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lovecoatedwords · 24 hours ago

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”Promised vows”

part two

featuring: poly marauders x reader (arranged marriage au) angsty but also fluff (later on)

a/n: hello lovely! I am so sorry for the wait, I had some imp exams so I couldn’t quite get the time to write but here it is! I wrote this in parts so it might feel a tad bit different but I am really happy with how this turned out.

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The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the tall windows,. You moved quietly, your steps very light on the floor, fearing being too loud would make you unwelcome.

The kitchen smelled like tea and toast and a life that didn’t include you.

James was already at the table, back straight, sleeves rolled up. There was something harsh about the way he read the morning papers—his eyes scanning the pages like they’d personally offended him. Across from him sat Remus, who seemed to be, half-asleep, whilst stirring his tea without drinking it. His book was open in front of him, unread.

Neither looked up when you entered.

No “Good morning.” No “Did you sleep well?” Not even your name.

There was a plate on the table. Toast. Eggs. Nothing fancy. Just… there. Waiting, ceremonious but no warmth or meaning behind.

You pulled out the chair slowly, wincing at the scrape of it. It being the loudest thing in the room. Still, they didn’t flinch. Just… kept on with their morning activities, on which you seemed to be unwelcome

You sat down. You tried to eat.

Your hands trembled a little. You blamed the cold.

Sirius wasn’t there.

You almost asked where he’d gone. Almost. But stopped yourself. It didn’t matter.

Maybe he’d left before you woke up. Maybe he’d gone to work. Maybe he’d left because being around you was too much. You seemed to think he was a bit more pettier than the others

You looked up at them, the men you were now married to. And it hurt.

Not because they were cruel. They weren’t.

They were just… Beautiful. Untouchable. Distant.

James’s jaw clenched as he flipped a page. Remus, stayed quiet but looked weary and tired, his hands trembling just a little when he reached for his tea.

You stared at them for too long.

And neither looked back.

They didn’t even notice.

You wondered what they saw when they looked at you—if they ever did. A burden? A duty? A girl too young, too soft, too in the way?

You swallowed hard around the lump in your throat and forced down a bite of toast.

It tasted like nothing.

Remus finally said something, voice low. “Sirius had to meet someone in the city. He’ll be back tonight.”

You nodded. You didn’t ask who. You didn’t ask if it had anything to do with you. You didn’t ask if they even cared that you were sitting here, trying not to cry into your breakfast.

The hours after breakfast stretch on like a second silence layered over the first. TheNo one speaks to you. No one checks on you. The men have disappeared into whatever quiet parts of the estate they belong to—and you to your room

By mid-afternoon, the ache in your stomach is sharp enough to be distracting. It isn’t hunger, not really. It’s the gnawing discomfort of not knowing where you are allowed to exist. Not knowing if you are even allowed to ask.

You wander into the kitchen slowly, cautiously, like a child entering a room not meant for them. The air smells faintly of cinnamon and old wood. Everything is spotless, in order. Lived in, but not by you. You pause near the counter, unsure what to do. The idea of opening the cupboards feels wrong. You don’t know if you are meant to cook your own meals or wait for someone to notice you. No one has said. No one has said anything.

You reach out to open a drawer, maybe find a plate—maybe just something to prove you can do something for yourself—but before your fingers can close around the handle, James’s voice cuts through the stillness.

“You’re hungry.”

He doesn’t look up from where he stands by the far counter. His tone is flat, disinterested, as if your hunger is just another point to account for. Nothing more.

You blink, startled. “I—yes.”

He reaches into the bowl beside him and picks up a pale red apple. Walks over to the drawer you haven’t opened, pulls it open with practiced ease, and retrieves a small paring knife. No words. No warmth. He places both in front of you—apple, then knife—then steps back, as if the exchange has ended.

You hesitate. The knife looks too sharp. Or maybe it’s just your hands that feel too clumsy, too unsure. You pick it up anyway, trying to steady yourself, willing the trembling in your fingers to stop. It’s just an apple. Just a knife.

You press the blade to the fruit, trying to slice it the way you remember your mother doing. Your hand slips. The knife catches the edge of your palm, a clean, sudden sting. Blood wells up instantly, bright against your skin. You gasp and drop the knife. It clatters to the floor.

James turns toward you fully then, eyes catching the red spreading across your hand. “For fuck’s sake,” he snaps, voice sharp with something between disbelief and frustration. “You can’t even cut a piece of fruit properly?”

You flinch. The words hit harder than they should have, not because of what he said, but how he said it. Like it is proof of something he’s already decided about you. Useless. Helpless. A burden.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, not looking at him. The apology slips out too easily. Too naturally.

James stares at you for a moment longer, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling in silent aggravation. Then he crosses the space between you quickly and grabs a kitchen towel. He takes your hand—too roughly at first, then adjusts his grip, as if catching himself—and presses the cloth against the cut.

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just stand there and let him wrap the cloth around your hand, your eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder. His hands are warm. Steady. You hate that your chest aches from the contact.

“You’ll bruise if you grip the blade like that,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“I know,” you whisper.

James says nothing. Just ties the towel a little tighter, then steps back like the wound is fixed, like the moment is over. But your heart is still stinging, your eyes hot with tears you refuse to shed in front of him.

“I’ll… clean it up,” you say, voice trembling.

“Don’t bother,” James replies, already turning away. “It’s just a mess.”

He doesn’t say if he means the fruit. Or the blood. Or you.

You stand there long after he leaves, the apple untouched, the knife still on the floor. The towel around your hand is damp with blood. The cut has stopped bleeding hours ago. The towel is still wrapped tight around your hand, too tight now, the fabric stiff with dried blood. It throbs, but you don’t care. Not about the cut. Not about the ache.

Eventually, you end up in the library. The one room that doesn’t feel cold. You sit on the floor near one of the tall windows, back against the wall, knees pulled to your chest. The bandaged hand tucked against your side.

You haven’t meant to cry. The first tear slips out quietly. Then another. Until it turns into silent shaking, your breath catching in your throat. You press your uninjured hand to your mouth to muffle the sound.

That is where James finds you. He has something in his hand—a roll of proper gauze, antiseptic, tape. He stops in the doorway when he sees you. You don’t see him at first, but the sudden shift in the air makes you glance up, your eyes red, face blotched with the kind of crying that doesn’t ask for comfort.

James stares at you for a long moment. Not moving. Not speaking. Just watching.

Your voice cracks. “I’m fine.”

It is a lie and you both know it.

James steps in anyway, crossing the room in a few long strides. He kneels in front of you—not graceful, just efficient—and holds out his hand, palm up. “Let me see,” he says, quieter this time. “The bandage.”

You don’t move at first. Then, slowly, you uncurl your hand from where you’ve been hiding it, letting him take it. He unwraps the towel with a sharpness that doesn’t match the gentleness in his touch. The cut is red and angry now, a line of dried blood across your palm. He doesn’t say anything, but you see his jaw tighten when he sees how the fabric has rubbed raw against your skin.

“You should’ve changed it earlier,” he mutters, almost scolding.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

That makes him pause. His hands freeze over the roll of gauze. His eyes lift to yours. “Allowed?”

You look down. “You didn’t… say anything. I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

There is something in his face that flickers—just for a second. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. But it is gone too fast to name.

He goes back to wrapping your hand, more careful this time. Slower. Like he doesn’t want to hurt you again. But the silence between you grows thick. And when you sniffle, trying to hide the last of your tears, he lets out a breath.

“You shouldn’t think this too much ,” he says, voice low, gruff.

You blink at him, startled. His eyes don’t meet yours. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

The honesty of it stings more than the words. But there is no cruelty in his tone—just exhaustion. Like your tears cracked something in him that he didn’t have the tools to fix.

You want to apologize. But you don’t. Instead, you say, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He finishes tying the bandage and finally looks at you. “I almost didn’t.” Then, softer—barely audible: “But you shouldn’t have had to ask.”

And just like that, he stands up, collects the leftover supplies, and leaves the room.

You stay in the library, where at least the shadows are honest. You don’t cry again. You just stare out the tall window, watching the gray sky press down on the trees.

It is nearly evening when you hear the front door open. Voices follow—deep, warm, familiar. Laughter. Your heart stills. Footsteps echo down the hall, boots against stone. You recognize them immediately. Sirius. Then James’s voice, relaxed in a way it hasn’t been all day. And Remus’s low hum of amusement. The air shifts as they enter the main room across the hall. For once, the house doesn’t feel empty. Just full of something you aren’t part of.

You don’t move. But you listen. The sound of Sirius’s voice is louder now, full of warmth. “Missed you two,” he says, with a grin you can hear in the words. There is a soft, familiar sound. The wet press of a kiss. Then another. Your chest tightens. You don’t need to see it. You can feel it—but you don’t get any of it,

Another voice—Remus, laughing under his breath. “You’re late.” And Sirius’s answer, low and teasing: “You love me late.” Another kiss. Louder. Careless. Warm. You haven’t even realized you are standing until your shoulder brushes the edge of the doorway.

Sirius sees you first. He is still smiling when he looks over. Still flushed with wind and happiness, his hair messy from the cold outside. He looks like everything the house has been missing. Until he sees you. The smile falters—just barely. But you see it. The drop in warmth. The pause. His eyes flick to the bandage on your hand. A beat passes. He doesn’t say anything. No “What happened?” No “Are you okay?” No “I’m sorry.” Just a glance. Just a hesitation. Then he looks back to James, his hand still resting on Remus’s waist. And you are nothing again. Not a wife. Not a part of them. Just something in the background that doesn’t fit the picture.

You turn before anyone can speak. You don’t hear Sirius call after you. Because he doesn’t. You don’t run. That would’ve made it dramatic. Instead, you wallk with your bandaged hand tucked against your chest like something shameful. Like something broken. You don’t know where you are going. Just that you can’t stay there. Can’t stand the sight of warmth that doesn’t reach you. Kisses exchanged like stuff you’ll never be trusted with. Laughter you can’t translate.

Eventually, you end up in a room you haven’t been in before. The door is cracked, so you let yourself slip inside, small and quiet. It is a guest room. Bare. Undisturbed. The kind of room no one lives in. You like it for that. There is a chair by the window, worn at the edges. You sit in it, legs pulled to your chest, forehead resting against the cold glass. The garden outside is gray with frost. Empty trees. Wilted hedges. It matches how you feel—half-alive, barely holding on, trying to find beauty in being left behind.

You don’t cry. Not this time. You just sit there, still and small, trying to pretend you don’t feel like an intruder in your own life. You hear the door open behind you nearly an hour later. Light steps. Remus. He doesn’t speak. Not right away. Just stands in the doorway like he isn’t sure if he should come in. Like he isn’t sure if you want to be found.

“You always sit like that when you’re trying not to feel something.”

Your eyes flick toward him, tired. “You don’t know how I sit.”

He gives a soft, almost-sad smile. “I notice more than you think.”

You don’t reply. He crosses the room, slow and deliberate, and sits on the edge of the bed—not too close. Just… there. Near enough to reach you if you ask. Far enough not to assume you would.

“I saw Sirius,” he says gently. “Saw you leave.”

You nod once, gaze still on the frozen garden. “He looked so happy.”

Remus doesn’t answer that. Because you both know it is true.

“He kissed you,” you add after a moment, the words tasting like ash.

“He always does when he comes home.”

Your lips curve—not quite a smile. “I wouldn’t know.”

Silence settles again, heavy and understanding.

“You’re not angry,” he says finally.

You shake your head. “I’m not allowed to be, am I?”

That stops him. His hands fold in his lap. His voice is softer now, more cautious. “You think we don’t see you.”

You don’t answer. Remus looks at you—really looks. “You think we’re built for three. But not four.”

Your breath catches. He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “We didn’t expect this. Any of it. We didn’t know how to fit someone else into something we thought was finished.”

You turn to him, eyes wide, voice cracked. “Then why marry me?”

He doesn’t flinch.

“Because you were worth saving,” he says simply. “Even if we didn’t know how to love you yet.”

Yet. That word sits in the air between you, fragile and terrifying. Your voice trembles. “You’re all so close. You know how to hold each other. You speak in glances. I don’t even know where I’m supposed to stand.”

Remus’s brow furrows, the pain in your words hitting somewhere deep in him. “Then we’ll learn,” he says, barely a whisper. “Where to make space. Give us time?”

You look down at your hand, freshly bandaged, still stinging. Remus reaches forward, slowly, and brushes his fingers over yours.

“I’m sorry James snapped at you,” he says gently. “He doesn’t mean to hurt. He just… forgets that silence is its own kind of cruelty.”

Your throat tightens. You don’t pull away. Remus doesn’t leave you that night. He doesn’t say anything grand or dramatic. He just stays in that bare guest room with you, sitting beside the window until your body slumps forward and sleep takes you under, bone-tired and emotionally wrung dry.

When you wake the next morning, your hand still hurts—but there is fresh gauze on it. And a cup of tea, still warm, resting on the nightstand. He hasn’t stayed in the bed. But he’s brought you quiet.

Days pass. Nothing shifts with James or Sirius. James still greets you with nods, never warmth. Speaks to you only when necessary, his words clipped, efficient. Always polite. Never soft. Sirius… Sirius is worse. He laughs with Remus and James. Slung arms around their shoulders, kissed their temples when he came in from long nights away. His smile returned the moment you left the room.

But Remus—he notices. He starts small. On the fourth morning, you find a second mug waiting beside his in the kitchen, steam curling from it like a quiet offering. He doesn’t say it is for you. He doesn’t have to. You understand and just nod appreciatively

On the seventh night, when Sirius and James have gone to bed without a word, you find Remus still in the library, half-asleep in an armchair, a blanket folded on the cushion beside him. No question. Just room.

By the end of the second week, he is waiting for you to sit at the breakfast table before starting his meal. He doesn’t announce it. He just makes space. And that is the first time in this house you don’t feel like furniture.

One afternoon, you find yourself in the garden. The cold has softened a little, enough for bare fingers. You kneel by the dead lavender, running your unbandaged hand along the brittle stems, half-remembering the way your mother used to braid them into ribbon when the summers were long.

You hear footsteps crunch behind you and don’t look up. You already know who it is. Remus crouches beside you, not touching,

“You used to like flowers,” he says, more observation than question.

You nod, fingers brushing one of the shriveled stalks. “My mother did. I think I liked them because she made them feel important.”

Remus is quiet for a moment. “Do you want to plant something new?”

You blink. “I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to decide now.”

You turn to him, finally meeting his gaze. There is no pity in his eyes. No sadness. Just presence.

“Do you always make room for people like this?” you ask softly.

He gives a small, tired smile. “Only the ones no one else knows what to do with.”

That makes you laugh, a small sound, startled out of your chest. It is the first time it doesn’t feel wrong to laugh here.

That night, you sit at the dinner table while James and Sirius discuss a meeting you haven’t been told about. James barely glances at you. Sirius doesn’t look at you at all. But when Remus passes you the bread, he does it without looking away from you. Not rushed. Not embarrassed. Just sure. a small smile showing peace and somewhat warmth.

Like maybe you aren’t an afterthough. Like maybe you could belong.

You casually strolled through the house after dinner, You hadn’t meant to walk past their study. Hadn’t meant to stop, either. But you did. The door wasn’t closed all the way. A sliver of light spilled out, golden across the stone floor. Voices followed. James’s laugh—low and rare, but unmistakable. Sirius’s louder, brash and bright, the kind of sound that used to fill entire rooms in the stories your father once told. And Remus’s, softer, trailing in after the other two like a breeze behind a storm. They were talking about something stupid. Some joke from years ago. Some memory you weren’t a part of. Their voices tangled like a language you didn’t speak. It was warm in there. Safe. Theirs. You stood outside the door and listened for exactly six seconds. That was all you let yourself have. You didn’t wait for silence. Didn’t risk being seen. Just turned, quietly, and walked away.

Remus noticed when you weren’t at the table the next night night. He noticed the untouched tea in the kitchen. The room that should’ve held you left gently cracked, but empty. He found you in the old sitting room on the first floor. The one no one really used. You were curled on the far end of the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, a blanket clutched too tightly in your fingers like it could hold you together. You didn’t look up when he entered. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He said nothing. Just walked over to the old bookshelf, browsed for a moment, then pulled down a worn hardcover, its spine cracked from years of quiet hands. He didn’t ask if he could sit. Just settled into the chair across from you. Let the silence breathe. Then opened the book. His voice broke the stillness gently, like someone stepping into a room they didn’t want to disturb. “‘It was the best of times but it was the worst of times…’” He didn’t rush. Didn’t look at you while he read. Just let the words fill the space between you.

You blinked slowly, watching the firelight dance along the edges of his face. The way his voice dipped and rose, not for drama, but for rhythm. Steady. Soft. Safe. After a while, you shifted. Loosened your grip on the blanket. Let your knees fall to the side. And you listened. Not because you liked the story. But because someone had chosen to share it with you. And that was enough.

You’d stopped pretending to follow the plot five pages ago. Your head rested lightly against the back of the couch, lashes growing heavier by the minute. Every few seconds your eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment. Remus didn’t seem to mind. He kept reading, voice soft, unrushed. The cadence steady, anchoring. Maybe he knew you were drifting. Maybe that’s why he kept going. Your body eased. And for the first time since the ceremony, you began to fall asleep without fear.

Then the door opened. Not loudly. No slam. Just the subtle sound of hinges and presence. Remus’s voice faltered, caught mid-sentence. He looked up. You didn’t. But you felt it. The air changed.

Sirius stood in the doorway, shadow outlined in firelight. He didn’t look at you. Not once. His eyes were only for Remus. There was no anger in his face. No jealousy. Just something tight behind the eyes, like he’d swallowed something bitter and was still deciding whether to spit it out. Remus didn’t move at first. But Sirius tilted his head—barely a motion, nothing more than a flick. Come. A silent command. Not cruel. Not kind. Just final. Remus hesitated. Then he closed the book. You felt it—your body twitched faintly at the sound. Your hand shifted beneath the blanket, just barely reaching toward where the warmth had been. He stood, slow, reluctant. You didn’t open your eyes. Maybe you were asleep. Maybe you were pretending. It didn’t matter.

Because Sirius still didn’t look at you. Didn’t say a word. Just turned, and left the door open behind them as he led Remus away. Like it was warning you: Don’t get comfortable.

A/n: hehe i think i did a good job at giving comfort in this part but then giving it An angsty end 😈 also if this seems a bit off track it’s because i wrote it with too many breaks in between :/ (exams )

Tags:

@hellothere7 @0yo @doyouseethewords @yvessentials @daydreamandforget @zellington @kinghalchalamet @literishdegree99 @helloxgoodbi @eli0eli0eli0 @dearsarahriley @maraudersgirlie @screamingsilence3 @arielthee-potterhead @spencers1nonlygf @magicwithaknife @notmonstersapocalipse @amo-a-los-postres

if you wanna be tagged, send in an ask or comment! If you have ideas for next or any feedback, my inbox is open :)

#remus lupin x reader #james x sirius #marauder #james potter x you #poly marauders x you #remus lupin #poly marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius x reader #james x reader #poly marauders x y/n #poly marauders #poly marauders x reader angst #Angst #poly marauders x reader arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #promised vows

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blond3ang3l · 3 days ago

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Previous part

Eren breaking you and your bf up

"He needs to mind his business." Those words made his blood absolutely boil when he saw what your boyfriend texted you. He didn't mean to go through your text messages but when he saw your boyfriend texted you while he was using your phone he went to tell you. When he saw what your man said though is when he knew that he needed that nigga to get going somewhere. Not only that but his mind was so stuck on what happened the last time he had watched you and your boyfriend through the little plushie. You cried out his name, not your boyfriend's, his. You loved him and he needed to get rid of the last obstacle to get you all to himself.

Your boyfriend already wasn't great compared to Rennie. He spoiled you so much, giving you whatever your heart could desire. Your needs were always met with him to the point that you didn't even have to ask your boyfriend for anything because Rennie knew before you even told him sometimes just based on how you talked about things or looked at them. Your boyfriend was just...okay compared to him. Nothing really bad but nothing special. Just boring.

Your boyfriend had gone quiet on you the past couple days making you obviously upset. Your friends had taken notice and tried to talk to you but you pushed it off as nothing to them. Truthfully you didn't want to tell them about the really big fight you and your partner had about his jealousy issues. Lately he had been just acting so weird. He had started complaining about everything you did. About your clothes being "too dressy", or you were "putting too much effort" in your hair. Enough was enough when you woke up to him literally throwing shit around while going through your phone. He hadn't found anything that made you look bad but simply some pictures you had took.

You had no idea what the cause of the weird behavior was.

Eren didn't though. He was the one behind your boyfriends paranoia. Making fake accounts to text your boyfriend about how lucky he was to have you. Using them to comment under your photos, leaving heart eyes, anything to absolutely fuck with his mind. He was trying that man absolutely fucking crazy, and the more annoying he got the more you would push him away and fall into Eren for reassurance. And damn did his plan work when you called him three in the morning in years of how exhausted you were with your boyfriend and hated him so much. He felt horrible at just how much he was enjoying just how upset you are.

"Please Ren, I just can't with him anymore. He just fucking pushed down my desk and it broke everything on there. My mirror, jewelry, everything just destroyed. I have to replace all of it now." It was almost hard for him to understand you because of how hard you were crying from frustration. Eren was the slightest bit shocked. He deemed the guy as a man baby, but breaking your shit? "I'm on my way okay? Just unlock your door. Don't worry about your vanity we can go out tomorrow and look for stuff to replace it. I'll be there soon." When he heard a small "okay" on your end it only made him smile while he got his shoes on. The plan got a little rocky sure , but now you needed him more than ever and he would happily oblige.

@merakidoll

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#spotify #fanfic #x character #x reader #x black reader #x black plus size reader #x black male reader #x male reader #yandere #aot eren #eren x reader #eren aot #aot x male reader #aot x chubby reader #aot x black reader #eren x black reader #eren x y/n #eren x male reader

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tobiosbbyghorl · 1 day ago

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Hyper & Chill | psh

special act 5: stolen cheesecakes

It was only Y/N’s third official night living with Sunghoon, and things were going too smoothly—until she committed the ultimate betrayal.

She ate the last two bites of his leftover cheesecake.

His cheesecake. The one he specifically wrote “HOON’S ONLY!!!” on with a permanent marker directly on the container.

He stood by the fridge that night like a heartbroken man, staring into the empty container like it had personally betrayed him.

“You…Lolove…” he turned dramatically toward her, container in hand, “you ate it.”

Y/N, in her cozy oversized hoodie, blinked innocently from the couch. “What?”

He pointed an accusatory finger. “My cheesecake. The one with my name. Written. Twice.”

She tried not to laugh. “I was craving something sweet…”

“I was saving that for my post-shower dessert and emotional comfort snack,” he sulked, slamming the fridge shut softly (because he was still gentle even when being dramatic).

“You had seven bites yesterday!” she protested.

“Exactly. I was emotionally attached.” He marched off to the bedroom in silence, hoodie flapping behind him like a betrayed prince.

Y/N, of course, felt mildly guilty. But also…it was just cheesecake. She knew he’d get over it. Probably. Maybe.

But when she climbed into bed later, he was already turned away from her, dramatically curled up under the blanket like a burrito of betrayal.

“Hoon…” she whispered, poking at his side.

No response.

“Loloveee…” she kissed his shoulder gently.

He shifted further away and mumbled, “Don’t touch me, dessert thief.”

Y/N snorted and kissed the back of his head anyway. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

⸻

The next morning

Sunghoon was still firmly burrito-ed in bed when Y/N woke up. The early sunlight bathed the bedroom in soft gold. And she had the perfect idea.

She tiptoed under the covers, inching herself closer to his body until she reached his bare torso. With all the stealth she could muster, she slowly slid her head under his shirt from the bottom—popping her head right out of the neckline like an adorable goblin.

“Good morniiiing,” she beamed, grinning up at his sleepy face.

Startled, he blinked down at her in disbelief. “What the—how did you—”

Before he could finish, Y/N peppered kisses across his collarbones, neck, jawline, and the center of his chest. “I’m sorry I ate your cheesecake,” she mumbled between kisses. “Please don’t divorce me.”

Sunghoon tried to stay annoyed, but her nose nuzzling under his chin and her breath on his skin made it impossible.

“This is cheating,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

She giggled, peppering more kisses across his stomach. “I’ll buy you ten cheesecakes. And label them all. With sparkles.”

Sunghoon sighed dramatically, cradling the back of her head as she nestled closer. “Fine. You’re forgiven. But only because you’re cute and warm and kind of smell like strawberries,Lolove.”

She grinned and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re such a baby.”

He wrapped his arms around her, “I’m your baby-”pulling her fully on top of him under the covers. “And you’re mine.”

They stayed like that for a while—soft giggles under the sheets, sleepy cuddles and kisses, cheesecake wars temporarily forgotten in the warmth of shared blankets and stolen morning peace.

taglist: @iboughtnjz @rikidaze @pocketzlocket @jaerisdiction @ijustwannareadstuff20 @doririsstuff @whateveridontcarsheesh @rikifever @firstclassjaylee @jayhoonvroom @veilstqr

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife

a/n: the role has been reverse ( that’s what happen if your in love with one another,you guys adopt🙂‍↕️) i miss them and i can’t really post updates really since im still busy so yeah this will do! tysm and ily mwah

#hyper&chill #luvbytaerungz writes #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon x reader #enhypenwriters #sunghoonfluff #sunghoononeshot #sunghoonxreader #enhypenxreader #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fluff

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foreverromanticising · 1 day ago

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renegade | ln4

(8) a phone call from zak reminds lando of his reality that he had been trying so hard to run from

lando norris x fem!reader | 1.9k words | a still perfect summer with lando norris

(a little bit of a shorter chapter however very heavy in content that took me a little longer to write - pls enjoy and send me all ur thoughts! alsoooooo after this we have two chapters left, ten in total, before i move onto the next lando pic so pls!! stick around for that)

(also!! reminder this fic is based off of renegade by big red machine and taylor… lmk if u can see the cracks and similarities)

masterlist<3

Resentfully so, Lando peeled his body away from yours, a mix of bare skin and white sheets, and began getting ready for the day. Memories of the night before returned to him in the form of a pink flush dusting over his cheeks every time he caught a glimpse of your naked skin, almost taunting him from the way you laid across the bed. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bed again, to get under your skin and drag his lips across every inch of your body.

But a phone call from Zak that morning, high-pitched and blaring as it his phone rang from his bedside table. He found himself thanking his lucky stars that you merely stirred in your sleep and cuddled closer towards his pillow once he slipped out of the bed beside you. Though, he had to fight a smirk from forcing its way onto his face once he picked up the phone over the thought of why you were so tired from the night before. The ache in his legs was reminder enough as he tried to keep some sort of composure as he spoke to Zak.

It was a minor phone call, a meaningless chat if anything, but it left Lando reeling. A quick discussion about some upgrades to the car for after the summer break, some reminders about training, and another gentle - though, usual - reminder from Zak that he wanted Lando to stay in check; keeping being responsible. It was the same speech from Zak after every sort of break that Lando would be away from racing - begging him to stay in line, a reminder he was doing well, and to keep PR in mind at all times.

Truly, the phone call wasn’t the worst Lando had ever had from his boss - Kingsday only a few months ago left a sour taste in his mouth when he recalled the messages he woke up to after his so called ‘PR disaster,’. But, Lando hadn’t been expecting it. He had had the morning planned out in his head as he wanted a slow and sultry wake up call with you in his arms. Instead, he woke with a panic and his heart racing far too quick for his liking.

It started his whole day off wrong, he didn’t want to think about anything to do with racing when the was in Greece. He wanted to be with you, with his friends, under the Grecian sun and pretend he wasn’t a Formula One driver. So far, he had been successful in doing so - albeit, he faced a blip after seeing Charles and Carlos - but he was happy.

You helped him bathe in this fantasy of his. You had no idea he was Lando Norris, Mclaren Formula One racer, you knew him as Lando - or Lan as he preferred. You knew Lando as the boy who refused suncream and had the tastebuds of a child, the boy who drove maybe a bit too fast for the backroads, and who picked you out the shiniest of shells from the sea because they reminded him of you - ‘the prettiest shells for his pretty girl’. You didn’t expect anything of him, you weren’t questioning his every move after a race, and you couldn’t have cared less about his championship standings.

Partly because you still didn’t know that side of Lando existed, and he had every intention of keeping it that way in order to maintain his peace.

Lando kept Zak on the phone whilst he got ready for the day, absentmindedly agreeing to everything he said whilst his mind drifted off to how you two would spend the rest of the day. He was becoming acutely aware of how your time together was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do about it to hold on. The days were running thin and the clock in his mind ticked even louder with everything Zak was saying to him; he needed you to drown out that sound, to make everything quiet again for him.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long before you made your way into the bathroom behind him. The mirrors in the bathroom had fogged up with steam so you wasted no time in dragging your hand over them, catching Lando’s eyeliner through the reflection. You stayed quiet whilst he said his goodbyes, busying yourself with brushing your teeth and pretending you weren’t listening to Lando’s phone call - because you absolutely weren’t and you had no idea what the man on the phone meant by ‘the rest of the season is ours,’ so you pretended to be more interested with the contents of your makeup bag.

“Morning, baby.” Lando took a step closer towards you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pushing some stray hairs behind your ears so he could take a proper look at you - stood in nothing but his shirt from the night before, and he could’ve sworn you were trying to get a reaction out of him but he knew when you smiled sweetly back up at him, he knew you were none the wiser.

“You’re up early, hm?” It was entirely unusual that Lando was awake before you as you spent most mornings trying to coax him out of bed despite his many protests, so to say you were shocked was quite an understatement.

“Yeah, work phone calls take priority apparently.” He still wasn’t too happy with Zak phoning him when he knew that he was in Greece, trying to create a distance between himself and racing for at least a few weeks. But now you were stood beside him, taking his mind off of that, so he couldn’t complain all too much.

“Even on holiday?” You tutted and rolled your eyes, understanding Lando’s annoyance because you couldn’t imagine how you would feel if your boss had called to chat about work when you had time off. “There should be a boundary set there, honestly.”

“I know but everything’s just so important to him, it can’t wait another few days ‘till I’m back,” Lando sighed and ran his hands over his face, trying his hardest not to let anything Zak had said to him seep into his mind but he was beginning to struggle in his fight against his own mind. “I get it, I do, him being stressed and whatever, but, fuck I mean, I’m fucking stressed, y’know, and I don’t think he’s getting it.” His breathing picked up more than what Lando would’ve been comfortable with, it caught in his throat and crawled through him, threatening him as tears that pricked at his eyes.

You wanted to interject, to try and soothe him however you could, but you let him keep speaking - let him speak his mind. You figured it would be better for him to truly let his feelings out into the open before you tried to ease his anxieties.

“I just, I don’t think I can take the pressure sometimes, it feels like everyone’s expecting me to be something I’m not,” He could hardly get his words out in between his shallow breathing, he tried biting his lip to keep his composure but it was useless - his sobs fought their way to be seen, to be heard, and he couldn’t pretend that keeping his emotions at bay was any use. No matter what he done, or how he felt, his emotions would fight their way through him as they bubbled to the surface. “I dont- I can’t- I dunno. God, sorry.”

“No, Lan, no, it’s okay.” You quickly shook your head and moved closer to him, your hands cupping his face to try and pull him back towards you instead of letting him spiral into the mess of his own mind.

“You don’t- I just, I don’t want you seeing me like this.” He tried to pull away, to hide from your worried eyes, but you kept him in your hold. Your fingers dragged across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen from his eyes as you could feel Lando’s breathing beginning to slow down.

“You’ve got nothing to hide, not from me.” You could understand why Lando wouldn’t want you to see him in a state like this, but you didn’t want him to feel like he had to hide from you - you wanted to be there for you.

“Sorry, it’s stupid to get worked up like this, especially about work,” He took one final deep breath and clasped his hands over yours as they still rested over his cheeks, tangling your fingers together. “I just get in my head sometimes, get worried about shit I’ve got no control over - I just wasn’t expecting to have to deal with it over here.”

“It’s okay to get worked up, it’s not stupid- you’re not stupid,” Though your words weren’t the most colourful, they were heartfelt and exactly what Lando needed to hear. “You don’t have to be anything, you just have to be you.”

“I don’t think I’m meant for this sometimes,” Lando leant back against the bathroom countertop, unable to stop the words from spilling out - though, he should’ve thought harder about what he was saying to you, knowing it was more than what he had ever planned for but he couldn’t help it in a brief moment of weakness. “I want to live like you, I think, sometimes. Just travel and meet people and live freely, just do whatever I want. I hate that people have an idea of me in their head and I can’t live up to it.”

“The best you can give people is yourself, there’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not.” You moved to stand in between his legs, Lando’s hands then finding solace on your waist as he tried to keep himself grounded.

“You see me, though. And I like that,” Lando dipped his head closer to yours, his lips hovered over yours but he didn’t dare to press a kiss there, not yet. “I don’t have to pretend to be anything, I get to just be me.”

“That’s all I ask for, Lan.” You closed the gap between you and Lando, your hand resting on his chest as you felt him relax any tensions within him under the pressure of your touch.

“So, that farmer’s market is still there today- you up for it?” He pinched your waist, seemingly in a far better mood than he was all of ten minutes ago. “There’s local honey, homemade jewellery, organic produce. We could take a drive, do some shopping, y’know embrace being a tourist for the last while.”

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded your head and embraced the smile on your face as it hid the minor uneasy feeling that was building in your chest over the thought of how little time you had left with Lando without so much as a plan for what would happen when all of this had to come to an end. So instead, you focused on Lando in front of you and the thought of the farmer’s market with him.

#formula one #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you

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neediestwhore · 1 day ago

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what jujutsu kaisen men would do seeing their partner go through withdrawl; jjk men x gn! reader (other characters coming soon)

cw; drug abuse, drug addiction

a/n; i'm not sure how others went through withdrawal, but this was based on my experience and how i felt without ice for a week straight, cold turkey. AND IT WAS SO BADDDD, i'm so happy i'm sober now. these are shorts instead of headcannons btw

___________________

GOJO SATORU

gojo used to constantly joke about how your hands were always cold and shivering. how you needed him as your personal heater everywhere you went. it was peculiarity that made you, you.

in the beginning, when he noticed that your hands were colder than usual. he thought it was due to you not eating your meals as often having to work late nights at the office. it was odd of course, he was concerned and pleaded with you to go see a doctor, reasoning with you that your hands felt like your veins were made of ice itself. but you brushed him off, expressing that it was probably because you were losing weight.

a few weeks after, he noticed your rapid weight loss, how you looked like bones. there wasn't any plumpness and radiance to your skin anymore. you looked like a walking corpse, your skin was paler, your hair was thinner, your voice, it felt raspier too. there were so many signs, how could he notice?

gojo occasionally cleans the bathroom. imagine to his surprise when he finds chunks of your hair stuck in the drain. baffled, he decided to confront you about it, trying to find out why you looked so different, even if you feel different. repeating what you did a few weeks back, you brushed it off like it was not a concern.

gojo noticed how you were unusually snapping at things frequently, things that wouldn't bother you back then. the simplest things like him tapping his feet on the floor, calling out your name, tickling you, those were all things you used to love. now it just brought nothing but annoyance to you.

gojo was hurt by your change in behaviour, he was desperate for an answer, all those nights begging you, pleading with you, to just give him an answer, tell him what he was doing wrong, but to no avail.

one night, you woke up gasping for air, drenched in sweat, clutching your chest. you couldn't breathe, gojo assumed that you just had a nightmare. he cradled you in his arms, burrowing your face into his chest, and rubbing your hair, whispering that everything was okay and that he's here.

gojo slowly beginning noticing things. how you would lock yourself in the bathroom for more than an hour constantly, shouting through the door that you were having constipation. the bathroom cabinet was frequently ransacked, razors were being taken apart and pills had been taken.

gojo had some idea of what was going on, but he refused to believe. not y/n, not his y/n.

he decided to take matters in to his own. one morning, you finally left the bathroom after spending at least 3 hours in it. gojo searched everyday in the bathroom, he was desperate for answers. he checked behind the drawer and to his horror, he found a tiny glass pipe wrapped in a old t-shirt, buried all the way back. he felt tears brimming in his eyes and and he was disappointed, not in you, but in himself. how did it take him almost a month to find this out, all this time when you were suffering from an addiction, he chose to turn away and listen to your sweet and reassuring lies. he felt his world crumble, his baby, his little baby that still slept with stuffed toys, his baby that drank from a kid's water bottle because you thought the design was cute. how could he have ever let you suffer like this? his poor baby.

when you came back into the room, pale and trembling, you were met with gojo's piercing blue eyes, and the glass instrument in his hand. he was silent. which was unusually of him, normally he would argue and try to reason with you if you did anything wrong, but this time he was quiet, just staring at you. gazing into his aqua eyes, heavy with sorrow, you could tell that what you did shattered him.

frozen, you couldn't come up with any lies at the top of your head. your mouth opened, you wanted to lie, and tell him that it wasn't yours, it was a friend's. but you just couldn't. lying would hurt him even more, judging by his face, you saw how broken and distraught he was.

"y/n, why? please just say something baby." gojo said, barely holding his voice, tears started to stream down his pale cheeks.

"i needed it-" you whispered. "i was really stress from everything going on, you- you don't undestand."

your eyes were glossy, you felt shameful. you this from gojo to protect him. you were hooked, you can't stop even you want to.

the look in his eyes stung you.

gojo stood up from the bed. he wanted to scream and cry in your arms. how could you have done this? why did you hide it from him for so long? but all he could muster up was a faint "are you experiencing withdrawal right now?"

you nodded.

gojo then collapsed into your arms just like the first day he found out you agreed to be his partner. this time, instead of experiencing euphoria, he felt nothing but despair and hopelessness.

the both of you sat in the floor for a long time, tangled in silence and trembling limbs. you cried like something in you had died that day, you were sure he was going to end things with you. gojo hugged you tightly, telling you that things would be okay and that he promises to love you forever and never leave you.

you fell asleep crying in gojo's arms, your face burrowed into his chest. you looked at peace. oh, how wished you could forever look like this.

silently, gojo cried above your figure, running through your hair while repeating, "oh my baby", gently sobbing as reality dawned on him that he wasn't there when you needed him most, that was why you turned to ice. he could do nothing but wail and beg for your forgiveness while you sleep.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

sukuna wasn't someone you would deem as soft or kind-hearted. he was the complete opposite.

he found enjoyment in people's misery, kept to himself and was an asshole to everyone.

everyone but you.

you were the only one that made him smile and laugh, the only one that could shut him up with a look, only you could touch him. no one else. sukuna didn't say "i love you" very often, instead he showed it through his actions, he would put a blanket over you and bury you kisses when you slept before him, he would make sure to ready a meal up before you got home, he would always make sure you drank enough water, sometimes forcing you to gulp a big glass of water so that you wouldn't be dehydrated.

but these couple of days, something was unusually off about you. not only did you not seem yourself, but sukuna also noticed a change in your behaviour, mannerisms and expressions. you didn't seem like the cheerful girl you were back then. you were cold, indifferent and shivering.

you were trembling. not just "the air-conditioning is too cold" trembling, but a nervous system breakdown. your skin was ghostly pale, your eyebags were darkening, your eyes were somehow always bloodshot, as if you didn't sleep for a while. wait- has he ever seen you sleep these days? he always slept before you because you kept on insisting that you weren't tired and just wanted to finish your book.

you were sweating through your sweater, not being able to sit still for a couple of seconds without roughly scratching your legs and arms.

you threw up 5 mornings in a row, reassuring him that it was just food poisoning and that sukuna was overthinking. but he knew better. he did. you barely touched the meals he cooked for you.

on that fateful day, sukuna came back home, exhausted from work. sukuna panicked. he found you curled up on the couch in the living room, blankets hovering over your frail figure, but you were still shaking, your eyes were uncannily wide and your pupils were blown.

"y/n?" he muttered baffled at the sight in front of him.

you didn't answer.

"y/n." he choked out at the verge of breaking down and sobbing on the floor.

still no answer from you.

sukuna dropped to his knees in front of you, eyes glistening with unshed tears. he began shaking you. sobbing out, pleading for an answer, for you to tell him what was going on.

your lips moved with all the effort you could muster up. "i'm fine."

"bull-fucking-shit" he snarled with panic instead of anger. "you look like a corpse."

and you denied yet again. the fact you didn't want to tell him what was going on was the final push to him breaking down and wailing in front of you.

"nono, you're not baby, please tell me what's wrong, i'm begging you please." sukuna whimpered out, choking through his cries.

you winced. you've never seen sukuna like this before, desperate with tears and snot running down his face, his nose and cheeks flushed.

"i'm fine." you muttered. "i stopped a few days ago."

sukuna froze

"stop what, y/n"

realization dawns on him as silence flooded the room, your eyes told him all he needed to know. his sweet little y/n that always calmed him down, babied him despite how aggravating he could be to deal with sometimes.

he could only choke out a sob as he holds you in arms begging you to forgive him for not being there for you, pleading with you to just stop, and telling you it was going to be okay and that he's here now.

to be continued...with other characters of course.

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x fem reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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callalillywrites · 2 days ago

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Bad Idea Made Better

My first entry for @flufftober's Fluff Bingo. A5 - "This is a bad idea."

This is also my first real fic for Aaron Hotchner and the Criminal Minds fandom. I hope I did him justice here.

Fluff Bingo Masterlist | Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Word Count: ~2200

Summary: Everyone is wanting to celebrate Dave's newest bestseller, but things go a bit awry. Thankfully, you and Aaron know how to work together to make everything better.

Warnings: mentions of illness; surprise parties; lots of fluff and sweetness all around

A/N: I really do adore this story, and I'm definitely looking forward to writing more of Hotch as he's always been one of my favs from the show.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

"I don't know, Aaron. This feels like a really bad idea," you couldn't saying as you both juggled the multiple objects in your hands. "Dave doesn't strike me as someone who appreciates others invading his space."

Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to chuckle at your misgivings.

When you would've liked to nudge him or playfully shove him for laughing, all the stuff in your arms prevented you. The only thing left in your arsenal was snark, and you'd always had plenty of it.

Before you could unleash any though, Dave's front door opened.

Penelope squealed upon seeing the many items you two carried, motioning you both inside. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, I'm so glad you're here. We could really use your help, my sweet lady."

You didn't get to ask why because Penelope had grabbed the only free space she could find and dragged you from Aaron's side. A glance behind you to see Aaron shaking his head, his smile visible and growing, before you were pulled deeper into Dave's home.

Penelope didn't let go until she'd gotten you into the massive and beautifully kept kitchen.

Well, used to be beautifully kept, you realized. It honestly took you a few moments to find the kitchen you considered your dream kitchen under all the mess.

"What happened in here?"

That was all it took for Penelope to dive into the juicy info she'd gathered since she arrived that morning.

From your understanding, Joy had been in the process of starting some food prep with her hubby when Kai woke up sick. Of course, they'd dropped everything and took Kai to the ER. His temp was way too high, and he complained of tummy ache. The ER took them forever. Kai was diagnosed with a stomach bug that should resolve itself in a few days. By the time they returned to Dave's place, they'd been too exhausted to even recall the mess they'd left behind.

Kai, understandably, has been their priority over any cleaning they might've done this morning before Penelope and Derek arrived.

"Penny," you surveyed the damage, not comprehending how a little prep has led to this much mess, "this can't be all Joy."

"Oh, it's not," she assured you before she recounted more of this kitchen's odyssey.

When she and Derek arrived, they did set out to clean up and start over, but neither of them had ever really been so great at making pasta, let alone Dave's favorite dishes. They'd gathered every cookbook they could find around the house before Penelope got out her laptop.

Every appliance Dave owned had been pulled from their respective spaces and used in some capacity. Not one of them had been saved from a dusting of flour or whatever paste the two had seemed to create instead of pasta dough. Some of it even appeared to have started crusting over, hardening where it'd been left.

"Take these," you said in a nonsense but gentle tone, "and get Aaron. I'm going to need his help in here. Oh, and Penny, please pray I can get through this mess and still have time to make everything we agreed to make."

"On it, sweet lady," she said, her heeled steps clicking her departure. She paused in the doorway and met your gaze over her shoulder, her smile sweet and infectious. "I'm really glad you're here, and I have complete faith in you."

You surveyed the mess once more, developing a working game plan. The mess would take at least a half-hour to clean. Another hour or so to make enough food for the surprise party. Time would be cutting it close, but you felt confident this could work.

"What do you need, honey?" Aaron asked, his arms coming around your middle.

Your confidence increased at his arrival and sweet words of assistance.

Turning in his arms, you rose as high as your toes allowed to place a sweet kiss on his lips. A smile crept over your features as you met his warm brown eyes. "Your attention to detail and some elbow grease."

"You've always got those," he said with such promise. His lips curved into a grin that had your insides melting a little, but you reluctantly pushed those feelings aside. Oh, this man could do things to you that you never thought anyone would be able to do.

It took a moment before you regained your professionalism and set him to work.

Between you two, Dave's disaster of a kitchen returned to his level of pristine cleanliness. You'd even done it with a few minutes to spare with the half-hour block you'd estimated earlier.

It helped that you two had learned to work so well together, having cooked many meals together.

Sure, the days where Jack joined were a bit more chaotic, but they were no less fun and soul healing. Jack, not so little anymore, still proved helpful and resourceful whenever a mishap threatened to topple whatever plans had been made. He'd even picked up quite a few skills from both you and Aaron, doing his part whenever it was called for.

You wouldn't trade any of the days you've shared with Aaron and Jack for anything, you realized, as he set up the few appliances you needed. Your love for them had been set deep within your heart, and you looked forward to having as many more as they'd allow you.

"What's that face?" Aaron asked, his hand coming up to trace over your cheek. "I don't know that I've seen that face before. You okay, honey?"

Shaking yourself, you smiled with all the love you had. "Yeah, I'm good. Really good."

He studied you another moment. Whatever he saw must've lent truth to your words because he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

A squeal from the doorway had you both turning towards it. Wry grins stole over your features as only one could make that noise from the team, and that was Penelope.

"You two are just so cute," she gushed.

Her hands were clenched beneath her chin as she practically vibrated where she stood.

You could only shake your head as you asked, "Need something, Penny?"

"Oh, yeah, I need to borrow Hotch. I'll send him right back, sweet lady."

After assuring Aaron and Penelope you could manage on your own for a bit, you quickly set about to work. The first task you needed to complete was making enough pasta for everyone joining for this celebration of Dave's latest bestseller.

A quick glance at the clock promised you'd have just enough time to get everything finished on time as long as no other hiccups occurred.

Aaron returned a few minutes later, and Joy even managed to join you two. She quickly figured out what was left and set about doing that, her gratitude evident despite her exhausted state.

When you were certain you had everything under control, you quickly searched out the fully stocked fridge and cabinets of Dave's kitchen. After grabbing a few items, you set them down on the counter and quickly made up something soft but filling for Joy, Kai, and Shawn. It wouldn't do to make them wait another hour or so for Dave's surprise dinner to eat something.

"You really don't have to do that," Joy said when she realized what you were doing.

Shaking your head, you shushed her. "It's not a problem. I've learned how fussy a young boy can be when they're not feeling well. This was one of Jack's favorites whenever he caught something. Maybe it'll help Kai as well."

Joy didn't argue after that, simply sat and watched as you finished everything up yet again.

When you would've trayed it up, Aaron stopped you, nudging you aside and taking over. His hands took up the few plates and bowls you'd prepared and set them in a manner that only one trip would be needed.

"I'll bring the tray if you'd like to grab the drinks, Joy," he said and waited until she led the way from the kitchen. When he reached the doorway, he paused a moment to meet your gaze. The softest smile graced his features as he said, "Do you know how much I love you?"

A smile bloomed until your cheeks hurt.

You nodded. "I do, and I love you just as much, Aaron."

"That's impossible, honey."

He didn't give you the chance to argue, his feet quickly taking him out of the doorway and catching up to Joy.

With the kitchen to yourself once more, you turned back to what was left to do.

Well, you thought you had it to yourself.

A noise near the back door had you turning to find Dave standing there. His suitcase sat at his feet and an amused but affectionate expression rested on his own obviously face.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough, mia bella," he spun his keys in his hand before coming further into the kitchen and sitting at his large island, "to know how much you mean to this team and even to my family."

Being the premier profiler, he didn't give you a chance to flounder but rather continued by changing the subject. "So, how much damage have they done to my house?"

You huffed, shaking your head at him. Amusement filled you when you caught the twinkling humor lurking in his expressive eyes. He only allowed a few people to see his mischievous side, and you felt quite honored to be one of those people.

"I'm sure it's not too bad. I did try and tell them this was a bad idea, but they were quite insistent as I'm sure you're aware."

"You're a good kid. If Aaron doesn't put a ring on your finger soon, let me know. We'll find you a good Italian boy, someone who'll appreciate all you have to offer."

To emphasize his words, he reached into the pan closest to him and snatched some of the pasta you'd just finished preparing. A soft moan of appreciation left his throat almost involuntarily, chewing slowly to enjoy each of the flavors you added.

"If I were twenty years younger…"

"You would make me wife number five?"

"You wound me, mia bella."

"My apologies, Dave," you said sincerely.

"Hotch is gone five minutes, Rossi, and you're over here trying to propose to his girl," Derek said from the doorway, his brows raised even as a wide grin spread over his face. "You're either a brave man or a stupid one. Ring or no ring, we all know Hotch is all in with Pretty Mama."

"That I am," Aaron agreed, stepping back into the room.

He didn't stop until he returned to your side where he belonged and had belonged for some time. His arm came up to wrap around your waist even as he dropped a kiss into your hair.

In a voice low enough only you'd hear, he said, "I have the ring at home. I'm taking you to dinner this weekend. Your favorite place. Our favorite table there. Have them slip it into your favorite dessert. Hope with everything in me that you'll say yes."

"You got Jack's blessing?"

He nodded. "He helped me pick out the ring. Even told me it took me long enough."

Laughter spilled out of you at that. Leave it to Jack Hotchner to know what he wanted before his father did. It heartened you to know that Jack cared about you that much as you cared about him just the same. You'd do anything for Jack, including stepping aside if he didn't want you in his or his father's life anymore.

Meeting his gaze, you found yourself getting lost in the love he so freely expressed in his gaze. It was enough to have your breath catching. His love for you hadn't been a secret for several months now, but every time he looked at you like that, you always lost your breath. How could you not when you had a man like Aaron Hotchner?

"What do you think?" he asked after a moment too long in silence. "Bad idea?"

You shook your head. It took several rapid blinks to get your emotions back under control. One of your dreams was coming true even if it was going to be another couple of days. You could wait. You would wait forever if it mean a lifetime with Aaron and with Jack.

"No, no," you said, swallowing down the lump that had risen, "it's a very good idea. The best idea you've ever had."

"So, you'll say yes?"

Happiness swelled within you, but you tempered it. No reason to not tease him for a moment after the incredibly sweet bombshell he'd dropped on you. Your eyes were surely twinkling as you said, "Guess you'll have to wait until this weekend to find out. Though, I'm certain the odds will be in your favor."

"You're going to keep me on my toes, aren't you, honey?"

"Always."

He pressed a kiss to your hair again as he whispered, "Good."

#fluffbingo #flufftober #criminal minds #aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #fluff #this was a bad idea #established relationship

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c-e-d-dreamer · 1 day ago

Text

'Tis The Damn Season — Part Four

A/N: it's lover day of @nestaarcheronweek and what better way to celebrate than with the penultimate chapter of this fic! I hope everyone enjoys, and this is your warning: smut ahead 😉

Read on AO3 // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian throws his arm forward, his knuckles colliding with leather. The bag in front of him sways slightly with the force of the blow, but it’s not enough. He throws a punch again and again and again. Until he can feel every hit reverberate up his arm. Until he can feel the familiar burn in his muscles. Until it feels like his knuckles are going to split even through the wrappings around them.

It had been stupid.

It had been stupid to invite Nesta into his bed the other night. He should have known better. He should have known that despite his words and promises of it being totally platonic, he’d wake up wrapped around Nesta like he needed her to breathe. He's been pulled into her gravity since the moment he met her. Since she and her friends walked into one of his classes at his gym. Since she rolled those pretty blue eyes at his cheeky jokes to get the class started. He’s been chasing that eye roll, chasing her smile and laugh, chasing her orbit ever since.

So was it really that surprising that when the sun had crept across the floorboards of the bedroom, Cassian’s arms were curled securely around Nesta’s waist, his nose buried in the golden brown strands of her hair, his heart beating in time with hers where his chest was pressed along her spine?

Stupid.

It had been even more stupid to invite Nesta back into his bed last night even after how they woke up that morning, after they dared to dance so close to that line but still never cross it while playing cards. It had been stupid to play that silly little game of truth or dare, to think it was a good idea to answer and ask so honestly. To think it was a good idea to lay his heart so bare, still bloodied and bruised and yet so wholly hers.

He works his fists harder and faster against the punching bag in front of him, the smack of leather echoing around him, thumping in time to the cracked heart beating in his chest, to the blood rushing in his ears. Over and over again, he punches. Stupid stupid stupid.

“Well, this is just sad to watch.”

Cassian huffs, not even bothering to stop his assault despite the familiar, drawling voice. “Fuck off.”

Rhys chuckles softly, stepping enough around the punching bag that he comes fully into view. He has a pair of silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of them. His dark hair is sleep mussed and sleep still clings to the corners of his violet eyes even as he watches Cassian take a few more reps against the punching bag.

“I know you own a gym,” Rhys comments, raising an eyebrow. “But 6am workouts on vacation might be a new low even for you.”

“I just need to move my body,” Cassian argues with a shrug, resetting his stance.

Rhys catches the punching bag to stop it from swinging, his eyes sweeping over Cassian’s frame. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“It’s not my fault the pull-out is so lumpy.”

“You have a proper bed.” At Cassian’s answering silence, Rhys sighs. “Don't tell me you can't even be across the hall from her so you switched with Az.”

Cassian huffs, turning away from the punching bag and his brother completely, tugging at the wrappings around his hands. What is he meant to say? How can he answer that? How can he possibly explain to Rhys everything that’s transpired over the past two nights?

“Honestly, Cass, it’s been a year now,” Rhys continues, something that Cassian is sure is meant to be sympathy coloring his voice. “I know it’s hard seeing her again, but don’t you think it’s time to finally move on?”

“You don’t get it,” Cassian grumbles, throwing his hand wrappings in the bin with more force than he probably needs to.

“Clearly. This is Nesta we’re talking about.”

Cassian growls, whirling back around on his brother. “Did you want to sub your face in for the punching bag?”

Rhys holds his hands up in surrender, taking a pointed step away from the punching bag. “Feyre will be upset if you bruise my pretty face again. It is her birthday after all.”

“You deserved it last year.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Rhys sighs again, letting his hands drop back down to his sides. “Look. I’m sorry. I don’t want to have this fight with you again.”

Cassian sighs as well, moving to where he left his water, taking a deep gulp of it. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, tries to center himself, but this whole weekend has simply been a mess. No point making things worse by rehashing old arguments with Rhys.

He can still remember the sneering comments made after that fateful night, after all the truths were revealed and Nesta had left. He can still remember the rage that had boiled through his veins, the feeling that thrummed to life and writhed in his chest, the demand to defend and to avenge. He can still remember the distinct crunch as his knuckles met Rhys’ face, the black eye his brother sported for weeks.

“I think I’m going to head out, after gifts,” Cassian finally says, turning to face Rhys fully again.

“Come on, Cass. Don’t be like this. There’s more snow blowing in this afternoon. You really want to be driving the mountain roads in that? One more night isn’t going to kill you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s already killing me,” Cassian tells him, pushing a hand up and through his hair roughly at the crack he can hear in his own voice, at the emotions he can feel clawing up the back of his throat and stinging behind his eyes. “I can't… I'm never going to love anyone else the way I love her. She's always going to be it for me. Always going to be the best damned thing that ever happened to me, and I was an idiot and blew it. And now, I have to be here, get to have her so close, but… but she's still not mine.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slides her fingers across the paper, across the penguins on skis there, before she carefully pulls it apart, revealing a spiral journal wrapped inside. She pulls it out completely, flipping through the different pages.

"It's a reading journal," Feyre explains, watching Nesta with bright eyes. "When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect for you. And I included a bookstore gift card in there for you too."

"Thanks, Feyre. This is perfect."

Feyre smiles at the response, turning her attention to her own gift in her lap. She tugs free the tissue paper and tosses it aside with abandon, the birthday pom-pom antlers adorned on her head shaking with the movement. She pulls out a crew-neck sweatshirt of some kind, and when she unfolds it properly, she laughs loudly at what she finds.

"Cassian, I cannot believe you!"

Feyre turns her gift around so everyone can see, and Nesta snorts softly at the embroidered words in the fabric: Painter? I hardly know her!

"Only the best for you, Fey," Cassian offers, pressing a smacking kiss to Feyre's cheek as he walks past her to hand another gift to Azriel.

Nesta can't help but track him across the room. She feels like she's been doing it all morning. Their conversation from yesterday, their silly little game of truth or dare, it all still weighs heavy on her mind, still weighs heavy on her chest, like a pressure expanding between her ribs and digging into her lungs. She barely slept after Cassian all but fled the room. Every time she closed her eyes, it was his face haunting her dreams, those hazel eyes clouded with emotions and marred with cracks of pain.

She'd considered, briefly, chasing after him, considered running through the hallway and begging him to stop. But she had no idea what she would possibly say to him if she did. She'd even dared to imagine a scenario where Cassian came bursting back into the room, where he made some grand declaration and the two of them really went back to how things were before, just like a scene out of one of her favorite romance novels.

But she'd long learned that was merely a fantasy, that reality was nothing like the stories weaved between ink on pages.

And besides, it's not like she's even had a moment to speak with Cassian, or even get him alone, since last night, between the boisterous spread of breakfast to now opening gifts. The only thing Nesta has truly been left alone with is her own swirling thoughts, with the words that sit heavy on her tongue. In fact, all she really has to show for the previous night, for the whole weekend really, is the crystallized claws wrapped tight around her heart and opening old wounds until they fester.

Cassian hands over the gift in his hands to Azriel, and Nesta watches as he dares to glance over his shoulder, dares to meet her gaze, but then he's quickly looking away again and moving across the room. Moving away and putting as much space as possible between him and her. Nesta has to swallow down a sigh, toying aimlessly at the corner of her new reading journal.

She tries to focus on the gifts being handed out and opened, tries to focus on Feyre's excitement as she's deservedly showered in Solstice and birthday gifts alike. It, at least, gets easier once the cake is brought out. She can focus on nibbling on the slice she's given, on the sweet, chocolate taste that blooms across her tongue with every bite.

But the taste quickly turns sour when she notices Cassian slip from the room completely and head for the stairs. She counts in her head, waiting for an acceptable amount of time to have passed before she quietly excuses herself. When she reaches the end of the hallway upstairs, she finds the door to Cassian's guest room already closed, and she pauses in front of it, hand raised to knock, but…

She still doesn't know what to say. Still doesn't know how to untangle the mess of old feelings and current feelings, of old wounds and scars. Still doesn't know how to sort through the way her heart still stutters at the sight of those hazel eyes and soft smile, the sound of that warm laughter. Still doesn't know how to put into words the yearning that twines between and around her ribs as surely as a golden thread she swears draws them together.

With a quiet huff to herself, Nesta shakes her head, spinning on her heel and instead retreating to her own guest bedroom. She's sure that a few minutes to clear her head, to sort through her thoughts will do the trick. But everything eddies out of her mind when she notices there's a gift placed neatly on the center of the guest bed.

She steps toward the bed slowly, frowning curiously at the simple brown paper wrapping. It looks so inconspicuous, carefully placed in the center of the bed, but the handwriting spelling out her name is unmistakable. She picks up the gift and unwraps it, and there's no stopping Nesta's gasp at what's inside. Before she can stop herself or even think twice, she storms out of the bedroom and across the hallway.

"Where did you get this?" Nesta demands, holding the book in her hand aloft.

Cassian pauses what he was doing, looking toward Nesta and raising an eyebrow. "… a bookstore?"

Nesta rolls her eyes, opening the book in her hands to the title page. "It's personalized and signed. And you and I both know that Sellyn Drake rarely does book signings."

"A lucky bookstore?"

"Cassian."

Cassian sighs softly, straightening and pushing a hand up and through his hair. "It wasn't that far. Besides, you know I like to drive, that the open road always helps clear my head."

Nesta blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around what he's saying. "You drove all the way to Athelwood to get me a book?"

"What else was I supposed to get you for Solstice? I wasn't exactly going to be able to fit bookcases in the back of your car for you to take home." Nesta's heart skips over itself at his words, the memory threatening to crash forward at them, but Cassian's almost self deprecating chuckle draws her right back to the present. "Don't give me that look. I know you, Nes. I know you still have those shitty Ikea shelves. They're going to start sagging under the weight of all your books. You need proper wooden ones."

Nesta swallows hard around the lump pressing against her throat. It's what he always promised her. Cassian was good with his hands, in more ways than one, and he swore that he was going to build her bookcases. Swore that he'd help bring her dream library to life.

It's too much that he still remembers that. Too much that he went out of his way to get her a signed book of her favorite author. It burns too bright in her veins and threatens to claw right out of her skin. She needs a distraction and fast, and when she glances around the room, she notices what had Cassian's attention before: his duffel bag.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," Cassian sighs softly, turning back to the duffel bag as well, zipping it up. "Got to get back to the gym."

Nesta scoffs at that. She knows running when she sees it. She used to be damn good at running from her problems, pushing everyone away and shoving everything down deep where she'd never have to address it again.

"Bullshit."

Cassian lets out a sound somewhere between a huff and a humorless laugh, practically shoving at his duffel bag before he whirls on her. "What do you want me to say, Nesta? I can't do this. I can't…" Cassian swallows, shoving a hand up and through his hair. "I know I crossed a line last night, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. But you're it for me. You're always going to be it for me, and if it were up to me, we'd—" Whatever words were going to finish that thought, Cassian chokes them back. He shakes his head and turns back to his duffel bag, settling the strap over his shoulder. "It's better for me to just go."

He moves for the bedroom door, but Nesta is quick to step right into his path, blocking his way. "You should stay."

Cassian closes his eyes, and Nesta can see every emotion written so clearly across his face, every etch of pain that's echoed in the cracks through her own chest and heart. They're broken is so many of the same places, in the same way, and Nesta is tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of pretending she doesn't miss the way things used to be.

Pretending that she doesn't miss him.

So she sets the book in her hand aside and steps closer into Cassian's space, settling her hand on his chest, where she can feel his heart fluttering just beneath her palm. "I'm asking you to stay."

The sound of Cassian's duffel bag dropping to their feet is overly loud in the quiet of the room. His hand reaches up to curl around her own, his touch warm, grounding, where his fingers squeeze her wrist. His gaze dances over her face, searching, and Nesta just prays that he finds what he's looking for in her expression.

"Just for the weekend?" Cassian asks, his voice quiet and rough. "Or…?"

"You always were a big idiot."

Nesta's own fingers twist into the fabric of Cassian's shirt. She uses the grip to tug him down, tug him further into her, at the same moment she presses up onto her toes. It's like coming back home, slotting her lips against Cassian's. The press of his mouth, the taste of him, it sends a comforting familiarity twining warmly up her spine. Cassian sighs into her mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle her jaw, and Nesta practically melts into the kiss. Melts into him.

"I missed this," Cassian tells her, his lips skating across her jaw, down her throat. "Missed you."

His teeth scrape teasingly across her pulse point, and Nesta whines high in the back of her throat. "Cassian."

"Definitely missed you saying my name like that."

He draws his mouth back to hers, kissing her slow and deep. Nesta's pulse starts to flutter, and she swears Cassian must be able to feel where it pounds beneath his palm, where his large hand still spans across her jaw. She feels dizzy with the way Cassian kisses her, the sensuality of it, the way his tongue presses into her mouth and curls around her own.

When he pulls back again, his hands reach for her hair. Nesta can't decide if she should be surprised or touched that he still knows exactly where to find every pin buried amongst the golden brown strands. He tugs each one free until her hair tumbles down her shoulders and along her spine, the strands whispers against her cheek as they fall.

"Still so predictable," Nesta teases him, her voice quiet.

"And you're still so beautiful with your hair down."

Despite their time apart, it's almost practiced ease that Cassian walks them back toward the bed, that he sends Nesta tumbling back against the blankets. He kneels up onto the bed as well, caging her in with his large frame. As he kisses her again, Nesta's hands reach up beneath the hem of Cassian's shirt, dragging across his warm skin, dragging up the fabric. He pulls back enough that he can fist the back of his shirt, tugging it off completely and tossing it aside. Nesta practically moans appreciatively at the sight, daring to curl her nails against Cassian's shoulder, to bury her other hand amongst the dark curly strands of his hair.

"Your turn, sweetheart."

His hands make quick work of removing Nesta's sweater, her bra, and even her pants. It feels unfair, their comparative states of undress, but it's hard to focus on that when Cassian is looking at her the way he is. With his lips parted and his eyes dark, it's almost as if he's never seen her naked before.

"Fuck me," Cassian whispers, seemingly more to himself than anything.

He leans back down, latching his mouth to her throat. His lips drag across her skin, down over her collarbones until he reaches her breast. The hot press of his mouth against her skin only stokes the fire in her veins higher, like an echoing heat being brought to life. She arches up against him, burying a hand in his hair and dragging her nails against his scalp.

"Always flushed so pretty for me."

He switches his mouth's attention to her other breast, his hand finding home and continuing his previous ministrations, and Nesta is putty beneath him. She's always been so sensitive there, and the way his tongue swirls over her nipple, the way the stubble along his jaw scrapes against her skin, the way his fingers knead at the flesh, it all goes straight between her legs.

Nesta whines when Cassian pulls back, but he merely continues his path downwards, sliding down the bed until his shoulders are cradled between her thighs, until he can hook his thumbs into the waistband of her panties. He drags them down her legs slowly and tosses them aside before his fingers dig into the skin of her thighs, spreading her wider still.

It's unfair that one man can look so good between her thighs, with his hair already unruly from her own fingers, with his eyes dark and pinned directly on her, with that cocksure smirk of his beginning to peek through. It's unfair that she missed the sight of this so much.

"Fuck, look how wet this pretty cunt already is," Cassian groans, one of his thumbs skating over her teasingly.

"Cassian, please," Nesta whines, trying to buck her hips against his hold.

"That's a good girl. Listen to how you beg."

Just the words have Nesta's toes curling, but even more so when Cassian rewards her begging. He sweeps the flat of his tongue over her, tracing a line all the way to her clit. He repeats the motion again and again, his lips closing around and teasing her clit with each pass. Nesta's fingers scrabble for purchase in the dark strands of his hair, her ankles slipping against his shoulders.

Cassian groans against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure he draws out of her. She swears there's nothing like this, the way he works his mouth and devours her, the way he makes her absolutely dizzy with it. Nesta tries to rock her hips, tries to ride his face, but Cassian's grip on her thighs is too firm. He keeps his eyes on her the whole time, as he builds her higher and higher.

He's like a man starved, a man on a mission, and Nesta certainly isn't complaining, not when her entire body feels like a live-wire from the way he continues to eat her out. That all too familiar pressure builds low in her gut, and Nesta whines, Cassian's name bubbling up at the back of her throat, but she's unable to press it forward, unable to warn him before the dam breaks and her release tears through her. Her thighs squeeze around Cassian's head, pleasure burning though her veins like a wildfire.

But Cassian doesn't stop his ministrations. His mouth continues to slide against her, his tongue pressing into her cunt where it still clenches and flutters with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Nesta whimpers at the over stimulation, trying to squirm away, but Cassian merely tugs her right back toward his mouth.

"Cassian… fuck…"

Cassian finally pulls his mouth away, that cocksure smirk of his still firmly in place. "I almost forgot how gorgeous you are when you come."

He turns his head to press sweet, soothing kisses along her inner thigh, and Nesta melts back against the mattress and the blankets. But her reprieve is short lived when Cassian buries two fingers in her cunt. Nesta gasps at the sudden intrusion, at the way the thick line of his fingers drag against the walls of her cunt.

"That's it, sweetheart."

Nesta has to bite her lip hard to keep her sounds in when Cassian starts to move his fingers, scissoring and spreading them. All their time apart and he still knows exactly how to play her body, how to thrust and curl his fingers until she's keening and moaning.

"Taking my fingers so well," he tells her, squeezing in a third finger beside the first two and curling them.

The praise goes right to Nesta's head, the motion of his fingers flaring straight through her veins. Her hand snaps down to curl around Cassian's wrist, nails biting against his skin as she holds him, keeps him right there with his fingers buried deep. He groans at her response, his forehead dropping against her hip bone.

"Are you going to squeeze my cock as tight as you're squeezing my fingers?"

"Take your pants off and find out."

Cassian chuckles softly, his hazel eyes flaring when he tilts his head to meet Nesta's gaze properly again. "Still so bratty. Don't you want to be a good girl for me, Nes?"

He curls his fingers again as he said the words, but Nesta swallows down her gasping moan, refusing to back down. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

Cassian slides back up Nesta's body, his fingers never ceasing their brutal pace. He drags his nose over her collarbones, up her throat, until he can press a kiss to that spot behind her ear that always has Nesta shuddering, until he can sink his teeth into her earlobe.

"If our whole family wasn't just downstairs, I'd punish you for that," he whispers right against her ear, hot breath curling against her skin. "Have you screaming and crying until you're absolutely begging for my cock. But we'll just have to save that for when we're back home."

Pleasure is a flame twining all the way down Nesta's spine, and she turns her head enough that her nose bumps against his. "Promise?"

Cassian's smirk and the spark that flares through his hazel eyes feels like answer enough. He shifts enough that he can pull his fingers free, and Nesta whines at the loss, at the emptiness, but then he's clambering off the bed. Those fingers of his make deft work of his belt and pant button, and he shoves his jeans down his legs, kicking them aside. But then his hands pause in the waistband of his boxers, his expression slackening.

"I don't have anything."

The words have Nesta frowning in confusion, and she pushes up onto her elbows, watching him. "What?"

"I don't… I mean I didn't exactly expect this to be how the weekend went. Well, I'd hoped." Cassian sighs softly, tilting his head up toward the ceiling. "But I mean it felt a bit like putting the chicken before the egg if I packed—"

"Oh."

Silence falls between them and in the room. If Nesta listens hard enough, she can just hear the sounds of everyone still downstairs drinking and laughing and celebrating Feyre and the holiday. She doesn't have much to offer Cassian. She certainly didn't pack any condoms in her bag for this weekend.

"Wait."

It's all Cassian says before he turns on his heel, practically sprinting out of the bedroom door. He doesn't even bother closing the door behind him, and Nesta hisses out his name after him, scrambling to cover herself with a blanket. At least the open door gives her the perfect view of exactly what Cassian is doing, to watch him dart into the room across the hall and root around in what Nesta presumes must be Azriel's bag. When he finally returns to the room, he has a condom poised between his fingers, his smile wide and triumphant as he closes the door behind him.

"Who knew Az and Eris fucking like rabbits all weekend could be beneficial to us too?"

Nesta snorts softly. "Won't your brother notice you've stolen from him?"

"I doubt he's keeping count enough to notice," Cassian offers, kneeing up onto the bed again. "Besides, I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"Just shut up and kiss me."

Cassian shakes his head fondly, but he obliges to her request, leaning down and connecting their lips again. Nesta buries her hands in his hair, kicking the blankets off her body so that she can wrap her legs around his hips and pull him into her. Cassian groans into her mouth, teeth teasing her bottom lip.

He pulls back enough that he can finally shimmy out of his boxers, quickly tossing them aside. His lips are back on hers as soon as he's slipped the condom on, tongue pressing into her mouth and drawing a moan from Nesta's throat with every flick and curl against her own. The calluses of his hands slide across her skin, down her thighs, until they hook beneath her knees, hiking her legs higher around his waist.

He moves his lips along her jaw, her throat. The head of his cock drags against Nesta's cunt, and her whole body shudders in anticipation, but he doesn't press forward. He does the same motion again, teasing her, and Nesta tightens her grip on Cassian's hair with a huff.

"Cass, please," Nesta whines, trying to buck her hips up against him.

"There's that pretty begging."

He lines up his cock, and with a snap of his hips, he buries himself in her cunt, both of them moaning. Every nerve ending in Nesta's body zeroes in on where they're joined, where his cock stretches her and presses deep.

"Gods, I almost forgot how good it feels to have you wrapped around me."

He pulls his hips back just to rock them back forward again, building up a hard pace of thrusts. Nesta moans with every drag of his cock against the walls of her cunt, the way he fills her so completely. It has her clenching down hard around him, has her tilting her own hips up to meet every snap of his.

"That's a good girl," Cassian groans against her throat. "Squeezing me."

The praise only adds to the haze taking over Nesta's mind, the constant loop of pleasure and Cassian. She's little more than a mess of moans and whimpers and his name, little more than a puddle melting into the blankets beneath the press of his body above her. She barely even registers the pleas tumbling past her lips until Cassian's low voice cuts through again.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Keep you stretched and full."

His hand reaches down between their bodies, finding her clit with practiced each. Each tight circle he traces with his fingertips, each snap of his hips as he continues to fuck her, it only drives Nesta higher, her whole body on pins and needles and primed to fall head first over that ledge.

"Now be my good girl and come for me."

Nesta can do nothing but give in to the command. Spots dance behind her eyelids, and she clenches down hard as she barrels through her release, Cassian continuing to move his hips and elongating it as he chases his own. Even in her blissed-out state, Nesta makes sure to reach a hand up and into Cassian's hair, to tug just the way she knows he likes. Just the way to have his hips stuttering, his whole body shuddering as he comes with a groan.

When Cassian pulls out and shifts off of her, Nesta takes a moment to catch her breath. She pushes herself off the bed, picking up Cassian's discarded shirt off the floor and tugging it on. The large size keeps her mostly covered, the hem falling halfway down her thighs, but Nesta still pokes her head out the door, making sure the coast is truly clear before slipping down the hallway to the bathroom.

She takes the time to clean herself up, to splash water on her face and fix her hair in the bathroom mirror. When she steps back into the bedroom, Cassian has shifted to lay completely beneath the blankets, his hand tucked casually behind his head. There's no stopping the way her heart trips and stumbles between her ribs when his eyes meet hers, when that slow, soft smile she knows is just for her tugs across his face.

"Shouldn't we get dressed and go back downstairs?"

"Nap first, family time later," Cassian tells her, folding down the blankets in clear invitation.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but they both know it's fond, both know she was never going to do anything other than climb back into the bed. She's barely settled beneath the blankets before Cassian is shifting into his favorite position, arms tight and secure around her waist, his head pillowed on her chest.

"I almost forgot how cuddly you get after sex."

With how they're pressed so surely together, Nesta feels more than she hears the low rumble of Cassian's answering chuckle. Feels the soft puff of air as he sighs contently. Feels the way his arms squeeze.

"Better get used to it, sweetheart, because you're never getting rid of me now."

The words are barely more than a mumble against her chest, but Nesta still has to bite her lip around a smile. Wrapped up here in this bed, with him, she feels truly at peace. Feels warm and safe and happy. She raises her hand enough that she can card her fingers through the dark strands of his hair, dragging her nails just enough that she has Cassian all but purring, both their hearts slow and steady and whole.

"Good."

—

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annarobszombies · 2 days ago

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hey red! i had an idea for a fanfic…stanxeno taking in a teen reader where with the stone age rolling around and their parents being god knows where, they start to sort of treat them like their own? domestic wholesome found family type of vibe. i would love if you incorporated the reader being a bit of a science nerd as well so that kinda kicks off stan and xeno letting them stick around? sorta like a “if you have something to offer, you can join us” type of thing. then it could transform overtime into them feeling fatherly over them. random thought as well lol, but i feel like they would be such protective parents, especially stanley. i hope you’re doing well! thanks!

Stanley and Xeno are certified girl dads

I had to cut this short but I have so much more to say about this LET THEM BE FATHERS

If anyone asks, Stanley Snyder does not like children. He doesn’t hate them, per se, but he has absolutely no interest in them whatsoever. He doesn’t want kids, he doesn’t need kids, he’s perfectly fine with his life as it is.

You’re an exception, not the rule.

When you woke up, entirely on your own like some kind of marvel, and wandered into the colony, no one knew what to do. Xeno picked at your brain for hours once you were clothed, fed, and settled, and Stanley just sort of hovered nearby.

He didn’t try to be your friend, or anything like that. He just sort of existed in your space, and you drew him to you like a star does a planet. And where Stanley orbits, Xeno soon follows.

Xeno does like children. Not enough to ever consider having his own, but he always thought them to be elegant little things. The perfect way for humanity to pass on its knowledge for the future.

He takes on a sort of mentorship role for you. You had an interest in science, and proved yourself to be viciously smart. The two of you even had an extended conversation about the aesthetics of the periodic table.

You thought it was the ugliest thing you’d ever seen, while he thought it perfectly elegant. The discussion ends in an impasse. An agreement to disagree.

But mentorship was all he’d intended. Nothing more. He’d wanted to keep a healthy distance between the two of you, to keep you at an arm’s length. It wasn’t that he disliked you, he just wasn’t made to be anything close to a father, or anything similar. That was a role fit for someone like Byakuya Ishigami, not Xeno Wingfield. And yet, the universe does act in the most interesting of ways.

The change starts for Stanley when you’re caught crying in the middle of the night.

You were by yourself, sitting by the water, all curled into a tight little ball. You hadn’t even heard him approaching you, your sniffles and soft weeping acting almost like a summoning for him.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say. He just sits next to you, lifts his arm, and lets you collapse into his side. You babble apologies for the tears and snot, but he just shrugs it off. A few tiny stains on an all-black outfit meant nothing to him.

You end up crying yourself to sleep.

When you wake up that next morning, you’re in bed. You don’t remember how you got there, but Stanley must have carried you up and taken care of you.

In fact, after that night, Stanley keeps taking care of you.

He gets protective, hovering around you almost as much as he hovers around Xeno. He picks at what you’re wearing with a curled nose if it’s too revealing, scolds you for not eating or drinking anything after long periods of time, and is always there to listen when you need him to be. He also sits, patient and quiet, and lets you do his makeup.

It was a thing that was just for fun, at first. You’d been bored, and he’d been available to bother. You and Xeno had been making cosmetics just for the hell of it, and you’d asked Stanley to sit and be your model. He’d huffed and made a big deal about it, but he’d sat down and let you have your way. Since then, it’s become normal.

Xeno’s change in perspective came on a quiet afternoon.

He had you working on something non-essential. Mixing some chemicals and testing reactions; it was information he’d need later for other things, but it was mostly to keep you busy. As the two of you worked in pleasant silence, you let out a long sigh, prompting him to ask if you were alright.

“Yeah,” You mumbled. “It’s just…it’s nothing.” He frowned, pausing in what he was doing to give you his full attention.

“Tell me. It’s my duty as your mentor to help you where I can,” He says. The frown on your face deepens, your eyes flitting to look at him before refocusing on the chemicals in front of you.

“I just…this is gonna sound so silly but…I’m having a lot of fun, and that kind of made me sad,” You say, voice getting softer with each word.

“Why would something like that make you upset?” He asks.

“Because this is the kind of stuff I used to do by myself. And now I have both a mentor and someone who wants to actually do science with me. It made me wonder if this is what it felt like to have a dad.”

The room falls into silence as he processes your words. He’d never considered your family situation before. You’d adapted to the stone world so quickly, he’d nearly forgotten you were so young. Just a teenager. A child.

A child whose parents were nowhere to be found. He wasn’t even sure you had any, given what you’d just said.

“Have you been thinking of me as a father?” He asks, hesitant. He’s not sure what answer he wants to hear, but he has a strange sense of anxiety that vibrates through him when you think a little too long about your reply.

“Kind of,” You mumble. “If…that’s okay.”

The warmth that spreads through him is something unexplainable. It was like he’d just been given the best gift in the world. What an odd feeling, he thinks, for a man who’d never wanted children of his own.

“Of course,” He says. “I’m honored.”

Your expression brightens, a big grin spreading over your face at his words. The rest of the afternoon is spent making idle chatter while you two continue to work. When he returns to his and Stanley’s living quarters that evening, the two of them have the most important discussion they ever had and ever will have.

#dr stone #doctor stone #dcst xeno #dr stone xeno #dr xeno #xeno wingfield #stanley snyder #stan snyder #fanfiction #fanfic

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fancyfeathers · 18 hours ago

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Burn It All Down

(Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice)

Based on Yandere!Justice League with their darling!children AU

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Eighteen, Childhood Sweethearts -> Next Chapter

This chapter is told from the perspective of Arthur Curry's Son!Reader

Each chapter will be the perspective of the reader but as the different children since when I originally had this concept, they were all darling/reader characters.

You felt like you were going to vomit when you woke up, you felt horribly nauseous as if a part of you was missing, and your breathing felt different, not like how it felt when you were miles under the water’s surface in your home of Atlantis, that constant burn you felt in your lungs as if you had just went on a long run while breathing in cold air but you were merely swimming under the water. It felt like you were more so congested, those strong allergies you now got in the mornings on the surface, but there was nothing where you were now that you could be allergic to. It was a dimly lit room, mostly bare, with metal all around you as it lined the walls. There was a sink and mirror in one corner, then a table and a metal chair in another corner, which were not doubt bolted down. There was a sliding metal door on one wall, which was probably for a shower and toilet, then there was another door, but that one was more similar to an air-tight door, one that would be seen more on a submarine. Is that where you were?

You moved to stand up from the bed you were lying on, but you were not dressed in your suit; you actually had no idea where it was, and you were instead dressed in a black shirt, black socks, black sweatpants, and their was something on your neck, you reached up to grab it and it felt like a thick metal collar. Panic set into your stomach as you stood up and walked towards the mirror to see what it was, and it was indeed a collar with three red lights on it, definitely concerning, to say the least. You knew better than to mess with things you did not understand, even then it was even too shocking to even think about doing anything, you could only brace yourself against the sink, holding onto each side as your breathing grew heavy, a panic attack setting in.

You did not know where you were…

You did not know what happened to you…

You did not know how you got here…

You just knew you wanted to go home…

But where is home anymore?

Is it in the Penthouse with your friends and cousin?

Or is it in Atlantis with your mother, father, and all your friends who you grew up with-

“I see you are awake.” You were so caught up in your panic that you did not even hear the heavy metal door open, or notice the person coming to stand at your side who had a hand painfully gripped onto your shoulder. You must have gasped when you turned your head about to see a man, dressed in a sort of black, high-tech armor, his helmet removed. His face resembled your old friend Kaldur’ahm in a way, though he was older and did not have Kaldur’ahm’s hair. You could hardly process what was going on in this moment, so when you looked over the man again to see him holding a helmet under his arm, a helmet you recognized but were already too terrified to recognize anything. “You are just as my son described you.”

“W-what’s going on…?” You must have looked like a scared and cornered animal to him because he did not stop you when you backed yourself up to lean against the bolted-down metal table. Then it finally hit you as your eyes widened in horror, and your heart pounded so hard against your chest that it hurt. “You… you’re Black Manta…”

“I am, but you have nothing to worry about as long as you behave.” His voice was stern and cold, but not necessarily malicious at the moment, at least. He gestured to the bed, a motion to ask you to sit down. “Please sit, I would like to discuss something with you.”

“Oh… okay.” You listened to him, sitting down on the edge of the bed, your eyes finding a spot on the floor to stare at it, finding yourself far too overwhelmed with everything happening at one to be able to look the man in the eye, even if that us what your own father taught you that is what was poilte. “W-why… why am I here?”

“My son cares about you very much, I do not understand why Kaldur’ahm cares so much about you…” Your stomach felt like it dropped when you heard those words. That cannot be right. Kaldur’ahm was raised by Sha’lain’a and Calvin Durham in Shayeris, you know, you have been there before to visit Kaldur’ahm when you were on break from the Observatory before the two of you left the school, though for separate reasons. Though Kaldur’ahm had disappeared a little while over a year ago, not too long after the death of your shared friend, Tula, but Kaldur’ahm could never betray your father, he loved Atlantis, he could never do something like this, could he? No, that could not be right. “...but I believe you could potentially help my son, he was mentally attacked by the Martian witch known as Miss Martian, she has left him in a state of mental ruin, he is currently in a catatonic state, perhaps the sight of you will repair his mind.”

“What… what if it doesn’t? What if I can’t fix him?”

“Then you will care for my son physically while we find a telepath to do so instead.” You watched as he put he lifted up his helmet to place back on his head, his voice changing due to perhaps some sort of voice modulator, the same sort of voice changer you have seen used by Firewall when he was running communication lines, but that sort of thing was mostly a joke from Firewall. “Kaldur’ahm is asleep at the moment, You will be taken to see him by one of my agents, Tigress, when he wakes up. If you try anything, your collar possesses the ability to administer shocks that I think you will not find comfortable. You will find that you will be unable to use any of your Atlantian abilities, also due to the inhibitor collar, so I suggest that you do not try anything. I trust you understand, yes?”

“I… I understand.”

You have no idea how much time has passed since that first conversation with Black Manta, it has been a few days at least since you found yourself falling into a routine, waking up early, or what you assumed what was early since it was before you could hear any movement in the hallway of feet walking on metal, which was always very loud. You would get cleaned up for the day, dressing yourself in whatever clothes you were brought the night before, which always looked similar. Someone would then bring your breakfast, normally this was Tirgress, then whoever brought you food would watch you while you ate, so you don’t get any ideas like prying off your inhibitor collar with a fork. After breakfast, whomever was with you would take you to Kaldur’ahm and it was depressing to see him like that, it was like he was alive but truly dead on the inside, he had no idea that you were there at all, of course it disappointed Black Manta that the sight of you could not bring his son back to his senses, but you also had a different purpose to serve here, taking care of Kaldur’ahm. You helped feed him breakfast after you arrived, which you were ashmanded that you had experience in, there were times back in Atlantis where your own mother got so depressed on certian days that she did not respond to anything and it worried you so you would sneak into the part of the palace where she was kept without telling your father and you begged her to eat and helped her eat when she needed it before sneaking back to your own rooms. After breakfast, there were a few hours of just sitting there and doing nothing. Tigress was always watching you when you were with Kaldur’ahm, but she was not talkative in the slightest, even scowling at you when you tried to strike up a conversation with her, so you laid off talking with her. Normally, you would end up falling asleep by Kaldur’ahm’s bedside, slouching in your chair, your head falling to lie on the edge of the bed, and your hand resting on top of Kaldur’ahm’s unmoving hand. You would then wake up, feed him lunch, eat your own lunch, then either stare at a wall or fall asleep again before you had to feed him dinner and you would be escorted back to your room where you would eat dinner before getting ready for bed, finally you would fall asleep and the day would start all over again.

You were sitting on your bed in your room, you had just gotten ready for bed, and you were counting the bolts in the metal, keeping the structure together even if you already knew the number, three hundred and twenty-seven; you were truly just that bored out of your mind now. Just as you were about to lie down to fall into your dreams and fall asleep, the thick metal door swung open, and in stepped Tigress. She closed the door behind her and stepped up to your bedside, Tigress had a book in her hand that she was reaching out to give you, A Collection of the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

“You’ve been taking care of Kaldur, think of this as a reward for your good behavior.” She spoke to you as you took the book from her hands, looking over the hard back book in your hands, it was a very pretty copy and you did not get to read many books in Atlantis since most would get destroyed by the water expect for the books your mother had in her air logged rooms. “I think you’ll like The Valley of Fear the best, it starts on page two hundred and fifty-five.”

“Thank you, I-” You began speaking a few moments after her. You had thought she was as stone-cold as they came, but clearly she was thankful enough for you helping Kaldur’ahm, even if it was against your will, that she gave you this. Your words paused as you turned to the page she told you. There was a small bookmark-sized note, folded and slipped between the pages, something that was not meant to be said out loud between her and you. You glance down at the note, keeping it close to the page as for no one else to see.

We can’t speak freely, but I am your friend and Kaldur’ahm is no traitor to Atlantis, trust me and trust in him.

Tigress spoke nothing to you as you read over the note, just standing over you, her eyes watching your every move as you closed the book and set back upon your lap as you forced a smile at her, not quite sure if she was captor or friend, ally or enemy. “Thank you, Tigress.”

“Yes, of course…” Her words trailed off as she spoke, her head glancing in the direction of the mirror over the skin in your small room as if she was seeing something completely different in her own reflection than you were, but her eyes quickly snapped back to you, gazing down at you as if you were just but a minnow surrounded by predators of the waters. “Black Manta would like me to inform you as well that we have successfully secured the Martian who forced Kaldur’ahm into his current state in order for her to repair his mind in exchange for her meaningless life.”

“Alright… but what does this have to do with what I am supposed to do-“

“Black Manta would like to have you moved to his son’s quarters so you may be able to monitor his recovery process first hand.” You felt your mouth grow dry at that statement, so far you have been after to feel some sort of comfort knowing that you had some personal space, but now you were being forced into a situation where you would be constantly watched. “You will stay in his quarters with him starting in the morning and sleep beside him as well as your presence with him may give him some ground to himself as his mind is repaired. You understand, yes?”

“I… I do.”

“Very well, I will see you in the morning.”

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puari-vol · 5 months ago

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Sleepyhead

CW: Hypnosis, Noncon, Drugging, Kidnapping

My bleary eyes opened slowly as I drifted up from a gentle sleep. The bed was oh so warm and soft beneath me and my dreams were calling me back into their embrace. But as much as I wanted to just snuggle into the warmth and let my eyes slip closed, I couldn’t help but notice I wasn’t in my bed, and wasn’t in my room. All I could see was a deep pink color and for a while my tired mind simply could not comprehend this endless pink world I found myself in. Finally I blinked the sleepiness from my eyes and realized that I had not in fact been transported to a gentle pink reality that simply went on forever and ever in every direction, but that the bed had a pink canopy that hid the rest of the room. But where was I? The question should have been more alarming, but my mind felt foggy and slow, and the bed was just so cozy and comfortable…even thinking about how nice the bed felt was caused me to sigh and relax, my eyes fluttering shut just for a moment…then another…then another…

No. I forced my eyes open once more, it was time to get up. I pushed the soft warm blanket off of me and gasped as a freezing sensation fell across my body. Even as I scrambled to pull the blanket back I began to feel numb from the cold. The moment it was over me again, the cold receded and was replaced by such a lovely warm glow. I let out a soft moan as my body relaxed back into the bed, heavy eyes fluttering shut once more. It was unbearable, unthinkable to leave this lovely feeling behind. And yet something felt wrong, something I couldn't quite place…where am I? My muddled mind tried to work through the question but it kept drifting off as sleep threatened to take me. I scooted about under the blanket, unable or unwilling to leave its comforting embrace again. At the edge of the bed I stuck a hand out to push aside the pink curtain and found...a pink room. Or perhaps not, I saw a lamp that seemed to bathe the room in a gentle pink light. The room seemed ordinary enough, but I still didn’t recognize it. I felt an uneasy feeling in my gut that my drowsy mind couldn’t ignore, I had woken up in a strange place…and I had no idea how. I steeled myself and with the blanket still wrapped tightly around me, let one foot dangle over the side of the bed. When it touched the floor it felt like stepping onto a sheet of ice, I quickly retreated the probing foot back into the safety of the blanket. I curled up into a ball, and I wanted nothing more than to just lay my head back into the soft pillows and let everything drift away... But no, I had to do something. That worried feeling in my gut was stronger now, as though I was running out of time. Wrapping the blanket around me like a cloak, I pulled myself off of the bed and cried out as my feet touched the floor again. The rest of my body was safe and warm in the blanket, but I felt an unbearable icy numbness in my feet. It took all of my willpower not to simply leap back into the bed again. I stumbled away, and nearly fell into a full length mirror. I caught a glimpse of myself, I looked so silly wrapped up in the blanket, my hair was a mess and my eyes looked so heavy and tired. I knew I should try to leave, but I just felt so sleepy right now…maybe I could lie down for a bit and then leave? That seems like a good idea…I shook my head vigorously, trying to chase the drowsiness away. I knew there wasn’t time for that, I had to leave before…before…something. I made my way to the door. But while I was preparing myself to reach a hand out to open it, I heard a sound from the other side. I froze and listened…had that been a different door? Opening and closing…now there were footsteps, they got louder and louder until suddenly the door knob was turning, the door was opening. I was momentarily blinded by the bright daylight that came in, I covered my face with the blanket…then slowly lowered it and looked up.

Standing before me was a tall woman with long dark hair dressed in casual clothes. She looked down at me, eyes tracing me for a moment, then she smiled

“Why hello there darling, how are you feeling?”

Her voice made me feel warm and soft, my fuzzy brain slowly pondered its way to an answer

“I feel…sleepy…”

She giggled, stepped into the room, then shut the door behind her. I let out an involuntary sigh of relief as the light dimmed again.

“If you’re so sleepy, why’d you get out of bed silly?”

It was a good question and while I was considering it, she reached out and pulled the blanket down off of me. I braced myself in anticipation of the unbearable freezing cold…but I felt nothing of the sort. In fact the moment she touched me to take me by the arm, everything from the top of my head to the tips of my toes felt warm and comfortable again. It felt especially nice where her hand gently held my arm, and I found myself leaning into her as she led me back across the room. She stopped to toss the blanket back onto the bed, and I got another good look at myself in the mirror. I noticed I was wearing nothing but a long pink nightgown. But it wasn’t mine…not my bed, not my room, not my clothes…I was so confused. She led me to a small table and sat me down. The warm feeling remained when she let go and sat across from me, the table already had two tea cups set out and she poured something into both of them. Then she stirred something into one the cups before pushing it over to me

“Drink up sleepyhead”

I did, the drink was sweet, I quickly finished the cup while she just watched me smiling. When I was done I set the cup down and a sudden question came to my lips

“Who are you?”

Her smile widened into a grin and she reached across the table to tuck my hair behind my ear

“It’s so lovely that you don’t remember…we’re making so much progress!”

She gave a light laugh and slid her thumb down my cheek

“It’s so cute that you couldn't get rid of the blanket…and you barely made it far at all this time! I was over an hour late and you still didn’t make it out of the room. Absolutely adorable"

I blinked slowly, feeling more confused than ever

“This time?”

“That’s right dear, the last time you made it to the living room, and the time before that I found you in the foyer! Its so funny that you don’t remember at all”

As she spoke I felt things coming back to me. This wasn’t my room…not my home…it was hers. She had taken me here…and she was…she was…who was she?

My eyes were drawn to a logo on the vest she was wearing. It was familiar…suddenly I knew it was the logo of the restaurant that I worked at…the restaurant we worked at…she was my coworker! Icy fear gripped me as my memories slowly returned she cocked her head as if sensing the change

“Oh? Something coming back now darling?”

I leaned away from her, terror filled me and dispelled the last of the drowsiness.

“You…you took me! What…why? Why did you do this to me?”

Her eyes seemed sad for just a moment

“Why? You were just so tired all the time darling, that’s why. Everyday we’d chat in the break room and you’d tell me how exhausted you were with work and life and all that nonsense…so I decided to save you. You don’t have to worry about any of that anymore, no more stress, no more problems. Just my precious sleepy princess, from now on”

I was shaking my head

“But…but what if I don’t want that!?”

Her grin returned

“That’s the best part…it's not up to you anymore. Nothing is. Isn’t that lovely? Now tell me dear, since your memories are coming back…can you recall exactly how I first took you?”

The memories were flooding back even as she spoke them, it had been a long day and I was exhausted. We were getting ready to go home and she offered me something to drink… and then...

I looked down at the empty tea cup and then back up at her. She just smiled.

I tried to stand but found my hands were too numb to grip the chair. then it started It spreading up my arms. I tried to move but my legs didn’t respond, I would have toppled out of my chair if she hadn’t reached out to keep me upright. Soon the numbness spread up to my neck and head and I was completely paralyzed, propped up in the chair only by her gentle grip on my arm.

“I’m sorry darling, but I’m feeling confident that this is the last time I’ll have to use that on you”

She was still smiling, she reached up to her neck to pull at a chain, and took off the necklace she was wearing

“Now that you seem to be remembering things, let me ask you, do you remember your new favorite color?”

She lifted her closed fist over the table between us. A teardrop shaped gemstone fell from her hand and dangled in front of me. It was a pretty pink stone, and it sparked in the light as it swayed gently from side to side. I found my eyes instantly locking on to it.

“Hmm it seems to you do remember…just let yourself melt for me now darling”

Even as I tried to resist I could feel it, the pink stone filling up more and more of my mind as all my fear and anxiety was pushed out. That familiar warm sleepy feeling was filling me up again...

“Shhh just like that, so easy for you now. So effortlessly you slip right back down. I know you just want to go back to bed where you belong, but first we have to do a little more work on that sleepy head of yours. Just let all those pesky thoughts slip away again…”

I remembered how lovely it felt just to listen to her, how to just take in her words and internalize them without thinking about them at all.

“Such a good sleepy girl, deeper and deeper let those gentle clouds fill your mind as you listen and obey. You are mine. You are a precious princess who wants nothing more than to doze and dream so prettily in your bed. It feels oh so soft and warm to obey, and so cold and hard when you don't. It's just easier to obey isn't it sweetie? that's right everything will feel wonderful as long as you just listen and obey. Soon I’m going to put you back to bed, and its going to feel so wonderful darling, that you'll never want to leave. And when you drift off to sleep again, you’ll forget everything for good this time. Your past, your name, who you are. it will all be gone for good, all you'll remember is me, this room, and how lovely it feels to be my precious sleepy princess”

She put the necklace back on, and pulled me to my feet. I dimly realized that the drug had already worn off. I thought about doing something, about running for the door. She led me back to the bedside and I prepared to make my move, I would shove her back, and run for it. It was my only chance…I had to-

She gave me a gentle push, I leaned forward, my hand resting on the bed. Suddenly the room seemed unbearably cold, and I was so so tired. Before I knew what I was doing I was on the bed pulling the blanket over me again. Whatever my plan had been I could try it later...it would never work when I was all sleepy like this anyway, I needed to rest first…it was just so warm and comfortable here. As my body sank into the mattress I felt oh so drowsy. I barely noticed the shifting beside me. I noticed she had undressed and gotten under the blanket with me. After a gentle kiss on the forehead she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me gently. I thought back to when I had first woken up, that feeling that something was wrong…now I knew what it was. I had been alone. I nuzzled into her neck, and drifted off to sleep

#hypnostory #hypnosis #hypnok1nk #brainwashing #had the idea for this when I woke up one morning and it was so cold I was almost late for work because I didn't want to get up XD #a sleepy princess shouldn't have to work lol

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