#as an old man simp i wish he looked old | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesmutsideblog · 2 years ago

Text

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #smut #smut fanfic #no beta we die like jason gideon #reader x spencer reid #bau fanfic #bau smut #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #x reader #bau #criminal minds fic

1K notes · View notes

fear-is-truth · 24 days ago

Text

the evans … as ethel cain lyrics

† tate langdon

pretty boy natural blood-stained blond / with the holes in his sneakers / and his eyes all over me — dust bowl

shooting up our old school when we get bored of shooting up / fuck the cops, and fuck god, and fuck this town for ruining us / they’ll put holes in all we own and in our heads, pumped full of lead / you always told me i could only leave you once we're both dead — head in the wall

keeping guns in his locker, and he denies it / like it’s actually important, but he lied ‘cause i sure did watch him / showing up wearing black, and he knows that — crush

† kit walker

he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds — crush

and jesus, if you’re there / why do i feel alone in this room with you? — american teenager

we spent september on the backroads / shotgunnin’ warm bud lights down / a sinner’s rabbit hole / by the fire, taking off my dirty blouse — powerline valley

† kyle spencer

i was too young to notice / that some types of love could be bad — hard times

➥ no need to elaborate but this breaks my heart

† jimmy darling

25 and you're still crying in your sleep / scared the world is out to get you / and you’ve tried every bottle but you’re in too deep — bruises

feel the heat on me / you’re the most damn beautiful thing that i’ve ever seen / i’ve never wanted to go to california / i’d rather stay here with you and forget that i need sleep /‘cause in this florida heat, i get a little crazy — florida heat

and he said, “it’s been a long damn time since i left florida / no one left to leave and no one left to love / but now that i met you, i finally know just where i’m headin’”/ and we found heaven in time — thoroughfare

he’s never looked more beautiful / on his harley in the parking lot / breaking in to the atms / sleeping naked when it gets too hot / i watched him show his love through shades of black and blue / starting fights at the bar across the street like you do — western nights

† james patrick march

i woke up on that sunday to news that they got you / we both knew it would end on the day that they caught you / you shot yourself in the head as they battered your door through — vacancy

i hate to let you go, but if I don't then we both know / i’ll bury us both, fed to the night (as ghosts) — michelle pfeiffer

there comes a point in every man's life / where he gets the need to destroy / some sickness in his guts — selby wall

but i wonder if you want her / in the way, way, way i wish you would need me / we were right there, you were right there / if you want me, i’ll be right here / like concrete — xxxxxxxxxx

➥ james simping over elizabeth and you’re just… there.

† kai anderson

do i look pretty when i ask you to hit me? / hands like barbed wire / wrapping ‘round my throat, making me cry — sunday morning

americanized, jesus christ born to lie / so you lie and you lie and you lie and / you need easy, you want weak / when you were hungry, i was soft and pink / i bleed easy, i go weak — earnhardt

i know your father hurt you / you say that’s why god gave you me / you say i make it a little better / you say i make you happy / you say it with your fingers clenched / wrapped tight around my neck / ’cause that's what love means to you / and i asked for it i guess — child of cain

you never tell me that i’m pretty / you just say you like my tits / and every time i cry you say “don’t be a little bitch” / but i’m still stupid and in love / and i’d still let you fuck me ‘til i’m cumming blood — selby wall

you walk a fine line between god and animal / you’re just a feral dog i worship in bedroom ceremonials — dog days

➥ kai is so toxic that a lot of her songs remind me of him

† austin sommers

black leather and dark glasses / pourin’ another while i shake my ass / he’s cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed / obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs / says he’s in love with my body, that’s why he’s fucking it up — gibson girl

i tried to hold them off you / but their hunger beat me out / they’ll come in through the windows / they’ll take my love down / and i will always love you / but my love is not enough enough to save you — chapel hill

➥ that final scene when he got killed ;-;

100 notes · View notes

miriammctroi · 2 months ago

Text

Fic Scrap: Forced Marriage, second chance, Trans-Reg & Simp James

James meets Regulus pre Transitioning when he convinces his family to vacation in the same place as Sirius’s.

He falls in love INSTANTLY

They are 15 and 16 and he looks at Reg and immediately tries to woo him & prepares speeches to ask Sirius for his blessing. They have a short summer fling that neither Sirius nor his parents find out about. The Blacks forbid their children from associating with the Potters anyway.

Sirius runs away at some point. The Blacks are in a hurry to marry off Regulus to another prestigious family.

James didn't have contact with Reg in those years but he shows up before the wedding and begs him to run away with him, like Sirius.

Regulus confesses that he doesn't want to get married but he feels trapped and fears for his safety if he doesn't do it.

Then he confesses that he is trans. James is the first person he tells about it.

James promises to give him a life as a man, do anything in his power to protect him and give him what he wants. He reminds him of their summer and that he has been dreaming about being with him since then.

In the end they kiss, but Regulus can't go through with running away.

He gets married.

James is heartbroken.

Two years later, he gets a call out of nowhere.

"James?" The voice is quiet, shy even. Oddly familiar but he can't place it.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"It's, uhm, ... it's me."

James is about to ask who, when the recognition zaps through his body, making him sit up straight and half get out of his chair.

He almost says the name he has always known him as, but remembering his confession on his wedding day, he decides against it.

"You," He whispered. "Is it really..."

"Yes."

James closes his eyes at this voice. He has missed it far more than reasonable for a teenage summer fling and a kiss at his wedding to someone else.

"How are you?"

"Good. ...No, great. Fantastic even."

He hears a smile in his voice. He rarely ever smiled.

"I just applied for a divorce."

This pulls him out of his office chair fully. Unable - and unwilling - to hide his excitement he asks, "Divorce?"

"Yes. My parents died and... I felt like it was now or never. ...I decided it was now."

"Oh my god, I'm so proud of you. I'm so happy for you."

There is a chuckle. James has only ever heard him chuckle once before. He wants to drink up that sound.

"I was wondering if you'd... like to go to dinner with me. So, I can tell you the details, if you want to hear them."

"I'd love to. Tonight? I'm off work at 6, I could meet you at seven or half past."

"Let's make it eight. I'll send you the address after I made the reservation."

"Lovely. I can't wait to see you again."

"Me neither."

James’s heart skips a beat.

"Are you safe?"

"Yes. Don't worry about me. ...I guess I should let you go back to work. I don't want to take up too much of your time."

"No, please, take up all my time. It's been so long since I've heard your voice. Tell me something, anything."

"Okay... uhm, I made some decisions about my life going forward. Would you like to hear them?"

"In great detail."

Another chuckle. "I'll leave the details for the dinner. For now, it is this: I want to be called Regulus. I want to go on T, oficially change my name and sex, go back to my old surname, at least for a little while. I want to have top surgery. I want to get my own flat. I want to adopt at least two cats. I want to go to university, study something, get a job, earn money. I want to learn things and have hobbies that have nothing to do with chores. ... I want to kiss you."

His heart seemed determined to make up for the lost beats by doubling and tripling in speed.

"I want to kiss you in a very, very messy, improper and gay way. ...would that be okay with you?"

"Okay?" James half laughed, trying not to have a heart attack from pure joy. "Regulus. Regulus, Regulus, I vow that I will not rest until every dream and wish of yours is fulfilled."

"Good," Regulus said, and James could hear his relief. "I should go now. I'll see you tonight."

"Yes, yes you will, Regulus."

"Good. ...bye."

"Bye."

They don't hang up. They can't. They have to say good bye four times more until they finally hang up. James skips through the office, a large grin plastered on his face, telling anyone who doesn't want to hear it how he had a date with the most gorgeous person to ever walk the earth tonight.

When he finally arrives at the restaurant, he sees Regulus with short hair and a suit that doesn't belong to him and he knows this will be his future husband. And their wedding will be much grander and happier than Regulus’s first one.

#regulus black #jegulus #sirius black #marauders #black brothers #james potter #wolfstar #james x regulus #trans regulus black #trans regulus #trans man #starchaser #sunchaser #arranged marriage #the noble and most ancient house of black #james potter is obsessed with regulus black

105 notes · View notes

kayesfanfics · 1 year ago

Text

The Forgemasters x Dracula’s Daughter

A/N: So this is like if Dracula had a vampire daughter that was twins with Adrian, but she was on her fathers side about humans

Hector:

Tries so hard to stop simping, he doesn’t want to piss his master off and have him think he took advantage of your or something. He’s a bit more secretive and isolated, wanting to not socialize as much as he could avoid it and spend time with the undead, rather. But you wanted to get to know these humans your father trusted so much, so after visiting Isaac, you came to find Hector working in his quarters, a pile of dead humans in one corner while undead animals scurried about the room. A cat with half its muscles showing rubbed up against your leg and meowed up at you, earning Hectors attention. He was shy and tried not to look you in the eye, but he answered your questions and allowed you to watch him work

NO YOU SMILING AT HIM AND DRACULA GETS SUSPICIOUS IMMEDIATELY. He raises an eyebrow at you and you’re all “What? You picked a cute human general” “Y/N, don’t even think about it.” And you just laugh at him as he groans like the grumpy old man he is. You definitely like to flirt with Hector in front of him to make him blush 10x harder, and also annoy your father at the same time, which was always a bonus for you (you’re the only one who can get away with it-)

You liked to help Hector with all his pets, playing with Cezar and petting the cat, and letting the bird land on your arm to chirp and squawk at you. He always asks if they’re bothering you, and they never do, you enjoy keeping them all company while their owner works. Sometimes you’ll wander outside of the castle at night and find a dead or half dead animal on the ground, and you rush it to Hector asking if he could save it. You liked animals better than humans just like he did, animals would let you pet them and love them, human would point swords to your throat and calls you vile names

Isaac:

Isaac is arguably Dracula’s favorite of his court, so you probably got curious as to what was so special about this human in particular. So one day you wandered down to his quarters, hearing the screeches of night creatures behind recently brought to life by him. You stood in the door way to watch him, and when he noticed you, asked if he could help you with anything. You asked if you could just watch him do his work, curious about it, and he nodded before getting back to work

HE CALLS YOU MISTRESS Y/N, and gives you the same respect he gives Dracula. You ask him to just simply call you Y/N, and he bows his head before saying just your name as you requested

He doesn’t smile often in the show at all, but he can’t help but smile for you. Sometimes you ask to see his smile and he grants you that wish, sometimes your presence just brings a small smile on your face while he works. Even in front of the rest of the court, he’ll smile if you yell at Godbrand or sass back at Carmilla, and Hector just raises an eyebrow at him cause since when does Isaac know how to smile?

If you ever get into a fight with your father about what direction to go with this war and he overhears or witnessed it, he will talk down his master before following you to wherever you were storming off to. He allows you to rant to him, and you only stop when you hear a quiet chuckle

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

“It is amusing.” He smiles, before setting a hand on your shoulder. “I like seeing you passionate about things, is all.”

He has a hard time saying he loves you, the last time he said it he was beat harshly for it. You say it often, enough for the both of you, and you understand why he doesn’t repeat it. But when he does for the first time, neither of you realize it at first, but you stare at each other when you do. He doesn’t know how you will react, but when you smile and hug him, he relaxes into your gentle touch and reciprocates it

#castlevania hector #castlevania isaac #castlevania x reader #castlevania

615 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Trying

Warnings: allusions to fertility issues, unwanted touching, and other possible dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: I got carried away with Blind Offer but here is another Corrupt a Wish! Ft. our boys Steve and Ransom!

Please leave some feedback so I know you want me to do more of the wishes I got. Otherwise, I find it hard to keep my motivation.

Wish Corrupted: I wish Ransom would be a simp for me despite the fact that I’m Steve’s girl 😏 by @stargazingfangirl18

“He’s in his office, writing again,” you keep on hand on the door as you speak to the man on your stoop. “Something about a book deal…”

You grin and Ransom’s cheek dimples. Nothing more. Sometimes it feels like he only tolerates you because you're attached to Steve. You try to give them their space, to stay out of the way. You’d hate to spoil this for your husband.

“Right, so..” Ransom tucks his hands into his russet jacket and looks over his shoulder, “you sending me back out in that?”

“Not at all,” you step back, “come on in.”

He looks back to you with that expression you can’t read. His eyes speak more than his features but they are cryptic. There’s a light behind them you can’t quite place. He steps inside, rivulets on his jacket and a few sparkling droplets caught in his dark hair.

“Can I get you a tea? Coffee?” You offer, balling your hands to keep from wringing them.

He unbuttons his jacket and hangs it from a hook. He smooths his hands over his hair, the rain seeping into the strands. He faces you and tilts his head.

“Got anything stronger?” He asks.

You try not to show your surprise at the request. It’s three in the afternoon. On a Tuesday. Your liquor cabinet is rarely opened even on the weekends. It’s more decorative than practical.

“You like gin, right?” You venture.

His lash flick and he narrows his eyes at you, a ripple in his forehead. He plants a hand on the wall and bends as he thumbs off his wet shoes. He keeps his gaze pointed at you, “you remember?”

“Lucky guess,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he looks around the entryway, “I’d say so.”

You try not to betray your doubt. It’s hard to tell with him what is meant as a compliment or shade. He speaks in riddles. You almost want to suggest he takes up writing himself. It is in his blood.

“I’ll go see what we got,” you say and spin on your heel.

You’re quick to flee the stolid pressure of his persistent gaze. It’s as if he’s weighing you, judging your worth each time he sets sight on you. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought you weren’t good enough for Steve. And how could you be? How do you live up to the Captain America?

You go to the cabinet in the dining room and unclasp the door. You peruse the bottle and find a tall bottle of gin. You slip it out over the tops of the other bottle and gently close the cupboard. You bring it to the kitchen and search for a suitable glass among the crystal.

“You got club soda?” Ransom frightens you as you pull down a tumbler.

You turn your head, looking at him from your peripheral. You sidle over to the fridge, “might…”

He crosses the tile as you search and you feel the door shift. As you close it, his hand follows, staying flat to the metal as he peruses the calendar stuck to it with a magnet. The squares are crowded with clusters of your and Steve’s writing. You highly doubt he has any concern for your doctor appointments.

“Busy,” he comments.

“Yep,” you agree as you open the can of soda, “sorry, I don’t have any citrus.”

“It’s fine,” he comes closer as you pour the soda over the gin and the clear mix bubbles to the rim. “Thanks, doll.”

He reaches and slides the glass towards him. For a moment, looming so you can smell the bergamot in his cologne and feel the warmth radiating from his ivory knit. He backs away as he brings the glass to his lips.

“I should go find the old man,” he declares.

“Right,” you move the half-empty can and cap the gin, trying to contain yourself.

You listen to him retreat. His steps are lazy and carry no urgency. You glance over to make sure the kitchen is empty and you lean on the counter.

Doll… only Steve calls you that.

💕

Ransom stays for dinner. It’s not unusual. You don’t even have to ask as two hours pass without a peep from the office. That’s how your husband spends his days lately; burrowed away, writing, grumbling over his laptop, and occasionally calling for help. You smile each time he tells you typewriters were so much simpler.

As you bring out the serving dishes to the table, Ransom chats about some editor’s meeting, Steve looks over as you place the roasted potatoes down, he lets his hand wander to your lower back and smiles up at you. He’s in a better mood than usual.

You touch his shoulder, too shy to kiss him in front of Ransom. You just hate how he’s always watching. The last time to gave your husband a peck on the cheek, it resulted in a snort and a mean joke about PDA.

You go back to the kitchen and grab the pan of drumsticks. You stop as you pass the fridge, staring at your writing, the highlighter over the letters. A few more days… The specialist will be able to figure it out. They have to.

You shrug away that thought and continue into the dining room. You place the last piece of the meal and claim your seat. You sit and wait to take a serving of potatoes until Ransom and Steve get some, then scoop up some grilled asparagus, and a single drumstick.

“Sorry, could I trouble you for another drink?” Ransom asks before you can lift your fork.

“Oh, of course, I forgot,” you push your chair out and grasp the arms as you stand, “Steve?”

“Just water for me.”

You nod and hurry back to the kitchen. Your stomach is roaring with hunger. You pour the rest of the soda in a new glass with the gin. Then you fill a glass with water from the filter on the fridge. You return and give each man their drink.

“Thought you were cutting back,” Steve remarks as Ransom swigs his drink greedily.

Ransom pops his lips and lets out and ‘aah’, “well, I’m only on number two. Usually I’d be at the bottom of the bottle.”

“Fair,” Steve shrugs. He doesn’t drink, even if he did, it doesn’t have any effect for him. You stopped drinking months ago so you could… Well, it hasn’t helped, has it.

“So, first draft when?” Ransom chortles as Steve answers with a growl. “I’m teasing. You’ve made good progress. I mean, the whole world just can’t wait to hear the story of good ole Cap from the man himself… and my grandfather is especially looking forward to it.”

“Mm,” Steve chews, jaw tight with irritation. No, how quickly his good mood flies away. “Deadlines… I am very aware.”

“He’s been working hard,” you offer, “he’s in his office everyday. I think you’re the first guest we’ve had in a few weeks.”

Steve nods but doesn’t comment. Ransom takes another drink. “Must be hard for you,” he remarks, “lonely.”

“I told her to invite Wanda over,” Steve snips, “if she’s lonely, she’s free to solve that problem.”

“Yikes, sorry I said anything,” Ransom cringes, “lighten up, old man.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” Steve huffs, “it’s not funny.”

“Well… you’re what…a hundred or something now? Pretty damn ancient if you ask me–”

“Hugh,” Steve snarls.

Ransom’s grin disappears in an instant. He puts his glass down heavily and leans forward. The men glare at each other. Then suddenly, they’re laughing at each other. You don’t get it. You can’t figure out if they actually like each other or not. It does your head in.

“Mathematically speaking, you’re old, but I’m sure the wife will say you’re spry and youthful in spirit, huh?” Ransom winks in your direction.

Steve sucks back his last laugh and rolls his eyes, “don’t be gross.”

“What? It’s a compliment.”

"It's none of your business," Steve warns.

Ransom laughs again. Steve doesn't and you keep your head down. You can't wait for him to finish this book, hopefully that will be the end of this relationship; professionally and otherwise.

💕

Ransom leans heavily on Steve. The supersoldier shoulders the man with ease as he drsgs him up the stairs. The upstart heir to a bookhouse empire babbles drunkenly.

"So, I get out of this meeting and see my fucker uncle–"

"Language," Steve girds, swiftly ignored as the story continues with similar profanity.

You follow behind, clasping your hands together anxiously. This isn't how you thought the night would end and you know the change in plans will upend Steve. You swallow a dread-filled sigh as your husband angles the houseguest into the spare room.

He as good as tosses Ransom onto the bed. You can tell he's annoyed.

"What were you doing feeding him drink all night?" Steve accuses as he faces you, hands going to his hips. That posture, great, now you're in trouble.

"It was only two," you sputter, "really– you can check the bottle."

Ransom giggles and lets put a belch, "I dropped a few xanny after that idiot uncle of mine got in my face."

"Really?" Steve twists to sneer at the sprawled man. Ransom is so pathetic it's almost impossible to hate him.

"What? Taking the edge off. You should try a few, old man."

"Go to sleep," Steve points at him and turns, marching towards you.

"I'll get some water…" you offer softly.

You precede him out, ready to scurry away from his roiling wrath. He catches your arm as he pulls shut the door. He tugs you back to him, lowering his voice.

"Are you…" he stares at you, his meaning in the angle of his jaw.

"First day," you know he checked the calendar.

"Good," he lets you go and exhales deeply, "I need it."

You nod. He used to be romantic about. Now it's just another chore. Almost mechanical.

"I'll just grab that water and–"

"I'll be waiting," he grits as his throat constricts.

You touch his chest and kiss his lips, "then I'll hurry."

His chest rises and he swallows loudly. He turns away first and you flit away. You know better than to keep him waiting.

You go downstairs and find a fresh glass from the cupboard. You watch the clear water flow into the crystal and balance it carefully to keep it from sloshing over the edges. You come back upstairs and gently tap on the spare room door.

With no answer, you let yourself in, assuming that Ransom's succumbed to his Xanax cocktail.

He's on the bed, just as you left him, eyes closed as he breath subtly under his sweater. You near the night table and set down the water. As you do, you feel a pinch on your ass.

You squeak and recoil. Before you can retract completely, Ransom catches your wrist and yanks you towards the bed. You hold firm, teetering but not succumbing.

"What are you doing?" You touch his thick fingers.

"You're too good for himmmm," he drawls out, "you know that?"

"Ransom--"

"No, it's true. You're so sweet, dolllllll."

"Don't call me that."

He snarls and you're suddenly flung forward with his strength. He pulls you so you collapse onto the bed, against him. You whimper, but not loud enough to be overheard.

"And pretty and..." He caresses your cheek as you turn your face away, squirming as he wraps you up in his other arm, "and perfect. The way you make my dick hurt..."

He rolls his hips and you shove against his shoulder, "get off."

"Shhh, baby, I know you want it too. He doesn't treat you nice. He can't give a baby, but I will--"

You struggle as he grabs your chin and rolls, pinning you to the mattress as he leans over you. Helpless, you writhe, kicking your legs as he smothers you in a sloppy kiss. He tastes like gin.

You bite his lip and he snaps back. You take the opportunity to shove him away and you scramble up off the bed. He reaches for you again but you stay beyond his reach.

"Sleep it off," you hiss and twirl away from him, off kilter as you try not to show how unsettled you are.

You flick the light switch and shut the door, leaning on it as you touch your lips. Hopefully, Steve doesn't taste the gin on you. Not like he really kisses you during anymore.

#ransom drysdale #steve rogers #dark ransom drysdale #dark steve rogers #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!steve rogers #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers x reader #drabble #corrupt-a-wish #marvel #knives out #mcu #captain america #avengers

646 notes · View notes

claritys-silly-things · 6 months ago

Text

Something something Sunday, something something headcanon post

- Ponyboy loves mint chocolate chip ice cream, but dally hates it. He claims it tastes like toothpaste and every time he says this, the group has to hold pony back from attacking the guy (fair)

- (modern) Someone show the curtis brothers Steven universe sobs

- The curtis brothers have dimples and smile lines and other facial things. like Darry has crows feet and pony has worry lines on his forehead because I think it’s cool and I have those even though I am like. Young.

- What if Dallas had an older brother or someone that’s like how he is to Johnny but to Dallas and that person died and then his mom died and he hated his dad and had no reason to stay in New York so he left

- I just painted my nails with random ass old nail polish I found and every nail is a different color and I think that’s something cherry would do

- Pony, soda, and twobit are all double jointed in different areas of their body and they’ll just do shit to creep the rest of the guys out, especially dally and darry

- Dally is fine with gore n shit irl but cant handle weird body contorsions

- Johnny will randomly say the most horrifying things like “doesn’t everyone wish they could go to sleep and not wake up” and it just traumatizes ponyboy. Twobit is also like this but a bit more goofy. Pony ends up doing the same thing post-book but says it to sound like it’s a joke like two bit and when people tell him to stop he’s like “it’s true tho🧍🏽‍♂️”

- Since dally is so pale, he gets “red” so goddamn easily but he looks more pink. Every time he feels too much of any emotion, he’s pink. If it’s too hot he’s pink. Two bit makes fun of him for this and has been punched in the face at least twice for it. Pony is the same but that mf turns like BRIGHT red

- One sided dalbit bc Dallas is fucking aromantic but it’s funny for giggles and shits cuz twobitch just keeps embarrassing himself trying to flirt (vox and alastor core) (someone make a fic about this cries sobs)

- (Modern perchance) Pony is in like advanced classes n shit but fucking hates it. He’s still good at it and will cry if he gets a bad grade, but he doesn’t like it

- (Modern) Pony fucking hates Miguel O’Hara and is absolutely positively disgusted bc like half his friends simp so hard over that man (may or may not be based on me) (it is)

- two bit unironically believes so many conspiracy theories and spreads it to pony and Johnny

- I randomly made mozzarella sticks rn on a whim and soda would 100% impulse make food all the time and just figure out the recipe himself. It’s usually decent.

- Pony loves back to school season but hates actually going back. Like he likes the idea of going back to school and getting new school supplies, but within like, two days, he hates all his classes besides English

- Soda will burst out singing out a lot no matter where he is. Even at night. You can’t stop him (me)

- Rip sodapop you would’ve LOVED musical theater sobs

140 notes · View notes

viviswtings · 2 years ago

Text

Alcohol wet.

So I've just been drawing Neteyam like the simp I am, and it's going great. He's inspiring me so much I got to write a whole thing for him.

Words: 2627.

Warnings: suggestive fluff? Is that a thing? Also not proof-read. Just finished and posted. English isn't my first language and there are words I'm iffy about all over. Tell me if something doesn't make sense.

The characters are aged up. Like, in their twenties sort of aged up. Don't come after me. Or do. Idk.

“Shit, you’re beautiful “

He exhaled against her face, his breath smelling of the sweet, fruity liquor he had been sipping all night.

Up until this point he had been slurring his words, letting them fall off his purple stained lips, all buttery and soft- his speech, that is- without seemingly any care for if she could understand them or not.

But this. This he said clearly. Like a cloudless day, after a particularly dark eclipse. She understood every single word, and she was exhilarated when she did.

How sweet his voice came out, how his plushy, swollen lips had caressed every word like he knew exactly what place in her heart they were meant to fit into. Taking that little space she had once made for him and making it bigger and bigger, so all her feelings may fit within her chest.

He was staring at her from up close, his nose almost touching hers. Those big, golden eyes that let her see her own reflection in the dilated pupil. She hoped he meant it, that, in his eyes, she truly was beautiful.

But alcohol did its thing as the warrior pursed hisr lips and got closer. She turned her head as quickly as she realized, for she had reacted too slowly, having been immersed in his gaze and almost gotten lost in it.

The peck on her cheek was wet, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the distressed sound off Neteyam’s chest once he figured he had failed his attempt. Leaning back to look at him, it was impossible not to smile.

His face was turned towards the ground, while his stare remained on her, brow furrowed and lips pouted. His ears, now flushing almost pink, laid tense flat against his braided hair, all the muscles in his body were tense as his tail flicked from side to side behind him. It was comical. The great, mighty warrior Neteyam te Suli was butthurt. Because she had denied him a kiss.

Maybe it was right at this very moment that a part of her mind, in the furthest back off it, has come to understand she had some power over him. But perhaps she didn’t, and it was all the liquor’s fault, for it had made her delusional.

Seconds in silence had passed, which, given the previous circumstances, was unusual. The young warrior had started bragging about all his feats as soon as the alcohol had settled in. Talking nonsense about how his father barely had to teach him anything, how he was a natural, fishing when he was still using a children’s bow, being the youngest hunter to make his first kill and finishing his ikniyama at the ripe age of just thirteen years old. He almost made her ears fall off, but she did have a special soft spot for him and his slurred, rhythmic and almost-purr like nonsense. So, she had listened attentively all the same.

“Do you not want me?” Was the first thing that left his lips after his failed strategy. She did not expect the look of doubt carved into his features. Like his worst nightmare had become true, like he was… afraid.

Her heart skipped various beats that made her throat close, so no words could come out. She couldn’t flat out reject him just because he was drunk, but saying she did-and oh, she did want him- would risk him not remembering the next morning. Even worse, he could regret it, stop talking to her altogether and leave her with the hope of finally fulfilling her one wish.

It could also escalate and she was not about to take advantage of a drunken man twice her size.

“Nete” Her voice came out as an exhale, like she had been holding her breath all along. “You… ask me tomorrow” Was her final answer, hushed, but with a bit more confidence. If he didn’t ask, she could just presume he didn’t remember and not risk her own heart being shattered.

His ears twitched, his tail stopped, and he got closer again, to which she retreated, trying to avert his eyes. What would happen if she even dared to look back at him? It scared her, so she didn’t.

Then the rough skin of his fingertips came in contact with her forearms, making the hairs on the back of her head rise up and her body tense even more.

“I will” He pressed another kiss to her cheek, a little bit further away from the corner of her mouth, much softer and velvety and leaving no trace of wetness. At least, not on her cheek.

“Alright” She muttered, barely above a whisper, much too afraid of the people around them finding out the oloe’ytakan talking in such an intimate way with her. Both of his hands on her, caressing the skin of her knuckles with his thumb while he kept hold of her forearm, as if to keep her close, to not let her distance herself too much.

He had been resting his chin on her shoulder, face almost cradled in the hollow of her neck, when he was rudely interrupted by a deep, guttural grunt he knew all too well. It would’ve had him standing straight and knocking the air off him in any other situation. But Neteyam was way too comfortable, skin all warm, hands busy and mind fuzzy with the sweetest smell.

Then he felt a hand around his neck, the woman almost under him getting impossibly straight and tense when she pulled her arms away from him. Breath tickled his ear, making him uncomfortable. “Up, boy. Don’t make me repeat myself”.

So he did. All his body screamed against it, but Neteyam got up, not looking down, unable to see the flustered girl he had left on the ground, fidgeting with her tail and head low in shame. He would’ve sobered up in a second if he had. Or so he’d most likely want to believe.

But the older man did see her. As a matter of fact, he always saw her, he did see all of the members of the clan, old or young, gatherer or warrior, it was his duty. He took pride in it. He loved his people.

But that girl, ever since she arrived, she had his eldest running around like a headless chicken. He wasn’t blind, nor a fool, the kid was sweet and very pretty indeed. That, and he knew better than to meddle with young passions, given his own record. His son had crossed a line, though. As he himself had witnessed his son make a fool of himself all night.

“C’mere, sweetheart” He offered his hand to the girl, smiling her way when she looked up at him. “How about we walk you home and I’ll take care of this one for the night”.

She smiled back, taking the five-fingered hand with her own, to which Jake pulled her up, ready in case he had to help her with her balance. But she did just fine, maybe a bit wobbly on her feet, but not a major inconvenience.

The walk to her hut was almost silent, with Neteyam’s head hanging low, too immersed in his own thoughts to even mind his step. If he didn’t know the paths of High Camp like the back of his hand, he might have found it really difficult to find his footing.

Jake only ever broke the silence with politeness, asking how they were doing- to which his son only grumbled-, and making small talk with the girl. He knew her just enough to know what to ask and keep the light smile with jokes as long as the small walk lasted. If he could make his girls laugh, this one shouldn’t have been too much different. Thankfully, he was right.

Once they got to their destination, he stepped back, leaving way for his son so he may have his privacy.

Neteyam knew he should thank his father for the chance, but forgot all about it once he had to put two words together.

“I will ask” He repeated, lowering his eyes to meet her own. He had thought about what he should say all the way there, yet he found himself dumbfounded, incapable of remembering a single thing.

“Alright” She answered back, just as she did before, hands clasping in front of her, knuckles a yellowish shade of green as she gripped onto her own fingers, her nails drawing recent shapes on her palm.

“You will accept” He sounded far more confident than his beating heart would’ve ever let her know. But this surge of confidence lasted long enough for him to hold her hands in his, so she wouldn’t hurt herself anymore. “Then I’ll have you, as you have me”.

She was choking on thin air. The way he was staring her down, brow stern and lips sealed tightly into a line, while making those statements as if he already knew. As if he was laying his head against her chest and hearing her breath catch and her heart beating furiously against her ribs. Like it was the only possible, reasonable outcome.

She had him? Never in her life had she dared to bluff such nonsense. While every young woman almost paraded around him: the nicest singers, the prettiest dancers, the most skilled healers… Every single woman with the least bit of status within High Camp took the slightest chance to be near him. She simply existed, not particularly away from him, but afraid to get so close it would end up hurting her.

Why wouldn’t they? She may laugh at her “mighty warrior” comments, but she knew they were true. He was mighty, and as tall as he was slim, agile and strong. His hair was thick and his hands looked almost heavenly when he put it up for hunting parties, his long neck and the line of his shoulders in display while the muscles in his back flexed, almost knocking the air out of her lungs.

Just as he did now. Luminous freckles making a soft path around his features, down his nose and over his cupid’s bow. He felt so soft pressed to her skin it made her tail move behind her nervously and her loins burn.

“Can I kiss you?”

He had gotten closer to her face once against, big eyes open in question, as he now held her by her arms, pulling her just a tad bit closer as he waited for an answer. If his father had heard him, he didn’t show. He cut her short before she could attempt to answer. “Not your lips”. The remark caught her off guard, but she didn’t know how to mind while he kept his beautiful, gleaming irises on her, like an expecting child asking to go play.

So, she nodded, in fear her words would fail her. Pushing far the thought of the man’s father being mere feet away. How could she deny him? Was she even supposed to? She did want him to kiss her, even though it felt wrong, knowing he was under the effects of the drink he had been having. A kiss it’s just a kiss, isn’t it? It only has the meaning you want to grant it.

All her facade fell precariously as Neteyam’s hands caressed her arms, heavy and warm, up to her shoulders, making her shiver as they made their home on her neck and held her jaw with his thumbs. Keeping her right where he wanted.

He kissed her left cheek, slowly, without making a noise, and she felt his eyelashes against her burning skin. When he went to the other cheek, she saw his eyes closing softly, as he pulled her closer by her neck. She let herself go, closing her own while his lips kissed her. As he looked at her again, she found her own hands clasping around his arms and a smile on his face. He kissed the bridge of her nose, letting out an amused huff.

His fingers made way into her hair, massaging her scalp, when she felt them lightly touch the base of her queue. Her whole body arched involuntarily into his, making her eyes close with her lips parted as he kissed her one last time in the middle of her forehead.

She looked delectable and Neteyam felt famished. Like a starved man, just torturing himself with the meal he could not have, as it wasn’t his for the taking.

He hadn’t meant to hold her like that, but the hazy look on her face had him in a chokehold and he couldn’t help himself. By the time he felt her queue against his fingers he knew he was utterly fucked. The way she molded against him, throwing her head back while she held onto him like a lifeline, her tail caressing his thigh absent-mindedly, just letting herself go in his arms like that. How was he to keep himself away from her, his father here or not. It was only her word holding him back from devouring her whole, just as she was right now.

He knew better than to approach a woman when she had drunk, but he also knew better than to drink himself stupid and there he was. If it wasn’t because he was holding onto her as much as she was onto him, he’d probably be face first on the dirt.

“Neteyam.” What a damn beautiful sound she had just made. He opened his eyes, pulling himself with all his might so he could look at her. “You should head home”. Home? Where was that place again? He’d rather not remember the way back and stay the night. But she wouldn’t have him, not then. “Your father is waiting”.

“Damn him.” He thought out loud. “He can wait”.

She let out the giddiest of laughs and his heart could explode for all he cared.

“We can talk tomorrow”. He already knew. But right in that moment he felt nauseous at the thought of parting. Might as well hold onto her like a child so she’d coo him to sleep and calm all his worries.

“We will.” He remarked, kissing her forehead again.

“I know”. She ushered. “So go and sleep, so tomorrow may come sooner.”

Neteyam looked at her, like he had done so many times. At her pleasing features and her dimpled smile that reached her eyes. The Great Mother had made her all for him, he had no doubt. She couldn’t have made the most precious creature just to rip it away from him. She’d accept him, take him for herself and he’d be the happiest man.

But, of course, he couldn’t drag the whole affair forever. His father was, indeed, waiting for him and his patience was running thin. “Kid, c’mon. You need a nap.”

So, he hugged her, tightly, so close to him she would feel his heart against hers. He needed a home for it inside her, he reasoned, that’s why it yearned for her so much.

When he let go, she felt shaky. Her pupils inspected his face, but she let go rather easily. Her parted mouth was screaming for him, but he couldn’t drag the affair any longer, so he let her go. His hands fell on his sides in fists and he turned around, with a willpower only years under his father’s stern stare could accomplish.

He felt the man’s hand on his back, cold and somehow soothing against the burning skin of his shoulders. Like a kid, he let his father’s presence reassure him, he’d be fine. Even if it meant another night tossing and turning thinking of her, and now the very real prospect of her skin against his and her lips on his, her legs around his waist…

“Let’s get you home, kid”.

He definitely had to get home.

#neteyam #avatar #avatar2009 #avatar the way of water #atwow #neteyam x reader #neteyamx oc #neteyam x y/n #neteyam imagine #neteyam scenario #neteyam sully #neteyam fic

2K notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months ago

Text

umehara appears (again)

I know he’s a prolific VA but tell me why I keep getting jumpscared by this man 😭 This is like the 7th time where I’ve consumed media, went “wow, this voice is nice and it sounds kinda familiar!”, then looked up the VA and found out it was UMEHARA… I don’t think I’ve run into any other TWST VA in the stuff I play/watch to this frequency…

AnYWAY

I wanted to share that Umehara voices this character in a recent GBF story event; it’s a younger version of a 68-year old butler-knight ex-mercenary named Sevastian. In the past, he was known as Wolfe and??? His hair actually looks similar to Leona’s (color and length) and he’s basically this world’s version of a beastman (Erune) and also his cleavage is showing.

Over the course of the story, Wolfe falls in love with a woman. All GBF story events are fully voiced, SO WE CANONICALLY HAVE A L*ONA VOICE CLIP OF HIM SUGGESTING TO ADOPT A Cheka CHILD WITH A HUMAN 💀 AS WELL AS OTHER ROMANTIC LINES… (I mean, yeah, Umehara has also voiced in real otome games but I feel this character is the closest in tone and attitude to Leona, making his lines the most transferrable to TWST.)

P.S. Okay but picture L*ona in this fit, I think he’d kill it—

We also get various lines that feel like things Leona has actually said before or would actually say:

“You’re really going to ignore what I just said and invite me along?” I swear to god Leona has said this before to both Silver and Rook for being overly friendly or insistent that he join them for an activity.

“I, on the other hand, wish you could vacate my life permanently,” sounds like a sarcastic formal comeback he’d pull out when forced to put on airs but he still wants to insult the other person. HIS PETTY ERA………………. ……. …… ….. … . .. ….. .. . … .. . . .. . . .

Those are only two examples, but there’s a lot more on the actual event story OTL

I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS, IT’S A PERSONAL ATTACK ON L*ONA SIMPS/j

142 notes · View notes

mmogurl · 4 months ago

Text

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 3: Rude Awakening

18+ | 4.5k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

Now just how is Daemon going to pull this one off? Continuing the story from Daemon's POV.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

The guards outside the King’s chamber regarded him with a suspicious glare, but Daemon just gave a smile and pushed his way inside despite their presence.

“Good morrow, Your Grace!” Daemon shouted loudly as he walked into the room, already fully dressed for the day and as chipper as any man could be so early in the morning.

Viserys startled awake and just as Daemon expected, he looked like he had been dragged through some maester’s leech pit. His face was pale with red-rimmed eyes, tired and blood-shot.

“What is the meaning of this, Brother!? Has someone perished?” Viserys sat up, pulling the sheets around his waist as he looked at his brother with disoriented concern.

“No, no. No one has died, Brother. There’s no need to worry,” Daemon was already opening the curtains to let streams of bright morning light into the room, knowing it would add to the king’s discomfort. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

He turned back to Viserys with a smirk plastered deviously across his face, looking like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “I do have a solution to all of your troubles, dear brother! Where our precious little Ryna is concerned.”

The king rubbed his head gingerly, letting out a low groan as he turned away from the sudden brightness. “By the Mother’s mercy! I hope whatever you have to say is quick. My head feels like it’s about to split in two.”

Ah yes, exactly as I had hoped.

“Oh, it most assuredly will be brief,” Daemon chuckled, but not without a small pang of sympathy. He’d been in Viserys’ shoes quite a few times, so he knew the feeling all too well.

He stood at the edge of his brother’s bed, resting his hand against the corner post as he continued, “But, first, I want to make sure we are on the same page. I know you wish to see Princess Ryna married, but to a suitable match, yes?”

“Yes, of course!” Viserys shouted clearly irritated by Daemon’s stating of the obvious. “But the girl will not give a man a second glance, let alone a chance to court her!”

Daemon tried to temper the smirk that pulled at his lips as he answered. “Quite simply, Brother… I’ve found a match for our darling girl that she will agree to. No, better than that, a match she will desire.”

The king looked up at Daemon, confusion wrinkling his brow. “And just who in the Seven Hells is the fellow then!?” he grumbled, cogs slowly turning in his groggy head as he tried to figure it out.

The look of bewilderment on his brother’s face was priceless. Oh, this is just too good. He let the anticipation build a little longer before giving the answer he had longed to say.

“Myself, of course,” Daemon finally replied with smug nonchalance.

“You and Ryna!?” Viserys was instantly wide awake and alert, the shock of his words jerking him to the edge of the bed as though he meant to stand. His eyes grew wide as saucers and his mouth fell open slackly. “You want to wed my girl?”

Oh, this is even better than I imagined.

“Yes, Ryna and I, but there is no need to look so startled, Brother,” he retorted, making an effort to keep his voice level so as not to give away his true amusement. “I’m sure once she hears of my proposal, she will gladly accept. Why, it was practically her idea.”

“And what makes you so sure she’ll agree? Have you been conspiring behind my back to ruin another of my daughters?” his voice was growing angry, making his distrust of Daemon’s ‘plan’ known.

Daemon rolled his eyes at Viserys’ question. He knew his brother had a tendency to always think the worse of him, but the accusation still stung.

“Conspiring behind your back? Hardly. I prefer to think of it as finding an effective solution to a problem we both agree needs to be addressed,” he said allowing a touch of frustration to color his words.

“And for your information, it was your lovely daughter who approached me at the banquet last night laden with worries,” he continued, keen to cement his intentions before the king. “She feared you might force her into a marriage that she does not wish.”

Daemon smiled again at the thought of his conversation with Ryna, feeling a surge of excitement at the memory of her in the dark. “I inquired why she’d had such difficulty in choosing a suitor and she admitted that she prizes her Valyrian heritage above all, but does not care for her brothers. And then after speaking to you, it seemed the answer just fell into place.”

Viserys stared at him for a long moment before letting out a groan, rubbing his temples again.

Come on, Brother, you ’re so close. You know it’s the only way.

Finally, the king spoke with a thoughtful, yet slightly melancholy tone. “My lady-wife held onto the hope that Ryna might embrace Aegon as a husband, either by choice or compulsion. The match was a strong one to preserve our bloodline, so I had no objection to it. Yet, I desired for my daughter to have agency in her own contentedness, for we both know that my first born son…. Well, he is not particularly suited for the role of husband to a gentle and spirited young maiden such as my second daughter.”

“That boy is an utter twat! He is even more scandalous than I,” Daemon hissed back with incredulity at the Hightower cunt’s aspirations. How dare she even plant the seed of marrying that rapacious little shit to his darling niece.

The king gave a small resigned sigh, accompanied by a defeated nod. “So, it would seem,” his brother replied, sounding less than happy that his solution would be coming from Daemon. “I should have you sent to the Wall for even suggesting such a thing, Brother. I must say I am not entirely fond of the situation, but I cannot argue with its potential merits. If Ryna consents to this union, then I will permit it.” Viserys paused for a moment and then his eyes sprung open as he added, “With condition.”

Inwardly, Daemon felt his heart leap wildly, but he did his best to remain composed and kept an expression of mild disinterest on his face.

Ah! I ’ve won. Victory is mine!

Daemon raised an eyebrow and held up his hands in a gesture of mock submission. “Name your terms, dear brother,” he urged, remaining mostly stoic. He didn’t want to appear nervous or overeager, in fear it would drive the king’s price higher. But the truth was, he would do anything, sacrifice anything, to possess that beautiful nymph that was his niece. It was a burning need that he must quench.

“The first condition is that you will not lay with her until the wedding night,” Viserys declared, his demeanor stern and unwavering. “There has already been enough talk of Rhaenyra’s exploits and I won’t have Ryna’s reputation tarnished as well. I assure you, should a single whisper from a servant reach my ears, I shall swiftly send you to the Wall to take your vows as a brother of the Night’s Watch.”

The King knows me all too well! Daemon thought to himself, feeling his enthusiasm ebbing slightly at the thought of not having his sweetling before the wedding. Then again, he liked the idea of using creativity to circumvent the rule.

“Agreed,” Daemon conceded with a nod. “What else?” he inquired, silently hoping the next demand wouldn’t as torturous.

“Secondly, you will court her in a proper and honorable manner. You will perform all the duties expected of a suitor. You will spend time with her, in appropriate settings. You will stroll with her in the garden, dance with her at gatherings, and present her with gifts. You will demonstrate to me that you are truly serious about her, that she is not merely a temporary amusement or a means to further your own ambitions.”

Viserys spoke slowly and deliberately, each word imbued with a sense of authority, his directives explicit and firm.

Daemon had to suppress a scoff. I don’t need some courtship game to make her fall for me. She’s all but ripe for the taking…

He kept his expression neutral, determined not to betray any hint of irritation while simultaneously appeasing his brother, and nodded in affirmation once more. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall be the epitome of courtly refinement, a suitor unlike any that King’s Landing has ever witnessed,” he promised as convincingly as possible.

Viserys laughed boisterously, his expression gladdening substantially. “I should like to see that, Brother.”

Don ’t sound so unconvinced, you prick!

Daemon fought hard to repress his grin, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Be careful, Brother,” he cautioned. “I just might surprise you in this.”

He paused a moment and then tried to conclude the conversation. “I suppose I should begin my courtship then, barring any further objections or stipulations from you, Your Grace,” he said, stepping back from the bed, unable to keep a hint of eagerness from his voice.

“Do not look so pleased, Brother. I am not finished yet,” Viserys said with a glaring smirk. It was clear he was beginning to enjoy holding this over Daemon’s head. “Should I be satisfied and give you my daughter’s hand, I expect you to behave as a proper husband would.” The king was sitting up at the edge of the bed now, arms crossed and sheets still covering the lower half of his body.

His next words made Daemon’s heart beat faster. “You will not see other women, you will comport yourself with decency, and I will expect to hear news of a child on the way within a year of the wedding.”

By the Gods …

Everything the king was demanding was to be expected, but the thought of having to be a proper husband with all the obligations that came along with it was a struggle to bear. Surely his brother’s strong hand would grow lax after the wedding, for there was only so much a man like him could endure.

However, the final condition of Viserys’ terms made him stiffen with arousal. He could already imagine his beautiful girl full and round with his babe… Gods give me strength. The mere idea made him dizzy, but he knew he had to focus on the task at hand, so he pushed all thoughts of that glorious image as far back into his mind as possible.

Daemon finally spoke again with a hint of hesitation in his voice, knowing he needed to be on his best behavior so he wouldn’t lose this opportunity. “Of course, I will behave as an upstanding husband should. I have no heirs, save my twin daughters, and have wont of a male to carry on our name.”

“That pleases me to hear, Brother.” He gave Daemon a thin lipped smile, before letting out a conclusive sigh. “I have my doubts that you will be able to uphold your end of this bargain, but if you make good on your word… If the courtship goes well and it is what Ryna truly wishes, than I shall give my blessing and my second daughter’s hand in marriage.” The king took a moment to collect himself, and a more relaxed expression settled over his face, a hint of satisfaction in his features. “Perhaps it shall go a long way towards mending old wounds, Brother.”

Viserys opened his arms, welcoming his brother into an embrace. With a slight hesitation, Daemon accepted his brother’s gesture of goodwill and leaned in to encircle his arms around his back. It wasn’t often that the two shared such a moment of peace, and he found it refreshing that such a potentially hostile topic might end well. He clapped Viserys on the back before standing upright again, given neither man was taken to such displays of affection.

Daemon looked down at his brother with as much honesty as he could convey. “Old wounds and old grudges, Brother. Let us hope that I shall do us both proud.”

“Join the family for the morning meal and I will announce the courtship,” Viserys said with surprising fondness. “I do not look forward to the irate glances my lady-wife will surely give me from across the table, but The King has cause to make his own choices once in awhile.” He chuckled and laid back in bed, likely ready to slumber for another hour before rousing.

He chuckled, imagining the look on Alicent’s face when she found out. No doubt she will do her best to sabotage this courtship.

“I am quite eager to witness her reaction. I am almost certain steam will shoot from her nostrils.” Daemon replied with a hint of amusement in his tone, barely suppressing a grin. “But I will see you at breakfast, dear brother. Now, I must take leave. I have a princess to court.”

Viserys waved his hand in the air to shoo his brother away, his head already nestling into the plush pillows. With a satisfied nod, Daemon turned and left his brother’s chamber with a grin, already planning his next move.

He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, a burning passion igniting his every step as he moved closer to his prize. The thought of his sweet niece, soon to be his bride, fueled his desire and set him ablaze with a fierce intensity.

His hands curled into tight fights at his sides as visions of Ryna danced through his mind. Soon he would have her all to himself, and he would make her squirm and whine, begging and pleading for him. She many never fully grasp the extent of what he had endured, just to earn the chance to call her his own.

Daemon found himself walking down the hall towards his niece’s chamber, the desire to tell her of his victory, to hear her response and see her smile with delight, now almost irresistible. He knew that such thoughts were driven by his own impulsive nature, and that he must remain rational and patient for the time being, but he could not help himself.

He stood quietly at her door and listened, wondering if she was even awake yet. He heard the sound of shuffling inside the room and then the soft padding of bare feet across the floor.

He could only imagine what she would be wearing. A nightgown, so thin and flimsy it might as well be see-through, and her skin glowing in the morning light. He tried his best to push those lurid thoughts aside, but the mental picture of her was too enticing and it lingered persistently as he finally knocked on the door.

There was an abrupt silence from within the room, followed by hushed whispers as footsteps approached the door. A crack of light shined through and the outline of a young handmaid filled the doorway.

She spoke nervously with her head hung low, avoiding eye contact, “Greetings, My Prince. How may I serve you?”

He was annoyed for a moment that it wasn’t Ryna who had opened the door, but he kept his composure and nodded his head to the girl.

“I’ve come to speak with your mistress,” he replied in a tone of authority. “It’s a matter of great importance.”

“Pardon me. M’lady is not yet ready to receive you,” she said apologetically. “Would you be kind enough to wait a moment while I make her presentable?”

Daemon suppressed the growl that threatened to rise up, knowing he had little choice but to wait, especially if he was going to play by Viserys’ ‘proper’ game.

“Very well, but be quick about it,” he grumbled. “I haven’t got all day.” The last thing he wanted was to sit there while the maid brushed Ryna’s hair and tidied her gown. He wanted her now.

The handmaid nodded adamantly and replied with urgency, “I will make haste, My Prince.”

“See that you do,” he answered with finality as the maid disappeared behind the closed door.

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms restlessly. The wait was a slow and excruciating one. He found himself tapping his foot impatiently as the sound of whispers drifted from within the room. The young women no doubt discussing the impropriety of receiving a male in her chambers at such an early hour.

His thoughts began to run wild as time passed, envisioning the scene inside the princess’ chamber. Ryna half dressed with ivory skin spilling out in all the right places, standing before her maid, looking beautiful and sweet. She was likely surprised and a bit flustered to have him at her door, and he could almost envision the rosy blush on her cheeks. The urge to open the door and push his way past the servant became so strong it was practically unbearable.

How will I ever survive this courtship?

The door suddenly opened, causing Daemon to look over with anticipation, only to be greeted by the sight of the same maid that had come to the door moments ago. He tried not to let his displeasure show at not seeing Ryna herself standing there in wait, but it only served to make his irritation grow.

“Well?” he inquired. “Is the Princess ready to receive me?”

“She is, My Prince,” the young woman said shyly and backed up, opening the door and standing behind it to let him enter the room unobstructed.

He strode into her chambers with measured steps, his gaze fixed intently on her petite frame. She was so deliciously small, hardly reaching his chin in height, and he savoured the thought of how soft and supple she would feel against his own body. His eyes devoured her from head to toe as a sly smirk crossed his face.

She wore a simple dress of crimson, the bodice lined in yellow gold with a black insignia of the three-headed dragon embroidered in the center of the bust. Her hair hung loosely against her shoulders, golden silver curls brushed out, but not yet braided. She was a sight for sore eyes, his in particular.

“You look lovely this morning, sweetling,” he said with a low rumble as he closed the distance between them. He reached out for her hand and brushed a light kiss against her knuckle.

His delightful, little niece blushed just as he thought she would, a charming look of innocent embarrassment upon her face. Daemon held onto her hand as she began to speak.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she replied nervously. “What brings you here? I was not expecting you.”

My sweet girl.

She was truly adorable with her shy demeanor and her struggle to look him in the eye. He was surprised how easily he had been able to cast aside years of torment with just the simple notion of her returning his affections. The very purity that had once kept him at bay now only served to heighten his desire to corrupt her further, to make her whimper and plead for more of his touch.

“A matter of great importance, my dear girl,” he continued, keeping the caress of his fingers light as he stroked the back of her hand. “I’m here with a proposition, and I should very much like to have your answer. Now.” He winked at her, keeping up the pretense for the handmaid that was still present.

“Oh?” she asked with a curious gleam in her eyes. “What could be so urgent that it could not wait for the morning meal?”

Daemon tried his utmost to resist the urge to seize her and draw her into his arms. The way she looked at him was almost more than he could stand. If only that blasted handmaid were not lingering, watching them like a hawk, he would have her bent over the bed in less than a second.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on his words, rather than his cock. His voice was softer now when he spoke, but just as insistent, “I spoke to your father this morning… He has given me permission to court you, Niece. I would hear your decision immediately, for he wishes to announce it at breakfast.”

“What?” she looked remarkably surprised. “How!?”

He had to admit, her shock was a refreshing sight to behold. Daemon half expected the girl to throw herself into his arms at the news.

“I have my ways, sweetling,” he answered cryptically with a smirk. “But, first I need your answer. Will you allow me to court you?” There was a soft gasp from the maid and Daemon realized her presence wasn’t quite as aggravating as he’d originally thought. Who better to spread rumors like wildfire than the servant caste. Soon, everyone in the Red Keep would know that he was courting the princess.

And they will all know that she is mine. Just as it should be.

“I cannot believe you managed to convince him. Even for your velvet tongue, that is quite a feat, Uncle,” she looked thoughtful for a moment, as though considering everything that might have been said or promised to make it so. “And it was Father’s wish that we court? A test of devotion, I take it?”

“A test of devotion, indeed,” he said, nodding as he continued to hold and dote on the soft skin of her hand. “Though, I’m sure your father is still not entirely convinced of my sincerity.”

Suddenly, his free hand snaked around her slender waist, drawing her closer until their bodies were nearly touching. A startled gasp escaped the maid at the sight, and Daemon relished the knowledge that their little performance was received so well. He allowed his face to shift closer to her ear, so he could whisper.

“But I have every intention of winning your favor, my sweet, little princess. What say you, hmm?”

Ryna placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to a comfortable distance once more. Her eyes brimming with eagerness, “Yes, positively yes!” She took both of his hands in hers with a beaming smile that made his chest ache.

She said yes. He had expected the answer, of course, but to actually hear it confirmed was a feeling he could have never truly anticipated. Years of pent up desire and frustration were starting to release and it took all of his restraint to not just kiss her there in front of the damned handmaid.

Daemon pulled her hands up to his lips so he could place a kiss on her skin once more.

“Very good, my sweet girl,” he said with a smug look of satisfaction. “Very good indeed.” Daemon allowed his voice to drop once more so only she could hear. “And I promise to court you properly, so long as you do your part and be a good girl for me. I will not abide any misconduct from my wife to be.”

His voice was practically dripping with mockery for he knew how to play this game. This was all a part of the dance, to lure his niece into giving herself up entirely to him. To make her his, once and for all.

“You know I will not go easy on you just because you are my favorite niece?” His gaze darkened and he allowed a small smirk to play about his lips.

“I w-would never!” she stuttered out anxiously as though he were actually serious. The poor girl was so flustered by what he’d said in front of her maid, that she didn’t even realize he’d been jesting.

He chuckled, amused by the uncertainty in her flickering gaze, and he couldn’t help but smile. He knew he would thoroughly enjoy himself during the coming moon, playing with her and indulging in his desires. However, it was also becoming obvious that the challenge of their courtship would test him like no other had before, as his lustful temptations gew harder and harder to resist.

Daemon smiled wolfishly. “Your decision pleases me greatly, sweetling,” he said in a low voice as he continued to place kisses against her knuckles. “Now we must get you ready. Quickly. We wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting, hmm?”

He let go of her hands regretfully and stepped back to allow the maid to take over. Daemon watched as the handmaid scurried back to the foreground and immediately began busying herself with finishing up Ryna’s morning routine.

With her touch gone, he longed to reach out and grab her once more. His hands burned with the irresistible urge to feel her body beneath his touch. It would be exquisite torture, having her close at hand and yet unable to take her in the way that he wished.

He could feel something primal and possessive stirring inside him at the thought. She was his and she always had been. Since she first came into this world, he had treasured her more than any other. And, once she came of age, he had fought against his desires, finding them wrong and ruinous, yet all of these years later she had chosen him of her own accord. Now, nothing would keep him from her again.

“Uncle,” she interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up in a daze. “I shall need some privacy. I’ll look forward to seeing you at the morning meal shortly.” She smiled, a hint of knowing in her eyes.

“Of course, sweetling,” he managed to get out.

His mind and body were suddenly at odds with each other. One part of him wanting to linger in the room just a moment longer, to catch another glimpse of her sweet smile, while the other part was more than eager to be out of there so that he could have a quiet moment to himself and gather his fraying control.

“I’ll be waiting…” It came out as more a growl than words and he mentally berated himself. You sound like an impatient little boy, you fool.

“Until we meet again, Uncle,” she spoke softly, before turning her head so that the maid could continue working on braiding her hair.

Daemon nodded to her with a grin, his eyes fastened on her for just a moment longer than appropriate, before turning on his heel and exiting the chamber. The door closed behind him and he leaned back against the cold stone wall. His eyes closed as he lout out a long, shaky breath.

Gods give me strength… Read Chapter 4

62 notes · View notes

theyanderespecialist · 4 months ago

Text

Touch Starved 2 (Scenarios) Yandere Upper Moons X Gender Neutral Prisoner Reader (Demon Slayer)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another request! This one is going to be the 2nd part of the mini-series of the Yandere Upper Moons x gender-neutral human prisoner reader and what they do if they hug them! This one is going to have Hantengu and five of his emotion clones, Anger (Sekido), Sorrow (Aizetsu), Pleasure (Karaku), Joy (Urogi), and a Physically aged-up Hatred (Zohakuten)! Please enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: None of the Upper Moons are Yandere, well except for Maybe Doma, that man is a kinda sussy! This is just for fun and Not to be Taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! You Dirty, Flaky, Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!)

(Disclaimer: In This Zohakuten (Hatred) is aged up to the other emotions ages Physically at. Remember he is a demon and in the canon is over 200 years old, that's a fact)

(Hantengu, Upper Moon 4: Original/Fear) (Shocked Cuddles)

(Hantengu's POV)

I loved my sweet little (Name) They are so sweet, and I wish they would love me. It is not my fault that I had to kidnap them! I was keeping them safe! I was being a good man and keeping the love of my life safe and sound. My heart aches as I know that they do not love me and I had to keep them prisoner. We are sitting in my quarters and I am reading a book. when I hear them move and then when I look up at them, they sit in front of me and slowly wrap their arms around me.

I was beyond shocked and did not know what to do! (Name)! (Name) is hugging me! I slowly move my arms to them and wrap my arms around them pulling them close to me. I bury my face into their neck and let out a cry of happiness and joy! I could feel the five emotion clones in me all wanting (Name) to hug them too! We all hope that they will seek comfort in all of us!

I of course am going to be selfish and keep this moment with them all to myself! They are mine, all mine~

(Sekido, Upper Moon 4: Anger) (Angry Cuddles)

(Sekido's POV) (Anger)

I was angry, I was so angry that (Name) did not hug me! Why would they not want to hug me? I am a good partner! I have kept them safe! I wish that they would hug me, I was deserving of their love! I was deserving of My (Name's) Love! They would hug Hantengu, but They would not hug me!? I have no idea why I am feeling this jealous of Hantengu, we are all Hantengu but we all want to have (Name) hug us as well!

Suddenly I felt (Name) wrap their arms around me. I did not even hear them sneaking up on me. They have my head pressed against their chest. I feel my face heat up.

"What the hell are you doing!?" I snap at them. "You are angry, you need comfort." (Name) tells me. "You need cuddles!" "I am not angry!" I growl but let them continue to hug me and bury my face in them. "You Want cuddles?" They snicker and I growl. "Why you are so angry?" They press. I growl more and they scoff. "I am not even doing anything, I am just hugging you!" "Shut up!" I wrap my arms around them and pin them to the ground. they groaned and looked up at me. "Fine, Angry Cuddles it is..." They say with a smirk and I growl. Burying my face into their neck.

(Aizetsu, Upper Moon 4: Sorrow) (Sad Boy Cuddles)

(Aizetsu's POV)

I was so sad, Sekido got to hug (Name), and Hantengu too! Why did I not get to cuddle (Name)? I love them the most! I knew that (Name) loved me too, they had to! So Why would they not hug me? I was crying in the room and hoping that (Name) would come and comfort me too! I hear them come in and hear their voice.

"Aizetsu?" They ask me. "Are you okay?" They walk over to me and make me look at them. "I am fine..." I whimper out. They frown with concern in their eyes and they kneel next to me and wrap their arms around me. "I am sorry, I should spend more time with you too." They tell me and I sigh and let more tears fall.

Yes, it was manipulative of me to use my sorrow to make them feel guilty. But they are mine and I wanted them to hug me too! To love me too and to be mine as well! I did not want them to hug anyone else but me, so if they were hugging the others, then they had to hug me too! So I do not feel bad for manipulating them to hug me! I will be doing this again!

(Karaku, Upper Moon 4: Pleasure) (Cuddles With Pleasure, Touching, and Kisses!)

(Karaku's POV)

I was so jealous! I wanted (Name) to hug me! And Touch Me! AND LOVE ME! Their body is so freaking sexy and from what the others felt when they hugged (Name) that it felt so fucking good! I wanted to feel that good! I am the pleasure emotion clone, I should feel that so fucking good as well! I did not know what I was going to do if they did not hug me. So here I am on the futon waiting for them and then I saw them look at me. They got on the futon and hugged me. It is happening! They are hugging me! I pulled them to my chest and start to kiss their neck and feel up their ass~ Fuck this is so- SLAP. They slapped me and told me I was an ass! They stormed out, but man I felt so good! I got to touch them and grope them and kiss their neck! "I cannot wait to do that again!" I say with a smirk. "Maybe I can kiss them with my tongue next time~ Yes~"

(Urogi, Upper Moon 4: Joy) (PURE JOY From The Cuddles) (Urogi's POV)

When I heard that four of the six of us had hugged (Name) I was so jealous! I am to be their mate! I am a hawk demon! I was the one to love them the most. I would be mated to them and be the one to stay with them the most. As a hawk demon, I would mate for life and that means I would be mated to them forever and always. so I do not want to share them, nothing with them, I deserve all their hugs, not anyone else! That is when they walked up to me and wrapped their arms around me. I feel pure joy rush through my body and fly up into the air holding them tight to me. "You are hugging me~ You are min!" I cheer and they bury their face into my neck as I fly through the infinity castle with them. nothing can be this moment! nothing!

(Zohakuten, Upper Moon 4: Hatred) (Hateful, Jealous, and Forced Cuddles)

(Zohakuten's POV)

I was beyond pissed, how dare they hug everyone BUT ME! I love them the most they should hug me! Well, I am not going to wait any longer. I saw them walk in and I grabbed them. "What the fuck have you not hugged me out! Being a tramp and hugging everyone but me!?" I demanded and they stared at me.

"I-I came to hug you r-right now..." they said. "Yo-You are hurting me..."

My eyes widen and I let go of their wrist. They held the wrist I had in my hand and it was already bruised. "Y-You still want a h-hug?" they ask slowly but I can tell they do not want to.

I did not care I was going to make them hug me. I am not going to let them get away with hugging everyone else. "YES!" I snap and they slowly pull me into their arms. "I am sorry," I whisper into their ear and they seem to relax and hold me in their arms tight, I hug them back. I never wanted to hurt them. I had just been so jealous. I hate that the others got to hug them first. THEY ARE MINE!

(Okay so Hatred Emotion clone, Zohakuten WOULD FOR SURE demand hugs and be the one to call you a tramp when jealous you been with others. He called Mitsuri a tramp XD For like no reason, the man needs to chill XD stop slute shaming The Reader for giving hugs XD brah!!!)

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, another chapter is done! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter here, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

(Also since they all seem to be the type to share I did them like this! with it being a whole overarching story with the same Reader!)

55 notes · View notes