#but either way i need the others to find out so i can see the Disappointed Dad & Brother energy djkfjg

[kaiserposting]

My Worries Come in Phallic, Freudian Shapes

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Established Relationship, It's basically just Kaiser tweaking for no reason 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ (I find it funny but interpretations may vary) WARNING(S): Kaiser's overactive imagination?

Kaiser would like to say he’s quite numb to being separated from you. Sometimes you come along with him at away games, if possible, but in other instances you have to be apart sometimes even for months, and Kaiser likes to think he manages it well.

You’re not on his mind much when he’s training or during a game. Mostly his times of weakness happen outside of that, though Kaiser doesn’t let it get to him. For example, he does this fun exercise where if his mind strays towards you too often or when he can sense the void in his chest is beginning to take on a suspicious shape, he holds out on texting or calling you for as long as possible. To test his will — which is something normal people do like all the time, of course — and because wanting to distract himself gives him extra neurotic energy to burn when he’s doing his exercises.

Not that Kaiser becomes neurotic over you or anything. It’s not even a big deal to him.

He’s sure you miss him more than he misses you. He’s confident you do. After all, to him, it’s no big deal, as previously stated. It’s true.

He doesn’t worry about small and nonsensical things like how you’d probably prefer a more present and available boyfriend, and how you’re free to do whatever you want with remarkable ease when you’re seas and oceans away from him.

Kaiser’s eye twitches while he continues shoving the last of his belongings back into his luggage, since he needs to pack for his flight back home. This train of thought isn’t going anywhere good — he needs to abandon it. Besides, a second with Michael Kaiser is worth way more than a month with some stupid, worthless commoner. Your shitty replacement for him will never rival the real deal.

No, this is stupid. You love him, you don’t have a replacement for him. Right? You wouldn’t betray him while he’s away. You’re his first and only love, you can’t do that to him, can you? You know he’d kill you if you did it and he found out, don’t you?

This is stupid. He wouldn’t kill you! Kaiser doesn’t want to kill you. He should stop thinking about this… You wouldn’t do it to him either anyway, you love him back. Kaiser knows you do, so why does it not feel real most of the time?

What if you’ve fallen out of love with him, though? Maybe you look forward to when he has to go away for long. Forget all about him the moment he’s out of your sight, don’t spare him a single thought, have fun with your little friends while he’s gone, all that.

You probably get together and you start shit-talking him with them the way people do about their good for nothing boyfriends sometimes. They call his haircut stupid and you cackle along with them, then you tell them how insecure and unlovable he really is, and actually his dad beat him as a child so now he’s barely human, how it makes him an arrogant and pretentious piece of trash pretender, and then you’re like ‘I wish I had a normal boyfriend instead of Michael’, and they’re all like ‘you deserve a normal boyfriend, this is fucked up’, and you’re empowered to free yourself of your burden. So he comes back home and you pick him up from the flight and you break the news to him that you’re leaving him and he has to move his belongings back to his place.

Maybe you have a new fling already, but it’s nothing serious because you still need to dump Kaiser and all. And he’s like in finances or something, an accountant maybe, who works normal hours (not the overachieving workaholic type who stays behind to do extra), and he probably doesn’t have footage of him having meltdowns on live TV for everyone to see. There are no interviews where he’s acting bitchy, no compilations of him acting cruel or ‘crashing out’ or whatever else. And he probably grew up in an average household — they weren’t rich or anything, but his parents made time for him. They were loving and nurtured him to be a rightful member of society, raising him to be someone worth your affection…

Holy shit does Kaiser feel unhinged. Literally why is he making up this entire story in his head? It never happened.

It didn’t, right? You wouldn’t do it to him, would you? You love him. You really, really, really love him, like from the bottom of your heart, somehow you love him and you don’t want to hurt him, even if you’re probably sick of him being away and of his problems and his attitude and his everything. If you had a magic wand, he wagers you’d wave it and change him on a neurochemical level, keep his looks and his successes, but get rid of the unnecessary baggage.

Or would you keep him as he is and love that ugly thing? Can you? Do you have it in you? Are you just tolerating him for some monetary benefits or out of pity with your knowledge of his past? Do you still love him? Will you love him a few hours from now or are you going to get bored? Are you bored and antsy waiting for him and is it affecting your feelings, suffocating your love to zero each moment he’s not by your side, each reunion only serving to put off the inevitable? Is the novelty wearing off? Do you need novelty?

Kaiser fights off the impulse to write you a text message threatening suicide and then turning off his phone until the end of the flight to keep you on your toes. A flashy move in attention seeking for sure, but for one you don’t even know he’s in a mind war with you, so you’re more likely to be confused than begging for him not to do it and for his forgiveness, though maybe it could earn him a reassurance of love and care. Regardless, Kaiser is not taking the chance because if you ignore him or don’t see the message it’ll just devastate him.

And also he kind of doesn’t want to act like that. Well, he does, but the rational part of him is also still awake and holding him back. You won’t appreciate that. Right now the strife he’s going through is completely imaginary, but if he goes and acts crazy outside the confines of his mind, he really might fuck everything up.

If he makes too many mistakes, you might fall out of love with him, and if you fall out of love with him, you’ll leave him. Kaiser thinks about what he’d do in that case. Without you he is nothing besides an unwanted waste of breath — you’re the sole person who got close enough to see beneath his nonsense and decide to tolerate it, attracted beyond frivolity for an enigmatic reason.

Maybe the perpetrator behind this strange limbo of weird hysteria is Kaiser’s low self-esteem. It always circles back to that and he is sick of it. He doesn’t understand why you subject yourself to him and here, a whole ordeal.

Whatever anymore. Kaiser doesn’t even care. It’s a pointless matter to lose his mind over. He knows you cherish him, and even if you didn’t, he’d get over it. Life moves on. There are other fish in the sea…

Actually, if you tried to leave him, Kaiser has so many things he would do, they’d earn him a restraining order. First he’d resort to begging and ugly crying, but he doubts it’d sway you. He’d need to be more extreme.

No, that’s silly. If you separated, he’d react to it like a normal person, right? He wouldn’t do a thing. He’d let you leave without any theatrics and move on. Right? It’s what he would do, Kaiser decides.

Or maybe he can get a leg up on you and catch you out when you begin losing interest in him and he can work to win you back over. You won’t even know what hit you. Yea, Kaiser will scheme to sweep you off your feet.

Not that he cares that much to put so much effort in… It’s just his strength and natural calling as an unbothered male manipulator.

___

After the packing and the waiting at the airport and all that, Kaiser survives a restless flight. He tried to read a book during it, but he turned out not to enjoy it whatsoever (catastrophe). Then he turned to Gesner, who was sitting next to him and seemed like he wanted to kill himself, and told him in detail about all the plot problems and why this was what made nonfiction superior.

To Gesner’s relief Kaiser also spent a good chunk of it trying to sleep, though the endeavor was useless. He closed his eyes and his pattern of anxious cyclical thinking continued and he failed to doze off. What do you think about accountants? Maybe your side piece wouldn’t have any tattoos because you secretly find his corny and you’ve sworn off tattooed men. ‘I mean, seriously, just put the eyeliner on like a real man.’ Kaiser would bet this is what you’re saying to your friends.

Anyway, again, his flight was spent stirring in ridiculous thoughts in that vein. If nothing else, actually, if you knew what was running through his head, that would be what would put you off of him. But you don’t. He needs to just… keep it to himself and it’ll be fine.

So you find each other after some stumbling and chaos and some vague text exchanges like ‘where are you?’, ‘At the airport obviously’, ‘you think you’re so funny’, and so on, and when you spot each other, you grin upon the sight of him (hard to fake such immediate happiness, Kaiser concludes) and spread your arms out for a hug.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. You’re so cute, he wants to squeeze you to death, but regardless he puts on a big show of what an inconvenience this is and gives you a stiff, nonchalant embrace. The way you hold him is a small reassurance. You’re still in public though, so he needs to play it cool for a bit longer, and he reluctantly peels himself away from you.

You interrogate him about his time away while he’s your passenger princess on the way home. Kaiser takes it as a good sign you’re still interested in his life at least enough to ask, as if there was a possibility he was going to come back and you just… wouldn’t give a fuck about him or what he’s been up to. He keeps his answers vague, trying not to let on the almost daily mental torment he’s been subjecting himself to just because his brain can’t stop making up stupid narratives.

Once you two arrive, and only when you’re inside, does Kaiser give into his desire for your affection. He wraps you up in a way tighter embrace without intention of letting go and peppers your face in kisses.

The first time he acted like that with you upon coming back, you were rightfully weirded out, but now you’re used to this whole routine and let him have his moment of rare forwardness.

“You know,” he says, “I missed you like, a little bit.”

“It’s hard to tell,” you say, sarcastic.

Kaiser ignores it. He bites your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt at all, but it’s a strange sensation.

“So gross.”

“I hope you weren’t doing anything stupid without me. I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you think about accountants?”

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, but humor him anyway. “Can’t say I think anything in particular about them.”

“Is that so…”

For some reason, you find his tone to sound suspicious? There is a harder bite — your skin might be a bit irritated around there for a few minutes. You wonder if Kaiser was arguing with management or something somewhere abroad.

___

I just wrote this because I thought Kaiser having emotional impermanence (which is likely) would be hilarious I promise I'll write a more plot-oriented one shot soon again

[dreamerimpossible]

Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 34. About Damn Time

Summary: I think the banner and title speak for itself.

A/N: I’m yet again lost for words. ANOTHER BONUS POST?!? Though you guys couldn’t have timed this better, because some of you definitely need it after the last one.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Pet Names. Oral (M receiving). Fingering. Unprotected Sex (P in V).

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

I gasp as Garrick pushes me back against the door, shutting it with a loud bang that doesn’t deter either of us as he pins me against it. His lips find my neck as he kisses and nips at the sensitive skin, my fingers tightening on his shoulder and hair.

Gods it felt like my body was on fire. Felt like Garrick was everywhere. Which considering his build, he pretty much was. Especially with my legs wrapped around his waist, his large body pressing against mine. My body arching off the door into his as he nips at the sensitive skin below my ear, my hips grinding against his.

His body rumbles as he growls at the movement, his hands gripping my ass with a strength that I know will leave marks tomorrow. “Gods, you keep that up and I’ll be done before I get inside you.” He groans against my neck.

With his head buried in my neck he can’t see the smirk that I don’t hold back just before I grind my hips on his again. His hands tightening to a death grip on my thighs as I gasp out from the pain. My lips barely part before his are back on mine, the kiss is carnal and raw, as if Garrick has fully let his control slip.

I gasp into the kiss as Garrick reaches between us, pushing the skirt apart at the seem before pulling my underwear aside as he plunges two of his fingers inside me.

I tug on his hair harder than I intend to, his groan rumbling through his body. His fingers pump in and out, stretching me as he curls his fingers inside. My head rolls back against the door as I break the kiss, gasps and moans falling from my lips.

“Come on little flower, fall apart.” He whispers huskily as he starts to rub my clit with his thumb.

I make the mistake of looking down at him into his blown out eyes. I can barely see the hazel colouring around the edges. But I can see how far gone he is. How much he’s enjoying this. How much he wants this.

The feeling inside me builds rapidly as he increases the pace and pressure of his fingers. The fleeting thought of how many other girls before me is the reason he’s so good enters my mind. And as if he can sense it, he grasps the back of my head and pulls me down to him as his lips claim mine. With a final curl of his fingers I come undone around his fingers as I cling on him.

“That’s it.” He minutes against my lips as mine part in a silent cry as I tremble in his arms. “Good girl.”

He chuckles as I tighten around his fingers at his words. And I know it won’t be the last time I hear him use those words on me. I whimper as he removes his fingers from me, pulling me tightly against him as he walks us back towards his bed. Which I note is far larger than mine. Either due to being a second year, or how big he is. Either way, we wouldn’t have fit in my tiny bed. I’d have to pretty much climb him like a tree to sleep.

Garrick places my feet on the ground, spinning me around as he is fingers make quick work of the corseted top. The material falls away with in seconds, and I can’t deny I’m impressed by the speed. His hands are quick to grasps my breast, kneading them in his hands as he pulls my back flush against his chest. I now note the leather from his flight jacket is missing. When the hell did he remove that?

I spin around, grabbing the bottom of his shirt which Garrick rips from my hands as he pulls it over his head. My hands fall to his flight pants, undoing the buttons as quickly as I can, but it’s hard when I keep fumbling with them. God dammit. Finally I get them undone, looking up at Garrick who looks like it’s taking all his willpower to hold back. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. I smirk up at him as I start to push down his pants, pulling his underwear down as I kneel on the ground in front of him. Now the multiple fingers he used earlier made sense. So much sense. I feel Garrick reach for me, obviously hesitant to let me do what I’d planned due to his size. It was definitely…. intimidating.

I reach up and wrap my fingers around his thick length, Garrick moaning at my touch as I stroke my thumb over the tip of his length. I look up watching as Garrick squeeze his eyes shut, watching his control slip, watching him loose himself to pleasure. Garrick’s hips buck into my hand as I swirl my tongue around his tip, a groan that vibrates through him into me makes me desire flare. I want him. All of him. And here he was at my mercy. I wrap my mouth fully around him, his fingers tangling in my hair, clearly torn between pulling me off him or letting go. Every bob of my head has him gasping and trembling.

”Fuck me.” He moans out, tugging at my hair again.

I remove my mouth from him but continue using my hands. “Pretty sure I already am.” I tease.

I yelp as he grasps my arms, pulling me off him and back to my feet. “Were only getting started little flower.”

His mouth claims mine again as he kicks off his boots and pants, his hands making fast work of zipper holding the skirt in place, dragging it from my body with my underwear. Without breaking the kiss, he picks me up by my thighs, walking us over to his bed before throwing me down on my back and kneeling between my spread legs. Gods, I could almost swear I had died and gone to Malek with the sight before me. I’d always found Garrick attractive. But having him kneel between my legs… Gods, that was a sight I never wanted to forget. Looking at me like a starved man, like I am the only thing he’s ever going to want or need.

He grips my hips, dragging me down the bed to him, the tip of his cock rubbing against my entrance. I gasp at the feeling, my hips bucking up to meet his, earning me one of his smirks that I’ve grown to love. I cry out, grasping the sheets below me in my hands as he pushes inside, gasping at the fit and the stretch.

”Oh gods,” I cry out, Garrick chuckling above me as I adjust to him.

Once full sheathed and rolls his hips against mine, a sinful moan escaping my lips is all it takes for him to roll his hips against mine again and again. His hands grasping the back of my thighs as he pushes my legs against my chest. Gods, I was not going to last long, and I can tell with the groan the rumbles through Garrick he won’t either.

I'm a whimpering and moaning mess as Garrick continues to rock his hips back and forth. Each thrust hitting the perfect spot. The coil inside my tightening and threatening to unravel at any moment. His hands move to my hips, raising them up as he rests me against his thighs. I get a moment of rest as he stops, grasping my legs as he pulls them from his chest to rest them against his chest, his shoulders resting against the back of my knees. "Hold on tight little flower." He warns, before he slams his hips against mine. "Fuck!" I cry out, the new position and angle causing Garrick to reach a whole new spot. My hands fisting the sheets tightly as I struggle to keep a grasp on reality. His pace is brutal and relentless, struggling to keep my eyes open as they roll into the back of my head from the intense feeling. It's not long before the coil unravels. I cry out as I tumble over the edge, Garrick mumbling profanities as I clamp around him, my whole body trembling beneath him. His hips slam harder into mine as he leans into my, my knees touching my chest. After a few more thrust he cries out as his body shudders above me before falling forward and bracing himself with a hand next to my head. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me, both of us breathing heavily, trying to catch our breath. He rolls to the side, grabbing my arm and leg, pulling me with him as he cradles me against his side. His fingers skimming up and down my side as I rest my head against his chest.

”That was….” I start, not sure what to say next.

”Well over due.” He teases, muttering a quiet ‘ow’ as I smack his chest lightly. “I’m not wrong.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see my face. I couldn’t deny he was wrong. There had always been this tension between us. A tension I was not willing to test till he was prepared to fully give himself to me. And with the way he stood up to my father had more than proven that.

”Thank you.” I say softly, as I run my fingers over the defined muscle of his stomach.

”For what?” He asks, shifting his head to look down at me.

I angle my head to look up at him. “For not giving up on my stubborn ass.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601 

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and fluffy things I like to imagine with him. Part 2: electric boogaloo

logan has a soft spot for animals. He wont go absolutely out of his way i think to interact with them, but definitely has a mutual respect for them.

that being said, going for a walk with Logan, and a stray kitten comes up and absolutely WILL NOT leave logan alone. It adores him, screaming and climbing his pants. You of course insist on taking it home and logan grumbles over it but doesnt argue

cue all the moments of "dad who didnt want animal in first place" with logan as he treats it like his literally baby. Its young and still needs milk, and lots of tlc.

you wake up to him missing from bed one night, crawling out in search of him and finding him in the kitchen- babytalking and cooing the little itty bity baby kitten hes holding in his arm (imagine. Tiny kitten. Logans beefy arms. 😍) and bottle feeding it.

he gets so embarrassed when you catch him.

making him laugh. Like really. He's so stoic sometimes. hes sarcastic and has a smart mouth and really funny himself but not much gets him going

but you tell him a joke . or maybe a funny story of something that happened to you, or a funny limerick whatever okay

and he LAUGHS

its the first time you ever heard him laugh, probably the first time you ever made him laugh that wasn't a small chuckle (say you're still new to each other)

His laugh is just so warm and boisterous. It's a real peek into the kind of person Logan can be if he's in the right enviornment

that big cute smile, his low voice. that loud laugh. I mean honestly

making him laugh so hard he's crying and its uncontrollable

thats right baby girl

anyway

Logan loves listening to your heartbeat

lies on your chest and listens to it beat away. it's grounding to him, a reminder you're still here with him

Either with the X-men, or with Wades gang, Logan slowly opening up and becoming more comfortable with people- purely because YOU'RE there.

your presence reassures him so much

feeding each other

its natural too. You're just at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. you take a fork of your food, or maybe your french fries, or whatever and immediately hold it up to his mouth and he just eats it without question

Feeding him fruits, or chocolates, or a charcuterie spread AH *sigh*

Leading to having a picnic with him. He's a little unsure at first. I think depending on the logan you're picturing, or at least when you meet him, he may have points where he gets shy about dates and stuff

a picnic is one of those things. planning food and a blanket and all and it really does sound nice to him. Too nice. It feels unnatural to him and he doesn't know how to behave, maybe he doesn't think he deserves to do something so...domestic, and soft

you of course argue that "yes logan, you deserve to do picnics too."

Once you actually get him out though, he'll eventually relax, lying on the blanket, on a nice breezy yet sunny day under a large tree, arms crossed behind his head as you feed him grapes and strawberries and blueberries

"Yeah, okay, I could get use to this"

planning other dates with logan. for awhile it's something you take initiative of. But then Logan surprises you. He got you tickets to see a broadway show you've been talking about for months.

since then logan starts pulling his weight with planning dates. he always enjoyed the dates esp in the beginning. he just wasn't used to it, used to meaninglyess flings and lonelines. Sitting and trying to get to know each other was hard for logan bc he struggled opening up

for you tho he does

in a setting with the x-men, they all are amazed how easily logan trusts you. Even as just friends.

you do whatever to him and he just accepts it. He doesn't flinch. or scoff. or tell you to fuck off (sorry Scott. i know you were just asking for the salt). He'll give you his witty and sarcastic remarks but they tend to be a lot nicer and sweeter

he looks at you with a softness they're all confused by

well except jean and charles, they both see what's going on in his head. it's sweet actually

ororo actually picks up on it pretty quickly too

Scotts the one who's just confused but prob bc he gets the most abuse

sorry again scott

okay, not really a logan fluff relationship but honestly logan and scott becoming semi friends? I feel like hard feelings and annoyances aside, they could really get along. I don't know much about Scotts character but i feel like they're both men who can be great leaders and genuinely care about their people. Logan and Scott putting aside differences and going out for a guys night at a bar. Maybe some other X-men join to, but Scott and Logan talk a lot

Meanwhile you, Jean, Ororo, and a few other girls have a girls night

Logan opening up to Scott about how he feels about you (you're still friends at this point), he doesn't outright say that he's scared to make a move, mainly because he's scared of hurting you in more ways than one

Scott gives him a pep talk, male bonding. of course they end the night insulting each other but on the bright note they seem to come to an understanding

Logan is a very attentive boyfriend. He may act aloof sometimes but he notices EVERYTHING. Don't be surprised that your birthday and christmas gifts are always exactly the things you wanted even if you hadn't told anyone you wanted them.

You're teaching a class and logan stops by to give you something. He gives you a kiss in front of the class without thinking, and they're all "Oooooo"ing and "Aaaw"ing over it. Logan tells them to grow up, (They're 5th graders logan)

imagine shopping together, and logan picks out clothes he thinks would be cute on you. He finds a pretty sundress and practically demands you to get it. Of course you do. He ADORES you in that sundress. His hands are never off you when you wear it

It awakens something in him and he starts buying you pretty clothes he wants to see you in. He knows your size by heart, he knows what materials you like and what you hate, and the colors you despise on you (even tho he thinks you look good in everything)

Kissing each space of his hands where the claws come out. It's a gesture of love and trust. Logans scared of you doing it, afraid he'd somehow lose control but you reassure him. Now he loves it, and it truly makes him think that maybe he isn't such a monster if you could love him like that

You do his laundry for him. It's not like he asked you or that he doesn't keep the laundry up himself, you just do it, acts of service being your love language and he comes home and finds you did it and hes kinda shook because like...wow? being taken care of? it was so simply. its just laundry. But damn

Speaking of, doing laundry together.

I want to do laundry with Worst! Logan, we go to some 24 hour laundromat. maybe just neighbors but you've been flirting with each other, and consider each other good friends, the implication of something more. You're laughing and you guys have the place to yourselves. Logan feels safer than he has in a long time with you. Maybe share your first kiss, at 1 am in the laundromat.

I like to think about late nights in your study with Trilogy Logan, he hangs out with you, he already has trouble sleeping, and just loves your sweet company. Your conversations turn deep, maybe you had a recent mission that turned rough, and it literally turns into a love confession by Logan. You return the feelings, and he asks "Are you sure about me?", and you respond to him with an eager kiss, your arms embracing each other in the way those old romantic movies when they kiss (I use to be so grossed out by those and now I would love nothing more *dreamy sigh*)

I want to comfort Old Man Logan, maybe he had a really bad day, and disappears. You get Caliban to watch Charles for the night while you search for him, and you find him at a bar he usually frequents. Hes gruff but polite and tells you to go home and go to bed, but you urge him to come back with you. Eventually you get him to agree to at least come walk with you down the streets. He doesn't know how, but you draw out of him his worries, his fears - and they mainly revolve around you, this sweet little thing who came into this fucked up life of his. You reassure him that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, and you end up kissing him. He's shocked you like an old man like him, but...he'll take what he can get.

I want to be 70s DOFP Logan friend first, hes a menace, and he has fallen hopelessly in love with you. Much to your obliviousness, you think he's still a Casanova out in the bars- but hes spending his nights thinking about you. One night he has enough, and rides on his motorcycle down in the pouring rain and thunderstorm. He's at your doorstep and you open the door to this sopping wet creature and the first thing he says "I'm in love with you." with water dripping down his face. Then he pulls you into a searing kiss. (im writing a fic about this btw)

With Future DOFP Logan, he would meet you, a new professor at the school, and he's quickly taken aback. After some quite hellish adventures he's been on, you were a fresh breath of air for him. You both fall into something of relationship without realizing it- because it came so naturally. It's only one day you're talking to him, outside on the patio and he's smiling softly listening to you and he leans forward and pecks you on the lips. you look at him in surprise, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a real kiss

Origins! Logan takes you out on a romantic date, because he's classy like that. you share your first kiss over dinner, something sweet, and you could feel him smiling against your lips. He does it again after dinner, when he takes you home like a gentleman, you can feel his eagerness when he kisses you again, like he's trying to control himself, and he finally pulls away and wishes you goodnight (i mean, you're gonna have to invite him in)

97' Logan! He's giving you a pep talk after some bad shit went down on a mission, you feel like you could've done better, could've done more, even if everything you did do was enough. He's being unusually sweet and supportive and you leaned over and kissed him. You're surprised at yourself, but Logan isn't. He chuckles, telling you he gets it, he's irresistable, but then he kisses you again and can't stop (whos the irresistable one NOW Logan??)

I didn't mean for those to turn into first kisses prompts but enjoy. I have so many ideas of how first kisses with logan could go, these are just a few of many

pecking his cheek and his beard scratching your lips, but you actually really like how it feels

him rubbing and scratching his beard all over you to mess with you. It tickles but he's pinning you down and you're shrieking.

He keeps a picture of you on him at all times.

he loves hearing your stories. he wants to listen to you yap. he loves when you yap. even if it's useless stuff, the way you seem to enjoy and live life the way he never had before, he just can't get enough

helping him with his suit, you're zipping him up, but you press several kisses up his spine as you are zipping him. your lips sends shivers through him

helping him with a fancy suit. like suit and tie, (this would be cute for old man logan!). he's grumping and frumping about wearing it, but then you tell him how handsome he looks, and he smiles, and suddenly he's not so grumpy about it.

logan pressing soft kisses all over your face. bonus if it's after he hadn't seen you for awhile

okay but imagine after yall been together for awhile, maybe talking about getting a house together...

you guys "just look"

logan doesn't like anything. So he convinces charles to give him some land and goes and secretly builds a house for you. he recruits help from some others. he hires a designer to be able to get the parts he noticed you liked

you have NO idea. A year later, maybe 2, he brings you to it, and you're like "When did this house get here" and he tells you everything

logan definitely doesn't think things are "too much" when it comes to his devotion to you lets just say.

These are all i got for now! Keep an eye out for pt 3 :)

[pomefioredove]

hellooo !! can i please get a sugar cookie , #2 , with chocolate chips and powdered sugar ??

tc of urself n evrythingg !! i love ur works and i love reading ur writinggg its soo nice i love it <3

keep it up !! ur super duper cool !! o((>ω< ))o

AWEE thank you!! sorry this took so long to post ;w;

order #2, sugar with chocolate chips and powdered sugar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a presumptuous affair

summary: kalim mistakes you, a random barista, for jamil's date. you go along with it tropes: coffee shop au, fake dating characters: jamil additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu, use of y/n, a little kalim x yuu, kinda long, a kissy

As if today couldn't get any weirder...

For a moment, you had almost believed it was fortune. You made it to work on time despite the snow, your shift manager let you take the afternoon off, even your customers were feeling generous- your tip jar was almost to the brim.

And then it got weird.

"Jamil, look! See how cute these cookies are? It's like they're dressed up for the new year!"

That sparkly ray of sunshine has had his hands and nose pressed against the glass of the pastry case all morning. He's dressed in a Night Raven College uniform, but you can't imagine what someone so cute would be wearing it for.

"I just can't decide what to get! Everything looks so good!"

On the contrary, the taller, quieter, tired-looking boy, the one called Jamil, standing by the door, suited his uniform quite nicely.

"I'm sure the Prefect will be pleased with whatever you choose for them, Kalim. We're going to be late,"

The sparkly one (Kalim, was it?) pouts. "But this is our first new year's party together! Usually, I'd just buy everything, but they said..."

"Only one thing. I know. Surely, with all the time you spend together, you'd know their preferences,"

"I do! But it's hard... you'd understand if you had a date, too, Jamil,"

He narrows his eyes. "I'll be kept busy enough by the party,"

"Aw, that's no fun. You should enjoy yourself, too! If you need any help finding a date, I'd be happy to ask for you!"

"That is completely unnecessary-"

You finish wiping down the case, having shamelessly eavesdropped on the entire conversation. "May I make a pastry suggestion?"

Kalim's eyes widen, as if he'd forgotten you were standing behind the sparkly glass, but Jamil nods.

"Please, please do. And thank you..." his eyes dart down to the nametag on your apron. "Y/N."

"You guys know each other? Oh! I see," Kalim grins.

"Now I know why we came here instead of my favorite place- this is your date!"

The silence is almost worst than the bickering. You and Jamil (perfect strangers, by the way) exchange similar expressions of surprise, while Kalim grins, waiting to be introduced, or... something.

You open your mouth, but before you can explain yourself or the rather presumptuous affair, Jamil nods.

"Yes. This is them,"

He gives you a look that either says "please go along with it" or "I will make you go along with it" but you're too shocked to speak, anyway.

Kalim giggles. "This is perfect! Now I won't have to worry about you being lonely at the party. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to take away the attention from yourself and the Prefect," Jamil says, dryly, crossing his arms.

Kalim either doesn't notice his tone, or he ignores it.

"Aw, you guys don't have to worry about that! Here, I'll have one of those, and those... that date pastry for Jamil, and... here!"

He takes out a roll of thaumarks thicker than your hand and forces it into your tip jar.

Jamil's eyes widen with panic. "Kalim-"

"I want to make a good first impression!" he says, and then to you: "I can't wait to see you at the party!"

You finish bagging his pastries, shellshocked, and watch him skip out of the coffee shop like a little kid.

Jamil lingers, seemingly unbothered, and yet apologetic all the same.

"Sorry I dragged you into this, he's been begging for a double date all week. I'll tell him you're sick when the party comes around,"

He turns to leave. Your eyes dart between the tip jar, him, the boy outside, him, your coffee-stained hands, and him once more.

"Wait!"

Jamil stops, one hand on the door, and looks over his shoulder.

You try to stop yourself, but the words spill out of your lips anyway. "What time?"

You had never been inside Night Raven College, but the very last thing you were expecting it to be, anyhow, was warm.

You'd dressed in something thick and wooly for the winter weather, and now you're sweating, there's sand stuck under your nails and cool drinks are being passed from hand to hand.

"You're dressed like a penguin," Jamil whispers, holding you by the wrist and pulling you towards a closet, lined with gold and stuffed with coats and shoes from the partygoers.

"I didn't know it'd be hot!"

Jamil closes the door. "I suppose that was an oversight on my part. But I can't have you afflicted with heatstroke- not under my care, at least. Take off the coat,"

You do as he says. You've learned very little about Jamil over the evening, but he seems to know what he's doing.

"Better, but you're drenched in sweat. I'm sure we have dorm uniforms in your size somewhere..."

A loud, raucous noise that you can only assume was a cheer comes from beyond the door. You're not so sure you want to know.

Jamil notices the look on your face. "Too loud?"

"It's a little... much,"

He scoffs, though there's a smile on his lips, now. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose,"

He begins moving coats and shoes, boxes and chests, looking for something to cool you off. You sit on the floor behind him.

"I apologize again. For making you a part of this. I... didn't think you'd actually come," he says, facing away from you.

"I don't mind. I didn't have any plans for the holiday, anyway,"

Jamil makes a noise of acknowledgement, but, no words. You suppose he's trying to figure you out as much as you are him.

"...Ahem. Well, I'm... pleased to have you here. As much as it hurts to admit Kalim was right about one thing, I did need company today,"

"It's no problem,"

"It's some problem," Jamil scoffs, but he's smiling, too. "You'll have a headache for days after this."

"Then it'll be worth it,"

He seems to give up on finding a uniform, or perhaps he's just forgotten about it altogether, and he sits next to you.

You tilt your head to the side, a smile playing at your lips.

"I think Kalim was right about two things, actually,"

Jamil looks at you as if you'd hit your head on something and started speaking in tongues. "And what is that?"

You point up towards the heavens, or, rather, towards the ceiling of the closet, where a mistletoe has been poorly strung up.

"You should enjoy yourself, too,"

Jamil's eyes widen, but before he can ask who put that thing up there?! your kiss is on his cheek and his stoic demeanor is gone.

"Eh- what was that for?"

You could laugh at his expression, but you don't want to rub it in his bewildered face. Rather, you gently nudge his side.

"For being so kind,"

"Kind?" Jamil repeats the word as if he'd never heard it before. "I would hardly call myself that. I'm only... repaying the favor for your kindness."

You smile.

"I guess I'll just have to keep being nice to you, then,"

[nomie-11]

Ellie Williams x Reader, the Reader is immune like Ellie and both find out the other is immune while out on patrol. They have feelings for each other and when the truth comes out about their immunity and their feelings they start dating and eventually become a couple. If Joel is alive in the story maybe his reaction to there being another immune person.

Breathe Me In

masterlist!

synopsis: the above request!

pairings: ellie williams x reader

The floor gives way before either of you can react. One second, you’re moving through the abandoned building, snow melting off your boots, and the next, the rotten wood splinters beneath your feet. 

The world tilts. 

Your stomach lurches as you crash through layers of decay, falling hard onto your side in a pile of broken furniture and debris. Dust explodes around you—and despite the gas mask on your face—that wasn’t what made your breath catch. 

Spores. Thick, swirling clouds of them. 

Your heart pounds as you scramble up, your gas mask still snug over your face but your eyes immediately lock onto Ellie. The air was knocked from her chest, she’s coughing, and at first you think it's because she hit the floor so hard you could hear the air rush past her lips. But then you look up, watch her shake off the impact, and—her mask is cracked. 

A deep fracture splits the glass down the middle, already letting in the infection that should be filling her lungs. 

Your entire body goes cold. 

“Ellie!” Your voice cracks as you lurch forward, hands already ripping at the straps of your own mask. The rubber digs into your face as you yank it off, ignoring the awful sting as the air—thick with spores—hits your skin. Your only thought is her. Her, with her mask split, her with her lungs exposed to the infection, her with wide green eyes locking onto you in absolute horror. 

She’s on you in an instant, faster than you expected, fingers clawing at your wrists. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Ellie’s voice is sharp, bordering on desperate. 

You try to shove the mask at her, pressing it to her face, your grip shaking. “Put it on! Ellie, put it on, now—”

Her hands snap up to catch yours, her grip iron-tight. “No! Jesus, y/n! Keep it on!” She wrestles with you, trying to force the mask back over your own mouth, her panic rising. 

You don’t let her. You can’t let her. 

“Ellie, please! Just take it!” You push harder, trying to slip the straps over her head, but she’s fighting you like her life depends on it. And maybe she thinks it does. 

Ellie shoves at your hands, her breathing ragged, her green eyes wild with desperation. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You need to keep it on—just keep it on, okay?” Her voice cracks at the edges, and it kills you, the fear laced in her words. 

You shake your head violently, pushing against her resistance, your grip slipping against the sweat forming between your palms. “No, no, Ellie, you don’t understand! You need it more than I do—just put it on, please!”

She’s shaking now, her fingers digging into your wrists hard enough to bruise as she fights you, her entire body wound tight. “Stop it!” She practically begs, trying to force the mask back over your face, her voice trembling. “You don’t get it, you can’t—breathe this in—”

And fuck, if only she knew. 

But she doesn’t. 

Just like you don’t know about her. 

You can see the panic in her eyes, the way her chest heaves with frantic breaths, and it makes your own heart feel like it’s breaking apart, because she’s not scared for herself. She’s terrified for you. 

“Ellie—” Your voice wavers, your throat tightening. “Please, just take it. I can’t—” Your breath stutters, raw emotion bleeding into your words. “I can’t lose you.” 

Her face twists like you’ve just physically hurt her. 

And then she makes a split-second decision that nearly knocks the air from your lungs, yanking your hand down, the mask clattering to the floor as she grabs your face between her shaking fingers. 

Her forehead presses against yours, her breaths mixing with yours, warm and uneven. 

“No one’s losing anyone,” she whispers, her voice breaking on the words. “Not today. Not ever.” 

Tears sting at your eyes, your fingers curling into the fabric of her jacket as your body trembles with the weight that both of you are standing in the basement covered by spores without masks. The way she holds onto you, like you’re the only thing anchoring her to the ground. The way she’s so willing to put her secret at risk to save you, without hesitation, without question. 

And it’s unbearable, because you would do the same thing for her. You are doing the same thing for her. 

Ellie closes her eyes for a second, breathing you in, before she slowly pulls back just enough to look at you, her hands still cradling your face. 

“We have to go,” she says, her voice quieter now, but not less urgent. “We have to go before something shows up.” 

You nod, swallowing against the lump in your throat, your fingers reluctant to let go of her. “Okay.” 

Neither of you acknowledge the truth that hangs in the air between you. 

Not that you’re both still standing. Not that you’re both still breathing. Not that neither of you are infected. 

For now, you just hold onto each other, grip tight, fingers still trembling, as you push your way out of the ruined building, the weight of what just happened settling like a ghost between you. 

——————————————

The kitchen is silent. 

The kind of silence that weighs heavy, pressing into your skin like a damp cloth, suffocating in its own way. The only sounds are the occasional creaks of the old wooden house settling, the faint whistling of the wind slipping through gaps in the windowpanes, and Ellie’s foot tapping idly against the leg of the chair. 

Neither of you have spoken since you got back. Since you climbed out of that ruined basement, since you forced your breathing to slow, since you walked through the front door of Joel’s house Ike nothing had just shattered the foundation of your entire world. 

Ellie had thrown her jacket over the back of her chair, sat down, and you’d followed, dropping into the seat across from her. And now you’re here. Sitting. Waiting. 

For what, you’re not sure. 

The clock on the wall ticks. A fork in the sink shifts slightly. The sound makes Ellie’s jaw tightened, her fingers twitching against the wood of the table. 

You should say something. Maybe make a joke, ease the tension, bring up the fact that you’ve just experienced the most batshit insane moment of your life. That she's like you. That you’re like her. 

That you’re not alone. 

But the words won’t come. 

So the silence stretches. 

Until the front door swings open, and Joel steps inside, boots heavy on the wooden floor. He exhales as he shrugs off his coat, muttering something under his breath about the cold before turning toward the kitchen. 

And the second he sees the two of you, he stops. 

His brows furrow, gaze flicking between you and Ellie, taking in the way you’re both sitting there, shoulders tense, hands still. 

His expression shifts. “Alright,” he says slowly, crossing his arms, standing firm in the doorway. “What the hell is goin’ on with you two?” 

Neither of you answer. 

Ellie stares at the table. You focus on the small crack in the wood near the salt shaker. 

Joel’s gaze hardens. “Ellie.” 

She shifts slightly but doesn’t look up. 

“Y/n.” 

Your throat feels tight. You say nothing. 

Joel exhales through his nose, stepping further inside, letting the door shut behind him with a soft thud. “What, did y’all burn down a building or somethin’? Kill someone you weren’t supposed to?” His voice is gruff, laced with that sharp edge of concern he’s never quite been able to mask. 

Ellie’s fingers curl into her hoodie sleeves. 

Then, finally, she speaks. 

“You weren’t lying.” 

Joel’s frown deepens. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

Ellie lifts her head, finally meeting his eyes. And when she speaks again, it’s softer. Almost disbelieving. 

“There are others.” 

Joel’s whole body goes still. 

Ellie looks at you then, and it makes your heart stutter. 

“She’s immune.” 

Silence. 

Joel’s expression doesn’t change at first, like his brain hasn’t fully registered what she just said. But then his jaw clenches, his eyes darken just a little, and his arms drop to his sides. “That ain’t somethin’ you joke about, kiddo.” 

Ellie shakes her head, voice steady. “I’m not joking.”

Joel’s gaze shifts to you, and suddenly, you feel like you’re under a microscope, every inch of you being examined. You swallow hard. 

He stares for a long moment, then exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.” 

Ellie leans forward, eyes sharp. I saw it, Joel. We were in a basement filled with spores. My mask was off. Her mask was off.” She swallows, voice quieter. “Look at her. She’s fine.” 

Joel doesn’t speak, he just turns his gaze back to you, and this time, it’s not skepticism. It’s something else. Ellie is still staring at you, something new in her eye, relief flooding her softer gaze. 

You’ve both spent so long thinking you were alone, and now, suddenly you’re not.

Joel finally speaks. “You told anyone?” 

You shake your head again. “No.” 

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, muttering something like ‘fuck, I liked her more when they were just datin,’ 

Ellie is still looking at you, a hundred thoughts floating behind her eyes. Then, slowly, she traces a finger over the scar on her arm, buried under a chemical burn and layers of ink. “Where’d you get bit first?” 

You hesitate, before pulling up your shirt, revealing a similar mark, a faded bite on your hip. 

Ellie’s lips part slightly, looking between yours an hers, like she’s trying to make sense of it, like she’s seeing herself in you. 

“So, what now?” She asks, voice quieter, uncertain. 

Joel sighs, rubbing his temples. “Hell if I know.” 

But as you look at Ellie—someone who understands, someone who is like you—for the first time in years, you don’t feel alone. 

———————————

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and old wood as you and Ellie sat side by side on Joel’s porch. The rocking chairs he had made last winter creaked as you shifted slightly, your knees pulled up to your chest wile Ellie leans forward, elbows resting on her thighs. 

It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the good kind of quiet. The kind of quiet you only find when you’re sitting with someone who understands. 

Ellie exhales, tilting her head up to the sky. “You ever think about how fucking weird this is?”

You glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “You mean the whole ‘I should be dead, but I’m not’ thing?” 

She snorts. “Yeah. That.” 

Silence trenches between you again, but this time it’s different—warmer. It lingers, pressing against your ribs, curling around your fingers as you pick at the frayed hem of your jeans. 

“I wasn’t alone,” Ellie says suddenly, her voice quiet. “When I got bit, I mean.” 

You look over at her, but she’s still staring at the sky. 

Her fingers trace the mark on her arm absentmindedly. “Her name was Riley. She was my best friend. My…” she hesitates, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “More than that.” 

You don’t say anything, just let her have the space to breathe through it. 

Ellie sighs, her hands curling into fists. “We snuck into this mall together. We were just… being stupid kids, y’know? Drinking shitty alcohol, messing around, dancing like idiots.” A soft chuckle escapes her, but there’s no humor in it. “And then… the clickers came. I don’t even remember how it happened. One second, we were wearing Halloween masks and dancing, and the next, I’m curled into her side on the floor of the mall, my finger’s tracing over the bite on my arm.” 

Her voice gets quieter, barely above a whisper. “We decided to wait it out together. Just… go crazy together. But then she turned, and I didn’t.” 

She finally looks at you then, and there’s something raw in her eyes that makes your chest ache. “I kept waiting. I thought maybe it was just delayed. That maybe I’d turn later. But days passed, and nothing happened. And I had to—” she cuts herself off, blinking rapidly. 

You reach out, fingers brushing against hers, and she exhales shakily, but doesn’t pull away. 

“I was alone when I found out,” you admit, voice barely audible. “I was traveling with this group, people I barely knew. We got ambushed, and I got separated. A runner came out of nowhere, tackled me, and bit my hip just as I was about to shoot it.” You pause, your grip tightening slightly around Ellie’s hand. “I thought that was it. I just sat there, waiting to turn. Hours passed, then a day. Then another. And I was still me.” 

Ellie’s gaze is locked onto you now, her breathing slow and steady. 

“At first, I thought maybe I was just lucky. Maybe it was a fluke. But I couldn’t believe it, not really. So I tested it.” You swallow, your voice barely above a whisper. “Again. And Again.” 

Ellie’s fingers tighten around yours, her expression shifting. “What do you mean?” 

You turn your hand over, rolling up your sleeve, showing the faint, scattered scars along your arm. “I needed to be sure,” your voice is steady, but your heart pounds. “So I let them bite me.” 

Ellie inhales sharply. “Jesus, Y/n.” 

You shrug, but there’s no real weight to it. “I had to know. I had to be sure I wasn’t just hallucinating it.” You force out a chuckle, but it just comes out hollow. “Turns out, I’m really fucking immune.” 

Ellie shakes her head, her thumb tracing absent circles against your skin. “That’s… fucking insane.” 

“Yeah.”

Another pause. The wind picks up slightly, rustling the trees in the distance. 

Ellie shifted in her chair, turning more toward you, her leg brushing against yours. “You were really going to give me your mask back there, huh?” 

You met her gaze, something tender blooming between the two of you. 

“My secret wasn’t worth you dying,” you admit softly. “I wasn’t gonna let you die.” 

Ellie exhales, shaking her head with something between disbelief and fondness. “You’re an idiot.” 

You huff out a laugh. “So are you.” 

A small smile tugs at her lips, and Ellie watches you for a long moment, her fingers still brushing against yours, her eyes flickering down to your lips just once before darting back up. Your stomach flips. 

You don’t think you just move. 

Slowly, cautiously, you lean in. 

Ellie doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches, her fingers curling slightly against your palm as she tilts her head just enough to meet you halfway. 

It’s soft. hesitant. Just the barest brush of lips, warm and tentative, like neither of you are quite sure you’re allowed to have this. 

But then Ellie exhales against your mouth, something easing in her shoulders, and you both lean in just a little more. 

It’s not desperate, not rushed—just the quiet understanding of two people who have spent so long being alone, finally finding something, someone, who makes the world feel a little less heavy. 

When you finally pull back, Ellie’s eyes are still closed, her lips parted slightly. 

She breathes out a laugh, quiet and disbelieving. “I think I like you.”

You grin, heartbeat hammering. “Yeah?” 

Ellie opens her eyes, and there’s something so soft in the deep forest green that your heart feels as though it’s being squeezed. 

“Yeah.” 

The wind whistles through the trees, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can finally breathe. 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[scary-grace]

sips drink. I am going to need. [ ring ] for shigraki

Thank you for the prompt! As usual, I went a little berserk with it, and there is. so much smut in this. If you're not a fan/this is not the vibe, let me know and I'll write you a different one, or do a better job with your other prompts! 9k, AU with demons, succubus!reader, tons of smut. If you're a big fan of super dominant Tomura, this is not the fic for that. MDNI + thanks to @dogblessyoutascha for beta-reading on short notice and putting up with tons of yapping and fic about this guy.

wanted (if you want me)

a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a down-on-your-luck succubus who just got rejected by the guy who summoned you, and you can't go back to Hell until you find somebody else's soul to steal. Shigaraki Tomura, reeling from a Valentine's Day rejection of his own, is the perfect victim. Or so you think. (cross-posted to Ao3)

“Sorry,” the guy who just summoned you says, sitting back from the pentagram he’s drawn on the floor with a frown. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m – what?” You feel stupid, which isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You’re a demon, and a mortal’s just summoned you. You should feel powerful and lawless, not embarrassed. Not rejected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not my type,” the guy says again. He gestures awkwardly at you. “I was hoping for somebody – more.”

“Did you want a guy or something?” you ask. You cross your arms over your chest. Your clothes are barely worthy of the title, and you don’t want this guy seeing your nipples if he’s not even into them. “If you wanted a guy, you should have summoned an incubus. It’s not my fault you can’t read.”

“I like girls,” the guy snaps at you, rather than addressing the fact that you just called him a moron. “You were supposed to look like this.”

He picks up the grimoire he was reading the incantation out of and holds it up to you. It must be a new edition of the same old grimoire, because the last version of it you saw didn’t include illustrations. The illustration in question is a demon, identifiable as such by her horns and tail, but she looks about as much like you as you do like an angel straight from Heaven’s hideous art-deco gates. She’s got the kind of proportions that don’t work on Earth or in Hell – tiny waist, enormous breasts, ass that needs its own zip code, and her outfit is so tiny that you can see her nipples and her clit through it. And then there’s the face she’s making, straight out of some seedy erotic magazine, with blown-out pupils and open mouth and a delicate flush across her cheeks, all ready to be ruined.

Your outfit is skimpy, sure, but not that skimpy. You have the parts you need, but they aren’t that exaggerated, and if you tried that stupid expression, you’re pretty sure your face would melt off. If this is what this mortal expected, of course he’s disappointed to have gotten you.

His disappointment isn’t your problem, and now you’re in a mood. “Let me get this straight. You summoned a succubus – a sex demon from the depths of Hell – to fulfill your fantasies, and you’ve decided that now’s the time to get picky.”

“I’m not being picky,” he says. “Girls like you don’t do it for me. Can’t you send somebody else?”

“Sorry. All my sisters are seducing hotter mortals than you.” You feel a surge of pleasure at the way the man flinches. Guys like these – when they summon a succubus, they’re always thinking about the sex part, not the part where you’re a demon. “They took one look at you and decided I was all you deserved, and you know what? I don’t think you deserve me, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you, so –”

“In fact,” you continue, rising to your feet and internally cursing the fact that you decided to materialize in fuck-me heels, “I don’t think you deserve to get laid ever again.”

The mortal blanches. “What?” he demands, taking a step back as you step forward out of the pentagram. “You can’t leave the circle unless I say.”

“You really should look into those reading lessons. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands.” You were just going to lay the curse, but you decide that’s not enough. You nail him in the balls with a sharp kick, and as he doubles over, you speak, your voice crackling with the fires of Hell. “May your erections always wither, no matter how much porn you watch or how many drugs you take. May you disappoint every lover you take to your bed, and may that bed lie as cold and empty as the grave where they’ll bury your impotent corpse.”

It's a pretty good curse, if you say so yourself. “You bitch,” the mortal spits, but you snap your fingers and seal his fate. You know the moment the curse settles over him. You see the despair in his eyes. “Take it back!”

“No,” you say. You grasp his chin in one hand and lean in close, so close that your breath huffs out against his lips. You scraped your tongue for this guy. He deserves all this and more. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses to the floor. You step over his unconscious form and survey the apartment you’ve found yourself in, dingy and filthy and smelling unpleasantly of human body odor. This is the kind of mortal who thought it was wise to reject you, just because you didn’t exactly resemble the absurd sketch in his grimoire. This is the kind of mortal who thought you weren’t good enough for him. Your lower lip begins to tremble, no matter how hard you sink your sharp teeth into it, and sulfuric tears begin to leak from your eyes. You were so excited to be summoned, so hopeful that you could do a good job for once. Now you just want to go home.

But you can’t. When you try to dematerialize and let Hell call you back, you can’t, and you realize why not in the same second as you realize that you didn’t curse that human nearly hard enough. You were summoned to this world to serve a purpose – to fuck some mortal so hard that they’ll sell you their soul – and until you serve that purpose, you’re trapped here. You need to find a mortal to sleep with, immediately. And you can’t go out looking like this.

You ransack the mortal’s apartment. None of his street clothes are anything you’d be caught exorcised wearing, but he has a long coat that he probably thinks makes him look mysterious and cool. You shrug it on, noting that it covers your skimpy outfit while still providing easy access to your body when it’s time to take it off, and keep searching, in case there’s anything else you can use. Money, as it happens – this human has a bank account and credit cards, and even unconscious, it’s all too easy to read his mind for the PIN. You pocket all of it, hide your demon form with a glamour, then leave the apartment door wide open on your way out.

As soon as you hit the street, though, you realize that you have an even bigger problem than you thought. You assumed it was some featureless winter evening, the kind where a bored, lonely mortal has nothing better to do than flip through a grimoire and get himself into trouble, but every storefront you look at is decorated with hearts. Every mortal you pass on the street is on someone else’s arm, or carrying flowers, or making out in the glow of a streetlight. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re fucked.

Contrary to what humans like the idiot who summoned you think, Valentine’s Day isn’t actually about sex. Sex is a side effect of what Valentine’s Day is really about, which is romance. It’s about love and soulmates and tenderness and affection and forever, which is exactly nothing you know anything about. Succubi and incubi exist on the dark side of all of that, in its nasty, sleazy, prurient shadow. You don’t court, you seduce. You don’t make love, you fuck. You don’t show people the face of God, or whatever that dumb-ass musical says; you show them the gates of Hell and walk them through. Seducing a random mortal is a tall order for you on a given day. Seducing one on Valentine’s Day is going to be damn near impossible.

You feel tears welling up again and blink them back. Crying over rejection from a filthy, useless mortal was bad enough. Demons shouldn’t feel that kind of pain, and if they do, they shouldn’t wallow in it. Demons get the job done. And it’s not totally hopeless, when you force yourself to be honest about it. For all the mortals who are happily coupled, there are plenty who aren’t, and if the mortal who summoned you is anything to judge by, some of them aren’t averse to a little salacious, damnation-worthy fun.

As far as places to find single humans go, you’re spoiled for choice; while all the restaurants have Valentine’s Day specials for mortals out on a date with their special someone, it seems as though every club or bar is advertising an event for singles. You peer into a few bars, but none of them strike you as having the right mood. Most of them carry a pathetic air of hopefulness, as if the humans within believe they really might find someone to love tonight of all nights. You don’t need hopefulness. You need desperation. You need a human so lonely and desperate that they won’t question why a stranger wants to fuck them. If you were attractive in your human guise, you’d have a better shot, but apparently you aren’t. Only a human who’s truly desperate would go for you.

Finally you come across a bar where the mood seems a little more appropriate. Some sort of singles event is winding down as you come in, and you sense the despair beginning to set in. Most of the humans here could easily pair up with one of the others if they were willing to alter their standards, but humans have gotten entitled these days, and they all think they deserve a partner who matches their ideals. They cling to that fiction even as the mood in the bar worsens. They don’t need to settle. They’re holding out for true love.

Pathetic. You square your shoulders and wade into the mix.

The gender of your target doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t even matter if they’re willing to sell their soul tonight – once you’ve fucked them, you can come back as many times as it takes for them to give it over. But even with your criteria broadened, you’re having trouble. As you search through the humans, tasting the flavor of their emotions every time you brush against one, you don’t find a single one who feels the way you need them to.

You taste sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Resignation or acceptance – sometimes they’re hard to tell apart. A few strange humans have even found refuge in faith, some idiosyncratic hope that they’ll find what they’re meant to find when the time is right, as if God has time to ordain such stupid things. On another night, you’d take pleasure in crushing their hopes, but your own hopes of getting out of here are sinking by the second. You need a human. Any human will do.

But just as you’re resigning yourself to seduce a woman, one whose loneliness carries just the faintest tinge of despair, you’re hit with a wave of exactly what you’ve been looking for. Not just despair, but disappointment. Not just loneliness, but hurt. Not just resignation, but frustration and embarrassment, at feeling hurt and disappointed and finding themselves here at all. You turn away from the woman without ever drawing her attention to you and follow the thread of rejection through the bar to a booth in the corner, where a mortal sits alone.

Along with the relief of finding a target at last, the first feeling that crosses your mind is surprise.  This isn’t the sort of mortal you’d expect to find alone on Valentine’s Day, just based on his looks alone – almost-delicate facial features, long white hair, a frame that’s broad-shouldered yet lithe, observable even when he’s seated. As you get closer, you see a birthmark below the corner of his mouth, scars over his mouth and eye, and long lashes framing his crimson eyes. This mortal is pretty. Some of your sisters don’t care what their targets look like, but you like your mortal men pretty.

The mortal looks up as you come to the edge of his table. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “You’re late to the party.”

“Apparently not, since you’re here. Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are hurting in these shoes.”

He looks down at your shoes, and just like you were hoping, his eyes trace upwards, over your bare ankle to your calf to your knee before it disappears beneath your stolen coat. “Go ahead,” he says. “There’s room.”

There’s plenty of room, but you sit down next to him anyway, your leg pressed against his. You feel him startle, feel him go tense, and decide it’s worth drawing attention to. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” he says, but you can hear his heart beginning to race. “Just wondering if this is a setup or something. People like you don’t usually want anything to do with people like me.”

“People like me?” you say. You turn towards him, elbow propped on the table, chin propped in your hand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” your mortal says. “Looks like yours, there’s no way you’re single.”

You can’t imagine this mortal’s self-deprecating angle working on anyone, but the compliment makes you glow ever so slightly. “Strange. I was thinking the same about you.”

Your mortal doesn’t glow. He blushes. “Don’t lie.”

“Would I lie?” Yes, frequently and gleefully – but not right now. “You’re gorgeous.”

He scoffs, averts his eyes, but his heart’s beating faster. It’s cute, and since he’s opened this door, you might as well walk through. Time for a little touching. You start with the scar above his eye. “I like this, and this –” you trace the scar, then tuck a few strands of white hair behind his ear, letting your fingers graze across his cheek and down to his jaw before reaching the scar over his mouth. “And this –”

He speaks while your fingers are still against his lips. “Careful.”

“I’m being really careful,” you promise. You run your fingers over his mouth again, slow and teasing, then turn your attention to the birthmark. “And I like this. It really completes the picture. Whoever rejected you tonight, they were out of their mind.”

“I could say the same about whoever rejected you.” Your mortal’s hand brushes against your knee, then drifts away, and you shiver ever so slightly. You like this mortal. It’s always easier when you like them. “I saw you watching the rest of them. Why did you pick me?”

“Like I said, you’re gorgeous,” you say, and shrug. The shrug presses you a little closer against him, and you don’t pull back. “And you looked like you were having the same kind of night as I am. I thought we could make each other feel better.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away. Oh, you like this one. Even if he gives you his soul tonight, you’ll come back to visit him at least a few more times. “How do you think we can do that?”

“By giving each other what we want,” you say. “Don’t you get tired of having to play a part, to be what someone else expects you to be, and never have your desires fulfilled? I could give you that.”

He scoffs. “You think you know what my desires are?”

“You’d tell me,” you murmur. “That’s the point.”

Your mortal’s skepticism doesn’t fade, but neither does his blush. “What about what you want? I don’t buy for a second that it’s just to sleep with me.”

The question gives you pause. It’s not one you’ve thought of before. Succubi don’t have sexual desires, really – your goal is always to seduce your target, which means it’s all about what your target wants. You aren’t very good at your job, but you’ve put up with all sorts of things, doing them or having them done to you, if it means the mortal you’re fucking will hand over their soul. What you want, personally, doesn’t factor in even slightly. What do you want from this mortal? You don’t know.

“You don’t know,” your mortal says, as though you’ve spoken aloud. His hand brushes against your leg again, settles there. “I’ll help you find out.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” you insist, as he brushes your coat aside and finds your leg bare. His fingertips are dry and rough as they trail over your skin, brushing the inside of your thigh. “Oh –”

“Too much?” he asks. There’s an almost wicked glint in his eye.

You feel your own heart pick up the pace. This will be a challenge. You like a challenge. “Answer my question first. Every time you answer, you can move your hand.”

“I want you.”

“Wrong answer.” You close your legs, not that they were that far apart in the first place. You’re not easy. “I asked about your unfulfilled desires, and you just met me today. I can’t be the only thing you want.”

“Mm.” Your mortal makes a dissatisfied noise. Even as he leaves his hand in place, you see an awkwardness settle over him – nerves, or something like it. For such a gorgeous mortal, he’s an interesting contradiction. “I want – to be out of control.”

“Out of control?” You won’t open your legs just yet. “Tell me more.”

“You were right about me. I’m always doing what others want. I always have to be in control. I want to be outside my own control,” your mortal says. He can’t meet your eyes, and the flush in his cheeks looks almost uncomfortable. When you lean in to kiss it, his skin is hot beneath your lips. “I want someone else to –”

“Praise you? Worship you? Pleasure you until you can barely think?” You know you’ve got him by the sharp intake of breath, by the way he startles. “That would be my pleasure, too.”

You part your legs enough to free his hand, and his fingers, shaking slightly, work their way up the inside of your thigh. “What else?” you ask. “Be specific.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” He turns his head, looking away, which is an error on his part; it leaves his neck exposed, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his pulse jump and race. “If I tell you it’s too much, I want you to give me more.”

“That was a good answer.” You part your legs a little further, and he takes it as the invitation it is. “Anything else?”

“I want to do the same to you,” your mortal says, and your face flushes. “It’s only fair. If you get to ruin me, I get to ruin you.”

Ruining him calls to mind all sorts of things, acts you’ve performed for other mortals by rote, acts you want nothing more than to perform for him, and the thought overwhelms you enough that you miss what he’s doing with his hand between your legs until he’s touching you, tracing your clit through the thin fabric. You realize with some degree of horror that you’re wet, and worse, that even his delicate touch has you spreading your legs wider. While you weren’t paying attention, your mortal made a bid for the upper hand, and he almost got it.

Not quite, though. You renew your efforts on his neck, feeling him shudder. You’ll do as he asks, as he desires – but not until he begs you, out loud, to give him what he needs. He shifts, squirms, in response to your attentions to his neck, much as you’re doing with his hand between your legs. “Mutual ruination,” you muse. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Your hand’s been trapped at your side. You work it free and slip it behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Then you turn him back to face you, drinking in the sight of him for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. The only way your mortal’s never had his desires fulfilled is if he’s never voiced them. You can’t imagine anyone looking at him, seeing him like this, and denying him what he wants.

Most mortals you’ve seduced lose patience with kissing quickly. The kind of mortals who summon a succubus only have one thing on their mind, but your mortal doesn’t know what you are. He kisses you eagerly, if inexpertly, and it’s only right for you to reward his enthusiasm. Besides, there’s something about kissing him that feels right, too right for the unholiness of what you are. If being with a mortal feels this good, you’re probably doing it wrong.

What does it matter? As long as you sleep with him, you’ll be free to return home. You’re a demon. Wrongness and rightness don’t factor in. You kiss your mortal carefully, paying some mind to the sharpness of your teeth and the delicateness of his skin. He’s less careful with his teeth. They nick your lip and blood wells out, and he licks it away without a moment’s hesitation. That flick of his tongue makes you consider other places it might belong, and you catch your breath. Or maybe it’s because he’s tugged your underwear aside to touch you directly, and you can no longer ignore the way he makes you feel.

You lean back, struggling to clear your head. A thought crosses your mind. “What’s your name?”

“Tomura.” Your mortal’s crimson eyes are dilated with want, the desperation you were so drawn to evident across his face. “Please –”

You kiss him again, and as he begins to finger you in earnest, stroking your clit and dipping his fingers shallowly inside you, you untangle your fingers from his hair and trace the inside of his thigh. Tomura startles at your touch, but spreads his legs at once, and your head spins with want. “How long have you wanted this?” you murmur against his lips. “Tell me.”

“Eternity.” Tomura twitches as you brush your hand over his groin before returning to toy with his thigh again. “But it’s not what they want me for. Nobody asked what I wanted until you.”

“Then they were missing out.” You bite back a gasp as Tomura sinks two fingers inside you, curling them just so, but his touch is only half the reason – the other half is the thought that you’re the first to see him this way, the only one to see him this way. “If they could see how pretty you are like this –”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” you decide at once. You brush your hand over his groin again, noting how tightly his pants are stretched over his hardening cock. “I want you all to myself.”

His body jerks, craning upwards into your touch. “Now,” he says, almost demands. “I need it now.”

“People could see,” you warn. “If they walk by, they’ll know we’re up to something. Do you care about that?”

“Yes,” Tomura says, and you run your thumb over the tip of his cock through his pants. His body jerks, and you do it again. Again. “Fuck –”

“We can leave whenever you want,” you say, even as your body tenses around his fingers. You feel wound tight, your legs shaking from the strain, your lungs feeling as though they can’t hold on to even a single whisper of air. Mortals have choked you before while you’re seducing them and it’s never been like this. “Tell me to stop and we’ll go.”

Tomura doesn’t tell you to stop. You undo his belt, unzip his pants, and the instant your hand closes around his cock, he moans, loud enough to attract attention if anyone from the failed singles event is still around. He’s embarrassed by it – you can tell – but he doesn’t tell you to stop, and you keep stroking his cock. “So pretty,” you say, your voice catching as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. “Does that feel good? Let me make you feel even better.”

You grasp his wrist and pull his hand from between your legs, thankful for the reprieve. Tomura tastes his fingers, savoring them in a way that makes you feel almost awkward. “I wasn’t done.”

“No, but you’re about to make a mess.” You give a pointed glance down at his cock, which is oozing enough precum to stain his underwear. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s plenty of space for you under the table, and better yet, you’re out of sight, which means Tomura can’t see your reaction to the way he spreads his legs for you. And you haven’t vanished a moment too soon. You can hear footsteps approaching, and you sit forward and take his cock in your mouth just as the newcomers arrive.

“You sure you need this whole booth when you’re by yourself?” whoever it is asks. You hear Tomura start to answer, but you suck lightly on the tip of his cock, forcing him to bite back a curse. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Tomura grunts. You put your tongue to use, tracing it over his tip as you wrap your hand around the rest of his length. “Fuck – fuck off. There are other places to sit.”

The newcomer might say something else, but you can’t hear it around your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Tomura wants you. He wants you so badly that he’s letting you blow him in public, that he won’t tell you to stop even when the two of you might be caught. The instant the other mortal leaves, you’re cradling his balls in your free hand, then sliding your hand a little further to press against his taint. Tomura’s entire body jerks and trembles. “Careful,” he forces out between gasps of air. “I’m going to – come –”

You wish you weren’t under the table, even if being under the table is necessary to contain the mess. You wish you could see Tomura’s face as his composure shatters, as he tries and fails to thrust upwards into your mouth and spills a ridiculous amount of cum down your throat. But he’s not quite out of control, not yet, and if you’re going to steal his soul, you really should give him what he wants first. You keep stroking his cock even as the shaking subsides, your tongue still dragging over his tip. He hasn’t gone soft just yet. You’re kind of impressed.

You’re impressed, too, with how he holds out. You know you’re overstimulating him, but he hasn’t told you to stop yet. And he asked you to keep going even if he told you it was too much. Still, you don’t like the idea of hurting your mortal. You renew your efforts, employing all the tricks you’ve learned to keep mortal men hanging on your every move, and to your shock, Tomura comes again. This time he’s almost sobbing, and you draw back at once, climbing out from under the table to check on your handiwork.

There are scratches in the couch cushions and on the tabletop, and both the napkins that were on the table have been crumpled out of existence. Tomura looks wrecked. He’s been yanking at the collar of his shirt, running his hands through his hair, and his face is flushed and sweaty. His eyes are blurred, and he’s still breathing hard, but when you lean in to kiss him, he obliges instantly. He’s unsteady, and yet there’s a strange hunger in the way he kisses you, a hunger that takes yours and amplifies it in a way you can’t quantify, let alone guard against. You find yourself melting into his touch, needing closeness, needing contact. And he gives it to you.

You’ve only just settled into a languid pace, your hands in his hair and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, when someone smacks a server’s tray down on the table and startles you out of it. It’s the bartender. “Do you mind?” she demands, her face red. “This isn’t that kind of place! Take it outside.”

That’s fine with you. A little PDA is one thing, but whatever happens next between you and Tomura, you want privacy for it. You start to slide out of the booth, but Tomura won’t let you. He kisses you again, and you realize he’s giving himself cover to button his pants. But as long as you’re here – “What did I just say?” the bartender explodes. “Get out!”

You and Tomura stumble out onto the street, and the instant the door shuts behind you, Tomura pins you against it to kiss you again. “Does that feel good?” he asks, the same question you asked him earlier. You didn’t give him a chance to answer, and he doesn’t give you one, either. “Let’s go somewhere. You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to share.”

“Where should we go?” you ask. “I’d rather not go to a love hotel. Your place?”

He hesitates for a moment. “My place. Come on.”

You kiss on the train platform, mostly to keep out the cold, but on the train, you find yourself simply looking at Tomura, talking to him. You find out that he got rejected tonight, too, and came to the bar to mope about it. “They’re nothing. Their opinions don’t matter,” he says. Even his disdain sounds like yours. “That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know,” you say. You lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your left hand intertwined with his right. “My – date – said I wasn’t his type, then showed me this ridiculous drawing –”

“May his dick shrivel up and fall off,” Tomura says matter-of-factly, and you find yourself giggling. “If you aren’t enough for him, he doesn’t deserve to have any at all. Still –”

He trails off. “His loss, my gain.”

“You’re just saying that because I blew you.”

Tomura snorts. “Don’t be stupid. You asked what I wanted. Nobody’s ever asked me that. That’s not what I’m for.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He doesn’t strike you as a sex worker – he’s too earnest, too vulnerable, in how he responds to you for it to be his day job. He shrugs, shakes his head. “I think you’re for whatever you want to be for. That’s how you are to me.”

His grip on your hand tightens for a moment, then loosens again, fingers tangling with yours. A strange spark, like an electric shock, ripples across your hand, and you look down to see an odd shadow around your ring finger. That wasn’t there before, but then again, you’ve never spent this long in the mortal world without fulfilling your purpose. “What about you?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you know what you want?”

“I never thought about it before.” Some of your sisters enjoy their jobs, but it’s always felt like a job to you. Something to get through, so you can go home. “It hasn’t really mattered.”

“It matters now,” Tomura says. “When we get back to my place, I’ll show you.”

Tomura’s place is in a downtown high-rise, the third floor from the top of the building, and he gives you long enough to finally step out of your awful shoes before he peels you out of your jacket. For a single moment you’re convinced you’re about to see the same reaction as the mortal who summoned you, but instead Tomura’s eyes travel slowly over your form, lingering in every place you’d expect and a few places you didn’t. “This picture he showed you,” he says. “The one he thought was better than you. What did it look like?”

“Uh –” Where do you start, really? “The proportions were totally off. Its waist was tiny, and its breasts were huge –”

“Huh.” Tomura’s hands are at your waist, running over the curve from torso to hip and back with a firm, steady touch. One stays there, but the other migrates upwards, cupping your breast through your scant clothing. “What else?”

“It had this stupid outfit on. Like, way smaller than mine. You could see everything,” you say. Tomura’s thumb brushes over your nipple, then comes back to circle it, and heat begins to pool in your lower abdomen. “It barely covered her nipples – or her clit. It just looked kind of – I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, but –”

Your voice catches. Tomura’s hand slides from your waist down between your legs, stroking your clit with his middle finger. His touch is featherlight, compared to the way he’s playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging it, making you squirm. “What else?” he prompts.

“The stupid face she was making. It was straight out of a porno – like, one of the really cheap ones. What some guy who’s never seen a woman come before would –” You startle as Tomura’s fingers slip further between your legs, then sink easily into you. “Tomura –”

“This drawing sounds like a fucking mess,” Tomura says. He reaches down and grasps your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist and leaving you even more exposed for him. “I want to see the real thing.”

He wants you to come for him. You know how to fake a convincing orgasm – or an unconvincing one, depending on the target – but you don’t want to fake for Tomura. You promised him he can have what he wants, and he wants this, you. Your chest goes tight. “I don’t know if I can, like this.”

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” Tomura kisses you, and that need to melt into him resurfaces, even as your body responds to his onslaught. “Show me.”

You try to keep kissing him, but you can’t. Your legs are shaking again, and it’s hard to breathe, and you have to draw back to gasp for air. Somewhere in the back of your mind is the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, that something went wrong in your seduction of this mortal if he’s the one trying to please you, but it’s stifled by other, more pressing matters. The heat flooding through you, the awful and yet indescribable exposure of your legs spread this way, Tomura’s hand anchoring you so you can’t pull back off his fingers until he’s done with you.

Or until you’re done with him. You come hard enough to blur your vision, hard enough that your legs almost give out, and Tomura keeps his fingers inside you until your twitching and squirming subsides. When he draws them back, you can see that his hand is soaked. He brings them to his mouth to taste them again, and you spot a shadow around his fourth finger. It can’t hold your attention for long. “That was good,” he decides. “But I want to see more.”

“More?” Your voice is shaky, and you’re hanging onto Tomura for dear life. “What do you mean?”

“You said I could have what I wanted,” Tomura reminds you. “This way.”

You follow him down the hall on shaky legs, into a bedroom with an enormous bed. Finally. You’re not getting into bed with Tomura still wearing your horrible outfit, so you peel it off, then turn to help him with his clothes. You undress him slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncover, trying to regain some of your lost composure. But it’s hard to compose yourself when there’s so much of him to explore, to praise. So pretty, so noisy, so needy even when there’s no need for it – because you want him to have what he wants, and you want to be the one who gives it to him. The only one who gives it to him.

And that’s what you find yourself murmuring, as you guide him down to the bed to lie on his stomach, as you brush his long hair aside to kiss his back and his shoulders. I have what you need. Everything you need. You’re mine.

Tomura’s breathing turned quick and shallow a while ago, worse as you kiss the small of his back, the arch of his hip. He stirs beneath you. “I want to see more,” he says. “On your back.”

He’ll fuck you now, and he’ll come, and then you can finally go home. You spread your legs, leaving room for him to settle between them, and he does – much further down than you expected. He anchors your hips to the bed before you can stop him, holding you down with strong hands as he lowers his head between your thighs. The way his hair brushes against them tickles. The marks he leaves on them are oversensitive, making your legs twinge long before his tongue drags over your clit, and you wonder how you’ll explain the marks when you get back to Hell. How you’ll explain the fact that this mortal seduced you almost as skillfully as you seduced him.

Tomura eats you out messily, enthusiastically, until you’re arching your back and thrashing in his grip. The heat of his mouth against you, the pressure of his tongue against your clit or the way it feels when he licks inside of you – it all feels almost sinful. Too good for you to have, too good to want more of, too good not to beg him to keep going. You can barely manage to praise him for it, but when you do, his grip on your hips tightens and he grinds against the mattress. It’s wrong. There’s something wrong, and you want it so badly, and for the first time, you understand a little bit of why humans are so quick to sell their souls.

Tomura makes you come once, then a second time while you’re still trying to recover, and you barely manage to scramble away before he can slide his fingers inside you and try for a third. “What happened to not being in control?” you ask, and he shrugs, half a smirk on his face. “Lie down. It’s my turn.”

You crawl over him as he lies back, tasting yourself on his lips when you lean down for a kiss. Tomura relaxes so easily for you now, so much that he lets you grasp his hands one by one, raising them above his head. For the first time since you cloaked your true form, you engage in a little bit of demon magic. Enough to conjure restraints, and tie Tomura’s hands to the headboard before he can so much as open his eyes.

You’ve shocked him. You can see it, and better yet, you can feel it, in the way his skin heats up and his heart races. “You said you didn’t want control,” you remind him. “And I said I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t think.”

“Are you?” Tomura’s voice goes raspy. He watches you with wide eyes as you shift further down on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

“Everything.”

You learned all sorts of magic in the course of stepping into your role as a succubus, but this is the first time in a while that you’ve used any of it. And it’s for small things – the restraints on Tomura’s hands, the feather you conjure to trace all over his body until he squirms, the lube you coat your fingers with before you start working them inside him. Tomura doesn’t stop you, but he has a request. “Don’t fuck me like that. Not tonight.”

“Just my fingers,” you promise, and he nods, his eyes dark with need. “Whatever you want.”

You haven’t had the chance to watch Tomura come yet, and you get a chance as you finger him to an orgasm. He takes your breath away, your mortal – so pretty, so vulnerable, so loud and expressive and lost in it that you can’t help but stroke his cock with your free hand while you work him up a second time. In an ordinary seduction, with an ordinary target, now is when you’d stop. Now, when all he can do is beg for you, now when he’d give you anything to keep going; right now is when you’d ask for his soul in exchange. You know how to phrase it so that the mortals never guess what they’re truly giving up. It would be easy.

And it’s not what you want. There aren’t words for how much you don’t want that. Not when you’ve earned your mortal’s trust, not when he’s certain enough that you’ll give him what he wants that he doesn’t feel shame in begging for it. You know Tomura’s close when he starts squirming away from your fingers rather than clenching down on them. “Ride me,” he pants. “Ride my cock.”

Demon magic cleans your hands, and you slip down onto his cock with only a little strain. “You’re perfect,” you tell him as he stares helplessly up at you. “We fit so well –”

Tomura’s hips jerk upwards beneath you, making you gasp. “If we fit so well, come on my cock,” he pants. He’s been yanking at the restraints. You made them soft, but his wrists are chafed. “I need you to. I can’t – fuck, I need you –”

You’ve never needed a mortal before. You’ve never needed anyone before, but you need him, enough that doing what he asks doesn’t feel far-fetched at all. You ride him slowly, finding an angle that suits you, realizing how sore you are in the same moment. It’s been a hard night’s work. Usually mortals can’t keep up with you, and usually it feels like work. Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl uselessly as he fights the restraints, and you reach up to grasp them, to hold them steady. And that’s when you notice it – the same shadow marking around his fourth finger as around yours.

Where did that come from? What is that? The restraints you conjured vanish in the space of a single heartbeat, and Tomura’s hands clamp down on your hips, guiding you as he thrusts upwards. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat, to his chest and his shoulders and the sides of his neck, and the same heat writhes beneath your own skin as Tomura takes control over your pace. His thrusts are unsteady, but every time, he finds the angle you need him to.

You can’t breathe. You can barely think. Everything narrows down to heat and pressure and friction and pleasure and agony, because your body’s wrung out and still needs more, because Tomura’s falling apart beneath you and pressing his thumb over your clit to take you down with him. Pleasure explodes through you, collapsing you on top of Tomura. His grip on you barely loosens, even as your efforts to hold onto anything fall away. Anything includes your human guise.

Damn it. You untangle yourself from Tomura as quickly as possible, only to tuck yourself in against his side, uncomfortably relieved when he holds you tight. If you keep your tail under control and he doesn’t get a good look at you, he’ll never know what you really were. He’ll know something’s up, though. When he wakes up and finds that you’ve vanished out of this world, leaving evidence only in the chafe-marks around his wrists and the taste of you still on his tongue, he’ll know there was something strange about you. And he’ll have a lot of questions when you come back.

And you will come back. That’s the only thing that makes the knowledge that you’re mere moments from being drawn back to Hell bearable. Most of the time you can’t wait to leave your targets, whether you’ve collected their souls or not. This time, though – “I don’t want to leave yet.”

But you weren’t the only one speaking. Tomura said the same thing, on the off-beats as you spoke. “You’re leaving?” you ask. “This is your house. Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Tomura retorts. His grip on you tightens further – tight enough to bruise, if you were human or mortal. “What –”

He sits up suddenly, pulling you with him. Hell is pulling you back, but not quickly enough. Tomura looks at you, sees you – sees your horns, sees your tail, which is lashing anxiously in spite of your efforts to calm yourself. But you see him, too. You see the ram’s horns curling from beneath his white hair, the sharpness of his teeth. He’s not trying to control his tail at all. It wraps around your leg tightly. “You’re a demon.”

“So are you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you know?” You try to separate yourself from him. Tomura should be letting go of you, should be shoving you away, but he’s still holding on, tighter every time you try to pull away. “Let go. If they find out –”

The world tears open around the two of you, well before you can pull away, and Hell pulls you back in at warp speed.

You don’t end up back in the spot you dematerialized from, and you doubt Tomura does, either. The two of you crash down on a rocky plateau, just on the outskirts of one of the cities, a desolate place no one comes to unless they’ve been cast out to wander amongst the souls of the dead. Why are you here? Is it because you came back together? Maybe that’s why – it couldn’t return you to your separate summoning locations when you’re so close together, so it split the difference and dropped you off here. Maybe there’s still time for you to hide this.

“Wow,” a familiar voice announces from somewhere behind you, and your heart sinks, “have the two of you fucked up.”

Tomura swears under his breath. “Is that your boss?”

Your boss, or your mother – nobody’s clear on which. Nemuri is picking her way through the jagged stones towards you, a vicious smirk on her face. “I can explain,” you start. “It’s not –”

“I tricked her,” Tomura interrupts. You stare at him in horror. “It was me. Not her.”

“No,” you snap. “I seduced him. I’m the one who –”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Nemuri’s smirk broadens, showing her fangs. “You’re so pathetically incompetent that –”

“Now, now, Nem. Let’s not let my guy off the hook here.” The new voice, loud and rich and full of almost-insane laughter, can only belong to another elder demon. Like Nemuri, he’s wearing a vicious smirk. “Remember, my guy’s the one who got rejected by his summoner and packed it in for the evening. At least yours gave it a second shot.”

“That’s my boss,” Tomura mumbles. “Fuck.”

“In fact,” Tomura’s boss continues, “one could argue that your girl’s off the hook. She did her job. It’s not her fault that my guy’s aura of misery was so strong that it made him actually look human. Or that he was so desperate to be wanted by somebody that he forgot to check whether she was actually a demon trying to steal his soul.”

Tomura’s shoulders hunch, and a surge of anger runs through you. “When you put it that way, Hizashi, it does sound like my nymphet is off the hook,” Nemuri says. “But when your pathetic little imp tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let him. It seems they’re terrible at everything demonic, lying included. They’re telling the truth.”

“They really did seduce each other,” Hizashi muses. “That’s cringe.”

“More importantly, it’s against the rules.” Nemuri’s standing over you. Hizashi joins her, and the two of them leer down at you and Tomura, practically licking their lips. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

There aren’t many punishments that can affect demons – you’re basically gluttons for it. Then again, there aren’t many rules for demons to break. “I’m not sure,” Hizashi says. “Offer them up to Heaven for punishment? Banish them to the mortal world until the trumpets sound? Throw them out to wander with the restless dead forevermore?”

You might not love your job, but you have your sisters. If you’re cast out, you’ll never see them again. The only thing worse would be getting thrown to Heaven as an offering, one of Hell’s not-infrequent tithes to keep the peace. Tomura’s tail wraps around your waist, and you cover his left hand with your right as you wait for your fates to be decided. The thought crosses your mind, pointlessly, that you won’t spend an eternity of exile entirely alone. You’ve dragged someone else down with you, which might be the most demonic thing you’ve ever done in your life.

“Now that I think about it,” Nemuri says, her smirk broadening still further, “I don’t think we need to punish them – not when they’ve punished themselves so effectively.”

“What does that mean?” Tomura snaps. Hizashi is guffawing, his voice echoing off the jagged rocks. “Don’t laugh. What does that mean?”

“What does it mean, you gloomy brat?” Hizashi wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Take a look at your hands, both of you.”

You let go of Tomura’s and lift your own. Your right hand is clear, but your left – you remember noticing the shadow around your fourth finger, feeling the faint spark as it darkened a little further. It’s not a shadow anymore. Instead it’s a thin golden shackle, encircling your finger below your knuckle. No, not a shackle. A ring.

It won’t come off. You yank on it, try to dig your nails beneath it, but it won’t come off. Next to you, Tomura’s doing the same, cursing fluently, and Hizashi and Nemuri are laughing at you both, leaning on each other to stay upright. “It’s the first rule we teach you all when you’re spawned. No fucking your own kind, and this is why!” Hizashi is laughing almost too hard to speak, while you try to chew your ring off and Tomura breaks his own finger trying to remove his. “Thanks to your little tryst, the two of you are bound forever in unholy matrimony!”

“My congratulations to the happy couple,” Nemuri says. “The two of you are never going to live this down. You’ll be the laughingstocks of Hell. You’re going to beg us to banish you!”

“And we won’t,” Hizashi says. “I can’t think of a better object lesson than the two of you. We send you to the mortal realm to collect souls, and not only did you end up fucking each other, you didn’t commit a single demonic act!”

“I cursed somebody,” you protest.

“Me too,” Tomura says. “The mortal who –”

You remember what Tomura said about the mortal who rejected you: May his dick shrivel up and fall off. “You cursed the same mortal,” Nemuri says. She pauses a moment. “I will admit, it’s a fairly creative curse. The imp’s little add-on will make a nice insult to the injury.”

You’re better at cursing mortals than you are at seducing them, but you can’t imagine Tomura’s bad at it. Not with the way he worked you over. You duck your head to hide the heat coming up in your face. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your honeymoon,” Hizashi says. He shrugs off the ornate robe he’s wearing and drops it on the ground in front of you, revealing body chains, nipple piercings, and nothing else. “Wear this on your way back into the city. Maintain a little dignity.”

“Here, imp. Just for you.” Nemuri drops her robe over Tomura’s head, and he shoves it off into the dust. “Everyone’s going to know about your little bout of lovemaking, but I imagine you’d prefer if they didn’t know exactly how you’ve been chewing on each other.”

The two of them stroll back towards the city, arm in arm, still laughing. It’s a long time before their laughter fades, and then you and Tomura are alone on the outskirts. The wind, blowing hot a moment before, changes direction, growing cold and carrying sharp shards of ice. You put on Hizashi’s robe, then turn towards Tomura. He’s already shivering, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Nemuri’s robe discarded in front of him. You pick it up and settle it back around his shoulders, shifting his hair aside so it won’t get caught beneath the collar – and then you realize what you’re doing. You freeze. “Sorry.”

Tomura shrugs, but the robe stays on. “You’re better at this than your boss says you are,” he says without looking at you. “I believed you.”

“I’m worse than she says I am,” you say. “I wasn’t lying.”

Tomura looks up at that, and you look away, your eyes stinging in the freezing wind. You never lied to Tomura, not from the moment you approached him. This would be so much less embarrassing if you had. If you’d listened to any of the moments where you sensed that it was going a little too well, that it felt a little too good. If you’d kept your distance instead of falling under his spell as quickly and easily as he fell under yours. “Your boss was talking out of his ass. Your whole thing worked really well on me.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t a thing.” Tomura’s tail wraps loosely around your wrist. “Mutual ruination. You were right.”

He’s got your right wrist. You study your left hand with its ring, and Tomura lifts his alongside yours. His ring looks the same as yours, although he’s dislocated his fourth finger in addition to having broken it. “Want me to fix that?”

“Demon magic doesn’t fix things.”

“It’s not supposed to marry people, either.” You’re not expecting that argument to work, but Tomura lets you capture his hand anyway. You relocate it manually, then try to work some magic over it. All your magic serves to make a seduction easier, so it shouldn’t be hard to twist it into something you can use for the sake of your – “I think it worked. How do you feel?”

“Like I fucked up,” Tomura says. Fair enough. “And I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Tomura’s hands slip inside your stolen robe, settling into the same place he was holding on as you rode him. “This isn’t that weird. Mortals do it all the time.”

“Except mortals who get married in Vegas can get divorced,” you point out. Somebody has to play angel’s advocate here, even if you’re already unfolding yourself from seated so you can get into his lap. “We didn’t even make any vows.”

“You did,” Tomura says. “I heard you say it.”

You’re mine. Is that really all it took? It makes a certain kind of sense, when you force yourself to look at it honestly. Mortals almost never doom themselves consciously. It’s always a moment of weakness, a split-second lapse, an instant where desire rules over reason. “Then you can break us up. Since I’m the only one who vowed anything.”

“No way.” Tomura’s lips brush the side of your neck, making your nerves twinge. “I agreed.”

You set your hands on his shoulders and push him backwards, and he goes willingly. The way he’s looking up at you counts as a sin all on its own – crimson eyes half-lidded, pupils already dilating, his cheekbones already dusted with pink. “Did you figure out what you want yet?”

“I have some ideas,” you say. You collect his hands from your waist and pin them on either side of his head, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. “But I’ll start with you.”

[softtdaisy]

injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count.��2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid. 

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter. 

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly. 

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to. 

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore. 

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation. 

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be. 

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” 

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically. 

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.” 

The world went silent. 

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?” 

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone. 

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind. 

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

[bennysmiller]

I love your writing! Would you consider writing a short fic where you’re one of Santi’s friends and he sets you up on a blind date with Frankie? Bonus points for Frankie being kind of shy and adorable

Blind Date - Frankie Morales x Reader

Thank you so much for your request!! I really hope this is okay 🩷

I have a friend. He’s single. You’re single. You’re both recently out of long-term relationships. You can awkwardly return to the dating scene together. But seriously, I think you’ll like each other. How does that sound?

You laughed when Santi sent you that text. But two weeks later, you were pacing anxiously in your kitchen waiting for your cab to arrive. You’d partly agreed to the date to shut Santi up, because you knew he’d complain about your complaining if he’d offered you a way out of the single life and you’d refused, without even giving him a chance. Finding a good man was difficult, so it was worth trying, right?

The cab ride to the restaurant was painful, to say the least. You couldn’t help but question if you were doing the right thing, but Santi was one of the few people you actually trusted, and he wouldn’t have set the date up if he didn’t think you’d actually get along.

Five minutes. This Frankie guy was five minutes late. You tapped your fingers on the table, trying to distract yourself from the fact that he maybe got cold feet himself. But out of the corner of your eye, you see a little bit of commotion near the entrance of the restaurant.

A man has a bouquet of roses in one hand, and the other was messing with the soft curls on top of his head. He looked as thought he’d ran all the way there. He was frantically looking around and trying to catch his breath, while also explaining to the wait staff who he was there for.

Someone’s in trouble, you think to yourself. And then it hits you. Man who looks like he’s supposed to be on a date, also looks like he has turned up late to said date?

Then you hear your name. And a few curse words that he muttered under his breath in embarrassment. You look up, and it’s him.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get off work. Then I realised I’d forgotten to get you flowers. I hope you like roses.” He said, as you stood up to greet him.

“Frankie? You’re fine. I mean, not fine as in handsome, just fine as in ‘you don’t need to apologise for being late’. Actually, you’re fine as in handsome too, but-“

Disaster. Two seconds in and it was a disaster.

He hands you the flowers and you thank Frankie, before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you.

“Let’s start over, huh Frankie? We both screwed up there.” You say as you settle at the table.

“Sure, I could take a redo at that”, he laughs and he blushes a little when you laugh back.

You just looked so beautiful. Frankie wished Santi had warned him about that.

The rest of the date went better than either of you could have ever imagined. The chemistry was just as Santi had promised in his myriad of texts to you about it. He knew. He always knew. And you needed to thank him for this one.

Frankie was so pleased with himself, he had you laughing all night. Even in his truck, on the way home. The radio was on, the windows were down, and the conversation was flowing so effortlessly. It was a movie scene straight from a movie that the two of you had no idea was only the first part of many.

“I’d love to see you again,” said Frankie, as he admired the way you looked in the glow of your porch light. “If you feel the same, of course”.

“I feel the same, don’t you worry about that.” You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, which took the poor man by surprise. “Goodnight, Frankie”.

The look you gave him over your shoulder as you opened your front door would be thought about until you graced him with your presence a second time.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I See You As You Are - Pt 7

aemond x f!reader 

Series Masterlist

Summary: The first couple of weeks and months following Aelors birth Aemond becomes more protective than you thought possible. You practically have to beg him to sleep. He reluctantly starts to accept the help people are offering the both of you. Life slowly starts to go back to normal as you both fall more in love with Aelor.

Warnings: 18+ soft family moments that made me want to crash out!, aegon appearance again, overprotective aemond, oral(f), fingering, p in v, breeding kink

Authors Note: i will forever spread my sibling agenda sry – idk why this took me so long to write just so many ideas all at once i guess 😵‍💫  but i love this series and im not abandoning her i just get too attached sometimes and don’t want to see it end - also don’t want to rush the writing of this bc i love it too much - me over explaining myself to no one but myself! n e ways enjoy i love u and i love this chap and story

Word Count: 8k 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

It’s been a little over a week since you brought Aelor into this world and Aemond is positive he only sleeps when.. Maybe when he blinks. He needs to be aware of everything that moves inside your shared chambers. If you breathe too heavily he’s next to you. If Aelor coughs he’s hovering over the crib. You look up at his bloodshot eye with pursed lips as he escorts you back to bed. 

“I don’t want you out of bed.” Aemond presses his lips to yours and helps you lay back into your well of pillows. 

“And when pray tell, will me and Aelor be taken off of bed rest, maester Aemond?” he flares his nostrils and pulls your blanket up your body. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever let you two out of these chambers.” his tone is teasing but you both know how truthful his words are. 

“Husband.” you look up at him. 

“Hush.” he shakes his head. “There is nothing you two need outside of these chambers.” you clear your throat. 

“Come lay with me.” you pat his side of the bed. He slowly crawls into the bed and you both turn and look at each other. “Tell me what you’re scared of.” your words soft.

“He’s so little and you’re still so fragile.” you narrow your eyes at him. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want either of you taken from me. Whether it be a misstep on stairs or a sickness. I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll die without you and our son. I will. I can-

“Aemond,” you cup his cheek. “We are right here. Healthy and safe.” you nod your head. “One more week.” you press your lips to his. 

“One more week?” he mumbles against your lips. 

“You have one more week to prepare to take Aelor and me on a walk throughout the gardens.” you pull back. 

“I’m sorry I’m overbearing.” he whispers. 

“There is no reason to apologize.” you brush his hair back. “Could I make one more request?” he nods, starting to get up. “Lay back down.” you chuckle. “Please go to sleep. I know you haven’t been.” you wipe your thumb under his eye. 

“Do you promise that you’ll both still be here when I wake?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him and curling against you. 

“Yes, Aemond. We will both be right here.” you smooth his hair back as he lets his eye close and finally begin to rest. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

You wake up and groan as Aemonds side of the bed is empty. You feel for any warmth but it’s cold and you roll over and look at the ceiling. Pushing the blankets off, you get up and walk over to Aelor’s crib and find him curled up next to the egg with his little fingers reaching out towards it. You brush his wisps of hair back before walking over to the table where you’re sure there’s a letter waiting for you. 

~

Wife and my little son,

Please - for my sanity - do not leave these chambers until I return. I won’t be long, I just went to collect some things. 

I’ve promised you a walk today - which I still plan to deliver. 

I thought we could go to the library and we could read as a family. - Yes, I know you said the gardens.

Tonight is the full moon and I had hoped we might wish upon it as a family. - We’d have to go out a little earlier than normal. 

My wish for the moon: Please don’t let my wife hate me for not letting her and Aelor out of our chambers. 

~

You smile and walk the letter over to the side table and place it with your growing collection. You begin to dress for the day and a warmth settles over you when you hear Aelor start to coo. You quickly finish dressing and go scoop him out of his crib, placing kisses across his face. You carry him over to your chaise and curl up with him watching him smile and grab at your fingers. 

You could stay like this all day, with the exception of having Aemond at your side, curled up with your son enjoying the silence and the song of the breeze through the windows. Though you can’t help but smile at the thought of being able to show your perfect son off. You rise with him and bring him over to the wardrobe to dress him for the day. You hear the door open and close before you hear the familiar steps.

“I half expected you both to be gone.” you can see relief wash through him from that not being the case.

“We would never dream of leaving you.” you walk over to him and he places his lips on your forehead before offering the same to Aelor. “And to address your letter we would never hate you, Aemond. We’re content here, with you.” you nod and he reaches down to press his lips to yours.

“How are you both?” you watch as he scans over the both of you.

“We’re very excited for you to take us to the library.” you smile up at him. “And to see his very first full moon.” you smile as Aemond brushes Aelors hair back. 

“May I?” he holds his arms out and your eyes snap up to him.

“Aemond, of course.” you help place Aelor into his arms. 

“He’s so perfect.” he whispers, looking down at him. 

“Even if he threw up on you this morning?” he smiles and waves you off. 

“Your mother is wrong.” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t even call it a spit up.” he traces his finger along his chin. 

“Mm, is that why you changed your jerkin?” you hum walking back to the wardrobe to pick out clothing for Aelor. 

Your heart swells as you hear Aemond silently coo and talk to Aelor and you push around different fabrics. You were secretly happy Aelor ruined his jerkin because you can finally have them match. You chew your lip pulling out the dark green fabric and basking in its softness. You hold it up and look over it smiling at his little buttons.

“It seems as if your mother is going to have us match today.” Aemond chuckles as he spots the green fabric in your hands. 

“You two will look so handsome.” you coo. 

“I thought we agreed that all three of us have to match?” he raises his brow walking over to you with Aelor. “Something about an early grave?” you purse your lips pretending to be lost in thought. 

“I don’t recall.” you shake your head. You lift off Aelor’s current outfit and begin to pull the green over his head. “Oh my Gods,” you look up at Aemond. “Hold him next to you.” you nod quickly. 

“Like this?” he cradles Aelor in one arm and you bring both of your hands to your cheeks. 

“Aemond.” you softly coo. “You both look so handsome.” you push your bottom lip out. “My distinguished little gentlemen.” you walk over to them. “My sweet boys.” you smooth Aelor’s hair before cupping Aemonds cheek. 

“Are you done?” your eyes snap up to him and you can see a hint of a smile. 

“Nowhere near done.” you shake your head. “Let me just adjust some things.” you smile up at him quickly.

You start to adjust Aemonds hair and straighten out his jerkin. Aelor softly fusses when you smooth out his hair more. You move Aemonds arm to have Aelor more centered and push down his outfit from his neck. Aemond watches you with a small smile as you move them about as you please. You finally stand back and admire them both. 

“May we escort you to the library?” he holds out Aelor’s arm to you and your heart melts. 

“I would love nothing more.” you tickle Aelor’s neck before grabbing onto Aemonds other arm. 

Aemond helps escort you down the stairs of your chambers and the second you step out into the hall you stop and look around to see if anything has changed. You have the same guard and the same tapestries adorn the walls all the way down the hall. There's a small buzz of people in the Keep at this early hour and you smile to finally be a part of it once more. You turn and brush Aelors cheek with your fingers before you take Aemonds arm.

The walk to the library is full of whispers to Aelor of his different surroundings. Aemond has kept a calculating eye on everything going on around the three of you. If someone walks too close he’s silently moving you to the otherside of the hall. You chuckle knowing what he’s doing and you pause and look up at him. 

“Don’t you think people will want to see the new prince?” you raise your brow at him.

“We’re going on a walk to the library not a parade through the city.” he says louder than needed as he looks around at prying eyes. “If we stop for one person we will soon have a line.” you know he's right enough in the matter.

“Then let us go hideaway in the library.” you smile up at him, patting his arm.

He continues to lead you through the halls and when the massive wooden doors come into view a smile spreads across your face. Aemond pulls open the door for you and motions for you to walk towards his section. You watch as servants start to have tea prepared for you and light a couple of candles. You take your normal seat and open your arms for Aemond to place Aelor into.

Aemond pulls your book down from a shelf and takes his seat. When he turns his gaze to the both of you he’s glad he’s sitting because he’s sure his knees would give out. His wife and son, sitting in his chair, in his section. He brings the book to his lap and opens it in search of the last chapter you both left off on. You lean further back in the chair as Aemonds soft voice greets your ears. You begin to rub Aelors back as he starts to curl into your chest with heavy eyes.

“Do you think I’m boring him?” Aemond looks to you with a worried expression.

“No.” you shake your head once. “I think your voice is very soothing. Comforting. He probably feels safe and at ease.” you look down and see Aelor asleep on your chest.

“Should I keep going?” he whispers.

“I would like that and I think Aelor would too.” you nod with a smile.

Aemond continues on with the story in somehow an even softer voice than the one he started with. He pauses after every chapter and asks if you want him to keep going. Aelor eventually wakes and fusses until you place him in Aemonds arms. Aemond brings the book back to his lap and watches as Aelor spreads his hand across the current page. You watch them with a warm expression as Aemond attempts to continue reading. After the next chapter he closes the book and sets it back on the table to give his full attention to Aelor.

“Do you think he’ll enjoy reading as much as we do?” Aemond watches as Aelor grabs at his rings.

“If we keep this up I’m sure he will. Soon he’ll have his own section in the library.” you chuckle. 

“Maybe you’ll take over my section.” Aemond whispers down to your son.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Aemond reading to the two of you in short spurts. It only took three times of asking if he could walk you three around the Keep until he agreed on the condition that he can turn everyone away who asks to speak with the three of you. He holds you closely and once he sees your eyes start to droop he insists that the three of you return to your chambers for a nap and you had no complaints with that idea.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

The sun has barely passed the horizon and Aemond is trying to herd you and Aelor to the door with whispers that it’s almost Aelor’s bedtime and you should be fast asleep too. You bat his hands away which are immediately back on your waist as you start your descent down the stairs. 

“Aemond, I know how to walk.” you sigh. 

“I would prefer to carry you both.” you turn your head and he stops you on the stairs. “If you don’t pay attention I will.” his tone not joking.You turn your head back and start moving once more. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs you stop. “What’s wrong?” he steps in front of you. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want me to touch the door. It might be too strenuous.” you purse your lips. 

“You’re right.” you watch his lips twitch up and you flare your nostrils as he turns to reach for the door handle. 

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hiss and his eye snaps back to yours. 

“Yes?” he wraps his hands around your waist. 

“I’m not going to break.” you huff. 

“I’m aware.” he presses his lips to yours in hopes of removing the soft scowl. “Can I not just dote on you? Is it not my job to do everything for you?” he pulls back. 

“There’s a difference between doting and overbearing.” you hum and step past him to open the door and walk through. 

“I’m sorry.” he makes his way to your side quickly. “Please don’t be mad at me.” he whispers and you stop once more. “Please, I’m sorry.” his heart starts to beat faster at the thought of upsetting you. 

“I’m not mad at you.” you look up at him. “Now give me a kiss, offer me your arm, and take us to the gardens to look upon the moon.” you wait expectantly and you watch as a smile spreads across his face.

He presses his lips to yours before placing them on Aelors forehead and holding out his arm for you. He bites his tongue when you start down the main stairs and takes a step closer to you. You glance at him and he is already staring at you, calculating your every step. 

“How are you feeling?” he whispers once the three of you make it to the main hall. 

“Like I’m going to ask the full moon for you to relax.” you turn to him. 

“Do you still love me?” he searches your eyes. 

“My Gods Aemond of course.” you press your hand to his chest. “I love you more than life itself.” you cup his cheek. “I might love you even more if you take us out to the gardens as promised.” you smile up at him. 

“You’re sure you still love me?” he steps closer to you. 

“I’m sure.” your reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

He starts to escort you once again through the main hall and you sigh in relief at the soft breeze that greets you once the three of you make it outside. You smile as you enter the gardens and adjust Aelor so he can look at all of the life growing around you. Aemond stays glued to your side and an arm hovering around you as you walk Aelor up to different flowers. 

“This was the first place your father took me when we met.” Aemond’s heart skips at your words. “We’ve been coming here ever since.” you whisper carrying him deeper into the gardens. “Tonight is very special.” you turn to Aemond as you enter the small courtyard. 

“It’s the full moon.” Aemond leans down and smooths Aelor’s wayward strands. “If you make a wish upon it when it’s full it’ll come true. I’ll make sure of it.” you smile watching Aemond softly talk to him. 

“What your father didn’t tell you is that he’s actually the moon.” Aemonds eye snaps up to you. “He makes sure we have anything and everything we wish for.” you nod. “We’ll wish for you for the next couple of years but soon you’ll be able to do it on your own with us and you can teach your siblings.” your smile widens. “We can make wishes as a family.” you look up to Aemond and see that his eye is glossy. 

“You want to have more?” he whispers. 

“You didn’t think I’d be content with just one?” you tilt your head. 

“How many do you want?” he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“At least two more.” you nod. 

“And at most?” he tilts his head. 

“Four more?” he nods his head quickly. 

“Yes, I would like that.” he rubs circles into your sides sending warmth throughout your body.. “It’s always up to you. I’ll be content with any number of children.” he lets his mind wander to your chambers filled with children running around and giggling. “A family.” 

“Let’s make our wishes before you start crying.” you cup his face. 

“I’m not crying.” he purses his lips. 

“Mhm.” you nod, wiping your thumb under his eye collecting the tear. “I love you so very much.” you whisper up at him. 

“It sounds as if you might cry now.” he watches your cheeks flush. “And I love you more.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “Look up to the moon so I can get you both back into bed.” he tilts your head up to the sky. 

You let your eyes close and Aemond does the same, never letting his hands leave your sides. He smiles when he feels Aelor grab onto his arm and he cracks his eye open and looks down at him. He watches as his face spreads with a smile and he reaches up to Aemond. You open your eyes when you feel Aemond start to scoop Aelor out of your arms. 

“My wish was to hold him and to offer you a dance.” he holds out his free hand. 

“Let us dance on our balcony while he sleeps.” you offer him a warm smile. 

“I would like that.” he nods. “What did you wish for tonight, my beautiful wife?” he hums, pulling you closer. 

“I had wished for us to dance.” you chew your lip. “And for you to let me kiss you until I fall asleep as I once used to do.” 

“Then let me keep you waiting no longer.” he offers you his arm. 

You curl into his side as he leads you three back to your chambers. Aelor quickly falls asleep in his crib allowing Aemond to whisk you out to the balcony. His hands are on your waist instantly as he begins to sway the both of you across the stone. As the breeze begins to cool you a bit too much and Aemond scoops you up and brings you back inside. 

“This is how I would prefer to take you around the Keep.” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. “Now let me go get your sleep dress so I can give you your kisses.” he sets you on the bed, letting his lips linger on yours longer than necessary.

“Or might you just stay here for a little while?” you mumble against his lips. “Please?” you hold him closer and sigh when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You try to pull him onto the bed with you and he starts to chuckle. 

“This is more than just kisses.” he kisses down to your neck. 

“Please.” you whisper. “Aemond please,” you whine.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” he smiles as you shudder when he licks up your neck. “I can tell you’re going to fall asleep soon.” he lifts up and chuckles as you try to pull him back. 

You watch him with a pout as he walks over to your wardrobe and pulls out a night dress for you. He stops to check on Aelor before walking back over to you on the bed. He bites his lip looking and you lidded eyes as you fight to stay awake. He helps you undress and brings your wandering hands to his mouth to place kisses against each finger. 

“Go to bed and I’ll kiss you as much as you want when you wake up.” he pulls the covers up to your chin. 

“I’ll stay awake.” you whine. 

“Your eyes are shutting before me.” he smiles. 

“No.” you shake your head and curl against him as he gets into bed. 

“One more kiss.” he nods and you reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

“One more.” you mumble against him. 

“Rest.” he hums and kisses your forehead.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Over the past couple of weeks Aemond has slowly relaxed and gone back to a regular sleeping schedule. Aelor is happy and healthy, though this doesn’t stop Aemond from darting to his side when he makes a noise. He’s hesitant to think about the egg, let alone even look at it for too long. He wants it to hatch so badly but maybe that’s why it’s not. 

Maybe since he didn’t have an egg his son's egg will never hatch. It could all be his fault. He could be the reason Aelor grows up like him. Picked on and-

“Aemond.” you grab onto his arm. “Staring at the egg isn’t going to make it hatch.” your words soft. 

“Do you think it’s my fault it hasn’t hatched?” he continues to stare down at the colored egg. 

“Not at all. You’ve been quite the doting mother hen to that egg.” he turns to you with a squinted eye. “I joke.” you cup his cheek. “I believe it’s up to the Gods if his egg will hatch. It will be no one’s ‘fault’ if it does not. You are doing everything right.” you look into his eye and nod. 

“So I should keep doting upon the egg?” the corners of his mouth shift up. 

“I had hoped you might dote upon me?” you tilt your head. “I would just like some kisses.” you nibble on your lip. “For now.” he chuckles. 

“I could indulge you in a kiss or two.” he hums, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. 

The moment his lips touch yours it’s as if all of his worry and doubt drift away. He’s never felt more wanted than when you cling against him trying to be as close as possible. How quickly you open your mouth and invite him in eagerly. The small noises you make when he squeezes into your sides and- He’s pulling off of you and turning back to the crib. 

“He probably just moved.” you whine trying to tug him back. 

“It’s happening.” he shakes his head. “There’s a crack. It’s moving. What do we do? Do we take Aelor out? I need-“ he cuts himself off, not ready to say that name after the words ‘I need,’ and looks between you and Aelor. “I’ll be right back.” he’s thudding down the stairs, leaving you to look after him with wide eyes. 

Aemond doesn’t care about the early hour. He just prays he’s sober enough to help. He doesn’t hesitate at the guard as he pushes himself into his brother's chambers. He walks over to his bed and shakes his shoulder. Aegon pushes his hand away and Aemond yanks him harder. 

“Get up.” Aemond hisses. “If you want to be a family, get up. The egg is hatching and I don’t know what to do.” the words taste foreign on his tongue and he watches Aegon's eyes snap open. 

“Alright.” Aegon nods. “Let’s go.” he rises from the bed and so do Aemonds eyebrows. 

“Put something on. My wife and child are there.” he strides over to Aegon's wardrobe. “Quickly.” he snaps, tossing trousers and a tunic. He pulls Aegon out of his chambers and down the hall once he’s clothed. 

“My Gods, slow down.” Aegon groans. “And get me some water.” he looks up at the stairs to your chambers with tired eyes before he starts his climb. 

“You will have nothing if you don’t help.” you hear Aemonds curt tone as he and Aegon make it to the landing. “Did anything happen?” Aemond is back at your side. “Do we take him out of the crib?” he turns back to Aegon. 

“First we relax and tell me where the water is.” Aegon looks around. 

“No.” Aemond shakes his head. “Come check on the egg and my son first.” he glares at Aegon. 

“Aemond, it's just water.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Aelor is fine.” you nod up at him. 

“Alright.” Aegon groans and walks over to the crib. “What a handsome boy. You did well, brother.” he grins across the crib at Aemond.

“What of the egg?” Aemond presses looking down at Aelor and the egg.

“It’s hatching.” Aegon nods. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Should we leave him with the egg?” Aemond looks over to him.

“Yes.” he nods. “Was that enough to merit me a cup of water?” Aegon blinks at Aemond expectantly.

“I suppose.” Aemond nods his head to the table holding the water pitcher and Aegon is next to it shortly after. “So what happens now?” he brings his attention back to Aelor and the cracking egg. 

“You see when an egg cracks, brother,” Aegon walks over to him. “Something usually comes out.” Aemond flares his nostrils at Aegon's tone. 

“I’m aware.” he says through his teeth. You hold on to his arm tighter hoping it’ll offer him some comfort. “Should we call for the keepers?” his tone a fraction smoother. 

“I figured you already called for them.” Aegon raises his brow, sipping on the water. “So you came to me first?” he smiles. “Do not look at me like that. I’ll go call for them.” he waves Aemond off and walks back down the stairs. 

Aemond’s mind is racing as he keeps his eye on the crib. He refuses to believe an actual dragon is hatching mere feet from him. His little son's very own dragon. You look up at Aemond and see his slightly flushed cheeks and reach up to cup his face and slowly turn him towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” you take in his glossy eye. 

“I’m just so happy for our son. For Aelor. He gets his own dragon. His very own.” his voice barely audible. “There’s soon to be too many people here for me to be this emotional.” he shakes his head and you wipe under his eye. 

“Might I have a hug?” you whisper and Aemond grabs your hand from his face and pulls you against him. “I would still like to have my other kisses later.” you whisper and you feel his small chuckle in his chest, thankful for your distracting words.

“I could provide those for you.” he whispers and starts to pull back. 

“The keepers will be here shortly.” Aegon announces as he makes it to the stop of the stairs once more. “Might you both pick different chambers? I already tire of these stairs.” Aegon groans, going to refill his cup of water once more.

“All the more to keep them. If they’ll deter you from barging in then I think they’re perfect.” you look up at Aemond as if you’re telling him to be nice. 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you have more children.” Aegon waves him off. “The offer is always there.” his words are followed by a quick knock and the voice of the keepers coming up the stairs.

“Congratulations, my Prince.” the keeper looks to Aemond before walking over to the crib. “A healthy boy. No wonder his egg is hatching already.” the man muses. 

“Should we have taken him out of the crib? Is there something more I should be doing? Would you like some water?” Aemond rapid fires questions at the keeper.

“He is perfectly fine in the crib. There is nothing for us to do besides wait. Though looking at the egg.. Ten minutes maybe.. Maybe more..” the man shrugs and Aemond nods before turning back to you.

“What did he say?” you look up at him. “I also think you sound so very elegant when you speak in that tongue.” you whisper and watch a small flush spread across his cheeks.

“The egg will hatch soon. We just have to wait now.” he turns his attention back down to Aelor and watches as you reach in and smooth his hair.

“Does the dragon stay here with us?” you look up at him. “Am I now raising our boy and his dragon?” your mind races on how you would even go about doing that. 

“Not necessarily.” Aegon comes to Aemonds side. “Of course it’s so tiny now so it’ll spend more time with Aelor here to help strengthen their bond. When it grows and my Gods do they grow fast, it’ll be housed in the pits that you can visit.. If Aemond releases you from these chambers.” he lets out a small giggle. 

“Aegon.” Aemond warns.

“Relax brother,.” Aegon sighs. “The keepers will tell you everything.” he looks up at him.

The three of you watch the egg slowly crack more and you hear Aemond’s inhale as Aelor slowly wakes. His eye widens when Aegon's hand enters the crib and pinches his little cheeks. Aelor lets out a small coo and turns his head towards the egg. You watch with wide eyes as he grabs onto the crack and you feel Aemond stiffen. Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and whispers lowly.

“Let him. He’s safe. There are plenty of people here who know what they’re doing.” Aemond looks down at Aegon and where his hand is placed on his arm.

“And you’re one of the people who know what you’re doing?” Aemond scoffs.

“You did come get me first.” he chuckles. 

As Aemond goes to retort there's a more prominent cracking sound. The keepers slowly walk over and soon the crib is surrounded by watching eyes. You grab onto Aemonds arm and lean closer into his side. A short shriek is heard followed by another crack. You watch as Aelor grabs at the egg and pulls a piece of its shell off. You gasp when you see an eye before it disappears once more. 

“Are you nervous?” Aegon whispers.

“Be quiet.” Aemond hisses.

“So you are.” Aemond turns his head and Aegon bites his lips to stifle his laughter. “I’ll be quiet. Don’t kick me out.” he nods back to the egg. 

You and Aemond inhale at the same time when Aelor pushes his little hand into the growing hole. When he pulls it out you see a small tail wrapped around his wrist before it slips back into the egg. You watch as Aelor pushes his hand into the egg once more, slowly scooting towards it. He pulls another piece of the egg off and your eyes widen as the dragon is now blinking up at everyone. Aelor grabs the dragon and brings it to his side. 

“He has a dragon.” Aemond whispers. 

“He does.” Aegon grins. 

“His very own.” you look up at Aemond and squeeze his arm, knowing how emotional this is for him. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond is stepping forward when the keeper grabs for the dragon.

“We must examine him.” the man nods and scoops the dragon out of the crib.

“Will you bathe him as well?” Aemond looks at the mess starting to spread across Aelor’s linens. 

“Of course.” the man nods and turns to the other keepers before walking to the bathing chambers. 

“They’re cleaning the dragon so we can change Aelor’s sheets.” he turns to you. “Let’s go find him a fresh set.” he holds onto your arm as if it’s his lifeline. 

“Then I suppose it’s just me and you left.” Aegon chuckles and scoops Aelor out of the crib. 

Aemond glances at Aegon and Aelor before deciding Aegon probably knows what he’s doing in that sense too. He shakes his head, not quite ready to accept all of Aegon’s help. Aemond helps you pick out a clean pair of sheets and walks back over to the crib to strip it. You grab a change of clothing for Aelor and hand it to Aegon who smiles up at you from the chaise. 

The next couple minutes in your chambers consists of everyone cleaning and preparing to bring Aelor and his dragon back together. Aegon stands once he has Aelor changed and brings him over to the crib. Aemond takes Aelor from his hands and nods once at Aegon who is well aware that is the only thanks he’ll receive. The keepers come back over and place the small dragon in the crib and nod at Aemond to do the same with Aelor. 

“How is the dragon?” Aemond looks across to the keeper.

“He is well.” Aemond smiles. “We will leave you. Someone will return to care for the dragon and remain down the hall to offer the three of you reprieve until he is no longer fit for the Keep. They will help feed him and help instruct you on anything you should need. Your brother also knows a great deal and could offer you his wisdom.” Aemond chokes back a laugh at Aegons ‘wisdom’ and wonders if he’s ever seen it. 

“Thank you.” Aemond nods at the man.

The keeper nods at you and Aegon as well before taking one last look in the crib with a smile spread across his face. The keepers wave before they leave the three of you to look down at the crib. Aegon looks between Aemond and you and smiles before walking over to the table holding the water once more. 

“I will leave you three. I’ll have them house the keeper close by and I’ll have your guard tell you where. Should you both need anything else don’t hesitate to ask. All I ask is a nicer wake up and maybe some water before I’m dragged out of my chambers.” he raises his cup of water before starting towards the stairs. 

“Wait,” Aemond calls out. “Thank you,” he nods when Aegon turns. “Brother.” Aemond groans at the smile that spreads across Aegon's face. 

“Would you like a hug baby brother?” Aemond scoffs. 

“No. Leave us.” Aemond waves him off.

“One day.” Aegon calls over his shoulder as he starts down the stairs. 

You watch as Aemond stares down into Aelors crib with a furrowed brow. He inhales when your hand enters the crib to brush back Aelors hair. You then bring your delicate touch to the dragon's head and he slowly blinks his eyes open. He lets out a small purr before curling back up with your son. 

“I know nothing of raising a dragon.” you turn and whisper up at Aemond.

“You know some from our readings.” he hums. 

“Mm, shall I start to work towards becoming a dragon keeper?” you purse your lips. 

“My wife, you’re perfect at everything so if that is what your heart desires then I have the utmost faith in you.” he pulls you against him. “But the keeper will remain down the hall and if it’s too much we can always just bring the dragon to Aegon and he’ll deal with it.” he brushes your hair back. 

“Speaking of Aegon..” you look up at him with a raised brow. “I see that your relationship with him is improving.” you don’t want to pry but it warms your heart seeing them hopefully start to mend bridges.

“We’ll see.” Aemond starts to lead you back to the bed. “For now I would like to finish offering you the kisses you asked for while our son sleeps with his dragon.” he can’t help the grin on his face at that statement.

“Maybe soon we can have my handmaidens keep Aelor overnight.” he steps back and looks at you with a raised brow.

“Why?” he presses his lips to yours once.

“So I might enjoy my husband for the night.” you pull his lips back down to yours. “I miss you.” you whine against his lips. 

“I rarely leave your side.” he chuckles, helping you lay back on the bed. “And when I do it’s under an hour.” he starts to crawl over you.

“Must I tell you what I miss?” you pout, pulling him down to you.

“Yes.” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me.” he kisses down to your neck enjoying your small breaths. 

“You haven’t filled me in almost two months now.” you whine softly as he starts to suck on your neck. 

“You’re still fragile.” he lets his teeth graze against your skin.

“I’m not.” you grab onto the back of his jerkin. “Please.” you whisper.

“Ask me again in a couple of weeks.” he kisses back up to your pursed lips.

“I won’t break.” you furrow your brows.

“No, but you deserve one. You just brought our child into this world.” he presses his lips to yours.

“Let me bring us another.” it’s taking all of his restraint not to take you at your breathy words.

“Two weeks.” he grabs your wandering hands and places them at your side. “It’ll just be like the lead up to our wedding.” he presses his lips all over your face. “Now let me go check on our son and his dragon before you take advantage of me in my emotional state.” he starts to detach from you.

He chuckles at your soft string of curses as you try to pull him back to you. You rise from the bed and smooth your skirts before returning to his side once more. Your son is curled up with his dragon and looks like a perfect little prince. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

You’ve been trying to get Aemonds attention for the past two weeks now but he has resisted all of your advances. The amount of sheer slips you’ve had your handmaidens bring in makes it seem like you’re running a pleasure house. You’ve even gone so far as to sleep naked and he simply covers you with the covers and curls into your side. 

Tonight officially marks the two week mark he set. Gods know why he’s making you wait, you’re ready to combust at the thought of him. Aelor is with your handmaidens for the night and his dragon is with the keepers. Your chambers are clean and there are candles spread throughout offering a warm light. You pace around looking for something to do until you hear the door open. You sprint over to your chaise and spread the sheer silk around your body. 

“Mm, what is the occasion?” Aemond is fully aware that it is exactly two weeks since he told you to wait. 

“Aemond,” you whine. “I’m begging at this point.” you go to get on your knees. 

“No, no.” he shakes his head with a smile. “That’s my spot.” he sinks to his knees before you. “I have also been counting down the days, my insatiable wife.” he presses his lips up one of your calves. “Aelor is with your handmaidens for the entire night?” he looks up at you with a dark eye.

“Yes.” you nod quickly.

“Mm,” he continues to kiss up to your thigh, smiling at how you tremble. “And what is it that you want to do tonight?” he looks up at your already heaving chest. 

“Aemond please,” you spread your legs before him, not caring anymore. “Please,” you groan as he starts to kiss your other calf, enjoying your breathy begging. 

He kisses up to your thigh once more and pulls back softly chuckling at your whine. You look down at him with a soft pout until you feel him starting to push your slip up further. He can see you center glistening in the candle light and looks back up to your pleading eyes. He looks across your body and nods knowing you won’t be getting any type of sleep tonight. 

“You are so very beautiful.” you let out a small whimper at his words. Your nails dig into the plush chaise as he licks up your center. He groans at your sweetness and grabs onto your hips to pull you closer. “Please let me know if it’s too much or if it doesn’t feel right.” he looks up at you. 

“Please just-“ you let out a soft cry as he buries his head between your thighs once more. “Yes,” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your bud. 

He rubs circles into your hips as he continues to lap at you listening to your sounds. You slowly roll your hips against his face and he quickens his movements pulling a gasp from you. He groans as he moves his tongue down to your core and finds your pooling wetness. He moves back up to your bud and encases it and sees your stomach flex. 

“Aemond.” you whine, grabbing onto one of his arms. “I’m- I, please,” soft pleas continue to fall from your mouth as he moves his tongue faster. With another cry of his name you fall apart on his face. “Oh,” you jolt as he starts to move his tongue even faster. 

Aemond can’t get enough of your sounds, it’s been far too long. Gods and your taste and the way you’re gripping onto his arm is spurring him on even more. He moves his other arm and circles one of his fingers around your entrance before slowly dipping it inside. Your broken whimpers are all he needs to hear before he starts pumping into you. 

He looks up at you and sees that your slip has shifted and he groans looking at your breasts. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on the pleasure he’s offering you. When he pushes another finger into you, your pleasure begins to build rapidly. You start arching off the chaise when he pushes his fingers into you faster. He smiles as he laps at you and he hears your wetness coating his fingers. 

“Aem, I’m, please yes.” you squeak and pulse around his fingers. 

“Was that good?” he slowly slips his fingers out and sits back, slipping them into his mouth. “You taste very good.” you whimper at his words.

“Take off your clothes. I need you.” you reach for him but he’s already grabbed onto the hem of your slip and is pulling it over your head. 

“Are these still sensitive?” he whispers as he brushes his fingers against your nipples. Your small whimpers tell him everything he needs to know. He rolls the peaks between his fingers and watches you squeeze your legs shut. 

“Aemond please,” you grip his wrists. 

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you and lifts you to carry you to the bed. You pull at his clothes desperately and whine when he lays you back on the bed. You go to stand but stop when you find him removing his layers. At each reveal of his skin you spread your legs wider. Once he’s bare he crawls into bed with you and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as you can. 

“Fill me.” you plead into his mouth. “Please,” you wrap your legs around his waist. “Fill me, I need it.” Aemond chuckles but lines up at your entrance nonetheless. 

He slowly pushes in and watches your face relax as small moans pour from your mouth. He presses his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth and feel. When he settles within you he brings his lips to yours and slowly starts to rock his hips. You’re squeezing around him tightly and he’s trying to focus on kissing you to truly enjoy the feeling. 

“Move.” you jerk your hips. “Please.” your breath catches as he snaps his hips. 

“Hush.” he presses his lips to yours once more. “Let me just relish in the feel of you, my perfect wife.” he murmurs and kisses down to your neck. “I probably don’t even have to move to make you come undone.” he smirks against your skin as he brings his thumb down to your bud. 

“Yes,” you dig your nails into his back. He nibbles at your neck as he continues to swirl his thumb around your aching bud. “Please,” you hold him tighter. 

“I can feel how close you are.” he whispers into your neck, starting to roll his hips into yours. “Come for me and I’ll start moving.” he stills his hips once more and you let out a strained whimper. Your body is humming with pleasure as you moan out his name repeatedly. 

“Aemond I’m-“ you gasp as your pleasure slams through you. 

“Just like that.” Aemond lifts his head up and starts to pump into you. “You’re so perfect.” he presses his lips to yours. “Already wanting to be swollen with our child again.” his pace quickens at his words. 

“Yes.” you pant trying to nod your head. “Please let me.” you whine feeling your legs start to tremble from pleasure. 

“I’ll keep you filled with children as long as you please.” after every snap of his hips he rolls them into you after. 

“Thank you.” the two words slightly pleasure slurred as he continues with his pace. “Tha- mm-

“Fuck,” he groans as you pulse around him causing his pleasure to slam through him. 

You sigh with a smile as you feel his warmth spread throughout you. He presses his lips to yours as you both slowly rock against each other not quite ready to separate. You both stay sealed together until you both pull back with swollen lips, softly panting. He pulls out of you and watches a small frown form on your face. 

“We’re not done.” he kisses your lips. “I just need some water.” he chuckles before getting out of bed. “Would you like anything?” he glances over his shoulder watching you still spread out in the bed. 

“To be filled again.” he tilts his head back and laughs at your words. 

“In a moment.” he hums and slows his stride enjoying your whining filling your chambers. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist  ⏾ wips  ⏾  taglist

sorry this took me so long sometimes i get stuck on scenes and forget i can skip around the chapter and finish other scenes 🫠 

im prob going to continue my sibling agenda and next chap is going to be a time skip of prob like 3yrs UGH i just want these babies up and talking !!! dad aemond is going to send me to my grave so be patient w me plss

also feeling emo so i love u all who love this story with me and if you have any cute little family and/or dad scenes you want me to try and bring to light lmk and ill sneak it in 👉🏻👈🏻  ok ily bye 

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine

[mochroialainn]

Besties, Im gonna be so for real right now, this turned out to be a little more intense and freaky than I intended. Im currently playing the campaign for Modern Warfare II (reboot) and could not get this scenario out of my brain since I first saw Graves. So uh... warnings for power play, mentions of safe words, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, creepy graves. Minors Do Not Interact this is an 18+ Post. This was also written on mobile and formatted on desktop so please ignore any spelling/grammar errors, I'm too tired to proof read it and fix it

Thinking about cybersecurity CIA!Operative reader whos married to Price and is brought onto the task force by the Secretary of Defense (so above Shepherds head) to try and find the traitor, the SoD has an inkling that its Shepherd and Graves and its readers job to prove it. One of the ways she does it, because shes young and pretty and knows how to get what she wants from a man, is by flirting with Graves and gradually getting closer and closer to him until she can hack his phone and gain access to his emails. She hates it. Hates him and his arrogance, his cocky smile and the way his eyes always trace over her body and stay too long leering at her tits when they talk. He genuinely makes her feel sick and queasy, and she shivers everytime shes out of his sight after flirting with him.

Price hates it. Hates the way Graves looks at her, eyes always on her tits or ass as if she was nothing more than something to fuck and leave disgarded. He has to clench his jaw and bite his tongue anytime he sees them together, he wants to punch Graves and break his fucking jaw. Wants to take a knife and carve his heart out of his fucking chest. But he doesn’t, because he can't. It would jeporadise everything you had worked for, would jeporadise his team if Shepherd knew his little lapdog had been found out he would have all of them killed in seconds.

But when you come to him after flirting with Graves all day, locking his office door behind you and already stripping yourself from your clothes beginning him to make you forget about every look and leer and touch from Graves, hes all but happy to oblige. He kisses you something fierce, all passion with a hint of danger mixed in, all lips and teeth and desperate panting into your mouth as he sigs your bare ass on his desk one hand already toying with your nipple while the other travels further down and starts to rub hard, rough circles your clit. You were already wet thinking about him, and now it starts to pull, slicking up your tighs and his desk but John doesnt care. It wouldnt be the first time he fucked you over his desk and it wouldnt be the last either. John makes you cum from just touching your clit before he removes his finger and rakes it through your hair, grabbing at the roots and pulling so your neck was barred to him.

He so desperately wanted to mark you, leaving bitea and hickeys over your skin to claim you as his but he couldnt, do he was gentle. Trailing kisses down your pulse point and across your collarbone, down your sternum going lower and lower until his face was in front of your pussy and he dove in like a man starved. Lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshley, a satisfying pop echoing in the room as he let go. His eyes stared up at you as you threaded your fingers through his hair, "you remember your safe word?" A nod from you is all he needs to keep going, teeth digging into the supple flesh of your tigh as he slowly slid teo fingers into your weeping hole. He made sure to push you to the edge and withdraw, over and over again until you were a crying mess and he had mercy on you, edging you again until again until he finally let you cum. He made sure you came for him 2 more times before he even entartained the thought of fucking you and when he finally pulled his cock out of his trousers (not having undressed yet, wanting your wetness to soak into his clothes) you nearly weeped from the pleasure and overstimulation when he entered you, all the way to the hilt in one go. And there was no way he was stopping until he pumped at least 2 loads into your gorgeous pussy.

He'll make you forget all about Graves, hell when hes done with you, you'll be lucky if you can even remember your own name and don't walk away pregnant.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hii do u have any headcannons for reader being Baji's little sister and Mikey having a huge crush on her, but Baji is like suuuper protective of her and refuses anyone from the gang to date her because him being her brother is already dangerous as is, I hope this ask isn't too complicated 😅

Ok I set this in the good timeline and there's also two endings. We have the sfw ending which is with all the other hc's and we have the nsfw ending which is clearly labelled at the end. You guys can choose which ending you want to read (the bullet point with the star is where you should switch if you only want the nsfw ending).

Baji is very very vocal about the rules around his little sister, makes it very clear to all the guys that you're off limits and "too good for all of them anyway".

Unfortunately for Baji though, he's keeping an eye on the wrong ex gang members. He eyes the way Hakkai blushes to you, chases Kazutora and Hanma for saying they plan on dating you (they're actually just teasing Baji), raises his eyebrow at how friendly Chifuyu is with you and yells at the Haitani's for trying their pick up lines on you. The point is Baji is so distracted by the others that he never sees Mikey coming until it's too late. 

Mikey starts off simple, just getting you alone one day and asking you what you really thought about your brother's "rules". And as he watches you giggle and call Baji caring but too overprotective, he thinks he falls even more in love. 

And so operation "make y/n fall in love with Mikey" begins. Of course Mikey assembles a mini team for this. Including Draken (he think this is an awful idea and Baji will kill them all), Emma (she thinks the two of you will be cute together), Takemichi (he is very scared of the consequences of doing this), Sanzu (anything for Mikey) and Kisaki (has no idea why he's here and thinks this is a waste of time). Of course these meetings don't do much but Mikey does get some advice.

You start getting mini anonymous presents daily, always pretty or thoughtful things, the card is always just signed with a heart. (Baji is very concerned when he finds out).

Mikey also comes up with elaborate plans to get you alone so the two of you can hang out and get to know each other more. These mostly involve distracting Baji in some way, either by telling someone to hang out with him or by telling him a cat needs his help a few miles away. Baji falls for it everytime, rushing off and leaving you alone. 

He's very touchy with you whenever the two of you are together. He'll happily hold your hand, hug you and lean his head on your shoulder if he gets tired.

Also loves to take you for rides on his bike, Baji barely ever let's you ride with him because of the risk so Mikey figures it's up to him to show you how much fun it is (the feeling of you clinging to him is great too). 

Mikey really likes hanging out with you and get's a little sad whenever it ends but he can't risk Baji seeing this, not yet.

He takes you to the sea often too, sharing a taiyaki with you and talking about anything that comes to mind. It's here that he finally confesses to you and here where the two of you share your first kiss after you confess back to him too. 

You two become experts at secret dates and secret looks at each other. 

Even in front of Baji the two of you find ways to flirt and be affectionate with each other. Mikey whispering you a compliment as he walks past you. You telling Mikey he dropped something but when he picks up the paper it's just a note from you telling him how much you miss him during these big gatherings. Baji never even suspects anything at all.

It is a little difficult hiding your relationship at times but the two of you feel like you could do this forever but of course nothing can last forever.

☆It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

The two of you had just settled down to watch a movie, happily sharing a blanket and cuddling when Baji walked in. Turns out the trip had been cancelled but that's nothing compared to the chaos that was about to go down.

Baji stands there for a moment, staring in disbelief at his oldest friend and his baby sister together. You and Mikey stare back in shock, no one daring to move until Baji opens his mouth to start yelling or talking. You're not sure what he was about to say because before he could get even a word out Mikey launched a pillow at his face, giving himself a head start to start running.

Baji very quickly shot out of the apartment after Mikey all while yelling "MY SISTER!!!!" You watch them for a moment before sighing and calling Draken. Before then calling Ryoko, if anyone could talk sense into your brother it was definitely your mother. 

After Draken (and Mitsuya, who he brought along as backup) separated them and Baji got yelled at down the phone by Ryoko a truce was made. You and Mikey could date and Baji wouldn't kill him if you kept all of that relationship stuff away from him and out of sight. It was a lot better then either you or Mikey had expected (largely thanks to Ryoko) so you both happily agreed. Holding hands and walking off together to Mikey's apartment this time (all while Baji yelled about how holding hands counts as "relationship stuff"). 

Nsfw ending

It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

Eager to see and feel each other, things got steamy very quickly. Mikey was just in the middle of thrusting into you, in and out, getting lost in the warm, velvety feeling of your walls. While you were letting small moans and whimpers slip as Mikey went deeper, hitting your spot and making you see stars everytime. Both of you were so close and lost in each other that neither of you heard the key in the door or the door swing open. You moaned as it finally became all too much and you came, the feeling pushing Mikey over the edge with a groan as he releases his thick load into you. Neither you get to enjoy it for long though as Baji announces his presence with a dangerous growl.

Mikey frantically tries to cover you before putting his clothes on in record time and racing out of the door with Baji quickly pursuing him. All while he yells "MY SISTER!???? AND ON MY SOFA!?????" 

Putting some clothes on and cleaning up the mess as quick as you can, you frantically run after them. Who knows what Baji will do to Mikey after seeing that, whatever it is you need to stop it.

You think you're getting close as you hear raised voices but suddenly your wrist is being grabbed and some strang man is holding you still.

"Hey I recognise you! You're Baji Keisuke's sister, yeah. That fucker beat me up years ago, made me lose my gang and my reputation, I've always wanted to make him pay..."

You only see the knife for a second before it's being kicked out of the guys hands and you're being pulled away. Baji holds you in his arms, both of you needing that comfort while Mikey knocks the guy out. They worked together to save you and without knowing it, Mikey proved he's more then capable of keeping you safe. 

He's still a little reluctant but Baji gives you his blessing, after muttering about needing to bleach his eyes out. 

[s0urw00lf]

When the bow breaks

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader / Sam Winchester x reader / Bobby singer x reader

Summary: Sam Dean and Bobby find out that you made a deal and they’re not happy about it

An: this can be read as either a Sam x reader or a Dean x reader or both just platonically also might be a part two I wrote this in a way that it doesn’t need a part two but one could be added

Supernatural masterlist

“Damn it y/n!” Dean shouted at you throwing down his beer, shattering it to pieces. You felt the shards fall against your boots but you didn’t flinch.

Bobby looked at you in disbelief, he marched toward you grabbing your shoulders firmly, almost knocking you off balance “how could you be so damn stupid!? All this time, all we’ve been through together and this is how you decide to go?!” There was fire in his eyes and his facial expression matched.

You knew they’d be angry, but that’s the way it has to be. You just got back from making a deal to bring back Sammy. You put your head down holding back the tears in your eyes “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let it be one of you” you said.

Dean scoffed, making you lift your head to him. You pulled out of Bobby’s grip rushing towards Dean pushing him, making him go back a few steps. You laughed bitterly “you don’t get to scoff at me like you’re all high and mighty. You know you would’ve done it if I hadn’t”

His gaze hardened “yeah? what makes it okay for you to do it then huh?!” He challenged. “Because I don’t have anything left! All of my family is gone Dean! Sam needs you, you need him and you both need Bobby. It was only fair”

“What do you think we don’t need you too? We’ve known each other since we were teenagers! And been together damn near ever since” deans anger was more scary than Bobby’s. He resembled John a lot when he was angry abt thy was something that still scared your inner teenage self.

You stepped back “I’m sorry Dean, but I can’t see you like that. I won’t.” You shook your head letting the tears fall finally. “And you don’t have to see me like that. I’ll go home. Spend my last moments there like the rest of my family.” Your voice was quiet and broken, not having the ability to keep up the strong voice.

There was a long silence following what you said, nobody dared to speak, or even wanted to but that question loomed over everyone’s head and no one was brave enough to ask it but they had to.

“How long they give you?” Bobby questioned quietly. His gaze wasn’t even on you, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of you and that broke your heart just a little bit.

You looked to Dean contemplation written all over your features. “How long y/n” Dean pressed. You licked your lips “six months”

It was as if all the sound and air had been sucked from the room at your confession. You awaited an outburst from either of the two men but none came. At least not from them.

“You made a deal!” You heard from behind you. Your heart sank at the sound of his voice, you sis t want him to know, or to find out like this but it was too late and you were at the part of no return.

You turned to face the tall man who looked like you just crushed his soul. “Sam I had to” you said in a pleading tone. “Why would you do that- I mean I don’t understand!” He all but shouted.

“Because it was either me or Dean, Sam. With him gone you’d be all broken up! No matter what you say you need each other more than you need me! And maybe it’ll hurt but you’ll still have each other!” You yelled back.

Sam shook his head “that’s not your damn choice to make!”

You scoffed a laugh, “it’s all my choice Sam. Look I don’t know when it’s gonna occur to you guys but I’m a grown woman! I can make my own decisions without you breathing down my neck. And I did I made my chose, live with it damn it!” You shouted at all three men before rushing out of the house.

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

So I'm a gay man from a completely different part of the world from any of you, and so I don't have much insight into the dating culture of the US because I've never participated in it - or dating culture at all, really. Nonetheless, I'm gonna leave my two cents on this under the cut. Feel free to ignore them if you'd prefer to.

what's essential is understanding that other people including women are full humans just like you, who matter just as much as you.

I'm mostly sure OP already understands that. There's no indication that he doesn't, at least. In either case, this is by your own admission the bare minimum. We both know that the bare minimum isn't gonna cut it here.

there are so many women who are out there who want a guy who is caring and on top of his shit. like the bar is so low for some women, it's not hard to clear it.

See, showing other people that you're caring is hard, especially when you're showing it with the intention of pursuing them romantically - which, let's not kid ourselves, is the intention here. Even if you do mange to convey that - again, it's still only the bare minimum. It's good, sure, but not enough.

less dating apps, more befriending all sorts of people through hobbies and volunteer work.

"Befriend" is the key word here. Dating people you were friends with befrehand is complicated to say the least, we could have an entire separate thread about it, but to summarize my outlook I think it's half a matter of luck and half one of finesse. If you don't do everything exactly, perfectly right, it can easily end with both of you sad, angry and potentially traumatized - and it will be your fault, not in the sense you'll be blamed for it, but in that it'll be objectiely your fault.

figure out what you have to offer to the world, offer it, people will take notice.

Sure, they might. If they do though, will anyone want it? If they want it, why would they not seek it from someone else? Someone who's been doing it for longer, who's more skilled at it, or who's just got more to offer besides it? Just "having something to offer" isn't good enough, it's the bare minimum.

There's nothing you can offer that can't be easily found somewhere else. It doesn't matter who you are, there's always gonna be a billion other people exactly like you except better. And what, you want somebody else to settle for you when it'd be easier, less risky and more gratifying to just look for somoene better instead? That's selfish. I'm not being coy here, it is objectively, undeniably selfish to want that. I do need this to be clear: I'm not blaming anyone other than OP/the hypothetical man this advice is aimed at in this scenario.

it also really really sucks for straight women, my god does it suck ass. you need to understand the ways it sucks for women before you can improve your game, btw.

I mean, I think the ways it sucks are fairly obvious. A lot of people do it but at least for me it's kind of hard to ignore the murders, rapes and domestic abuse. By all means seek to understand them and work to not perpetrate them, but "Don't be a piece of shit" really doesn't paint a very clear picture of what, specifically, you're supposed to do beyond that point.

so many people want out of the box and are out of the box. go befriend and dare them.

If you pardon me being cynical (it's sort of my gimmick, if you couldn't tell), what reason do the people out of the box have to give some dumbass newcomer who just crawled out of the box the time of day? Just thinking "out of the box" isn't enough. It's the bare minimum. It's still just objectively not good enough.

you've set up an equation that means that you must always lose, and it's the type of equation that is primed to make you hate women.

I mean yes and no? From what I understood, one of the equation's components is "if a man fails to find a relationship, the failure is all his". If you interpret this as a false preconception that the world around you holds then yeah I can see how it'll lead down that path, but if you interpret it as true then at worse it'll just lead to hating oneself. Not ideal no, but at least no women are impacted as a result.

this equation is false, and based on false premises, that you and a ton of men and women think is gospel.

It depends on how you define false, really. If we go by objective, observable reality then actually both the presented equations are false and all human interaction is nothing but the absurd acts of chemicals (this is what I believe, to put all my cards on the table).

If you wanna be less Reddit-ey about it though, one could easily argue that - because "the equation" is, consciously or otherwise, upheld by the majority of the population (at least the ones involved in the straight dating scene anyway), then it's true in the sense that it is the social norm that you're expected to abide by. You can say it's morally wrong, sure, but it's still just as "true" as things like dining etiquette and formal grammar.

Feel free to ignore dining etiquette all you like, but you're gonna get a lot of mean looks from relatives and restaurant staff.

one of your falsities is that straight and bi women don't like feminine men. this is patently false. have you met a goth woman? have you met a woman who is in fandom? they are jerking it to the most pathetic and wet sissy rat men.

Fictional men and real men are radically different. For starters, fictional men are just plainly easier to grow emotionally attached to because they come with none of the... "Baggage", for the lack of a better word, and just because someone thinks baby-faced white twinks (because make no mistake, that is what 99.5% of fandom, regardless of gender, imagines when they hear the words "feminine man") look hot on TV doesn't mean they'd ever want to actually date one. Hell, even baby-faced white twinks are becoming kinda passé. Himbos are all the rage right now and I'm sorry but the average guy just isn't himbo material.

Another reason you shouldn't use people's attractin to fictional characters as a baromater is because fictional characters are just kind of... Innately superior to real people, in the sense that it's much easier to glance over all the less palatable aspects of their characters and focus exclusively on the aspects that appeal to you. You can't really do that with a real person.

This is of course not even taking cultural differences into account. I am gay myself and even I'm afraid of presenting as femininely as I'd like to beause (body image issues nonwithstanding) I live in rural Brazil and that's just not socially accepted here, be it by women or men. If I were a straight guy and I did try being A Little Gender and Gay I'd get rightfully told to go fuck myself.

So for my conclusion, I definitely don't know enough about the topic to say whether or not you're right about it, but the advice offered is only a basic foundation that only really helps if you've already got okay to good social skills - which let's be honest, just doesn't describe most men, straight or otherwise.

Even if a guy does every single thing you've advised here though, all he'll have accomplished is... Being a sort of okay guy, maybe. That's a good start for sure but even then you're still gonna fall short. You're still not gonna be interesting, or special, or exciting... Or good enough. And in my experience, if you aren't these things already, you'll probably never be.

TL;DR, here's my point: I think your advice is ultimately harmless, but commits the usual error of only providing a semi-real sense of hope. I'm willing to bet a lung that you and your casanove friends all have much, much more to offer to potential partners than anyone in this thread has or ever will have... And that's kinda the problem. The harsh reality you're avoiding is that some people aren't meant to find love - and if you haven't already found it, that probably includes you.

For what it's worth, I do at least have a boyfriend. We'll probably never meet IRL, but it's good enough for me. Maybe the real lesson OP and other guys should learn is how to acept the cards you've been dealt.

I looked at this thread

and it's another signal from the world of something like "sociosexual realism". Which is like, feminism or whatever told us that men and women were equally agentic, but unfortunately it was lying, and actually it's men's responsibility to be seductive, and if they fail at that then TFR goes down and the Amish win.

It's not just the thread, a lot of relationships and dates make me feel this way.

I'm stuck believing this unpleasant belief. What am I missing? Is the world not like that?

[littlevices]

What is this man!? Or: Me Overthinking Reigen's Fighting Ability, lol

Reigen Arataka. 28 years old. Used to be a normal salaryman. Runs Spirits and Such Consultations and is the self-proclaimed "Greatest Psychic of the Twenty-First Century.

Where did he learn to dropkick a bitch?

No, seriously. Where did he learn half the shit he does. Sure, you can explain his punches as something he can learn with his green belt, but not the fact that not only did he dropkick someone, he rebounded and landed on his feet. That is almost some Dimple level acrobatics for someone without any supernatural abilities or enhancements.

Sure, we can chalk it up to anime logic all we want, but that's not as fun, so I'm going to ramble and overthink instead. (As I do.)

Disclaimer: Some spoilers for later events in the show.

Okay, so. Reigen has a surprisingly large repertoire of skills. Some of this I can chalk up to his family life.

His father is apparently a local politician/civil servant, his mother a housewife, and his sister a bank employee.

Clearly Reigen gets his speech skills from his father, and maybe some of his other tricks, like using rice as glue, may even be from his mother. Granted I'm probably stretching that a bit. He could have just as easily learned that from trying to save money, lol.

We also know he didn't fit in while in school, which, as we all know, can lead to instances of bullying. Whether that bullying is physical or not, who knows. All I've seen looking around is that he apparently got skipped over when it came to games and stuff, but there could have been more to it.

Where am I going with this? You'll see.

So, the green belt. We know from season one that Reigen specifically says he has a green belt in shorinji kenpo. Now, I will be the first to admit I don't know much of anything about martial arts on a deep level. I can, however, do some quick research *cough* google *cough* (Do you think Reigen would be proud of me, lol).

According to what I've found, a green belt in a number of martial arts can be anywhere from beginner to a beginner-intermediate or even intermediate level. It depends on the martial art of course, but I think also the school. The same seems to apply to what I could find on shorinji kenpo. Or Kempo, because that's what I keep finding, someone please correct me if need be. I think people have also called it Xiaolin Martial Arts, which I also took a brief look at, but the concept appears similar there as well. Now, let's give Reigen the benefit of the doubt considering what we've seen him actually do, and assume the man went to a pretty decent school. A green belt is clearly not a master level or even a high level belt. If anything, though, this means the man can handle a regular petty thug just fine, and we've seen that. The seance scene in season 1 by itself proves that easily.

However, it's the other stuff that makes me wonder.

Again, this man drop kicked a dude, an esper that was currently using his power by the way, then rebounded off him to land on his feet. Beyond the dropkick itself, which from what I understand is impractical in a fight, he also rebounded. Rebounding can be hard to do off a stationary object, let alone a person. Yet here Reigen is, doing it causally off an esper that controls gravity.

His punches are also pretty damn devastating. Again, he can knock people out. He did this during the seance, but then tried it on Muraki. While he didn't knock him out, he definitely did some damage.

Not only would he need to be strong to do this, he'd also need to be fast. He's also fast enough that someone like Suzuki had to make a clone of himself to dodge Reigen's fist, rather than block or just dodge it normally. Either Suzuki was feeling extra that day (much to Sho's chagrin) or Reigen caught him off guard enough he actually had to use his powers.

This brings me to the next point.

Reigen knows how to hold a gun.

No, no. Wait, hear me out. Yes, I know it's a toy gun, but it is still a toy gun supped up on psychic energy. Not only does Reigen hold it nice and steady, he's got some damn good aim. That shot went for Suzuki's face or at least his throat.

Now, granted, I hear airsoft is a popular past time in Japan, so maybe that's where some of it comes from, which is still pretty neat.

He also didn't hesitate to shoot. One look at Mob and he pulled the trigger. Suzuki got one warning before that, and he didn't even get the chance to defy it before Reigen shot. Now, Reigen is a smart man, he probably figured the gun wouldn't work, but damn if he didn't try. Honestly, he was probably panicking and kicking himself on the inside, but he certainly didn't show it.

There's also the fact that, when you look, Reigen almost always instinctively knows to protect his head and neck when he gets thrown around. It's probably the most obvious in the Mogami fight when he gets picked up and slammed, but you can see it in the final episode as well when getting flung around by ???'s tornado.

This man has either gotten enough sparring that he knows to do this on instinct, or he's been in enough scraps that he's had no choice but to learn or get concussed. Also, in the Mogami arc, Reigen tries to stop Mogami (in Minor's body) by kicking him in the head. Mogami was moving very fast, but Reigen's kick did land.

Too bad it was Mogami and not any one else because it might have worked.

He also knows a couple knee strikes, which again was used on a moving target.

Now, let's step back and bring up Reigen's family again. There's always the possibility that Reigen got his green belt young due to his father's occupation. Now, that might only apply if his father was a rather important one, but still something to consider. It could have also been in self-defense if the bullying he faced in school got physical. I personally think Reigen got his green belt at an older age, earliest highschool, but obviously there's nothing to back that up. It also makes me wonder just how many of his clients have gotten violent, because while he did flinch at the knife during the seance, he also didn't hesitate to deck the dude.

This doesn't even bring up the fact that Reigen knows all kinds of massage techniques (I heard that his family wanted him to be a massage therapist, but I don't know if it was said where that information came from), psychology, his ability to cold read people, and everything else this man does.

Granted, a lot of his effectiveness comes from him being smart and charismatic. This man is a manipulator and thank god he's got morals because holy hell the damage he could do being able to manipulate Mob.

Or the damage Mob could do if anything serious happened to Reigen. >.>;

All in all, I think Reigen has gotten into way more scraps than is suggested. I feel as if he might have had a rougher life at school than what little hints we've gotten. That whole thing with the Separation Arc felt kind of like him projecting onto Mob, but I could be wrong. Personally, I headcanon Reigen as being something of a truant and/or delinquent (or at least a gremlin) when he was younger, but that's just me, lol. I do think he's had a rougher go of it than he likes to tell, though.

I know I didn't cover absolutely everything here, like Shimazaki, and that there's probably more context or something in the manga, but this post was already long enough and I haven't read the manga in full yet so apologies if there is missing context.. If you made it to the end of this post, I want to both thank you, but also apologize for my long winded rambling, lol. I just - Have no idea what to make of Reigen and all that he does. It doesn't help that a lot of his backstory is fairly non-existent. We only know tidbits about this conman, but I guess that's part of what makes him interesting.

Well, hopefully you had fun reading this post as much as I had making it. I know most of this can probably be just anime logic, but I had looking into it at least! If this wasn't a world of espers, Reigen would probably fairly formidable in a fight, on a physical level anyway. He's already like that on several others already, lol. This sweaty rat just always seems to grab my attention. . .

[funazuka]

wounded Bryophyta

this is based from his Promotion Record

After a period of rigorous training, Bryophyta's combat abilities have shown visible improvement. Compared to how defenseless he was when he started, he has already made the first steps towards finding a fighting style that suits him – either through keeping his distance, or using his agility to make up for differences in strength. He often uses his tenacity to tough out the first volley of attacks, before finding the right moment to create an opening for him and his teammates to counterattack.

We've noticed that the tenacity he's displayed during training can actually be attributed to the Originium Arts he subconsciously uses during critical moments. From what we know, his Arts allow him to craft small objects from soil and stone, such as the dolls resembling fluffy creatures he's shown us.

Looking back at his training videos, we can see that his Arts have a new way of manifesting: by quickly generating tiny earthen barriers in the area about to be struck, he effectively improves his physical resilience in actual combat. We believe that this may be a concrete expression of the ideas of "guarding" and "protecting others" apparent in his personality.

Of course, Bryophyta's usage of his Arts is only at the novice level, and he has not yet mastered a way to continuously control this ability. We will continue paying attention to any future possibilities for him.

"Why do you push yourself so hard to learn combat skills when you get beat up this badly every time...?" –A question posed by a Medical Operator.

"Because every explorer needs to know a bit of self-defense, of course..."

"Eventually, I need to take Lut and Liv to all sorts of different places..."

"It's okay... I can keep doing this..." replied Enis with a wince as he got up from his hospital bed.