#MY JOB IS TO TEND TO IT AND MAKE YOU SEE MY VISION

[apricitae-world]

STAY WITH ME

M!Zayne and F!Reader. "Fluffy Treatment" inspired.

THIS POST CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT: making out, boob sucking, slight foot fetish, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

All characters are consenting adults. Proceed carefully and do not attempt to recreate these situations in real life.

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The day had took a - terrible - unexpected turn. A Wanderer appeared in a No Hunt Zone and the lack of personnel because of the seasonal flu had made it terribly difficult. All units that would otherwise be in their day off had to report for duty.

Zayne was also struggling with work. There was only a simple(r) surgery scheduled for the day, but Akso Hospital was brimming with citizens of all ages trying to get something akin to coughing syrup and fever meds.

You arrive home after sundown, tend to minor wounds and cook a very lazy dinner for two. The board of Kitty Cards you had promised to play on that day lay discarded in the living room table. The soft sound of yawning Evol kittens was your only company in the apartment.

A little over an hour later you hear the shifting sound of keys. The door opened and your doctor seemed worse for wear. Slight eyebags formed under his eyes, oily bangs dangled in his forehead and there were slight stains in his white coat.

"Hello, love. How was work today?" He gives a sad smile. Not a talking day, then. Zayne leaves his briefcase in your shared bedroom and comes back in a more comfortable attire. He heats up the food in silence, finishes his nightly routine and slams right to bed.

"I'm sorry we coudn't play Kitty Cards today. I haven't forgotten." He mumbles when you join him under the covers. "I also had a rough day at work. These things happen." He comes closer for a snuggle. "We can always do it tomorrow."

"I love you." Is the last thing you hear before drifting to sleep.

You wake with the first rays of sunshine. Your boyfriend, always the morning person, has already gotten up. It was time for his morning job, altough you could hear a sizzling sound coming from the kitchen.

"What is the special occasion?" You inquire as Zayne is terribly focused in putting a perfect pancake in your plate. There is a cup of tea across the table for him, and a generous mug of coffee on your side. Whipped cream, syrup and strawberries are scattered across the table as you decorate your breakfast. "Thank you for cooking dinner last night. I'm not sure, just wanted to make something this morning."

His face is positively glowing. That night's sleep must have made wonders for him. The eyebags are way less proeminent, he totally took a shower since his hair is silky smooth and the beautiful cat ears move to the morning sun.

Wait, what?

You stop your fork midway. Zayne, your lovely surgeon, is sporting cat ears as he walks across the table. When he turns around to flip the last pancake, you see a tail from the same shade of the ears move as if it was real.

"MY LOVE??" You ask, exasperated. With all precision in the world, another pancake is put before you. "Yes, darling?" How could you possibly tell him and not look like a lunatic?

"You have cat ears. And a tail." Zayne just quirks his eyebrows and sits down. "Is that so?" A mountain of whipped cream - one his dentist would complain about, no doubt - blocks your vision. "Why do I have cat features, my love?"

That was surely a mystery. You stand in silence while he devours his pancakes, completely oblivious to the movements of his own body. After your meal was finished in (un)comfortable silence, all the dishes were put in the sink and Zayne was looking for alone time to finish some reports.

"Oh God you were being serious?!" You hear a shout coming from his study table. This is the first time Zayne touches his new appendages since they appeared, looking bewildered. "I imagined this was another one of your pranks. How could this happen?" Initial shock gave way to interest. You come closer.

You run your hands to were his head meets the base of his ears. It was like any other part of his body. After that, you check his tail and find the meeting point. His back is turned to you, but you feel his body heat and mild shifting.

"Everything okay in there, babe?" He doesn't respond. You look at his face and there is a perceptible flush all over his cheeks and human ears. "Can you feel this?"

"I-I think it's better if I go back to work." And steps away. "I'm sure it's nothing dangerous and I will be back to normal soon, love. No reason to worry." With no further comments, he turns around and leaves the room.

Everytime you tried talking to him about it, he would blush profusely and diffuse your comments. He even called the hospital to say he was feeling terribly ill and coudn't come to work that day. His health was pristine, even with the feline feaures.

"I know there is something bothering you, Zayne." He looks at you like a child being scolded. After you began using pet names in the relationship, real names were signal to trouble. "Why don't you want to talk about it? Does it hurt?"

"No!" He shakes his head. "It's just... a lot is happening... and I don't know how to deal with it." "So you would rather bear it all alone with your reports? I am right here if you need me and you know you should ask for help with things that are bothering you."

His eyes soften and you can swear you see his breathing become more stable. Even then, he doesn't come closer to you. You leave the room and the confused doctor behind.

Around then minutes later, the door opens and a tall figure approaches you. Zayne firmly sits you on the couch and lays on top of you like a weighted blanket. "Can we cuddle?" You shift to a more comfortable position and begin petting his ears. The creeping blush returns and you hear his purr.

"Keep going." He request, and you move to pet his back. His breathing becomes labored and you notice him arching his back to meet your touch. When you touch his tail, he moans quietly.

You stop in shock. Your beloved doctor had trouble to voice his needs, so this was a nice change of pace. You decide to use both your hands to elicit more reactions from him. Not long after, you feel him grinding against your thigh.

"Do you want to take off your pants, my love?" He looks up at you. His eyes are glossy and his face is terribly red. "I want to take off your pants." He concludes.

You both shift in the couch to put your plans in motion. It was quite difficult when Zayne was hugging you so tightly, but it would make do. With a little bit of effort, both of you were undressed.

He slides down and puts his nose right above your clit. Kitten licks and small bites were distributed all around the area before he decided to dive in. Zayne moved up and down, alternating between your slick and the bundle of nerves above.

Moisture dripped down onto the couch, but you coudn't find it in you to care. Your boyfriend speeds up, and you know you won't last long under his ministrations. "Ah, ah, we're m-making a mess." You manage to say.

"Good." You feel his hot breath. "I want you to make a mess. Please make a mess on me." He goes back to work with renewed vigor. Waves of pleasure pool in your stomach and you know you're close.

"Z-Zayne, I'm gonna cum." That seemed like more of an incentive to him than anything else. You feel his tongue draw patterns on your flesh before setting on an onslaught of your bud. Using the little of what was left of your brain, you can distinguish a "Z" and then an "A". He was writing his name on your clit.

Your orgasm hits suddently. He helps you ride it, groaning in satisfaction as you grind your pussy against his face. After a few waves, the feeling diminished and gives way to overstimulation. "A break, please." Your voice is hoarse but Zayne doesn't look any better, his cat ears twitching and face full of your release.

Pearly-white beads of precum slide down his cock and the tip is red and swollen. You both look at it at the same time and then make eye contact. "Let me help you." You say.

He pretty much pounced at you, protecting your head from hitting the couch as he forcefully pushed you down. His lips are into yours in a second, and the gasps he makes are music to your ears. "Is this why you have been avoiding me this morning?" It takes a while for him to reply. "I want to be close to you. I want to love you and protect you every waking moment and hope to dream of you at night."

He uses a finger to prepare you for the stretch. You use your own hand to smear precum against his slick. He hisses. "But ever since this morning I... It's not enough." He adds a second one and begins a scissoring motion. You moan at the feeling. "I want to bite and lick and - I even thought about bringing you a dead bird this morning."

Zayne looks away in something dangerously close to shame. His tail is a black blur behind him. "I didn't want you to see me so needy. You also have things to do and I shoudn't be like this." He positions himself at your entrance.

"We don't know what happened to you yet." Your train of thought threatens to be interrupted once his tip begins teasing you. "It's okay to be needy sometimes, and it does make sense you would be feeling more catlike today." You wink and he gives a soft laugh. Such a lovely sound.

The stretch is not so bad as the first time. You both make sure the experience is less painful as possible. "Wh-what about the other things?" Your mind returns to his earlier comments. The licks and the love bittes he is holding himself not to do.

You bite his shoulder and he screams. You can feel is dick twitch inside your walls. He almost cums from the feeling. "I bite you and you bite me. Deal?" That sounds good for him, since in the next moment he is lowering his head and sucking your boobs.

There are bites scattered from your neck to the inside of your thigs, his hips moving the entire time. Your second orgasm is alredy approaching, and the way Zayne teases your breasts is clearly not helping.

He snuggles closer to you, almost as if he is trying to merge both your bodies together. He whimpers with the new angle. "I'm close. Wanna come inside." You enthusiastically agree. Always the safe sex preacher, it feels good to do it without a condom for once.

"Oh you feel so good please wanna feel you cum too." He starts blabbering and moves to play with your clit. You begin meeting his thrust halfway, and soon both of you are moaning each other's names. Your "Za-Zayne"s is everything he needs to release everything inside.

That feeling combined with him deftly playing with your bud makes you reach your peak too. "Thank you thank you I love you" Is what you can distinguish from his chants. A kiss is all you can give to tell him you love him too.

After the aftershocks of the orgasm have passed, the stickiness of the sofa and the sweat clinging to your body were starting to make you uncomfortable. "Wanna take a shower?" He was still nugding you. "I don't want to let you go."

"What if we take a shower and then cuddle in bed? We can deal with the destruction of the couch later." He stretches lazily, ears moving all the way down and then returning back up, his tail making similar movements. He nods and both of you dissapear behind the bathroom door.

Grayson was ready to check out, and Yvone's shift would end in about an hour. The movement of the hospital was finally starting to die down. "It's such a shame Dr. Zayne caught the flu." She commented.

"Truly. I can't imagine how he must be feeling, alone at home and sick." They both give an understanding look at each other and return to their tasks.

Maybe things aren't so bad as they seem.

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 | 𝑫𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝑷.𝑶.𝑽 | 𝑷𝒕. 𝟐 (𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍)

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐷𝑎𝑤𝑛𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐷𝑟. 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑑. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑠: 𝐷𝑎𝑤𝑛𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟, 𝐷𝑟. 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒, 𝑀𝐶 , 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚, 𝐷𝑎𝑤𝑛𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟.

𝐴𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡: 小型发光

𝐸𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑟: @cordidy

“She’s mine.”  His green eyes stare at me coldly in the reflection.  

His words are like daggers in my heart.  Tearing my soul apart with each syllable. 

“Bastard.” I scowl as my eyes open to the faded grey ceiling. 

How dare he judge me? 

He knows nothing…

He calls me a monster 

A nightmare 

But if he only knew the real nightmare 

Imagine watching the love of your life in someone else’s arms. 

Her soft little eyes looking at him, all while you are just a spectator in his mind, unable to reach out and touch her. 

To see her kiss you but unable to taste her lips or feel her lips. 

To hear her moans calling out your name in a passion … but you’re not the Zayne she is calling out too. 

That's the real nightmare Dr. Zayne. 

Watching her be in your arms. 

As I sit at the edge of the bed, the cold breeze of midnight does nothing to me. I’m always in a constant state of numbness. Making my way to the living room I tend to the jasmine flower. Stroking its soft petals as I feed it some water. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll be back tonight you'll see.” I whisper softly.

Throwing on my black suite, I head out into the dreadful city, to do my job. Before leaving I look at the jasmine one more time, smiling softly, as I picture her standing in that spot, waving me goodbye. 

“Abomination, you must die.” I pant as I chase the monster before me to the corner. Using my evol, two big ice shards rise up from the ground and with a swift motion of my hand the ice shards pierce the abomination in the heart. It lets out a howl before disappearing into nothing. 

Maybe I am a monster

I sigh in relief as the monster dies, but pain shoots up my arm causing me to drop on a knee. My vision starts to blur, my heartbeat racing. I feel myself fading to the darkness. Placing my back against the wall I let myself go, passing out in the dark alleyway. 

“Zayne… Zayne wake up.”

 Her voice calls me in the distance. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the brightness. 

I’m in his room.. I’m in his bed.. I’m in his head 

Usually when I’m in his mind, he's able to kick me out. I’m never able to speak or gain control but this….this is different. 

I can feel the bedsheets, I can smell the sweet scent of vanilla that comes off from her. 

The light illuminates her softly, giving her a glow that shines brighter than angels. She has a small smile on her face, my hand reaches out to touch her. 

Just this once. 

As I cup heer check gently I’m afraid I’ll break her if I apply any pressure. 

She takes my hand, embracing it before nuzzling her face into my palm. 

“Hello again.” She whispers. 

I freeze. 

Feeling my heart about to burst out of my chest I try to move away, but she holds on. Not letting me go. 

“It’s okay.” She reassures me. “Don’t be afraid.” 

Looking at her again, my eyes try to hold back tears, but with no avail they let loose and stain the pillow. 

“Am I dreaming?” I mumble. 

“In a way. I asked Zayne to let you in. I wanted to talk to you.” Her eyes are big and shining bright. She is so beautiful. 

“I want to know … what are these things you hunt?” She lets go of my hand and scoots closer to me laying on my arm. I hold her as If I have always held in my dreams. I wrap my arms around her tightly covering us with the bankets. 

“They are people who suffer from protocore syndrome. They turn into wanderers.” My heart skins, knowing that she suffers from the same condition. I hold her even more tightly. 

“Zayne.” She whispers. 

“Yes.” I choke. 

“If it ever comes to that point, I need you to take over and -” She doesn't end her sentence growing quiet before she can say the last word. But we know…we both know what she is asking me to do. She is asking me to end her life… 

“Why do you ask that?” My tears are even heavier than before. 

“Because I know Zayne won’t … he can't. He took an oath and I can never let him go back on that vow.” She whispers again, making little circles on my chest.  

She’s right… he doesn't have the strength to do what needs to be done. 

His hands are used to save lives, while mine are used to take them. 

He is the savior while I’m the executioner. 

“I promise It won’t ever come to that. He’s gonna find a way to save you. I promise….” I place a small kiss on her head wondering who I'm trying to reassure truly. 

I take in her smell, so when this dream ends I can always remember it. 

As she gets up and hovers over me I study her face letting her wipe the tears off my cheeks. 

“No matter what happens. I love you Zayne. You are him, just as much as he is you.”

Let me kiss you just this once.. Please. 

She blushes softly, and as if she was reading my thoughts she places her lips against mine. 

Our lips move in sync, slowly, tenderly. The taste of her cherry chapstick lingering on my tongue.  

I take this moment and store it deeply within me. I never knew how much I needed her lips, how much joy and passion one person can bring into a lonely life. She is amazing. 

Yes she is yours Zayne, she will always be yours. But I love her just as much as you do. 

I feel myself start to drift back into my reality. I look at her one last time before my eyes open to the dark alleyway. 

I touch my lips, still tasting the cherry chapstick. 

Getting up, I make my way home, feeling alive for the first time. 

Once I’m home, I smile at the jasmine and head to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror I stare at my reflection, gazing into my eyes, trying to reach him. 

“I’m sorry you are cursed with me. I’m sorry, I’m your nightmare. But thank you for keeping her safe. Thank you.. For being my beautiful dream.” 

Millions of thank yous if you came this far ♡

Ive been working very hard to give y’all some content. Please let me know if there is something that y’all would like to read. My DMs are open!

Currently working on an Xavier Spicy fic to change it up a bit. <(￣︶￣)>

Have a Happy Holidays .. muuaaah ♡

~𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇~

[just-null]

ur art is so good i might just get back into my noritoshi phase omg

everyone should have a Noritoshi phase at least once. im here to provide and bring everyone back in it. i love that fucking idiot sm it makes me so stupid

noritoshi is so that bitch who you hug and his hands hover over you. he'll stay like that if you don't physically move his hands to wherever you want them. Afterward, he'll hold onto the fabric of your clothes like a lifeline.

this guy's hugs would be so stiff esp w you. BUT ITS LIKE. if you give him enough time he'll ever so slowly melt into it. though if you hug back too quick. hes out and pushing you back if hes not out like a light. thats too much holy fuck. hugs over. go home. <- he says while yelling at himself internally to take it all back. hes so fucking lamemsmsm

and tysm!! ive read some of your work too and i love it!!

[totally normal under the cut. dont look.]

OH YM FUCKNIG GOD, I KNOW YOU AND THE SHIT YOU WRITE IS SO FUCKING GOOD TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT...

GOD I WANT TO BE COOL AND COMPOSED FOR MY CULT MEMBERS BUT HOLY SHIT YOUR MR. LOVERMAN DRABBLE GOT ME FUCKED UP. YOU CAN TELL WHO I WAS THINKING ABT WHILE READING IT, AND OH MY FUCK YOU HAD A NORITOSHI PHASE???? FAM I'LL COLLAPSE AND DIE <- DERANGED.

YOUR YAN POET, NERD, AND LOSER HEADCANONS HAD ME IN A HEADLOCK FOR WEEKS. PUNCHES MYSELF, GOD I LOVE YOUR STUFF 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️ TYSM FOR THE CONTENT....

[flippinpancakes64]

Hello! I love your stuff and I wanted to request their response to:

Reader: Let me take care of you.

Them: It's rotten work...

Reader: Not to me...not if it's you.

Keep writing! You're amazing! (And I need something to read while I stay up)

Taking care of the Cullens

Ok ngl this ask has me giggling and kicking my feet

Jasper let me take care of you 😡😭❤️

Uhm and remember in my request rules thing where I said I don’t do narratives… i might be a big fat liar cause that’s what I did here… don’t come for me

And thank you so much for the kind words! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know he has a bit of a complex when it comes to his worth and his humanity

He tends to get in his own head a lot

Especially when it comes to you and your relationship

He doesn’t really get jealous in the normal sense

He just sort of gets sad when he sees you with other people

It’s one day after school and Edward seems to be avoiding you. You’re sitting at the table with Emmett, Alice, Esme, and Jasper playing a card game.

Only Edward is nowhere to be found.

The game finishes, Alice winning and Emmett immediately going into ranting mode about how it’s rigged. You excuse yourself to go check on him.

You find him upstairs in the piano room, plunking away on the keys mindlessly. If he wasn’t a vampire and you didn’t know better, you would say he didn’t even notice you enter the room.

You stood behind him for a while, watching as his fingers danced over the ivory keys.

“It sounds beautiful” you say.

He doesn’t respond.

“Edward, what’s the matter? You’ve hardly spoken to me all day.”

“Do you ever wish I was human?”

The question catches you off guard.

“To wish for you to be human would be to change you, and I happen to love you just the way you are.”

He huffs, his fingers halting.

“But don’t you wish I was warm? Don’t you wish I could eat the foods you like, actually sleep next to you at night, grow old with you?”

You sit down next to him at the stool and take his hands in your own.

“What were you like when you were human?”

The change of subject seems to catch him off guard, his face twists slightly as he thinks. He pauses for a beat before answering.

“I was a bit of a troublemaker. My mom always said I was giving her grey hairs way too early. I didn’t do any of my schoolwork, I just wanted to go and be free.”

“Hm, sounds like the you that could sleep, eat, and grow old was a bit of a wild card. Not really my type. You know I prefer the sophisticated, musical type.”

He laughs at that, hanging his head down to press a kiss to your joined hands.

“So what you’re saying is you like the version of me without a soul better,” he says bitterly. You frown at that.

“No, I’m saying I like the you that I have now. I love you, Edward. I would never trade you for anyone else in the world whether they have a pulse or not.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“You know this is how it will always be, right? I’ll always be here, trying some new way to push you away from me. To make you realize that you deserve better.”

“And I’ll always be here to take care of you and make sure you know that my mind will never change.”

“Taking care of me for the rest of your life… talk about the worst job you could get.”

“Only it won’t be a job. Not for me. Not when it’s for you.”

He looks at you then, finally. His big, black eyes staring into yours.

You’ve wished it before, but in this moment you wish you were the one who could read his mind instead of the other way around.

“You’re so stupid,” he smiles, and leans in for a kiss.

Maybe one day he’ll fully believe you.

Alice:

Alice has a tendency to shut down whenever there’s too much going on

Too many people are on the cusp of making decisions that could change their lives

It seems that every person she meets on the street has a vision attached

She can’t take it anymore

You find her curled up in a ball in her room, the TV playing a program you don’t think she’s watching.

Around her are scattered sketchbook pages, each one hastily ripped from the pad and thrown to the floor.

On these pages are drawings of buildings, people, animals, and tragedies. You catch the face of a woman who’s screaming as a bullet heads straight for her face. In another is an open room with a small grenade in the center.

No wonder she’s been so upset.

None of the pages show joy, every single one a warning of a disaster that’s just waiting to happen.

In front of her, there’s a stack of drawings that she’s flipping through. On one of them you catch what looks like your face, only it’s contorted in a scream. In another you see Jasper, but you can’t make out what’s around him.

“Alice,” you call out, and her head whips up. Maybe she hadn’t heard you like you thought she did. “What’s wrong?”

She looks at you like a deer in headlights for a moment, before her eyes glance back down to the papers in front of her.

“There’s nothing wrong. Not yet, at least.”

Her tone is grave. You can hear the desperation for an answer, or at least a break.

You sigh, and move to sit next to her. You reach to take the stack of papers from her, meeting no resistance. If she wanted to keep them from you, she could. But she knew now that fighting you was always going to be useless.

“Alice, I know you can’t control the fact that you see these visions. But you can control how much you obsess over them. This isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t need to be healthy. I can’t die or get sick.”

You sigh again. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You can’t keep withering away in here obsessing over what might happen.”

“But-“

“No buts.” You say, throwing the stack of papers to the side. “How long ago did you have these visions?”

She thinks for a moment.

“Yesterday, I think.”

“Alright. Have they happened yet?”

“Well, no…”

“From what you saw, are they still a possibility now?”

“…they are… a very low possibility…”

You could see her reluctantly piecing together your words, clearly not wanting to admit her mistake out loud.

“Look, Alice, you know that I’m always touched by you looking out for me, but in moments like this I need to look out for you too.”

She looks into your eyes, then hangs her head again.

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be. My gift, I should be the one taking care of you-“

“No. There is no ‘supposed to’ anything. Humans aren’t ‘supposed to’ be with vampires and yet here we are. So please just come with me and watch a movie or cuddle or something?”

She looks at you again, then. Staring into your eyes, then glancing around her room, at all of the papers, then back to you. She smiles slightly and floats up to her feet.

“Fine. But I’m picking the movie.”

Jasper:

This is a man who needs some serious love and reassurance

He’s always on edge around you, even if he plays it off like he isn’t

He’s just always so scared of hurting you or doing something wrong

And a lot of the time that manifests as him isolating himself to try and get you to leave him

It was gonna be one of those nights again.

A night that you would spend alone in the bed you were supposed to be sharing with the love of your life, Jasper.

But no. On a night like this, he’s out in the woods, far, far away. Stewing in his feelings and brooding.

You don’t even remember anything happening this time. Sometimes something can set him off; a jab from someone at school, a hug he gave you that ended up being WAY too tight, anything really. Anything that reminds him of how he’s not supposed to be with you.

But right about now, you’re sick of it.

The Cullens have taken to being quieter at night since you’ve started sleeping over a lot more, but you know they’re all here- all except for the one you want.

So it being 2 am won’t bother any of the other residents of the house. You roll out of bed and march your way over to the door, throwing it open (politely) and stomping down the steps.

Emmett is the first one you see, and you decide he’ll be perfect for the job anyway.

“What’s got you going, firecracker?” He asks.

“I need you to go find Jasper and bring him to me. Now. I need to talk to him,” you couldn’t help the anger and frustration that seeped into your voice. Lack of sleep will do that to you.

Emmett stood up straight and gave a stupid salute, “One loner coming right up, boss.”

And with that he was out of the door, and you trudged back upstairs to wait for your boyfriend.

You were laying in the bed, still trying desperately to go to sleep when you heard a light knock on the door. Your eyes flicked open to see Jasper standing in the doorway, looking completely out of place and uncomfortable.

All of your anger left instantly, all you saw was the sweet man who was far too worried for his own good.

You sighed and scooted over, patting the spot next to you.

“Come here, Jasper.”

A look of what could only be described as fear flashed across his face before he shook his head and muttered a small, “i can’t.”

You sighed again and stood up, making your way over to him. When you reached him, you stretched your arms out to take his face in your hands, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“Look, Jas, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have a pretty damn good idea. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” he says, looking into your eyes, something about the black made him look more human, more scared. “Vampires are already dangerous, but I’m the worst of the worst. You’ve found yourself a faulty cannon amongst rifles, darling.”

You frowned at his analogy, squeezing his perfect face in your hands.

“You are NOT faulty, you hear me? You are perfect. Perfect for me, at least.”

“The perfect man for you wouldn’t be tearing himself up inside trying not to kill you.”

“And a lesser man would have already done it.” He was shocked at that, stunned into silence. He hung his head slightly, not meeting your eyes once more.

“And what if I do hurt you one day? Would you ever forgive me? Could I ever forgive myself?”

“I don’t think you will. But if you do, Carlisle will put me back together and I’ll jump right back into your arms.”

His eyes bore into your soul as he stared at you like you were crazy.

“Why the hell would you do that? Come running right back to me?”

“To make sure you don’t hate yourself for too long. Now come on, I’m tired and I can’t sleep without my personal AC unit.”

He looked at you with disbelief. You knew he didn’t believe you, you don’t know if he ever will.

But that’s okay. You’ll keep him right here, and pull him back to you every time he runs away.

Eventually, he’ll understand that you love him.

Rosalie:

The topic of kids has always been a very touchy one for Rosalie

It’s all she’s ever wanted, and all that she still wants

Most days, the pain is not too much of an issue

But some days, it just gets to be too much

You and Rosalie were walking down the street, hand in hand as you strolled by the different shops and food stands.

The city was busy today, many young couples out and about, shopping, talking, kissing far too passionately to be in public, the usual.

“Rose, do you mind if we sit down for a bit? These shoes Alice chose for me look really nice, but they are so uncomfortable.”

She giggled, but nodded and led you both to a bench. You sat down with a heavy sigh, finally getting off of your feet after what felt like forever (even though it was only about an hour).

Across the way in the little park you’ve both found yourself in, a young couple is sitting on a bench.

The woman has long, flowing, blonde hair that frames her face in loose curls. She’s wearing a gorgeous floral-patterned dress, and on her left hand is quite possibly the biggest, gaudiest ring you have ever seen.

To her right, a man sits, one who bears a striking resemblance to you, regardless of gender.

And in the middle, a little baby. A perfect mix of the two, her hair and his eyes, her nose and his jawline, all swaddled in a cute little onesie.

You’re about to turn to Rosalie to point out the cute baby (she always loves to look and maybe go touch it if the parents allow her to) when you see that she’s already looking.

Her face is grave, like she’s looking at her own headstone. Her face is twisted in grief, and she looks on the verge of tears.

It takes you a second to connect the dots, but once you do, your heart clenches for her.

That woman looks like her, reminds Rosalie of herself. And the man looks like you. And that baby is what she wants, all she’s ever wanted. What she can’t have.

Babies are always hard for her, but this struck a deep chord.

“Rose… do you wanna go home?” You ask softly, not wanting to come off as pushy.

“…”

“Come on, let’s go,” you grab her arm to pull her up, she goes with you, but keeps her head craned back to the young couple the whole time.

Once you’re far away, she breaks down. You’ve never seen a vampire cry, and that’s probably because they can’t. But if they could, Rosalie would be sobbing.

You know it’s bad because she doesn’t even care that she falls to the floor in this dirty, nasty alleyway. Normal Rosalie would rather die 100 times over than get her clothes dirty, especially here.

You sit down next to her, letting her dry heave and gasp into your shoulder, her wails breaking your heart.

You’re helpless here. Cause what can you really do? You can’t give her a kid, she can’t give you one either. You can’t go back in time and stop her from being killed. And you can’t go back and steal that baby from that couple (even though you kind of really want to).

So you just hold her.

You run her hair, pat her back, kiss her head, and whisper into her ear. How much you love her, how she’s perfect, how it’s okay, how you don’t think less of her.

Once she’s calmed down and her breathing has slowed, she looks up at you.

“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be seeing this side of me.”

“What? I want to be here for you, Rose. I know I can’t fix this for you, but at least I can-“

“Fix it? Darling, don’t worry about fixing me. I’m already completely broken, there’s nothing to fix.”

With that you just take a moment to look at her. Her face screams that she is broken. In her soul, at least. Her and Edward are a lot more similar than they like to think.

“Rosalie. You are not broken. There is nothing wrong with you.”

She scoffs at that. “I’m not human. I’d say that’s pretty wrong. Not to mention the fact that I can’t even look at a couple with a baby and not want to violently kill someone.”

“And that’s okay.”

She scoffs again.

“No, really, Rose. I mean it. I’m never ever going to think less of you for something like this. You went through something I can never even imagine and now you’re left to pick up the pieces. Just let me help you.”

She looks at you, her eyes staring into yours. The grief that she’s feeling is evident. But deep in her eyes, you see a touch of something else. Trust, maybe.

“You know, you’re gonna be picking up pieces for the rest of your life.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. Not if it’s you.”

Emmett:

He likes to pretend to be all big and bad all of the time

But in reality, he's still a person

He just has a hard time remembering that sometimes

You don't know where he got all of that energy from.

I mean, realistically, you know that he can never get tired.

But really, even for a vampire this was unnatural.

Some nobody in school had challenged him to an arm wrestle. Of course, he can never resist. He grabbed the guy's hand and prepared to pummel him, only to flinch and have his hand thrown down against the wood of the desk.

The guy had one of those fake shock things in his hand, and as soon as Emmett clamped down it vibrated like crazy.

To say he was pissed would be an understatement.

And now he was taking all of that anger out on the trees around the Cullen house.

"That-" punch "fucking-" punch "ASSHOLE!" punch punch punch

It had been days. And you were honestly getting worried. He hadn't hunted in those days, much less came inside the house. You're surprised the park ranger hasn't come knocking yet.

You heard a hollowed cracking sound and looked to see Emmett standing triumphantly as a rather large oak tree fell to the ground, followed by a guttural roar from the man.

"Emmett," you called, barely above a whisper. But you know he heard you. "Come over here please."

He looks at you with a slightly guilty look, the anger from before fading away as he hangs his head and trudges over to you. He stops just a few feet in front of you, lamely kicking the rocks beneath his toes as he avoids your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s that stupid fucking guy-“

“No,” you stop him, putting your hand up to silence him. “What’s actually wrong? Don’t tell me you’re seriously this pissed about losing an arm wrestling match with some nobody.”

He just stood there in silence for a second. You took this chance to stand up and grab his face in your hands, instantly he leaned in, perching his head on your palms.

“I just… need to be strong. That’s what I am, I need to be strong,” he whispered, his voice coming out shy and meek.

You just smiled at him sadly and rubbed his cheek.

“I can be strong too you know. So every once in a while you can let me take care of you instead.”

He laughed at that.

“You, strong? As if. I could fold you in half!”

You punched him lightly in the arm.

“You jerk! I’m trying to be sentimental!”

He laughed again and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to their previous spot cradling his face.

“Ok ok, serious sentimental time.”

You just laughed and kissed him.

Esme:

She has a bad habit of overreacting

Just a dash of anxiety

So when something-anything happens to you, she freaks out

This is bad.

Like really, really bad.

You were supposed to be driving to go see Esme at the Cullen house, but of course your piece-of-shit car decided that now would be a perfect time to break down.

Too far away from home to walk back, too far away from the Cullens to walk there, and the nearest anything was also too far.

Not to mention the snow covering the ground didn’t really entice you to get out of your still-warm car.

So you tried calling someone to come get you.

Only, of course there’s no service out here because why would there be.

Just your luck.

You weigh your options, and decide that walking is just gonna have to do.

You didn’t pack a winter coat because you didn’t think you’d be outside for this long, but you had a blanket stored in your backseat and it was better than nothing.

So off you trekked through the freezing cold winter storm to the Cullen house.

Inside, Esme was (in)patiently waiting.

Your favorite meal was waiting for you, already plated and getting colder by the second on the dining room table.

You said you were on your way 30 minutes ago. It takes about 30 minutes to get from your house to their house.

So where were you?

Her ears perked at the sound of a slowly beating heart coming from down the driveway.

It didn’t sound like one of the foxes or deer that roam around this time of year. No, it sounded a bit bigger, a bit more human.

She was out the door in a flash. Before anyone had the chance to ask what she was doing she was by your side.

“Oh my god, honey, why are you out here?!”

“An angel…” and then you collapsed.

Cue Esme absolutely freaking the fuck out.

She has you in front of a lit fireplace, a heating blanket rested over your shoulders and a warm towel on your head.

She’s pacing back and forth in front of you. She wants to hold you so bad, to kiss you, cuddle you, protect you. But she can’t. She’ll just make the shivers wracking your body even worse.

“Es…” you croak, your eyes blinking open finally.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Why were you out there? Where’s your car? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Shhhh,” you whisper, bringing your finger up to shush her. “Just come here.”

You open up your blanket in an invitation to her.

“Are you out of your mind? I can’t cuddle with you right now, I’ll freeze you!”

“Please, you deserve to be taken care of too.”

She crumbles at that, you can see the resolve leaving her face. And then she figures that you won’t get too cold with the heated blanket and everything.

She cuddles up next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and ducking her head into your neck.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there. And least of all I shouldn’t be such a mess right now.”

“It’s okay to be a mess, I’ll always be here to hold you.”

Carlisle:

No one really talks about the stress of being a pretend father for a bunch of eternal teenagers

Really, it’s a blessing that he doesn’t need sleep and isn’t affected by long hours

But despite that, he still gets so worn out

Today had been a long day for Carlisle.

It was student-teacher conference day. And while that’s not usually an issue since he always tells the kids to behave, Emmett decided it was necessary to punch a kid last week.

To be honest, Carlisle didn’t really care if the kid was a bully or not, all he viewed it as was something more drawing attention to them.

On top of that, the cattiness between Edward and Rosalie seemed to be especially bad today.

They were at each other’s throats for the better part of the day, and nothing would get them to separate.

At work, at least a dozen new patients showed up. A factory that was close by had a gas leak, very minor. None of the people were harmed at all, but many still insisted on going to the clinic.

Carlisle’s not one to discourage people from getting checked out, but he is one to tell people to go home when they’re fine, which everyone was.

But these people kept insisting something was wrong. A boy with a broken arm had to wait for three hours for a room to open up because the factory workers refused to leave.

By the time he got home, he was exhausted, you could tell. His eyes were heavy, as were his footsteps. His hair was disheveled, he had clearly been running his fingers through it all day from the stress.

He looked like a mess. But even then, he greeted you with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

He always takes such good care of you, whether you’re sick or not, he’s always there with whatever you want.

Now it’s your turn.

“Carlisle, are you busy?” You ask, peeking into his home office. Even after the super long day, he’s a man of habit.

“Not particularly,” he turns to look at you, setting his pen down, “why?”

“Follow me.”

You lead him to the bathroom, where a nice, warm back is drawn. Complete with lilac scented bath oil and two candles lit on the sink.

“The bath looks beautiful, darling. I’m sure the lavender will be great for your skin.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” you quip. All he does is raise an eyebrow. “It’s for you. I know you’ve had a long day, so go relax and meet me in the bedroom when you’re done.”

You don’t give him a chance to argue before you leave, shutting the door tightly behind you.

He emerges about 30 minutes later, still toweling his hair off.

“Ok now come on over here,” you pat the bed next to you, motioning him to sit there. Again, all he does is quirk and eyebrow but he obliges.

You take the remote to the TV in yours and Carlisle’s room, turning on his favorite movie. A classic one from the silent film era.

“But this… I haven’t seen this movie in years… how did you get it?”

“That’s the beauty of streaming platforms.”

You both sit in silence for a while, Carlisle seemingly happy to just watch his favorite movie after so long. Eventually, he turns to look at you with an inquisitive expression.

“So, what’s all this for?”

“What, am I not allowed to take care of you from time to time?”

He laughs slightly at that.

“A human taking care of a vampire, how twisted.”

You grab his face between your hands at that, drawing him close and looking deep into his yellow eyes.

“It’s not if I want to do it, and I would move the Earth for you.”

“Hopeless romantic,” and with that he kisses you.

Vampire! Bella:

She tends to… shut down

We all know how she was when she couldn’t be with Edward

That translates over

It really wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal.

Your Spanish class was going to be taking a two week trip to Spain.

Only, Bella wasn’t in Spanish. This time around, she chose to take French. Which was all fine and good, until it meant that she couldn’t go with you.

Cue two weeks of endless calls and texts.

On the phone with you , she sounds fine. But from your calls with Alice, she’s not doing too hot.

She hasn’t been hunting since you’ve been gone, she’s completely stopped going to class, and she also hasn’t talked to anyone in the house.

It’s the last night of your trip, you’re in your hotel room, the girl you’re sharing with is sound asleep in the other bed, but you know one girl who’s never asleep.

You call Bella’s number, and she answers instantly, like she’s been waiting all day for you to call. In all honesty, she probably has.

“Hey, what are you up to?” You can hear the attempt to be nonchalant in her voice, but her eagerness gives her away.

“Oh nothing, I just got off the phone with Alice… wanna tell me why you didn’t leave our room today? Or yesterday? Or the day before?”

You can hear her pause on the line, like she’s trying to come up with a convincing lie, but eventually she sighs.

“I just… I’ve just been missing you a lot, is all. I want you here next to me, I feel incomplete without you.”

Yowch. Right through the heart.

You decide then to help in some way, you don’t know how immediately, but you have to do something.

So you start to hum.

Whenever you have a bad day, Bella hums the song her mom used to sing to her. You always ask her to, and even though she says she isn’t a great singer, she indulges you anyway.

Sometimes it’s the only thing that can stop you from a panic attack or calm you enough to go back to sleep after a nightmare.

You hear her gasp slightly before y he sound of sheets rustling, presumably her laying her head down.

You go through the whole song twice over, Bella never telling you to stop or joining you.

After your voice fades out and the line stays dead for a moment, you swear you can hear Bella overthinking.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I’m an apex predator. I shouldn’t be so upset whenever you leave for a little bit.”

You laugh lightly at that, and you can hear her scoff across the line.

“I don’t mind. Especially when it’s you. Bella, I love you and I would do anything for you.”

“Even if I’m a beautiful monster who was designed to kill you?”

“Even if you did kill me, I would hope that my blood nourishes you for months on end.”

[kyumisyumi]

HI!!! Love your work!!

Is it possible for you to write a fic where the monster is just too big for the reader but the monster is in rut or some sort of overbearing horniness so they coax the reader open to be able to take all of them

So sorry this took forever, life was life-ing. Job hunting and the works. Happy I could finally finish my first request here.

Warning: nsfw tags: heat, double penetration, fisting-ish, we're all just animals at the end of the day

Ship: Naga x Reader (F)

Word count: 800+ words

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

You were so good for him. Always so good; wet and soft and absolutely divine. He never mind that you couldn't take both of his cocks, just having one in you was enough to drive him damn near feral. His mind threatening to slip into an animalistic haze begging him to fuck you until every last drop of energy -and cum-  in him was gone. Now, however, things were different. The season's arrival brought with it the an aphrodisiac than burned inside his veins. The overwhelming need to breed you - and breed you proper- was pushing him beyond reason. Beyond thought even. His ears filled with the ringing of need and the only thing that could pierce it was the sweet sounds of your moans.

"Please." You didn't even know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For him to start? He'd been fucking you with his fingers for what felt like eons. His long, firm digits sliding in you effortlessly as their tips pressed against the spongy little spot that seemed to disconnect your brain. Your thighs and the plush sheets beneath were absolutely drenched in slick leaking out of your swollen cunt. You didn't even know how you got here; one moment you were tending to the houseplants that sat by the living room window, the next moment you were being pulled into a tight reptilian coil. One blink later; your clothes were gone and a long, forked tongue was tasting you.

You cursed as his fingers pulled wider and wider, finally letting in the fifth digit. Your back arched as he slowly pushed forward with his whole arm. You could feel your insides mold to the shape of his muscles. Did you just come? Your senses were absolutely fried from overstimulation. But the pulsing of your walls eventually caught up to you, bringing with it the jolts of pleasure that wracked your whole body. Pretty little tears began to spill from your eyes again as you searched for him through blurry vision. So weak and overwhelmed that you needed the visage of him for comfort. Your brain didn't care that he was the one causing it.

His eyes almost glowed as he peered down at you, the once thin slits of his pupils expanded, almost fully concealing the color. He looked mad. The pearly whites of his eyes tinted red along the edges. Bloodshot. He was lost. He looked as if he hadn't blinked in years, as if even the milliseconds it would take to close his lids were too long to not look at you.

"Are you ready for me, Love?" He spoke for the first time in ages. Voice raspy, dry, as though all moisture had been sucked from him. "Of course you are." He answered, with zero input from you, not that you could even muster words at this point. "So fucking perfect." He pulled his hand out of you. His eyes finally left you to look at the glistening moisture that covered it then at your thoroughly abused hole. His forked tongue absentmindedly licked your taste off his fingers. He began muttering to himself. Your concern for his sanity grew. You could barely hear his words; praises and coos for you. Thanking the Gods for bringing you to him. Making you for him.

When he raised himself on his tail you could see the leaking tips of his engorged members. Both of them pressing against his abdomen, twitching as though they were ready to spill seed at any moment. He positioned himself between your trembling thighs, one hand squeezing both cocks together. You'd yet to realize his intentions before you felt the dual tips slip into you. You opened your mouth to say something. What? Again, you weren't sure. But when he slowly began to push himself further and further inside you your vocal chords released a ferine moan.  You could feel your walls stretch to hold him, like a fulfilling pressure rather than the straining pain you'd expected. That scared you so much you never tried prior. He lowered himself over you, elbows bent on either side of your limp form. His eyes refocused, studying every minute movement of your face.

There was no patience in him, all of it spent. He'd bottomed out in you before you'd even realised it. His hips smashing against your pelvis with a loud groan. His chest pressed into yours with every breath. He'd give you a moment and only a moment before the thrusting began. You'd felt full before but it couldn't compare to what you feel now. The raw connection of having him inside you; not his fingers, not his tongue, not his hand but his manhood sheathed within you where it belonged. Nothing felt more right, it was both intoxicating and sobering. Pleasure would always be pleasure but this was something more.

You were reduced to cries and mewls as you both devolved into animals.

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 1/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

This is chapter one of…I don’t know. I may continue if enough people are enjoying it.  Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Oh God, Martin thought to himself as fur began to emerge from under his skin, covering newly reshaped limbs and hiding sharp claws from sight, Jon’s going to be so mad at me!

Oh no, Martin panicked as blunt teeth gave way to pointed canines, this is so unprofessional of me! 

Only then did Martin allow the terrible question to enter his mind – what was he becoming? 

He should have known better than to pick up an unfamiliar book lying around in the archives of the Magnus Institute, the academic home of research into the paranormal and esoteric. At the very least, if he was going to pick it up, he should have done so only to tidy it away. Why he had felt compelled to open the tome and sneak a peek inside, he couldn’t say. 

As the world around him lurched into a new angle, Martin could only think about the presentation his boss had delivered a few weeks prior. 

Obviously, you shouldn’t be dealing directly with any artefacts of note, Jon had said dryly, tapping the large screen behind him that showed countless examples of seemingly mundane objects. We have a department for that for a reason. However, it’s not unusual for one or two to slip through the cracks; particularly books, given the extensive nature of our library. If you should check out a book as part of your research and you see the name ‘Leitner’ involved in any capacity, do not read the book. Put it down immediately. Martin, that goes double for you – if you even think the word ‘Leitner’ near a book, I want you to turn around immediately and walk back to your desk – do you understand? 

Had he seen the name ‘Leitner’ in this book? There had been a torn bookplate in the front, and maybe the remaining letters had been ‘ner’...

Did it matter? He was paying for his stupidity now, Martin thought. All fur and claws and fangs, and oh, what hideous monster would emerge from what had once been Martin Blackwood? 

Martin lay down, his fluffy belly flat against the floor, and pushed his newly shaped paws over his eyes. Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about! Jon would burst in at any moment, see some horrible creature, not realise it was Martin, and—

“Martin?” 

As if on cue, the door to the shared office of the archival assistants opened, and in walked Jonathan Sims. “Martin, have you taken your lunch break? Tim and Sasha have already gone, and Elias has been getting very prickly about me making sure you all…oh. Martin?” 

Martin had scampered under the table in hope of avoiding his boss’ gaze. Treated now to a blurry view of the man’s green socks and scuffed brogues, he watched as Jon entered the office. “Oh. Good. He’s gone already,” Jon said to himself with the air of a job well done. He turned to leave, and Martin had almost let out a sigh of relief when the man’s feet stopped. 

No, no! Martin thought, Go! You can’t see me like this! I bet I’m the ugliest monster, all fangs and talons and hair all over the place! 

A scarred hand appeared in Martin’s imperfect vision, scooping up the fallen book that was to blame for Martin’s plight. A new fear sprang up in Martin’s mind then – what if Jon read the book too? 

He had to do it. He had to save him! Even if it meant Jon would see Martin’s disgusting new form, he had to keep Jon safe! 

He lunged with a power that Martin hadn’t ever known before. A screeching roar – or a miaow, really – pierced the air, and Martin all but bodyslammed Jon’s hands, knocking the book firmly from his grip. It span across the room and slid under the bookshelf out of sight. 

Now he’d done it. Now Jon would see Martin in all his revolting glory – witness what that awful Leitner book had turned him into. If he didn’t recognise Martin, as surely he wouldn’t, he’d no doubt call security, and then what would happen? Would Martin be taken down? Locked away in the tunnels for examination and research? Worse, what if Jon did recognise him? He’d know that Martin had messed up in a spectacular fashion, and he’d be so disappointed in him. Would he be the one to tell Martin nothing could be done, that the effects of a Leitner were irreversible and that they’d have to–

“Good Lord! Oh…oh, now, where did you come from, little one?” 

Jon’s voice took on a bizarrely soft tone that Martin had never heard before. He couldn’t respond, however, as thin hands had latched gently around his torso and lifted him from the ground, a startled purr rumbling from Martin’s chest. 

All of a sudden, Jon’s face filled Martin’s entire view. And for once, no scowl darkened his features. In fact, Jon almost looked…delighted? 

Martin blinked. 

“Mrrow?” 

Not once in over a year of working for Jonathan Sims had Martin managed to coax a smile from the other man. All his best attempts, his best teas, his ridiculous amount of overtime to finish his reports to a standard Jon would accept, all his own smiles and attempts to cheer the man up, not one of these gargantuan efforts had been rewarded with a smile. 

And now, with one confused miaow, Martin had unlocked a smile from Jon. 

“How did you get in here? Did you get lost? Did Martin leave the door open again? Oh, I bet he did. I bet he did!” Jon repeated, descending into a cooing baby voice that would have had Martin howling with laughter if he could still laugh. Jon shifted the perplexed Martin to sit over his shoulder more comfortably, the book all but forgotten. “But you’re such a handsome boy! And no collar? Poor little man, have you been wandering around looking for some food and shelter? We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry, little champion.” 

What…the hell…is happening? Martin wondered, even as a big, goofy smile curled his lips. 

Jon was carrying him. Out of the office. Stroking his back. Calling him a little champion and handsome. 

“How about a saucer of warm milk, hmm? Does that sound good? Would that set you right, hmm?” 

It was only then that Martin’s mind dragged itself out of the dazed, happy fog to piece together what Jon was saying. Why he was saying it. 

Martin had not been transformed into some vicious beast from the eldritch corners of reality. 

As they passed by Jon’s office, Martin caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass pane of the door. 

A large cat with white and orange fur blinked back at him from over Jon’s shoulder. 

──── •✧• ────

Martin was, of course, the talk of the town after everyone returned from their lunch break. Funny, then, that not one person actually mentioned Martin. 

“So you’re gonna take him to the vets, right, boss?” Tim asked, rolling another roll of Sellotape towards Martin, apparently expecting him to play with it. Martin, on principle, refused, turning his nose up and huffing. 

Tim, come on! You’re back, Sasha’s back, who isn’t back yet? Ask where Martin is! he thought. 

“He seems healthy enough to me,” Jon replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was pouring over. “Why?” 

“To get his microchip checked? Get him back to his owners?” 

That made Jon look up, a flash of shock and upset clear in his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. “His ow— No, no, he hasn’t even got a collar on. No owners.”

“Right, but by law, cats have to be microchipped. Maybe his collar fell off or something?” A hint of amusement danced in Tim’s questions; Martin could tell that Tim was toying with Jon. Jon, however, hadn’t picked up on that. 

“M-maybe,” he replied stiffly. “Right, yes, fine. Vets after work. But he can stay here for now. Till the end of the shift.” 

Martin wandered over to Jon, sitting himself down by the leg of his chair and craning his neck up, tail swishing behind him. 

Right, now that’s sorted, onto the next obvious issue in the office, Jon, he thought. Which is…the obvious and mysterious disappearance of—

“Martin’s late back off his lunch,” Jon noted, checking the office clock with a critical glance. “Could you check the archival assistants’ office please, Tim? Maybe drop him a text. Probably got himself distracted by some…particularly interesting bollards or something…”

Sure, there’d been an insult mixed in there, but Jon had noticed! He’d noticed Martin’s disappearance, and that meant Martin had to repay his kindness! 

Fuelled with delight, the cat sprang up onto Jon’s lap, earning him a surprised chuckle. “Ah! Well, hello! Y-yes, you can sit there while I work, Champion. That’s fine.” 

Tim snorted as he headed out of Jon’s office, arching an eyebrow at the pair of them. “Champion? Are you kidding me? He’s a classic Fluffy or Ginger or Marshmallow or something.”

“Nonsense. He’s brimming with regal strength. A Champion if I ever saw one,” Jon retorted with a sniff, deeming the argument not worth his attention beyond that and turning back to his work. “Let me know if Martin gets back to you. And if he shows up, send him in here.” 

The newly named Champion stretched out lazily on Jon’s lap, settling down for a cheeky nap on company time. 

Already here, Jon. 

──── •✧• ────

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 5

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader

Summary: the wedding, not too much grid involvement (sorry!!!)

masterlist

________

You didn't expect planning a wedding to be this hard. You and Lance agreed on something more low-key, but that doesn't really happen when you are both famous in your own right and you are marrying the son of a billionaire, so you settled on a fancy but small wedding. Lawrence funded the whole wedding, wanting the day to go off without a hitch, besides you and Lance getting hitched obviously. Lance took care of planning the Honeymoon, leaving you and Lawrence to plan the wedding.

"Y/n, go take a break. You are stressing out over nothing my dear. Let me handle it, your wedding shouldn't be stressful," Lawrence rests his hand on your shoulder and you nod, taking a deep breath. Your soon-to-be father-in-law has done a great job so far at bringing your vision to life, so you trusted him to argue with the beach venue in Greece. You walked away and went to the mini library of the Switzerland home.

Your bridal party/mini vacation to a small beach town in Corsica, planned by none other than George Russell and Chloe Stroll, was fabulous. The weekend flew by so quick, and Daniel made it his personal mission to get you drunk off your ass 24/7. The whole book club, besides Fernando made up your bridal party, in addition to George, Logan, and Chloe.

“Y/n, you look beautiful,” Chloe and Claire help the stylists put finishing touches on you. The greek sun has tanned you perfectly the past couple days, and given you a beautiful glow. There is a knock on the door and Chloe is quick to open it. Your bridal party walks in, dressed in their tan suits.

“My daughter, you look stunning,” Kimi hugs you, he is giving you away on your request.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Your bridal party consists of Chloe (your maid of honor), the book club (minus Fernando who is with his teammate), George, and Logan. Logan’s groomsmen is also filled with drivers as well as Chloe’s husband Scotty who is serving as his Best Man.

“Alright, time for one last meeting before testing,” Checo says, one of your wedding photographers making sure to catch the moment on camera. An hour filled with laughter passes quickly and soon enough, Lawrence is guiding you to your first look with Lance. It was one thing that you and Lance were certain of, wanting the private moment for yourselves.

Lance is standing on the balcony staring at the ocean, waiting for you. You spot a photographer standing in a corner of the large space, trying to remain invisible as you slip onto the balcony.

“Come here often?” your voice shakes slightly as the breath leaves you. He looks utterly handsome in his suit and perfectly styled hair.

“I- you look- wow,” he says, taking in every inch of you. Both of you look at each other, tears pricking in your eyes.

“I can, and will, say the same thing about you,” you grin, stepping towards him. He carefully pulls you into him, kissing you.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” he rests his forehead on yours.

“Half an hour,” you could hear the sounds of your guests filling in.

“Then they will be able to see the most beautiful woman in the world,” Lance smiles, your heart racing.

“It will be a shame that they won’t be looking at you. How will they know that I am the luckiest girl in the world,” you return his smile.

“No, I am the luckiest guy. I get to marry a multitalented woman. You are an incredible racer, the most beautiful woman on earth, the kindest soul, and yet you choose me,” he continues his flattery.

“I am a good racer, not incredible,” you laugh. You aren’t like Max, Charles, Lando or Carlos, you don’t fight for podiums as often, but you do tend to hang around P4 or P5. You aren’t a world championship winning driver, it’s why Red Bull signed you to replace Checo in the upcoming season following his retirement. They need a solid second driver, and they know that Max will teach you more and push you.

“Nonsense, my baby is going to be driving for Red Bull, they chose you for a reason,” Lance reassures you.

“Y/n, Lance, one more minute,” Chloe interrupts.

“I’ll see you out there,” you squeeze his hands, a motion he returns. After a quick kiss, you follow him off the balcony. Your stylists do some quick touch ups before your party is escorted outside, you watch as the procession starts, Lance leading the pairs down the aisle. The grid takes the coupling in stride, holding arms with each other and making everyone giggle at them, including you.

“Are you ready, Kirppu?” Kimi asks, tears in his eyes.

“Remember, I’m training you for whenever those three get married,” you glance at your adoptive siblings.

“I know, they adore their older sister. Let’s not make Lance wait any longer,” Kimi sighs as you squeeze his arm. You and Kimi walk gracefully down the aisle, a wide smile on your face, and Kimi’s usually stoic face full of emotion. When the officiant, aka Sebastian Vettel, asks who is giving you away, he proudly identifies himself as your father, and when he sits down beside Minttu he is crying like a baby. The ceremony flies by, but you and Lance soak in every detail. Your vows to each other are short and sweet, not needing to say a lot to profess your love to each other.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Sebastian says, Lance wastes no time in wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a kiss. The guys on both sides of you go nuts, Kimi cries again, and you pull apart with a grin. Lance picks you up and carries you down the aisle.

The reception takes place on the beach, you changed into a shorter, flowier, white dress for dancing and sand purposes, Lance’s suit jacket is off and the top few shirt buttons are undone. You and Lance entered first for the sole purpose of wanting to see how the ‘couples’ entered. Each driver pairing made the both of you laugh your butts off, very glad that there is video evidence of it.

You both refused to let Netflix film and other celebrity news outlets photograph any parts of the wedding, they weren’t invited and if they wanted media from it, they can pay the both of you a hefty sum. The security provisions for keeping away paparazzi meant that everyone was able to truly enjoy themselves.

“Family photo!” Minttu says, pulling you and Lance over as the reception starts. The first picture is just Robin, Rianna, and you carefully holding Grace, then Lance gets added in, then Kimi and Minttu join, then Lance leaves the picture so it is only you 6.

“My icecubes,” Kimi smiles at the pictures adoringly.

“One day we are going to drive for Ferrari together, just like Iskä,” Robin looks up at you and you smile, knowing that you will be far to old to do that when he is in F1.

“Heck yeah, little bro,” you hug him. Maybe you will get to be his race engineer, congratulating him when he wins his first championship.

“You two will be champions of the world together,” Lance winks at you and Robin.

“You look like a princess and a prince,” Rianna says, you pick her up and hug her. Kimi is silently combusting while watching his kids be cute together.

“That makes you a princess too, since you are my little sister,” you tickle her and she squirms out of your arms into Lance’s.

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” he angles her away from you as she laughs.

“Hey!” you laugh as well.

“Ok kids, let your older sister and brother greet their other guests,” Minttu says, Lances heart swells hearing himself included. You both make your laps around the tables, greeting the guests before dinner is served. The speeches are wonderful, and before you know it, you are dancing with Kimi for your Father-Daughter dance.

“Are you ok, Dad? You are crying more than I think you ever have,” you smile softly, as he uses a had to wipe his eyes.

“I just never expected to grow so close to you when I offered to mentor you, and now you are for all intents and purposes my daughter, and I’m so proud of how much you’ve accomplished this past year. If I had it my way, your last name would be Räikkönen, not Stroll now,” Kimi sniffles.

“About that. My new legal name is Y/n Räikkönen-Stroll. I talked to the family about it and they agreed, I was going to wait to surprise you,” you reveal, his smile quickly growing.

“I’m so happy to call you my daughter,” he hugs you as the song ends.

“No more happy as I am to call you my dad,” you squeeze him tight. As the night ends, you and Lance are whisked away to catch the private jet to wherever Lance planned the Honeymoon.

instagram

y/username now and forever Y/n Räikkönen-Stroll ily @/lancestroll

lancestroll can’t wait to spend forever with you ❤️

fernandoalonso félicitations , beautiful wedding!

kimiraikkonen Congratulations, Kirppu, so glad to have a new addition to the family.

y/username thanks dad!

sebastianvettel Congrats to the happy couple! Always a good wedding when Kimi cries!

logansargeant poor Nico, his grid wife has a grid husband now

nicohulkenberg No one can separate us, our love is eternal

y/username who said I can’t have both! 🥰

lancestroll @y/username …me, your husband???

redbullracing our favorite grid couple! p.s. let us know what name your are racing under - Admin

y/username Y/n Räikkönen, two Strolls on the grid would be too chaotic. love you admin 🫶

comments on this post are limited

[dammn-dean]

Hii could you do a ghost x reader who is just gave birth having their day old child and soap John gaz came over to ghost house to see the baby once the reader left the room to go breastfeed their baby in their room price telling ghost how far he had come in life

Here you go! Thank you for the request, and I hope it’s okay. I made it a bit more (just a week) rather than a day old before they came over. That’s just because if someone came to my house the day I got home after giving birth, I would kill them 😅

Too Good

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Words: 2400+

Warnings: Nothing really!

Also, this is the same universe as Unexpected! You don't have to read them first, but if you want to here is Part 1 and Part 2.

Beautiful art/rendering from @ave661

"Love, they are here!” Simon’s voice bellowed through the flat to reach your ears.

You let out a small, “Okay,” just loud enough for him to hear it. Your eyes staring back at you in the mirror, checking your appearance. 

Today was the day you were finally going to meet Simon’s team. You had overheard a conversation he had on the phone a week back, when you finally were home from the hospital. Simon was good at being sneaky (it was in the job description) but you still overheard him. 

“Aye, I need a bit more time,” he murmured into the phone. 

After a brief pause, “What do you mean ‘Just because’ isn’t an excuse?” He huffed. 

You were paused in the hallway, sleeping baby in your arms just praying she would stay asleep so you could listen in to the conversation a moment longer. 

“Gaz saw me take off from base? Bloody hell.” You could almost hear him gripping between his eyes in irritation. 

“Yes, I promise everything is alright yeah? Just had a bit of something to do.” He explained vaguely as ever. 

There was a long pause on his end, like the person on the other side of the phone was lecturing him. He will give an occasional small ‘Yes’, ‘I know’ or ‘Yes sir’,  which had you wondering who he was talking to. 

“Fuck me, Cap. You make it impossible to not tell you everything. Listen, I’ll call you later today and tell you everything okay?” Simon barely paused long enough for a response before he hung up. 

With a long sigh, he stood from his spot on the couch. He had noticed you were gone an awfully long time and began down the hallway to check on you. 

Too focused on slowly rocking your sleeping daughter in your arms and trying to be quiet to listen to his call you hadn’t even realized Simon was heading your way until it was too late. 

You almost jumped out of our skin when he appeared like an apparition into your vision. 

“Jesus Si!” You quietly yelled, more of a whisper to make sure you didn’t wake the baby. 

You watched as his lips curled into a smirk. “And just what are you doing sweetheart?” He leaned his shoulder into the wall as casual as ever. 

“Oh uh- well I was you know, well I was-“ your brain couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough.

“Didn’t take you for an eavesdropper sweet girl,” he said with a grin. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” you replied defensively. 

“Right,” he laughed. “Hear anything good?”

“Not… really,” you murmured, clearly caught. 

“That was my Captain,” he explained. “Checking in on things after the way I left base.” 

You simply nodded, not quite sure what to say. 

“I thought I had left unseen, but apparently Gaz saw me leave ‘in a panic’ as he put it,” he rolled his eyes. “So he wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Makes sense.” You bit the inside of your lip to stop from adding on to the sentence. 

But Simon always reads you like a book. He squinted at you before questioning “What is it?” 

Your eyebrows almost shot to your hairline at that. You cleared your throat and slowly walked around him to head towards the living room. The baby’s bassinet was in there and it would make it easier to have this conversation if she wasn’t in your arms. You gently placed her down with a kiss on her head, Simon followed right behind you and mirrored you with a tender kiss in the exact spot you had kissed her precious little head. 

You sighed softly before sitting on the couch. Simon sat beside you, shifting himself to face you a little more before you started talking. 

“I suppose I wondered… why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” You questioned softly. 

“Just what do you mean sweetheart?” 

“Well I mean… why didn’t you just tell him you left because I called you and that we have a baby.” You asked with a small tilt of your head. 

“Oh.” Simon responded with a hand on the back of his neck. He took a moment or two before his eyes met you again. “Love, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way and I hope you will let me explain.” He pleaded.

Even though that made you terrified, you just focused on your breathing and nodded. 

“Well I haven’t told the team about you yet,” he explained softly. 

Your face betrayed you and it fell immediately, eyes unable to meet him. Not even a second passed before his hands were on your tugging your chin back up to look at him. 

“It isn’t like that my love,” Simon went on. “You are just… everything to me. I come here to you and I don’t think about work. You deserve the world and somehow I thought keeping you and them separated would be best.” 

Hazel eyes held yours for a long time, nothing but true and raw emotion in them to convey he was telling the truth. 

“I understand,” you replied quietly. 

“Also, we haven’t really talked about if you wanted me to tell the team so I didn’t want to overstep…” Simon professed. 

As silly as it sounds out loud, he never wanted to force you to be a part of that part of his life, a part of the Ghost’s life. He has endured things you never deserved to even hear of, his sweet girl didn’t need to be exposed to it all if he had any say in the matter.

“I don’t mind if you tell people about me,” you said, almost embarrassed. You could feel the tips of your ears warming at the confession. 

“Yeah pretty?” He smiled as he gently touched your cheek with his fingers? “You want me to tell my team about you?” 

“Well I don’t-you don’t have to.” You mumbled out quickly. 

“You think I wouldn’t want to tell them about you?” Simon asked honestly. His fingers gently pushed your hair behind your ear. 

“I- I don’t know. Does everyone else talk about their partners?” You questioned honestly. 

“Price is the only one with a partner, Gaz and Johnny brag about their flings occasionally.” Simon broke into a big grin. “They won’t know what to do when I tell them about you.” 

“Oh,” you bit the inside of your lip again. “So you want to tell them about me?” 

“Of course love… I’ve almost let it slip out a few times as is,” Simon leaned in to brush a kiss along your cheek. “And I can’t wait to tell them about Emma too. If you are okay with that?” He pulled back to read your face. 

“I’m okay with it if you are, Si,” you reassured him. 

“I’m okay with it… but I will warn you once I tell them they won’t want to wait long before seeing you and the little miss,” he smiled as he leaned his head to meet yours. 

You paused for a moment, taking him in. Feeling safe and happier than you can remember feeling in a long time. “I’m okay with that.” 

So there you stood, in your mirror. Checking your appearance for the 5th or 6th time for the night. Even though you were a new mom, dealing with a changed body you wanted to make a good impression. 

Emma had been in her bassinet sleeping, awaiting the arrival of Simon’s friends (or work mates as he put it). Your body was still healing, so you had thrown on a soft but matching lounge set and felt nice to not be wearing a spit-up stained shirt and sweats for once. 

Simon opened the front door to see Price, Gaz and Johnny. All looking varied shades of giddy. Johnny was all but bouncing on his toes. Gaz held a kind smile that was a little bit too big to be classified as a ‘normal’ grin. Price stood behind the other two, stoic and holding a pretty bouquet of flowers. 

“Flowers are for the Missus,” Price began with a smile. 

“And this is for the little miss,” Gaz exclaimed. Pulling a gift bag that was hidden behind his back. 

Simon couldn’t help the small chuckle that fell from him. 

“Well come in then, yeah?” He asked with an arm out inviting his team into your flat. 

One by one the men made their way inside, all smacking Simon’s shoulder with pride before coming face to face with you in the living room. Simon took a few steps in your direction, before placing a gentle hand on your lower back to guide you deeper into the room.

“Price, Johnny, Gaz,” Simon began pointing as he said their name. “This is Y/N, sweetheart… this is my team.” Simon wouldn’t admit that he was nervous, but you could hear the waver in his voice that wasn’t usually there. 

“Heya there Mrs Ghost,” Johnny spoke up first, hand out shaking yours gently. “You dinnae tell us she was such a bonnie lass aye, LT.” His Scottish accent was thick, but the compliment followed by the wink he gave you had your ears burning. 

“Don’t you start with her MacTavish,” Simon warned jokingly, but pulled you into him a little more.

“I’m Gaz,” Gaz spoke up with a charming smile and a small handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied as your eyes fell to the small gift bag in his hand. He held the gift out, and Simon grabbed it. “We got the little Miss a gift, hope that’s alright.” Gaz gave you a huge grin showing almost all of his teeth. Even if you weren’t okay with the gift, how could anyone say no to him? 

The last man, with the mutton chops was the only one left and you knew who he was because Simon spoke about him the most to you, Captain Price.  

The Captain held out a beautiful bouquet of flowers to you, which you took immediately and smelled. “Nice to meet you,” he began. “Hard to believe someone has held Ghost’s heart and he is just now telling us about you.” He held a polite smile, but his voice had an edge to it.

Simon’s hand that was free raised to the back of his neck nervously. You let your eyes drift to his for a moment, silently checking in. Simon gave your waist a small and reassuring squeeze, signally that he’s good.

“Thank you all for the gifts… and it’s so nice to meet all of you. It’s great to be able to put faces to the names from Si’s stories.” 

“Si, eh?” Johnny’s lips turn up in a grin at the nickname.

“Johnny,” Price spoke up at that, warning him to behave. 

“Well who wants to meet Emma?” You spoke up, ready to move past the formalities. 

Simon nodded, and led you over to where she was still sleeping soundly in the bassinet. Once your eyes fall on her sleeping form you can’t help but smile. As gently as Simon could he picked her up with a kiss on her head, and laid her in your arms so that everyone could see her. The men gently circle in around you, none of them wanting to be the last to lay their eyes on her. 

“Wow,” Gaz whispered out. 

“Beautiful bairn LT,” Johnny complimented. His hand reaching out for Simon’s shoulder again to congratulate.

“This is Emma,” you introduce her to the team. 

She was tiny, sleeping while swaddled in her blanket. Price felt pride swell up in his chest, same as he would as if this was his biological grandchild. Simon stood at your side, watching you show off your daughter. Hand never leaving your lower back, as his other gently brushes her little cheek with the back of two fingers. 

Simon looked to Price and their eyes met, “Congratulations you two, what a wonderful baby girl.”

Emma decided now was the time to start whimpering, in warning before she started to cry out. You immediately started shushing her gently and bouncing her softly, to soothe her. 

“I think it’s time for someone to eat,” you explain to the group. “We will be back.”

Simon whispers into your ear, just a small word of encouragement before you head to the nursery to feed your daughter. 

They all watch you leave, no one speaking up until the door closes behind you. 

“Well if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Gaz gushed immediately. 

“Aye, LT you are pulling way outcha league,” Johnny bellows out a laugh at that. 

“Shut it, Johnny.” Simon rolls his eyes before heading to the kitchen. “Want a drink?” They all give different versions of a yes, then Price speaks up that he will join Simon in the kitchen. Gaz and Johnny then take a seat on the couch, starting up conversation immediately.

Simon heads straight to the cabinet snagging 4 tumblers out, before reaching to the bourbon on the counter. 

“Thanks for inviting us Simon,” Price started. “Your girls are lovely.” 

Simon couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips. Despite how uncomfortable he was with all of this, from inviting his team into your flat, being a new father, hell he hasn’t even asked you if he can move in with you full time yet, he felt more at peace than he had in a long time. 

“Thanks Price.” He slid his glass across the island to Price, and he accepted the glass with a tilt of his head.

“You have come a long way, Simon.” Price expressed honestly. “In more ways than I can ever express.” He leaned his elbows on the island, looking into the glass of amber liquid. “Seeing you happy like this isn’t something I ever expected.” Price pulled his eyes from the glass to meet Simon’s. 

“Hell, I for sure never expected it,” Simon joked. 

“I mean it,” Price held a serious tone. “You deserve this.”

Simon nodded, not sure he did deserve this, but no sense in saying it outloud. 

“Aye, LT you mind if we put the match on?” Gaz asked from the entry of the kitchen, hand gesturing back to the TV in the living room.

“Sure,” he answered with a shake of his head. 

Without another word, Simon grabbed a second tumbler for one of the guys as Price grabbed the remaining one. 

“Who would believe we are going to watch the football match in Ghost’s flat?” Johnny jokes from the couch, grabbing the glass Simon handed him.

With a roll of his eyes, “Don’t get used to it.” Although, a smile was on his lips and his tone wasn’t as serious as usual. Maybe having them over isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Since this could be read as part 3 of Unexpected I went ahead and tagged you all again! Hope that is okay 😊

Tags: @daemondoll @mileyraes @axoleos @arminarlertssword @wawuwe @cxltblood @mrflyingbanana03 @itsmytimetoodream @arminarlertssword @mrssabinecallas @babygirl-riley @gplol @yuly

Thank you for reading! If you have an idea or request for a fic, feel free to send 🖤

[love-is-patient]

I have religious trauma.

I was raised in a household where my dad wanted to be God, and so characterized Him in a way that left me constantly paranoid.

God was a judge, God was a debt collector, God was a hammer waiting to strike.

My mother was likewise delusional to a point. She used religion as a manner of control, manipulating my egotistical dad and our chaotic little world so she could feel better about herself.

I was abused in the church. I’ve been so many churches since childhood I can’t count them.

I was told I was possessed because I was a child with adhd and couldn’t sit still in a pew. I was told that if I didn’t see visions or speak in tongues, I wasn’t saved. I was told that I must be thinking about God at all times or I wasn’t good enough. That I was lukewarm, unlovable, unworthy.

I was too afraid to take communion. I cried and turned away from the altar multiple times because I was a too dirty to touch the offering.

I was told so many awful things that I grew up with a persistent religious paranoia on top of my already anxiety inducing life.

So… why am I still a Christian, after all of that?

Stockholm syndrome, right?

It would be easy to write it off as that, but I did turn away from religion. In the back of my mind. I stayed cautious in case God was still watching.

It wasn’t until I got rid of the destructive influences in my life that things changed.

My perception of God changed when I left the awful people using His name in vain- or for personal gain.

When I grew up, learned to be discerning about the character of people.

Many people live under the assumption that I did- that God is a tyrant who is waiting for you to mess up so he can smash you and send you to hell. Paradoxically, that almost makes Satan sound preferable.

But that’s not who God is, and he doesn’t want people to go to hell.

Even if you haven’t had good parents, you’ve seen what they’re like. They get excited to share experiences with their children. The first taste of lemon, the first puddles to splash in. First words, first laughs, first steps.

God wanted that for us.

Satan got jealous after his rebellion in heaven. He saw God had something good and wanted it for himself again - even if it was just to spite God.

He offered humanity a choice and we took it.

We can debate why it happened until we’re blue in the face, but what matters most are God’s decisions afterwards.

Everything that has happened since the fall has been God trying to bring his wayward children back without force.

Just like when you see that friend of yours making the same bad decisions day after day, and you know their quality of life would improve if they just stopped. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating. You can give them all the advice in the world but they’ll just keep on doing the thing and complain to you about every headache afterwards.

Now you know a little what God feels like.

Only God is a little more patient than we tend to be.

God doesn’t ask much from us, not as much as people, which is weird to think about.

God doesn’t measure your worth by how good you are at your job, how badly you do in school. He doesn’t equate your value to how rich or poor you are, he doesn’t judge you the same way people do.

The first thing he asks of you is to love him and love each other.

He loves us so much that he opened heaven again if we ask for it.

He came down as flesh and blood in Jesus and took all the punishments we should’ve had. In Jesus death and resurrection, we have a way home.

All he wants for us to do is acknowledge that.

He doesn’t hate you if you can’t pay tithe. He doesn’t talk behind your back if you make a mistake. He doesn’t demean, debase, abuse.

Why am I still a Christian?

Because God was there for me when people weren’t.

God didn’t abuse me as a kid, people did, and used God as a shield.

God didn’t lie to me, call me names, break my things - my parents did.

God didn’t order me to do unbelievable things in order to reach him - my pastors and teachers did.

God didn’t tell me I’m unworthy - people did.

Even if you don’t believe in God, if you’re angry at him, feeling hurt and betrayed.

Maybe take a closer look and see if it’s really the people around you making you miserable, instead of an untouchable, invisible hammer.

[pure-oddity]

Quick n dirty part 2 of the Open relationship with Captain Price (essentially poly 141 tbh) feat.Gaz!

You avoid him after, face hot with shame at being reduced to more animal than human at his hand. He's thorough, observant, and so unwavering you have to retreat lest you drown in his attentions (what he wants).

But your captain is patient. Understanding. Good things come to those who wait! The man is more than willing to wait out the silly little voices in your head that make you run from a good thing - and he IS a good thing. The best in fact.

So he doesn't bat an eye when you slink into his office late at night, thighs clenched and lips bitten raw.

Huffs a laugh when you apologize for needing him again.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart, you're no worse than Soap. C'mere , I'll get you sorted."

Spends the evening with fingers playing in between your legs before slowly stretching you on his cock. He's not a small man by any means, so he feeds and fucks you slowly - inch by inch. Till you're stuffed full and open mouthed, eyes glazed. Limp and pliant in your captains capable hands. His thrusts smooth and steady, hitting spots that leave you breathless. You see him pick up the phone more than you heard it ring. Watch his face pinch in slight frustration as his thrusts turn ever so slightly punishing. His hand keeps your wails from spilling out as he finishes the call.

You're bent over his desk while he hones in on the spot that makes you drip, snakes a hand down to rub along your sex. Orders you to cum, and like a good soldier you listen. Your vision goes white and you aren't sure of the noise that escaped you, if it was a noise at all. Feel your captain fill you , sit down with you snug in his lap while he makes another quick call. He holds you the whole time, whispers praise at "being so brave, knowing you needed me and letting me do my job. Came to me all on your own. So wonderful, everything I could have asked for."

You don't even notice when Gaz walks in, hardly register the gentle hands that whipe the sweat off your brow.

But you do recognize that he's the one guiding you to your room, slipping in the sheets next to you

"Captain got called in for an emergency, s'why he can't be here with you. Sent me to take care of you, love"

And take care he does. He rubs away the ache in your thighs at being spread so wide. Kisses you gentle and smooth while you come back to yourself. Grounding and solid. Doesn't flinch when you recoil, hesitant and unsure.

"He said you'd be skittish after. Ghost tends to be too, it was the same for me in the beginning. It's hard, enjoying yourself huh? Letting yourself be taken care of for a bit. It's okay, I promise it is."

His words sooth exposed nerves and bring forth a tentative calm. What your mind thinks tomorrow is irrelevant. Right now you'd like to kiss Gaz again, and he smiles when you tell him as much.

[blaydie]

Gender neutral reader x Blade

Synopsis: An accident at the accommodation resulted in a late-night stroll to the store. Tensions were high as things grew heated between you and Blade. After resolving your issues, you were met with yet another challenge just before entering the store. He was sure no one would recognise him while he was dressed undercover.

Word count: 1.3k

Contains: Slice of life, subtle displays of affection, Blade in casual attire, gender neutral reader, fluff.

Duty calls. Except, it wasn’t duty at all. It was an evening stroll to the store to stock up on food supplies after a kitchen incident. Burnt food. A completely wrecked pan too. You were guilty as charged for destroying the pan, but he was the one who forgot it was on the stove in the first place. 

By your side was Blade, his appearance concealed from head to toe: a black beanie, sunglasses, surgical mask, and a matching black outfit to go. If you weren’t handed money before heading out of the door, you would question whether you were sourcing these items ethically with his mysterious appearance or if you were robbing the building. 

It was tense. His strides were far too long for you to keep up, trailing behind greatly while he effortlessly walked ahead. Though he claimed he wasn’t upset, it was clear he was throwing some form of tantrum. The two of you had been screaming at one another in the kitchen, managing to alert the rest of the Stellaron Hunters who were present.

“Can you slow down?” You call out, though he doesn’t pause. He turns his head to address you. 

“Perhaps you should train more.”

“You’re ridiculous. If you learned how to properly tend to a stove we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Who in the right mind puts a hot pan directly into cold water?”

“I was panicking.” You mumble, not expecting him to hear it over the strong gusts of wind.

“You were panicking? I was the one who had to put the fire out while you stood there, doing nothing, yelling down my ear.”

With a displeased grunt, he slows his pace down and waits for you to reach his side. There would be no point in forming an active rivalry with someone he is forced to work with and live alongside. If life wasn’t already some form of misery, dealing with that would be the deciding factor testing whatever remains of his patience. 

Blade doesn’t hate you. He’s mostly indifferent to the people around him. There are times when he appears more distant than others, but he’s mostly pleasant company on rare occasions. 

“Would you like to walk around the pier before we head back?”

“Why?” Blade stares down at you, a lock from his bangs escaping the beanie as his head tilts.

“You like it there, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. We’ll see what time it is when we’re done.”

“You look so different like this.” Stringing the conversation along, you attempt to distract him from the previous heated scene.

“What?”

“Casual. It’s strangely off-putting.”

“Do you think I sleep in a suit?” Blade scoffed. He wasn’t offended, simply baffled by how idiotic you make yourself sound on occasion.

“I wouldn’t put it far past you.”

“Do you say the same thing to the others?”

His question was met with silence. Amused by your unspoken answer, he snickers. 

“I see how it is.” He added, returning his vision to the road ahead.

“It’s nothing personal. When I first met you, I got the impression that you were overly formal, even in your downtime.”

“That means I was doing my job right.”

“I suppose. You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” While it’s true you struggled to bond with him at first, you feel yourself becoming more comfortable by his side as days go by.

“You’re bearable.”

“I’ll take your compliment as a sign our argument is officially concluding.” Leaning over, you press your head against him before he nudges you away, a humorous huff of air exerting from his nose. 

Now in the main streets of the city, the amount of civilians and the volume of surrounding areas drastically increases. Crowds were bustling around street food stalls and vendors were flagging over customers from afar, children innocently playing in the fountains which sprayed out from the floor while their parents watched on nearby benches. 

Despite it being overwhelming, you found an odd sense of peace while being in this area. Blade kept his head low and made sure you remained close to his side. Losing you amongst the crowds would only prolong the outing for much longer than necessary. 

As you drew closer to the store you usually go to, you felt an odd amount of eyes on you. Getting glances in public was something you had grown accustomed to, but this was far more than a handful. Blade didn’t seem to notice, continuing his saunter to get things over with.

Just before you reach the storefront, the squeals of young girls echo out from behind. Footsteps rapidly charged, their words becoming registered as they inched closer.

“Is it really him?! Are you sure?!” One of them exclaims, clearly eager to grab a glance. 

“It is! It looks just like him!”

“Get your camera out!”

Storming in front of you and blocking your path is a group of youthful girls, the smiles on their faces wide as they gaze in awe at Blade who stands puzzled in front of them.

“Ah, I can’t believe it! I loved you in the new drama! May I please have your autograph?”

“You did so well! When is your next movie going to be out? We saw the film set on social media!” Another says, gawking as though he was the first man she had ever laid eyes on.

“My next movie?” Blade furrows his brows, glancing back at you with a frantic sense of horror in his eyes.

“How to Steal a Heart! The romcom!”

“Please sign my notebook! Can you write my name and a note too?”

“Give him a moment. He’s still growing used to fan interaction.” You interject the girls who were waddling closer, stretching your arm as a makeshift barrier.

“Okay, thank you, manager! You’re so lucky. I would love to have your job!”

“I have a pen if you need one!”

While they continue to gush, you pull Blade aside, his cheeks bearing a pink tinge from embarrassment. Initially, you had thought your cover had been blown. It had, but not in the way either of you were expecting.

“Are you alright?”

“Who do they think I am?” Judging by the tone, you can tell he was overwhelmed. It was sudden—you feel the pressure too.

“There’s a movie out now in cinemas with the debut of a new actor. He had quite a large social media presence which landed him the role.”

“I’d rather the guards have caught us.”

“Are you going to sign their books?”

“I’m not the person they think I am!”

“If you don’t, it’ll cause more of a scene. They’ll start to question who you are. We don’t need any more attention on us.”

“Nothing I have done could amount to me deserving this. Why does this never happen to anyone else?”

“Enough of the self-pity. This is what his signature looks like; do your best to replicate it.”

Analysing the unique features of this man’s handwriting, Blade grunts and turns back to the girls who were eagerly waiting for him. Reaching forward, he takes the pen and begins scribbling on the notebooks handed, quickly getting them out of the way. Just when he thought he was done, the girl who asked for a photo tugged him by the arm and raised her phone.

“Can we do the heart pose with our hands? I do one half and you do the other!”

“…” Blade stares at you, the nod of your head giving him the answer he needs. “Fine.”

It was a sight to see. With a few more flashes of the camera, he was finally free, the girls scurrying away when they were content with what they had forged from him. In one swift movement, he snatched you by the forearm and dragged you inside.

Speeding through the aisles, Blade gathered everything necessary and dumped it in the basket while you checked out at self-service. When all items are bagged, you make your way outside and are instantly directed on a different route. The area became quiet; you and Blade seemed to be alone on this narrow path. After a few more minutes of following the desolate road, the sparkling lights of the pier finally come into view.

“So, when can I get your autograph?” You tease, shooting him a glance as he takes his sunglasses off.

In a sudden motion, he takes your wrist and grips it firmly in his gloved hand. Using the tip of his index finger, he traces the letters of his name onto your palm, invisibly engraving himself on your skin.

“I don’t believe I need any more fans this evening. We have to head back soon.” Even though he carried the same monotone voice, it seemed softer than usual. This was his time to relax after enduring an excessive amount of unnecessary stress this evening. Having you by his side wasn’t so bad after all. What would he have done without you?

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Punch At First Sight

Summary: Anthony Lockwood x Fe!Reader -> You and Lockwood have met a few times before, however after a punch to the face for the third time, Lockwood, which a push from Lucy, decides to make things different.

Disclaimer: Multiple uses of the f-word. Mentions of accidental violence, ghosts, Kipps being a dick, a slap across the face. Fluff, angst, hints of jealousy, and Lucy giving Lockwood a needed talking to. Not Proof Read.

It was meant to be an easy case. 

A couple of type ones haunting an abandoned building just outside of London. The local ghost hunters had all created that big of a myth they had scared themselves away. And the cost of a Fittes agent was too high of a price for the type of ghosts they had. So, Lockwood and Co were the business chosen. 

Only, it would have been nice to know if one of the previous agents had reached out to an old friend to take care of the job as well. 

But, no. 

Instead, whilst listening out for the ghosts, Lockwood stepped around a corner and when getting ready to attack what he thought was a ghost, he was met with a punch to the face and then a voice calling out; “Oh my god, you’re human.”

“Do you make a habit of punching ghosts?”

Then, through watered eyes, he saw the outline of the person who had punched him and it seemed she had clear enough vision in the dark to recognise him. 

“Lockwood?”

“Wait.” he knew that voice. “Y/n?”

“Holy crap. I am so sorry. Are you okay? Wait. Why are you even here?”

“The same as you, I’m guessing. Unless you tend to sneak into abandoned buildings at two in the morning.”

“Sophie didn’t even tell me they hired someone else. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Lockwood managed to stand up straight this time just as Lucy and George came running round the corner. 

“We heard a scream.”

“What’s going on?”

George looked from Lockwood to you. “Y/n?”

“Hi, George.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“She was hired.” Lockwood explained just before Lucy spotted him. 

“Holy crap, are you okay?”

Lockwood nodded. “Just a little stunned.”

“I really am sorry.”

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” Lockwood said, with a slight smile as he looked at you. 

Then came a scream. 

“Considering we’re all here and considering no-one else was hired to do this job-” George began. 

“That wasn’t a human.” Lucy finished. 

“And since we’re here with minimal weapons.”

One of the ghosts, a woman, came floating through a wall and turned to look at them. 

“Run?” you offered. 

“Run.” Lucy replied. 

Making a break for it, you all tried to outrun the ghost before another one of her friends joined her, pushing all four of you down a different corridor. 

“I’m Lucy, by the way.”

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

By the time the sun was beginning to rise over the city, you all made it back to Portland Row where a fresh bruise had made its way to decorate Lockwood’s face. 

“You have a hell of a punch.” Lockwood said before prodding his own bruise in his reflection of the pan on the stove. 

You chuckled, pulling a bag of peas from the freezer before closing it and walking over. “Quit moaning. It could have been worse. Here.”

Standing, Lockwood seemed to have grown even taller than you. Taller than when you’d both last met. 

Looking at you, you watched as his eyes closed at the cold contact of the bag as you pressed it to his face. 

“Hold it there for a while. It should help with the swelling.”

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this.”

You narrowed your gaze a little and clicked your tongue. “You’ve already used that line.”

“Have I?” Lockwood seemed to think for a moment before, “Oh, yeah. Suppose I have. But it is true.”

“Hey, the first time was an accident. I thought you were trying to-”

“The first time is an accident, three times is a pattern.”

You smiled sheepishly. “An accidental pattern.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes.” you said before, “Maybe? Can never be too careful when hunting alone.”

Lockwood’s demeanour changed for a moment. “Alone? You’re hunting alone again?”

“Relax. I’m safe enough.” 

You moved backwards and began to tidy the kitchen a little to give yourself something to do whilst Lockwood leaned back against the kitchen counter, lowering the frozen bag from his face so he could watch you more closely. 

“Are you?”

“Yes, Lockwood. I’m fine. Honestly, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

You held his gaze for a moment, a million thoughts running through your head until it landed on He’s just a friend…

From there, you shifted yourself from the kitchen table and placed the empty glasses in your hand in the sink beside him. 

“Move here.”

“What?”

Lockwood stood tall once more and turned to face you properly. “Move in here. Lucy got a deal when she bought her bed, so she’s got a second one spare. We can set it up on the other side of the loft. I don’t like the thought of you hunting alone.”

“Lockwood, I said I’m fine.”

“What happens if something happens to you? Look, I can put you on the payroll so it won’t be a favour. You’ll be working with us. And you’ll have a team behind you. You’ll also be safe. Please.”

“Lockwood-”

“Please.”

Looking up at him, you saw the desperation in his eyes. 

It wasn’t often he opened himself up or let himself show any kind of vulnerability but when he did…

“Okay. Fine. But you can’t hover over me.”

“I don’t hover.”

“You hover.”

“No I don’t.” 

“Why did George kick you out of the Archive room in the last case we were in together?”

Lockwood thought back and when he didn’t answer, you answered for him. 

“Because you hover.”

“Okay, maybe I hover a little.”

“But before anything is written, the others have to agree. Lucy, too.”

“She will. I know so. It’ll be nice for her to not be outnumbered.”

You moved in three days later.

Lucy had prepared the spare bed for you and even decorated the walls behind your bed with a couple of pictures she found in some old boxes that had yourself, George and Lockwood in them. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want to do, but I thought I would do something to help at least.”

“I love it.” you smiled, dropping one of the boxes onto your bed. “Thank you.”

Over the following week, yourself and Lucy got to know one another, sharing stories late into the night when researching cases and in desperate need of a break. 

Lucy came to learn what Lockwood meant by the punch when you all met not being the first time. You came to find out what brought Lucy to London. And you both came to discover that, with the right planning, you could both scare Lockwood and George. 

Only, one night, George and Lucy decided to tag team which also gave them a chance to talk about you and Lockwood. 

“Do they know? They have to know.”

“Don’t bother.” George sighed. “Three years and nothing has changed.”

“They’ve been like that for three years?”

George just nodded. 

“Seriously?”

“You know I walked into the kitchen yesterday and they were slow dancing in the kitchen and…it was like nothing happened.”

“Yeah…” 

“What?”

“What?” Lucy asked. 

“Your face. You have that…look.”

“What look?”

“The “I’m making a plan” face.”

“Maybe because I am.”

“Well then?”

“What if we tried?”

“I already have.”

“Maybe,” Lucy nodded. “But that was then. Now you’ve got me. Tag-team. What do you say?”

“Well, considering it would take an earthquake to wake them both up from whatever coma they’ve convinced themselves that they’re in…sure. Why not? But how.”

“I haven’t got that far into the plan yet.”

But it didn’t take too long. 

After six months of living with each other, the plan practically made itself. The chemistry between yourself and Lockwood was palpable and even more so when you were outside together. 

Like when you and Lockwood were in the library with George and Lucy where Lockwood was standing behind you, reading the section of paper you were pointing to, his arms caging you in from where you sat, when a group of Fittes Agents waltzed over. 

“You might want to give your girlfriend a little breathing room, Tony. After all, PDA can be off putting especially in such a public place.”

Standing, and not denying it, Lockwood practically burned Kipps a hole in the ground for him to fall through. 

“Relax, Tony. Just having a little fun. So, are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Kipps couldn’t help but widen his smile. “You’re not. Well then, Tony.”

However, you were up like a shot standing beside Lockwood. “But I would be very careful in your next choice of words. He might not be my boyfriend but he is my friend.”

Closer up, Kipps seemed to recognise you. Or at least, that’s what his face told you. 

“You know, for all the people in the world, I wouldn't have considered one of the best rogue agents being best buddies with our very own Anthony Lockwood.”

“And why not?”

“Although, rogue is very fitting for Tony. After all, it was breaking the rules that got him into trouble in the first place. Sweetheart, if I were you, I’d walk away whilst you still can.”

The only thing anyone could remember was hearing the contact of your palm across Kipps’ cheek and the red mark left in its place. 

“Fuck you.”

It took a moment to get over the shock before Kipps and his team walked away and you relaxed a little before grabbing your jacket and telling the others you’d be back. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine, Lockwood. I’ll be back in five.”

It was in those five minutes that one of Kipps’ team found you by the vending machine. 

“I’m sorry about what he said.”

“Why? You didn’t say it. And I’m guessing you’re assigned to be with him.”

“Still, I could have said something to stop him and I didn’t.”

“Something tells me even if you did, he still would have said it anyway.”

“Maybe.”

“What’s your name?”

“Victor.”

“Nice to meet you,Victor.”

Meanwhile, across the room and up a level, Lucy spotted you talking to Victor. Even laughing every once in a while. And when Lockwood joined her, she saw the pain in his eyes before a brick wall came up. 

“We should be getting ready. George found something. I’ll be back in a minute.”

For the rest of the day, Lockwood seemed closed up. Especially towards you. 

“What is your problem?” you eventually asked him. 

“Nothing.”

“Lockwood, I heard you snap at Lucy earlier.”

“She made a mistake.”

“Exactly,” you cut him off. “A mistake. And she’s never made one before.”

“One that could have put one of us in serious danger-”

“We were outside the perimeter.” You could have laughed, until Lockwood asked you a question you weren't expecting. 

“Do you like him?”

“Who?”

“The guy you were talking to earlier.”

“Kipps? You did see me slap him, didn’t you-”

“Not Kipps. Vinny. Or Vincent or…whatever his name is.”

You thought back for a moment. “Victor.”

Lockwood nodded. 

“Do I like him? What are we? 12?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to know if you’re fraternising with the enemy.”

You laughed. “Fraternizing?”

But when Lockwood didn’t change, you did. 

“You know what, fuck you, Lockwood. What I do with my time outside of work is no concern to you. You know what, do this yourself. I’ll go and help George.”

A few minutes later, Lucy walked inside the room to a very grumpy Lockwood. 

“What the hell did you do? Fraternising? This isn’t Bridgerton, Lockwood.”

“Will you just help with the set-up?”

Sighing, Lucy did as she was told, but not before telling Lockwood a couple things he desperately needed to hear. 

“You’re gonna lose her.”

“What?”

Picking up some of the iron chains and laying them down, Lucy explained. “It might not be Victor, but one day it will be someone. And it probably won’t be long before they come along and whisk her away from your grumpy arse because you’re too stubborn to tell her the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That you like her. Love her, even. If my gut feeling is right. And it usually is.”

“Lucy-”

“Look, you can go on being an arsehole because you’re scared. Or you can talk to her. All I’m saying is do something about it before somebody else does. Both me and George have seen the way you look at her. It’s more than you want to admit, Lockwood. But one day you’re going to have to, or else you are going to lose her and all you’ll have is a bruised eye and a broken nose once every couple of years, if that.”

Lucy didn’t say anything else after that but Lockwood did apologise for snapping at her earlier which she forgave him for after calling him a frustrating bastard. From then, she watched as you all completed the job together and that look that she often saw in Lockwood’s eyes, returned when he looked at you. 

Yet, by the time you had all gotten home, he still hadn't apologised to you. So, with a hard nudge from Lucy, Lockwood finally made his way to find you. 

“Do something before somebody else does, and that includes apologising. And she’s in the Library. Goodnight.”

Lockwood stood outside of the Library door for a while, trying his best to find the right words so he wouldn’t end up with a broken nose, despite how much he probably deserved one. 

You had lit the fire to try and cancel out the cold that had seeped in through a forgotten open window, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was midnight, not 6 in the morning. 

“Hey.”

Looking behind you, you tried your best not to roll your eyes at Lockwood as he walked inside. 

“I’m just looking over some old cases. Just so you know that I’m not fraternising with the enemy by reading a book.”

“I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Lockwood began. “I shouldn’t have said it at all. I just…I guess I panicked.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it.”

“You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

You looked at him.

“Really, really sorry. For the fraternising comment and the bullshit excuse.”

You took a minute and it was the longest minute of his life. 

“Okay, guess I can forgive you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know, that’s why I forgave you. But a cup of tea wouldn’t hurt.”

Lockwood smiled. “Okay. One tea coming up.”

Only, as he walked away, you answered his question. 

“And I’m not…fraternising with the enemy. Victor and I were just talking. I think you’d like him. I think he might hate Kipps just as much as you do. And, no.” you shook your head. “I don’t like him. Just so you know…”

Lockwood nodded and for a moment, turned to walk away until Lucy’s words echoed again in his head. 

“Do something about it, before somebody else does.”

So he did. 

Sighing under his breath, he took the jump, turned around and reached for you. 

Taking your head in his hands, he cupped your jaw before bringing your lips to his. At first, it shocked you and for a split second, he thought he was about to get his nose broken for good this time. 

Until you kissed back. 

You felt yourself stumble a little but Lockwood caught you, holding you close to him before his forehead came to touch yours, your eyes still closed. 

“Wow.”

“I’m sorry but I just had to-”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologise.”

“No?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “No.”

“So you’re not going to break my nose.”

“Not this time,” you laughed a little. 

“Okay…then I’m gonna jump. I like you. Well, I more than like you. Like way, way more. And I…I want to do something about it before someone else does.”

“Like Victor?”

“Yeah,” Lockwood laughed a little. “Like Victor.”

“Then…good. I’m glad you finally jumped.”

“You are.”

You nodded. “I mean, you have terrible timing but yeah, I’m glad you jumped.”

“Good.”

“Good. Now, are you gonna kiss me again or am I gonna have to-”

Lockwood didn’t need telling twice. 

[astrumark]

── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

[yoongihan]

Vigilant(e) - Rebuttal - MYG (1/3)

pairing: yoongi x femreader

genre: vigilante au, lawyer au, rivals to lovers

word count: 4.3k

rating: M

warnings: language (the f-word mostly), kissing (not quite smut but I feel like they would if they could), violence (not between our leads), a little blood mention, discussion of law and justice, rhapsodizing about the min yoongi,

a/n: i like to lay blame where it is due: so I blame @raplinesmoon for flooding my dash of yoongi in that final concert. I blame @jl-micasea-fics for the prompt that set this in motion. I blame @seokjinger-ale and @hannahbee12719 for telling me I should write yoongi again. i blame Greedy for the appearance of a diner because that's a top tier yoongi fic. i blame yoongi for looking like he does, performing like he does and just in general being what he is. and I blame myself for have no power to withstand any of the above. I have not written for this man in well over a year and if that means the following is a bit rusty, my apologies. i am not a lawyer, just the daughter of one, and the sister of one; I probably misrepresent the jargon and life of a lawyer so many apologies for that. also if there are any typos or mistakes, I'm sorry. i tried my best to find them.

a/n 2: i might have an idea for a part two.

prompt used

Person A: "Why did you save me?" Person B: "Honestly, if I had known it was you beforehand, I probably wouldn't have."

masterlist

series masterlist

Part 1 (of 3) - Rebuttal

—-----

It’s not tunnel-vision (or maybe it is, you’re not sure you know the definition), but when you are in THAT mode, you see only what is necessary. Your brain predicts the possible outcomes and you follow the one with the least damage and best chances of saving the person in trouble. 

You don’t really see faces.

Maybe your therapist would have something to analyze if she knew that, but you tend to keep the other part of your life secret from everyone, and that includes your therapist. 

Your therapist is probably bored, honestly. 

It’s a typical evening in your life. You’ve finished work hours, dealt with depositions, met with a few witnesses, and held your tongue when the District Attorney asks you to do something clearly under his job description, not yours. You don’t have court tomorrow, just more research, so you change into your coveralls, slip a medical-grade mask on, and your favorite blue beanie. 

You have a police scanner in your car, but you opt just to carry it with you in your backpack. One earbud in and you just look like a very sketchy person out for a walk, listening to music or the latest podcast. 

The police scanner isn’t the greatest of ways to get information. You usually encounter situations by pure happenstance and tonight is no different.

It’s raised voices. 

It’s not the worst part of the city that you’re in, but it isn’t exactly the best either. The apartment complex in front of you needs work, but it’s also free of metal bars on first-level windows or barbed wire, so that’s a plus. 

You pause when you hear. You take out the earbud and listen a bit longer. Sometimes yelling is just yelling. It doesn’t require an intervention of any kind. Early on in doing this thing that you do at night, you have definitely interrupted interactions that did not need your assistance.

Good thing the mask hides your embarrassment. 

You discern mostly one voice, male, that is the loudest. There are other male voices…two more. One is a bit reedy, a little concerned. The other is the lowest register, scratchy, but calm. 

“Fuck you!”

Which again, doesn’t mean you should intervene. But the sound you hear after that does.

A punch doesn’t sound like it does in the movies. You saw somewhere that sound effects people tend to use steak to make the sound of flesh being pummeled.

Seems like a waste of meat. 

The real thing is muted, and if you weren’t a several-year pro at this, the sound wouldn’t raise alarm.

But there are two in rapid succession and that springs you into action. 

It’s down the alley next to the apartment complex, basically the back entrance, you assume. 

Three men. And it’s easy to see who is who. The yeller is the one throwing punches. The reedy-voiced one is trying to hold him back. The calm one is the one attempting to avoid the hits, but isn’t retaliating. 

You don’t even ask, you just swoop in.

Removing the reedy one is easy. You tug him back with one grab of his arm. He stumbles out of the way. 

Which does announce your arrival and stops the instigator from throwing another hit. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have a particularly overt feminine voice, but it does help the whole process if they don’t suspect that you are a female. Usually. 

The yeller leaves the man he’s just been attacking and starts to swing at you. It’s easy again. Real fighting is not the beautiful choreography seen on screens. It’s slower, especially if there’s no training involved. 

You’ve been trained, but your opponent definitely has not.

You dodge a few of the incoming swipes before landing a solid to his gut. This causes him to keel over, effectively inactive for several seconds. This gives you time to grab him right above his elbow, thumb pushing against that pressure point. 

His scream is satisfying, but that’s not something you tell your therapist. 

“Hey, hey,” you hear behind you. “Let him go. He’s….just let him go.” 

The attacker is begging the same thing, but you listen to the voice behind you. You shove the attacker away, who is immediately helped up by his friend, and with some not-so-creative threats toward you, they hurry off. 

“Well.” 

You turn around, breathing a little heavily because a fight isn’t always your daily norm. Sometimes it’s just helping someone across the street. Or distracting a would-be assault-er. Sometimes your nights are just long walks with no action at all.

Your tunnel vision now focuses on who you just saved. 

Your damsel in distress is several things:

Not a damsel (would have been impressive with such a low voice).

Not especially tall (taller than you, but no one would give this guy a basketball scholarship).

Has long hair (Longer than yours, but you keep yours really short for ease, and this whole night-time-save-people thing you do). 

Is going to have a few marks in the morning from where his attacker was successful. (You only notice because it’s a really nice face you’re looking at).

Is Min Yoongi. 

“I needed him to agree to come in so I could depose him for a case.” There’s a long sigh. “Not sure he’ll do it now.”

Defense attorney, Min Yoongi. The man on the other side of the courtroom. The one who remains calm in practically any situation. Who smirks when his team is getting the best of the State with his loopholes and questionable interpretations of the law. 

Basically, the person your boss hates more than anyone else.

You don’t mean to, but you say his name.

The eyebrows raise. “You know me?”

Quickly you try and keep your voice low (not as low as his, nor as pretty…objectively). “Who doesn’t?”

You’ll give credit. He’s an excellent lawyer and though the media does like to write about him when he wins a case, or loses; he doesn’t seek it out. Not that you can see. While other defense attorneys are often caught out living it up with their ridiculous amounts of money from exorbitant fees, Min Yoongi seems pretty private. 

You also know he does pro bono work because you might have researched him once. Or twice. 

Once for your boss to find something to discredit him. Twice because you sometimes can’t help yourself finding out more of someone’s story. 

Despite the fact that blood is trickling from his eyebrow (the attacker had on a few rings), Yoongi looks very nonplussed as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

You pull your backpack off one shoulder to swing it around and open it. You have a veritable first aid kid in there; along with pepper spray, mace, and various other dissuaders. 

You take out a clean tissue and reach for the wound before stilling when he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Can I?”

Fuck, you forgot to keep your voice low. 

He nods and you dab away the blood carefully. 

“You’re Anon, right?”

Your nightly activities are sometimes reported and the press has given you a moniker - Anonymous, or Anon.

It’s better than anything you could have come up with. 

“That was hardly a life-threatening altercation,” he continues as you draw away to find a bandage. “Why did you ‘save’ me?” He even uses the finger quotation marks. 

It makes you bristle. You can’t help it. 

As you apply the bandage over the eyebrow cut, you respond with some annoyance, “Honestly, if I had known it was you beforehand, I probably wouldn't have.”

He laughs. Outright and very loudly before covering his mouth. You back up, closing your bag and righting it on your shoulders again. 

“Okay, then. Anon.” He meets your eyes and you look away. Most people you interact with like this don’t look too closely, but you know how smart this man is. You don’t need him to get a good look (thank goodness for crappy streetlights that barely work) at your eyes. “I guess you know me better than most.”

He touches the bandage gingerly before dropping his hand. 

“Be careful,” you grumble before starting to retreat because retreat is very very necessary right now. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I probably won’t.” 

You look back at him for that comment and he’s doing that smirk again. The one you’ve seen multiple times in the courtroom. That you’ve been on the receiving end of a few times when you’ve taken to questioning the defendant or witness. 

“Thanks, though.”

You get the fuck out of there.

—

It’s months later. After winning one case and losing two others (you don’t mind losing cases if you believe that the defendant is innocent, or that the evidence doesn’t add up, but that doesn’t hold water with your boss; a perfect record should be attained always), you are making an appearance at a charity function because someone from the DA’s office should be there and everyone else has excuses before you can come up with one. 

So here you are, listening to people with a lot more money than you talk about reforms needed for the city, how citizens should abide by the laws, and more money should be funneled into programs to clean up the streets. 

“Or we could just fund programs that actually help those who need it.”

You didn’t see him come up next to you. His voice is quiet enough that the speaker at the podium wouldn’t notice. In fact no one around you seems to care that Min Yoongi has just approached you even though there can’t be anything you two have in common; opposites sides of the legal system obviously. 

You just stare at him, a champagne flute in your hand that is only half full because you don’t like champagne but it’s the only thing at this event that seemed acceptable to drink without resorting to just chugging water. He doesn’t smile at you though the corner of his mouth is lifted slightly like he’s amused. 

Again, it’s definitely an expression you’ve seen in the courtroom.

One of those losing cases was against Min Yoongi. One of the ones you were sure the defendant was telling the truth. But you can’t say that. Because admitting that failure was the correct judgement would be weakness.

Sometimes you wish you heard someone else’s voice in your head other than your boss’s. 

“I don’t think I’m the person to tell that to,” you say, hopefully as softly. “I’m not in charge.”

He stands next to you, facing the stage, almost mirroring your posture; though he has a tumbler of whiskey instead of champagne. 

“You’re exactly the person to tell it to,” he says, leaning a little closer so you can hear him clearly. 

Min Yoongi is attractive. It’s an objective fact. You’re pretty sure that’s why the press enjoys writing about him because he looks good in his lawyer suits. The hair a little too long to be conventionally professional. The sharp jawline in contrast with round cheeks. The sharp sharp eyes that are so dark against his skin. 

Does the journalists know that he smells good too?

That’s new information for you as you have never been this close to him. Minus that night you saved him but there was blood and sweat and general dirty alley scents to mar whatever cologne he prefers. 

“I don’t follow,” you reply. “You know where I am in the hierarchy of this city and the DA’s office.”

The speaker at the podium has finished his talk and the hired band starts to play something that feels more jazzy than current. Yoongi turns slightly toward you and you can’t help but meet his gaze. 

“I do. You do good work there,” he says as he tucks one hand in the pocket of his suit pants before taking a sip of his drink. “Subscribing to the letter of the law, upholding it and every governmental branch that it includes.”

Does he have to sound so mocking?

“If we don’t put faith in our laws, it’d be chaos.”

“I mean, true…” The beginning of the smirk shows up. “But sometimes, the law is a bit restricting, don’t you think?”

You can feel the flare of your nostrils. “Rules are. That’s the point. Justice needs parameters, and it’s our job to make sure justice is served…properly.”

He grins and it blinds you just a bit. 

“Yeah? So, taking matters into your own hands…outside of the police, the courtroom, the local government…that would be wrong?”

Oh fuck. Abort. Abort. 

“Of course.” You take a step back. “Nice to see you, Attorney Min, outside the courtroom, but I have to go.”

You turn and flee the scene as best you can in your sensible heels. You’ve been at this function for nearly two hours. That’s enough time to present a good face for the DA’s office. Time to go home and curl up on the couch to watch the most recent episode of the coziest anime. 

You’re outside the ballroom, coat attained from coat check, and you’re filling in the information on your phone for an Uber when you feel a hand brush your elbow. 

“Let me give you a ride home.”

You shake your head, not looking at him. “I’m good.”

He says your name in his lawyer voice; firm and assertive as though nothing can sway his opinion. 

“No thank you.”

“Anon.”

Your head shoots up from staring at your phone before you can tell yourself to ignore it. He doesn’t look amused anymore. He looks lethal.

“If not a ride home, then something to eat.”

“We just…” your voice is shuddery and you hate yourself for it. “There was food in there.” You point to the ballroom.

He snorts. “I mean real food. The diner two blocks over? You know it?”

Of course, you do. It’s your favorite. 

But you just nod and he gestures for you both to head that way. 

It’s quiet for several minutes, minus the passing cars and people out and about at nine p.m. on a Saturday. 

Your brain isn’t quiet. It’s racing. Trying to figure out how to save this. Save your identity. Save the one thing that you do that feels like it makes an impact because your work at the DA’s office can quite often feel like trying to carry sand in a colander - futile. 

“Attorney Min.”

“I think you can call me Yoongi.” He doesn’t look at you, but opens the door to let you walk into the diner first. You return the wave of one of the servers who recognizes you before finding a booth and easing yourself in (you’ve never been here with a floor-length dress and heels on before). 

He slides in across from you as you’re both greeted with menus and full plastic glasses of water. 

The server, Bora who is working here to get through her associate's degree for accounting, asks if you want your regular.

Yoongi looks at you with pure amusement. “Your regular?”

You shrug. “Burger and shake.”

“What kind?”

“Chocolate malt.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have that too.” He hands back the menu to Bora and waits until she’s gone before speaking again. “So.”

You know how smart Min Yoongi is so you don’t try to deny it or evade.

“I won’t do it anymore. You can’t prove it.”

The eyebrows raise. “Prove what?”

You close your eyes, annoyed and frustrated. “You know what.” 

You hear movement and open your eyes to see that he’s leaned more across the table. 

From this close, you can see a little bit of a scar from where he’d bled that night. 

“Do you think I’m gonna blackmail you?”

“Aren’t you? Why else say anything?”

He sits back at regards you with those eyes for several seconds. You take a long sip of your water. 

“What’s the end goal?” he asks. “Either you get found out or you get hurt or you get killed.”

You’ve thought of that. You’ve thought about that a lot. 

“I know.” You fiddle with the straw. “I thought it’d be just once or twice, but…”

“Doing good is addictive.”

You stare at him, thinking that he seems very sure of this. “Doing good?”

“You think I’m going to say that you shouldn’t do what you’re doing? I mean, yeah, it’s completely risky and the result will probably end in one of those three ways, but you’re doing good things.”

No one knowing about your secret is the right thing for everyone. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t lonely. Getting injured because you didn’t watch the hit coming, suffering through only a few hours of sleep sometimes and having no one to talk about it with…is very lonely. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles a little as your shakes are delivered and you ask Bora how classes are. She updates you briefly. If Yoongi wasn’t here, she’d be way more detailed. 

“But you’re on a date, so next time,” she says and leaves before you can correct her. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins without so much as a response to the ‘date’ comment. “It’s antithetical to your real job. Doing something outside the law.” 

It’s fascinating how neither of you has actually spelled out the secret. 

“Yeah…I know.”

“I mean…it’s why I didn’t believe it at first. Not you. The assistant DA who challenges every line of questioning I start.”

“Not every one.”

“Okay, 90% then.” He has a warm smile like this. Twinkling eyes when he takes his first sip of the shake. “I’ve never had a shake here before. I’ve been missing out.”

If this was a date, you’d talk about how you’ve tried all the options they have on the menu and how the chocolate malt is by far superior and that it’s always the perfect smoothness and sweetness. 

Shouldn’t think of this as a date, though. That’s dangerous. 

“I do believe in following the letter of the law…but…”

“But?” His eyes still sparkle but he’s not drinking right now. He’s looking at you. 

“It’s made by humans. And we never get it perfect or right. We just sometimes miss the mark.”

“So you became a vigilante.”

Not that you didn’t know that he knew (why else has this night even ended up like this?) but the words are so powerful and you feel frozen. 

“I guess.”

He says your name again and you thaw some. “I’m not going to blackmail you. Or say anything.”

That confession takes several seconds to process.

“Why not?”

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, but Bora is back with your burgers. Some quick chit-chat chat and then you see Yoongi take a bite and nearly have a transcendent experience.

“Fuck, that’s really good.”

It’s weirdly validating. To have the Min Yoongi think your food choices are good. 

He gets back to your question.

“We are on the same side, you know.”

“I think that we’re fundamentally not.”

“We are. I know what it’s like in the courtroom. We are enemies, I seek to represent my client in their best interests and you represent the law. I know.” He glances away for a second. “But it’s justice, right?”

“But you and your team constantly twist the law and–”

“Because sometimes compassion is needed. Grace and mercy. That’s still justice. Just a different side to it.”

It floors you. Not that you haven’t wanted to give someone a second chance, even those you oppose in the courtroom, but you’ve never heard it said like that. 

You focus on your food, a bit jumpy from everything. “How did you figure it out?”

“That it was you?” You can hear his confidence and it’s both annoying and really attractive. “Your voice. Your height. The fact that your makeup sometimes doesn’t cover a bruise on your leg.”

Who looks at your legs that much?

You hear him move again and reluctantly look up. He’s watching you carefully. 

“Your eyes mostly.”

“My eyes.”

He nods. 

“In movies, the eyes show all the time and no one figures it out.”

He scoffs. “Okay, in movies, most people are dumb. Actually, in life, most people are dumb.” He pauses, pressing his lips together before speaking again. “And most people don’t pay attention.”

“You pay attention?”

“You know I do.”

“I know you do because you find every possible weakness in my arguments to pounce upon and destroy.”

He laughs and props his chin on his hand. “Absolutely. But that isn’t all I pay attention to.” 

Logically, that follows, but you’re a little nervous to see where this path leads. 

“It isn’t?” But you’re curious and you prefer the truth over anything, so you’ll just continue down this trajectory even if it ends in flames. 

The laugh fades, but he still looks happy. The chocolate malt is amazing, but you don’t think it’s that happiness-inducing. 

“I pay attention to you. Both professionally and…” He straightens and scratches the back of his head, looking for less like Attorney Min and more just…Yoongi. “Less professionally.”

Between your daily job and your nightly job, you don’t have much time for dating. And despite it being 2023, you’ve found that men are still intimidated by a professional woman, especially a lawyer. 

So you don’t think about it much. 

And yes, you have eyes and have seen Min Yoongi so you know he’s attractive and may or may not have starred in a dream or two, but that’s dreams. You’ve had dreams about the man who lives two doors down from you and he’s sixty-five and not your type. 

“Less professionally.” Your brain is so overwhelmed that all you can do is repeat his words.

His smile turns wry. “I wouldn’t mind if this,” He gestures to the table and the diner, “is an actual date.” 

He looks a little shy, which is a version of Min Yoongi you’ve never seen. The faint pink in his cheeks, the softer eyes; the fidgety hands. 

You’ve had a lot to process tonight and it takes you several seconds to respond. 

“I wouldn’t mind either.”

You do let Min Yoongi drive you home. He even walks you up to your third-floor apartment, chatting about getting to see his alma mater’s basketball game in two days, why Marvel movies no longer excite him as much as they did, and what kind of ramen he ate for two weeks straight when studying for the Bar Exam. 

“It’s good,” he insists as you slow down in front of your door. “It was. I can’t even look at a package of it anymore without war flashbacks and nausea.” 

“My comfort food was pop-tarts. And I still like them for some reason.”

“What flavor?” he asks stopping behind you as you unlock your door.

“Strawberry…or blueberry.”

“What? Not cinnamon or smores? What kind of lawless heathen are you?”

You laugh (not the first time tonight, you should have known that all those smarts of his would make him funny too) and turn back around to see his mock-horrified expression. 

“If it’s fruit-flavored it’s better for you, right?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.” Then his smile drops a bit as does his gaze to his feet. “So…I guess I’ll see you later?” His head pops up then. “Are you…I guess, patrolling tonight?”

You shake your head. “One, is that a Buffy reference?”

“Yes,” he says without a hint of shame. 

How on earth did he get more attractive? 

“Two, my feet hurt.”

He winces in sympathy.

“And three, I have to be alert and well, this entire evening has made my brain really really hazy at this point. So it’d be stupid for me to go out like this.”

He nods, taking a step closer to you. “Makes sense. I wouldn’t ask you not to. I have absolutely no right to do so.” He looks up at you (your heels definitely give you a little height) and to add to your night of shocks, the way he looks at you is staggering. “But if you do, or when you do, can you let me know? Like occasionally check in so I know you’re okay.”

It’s a lot, really. To go from thinking someone hates you or is at least unimpressed by you to realizing that you’re cared for, and thought of. Especially when you find you feel the same way. 

“I will.” You fiddle with your clutch purse. “It’d be nice to know someone is out there…paying attention.”

“Less professionally,” he repeats.

You chuckle. “Less professionally.”

There’s a pause in conversation, but it’s not quiet. You swear you can hear your heartbeat and the crackle of something in the air. 

“I want to kiss you.”

You meet his eyes and try not to melt. “I’m okay with that.”

Kissing Min Yoongi is a bit like your night job. You are hyper-aware (his hands on your waist, fingers digging in when you open your mouth; the sounds of his breaths, one low moan that you feel all over; how he tastes like chocolate malt), a bit nervous (first kisses are normally so awkward, but this…this is probably what inspires poets), and have to be ready to adapt (when he leaves your mouth and nips at your jaw and neck, you almost ask him to come in). 

He draws back too soon, but it’s a delight to see the flushed color of his skin, lips swollen from your mouth; his hair, already wavy, now even more tousled. 

“Let me know when you aren’t working…either job,” he whispers. “We’ll go out.”

“Or stay in.”

The awareness in his eyes makes your body even more tense, like any second you’ll snap like a broken guitar string. “Or stay in.” 

It’s another soft kiss before he lets you go. 

“Good night, Attorney Min.”

“Night, Anon.” 

--

Part 2

--

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. bts belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[hauntedhokage]

Day 3: Bondage & Tit Fucking

Geto Suguru/F!Reader

word count: 567

warnings: bondage, tit fucking, D/s dynamic (kinda), 

Kinktober 2024 on ao3

“Look at you, all wrapped up like a pretty little present.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he’s looking at you. He always had that smirk on his face, smug and basking in his victory despite the contradictory look in his eye that spoke the adoration that he held for you. If you could see you know you’d feel the warmth of his smile bring a new warmth to your skin, but since you’re blindfolded you feel more shut off from him than warmed by him. “I did a good job earlier, huh?”

“And then you left me here.”

“Fifteen minutes to handle business, my dear. Though I understand it probably felt longer without having your vision.” You feel his hand on your head, gentle pressure urging you to tilt your head back to look up at him, something you wished you could do. He always looked so pretty when you were being good for him. “Maybe next time I’ll just bring my business to you, show whoever is interrupting my time with you exactly what they’re missing out on.”

“You don’t like sharing.”

Your statement is followed by a hiss when you feel cool liquid against your chest, followed by his hands massaging it into your skin. You knew what was coming, he only tired you up like this when he wanted something specific, and you push your chest out to the best of your ability to better present yourself to him. 

The “good girl” you hear is almost drowned out by the sound of his robes dropping to the floor around you, but sends a shiver down your spine as being a good girl was exactly what you wanted to be for him. The acknowledgment makes you feel warm, a fire lit in your core that you couldn’t tend to with your hands bound at your sides. 

“Did such a good job getting me hard earlier, sweetheart. Now you get to finish the job.”

He’s careful as he gets you onto your back, your body pliant to his wishes you ensure you weren’t hurt while he moved you around. A brief check in before he’s got you trapped beneath him, his weight held up by his knees that are pushing your arms into your body, more oil drizzled over your aching breasts, then you feel his tip poking at the seam created by your breasts being bound together. 

Suguru was never quiet in bed, and this would be no different. You relished in his soft groans and words of praise, honey smooth in your ears as he slides his cock between your breasts. He’s careful about how he fucks you; hands carefully groping your bound breasts to apply more pressure around his cock, making sure not to lean too far forward and put too much of his weight on your torso - exactly what you expect from him and why you trusted him so dearly with your body while you were bound and blindfolded. 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart, feel so good,” he moans, a pinch and tug to your pert nipple has you whining but he only tugs a bit harder with an amused chuckle at the way you squirm a little bit at his actions. “Your beautiful body was made for me, my love. And you let me do whatever I want with you, because you love me don’t you?”

[kairiscorner]

hi! i saw fic requests were open but you absolutely don’t have to do this one if you’d don’t like it. i mainly wanted to get this idea out of my head so hope you at least enjoy reading it!

Maybe E-42!Miles meeting their future s/o through his Uncle Aaron? Aaron’s been complaining about his car for some time but neither he nor Miles have been able to look into the issue since they’ve been busy with Prowler stuff. One day Aaron suddenly stops complaining about his car and even looks happy about it. When Aaron brings Miles to a new auto shop he found, the intern mechanic had to try to fix Aaron’s car since everyone else was busy and turns out the girl is a natural at fixing cars. She ended up saving Aaron a good chunk of money and Miles even realizes this new mechanic is a real quiet girl from his classes that he didn’t notice since the girl tended to blend into the background.

HELLOOOOO I LOVE THAT THOUGH WHAT !! i'm not exactly a miles 42 simp, BUT I WILL GLADLY WRITE THIS YEEEEE (i'm craving to write more for him ngl, maybe i will !!)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

she's really something else — miles 42 x fem!reader

summary: you were extremely cool, being able to fix his uncle's car's issue in a flash while also being super cute in his eyes–man, you make him forget all the lessons his uncle gave him about impressing girls, you make him feel so... foolish and in love. word count: 511

miles was sitting down on a chair by the mechanic's garage, waiting for the repair person to get there. his uncle aaron had been complaining about his car's condition for quite some time now, and just recently did he start lightening up about it, after he found out about a mechanic nearby that didn't charge too much.

not long after, a girl in the mechanic's uniform came in with tools and dirty gloves and a pair of goggles on her head. she immediately got to work on uncle aaron's car. "tio, this girl's the mechanic you found?" he asked his uncle and looked at him quizzically, to which the latter responded with a nod. "a natural, ain't she?" he asked miles with a grin as miles nodded back. "i mean, she's getting the job of two people done way faster." he pointed out as the girl came out from underneath the car in an instant.

uncle aaron and miles went over to her as she explained what issues she saw with the car and what might need to be fixed next time. miles caught himself staring at her and only realized he was when he thought to himself how familiar this girl seemed, but she also didn't seem like an acquaintance of his. he had to admit, though, she was a real cutie–a smart, talented, quick to work cutie.

his uncle aaron glanced at miles and nudged at his arm. "y'know her? your eyes are saying so." he teased miles as he shook his head and shrugged. "i know i've seen her before at school, never talked to her though." he said briefly as his uncle called her over. miles' eyes widened as she turned around and made eye contact with the two. "this is my nephew, miles, miles morales. he attends brooklyn visions academy, too–your boss said you're from there, yeah?" he asked her as she nodded and got a good look at miles.

"yeah, i know you." she said briefly with a crooked smile which miles reciprocated with his own widening one. he tried to play it cool though, as his uncle aaron always taught him, but it was so hard to do when miles was face to face with such a cool and cute girl. "i'll be right back, gotta talk to your boss real quick. miles, keep her company for a little bit." his uncle said as he walked off, with miles stuttering and stammering a reply his uncle couldn't hear as he left.

you took off your goggles to get a better look at him, which made miles a little more flustered because your eyes underneath just looked so adorable. you introduced yourself to him, and miles blurted out, "ah, yeah, i remember your name." "you do?" you asked with a hint of curiosity as miles' eyes widened and he tried to calm down again. "y-yeah. i do." he stuttered, which made you smile wider. man, was he a sucker for that smile... no wonder he fell so hard for you and wanted to be yours.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @zalayni @fiannee @anikaluv @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @maxoloqy @solecitoszn @luvstarrstruck