her across the face.

"One more disrespectful word out of your slutty mouth and you'll regret ever raising your voice to me."

His voice sounded so cold that something inside tightened and her next words got stuck in her throat.

"Good. Now open your mouth."

That, Jeyne wouldn't do. She would never let him enter her mouth let alone be used to his liking.

"No," she breathed which earned her another slap.

"Do it now. You forget that this is your punishment for a crime that you've committed. You'd be smart to obey me or you'll face much worse and more painful conequences."

Daemon's fingers suddenly enclosed around her nose so the air entering her body was cut off. In a matter of seconds Jeyne realized why he was doing it but she remained stubborn and refused to open up for him.

"Open, little flower. You have no choice."

When she finally accepted that she would have to open her mouth soon because she'd suffocate otherwise Jeyne parted her lips just a tiny bit so she could swallow some fresh air but to her misfortune Daemon seized his chance and pushed two fingers past her lips.

"There we go, sweet girl. Oh and you have such a warm perfect fucking mouth. I know it will feel so good around my cock."

He had grown more eager now with the prospect of inserting himself into this heavenly warmth so he quickly and singlehandedly loosened the belt and then his pants to free his already half-hardened cock. But once his manhood was exposed he felt a sting in his hand and pulled it away from the girl.

"Fuck," he cursed watching the blood leak from the spot where she had bitten him.

Jeyne took advantage of the situation and quick as the wind jumped to her feet and made her way to the door. This was her only chance to escape, she would rush downwards and then through the streets of king's landing. No matter where, just away from Daemon.

But the thoughts about her plan were cut off when she was suddenly pulled back before she even could reach the door. A desperate and frustrated cry left her mouth and she felt how the prince dragged her down to her knees again. Then he clenched his hand around her chin and the angered expression on his face made her fear the consequences of her attempt.

"Stupid little slut. You think you can escape from me? I will fuck your little hole, no matter if you're willing or not. You've got yourself in this position, don't forget that."

He forcefully opened her jaw and pushed his cock past her lips. It was so sudden and powerful that she was unable to fight back and Daemon let out a deep groan.

"Oh seven hells."

He had his eyes closed and fully ignored the way Jeyne tried to move away from his member. He was heavy and veiny and tasted a little salty. She had never seen a cock before let alone had one in her mouth and the fact that he and not her future husband was the first one to do these things with her brought tears to her eyes.

But that was not the only thing bothering her. Daemon bruised her throat at a quick pace and hit the back of it every time which left her gagging and choking. She wanted to get away and make him pull back but Daemon held her head in place while taking what he wanted.

"Yeah, that's a good girl. You have a good fucking mouth. Who would've thought?"

Jeyne let out a cry and pushed against his thighs in order to get him to leave her alone but Daemon just laughed about her attempts.

"You're gonna take it, sweetheart. And you know you deserve it after what you've done. You can be glad that I haven't chopped your dirty little hands off."

He was so deep inside of her mouth that his balls pressed against her face and Jeyne felt like throwing up. She choked and felt tears rolling down her face but of course the prince didn't pay any attention to it. He just growled to himself and looked down to the kneeling girl while smirking crookedly.

Daemon didn't last long. He had found a liking in the little common girl and was more than pleased with the way she felt around his cock and so after merely a couple of minutes that had felt like hours to Jeyne he hissed sharply, threw his head back and then his seed shot down her throat. She gasped surprised and instinctively tried to make his cock slip out but but Daemon wanted to make sure that she swallowed everything so he held her head with both hands and sighed contently as he looked down to her.

"Oh seven hells," he moaned and ran his right hand over her soft hair.

He still wouldn't let go off her so Jeyne desperately looked up to him which almost made his cock swell again. And then he finally loosened his grip on her head and she immediately brought distance between them to cough and deeply inhale fresh air. She was a sight, Daemon thought. Her hair was messy and stood in all directions and her eyes looked glossy and like she was far away with her thoughts. His assault had made her cheeks turn red and of course the wetness on her face was well visible.

"Come here," Daemon spoke a little softer now and reached out to grab her arms.

"N-No," she coughed and hit his arm but he just picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed.

"You wanna do this the hard way, huh?" he spitted and threw her on the mattress.

Instead of pinning her down at once Daemon stood next to the bed and towered over her watching her with arched eyebrows. For a moment Jeyne was too frightened to try and flee again so she looked up to him with wide eyes instead.

"You have two options now, babygirl. I'm either gonna prepare your tight cunt for me or I'll just take you like this which will be a lot more painful for you. It depends on you. If you continue to be such an ungrateful bitch I swear I'll shove my cock inside you and press your head in the cushions so I don't have to listen to your pathetic crying and screaming."

To say she was frightened was an understatement. Jeyne couldn't get a word out and just silently watched him while he climbed onto the bed. Daemon thought that he perhaps had broken her now because she didn't fight back when he crawled to lay on top of her. Yet he wanted didn't want to give her too much space to resist which was why he took both her wrists in one of his big hands and pinned them above her head. A single tear rolled down her flushed cheeks which Daemon wiped away with his pointer finger.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," he whispered. "I like seeing your tears way too much."

His smirk made her let out a sob but he quickly surpressed it by pressing his lips on hers. In the meantime his hands came down to find more naked skin and soon he couldn't wait any longer. He had barely seen anything of her so he clenched his hands around the fabric covering her chest and ripped it apart. Jeyne jolted and her hands instinctively covered her breasts which Daemon commented with a dissatisfied scoff. He pinned her hands down once more while regarding her upper body.

It was too much for her, the way his eyes flashed and this mischievious look on his face that screamed: 'I'm thinking about all the things that I want to do to you.' Jeyne squeezed her eyes as though it would make her disappear and only opened them again when she felt a big hand cupping and then kneading her left breast. His hand was cold and rough and she felt herself getting goosebumps.

"You have some pretty tits," he growled and even if it was supposed to be a compliment it only made the lump in her throat thicken. She felt the urge to run and push him back and wash his touch and scent off her body.

"Please," she whimpered because although she knew that Daemon was as cruel as a man could be she hoped that she would be able to move a little something in him.

"Please don't. I'm scared."

Her voice was so thin and quiet that he had to tilt his head in order to hear her. His hand slowly approached her body and Jeyne tensed fearing what he would do. But he gently stroke the side of her face and held her almost as if she was made of glass.

"Shhh," was all he said and then Jeyne shrieked again as she felt how Daemon ripped her dress further so it loosely hang around her belly. He took advantage of her surprise and pulled it down until her whole body was bare underneath his gaze and it was so much to take in that the prince needed a second to collect himself.

"Gods be good," he hummed and started to slowly draw circles on her stomach. "Aren't you a pretty little thing? Can't wait to make this body all mine."

Before Jeyne was able to protest he had forced a hand between her legs and she didn't stand a chance when Daemon spread them. Suddenly she was filled with a new determination to make him stop which probably was caused by her body realizing that she was in great danger right now because her legs started to kick him and her whole body twitched and turned. He reacted quickly though.

"Stupid slut," he cursed and pressed with his one hand on her hips while his other squeezed her neck. "I thought I made myself clear."

She wasn't able to keep up her fighting for long and soon she fell back on the bed again. Daemon wasn't done with punishing her though because he threatingly flared his nostrils without saying anything which only made her feel even more anxious. His hand stayed around her neck while he went back to spreading her legs by pushing a knee between them. Jeyne's eyes filled with tears as she felt the coldness of his skin against her thighs. She mumbled something that he couldn't understand but it sounded like a desperate cry that made his eyes darken with lust.

This was the moment when Jeyne understood something. This was exactly what he wanted. He got off on seeing her cry and struggle. The thing he enjoyed the most about all of this was the power in it. She was a poor common girl without any power in this world. There was nothing she was able to do against him and Daemon would never face justice for his actions which he knew. Because he was Daemon Targaryen, commander of the city watch and brother to the king. He could do whatever he wanted and Jeyne could do nothing but endure it. By crying and begging she only fueled his desire because it made him aware of the power he held over her at this moment.

Jeyne was snapped back to reality when his hand cupped her sex. She wanted to scream and cry and let out her desperation but she forced herself not to. She simply didn't want to give him the satisfaction and she definitely didn't want to give him what he wanted. So her lips were pressed together and the only sign of her fear were the tears spilling from her eyes every few seconds. She was still and stiff when his finger ran up and down her slit to find that she was dry as a desert.

"Poor girl," Daemon whispered and his free hand enclosed around her chin. "You don't like that?"

Jeyne didn't know if she was supposed to answer and she especially didn't know if she wanted to answer. But eventually her frustration took over and she rapidly shook her head.

"N-No," she said with her shivering voice.

He nodded as if he actually understood and his finger wandered up to her pearl. The girl's lower lip trembled and Daemon precisely watched her face while he started to rub it in tight circles.

"N-No," she repeated and pushed at his arm between her legs.

"Yes," he answered and didn't seem to care about her attempt to get rid of him. "Wanna see this cunt taking my fingers. You can be happy about it. You know I initially wanted to give you a special treat with my tongue but you have missed your chance by behaving like a bratty bitch."

Jeyne didn't know if he had actually punished with this but she didn't think about it for long because suddenly Daemon pushed a finger inside of her hole that was still far from being soaked. She had definitely already experienced more painful things but still it felt aching and uncomfortable so she jolted away from his hand.

"No, you're gonna take it," he breathed against her hand. "You're gonna take it like an obedient whore. And then you're gonna take my cock. The only fucking reason why I'm doing this is so you won't soak these sheets with your blood once I shove my cock inside of you."

His thumb now pressed into her bundle of nerves and Jeyne hated the way she felt a heat rising in her cheeks. Why did her body betray her like this? She despised everything about what was happening here right now but no matter how hard she tensed and tried to move away from him soon she heard a wet noise every time Daemon's finger moved inside of her. Of course the prince noticed it as well.

"What's that, mhm? You like this, don't you?" he chuckled and added a second finger.

For a moment Jeyne tensed and felt a painful stretch in her core but he didn't hesitate for a second and cruelly moved the two digits to scissor her open.

"I thought you despised this. And now I suddenly have you dripping for me? You're a filthy cock-hungry slut. Worthless and pathetic. Only good thing about you are your holes."

It actually sounded like he hated her and despite feeling just the same way about him Jeyne had a dark and bitter feeling in her stomach. She was so scared of this man who was a lot stronger than her and was able to do anything he wanted to her right now. No one would save her or come looking for her here.

Her body stiffened which Daemon felt in the way she clenched around him and he slapped her cunt roughly before going back to fingering her. He was eager now, blind with the desire for her tight hole that he was sure would feel so good clenching around him. She was already hugging his fingers so perfectly and he could only imagine what it would do to his cock.

He continued his assault on her pearl and in her hole for a few more minutes but then Daemon grew too impatient. He drew away from her core and when his hand came down to wrap around his shaft Jeyne eye's sprang open.

"N-No, no, no, please."

She didn't care about begging now, didn't care if she was giving him what he desired rather than being able to make a difference. Fear clouded her senses and she just had to put everything into making him stop. She only now realized how big he actually was and how uncomfortable this would be. His fingers had been nothing in comparison.

"Please," Jeyne pleaded and tears fell down to her cheeks. "Please, it's so big and it's gonna hurt so badly, please… I don't want it, don't make me."

Daemon sighed and a smirk appeared on his voice while he leaned down to press a kiss on her brow.

"Oh sweet girl…," he cooed and ran the tip of his cock over her pearl. "Do you think this will hurt more than getting your hand chopped off?"

Jeyne only whimpered in surprised and shrieked when his hand made contact with her cheek.

"Answer me," he ordered.

"N-No I-I don't think s-so," she replied to his question and closed her eyes in desperation when his hand soothingly caressed where he had hit her.

"That's right. So you should be grateful I'm doing this."

"B-But please…. P-Please be g-gentle. I'm scared."

Daemon pouted sarcastically and kissed her cheek. "Oh I will, babygirl. Why do you think I prepared you for me?"

Jeyne didn't know whether he was mocking her or actually telling the truth but there was no time for her to think about it further because then his cock applied pressure on her hole and he started to work his tip inside of her. It hurt so much that she held her breath for a moment. Perhaps the wetness leaking from her hole made this better but she still felt like he was ripping her apart. She couldn't even say anything and complain. All she could do was stare up to him with wide eyes while Daemon worked himself inside of her inch by inch.

"Fuck…. Oh fucking hells, that's right," he moaned with closed eyes. "Gonna tear my fucking cock off, gods be good."

Jeyne just hoped that it wouldn't take him long to finish so she was freed from this unbearable pain as quickly as possible but she couldn't rely on that so she closed her eyes while forcing herself to breathe. It hurt like hell and she felt like her insides were being tortured but she would do this. She had experienced a lot of shitty things in her past and this one wouldn't bring her down. 'Just breathe,' she told herself. 'Don't cry and don't beg because this is exactly what he wants.'

Another part of her urged her to just let out all of her emotions because perhaps this would make him finish faster but Jeyne couldn't let him humiliate her like this. A little amount of dignity was actually left inside of her and she rather would want him to continue his assault a few more minutes than give him the satisfaction to see her so vulnerable and weak.

He was fully inside of her now and Jeyne had to surpress a sob. He was so big that she felt his veins grazing her walls and she didn't know how his cock fitting inside of her was physically possible. Her core was pulsating and all of her senses were on alert because of the intrusion. She dug her nails into the palms of her own hands, anything to direct her attention to something else rather than the intense pain in her center.

Daemon on the other hand dropped his head to his chest and enjoyed feeling her tight walls hugging his cock. He inhaled a few times before backing out of her a little and then forcefully pushed back inside. Jeyne couldn't surpress a gasp and new tears formed in her eyes.

"Yes that's right," he grunted. "What a good fucking cunt. Knew you had to be good for some things."

His degrading words suddenly filled her with anger and she opened her mouth to hiss something at him but Daemon was faster. He pressed a hand on her mouth surpressing whatever it was she had wanted to say and watched her dangerously.

"Can't listen to your annoying voice anymore. Just stay fucking quiet and lay still. S'all I ask of you."

He now started to fuck her at a steady pace that made her eyes widen every time he filled her to the brim. It was so far from feeling good that Jeyne wondered how women were actually enjoying this. Or was this simply because Daemon didn't want her to feel good? His hand on her mouth loosened a little and a smirk formed on his face.

"Don't you hold back, little one," he whispered lowly and ran his thumb over her lip. "Wanna see you cry those pretty tears. I know it hurts, angel. Let me hear how much."

With a sharp thrust in her core he forced a little whine out of her and her facade crumbled.

"N-No," she cried again and she turned her head to the side just so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore. But Daemon hummed disapprovingly and he connected his hand to her chin to adjust her to his liking.

"You can't escape from me, sweetling. You're gonna take it. You're gonna take all of it because you don't have a fucking choice."

His thrusts became more intense now and Jeyne had to bite her bottom lip in order to hide the pain she was feeling.

"Gonna fill you up with my seed. Make your pretty little body swollen and claim you. You're mine from now on." His hand started to toy with her breasts and nipples while his other was occupied with holding her hips now.

"Every time another man will take you you will remember that it was me who took your innocence. It was me who defiled and ruined you. You'll remember my touch, my hands on your body and my cock in your cunt."

He picked up his speed even more and Jeyne was too exhausted to hold anything back so she twitched and whined every time his cock bruised her walls. Her core ached and burned and all she wanted was to get a minute of peace but she knew better than to try and stop him. His grip on her hips and chest was firm and Jeyne just closed her eyes praying that he would release soon.

And he did. After another few minutes he let out little growls and his thrusts became sloppy and then Daemon finally collapsed on top of her and pressed her into the bed with the weight of his body.

"Fuck…," was all he managed to grunt before he stopped pushing into her and laid still on top of her.

Jeyne stiffly waited and counted the seconds until he would finally release her but he took his time. Panting heavily he thrusted into her again to make sure his seed stayed inside of her and then he pulled himself out. It burned at first and she pressed her legs together but soon it faded and for the first time in what had felt like hours her core was able to relax a little.

She turned her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him and this time Daemon actually let her. He sighed deeply and then slowly rolled himself off her.

"Oh gods be good. Who would've thought that this was exactly what I needed tonight."

It sounded like he was speaking to himself so Jeyne didn't bother to answer him and instead stared at the wall next to her. Daemon grabbed his clothes from the floor and got dressed while he watched her with a smirk that she couldn't see. Once he was done he approached the bed again and Jeyne who heard his steps coming closer cramped.

"I'll let you go, little girl. But only because your cunt was so fucking tight."

He slapped her arse twice without Jeyne looking at him and then straightened up. She anxiously waited and just prayed that he would finally leave the room but it was so quiet in the room that she only heard her own heavy breathing.

"Do not get ungrateful now, you little whore," he whispered dangerously. "You will be a good girl and properly say goodbye to your prince while looking at him."

Jeyne felt numb from the fear taking over her and slowly turned her head although everything inside her tensed up.

"Goodbye, my prince," she breathed and waited for his reaction.

Daemon drew his mouth in a smirk and then his hand came down to her arse one more time.

"There you go. And if you'll steal again make sure you'll do it during my watch."

With these words the rogue prince finally left the room. Jeyne waited and listened to his steps that became more quiet until everything was silent. Only then did she get up and put on the clothes that were ready for her on the table. She smiled softly and then rushed to the door to open it energetically only to look into her husband's face that was drawn with a crooked smile.

"How did I do?" he whispered and Jeyne chuckled.

"Almost too good," she breathed and Daemon gently pushed her back until they were back inside the room.

"I feel like I should be concerned by your desire to have me chase you and then pretend to take you against your will, darling."

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his back.

"Noooo don't overthink it," Jeyne giggled and kissed his cheek.

"How did I do as a common girl?" she then asked.

"You know exactly how well you did," Daemon hissed with small eyes and held the side of her face.

"Would you be open to do it again?" Jeyne begged him with her eyes and took his hand into hers.

He pretended to think but deep down she knew that he wouldn't refuse her. He never could.

"Maybe," he eventually sighed and leaned down to kiss her.

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 2 months ago

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Soothing Lullaby

|| Mel Medarda x fem!reader

|| Warnings; slight season two spoilers about Mel, injured reader, blood mentions, Mel takes care of reader, brief mentions of death but nobody dies, you decide why reader was in Zaun, short drabble

|| Summary; when reader returns from a trip down to Zaun with an injury, Mel helps her out.

Requests closed!

Started; December 15th

Finished; December 15th

HurtCember2024; Day 11, Caretaking

Author Note; firstly, sorry about how long all my fics have been taking me. I haven't had a writing mindset and I wanted the fics to be good so I haven't been writing. Secondly, thank you for 900 followers!! Love all of you 🫶 I wonder if we can hit 1,000 before the new year?

Also; don't know if Mel's magic can heal, but for the sake of this fic yes she can lmao

~~~

It was late afternoon when you'd stumbled into Mel's room after having gone down to Zaun. Looking for something. Mel, of course, hadn't been aware of your little adventure. So, when she saw you her eyes widened with worry.

"Y/N? What happened to you?" Mel forgot all about the clothes she was previously looking through. There was a party tonight; Mel was looking for an outfit to wear. But now, she was looking at you. More specifically the wound that traveled up your leg. It cut through the fabric of your pants. Stretching from the start of your heel, just above the edge of your shoe line, and twisted up to behind your knee cap. Blood dripping down from the deeper parts of the cut.

"Um... ran into a Zaunite," you explained. Tone a bit sheepish. Mel's eyes narrowed in confusion. A Zaunite? Why were you in Zaun? Or had the Zaunite come to the surface? Her mind buzzed with a million questions. Questions that she would ask once she's helped you.

Mel knelt down, taking your leg into her hands. With her magic, caretaking was a pretty easy thing for her to do. You winced as your leg was moved and Mel looked into your eyes. Her gaze soft, full of nothing but worry and sympathy for you," shh. You're okay," her voice feels like a soothing lullaby. One that makes your shoulders ease the moment it reaches your ears. You gave her a nod.

Her fingers danced along your injury. A light golden glow seeping through the tips of her fingers and into the wound. Closing it with a golden shimmer that marked the line of where it once was. The pain had left you the moment her fingers touched you. Feeling a sense of ease. You had to admit, Mel's magic was a handy little trick. It's helped you lots before.

"Better?" Mel asked, gently letting go of your leg. Allowing you to rest your foot to the floor again. You have your leg a little shake, testing if there was any lingering pain. A smile crossed your lips when there wasn't any.

"Yep! Thank you, Mel," you thanked her. She stood, hands gently caressing your cheeks while she looked into your eyes. Your own eyes locked with hers, those absolutely stunning eyes... you could stare into them all day without getting bored. They were just memorizing.

"You truly need to be more careful. What ever will I do with you, hm?" Mel met your smile with her own. She loved you, but you were always getting yourself into trouble that she had to drag you out of. Honestly you'd probably be dead if not for her. She didn't mind, though. You and your shenanigans were just free entertainment for her.

"Maybe kiss me?" You suggested shamelessly, earning yourself a laugh from your girlfriend.

"Is that all you want? Well, I think we can make that happen," her lips latched to yours. Dancing in soft rhythms. Your arms wrapped around Mel's neck loosely. Bringing her in closer to you.

The kiss lasted as long as it could before Mel's focus was back to your leg, frowning again at the blood that still lingered," let's get you into the shower." You weren't about to argue with that. Perhaps you could convince her to join.

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moosesarecute · 2 months ago

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December 8th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s letters to Y/N:

Cassian spilled soup all over the floor yesterday. That’s nothing unusual, but it was all over a new carpet Feyre just bought. Feyre was about to become very angry when Nyx started laughing louder than ever before. Cassian is now Nyx’s favourite person.

I’m convinced that if Nyx knew you, you would outrank Cassian very quickly. I don’t know how much he knows about his auntie Y/N, but I know you would be the best aunt he could ever wish for.

“I suggest we take a few steps back, just to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen again,” Jo spoke.

Madja and Jonathan had spoken, and they thought that perhaps the therapy was moved forward too quickly and that his heart had a breakdown because of it.

Jo had his eyebrows raised and a little tilt to his head. The usual signs that he wanted Azriel to respond, but he didn’t.

He hadn’t spoken since he told Cassian that he was okay the day before. He felt a little childish, but not speaking made him feel lighter. He didn’t have to rethink every sentence before he said it. It felt nice.

“Let’s do something fun instead. Why don’t we draw something? Or write a letter for Mr. Claus?”

It was now Azriel’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Mr. Claus? Who was that? Jonathan luckily picked up on his unspoken question.

“As you know, the mortals used to live by many different religions. One of them had saints. Saints grew up as normal humans, but they lived and often also died for their religion and a miracle would happen after their deaths. One of them, Saint Nicholas, was known for giving his money to the poor and therefore humans started to think of him as a Saint that came with gifts. Human kids started writing letters to him and hoped that they would get what they wished for Christmas. Christmas Eve was at 24th of December, so only three days after Winter Solstice. It is said that when the mortals’ religions disappeared, Saint Nicholas moved to the Winter Court under the name Mr. Claus.”

Azriel thought his therapist had gone mad. He was an adult male, both were, he was not going to write a letter to a non-existing gift-giver and ask for something for Winter Solstice.

“It was only a suggestion, you don’t have to look at me like I’m mad,” Jonathan said. “Even though I am a little mad.”

“Have you written to him before?” Azriel asked. He surprised himself by speaking, but he wanted to make sure Jonathan knew how absurd what he was speaking about was.

Jonathan nodded as an answer.

“I have written to him for as long as I have known about him.”

“Have you gotten what you wished for?”

Jonathan only shook his head.

“Both of us know that what I wish for is impossible to get back.” Azriel suddenly realized what he was talking about. His mate. He had wished for his mate back. “However, every Winter Solstice there is placed a red rose on Elvin’s grave. I like to think that is Mr. Claus letting me know that he had heard me.”

Azriel almost rolled his eyes. Not at Jonathan, not at all. The story was nice to hear, almost made him emotional. It made him roll his eyes at himself.

Why should he care if this Mr. Claus was real or not? It was Jonathan’s Winter Solstice tradition, and he wanted to share it. He would be a got friend and do his best.

“Do you have any paper?”

Annette woke up feeling drowsy. She blinked a few times, but her head was pounding from the light in her room. But the shivering was almost gone, and her lungs finally got enough air.

She heard quiet voices. It seemed like they were arguing.

“You can’t give her this much,” Bru whispered angry.

“She needs it daily now; I thought that if we gave more at once might need to take it less often,” Cathrine argued back.

“Are you forgetting what we are doing? What we are giving her? It’s not something to play with. We should up the dosage only a little bit every other week, that’s what the potion-master said.”

Cathrine had given her too much medicine. That’s why she was feeling so bad. It made sense. Cathrine always wanted what was best for her, and giving more medicine should in most cases be better.

Annette let out a groan as she sat up. Both Cathrine and Bru soon surrounded her. They asked how she was feeling.

“Cold, tired,” she answered. She felt too drowsy to speak full sentences.

“Let me help you into these blankets,” Cathrine said.

She moved firstly the fur so that it was tighter wrapped around her, and then she picked up one of the blankets.

However, as she was picking up the third blanket, she leaned over Annette in a way that made her wing bend in a wrong direction.

She almost yelled out in pain and rushed to push Cathrine away. Moving as quickly as possible, Annette freed her wing and stretched it out.

It was unharmed. Luckily.

“It seems like worry for wings is a thing they get from birth,” Bru commented slyly to Cathrine. It seemed like something he didn’t want Annette to hear, but at the same time he didn’t speak quietly.

Cathrine moved slower this time around and eventually got Annette covered in all three blankets. Annette felt herself trying to move away from Cathrine. Suddenly everything felt unsafe.

“I’ll get you some stew, sweatheart.”

As Cathrine left, Annette started to think.

If they had taken care of her since she was a child, then why didn’t they know how careful she was around her wings? It was probably some sort of mistake, but Annette felt herself needing so know that it was safe.

“Bru? Can you explain exactly what happened last time. Just one more time?”

Annette asked them this often. And every time, her family became slightly more annoyed.

“You went out into the woods as usual, but then night arrived, and you didn’t come home. We got worried and started to look for you. When we found you, you were out cold and when you woke you didn’t remember any of us. You haven’t remembered anything from the time before the accident and your heart have been weak ever since.”

When Annette realized it, she almost stopped breathing. She tried to act as if it was nothing as Cathrine came with her stew and both Cathrine and Bru left the room.

She looked around. Her room was small, but it was decorated with crochet and painting she allegedly had made. And a stuffed toad she had played with as a child. Other than that, nothing screamed that she had lived there for over two hundred years. Two hundred and fifty-four. She was two hundred and fifty-four and she could only remember almost three of those years.

Because, she hadn’t been there for two hundred and fifty-four years. She was curtain about that now.

Cathrine had told her that they had tried different medicine for her, but that it was before she had lost her memory. However, Bru had just told her that her heart got weak first after the accident.

Also, if she had lived with them for over two centuries, how could they still not know that her wings were sensitive? And as she had been outside. In the beautiful, refreshing and calming nature, all her instincts had been to not go back.

She knew now, she had to leave. And that rather quickly.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86 @mellowmusings @anarchiii

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by @issysh3ll

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel shadowsinger

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goddessinnerglow · 2 months ago

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Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 2

Understanding Yourself Starts With Being Honest

Hi Goddesses! Yesterday we talked about what becoming our best selves means, and today we're diving into something really important, meeting ourselves exactly where we are.

Picture yourself packing for a journey. You'd check what you already have in your suitcase before deciding what else you need, right? That's exactly what we're doing today on our path to 2025, taking a inventory of where we are right now.

I know, I know. Self-assessment can feel a bit intimidating. Maybe you're worried about facing some truths, or perhaps you think it might be discouraging. But think of it as like turning on the GPS before starting a journey. You need to know your starting point to get where you want to go.

First things first: breathe. This isn't about judgment. Think of it as having coffee with your most supportive friend (that's me!) who just wants to help you reflect and grow. Ready? Let’s start.

Start With Your Gut

Remember when you wake up in the morning and have that first quiet moment to yourself? That's when our gut feelings are often the clearest. Take a moment right now. How do you feel about where you are in life? Not what others think, not what social media says you should be doing, just your honest feelings. Grab a notebook (or open your Notes app) and write down whatever comes to mind. No filtering, no judging.

The Life Wheel Check-In

Here's something I find super helpful: imagine your life as a wheel with different spokes. Think about these areas:

Your physical health and energy levels

Your relationships (family, friends, romantic)

Your work or studies

Your personal growth and learning

Your fun and recreation time

Your living space and environment

Your financial situation

Your emotional wellbeing

For each one, ask yourself: "On a scale where 10 is 'couldn't be better' and 1 is 'needs serious attention,' where am I?" Be real with yourself, this is just between us.

The "What's Working" List

Here's something we often skip: celebrating what's already good! Before diving into what you want to change, write down what's working well in your life. Maybe you're great at maintaining friendships, or you've been consistent with your morning routine, or you finally learned how to cook that one dish you love. These wins, big or small, are your foundation for growth.

The Honest Reality Check

Now comes the part that requires some courage: looking at areas where you feel stuck or unsatisfied. But here's the twist, we're going to do this with compassion. Instead of thinking "What's wrong with me?" ask yourself:

What's challenging me right now?

What keeps coming up in my thoughts as something I wish were different?

Where do I feel like I'm not living up to my own standards (not anyone else's)?

Your Future Self Letter

This is one of my favorite exercises: Write a letter from your future self (let's say December 2024) to your current self. What would they thank you for starting now? What changes would they be grateful you made? This isn't about pressure, it's about connecting with your hopes and dreams.

Getting Real with Yourself

Now, let's make this assessment more practical. Pick just three things:

One thing you want to maintain (because it's working well)

One thing you want to improve gradually

One thing you want to change significantly

Write these down somewhere you'll see them daily. Your phone wallpaper, a sticky note on your mirror, wherever works for you.

Remember This, you're not broken and you don't need fixing. You're a human being on a journey of growth, just like all of us. This self-assessment isn't about finding faults, it's about understanding where you are so you can move forward with purpose.

Take a moment to appreciate yourself for doing this work. Seriously. Self-reflection takes courage, and you're already showing up for yourself by reading this and (hopefully) doing these exercises.

Stay tuned for the next post in our "Become Your Best Version Before 2025" series! Remember, you've got this!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

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anemoiashifts · 2 months ago

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december shifting pick an object reading !

hello ! happy almost christmas to those who celebrate i thought id continue with a general shifting reading & maybe some messages from people in your desired reality. i thought last months reading was a little to general for my liking, so i will be trying to add as much detail / specifics as i can to solidify the feeling that this is made for you.

as always please please don’t force messages to resonate. i do these on the first of every months so they’ll be many more chances to feel connected to a reading if these ones don’t do it for you :) !

bunny ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🐇 !

signs : pineapples, snoopy, stained clothing, missing buttons, mars, tree stumps.

you are currently going through some sort of “seasonal depression; some sort of funk. as of recent, you’ve been comparing yourself to your peers. seeing how much they can do & are capable of, it makes your (feelings of) lack amplify & hurt even more. maybe you have some sort of codependent relationship or always feel the need to confide in others approval before a task is complete ? this month you’ll find the motivation to learn new skills & plant the seeds that are needed to trust yourself.

this boils over into your outlook on shifting. people seem to fall into boxes of where they want to shift, have methods that have worked for them, have made a decision in what they’d like to experience in their desired reality. it’s not that you lack a direction, you may know where you’d like to shift. more so an indecisiveness on what you actually want. you want to shift yes, but when you really think on it, you’ve become comfortable where you are. you could struggle to see yourself shifting at all as you are a more analytical person. your someone who is very fact based, you could enjoy doing research & weighing all options before making a decision. things need to make perfect sense to you before you believe in them. this mindset only feeds into what ive mentioned above & could circle back to your feelings of being directionless. the main thing you need is clarity for your manifestations & desires.

this person is someone who is very likely defensive of & true to their beliefs; someone stubborn. birds or turtles may be relevant to them. what this person wants to remind you is consistency is key. you may jump from one project to another without finishing the last; which leaves you as someone who knows a lot of different skills / has aloe of hobbies. you don’t have to be perfect to start something & continue with it. very few people do things the first time & it comes out just how you imaged it. focus on the quality of information rather then the quantity. take this month to create a vision board of some sort. write down what you’d like to accomplish by the end of the upcoming year.

otter ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🦦 !

signs : greek lettering, pink slippers, butterfly earrings, long black wrap coats.

in your head, you have “unfinished business” to attend to. so, shifting has been kept on hold for a very long time — years for some of you. it’s always “ill try and shift after i finish my work” or “ill shift when i improve my sleep schedule”. while it’s good to have goals, you’re allowed to work on multiple things at once as long as you balance the two. take this time to reevaluate your priorities & consider what is helping or hurting you. are you really putting off shifting because your room isn’t clean and you have done laundry yet and you have a research paper ? or are you simply not in the mood for it as your mind has wandered else where. do you desire to go to a reality that you have built up in your head or have you grown out of it & would rather fall in love with another desired reality ?

there could also be some sort of desire not to shift at the moment. perhaps you like the holidays & you’re excited for them ? you’re in a stable place right now & shifting is something you fall back onto in times of distress ? however you look at shifting & where you want the future of your relationship to be with the practice later down the line, take time to nurture that vision for yourself.

this person could be someone from your family in your desired reality or a person you would consider family, even if not by blood. this person is a little bit of a player & like you, has moments of lack of direction. while this person can be hotheaded, it’s a good reminder to slow down before lashing out on others. your insecurity doesn’t grant you the right to think negatively of other people. through these moments, this person notices that you struggle to see clearly & your tendency to obsess over small things. focus on the bigger picture.

deer ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🦌 !

signs : 88 or 888, farmers markets, lillie’s, historical landmarks, purple lip gloss.

you’re not the kinda person people look at & think that you haven’t been through a lot. on the outside, you look fine. you’ve been very lucky in a lot of ways & you’re able to hold everything together really well.

often a front for something being repressed, you often have an “i don’t care” attitude or come off as really easy to be around & agreeable. you’re someone who doesn’t quite know yourself entirely. while, you recognize you’re a kind person & a good friend, you struggle with a fear of judgement & being ostracized from certain groups if they “knew the truth”. you could’ve or used to have some unconventional hobbies or are into certain subcultures that aren’t the norm.

your desired reality could be a wanted but a shamed one by nobody other then yourself. you have a love of the place of where you’d like to shift but the shame of admitting to yourself that you do consider yourself a shifter, can be a hard to accept. you’re probable someone who lives in constant fear of being “outed” as a one. you’ve gone through the ritual of blocking everyone you know in your personal life & making a mental note of not keeping physical scripts laying around. maybe shifting as a while feels a little elementary to you. even if it isn’t the practice, it could be the places you’d like to shift itself that allow these thoughts to conjure up inside your head. if you are able to work on quieting that noise of shame & insecurity, you will soon have your desired fulfilled. — as I was typing & the time 11:11 appeared on my desktop if that number means anything to you.

the main thing somebody from your desired reality wants you to know is to listen to your dreams. your dreams are apart of your subconscious & your subconscious holds the key to how you operate. if your circadian rhythm is off, take this as a sign to start to get it back on track. i really couldn’t get a read on who this person was, so i assume whoever your thinking of is this person or they prefer to remain anonymous.

thank you for reading. i hope something was able to resonate with you ! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

#rinn’s shifting readings #desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter #reality shifter

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rustbeltjessie · 2 months ago

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I haven’t made a pinned post in a while, but since it’s my birthday month and I’m struggling right now, I figured it’s a good time to make one.

First, let me introduce myself. I’m Jessie Lynn McMains, aka Rust Belt Jessie. I’m a writer (poetry and prose), artist, zine-maker, spoken word performer, occasional musician, small press publisher, and general jack of several creative trades. I’m queer—bi/mspec and nonbinary (I use they/them, she/her, and he/him pronouns). I’m disabled and neurodivergent, and the parent of two kiddos. Politically? Well, I consider myself an anarchist at heart, but I still vote in every election. I think everyone should be able to have enough food, and a safe place to live, and yeah, even a few ‘unnecessary,’ fun things, just by virtue of being alive. As for the rest of my beliefs, you can probably garner a general idea if you peruse my blog even a little.

Now, onto the nitty-gritty. We had about ten days between when our last month’s food money ran out and when this month’s came in. It has been refilled as of today, so I don’t have to worry about that for the moment, but because of that gap, I had to spend money I’d set aside for other stuff on food. I paid our rent and energy bill for the month, but I’m a couple months overdue on our Internet bill, and I don’t want to risk that getting shut off. And then, well, it’s December. I’m trying to buy my kids some Christmas presents, and it’s not just my birthday month—my youngest kiddo’s birthday is four days before Christmas. Because of all this, I’m also way behind on writing stuff. I owe my zine subscribers a new issue (I didn’t send anything at all in November), and I’m trying to finish up some pieces to record for my new spoken word EP, but I’ve had to focus on day job and side-hustle stuff that’s more immediately lucrative, so I haven’t been able to dedicate much time to finishing these projects.

If you’d like to throw some $$ my way so I can get some gifts for my kiddos, keep my Internet on, get back to my writing, and maybe have a less-stressful birthday month than I did last year, I have V*nmo (JessieLynnMcMains) and P*yp*l (coeur.de.fantome [at] gmail[dot]com).

But hey, hey, I’m not just asking for something for nothing! I have a lot of stuff available on Ko-fi (rustbeltjessie), including print books and zines, ebooks and zines, and pins, and you can also hire me as an editor or commission a custom mini-collage. And almost everything is sliding scale/pay-what-you-can, some with a minimum price, others starting at $0.

And that zine subscription? It’s still not too late to get in on it, even though the year is almost over. If you sign up now, you’ll receive all previous issues, along with this month’s when it’s finished, and the final two will be mailed out in January.

Or perhaps you’d like to buy or commission something I don’t officially have for sale. Maybe you’d like to buy one of my existing pieces of art? Or commission a custom pin, designed by me, based on the band/film/fandom/whatever of your choice? Or commission a custom postcard poem/art piece, on the subject of your choice? Or have me write you a custom mini-zine, on the subject of your choice? I can do all those things! DM me, and we’ll work something out!

Oh, and I mentioned above that I was working on a new spoken word EP? Go check out my full-length spoken word album, Self-Portrait With Ghosts and Trains, which was released by Hello America Stereo Cassette in July 2021. You can find it at helloamerica.bandcamp.com. (I do get royalties from that release periodically, but it’s not as immediate as if you purchase something directly from me.)

All that said, I know times are tough for most people right now, so please don’t feel obligated to purchase anything or otherwise send money my way. And, as always, even just a few dollars helps, as does reblogging/boosting this post. 🖤

#rust belt jessie #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #pinned post #please boost #i’ll reblog this later with direct links added #thanks in advance

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eli0004 · 10 months ago

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Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot headcanons #aot x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan

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ahedderick · 29 days ago

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Taxing Situation

Started my day by dragging an large, angry cat to the vet's office for his biopsy. He has a small "something" on his ear and also a small mass on his chest. I'm hoping for the best.

Then, having emailed a financial advisor (12/20) and called him (1/03) to no avail, I swung my stylish ass into his office. As in, slightly-muddy Carhartt and wellington boots, because I was cleaning snow off the car and forgot to change. "May I have," I said to his office manager, very patiently, "This&that paperwork for the trust my father set up."

[Aside, I found out late in December that a trust my father set up a few years before his death was supposed to have its own tax filings. I had no idea, nor was I told when he passed away in 2022, that I was supposed to be handling that. The income from the trust is being paid as a monthly annuity to my father's partner for her life.]

Madam printed me the majority of the paperwork that my accountant requested. Two late returns will have to be filed. How this will all fall out, and how much trouble I will be in, is still unknown. It is possible that my accountant will be able to write a pitiful letter to the IRS on my behalf and get late-filing penalties reduced. Because this really, truly, wasn't my fault.

I will not go down to Home Farm, pick up the urn with my father's ashes, and shake it very hard. Probably. I do think MOST of the problem here came from the Finance Bro not telling my father what ongoing paperwork this trust would generate, nor telling me when I met with him after my father's death that I had special filing requirements.

Gah. !!!!

Now I need to shake off my frustrations and find something productive to do. Perhaps try to lay out some basic lines for a painting. Or pet a cat. Or make soup.

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xyurishux · 5 months ago

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CHAPTER 1 - AS A WHOLE, TOGETHER

Word Count: ~1.7k

Tags: GN!reader, Mentions of family disputes

Summary: You begin to tell Sebastian how deep UrbanShades rabbit hole truly goes, starting with yourself.

Pardon any writing errors, they may happen!

“ oh sweetie, you’re not ugly, society is,”

“So,

When I was younger, life was as normal as can be. I was in mediocre family, it was me, my mom and my dad. I’d only see my mom in the morning, and when I was back from school my dad would be home for dinner. It wasn’t until way later I learned about his job, but that isn’t relevant right now. My dad was a mystery to me, he’s my dad but I didn’t know much to anything about him. I saw him everyday when I got home but it’s was for such a small period of time, did it even count?

Life was so mundane and repetitive. Go to school, pass tests, summer break then restart it all over again. Life was boring but it wasn’t difficult.

I would do anything to be back there…” You paused looking out into the ocean, it was dark you could mistake it for the above, only simply at night. You breathe out from your nose continuing on with your story.

“Anyways, it was back in September of 2009 when my father got a promotion. Seeing his face 4 to 5 hours per day dwindled down to seeing him once every two weeks or so, usually on Sundays. He became an enigma.

“You see, something I couldn’t see at the time was that as I grew older, his need to be in my life lowered, and sadly, that same fate fell too with my mother by default.

His job already took a toll on their relationship. Only spending 4 to 5 hours with your partner every day over the span of five years isn’t so great.

My mother would see him as much as I did and now, he just wasn’t there. The signs of a falling relationship presented themselves beforehand, but now it was obvious to anyone that the only thing keeping them together was me. At least, for my mom that was the case.

“The house was more silent than it ever was empty…”

You looked to the side with your eyes to see Sebastians full attention on you, perhaps it was the story? Or maybe he didn’t have anything better to do or it might have been the way your voice spoke with full sincerity and no sarcasm. It was like someone else took control but it was undoubtedly you and he was fully enthralled.

Your eyes met and you looked back down at the cold tile as you carried on.

“Ether way, it was in November of that same year where things would shift. My mom would realize the steady money flowing in and at growing amounts. Now you have to understand that my mother isn’t of the suspicious type nor is she a person who comes up with wild conclusions. She was (and still is, I hope) a reasonable and sensible woman. She knew that this wasn’t a simple ‘promotion’, but to know where all this money came from, well…she didn’t have the slightest clue. She didn’t know and she would never know. Well, truly know…

“The first snow started to fall as December began and Winter break freed me from my studying. Shockingly, dad came home for the holidays and New Years. Funny anecdote, I remember getting my first iPhone as a gift from him that year. It was an iPhone 3GS, God the memories…my mother was not pleased in slightest.” You laughed silent tilting your head to the side as your reminisced, it was good and loyal phone…

“Continuing on, after Christmas as a family and with the family the next day, my parents had the only disagreement I’ve ever witnessed (only a disagreement, it wasn’t enough to count as a fight).

I think it was about 2 am and the only light that was on was the one above the kitchen table. My dad was sitting facing my mother who standing up, the last of the family who came over for the party had finally left. Chip bowls and wine glasses were still scattered on the coffee table, only barely visible by the outside Christmas lights. I watched as my mom tapped her nails against the wooden chair she was partly leaning on as she took a deep breath. I could tell she was tired, exhausted even but I could also tell she had something bugging her and she needed to let it out. I watched them from the darkness that the staircase provided, I was undetectable. I listened to them talk, leaning my upper body to the wooden railing trying not to miss a single word. I don’t remember much; it was about the money at first but it was nothing compared to what my mother said next.”

“Samantha, look- “

“I’m breaking up with you”

“My mother broke up with my father. I sat upon the steps dumbfounded, I didn’t expect that from their conversation but even then, I didn’t know what to expect. The last of the conversation consisted of my father staying silent and staring at the table as my mom talked important matters to him. She told him that she would stay for the New Years and then move in with a friend in an apartment she found. After that she finished the glass of wine my dad poured for her at the start and left the kitchen when he didn’t have anything to add.

I’m pretty sure that night was the only time I saw my dad cry. He was still in love with her, never ever once thinking of ending their relationship. Never ever once thinking of loving another woman.

Most children would walk down the stairs they sat on and go comfort their weeping father or at least ask if he was okay. But our relationship was so estranged to the point where I felt no reason to go down and comfort him. He simply was just my father, nothing else nothing more.

I watched him cry silently with his head in his hand as I sat on the steps with my legs close to my chest. I sat there for a few more minutes. I don’t know why I sat there watching for so long. Maybe I was intrigued with the sight, it was something new. A man I’ve know all my life was a mystery to me and now the last sight I might ever see of him is him crying his heart out. But soon enough I got tired, I walked back up to my bedroom and fell asleep to noise of the on going shower my mom was taking downstairs.

The next morning felt cold and unbalanced. The floor was cold to the touch and it was actually closer to noon then morning. The hall was silent as I walked down it and saw at the end of it that my mom was packing a suitcase and a large duffle bag. They were both placed on the bed with an equal amount of folded and unfolded clothes thrown around the two. It was enough to be unable to see the white and blue floral comforter underneath (or I remember it to be enough). I walked into the room and as if I didn’t witness the scene at the kitchen table last night I asked, “Are we going somewhere?”

She was so concentrated with her packing that she jumped startled when she heard my voice. With her hand over her heart, she turned to me with a forced smile (I knew that it was) and spoke words that I will never forget.”

“What were they?” Sebastian asked quietly, his full upper body now laying against the desk where you two sorted files on together almost an hour ago.

You smiled, “Well,

“Sweetheart! You scared me there,” She said, her smile faltering, “No, mommy is going somewhere, alone, but not forever. You’ll have to stay with dad for awhile.” She turned her head away as she folded a few pants and placed them into her suitcase. Then she squatted, and I had to look down to see her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her lashes wet. I felt her hands on my upper arms as she continued to talk, “Mommy, mommy needs to go find herself for a bit, okay? Not for long but mommy needs this…I love you, eternally and always”

She left the same day with kiss on the forehead, her phone number seared into my mind and a “Be good while I’m gone, I’m a single phone call away”

And then I was there, at my door step, cold and watching as my mom entered her friend’s car with one last kiss blown to me. I caught it and placed it onto my cheek as she drove off. Now it was me and my estranged father and a lot of complex emotions I didn’t know how to decipher or begin to understand at the age of ten.”

You finished, pausing to take a breath for a second while also stretching your aching muscles.

“And then what? What does this have to do with us? With me?” Sebastian asked harshly as he raised himself from the desk.

“Give me a second, I need water and a snack, I’m a bit peckish,” you joked, smirking to him, before continuing, “Ether way, we’re barely getting into the meat of the story. I was just explaining how I got stuck with my father. Now will be getting into what he was doing

behind closed doors…”

And we start rolling, ~

@splatting-stampede

#pressure roblox #roblox pressure #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace roblox #roblox sebastian solace #projecteternity

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kanmom51 · 6 months ago

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Rebirth - Muse - JM

[**This post was written before the release of today's BTB and the little explanation JM gave us about Rebirth and Slow dance. What can I say other than just how much more my words feel relevant now. ]

As promised.

Thought I'd sneak this one in before Are you sure? lands, cause Idk, I just have this feeling that once it does we are up for 1 of two options:

I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of content we are getting that I'll be so dumbfounded and unable to post at all; Or, I will be so busy ruffling through everything running after my own tail trying to post post post post, that I will have zero time or ability to post this.

Long story short, this was the time. Do or die pretty much.

So Intro: Rebirth.

Before I get into the lyrics themselves I do want to go back to what we learnt from the Minimoni album exchange.

I kind of feel like a broken record here, but then again, I do think that obviously watching that exchange and my post on it can be a good starting point into understanding not only what Muse is all about, but also that out of all the songs on the album, Rebirth, in a sense, is just a little more personal than the others.

JM talks how the lyrics for this one were really hard to write. He mentions this a couple of times.

This was also when JM talked it was hard to write about having a crush.

Before moving on and talking about the song itself I do want to clarify something here.

I was really surprised to see how people are interpreting this.

Do people not know what the meaning of the word crush is? Not only the actual term JM used in Korean (that perhaps got lost in translation), but the actual meaning of the word in English.

짝사랑 - this is the term JM used while talking to RM.

Which basically translates as unrequited or one sided love, which is just that if you understand the actual term of the word.

Go to Oxford dictionary and crush is described as: "a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable." And if you look up "infatuation" well: "an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something."

Now, when I heard the word crush that is exactly what I understood and it was funny for me to see that there were those that interpret the word as falling in love or being in love or similar to that, when crush means something else all together.

*Side note: JM's love life aside, knowing the concept of JM's album, it's easy to understand why he chose to use the idea of a crush as a metaphor to describe that short lived passion/excitement he was feeling with his work, telling us or showing us, with the development of the songs in the album, that indeed it is short lived and he was yet to find that long lasting feeling of excitement with the things he was doing (work/his art) - still searching for that "who".

Back to the meaning of crush.

As explained, a crush in English means an intense infatuation with another that is mostly unattainable. Two people can crush on each other, but it's a crush only as long as it is yet to be requited. Once it is reciprocated then it's no longer a crush. So, you can crush on someone unknowing that the other person has a crush on you. This crush can fizzle out and end in nothingness. But a crush evolve into a relationship if the two people involved move forward from it. Making that move forward towards each other.

This is what having a crush looks like:

And this is how it looks when you had a crush and are realizing that maybe, just maybe that person is reciprocating.

And this is when you have decided that he really is.

That was back in 2015 btw. August 2015 and December 2015. ALMOST 9 YEARS AGO.

Unattainable.

Short-lived.

Are we surprised JM wouldn't remember the last time he had a crush?

I will repeat this for the rows in the back that might not have heard. When JM says he doesn't remember the last time he had a crush, that doesn't mean he's single. Whoever thinks that is what he's saying needs a crash course in English and/or life.

A crash course in crush... lmao (yes, I am easily entertained).

So, JM had to turn to the youngest member of SGMB (lol) to remind him what it feels like to have a crush. And yet, as I have explained in the Minimoni post, Muse might not be autobiographical, but that doesn't mean that there aren't personal aspects to some of the songs, and the lyrics. Feelings expressed being real feelings drawn from his trove of inner thoughts, feelings and life and love experiences.

I will also add that although crushing is mostly one sided, and when it turns into more, as in the other party reciprocates, of course there are some of the feelings that linger. The rush, the want, the need. But at the same time things change in that the other side is feeling the same. When you look at them, they look back, gazes linger rather than avoiding eye contact, for example. There are the touches when crushing, and there are the touches, just as hesitant, after it becoming MORE. The first are one sided and usually hidden as something else (for example: "I just need to check your arm muscles for a sec"), while the second are two sided, intentional but at times hidden from others.

The differences might be so very slight at times, but if you have a keen eye you can definitley notice them. And they sure were noticeable when it came to Jikook.

Another thing before I start.

One word:

SERENDIPITY

Idk why, but I feel like Rebirth is a prequel to Serendipity. Even though Serendipity was not written by JM (although I do believe he had input into the song just like or even more so with John Billion - remember how JM says he's an American RM...), it most certainly was claimed by him and JK as theirs. You are me I am you being their trademarked catch phrase. A love ode from JM to JK. That song JM said he will gift his loved one and did. Followed by GCFT, JK's love ode to JM. And if I'm going down that road, well, if Rebirth is the prequel to Serendipity I'd say that Letter is the sequel to Serendipity. I kind of think I've mentioned this before in one of my posts about Letter.

Now that I'm done with my precursor, let's move on to the actual song. A song that out of the lot of them in this album seems to be the most personal. The only song that we didn't get to see the process of writing or recording of in content we have gotten so far for Muse (promotions now over).

[Verse] If I'm tryna be special Can I get closer to you? I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me If I'm tryna be special So that I can sing while making eye contact with you I'll show you, baby Oh, I didn't realize Oh, I didn't think I'd care Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness Like the sunshine vibe It spreads quietly [Chorus] That I want a real good love, good love, good love I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love I was in pitch black, but I couldn't stop thinking of you all day long I want to take one step and two steps closer without you knowing Stay with you, with you, with you, with you I will be your reason, rеason, reason, reason I hope this feeling rеaches you, to you, you To you [Outro] White clouds The wind passing by Floating petals It feels like it's been waiting just for us When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you) I wanna be with you

I will share with you what went through my mind once listening to Rebirth, all while reading parts of the translated lyrics. The flashing scenes. Parts that screamed JK or Jikook.

"I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me"

This:

And this:

I can go on with this all day long. Being one of the most obvious sus behaviours with these two. But seeing that I don't want to exceed my image limit in this post I think this is where I will stop. Point made I guess.

"So that I can sing while making eye contact with you"

This was the first thing that came to mind:

😭😭

Although these did too:

And do we recall JK's sentiments about making eye contact with JM on stage?

They connect on stage. Before, during and at the end of the performance. We have seen it and they have told us so throughout the years.

Was that what JM was thinking of while writing that line?

This is clearly a line that is taken from his own personal experience. Singing while making eye contact is not something that regular people like you or I would come up with to express a feeling of love or want towards someone.

Drawing from his own emotions and experiences, how it is for him and how he might have used to wish it would be.

This line, more than any other is clearly that.

"Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness" and "Like the sunshine vibe"

The latter, as JM explained to RM, was a word game/pun for which he asked permission from Taeyang to use in his song, seeing that his name literally means sun and Vibe was his song, lol.

But, we also know there is someone else, much closer to home, much closer period, that is referred to as the sun. Someone that makes JM happy. Someone that makes JM laugh even when he's sad. Someone that JM chose to go into the army with, together!!! Someone that is the other half of the sun and moon duo, the sun to JM's moon.

And what about this?

I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love

And he found it.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

"When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you)

And he is. JM is special for JK. He has told and showed us this in so many ways in the past.

"I wanna be with you"

I wanna be with you...

Again, JM told us the songs aren't about his life, right? And yet, that doesn't mean they don't have a personal connection, that while writing he didn't take from his own experiences or feelings, that after writing he feels an emotional connection with the song, that even if not intended to it hits closer to home than others. And I feel like this is the case with Rebirth. I do believe that there is a reason it is the connecting song between Face and Muse. That there is a reason the interlude separates it from the rest of the songs.

#Jimin #JM #JM Muse #JM Rebirth #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #JK

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cheeseceli · 1 year ago

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Christmas

Pairing: Ot8 stray kids × Gn!Reader (individual)

Genre: fluff scenarios

Description: activities Stray Kids would like to have with you on Christmas day

Warnings: I repeat the word "Christmas" way too much, mention of food at Chan and Felix's

A/n: I don't like this but I really wanted to write something for Christmas so here it is. Next year will be better

Bang Chan - dinner

Just sitting with you in a table full of the most delicious foods he could ever think of feels like a dream. He also gets to talk to you about everything and anything all at once, reminding each other about the whole year. He realises this year was particularly good, especially with you in it. So he soon starts to talk about his plans for the future, the one he hopes he can share with you too. He has a guess that the next year will be pretty good

Lee Know - snow

It doesn't matter if it snows a lot of other days besides Christmas, you both will be out in the streets when it's 25th of December. And if it snows right at its night, you can bet that he'll be running to get out of the house asap. For a second it feels like you both are the only ones in the world and the sky had decided to snow exclusively to create this moment. Just making a snowman, creating a snow fight or even just seeing the snowflakes fall from above might be one of the prettiest moments in Minho's life. But he doesn't think it's all because of the weather.

Changbin - gift giving

He knows Christmas is way more than just gifts, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like to gift people. Especially gifting you. He loves your reaction the most. He likes how excited you get, how you try to guess what the present is and your smile when you open the box. The happiness and gratitude in your eyes is the biggest gift he could ever receive.

Hyunjin - exploring the city

He'd take you to the best places in town, the prettiest ones, so the magic of this date could feel more visible. Having Christmas lights all over the place, those huge Christmas trees and perhaps even fireworks seems like a day he'd remember. But hopefully you remember the places you visited more than him so you can tell him how it was later, because he was too focused at looking at how your eyes shone to pay attention to any firework in the sky

Han - Movies

Watching movies in your shared bed with matching pajamas from the Christmas eve till the actual Christmas. It seems perfect to him. Some might think it's basic or not memorable at all, especially for a first time spending the holiday together, but he disagrees. He loves how simple it is. Just the two of you loving each other in silence and enjoying each others company seems great. You might even fall asleep hugging one another, but that just makes it more magical in his opinion.

Felix - baking

Not cliche if it's true. This man just LOVES baking with you. Cinnamon biscuits, pies, brownies or whatever to be honest. What exactly you are baking doesn't matter so much. He just loves to be there in the kitchen with you: flour all over the place and a smile in both of your lips. The fact that it's Christmas, such an important holiday, and you chose to spend it with him just makes it more cheerful.

Seungmin - Christmas tree

Decorating the tree would be so fun next to Seungmin. You both together would have the smartest of ideas on how to design the tree this year. It would look genuinely pretty. And just trying to figure where to put each decoration and the beautiful result would be so domestic but also exclusive to him. He thinks he doesn't ever want to decorate another Christmas tree if you are not by his side

I.N - karaoke

You both would be singing Mariah Carey till 2 AM, I just know it. Jokes aside I think he would genuinely like to have a small karaoke night, Christmas themed. And even before/after that night he would probably be hugging you from behind and singing a sweet melody in your ear, which you'd later realise to be a Christmas song. It feels a little bit like a movie, one that he likes very much.

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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rheanyraaaa · 2 months ago

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WaterLilly Part 7

Enemies To Lovers

Robb Stark x Frey Reader (F)

A/N: hey guys, it’s been forever since i’ve posted bjt here i am, on a random wednesday night. I left it on a cliffhanger and disappeared i do apologise my loves but hopefully i can write some more chapters and wrap this lovely story up!

(thought lana del rey’s song fitted in this bcs it’s december 18)

——————————————————————————

Months had passed since the loss of the child, and the camp had moved on as war always demanded. But for you, the world still felt muted, shadowed by the grief you carried. In those early days, you had lashed out at Robb in your sorrow, your anger boiling over in the face of his perceived indifference (and even thrown books and other objects at him, you did have to be manhandled away by some guards from the breakdown). Yet anyways the words had been harsh, cutting deep, and though he had said little in return, the tension between you both had grown like a wall.

Now, though, there was a sense of change in the air. The camp was quieter, the ever-looming threat of battle briefly held at bay. And, perhaps most notably, Talisa was gone. Robb had sent her away with a satchel of coin and a terse farewell. No one spoke of her departure openly, though the rumors whispered that it was his mother’s final insistence that had tipped the balance.

You hadn’t mentioned Talisa since her absence became apparent, though you felt a strange mix of relief and uncertainty about it. It wasn’t a victory not in the way one might think. But it felt like a shift, and for that, you were cautiously grateful.

It was late one evening when Robb approached you near the fire pit, his expression hesitant but resolved. You were sitting alone, tending to a small piece of embroidery a simple habit you’d picked up to keep your hands busy. He stood there for a moment, silent, before clearing his throat.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said quietly.

You glanced up, the flickering firelight casting warm shadows on his face. “I don’t stray far,” you replied simply, your voice calm but guarded.

Robb shifted on his feet, as if unsure how to continue. “I wanted to… speak to you,” he said finally, sitting down on the log across from you. His blue-gray eyes met yours, and for the first time in months, there was no tension in his gaze only a quiet sort of sincerity.

You set your embroidery aside, folding your hands in your lap. “I’m listening,” you said, your tone measured.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair before letting out a small sigh. “I owe you an apology,” he began. “For everything. For how I’ve treated you, for how distant I’ve been… for Talisa.” The last word came out softly, almost reluctantly, but there was no malice in it, only acknowledgment.

You blinked, surprised by his candor, but you kept your expression neutral. “You sent her away,” you said, more a statement than a question.

Robb nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “It was the right thing to do. For her… and for us.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “And what do you mean by ‘us,’ Robb?”

His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, and there was a vulnerability in them that you hadn’t seen before. “I mean that I’ve done nothing to make this marriage work. I’ve failed you as a husband, as a partner. But I’d like to try… if you’ll let me.”

The fire crackled between you, filling the silence as his words hung in the air. You looked down at your hands, considering his offer. Slowly, you nodded.

“I won’t pretend it’s been easy,” you said softly. “But… I’m willing to try. We’ve both lost so much, Robb. Maybe it’s time we stop fighting each other and start fighting for something together.”

A faint smile touched his lips, small but genuine. “I think I’d like that.”

In the days that followed, your relationship with Robb began to shift, though the change was gradual. It started with simple gestures: shared meals, quiet conversations by the fire, fleeting glances that carried less animosity and more curiosity.

One evening, as you walked through the camp together, Robb surprised you by asking about the embroidery you carried. “What are you working on this time?” he asked, his tone light but genuinely interested.

You glanced at him, holding up the fabric. “It’s a wolf,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I thought it fitting.”

Robb chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on the design. “A direwolf for a Stark,” he mused. “It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think I’d prefer a phoenix,” you teased. “Something that rises from the ashes.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. There was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “A phoenix, then,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It suits you better than any wolf.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, but you quickly turned away, hiding your smile as you continued walking.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still moments of awkwardness, of lingering hurts that couldn’t be ignored. But step by step, you and Robb were finding your way. And for the first time, you felt hope.

——————————————————————————

tags!!

@maysileeewrites @samieree @yeahnohoneybye @nervouschaosgladiator (for some reason it won’t let me tag you)

#asoiaf #robb stark #robb stark imagines #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x frey reader #robb stark x oc #Spotify

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 2 months ago

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Vulnerable

|| Silco x fem!reader

|| Warnings; reader kicked out of Piltover, reader gets drunk, Silco manipulates reader by pretending to care, no romance (but hinted ish)

|| Summary; when reader finds herself in Silco's bar, he offers her the revenge she seeks in exchange for working with him.

Requests closed!

Started; December 5th

Finished; December 8th

HurtCember2024; Day 7, Abandoned

Author Note; little late with this one, I struggled a lot with what to write for some reason but I think it turned out alright.

~~~

Zaun was not a place you wanted to be abandoned in. You were once a high ranking member of Piltover, until the Council turned on you after finding out you were involved in.. well, some illegal activity. Mostly smuggling Shimmer into Piltover. Suffice to say, they did not appreciate that. Now you were alone. Terrified. In Zaun with nothing to protect yourself. Had the money been worth it? Not really. If you still had it in your possession, maybe. But the Council took all of it. You wandered for a while. Having debated just sneaking back into Piltover, but you knew the Enforcers would be on your ass. So, you kept to the corners. Praying you wouldn't be recognized. After all, your name was once well known. Plus, you had quite a few enemies that would sprint for the chance to take you down.

It wasn't long before a bright, neon sign caught your attention. It looked like a bar and really, you could use a drink or two. Probably more. Making your way in, you kept your head low. Careful not to bump into anyone. You got to the bar and ordered a drink, the bartender gave you a strange look. As though he recognized your fancier clothing. You definitely weren't dressed like someone from Zaun. But he kept to himself. Knowing it wasn't his job to question, but to serve drinks. Your drink was handed to you not long after and it wasn't long after that that you finished it. Having chugged most of it.

Meanwhile, Silco had come down from his office. The people in the bar making sure to move out of his way as he passed. Not wanting to take risks. He had been on his way out when you caught his attention. Of course, he knew who you were. You were one of them. A Piltie. Topsider. Sitting in his bar? That wouldn't do.

But then he questioned it. Wondering why you were here to begin with, perhaps something had happened. Perhaps you were now vulnerable. He could use that. Present you with an opportunity, maybe. He knew you had gotten Shimmer off him before, it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to assume you were on his side. He made his way through the crowd, standing a bit away from you.

"You shouldn't be here," Silco's voice took you off guard. Jumping at the sight of him, your immediate reaction was to go into a defensive stance. However, the alcohol in your system didn't make it easy. You stumbled over yourself. A sight that greatly amused Silco.

"Silco," you were in disbelief that he was talking to you. Why was he even here? The few times you'd met with him, it had never been in his office. Always some quiet corner of Piltover or Zaun. So, you didn't know this was his spot. You'd walked right into his territory without the slightest clue. You're lucky all he seems to be doing is talking to you. It could be worse.

"Who else would it be? This is my bar," Silco kept his demeanour calm, collected. Analyzing your every move. Not that he really had to, if you did decide to attack he had a whole bar of people to back him up. Besides, you were drunk. It's not like you would be some incredible fighter," the question that should be asked. Is why are you here, Topsider?" He said the words in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You'd almost forgotten how intimidating he could be. Without hardly even lifting a finger.

You weren't sure why you told him, maybe it was the alcohol. Or the need to just talk to someone, have any form of comfort or sympathy given to you," the Council kicked me out. They found out about my Shimmer deals. Took every coin I'd made," saying it out loud brought a wave of emotions over you. First sadness at having nothing, then anger for what they did to you. You wanted revenge on the Council. Silco could see it in your eyes.

He listened to you, hearing the story you told him. Of course, he wasn't sympathetic. But he could pretend to be, if it would get you more on his side," they were awful to you," Silco started. Resting a hand to your shoulder. The touch made you tense at first, but then you relaxed into him. Needing it more than you cared to admit," I could help you get your revenge. If that is something you desire."

You didn't even think about it, giving him a nod. It was probably the fastest you had ever agreed to anything," please," you tried not to sound as desperate as you were. But Silco noticed. He could sniff out desperation like a dog sniffing fear. It never went unnoticed by him.

Silco grinned.

"You would, of course, have to work under me. I need to know that I can trust you, loyalty is important to my cause," he continued.

"Yeah, yeah- whatever I have to do," you grumbled. Oh, he was glad he stopped to talk with you.

"Perfect. Meet me up those stairs tomorrow morning," he points toward where his office is," by 8 sharp. We'll continue our talk then," he gave your shoulder a pat before leaving you to the bar. He was looking forward to your meeting with him, more than he would ever admit out loud. Especially to you.

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darlingsugu · 1 month ago

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casual || suguru geto/reader [01]

Synopsis: It's your final semester in college, and the fear of missing out has compelled you to do something new - to be someone else. Your quest takes you to the basement of Suguru Geto, an infamous party boy who'd earned the devotion of half the campus. He's otherwordly beautiful, but there's no way he would ever be interested in someone like you... right? As long as you keep it casual, that is.

Tags: suguru/reader, slow burn, eventual smut, very angst, modern!au, haibara lives, college!au, opposites attract vibe.

a/n: nothing spicy in this one, but we need to set the scene, I hope you enjoy, this is my first fic after a very long writing break and I just wanted to write something. Thank you <3 ~ sade

w/c: 4.8K

"So this is it then, huh?"

The wintry air was bitterly cold as the wind picked up, crystalline snowflakes falling soundlessly from the overcast evening sky. Suguru stood in front of you, his hands shoved in his pockets while his expression remained unreadable. For a moment, it was hard to tell if it was snowing harder or if your vision was simply blurring from the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. There was a bitter taste in your mouth, a nagging sense of disappointment gnawing at your stomach as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. You were warned, dozens of times, not to go nosing around in Suguru's complex world. But still, the temptation had been too great, and lost within your own illusion, you'd failed to notice the signs as they piled up in front of you.

"I don't know what you expected," He offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Hell, it wasn't like you expected different, deep down. Yet still, you felt owed something. Some kind of explanation after all this time that might perhaps make sense of the pain growing in your chest. You didn't want to believe the obvious, no, you couldn't. The Suguru you'd come to know wasn't the same one everyone spoke about, he wasn't the same party boy you'd met all those months ago. He was different - he is different.

"Why though, we were having fun, it was casual-"

"It doesn't really matter though, does it," He questioned, gazing around campus with avid interest.

"Like hell it doesn't!"

You're standing there huffing, crying harder as your brain realizes what's happening. How silly it all felt now, thinking that he could be anything different. Suguru Geto, a party boy whose two interests were alcohol and sex, preferably both at once. Was it the chase? The satisfaction of getting something he wanted, something hard earned? From kind words and late nights, he'd earned your trust and devotion - and suddenly overnight you became just like a string of his other hookups. A bitter ex.

"You said casual, I gave you casual. No strings attached, remember," He challenged, raising his eyebrows, "we agreed to break it off if things changed."

Still, you wanted to plead. Couldn't you just return to the start, before you got too close? Before you came to know a part of him that seemed invisible to the rest of the world, your own private Suguru who only shined when you did. Was it all casual, every kiss, every heartfelt touch, every time he ever fell asleep pressed to the cinderblock walls of your dorm room? Was it casual when he showed you his favorite songs and made a mixtape for you?

Which one of you toed the line first, though?

Was it you by accepting his initial invitation, having known the entire time that you always secretly hoped for something more? Was it delusion, or hope, that made you believe in a different version of him that was unlike the one everyone else knew?

"I have to go," Suguru said, nodding his head towards the maze of buildings behind him, "I have a meeting with one of my professors."

He doesn't wait for your response, turning his back towards you as he threaded through the snow. It fell harder now, the late December sky devoid of any meaningful light. You tried not to feel bitter, tried to remind yourself that you were prepared for this reality. Hell, maybe you were naive, an outsider to his strange world, destined to always watch from the window. Why did you feel so paralyzed, standing alone in the snow as you watched him retreat?

When did it start, when did everything change, could you ever go back to before? Even if it meant always keeping him at a distance?

The distant hum of a thundering bass track echoes down the empty pathways of campus, a mix of sweaty bodies spilling out of a two story home. It sits on the edge of campus, nothing special yet definitely the nicest on the block when considering the standard of college rentals. It was larger than the others, the only two story, and it was currently known by its reputation as 'the party house'. If you were looking to get drunk on the weekends, you'd walk over and you were almost always guaranteed to find a party happening. This weekend, however, was a special occasion - it was the start of the semester blow out, which meant that almost everyone who knew was going.

You stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as a gust of late August air swept past your exposed skin. The dress you'd bought on impulse was shorter than you were used to, but any fear you might have had dulled as you saw the numerous mini skirts and tight crop tops. It was the start of something new, a chance to be someone different in order to shed yourself of a lingering sense of social isolation. It wasn't that you couldn't make friends, per say, but simply that you had a difficult time trusting others.

Sure, a college party might not have been the best place to find new friends, but it wasn't like you had to become best friends with these people. That was the beauty of college - there was no social pressure to remain friends.

More people spilled out from the open doorway clutching solo cups, their faces soft pink from intoxication. The bass track grew louder as you slowly made your way inside. There were at least a hundred people packed in the first floor alone, everybody blissfully in their own world. There was a group crowded around the television, some game you didn't recognize playing on the screen as people watched the progression. In the kitchen, the crowd was less dense, roughly ten that were speaking quietly amongst themselves around a litany of various alcohols.

The smell of marijuana was floating down from the basement, thin plumes of smoke rising up the stairwell as you ventured further down. The bulk of the party goers were down there, but the space sprawled out further than you anticipated. Colorful stage lights were placed meticulously around the room, illuminating the dark room in a rainbow of different shades. The stereo sat in the corner, speakers in each corner of the room rattling as people shouted over the music to each other.

There was another alcohol table set up in one of the corners, and a couple kegs to either side of it. It was clear the hosts had spared no expense, but it was immediately obvious why the home had garnered the title of Party House. You'd heard of the hosts only in passing, seeing them a handful of times around campus. In your previous semester, you'd been too nervous to ever attempt going somewhere like that alone, so you'd mainly stuck inside your dorm. It wasn't that you weren't nervous now, of course, but you were hoping to latch on to the one or two familiar faces you were bound to find.

Almost immediately, your eyes find one such familiar face, but a pit of vexation claws its way inside your stomach at the sight of him. In the spring, you'd had the displeasure of having a class with one Satoru Gojo, who, despite his good looks, was one of the most annoying figures you'd encountered. He was overly confident, and dreadfully cocky, but most painfully - he was incredibly smart. It was hard to call him on anything without inspiring the ire of over half the women on campus.

He enjoyed interrupting classes immensely, one of those students who thought they knew more than the professor, and he would keep it going until he noticed the teacher was getting pissed. Then, he'd simply toss his arms up with a little grin and say, 'I'll surrender'. It made getting through any lecture a hassle but you weren't trying to get on the campus golden boy's bad side. It was easier to avoid him, and so you had - until now.

He stood behind the alcohol table as the bartender of sorts, only he'd stopped short of serving his guests as his attention was entirely focused on the woman standing before him. She had her fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt, her lips ghosting over his as a dopey, love struck smile came over his face. It was amusing, almost, to see someone so confident become complete putty in someone's hand.

"Satoru!"

A heavy voice spread over the crowd from immediately behind you, the looming presence of a stranger abruptly close. You jumped on reflex, goosebumps rising to your arms as a hand pressed against the middle of your back. The figure moved forward, and almost immediately you were struck by his appearance. To say he was gorgeous was the understatement of the year, possibly the decade.

He was taller than the other party goers, with stark black hair that was wrapped up in a bun, strands falling and framing his face in the colorful light. It was almost ethereal, the way he turned to look at you over his shoulder as he moved past you. A strobe light was reflecting off the piercings in his ears, his eyes a dark yet warm mahogany brown. You were so taken by him that you almost missed him speaking directly to you.

"Sorry, doll."

He said it with a grin, and almost as quickly as he arrived, he was gone as he lurched through the crowd towards his friend. Satoru was pouting, his expression one of annoyance as the woman peered between the two of them.

"Whaaatt," He was whining, wrapping one arm around the woman.

You missed the rest of their conversation, their voices only a soft murmur amongst the loud voices at the party. You pulled a bottle from a tub filled with melting ice, not quite trusting the various hard liquors that had been passed around by everyone that night. On a small couch pressed to the wall, you were relieved once more to find your across the hallway dorm neighbor - Shoko.

She lounged cooly on the loveseat by herself, no one daring to approach as she took a slow drag from a cigarette perched between her fingers. She was speaking softly to another person sitting across from her. It was Haibara, a boy you'd had a handful of classes with in the previous semester. He was quiet, and you'd worked on a few projects with him during midterms. Not a remarkably noticeable character, but he did his work and was relatively kind, as far as you could tell.

Shoko's eyes drift over to you, lifting in surprise as she takes you in.

"You came out of the cave," She says cooly, a small small stretching across her features as she gestures to the seat beside Haibara.

You take the cue with gratitude, settling down in the empty seat as Haibara shoots you a welcoming smile.

"What made you wanna come here of all places," She asked.

"I just wanted to..."

You trailed off, pondering the real reason. Sure, you wanted to do something different but it was more than that. It was about proving to yourself that you weren't secretly just strange, to erase the alien feeling that you felt when trying to connect with people. You had friends back home - why was it so hard to do the same thing here? It was like a wall stood between you and anyone you tried to connect with, but it always followed the same pattern.

It would go well at first, exchanging absentminded small talk and sharing similar interests. Then without fail, you'd think about the interactions too hard and end up saying something weird or off putting, effectively killing your chances at friendship immediately. It was one thing to be weird in an established relationship, it was another thing to bring it full force right out of the gate. So, you opted mostly to remain silent.

"A drink," Shoko offers, as if sensing your internal discomfort.

"Yeah, definitely."

You open up the bottle - it's one of those low percentage wine coolers that tastes like an overly sweetened cherry cough medicine. The taste of alcohol is barely there, but it lingers at the back of your throat uncomfortably long as you try hard to appear more naturally in front of the crowd.

"I didn't know you two knew each other," Haibara says, "we had biology together last semester and got saddled with Mei for the final."

He groans at the memory, as you recall Mei - the only person on campus who might have been stranger than you felt. It worked for her, in a weird, off putting way, but only simply because she was conventionally attractive and had the confidence of a God. She was, however, an absolute scam artist and had paid someone else to do her portion of the final. Naturally, her portion had come on the final day for submissions, which had sent both you and Haibara into a panic as you exchanged frenzied texts in the group chat.

"Oh I would have complained," she said, laughing, "what a tragedy."

"She almost screwed us!"

The three of you fell into an easy rapport, milling over your upcoming classes as graduation loomed closer. Really, this is the semester you should be focusing on the most - but you'd spent 7 out of your 8 semesters holed up inside your dorm basically, attending few campus events. Sure, your grades were fantastic because of it, but you wanted to do something more before entering into full adulthood and post grad life. Something to remember the experience by that wasn't nights spent cramming over materials - something memorable and exciting.

"What are you gonna do post grad?"

The question is directed at you, both of them looking at you in curiosity.

"Something in business, probably."

You'd chosen a boring yet stable major, the stability of a predictable life far more appealing than something riskier with less opportunity. Growing up in chaos had motivated your internal desire, you'd had enough excitement already. This final semester was like the last hurrah, the goodbye to any partying era you might have.

"You're just like Nanami," Haibara says, grinning, "you remind me a lot of each other."

"You're so right," Shoko agrees, nodding her head encouragingly.

"He's already got a job lined up as a salaryman, he's so lucky..."

Nanami Kento, a name that rings a bell only after a few moments of reflection. He'd entered into university early, having graduated tech school a year earlier than any of his peers. Like you, he was relatively quiet and often sat in the front row of the few classes you shared together. He didn't seem to care for the college world of partying and reckless decisions - at twenty, he already seemed so much older. He would do well in the business world, you were sure of it.

"Maybe if you studied harder you'd have a job lined up," Shoko teased, "but you're here instead."

At that, Haibara blushes, crossing his arms over his chest in mock defiance. Shoko laughs, her voice pleasant among the music. You'd relaxed enough during the exchange to let your guard down, missing the way her eyes flickered just above your head, her hand raising in a greeting. You turned around, your breath catching in your throat once more as you stared at the boy with long hair from earlier. He wasn't looking at you this time, his attention focused surely on Shoko.

"Look at you being social," He teased, his voice like honey when paired with the vibrating bass, "come do pong with us."

She looks to you in invitation, quirking her eyebrows up. Haibara was pouting, disappointed not to have been chosen as you looked between the two of them in slight alarm. You'd never played beer pong before, doubting your skill against people who were very clearly more experienced. The stranger from before clapped one hand down against the back of the arm chair, turning his attention to you finally as he extended the other hand.

"Come on, we'll take it easy on you guys."

You have to remind yourself of your motivation, your desire to be more social as you reluctantly stand up. Shoko followed behind you, with Haibara gesturing you towards the table in the corner. Luckily, most people are in their own little worlds, staring at the table with only vague interest. Satoru was already standing on one end, lining up cups in a triangle before looking up to your arrival.

"You got two!"

You go to stand beside Shoko as she bounces a pong ball against the table, waiting for him to finish setting up.

"Listen, it's easy. Just sink the balls in their cup, Just don't think about it too hard."

It seemed like an impossible act, a reminder of how little she knows you. Still, you steel your nerves as Satoru tossed another ball towards you. You caught it easily, breathing a sigh of relief as you narrowed your gaze down the folding table. Shoko shot first, easily sinking her ball into one of the back cups with ease as the stranger fished it out with a slight grin.

"Don't think about it," Shoko urged.

You take her advice, acting on impulse as you shoot, watching in anticipation as it circles the rim of a cup, before trailing off, bouncing against the table and right into Satoru's hand.

"You're psyching her out, Sho," The stranger says.

At that, the stranger shoots, easily sinking a ball in one of your cups as Satoru does the same for Shoko. It feels almost unfair to be pit against two people who are very clearly experienced in playing. You're determined, however, fishing the ball from the cup as you take a long drink from the bottle, wincing slightly at the sweet cherry flavor. The pressure is on you again, but you take Shoko's advice and toss the ball before you have time to overthink it. To your pleasure, it falls almost immediately in the center cup, and beside you, Haibara starts cheering.

"Nice," the stranger purred, his head tilting back to expose his pale neck as he takes a drink, "you'll be a pro in no time.”

You brighten up at his praise, giving him a gentle smile. Shoko seems proud, grinning as she sinks another ball. By now, people have begun to grow more interested in the game as you go back and forth, the cups on the table dwindling as you begin to feel looser and more confident. Much as you hate to admit it, Satoru was decent company while not in class, his bombastic personality suiting the party scene in a way that provides a never ending stream of amusement.

“Hey, Shoko,” Your voice was a mere whisper as you leaned over towards her, watching from your peripheral vision as she tossed the pong ball. “Hm?” “Whose Satoru’s friend?”

You were chewing the inside of your cheek, watching as the stranger’s face twisted with concentration, preparing his next shot.

“Suguru,” She answered smoothly, “trust me on this one though, it’s not a hill you wanna climb.”

There’s an undertone to her phrasing, a deeper expression taking hold of her usually bored face. There’s tension there, and you immediately back down, content with her answer. It made sense, much as you wanted to ignore the small tickle of disappointment that had flooded you. A party boy being messy, who could have guessed. He seemed more reserved than Satoru, unphased by the attention of others as he high fived his friend, gleeful at his successful shot.

You take another long drink. At this point, you’re both evenly tied with three cups each. Suguru was watching you intensely, waiting for your next move as you took a deep breath, watching as the ball missed completely, bouncing off the table as Shoko cursed quietly next to you, missing her own shot as it bounces off Satoru’s torso.

“You tryna tell me something,” He chuckles, right before missing his own shot.

“Flop,” Haibara retorted, Suguru elbowing him lightly as he sunk another ball.

At this point, you’re determined to win, so close to victory and desperate to prove that you can. You tossed yours at the same time as Shoko, the balls bouncing off each other and by some strange miracle, landing squarely into the two cups as a cheer came from the surrounding crowd.

“Holy shit you can’t recreate that,” Haibara is grinning, shaking your shoulder as Suguru and Satoru each take a drink in defeat.

You and Shoko have two cups, but it’s down to one on their side. All they have to do is sink their shots and the game is theirs. Satoru was lining up, his expression gleeful as he tossed the ball and it landed perfectly, water splashing up from the cup with a soft splash as Shoko groaned next to you. Suguru hesitated, his eyes flickering between you and the cup and in almost teasing manor. It brings a grin across your face as your eyebrows raise, daring him to take the shot as he acknowledges your challenge. His eyes were alight with mischief as he took the shot, missing almost comically as he shrugged his shoulders, Satoru’s mouth dropping open as he grabbed a hold of his shoulders, shaking him.

“You threw! You threw it, I can’t believe you-”

In the chaos, Shoko snapped up the final ball, sinking into their remaining cup with ease as people cheered around you. Shoko was staring at Suguru, her eyebrows raised in question as he shrugged Satoru off, slowly moving around the table to face you. As the adrenaline of the game wears off, you become aware of yourself once more, flustered beneath his stare as you grip the empty bottle in your hand a little tighter.

“Good game,” He says, his voice husky and inviting as he nods his head towards the stairwell, “can I get you another one?”

He was pointing towards the empty bottle, the invitation clear as you shuffle awkwardly on your feet.

“I think I’m gonna head back,” Shoko announced, cutting the tension herself as she returned to your side. “You coming?”

It was getting late, and you were already cursing yourself for signing up for a 9 AM class as you nodded in agreement. Part of you did want to stay and see where the night went, but there was also a part of you that felt the lingering current of unease surrounding Suguru. Handsome as he was, he was a stranger to you, and Shoko’s words were already echoing in your ear. Sure, you barely knew her, but you would always be more likely to take a woman’s warning when it was offered to you.

“I should go,” You offered, “but it was nice meeting you.”

Suguru’s eyes warmed as he nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as Satoru wandered off once more into the crowd.

“Your name?” He asked, extending one large hand towards you. “(Y/N),” You replied, taking his hand as he wrapped his fingers around, warmth spreading across your palms as he shook it gently.

It almost makes you want to laugh, the formal nature of a handshake, but you’re almost too scared to accept anything else from him.

It’s become painfully apparent that you’re not the best with men in general - partially as a result of your own awkwardness and isolation, but also because of the obvious. You didn’t trust the majority of them, and certainly not ones like Suguru. It was a bad idea, definitely, to intrench yourself any further into his world.

“I’ll see you around,” He says, before disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, you’re disappointed, but that’s the kicker with men like him. Always more fun to be around, but infinitely harder in the long run. He was about as far from your usual type as you could get, but so was the entire scene.

Shoko doesn’t wait for you as she begun her way up the stairs, leaving you to follow like a lost kitten as you head back out into the night. The moon has sunk lower, and a glance at your phone says 2:13 in the morning. It was already late when you decided to head out, but it was also hard to believe that you’d spent nearly an hour inside.

The walk to your dorm is short, the pathways illuminated as Shoko lit another cigarette, the smoke pluming over her head. You debate asking her for more information on Suguru, but decide against it in fear of seeming too forward. Besides, you aren’t willing to risk the fragile friendship you’ve formed with her by making her think you’re only interested in him.

“Just ask,” She said, as if sensing your thoughts as she casts a glance over her shoulder at you. “What do you mean by a hill I don’t wanna climb?”

Shoko sighed, slowing her pace to walk in tandem beside you as she pondered the right words to say. It’s not that she distrusts her own friend, or that he’s a bad person, but sometimes Suguru is well… Suguru.

“He’s like Satoru,” She said finally, “a lot to handle sometimes. He’s not really the relationship type, but he is a good friend when you need him to be.”

It was obvious already, but it still does little to stifle the slight disappointment. Were you even looking for a relationship? The question rattled around inside your mind incessantly. Sure, while you weren’t entirely opposed to a casual hookup, but you were also aware that it was a remarkably easy way to gain feelings when you didn’t want to. Furthermore, you couldn’t quite imagine trusting someone like that without knowing them incredibly well.

You decided to drop it as you entered the dorm hall. It would be easy enough to keep your distance, you figured. In your three years on campus you’d never encountered him directly before tonight. Shoko stopped in front of her door, turning to wave once more.

“G’night,” She murmured, “good luck with your classes.”

“Good luck,” You echo her sentiment, watching her retreat into her room as the door shuts with a soft click.

Inside your room the lights are dimmed with only the soft glow of a string of fairy lights that are strung up on the wall. You sprung for solo living this year, having tried your luck with various roommates over the years to no avail. The few you did have were characters in and of themselves, and so it was a great relief to have won a bid for the only solo hall on campus.

It had gotten too expensive to consider a place off campus, at least not without procuring a job. You’d barely managed the workload in the last semester without crashing out, so adding onto it was off the table. There were still a few unpacked boxes pressed to the walls, their contents spilling out onto the floor as you toed around them, slipping off your dress in favor of a pair of pajamas.

You felt a vague sense of accomplishment, proud of yourself for going out despite the internal desire not too. It would have been too easy not to, excuse yourself in favor of unpacking and finishing any last minute pre-semester requirements. Though anything you needed to do had already been done, no one else had to know that. Hell, no one else on campus knew you - besides the small group of acquaintances you’d gathered on happenstance.

That was the one benefit of being reclusive, it made it so much easier to go unnoticed, maintaining your anonymity and thus, your peace. Maybe it could be a good thing, though, to venture outside of your comfort zone. You’d already decided that this would be the year of bolder choices, and as you climbed into bed, you felt more confident in that decision.

Shit.

Any satisfaction you’d had last night from stepping out was almost immediately replaced with urgency as you woke up to read the time - 8:56 AM. You’d stumbled out of your dorm in a rush, having thrown on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before running out the door. It was a sprint across campus, and by the time you’d stumbled into the building at 9:01, you were embarrassingly out of breath and panting in the doorway as all your classmates looked at you with both pity and amusement.

You scanned the room for an empty desk, trying hard not to meet the eyes of your classmates as you skittered into the room. The professor paid you no mind, typing away at his computer as he began setting up a slideshow.

Double shit.

There was one desk left in the entire classroom - and it just so happened to be the one next to the same beautiful long haired stranger from last night. Suguru.

#jjk #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk suguru #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto/reader #suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk/reader #suguru geto smut

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