#having said all that i had to lie down in a dark room for an hour after watching the episode

[notlongtolove]

between the sand and the stardust

burnt toast theory. the butterfly effect. invisible strings. it’s only human nature to try and make sense of the senseless. for all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, the alternate paths and lives you could’ve lived, this is the reality you’re in. you know—effects, theories, strings be damned—that you would’ve found each other.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: reader is up contemplating what life would be like if her and spencer had never met. spencer has a few reassuring things to say about it.

word count: 1.8k

note: inspired by this! spent the entire day nursing the post nye hangover and woke up in a haze to write this. god me whennnn

a line: I’d pray to every god out there, in every language I don’t speak, to find you in every universe where I haven’t found you yet.

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.

- lang leav

The world has a funny way of looking at things. A knack for folding coincidences into neat little narratives that we, its ever-curious observers, insist on unspooling. Burnt toast theory. The butterfly effect. Invisible strings. It’s only human nature, you suppose, to try and make sense of the senseless. Things happen—things that are just things—and yet, we stitch them together into stories, pull meaning from the chaos, weave threads where there might not be any at all. 

It didn’t make sense that you’d been eleven minutes late to the bus that morning, despite sprinting down the stairs with your laces undone. It didn’t make sense that Spencer’s train had broken down that day when the transit service proudly boasted a 92% on-time rate. It didn’t make sense that the last bus had rumbled away two minutes before you arrived, leaving you stranded at the stop with a dark-eyed boy and an easy smile. 

And it certainly didn’t make sense when you, who always preferred to keep your headphones in and your gaze down, had turned to him in pure desperation and said, “Do you want to split a cab?”

Now, 845 days, 21 hours, and 23 minutes later—Spencer keeps count, of course—you lie in bed, his arms wrapped around you with such love you almost can’t remember what it felt like to navigate the world without him.

You think about that morning sometimes. Would it have mattered if you’d woken up on time? If Spencer’s train hadn’t broken down? You would’ve slipped past each other like all strangers are meant to. You could have missed him entirely. The very thought makes your chest tighten.

And then there’s everything that came after. Maybe you’d still be grinding away at that dead-end job if Spencer hadn’t nudged you—no, shoved you—into applying for that writing scholarship. Maybe he wouldn’t taken some time off to go into teaching if he hadn’t seen how much it broke you when he was shot last year, your sobs echoing in the sterile hospital waiting room.

It’s terrifying to think about. How this moment, this minute, your life is just a single dot in a universe of shifting constellations. One singular version of a story that could have unfolded a million other ways.

You shift slightly, feeling the soft brush of Spencer’s breath against your neck. His arm tightens instinctively, pulling you closer, like even in sleep, he’s afraid to let you drift too far.

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” he murmurs.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” he says softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, a silent reassurance. “Tell me.” 

You shift, rolling onto your side to face him. The room is dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlight outside, but you can still make out the soft angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the shadow of his lashes against his cheek. His arm lifts briefly, giving you room to move, before settling back on your waist.

“Just...” You sigh, the words heavy as you trace invisible patterns on the blanket. ​​​​“How we met.”

“Mm,” Spencer hums thoughtfully. “Dingy bus stop. Very romantic.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, I mean... imagine if I hadn’t woken up late that morning. Or if you’d been on the train that didn’t break down. Isn’t that scary?”

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. “What’s scary, baby?” he asks, his fingers drawing idle patterns on your hip.

You hesitate for a moment, then exhale. “Like… there’s a universe where we never met,” you say, your voice quieter now. “We’d be living our own lives. Separate. Strangers.” The words send a shudder through you. 

Spencer doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful as he studies you. “That’d be a really sad life,” he says finally. 

You hum in agreement. “Imagine it. Nobody to sort your shelves for you. They’d be an absolute mess.”

“No one to bring you tea in bed every morning. Tragic.”

“No Mugi,” you add, your gaze flicking toward the end of the bed where the cat lies curled in a ball. The mention of his name earns a soft purr from him, a sound of sleepy approval.

“To be fair,” Spencer muses, “there probably would still be a Mugi. He’d just still be at the shelter, waiting for some mediocre parents to find him.”

“Yeah, probably parents who don’t spoil him rotten with treats every time he asks.”

Spencer chuckles, glancing toward the cat. “Let’s be honest, sweetheart. You’re the one who can’t say no to that face.” 

As if on cue, Mugi stretches languidly, front paws extending before he hops off the bed with a dramatic flick of his tail. He pads off into the other room, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet.

“See?” you sigh, your voice softer now. “Everything would be different. No tea. No Mugi. No you.” 

Spencer’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer until your forehead brushes his. “But things aren’t different,” he says simply.

“I know, I know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I... I don’t know. It’s so scary Spence. I just—”

“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again,” he interrupts, his voice calm and steady. “Know where that’s from sweetheart?” 

You pull back slightly. “The Iliad,” you murmur. 

“Smart girl,” he grins, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. “It's true,” he agrees. “A lot of things could be different. You could’ve been on time for the bus. My train might not have broken down. We might’ve never crossed paths.” His hand moves from your hair to your face, cupping your cheek. “You could’ve married your high school boyfriend if that asshole hadn’t cheated on you.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groan, wrinkling your nose.

“And I,” he continues, his voice softening, “could’ve stayed in Vegas, never left, never thought there was anything more for me.”

You look away as you imagine these horribly bleak and sad alternate realities. Sure, it was hell catching your first love in the locker room with another girl but with the certainty you feel for Spencer now, it’s hard to feel anything other than grateful for everything that led you here. You think back to Spencer as a child—alone, hurting, and relentlessly bullied. Your heart twinges with the thought of the pain he’d endured. 

“But I didn’t,” he says, breaking the silence. He takes your hand, his fingers threading through yours as if he understands exactly what you’re thinking. “I’m here. You’re here. And so is Mugi, who is probably tearing apart the couch as we speak.” 

A soft laugh escapes you, though it’s shaky, and you squeeze his hand. Your chest tightens with something that feels an awful lot like gratitude.

“You know,” he says after a pause, his voice softer now, “I thank god every day that my train broke down.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe in god.”

“I don’t,” he admits with a small smile, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “But I’d pray to every god out there, in every language I don’t speak, to find you in every universe where I haven’t found you yet.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “Spence…” you manage, though his name barely makes it past the lump in your throat. 

“I mean it,” he says again. “I pray that every version of me deserves to know you in every possible world. To have this. I’d find you, no matter how many lives it took. Because finding you was the hard part. But loving you? That’s second nature.”

Your chest aches. It’s a wonderful kind of pain, as if your heart is trying to expand but can’t quite manage it—too happy, too loved.

“I think I’d find you too,” you say softly, the words tumbling out.

“Think?” Spencer repeats, mock affront in his tone. “I pour my heart out, and all I get is a think?”

You giggle as you halfheartedly swat at his chest. “You know what I mean.”

His hand catches yours, holding it over his heart, his fingers warm against yours. Before you can say more, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips—deep and unhurried. It lingers, pulling you closer, tinged with love and longing. 

When you finally pull apart, your forehead resting against his, you breathe out, “I love you.”

A soft smile spreads across his face, and he whispers, “I love you too, sweet girl.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you. “I think what we have… this… it’s more than fate, y’know?”

“Destiny?”

You shake your head, a small smile on your face.

“Oh, I’ve got it. Prophecy,” he teases.

You laugh, light and easy. “No, not that either.”

He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for your explanation.

“It’s like… it’s inevitable,” you say finally, searching for the right words. “You and me. No matter what. No matter where or when. It’s just… always supposed to happen. Even if fate didn’t allow it, even if destiny didn’t write it. I’d find you. I know I would.”

Spencer’s gaze softens. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the universe—To Spencer, you might as well be. It’s a gaze so tender it makes your chest ache all over again. 

“You’re everything,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Technically, you have me to thank,” you say playfully. “I asked to share a cab.”

“And how’d you know I wouldn’t have just asked for your number?”

You catch each other's gaze for a moment and burst into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Spencer concedes with a small smile. “I probably would’ve been a mess trying, but for the record, I really did want to ask.”

“Oh I’m sure, honey,” you tease, shifting closer to him.

“Let’s stop worrying about alternate realities and come back to this one yeah? It’s pretty damn good.”

You know Spencer’s right. For all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, the alternate paths and lives you could’ve lived, this is the reality you’re in. The one where he’s here, and so are you. You know, without a doubt now—effects, theories, strings be damned—that you would’ve found each other. 

It’s a certainty that transcends time and space, a quiet knowing that runs deep in your bones. No matter the paths you might have walked, no matter the lives you could have lived, it doesn’t matter. You share a love that demands to be seen and to be heard—An undeniable, inevitable reality. The best kind of love. 

It’s a love that insists on its own existence. 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: invisible string by taylor swift (bc how could i not) margaret by lana del rey feat bleachers

[virtualchiyu]

Wildfire ꩜ .ᐟ

Pairings: jungwon x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

warnings: vaginal (p. in v.), oral (f. rec.), porn

The café hummed with low chatter and the clinking of coffee cups against saucers. It was your usual spot for winding down after a long day, and tonight was no different—until you felt the familiar presence of someone sliding into the chair across from you.

“Late night?” Jungwon’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, soft but laced with that playful tone that always made you glance up.

“Something like that,” you replied, setting your mug down. His smile made your stomach flip, the kind that lingered too long, like he knew what he was doing to you.

You had met Jungwon through mutual friends, and it didn’t take long for the two of you to develop a rhythm—a steady pull that felt dangerous and electric. What began as casual teasing had grown into something else, an unspoken tension that followed every stolen glance and every lingering touch.

Tonight, he looked especially good in a plain black hoodie that stretched over his toned frame. His dark eyes were sharp, but there was an almost lazy confidence in the way he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said suddenly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’ve been busy,” you answered, though even you didn’t believe it.

Jungwon’s lips twitched as if he could see right through your lie. “Busy doing what? Thinking about me?”

Your breath hitched, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “You wish.”

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t have to wish. I know.”

The air between you felt heavier now, the warmth of the café dimming as his gaze pinned you in place. You weren’t sure how he always managed to do this—make you feel like the only person in the room, like he was unraveling every one of your defenses without even trying.

“Come with me,” he said, standing abruptly. “Where?” “Does it matter?”

Your pulse quickened as you stared up at him, his outstretched hand tempting you in ways you couldn’t resist. Against your better judgment, you slipped your hand into his, letting him lead you out into the crisp night air.

The walk to his apartment was silent, but the tension crackled like wildfire. By the time the door clicked shut behind you, your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Jungwon turned to face you, stepping closer until you were backed against the wall. He didn’t say anything at first, his dark eyes scanning your face like he was committing every detail to memory.

“Do you want this?” he asked finally, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

That was all the confirmation he needed. His lips crashed against yours, and the world around you dissolved. His kiss was urgent, claiming, his hands gripping your waist like he couldn’t get enough. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as your body ignited under his touch.

Jungwon groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending heat straight to your core. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands slid under your shirt, his fingers skimming over your bare skin.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, gasping as his lips moved to your neck, kissing and biting in a way that left you trembling.

He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Bedroom,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You barely made it to his bed before he was on you again, his hands and lips everywhere at once. He stripped away your clothes with practiced ease, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his eyes roamed over your bare body.

Heat flooded your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to respond before his lips were on you again, this time trailing down your body. He kissed his way down your chest, taking his time to worship every inch of you, his hands firm yet gentle as they held you in place.

By the time his lips reached the apex of your thighs, you were already a trembling mess, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands soothing against your hips. “Let me take care of you.”

You barely had time to process his words before his tongue flicked against your clit, drawing a broken moan from your lips. He worked you expertly, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as your body arched into him.

“Jungwon—” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pushed you closer to the edge.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through you. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up for a second until you were shattering beneath him, your cries echoing through the room as you came undone.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips swollen and glistening as he hovered over you. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice low and full of satisfaction.

You pulled him down for a kiss, the taste of yourself on his lips only fueling your desire. Your hands slipped under his hoodie, pushing it up and over his head before fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, though his breath hitched as you slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his length.

“I could say the same about you,” you shot back, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his head fell back and a groan escaped his lips.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice strained as he grabbed your wrist, stilling your movements. “I don’t want to rush this.”

He guided you onto your back, his lips finding yours once more as he positioned himself between your thighs. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I want you.”

Jungwon didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed into you slowly, the stretch leaving you gasping as he filled you completely. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead resting against yours.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of awe as he began to move, his pace slow and deliberate.

Jungwon’s movements were slow at first, deliberate, his hips rolling into yours with a precision that made your toes curl. The intimacy of it all—the way his forehead rested against yours, how his hands framed your face so tenderly—was almost overwhelming.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice breathy and raw, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

Your hands clung to his back, nails dragging down his skin as he began to quicken his pace. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the sounds spilling from your lips only seemed to spur him on.

“Jungwon,” you gasped, the friction building into something unstoppable. “Faster—please.”

He groaned softly, adjusting his angle, and when his hips snapped forward again, a loud moan tore from your throat. He had found it—that perfect spot that made your mind go blank. He focused on it with laser-like precision, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

“You’re so good for me,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he watched your face twist in pleasure. “So perfect.”

Your hands slid down to his hips, urging him closer, deeper. “Don’t stop,” you begged, and the desperation in your voice made his lips twitch into a smug smile.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, “I’m not stopping until I’ve ruined you.”

His words were a promise, and he kept it. His thrusts became harder, more erratic, and the sound of skin against skin filled the room. His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit and circling it in time with his movements.

The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you and the pressure against your clit had you spiraling. Your body arched off the bed as the pleasure overwhelmed you, your walls clenching around him.

“Fuck—just like that,” Jungwon groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he felt you tighten around him. “Let go for me, baby.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and your release crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, and your entire body trembled as you cried out his name, the pleasure so intense it left you breathless.

Jungwon didn’t stop, riding out your high as his own release approached. His thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he buried himself inside you one final time, groaning as he found his own end. The warmth of him filling you made your toes curl, and the way he collapsed against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, only added to the intimacy of the moment.

For a while, the only sound in the room was your combined breathing, heavy and uneven as you both tried to come down from the high.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice soft as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

Jungwon chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling out of you carefully. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm washcloth to clean you up. The tenderness of the gesture made your chest ache in the best way.

Once he was finished, he slid back into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he teased, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Me?” you laughed softly, looking up at him. “You’re the one who dragged me out of a café and then ruined me.”

Jungwon smirked, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “I did say I wouldn’t stop until I ruined you.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile on your face betrayed your amusement. “Guess I should’ve believed you.”

His laugh was soft, and he leaned down to kiss you again—this time slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled away, his eyes softened as they locked with yours.

“Stay,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

You didn’t need to think twice. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go, you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

[kdyq]

Noxian legacy

Part three of my mini series

context You and Ambessa share heartfelt moments all while preparing for the arrival of your child.

The sun cast a soft golden glow across the estate as you stood in the entry hall adjusting the buttons of your coat. Ambessa appeared from her study, already dressed in her sharp dark attire. Her golden eyes softened as they landed on you.

“Are you ready?” she asked her deep voice steady but also nervous.

You nodded smiling despite the fluttering in your stomach. “Are you?”

Ambessa gave a low chuckle stepping closer to rest her large hand on your back. “I’ve fought wars and faced councils but this…” She trailed off shaking her head as a rare small smile tugged at her lips. “This is entirely new.”

The two of you set off for the Hextech facility the journey unusually quiet. Ambessa held your hand the entire way with her grip firmly. When you arrived a staff member greeted you and led you into a private room with advanced equipment.

The healer an older woman with kind eyes gestured for you to lie down on the cushioned table. Ambessa lingered close her arms crossed but her gaze never leaving the healer’s hands as she watched the healer prepare the instruments.

“This might feel a little cold” the healer said spreading a clear gel across your abdomen.

You flinched slightly at the cool sensation and Ambessa immediately leaned closer her brows knitting together. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” you reassured her placing your hand over hers.

The healer adjusted the monitor and pressed the wand against your skin. For a moment the room was silent except for the faint hum of the machine. Then the screen flickered to life displaying a small flickering shape.

“There it is” the healer said softly angling the screen so you and Ambessa could see.

You turned to look at Ambessa expecting her usual composed demeanor. Instead her eyes were fixed on the screen wide with wonder. Her hand tightened around yours as she leaned in closer her breath catching.

“That’s…” She paused her voice steady but creaking. “That’s our child.”

Tears fall from your eyes as you nodded. “Yeah. That’s them.”

For a moment the world seemed to stop. Ambessa’s usually stoic expression melted away replaced by raw emotion. Her free hand reached out hesitantly as if she could touch the tiny life on the screen.

“Strong heartbeat” the healer noted pointing to the rhythmic pulse on the monitor.

Ambessa’s lips parted and a rare tear glistened in the corner of her eye. She quickly blinked it away but you caught it your heart swelling at the sight.

“Do you want a picture to take home?” the healer asked breaking the spell.

Ambessa straightened clearing her throat. “Yes. Definitely.”

After the appointment Ambessa suggested stopping by Mel’s residence for a quiet dinner she had arranged in your honor. To your surprise Mel greeted you warmly her usual sharp demeanor softened.

“Halfway there” Mel said with a small smile raising a glass in your honor.

The dinner was intimate with Mel Ambessa and you sharing stories laughter and heartfelt toasts. Despite their differences you could see a subtle warmth between Mel and her mother a rare connection fostered by the new life growing within you.

“You’ll make a fine parent” Mel said at one point surprising Ambessa with her sincerity. “And I’ll make a fine aunt.”

Ambessa’s chest swelled with pride and she pulled you closer. “You’ll have to fight me to be the child’s favorite” she teased her protective tone softening the moment.

The evening ended with quiet laughter and a sense of unity you hadn’t expected filling you with hope for the future.

When you returned to the estate Ambessa led you to a secluded part of the grounds where a vibrant garden awaited. “I had this prepared for you” she said gesturing to the cozy benches the flowering trees and the gentle stream running through the space.

“For me?” you asked touched.

“For you” she confirmed “and for the moments you need peace. I know this journey won’t always be easy but you’ll have this our sanctuary.”

You gazed at her overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness and smiled. “I love it. And I love you.”

Ambessa pulled you into her arms her embrace warm and steady. “I love you too” she murmured. “And I will love our child with everything I have.”

Later that evening as you prepared for bed Ambessa emerged from her study carrying a small ornately carved box. She set it gently on the table beside you and opened it revealing a shimmering necklace adorned with an intricate Noxian insignia.

“This” she began her voice deep and stern“is a piece of my family’s legacy. In Noxus it’s tradition to pass this down to the next generation.”

You stared at the necklace its craftsmanship stunning and looked up at her. “You’re giving this to me?”

Ambessa nodded. “It’s for our child but until they’re born I want you to keep it close. As a promise. A bond.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached for the necklace. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Ambessa stepped closer her hands cupping your face. “You are the one who brought light into my life. And now you’ve given me something I never thought I’d have a future worth fighting for.”

You kissed her deeply feeling the weight of her words and the strength of your love.

As the rain began to patter softly against the windows you curled up together in bed the necklace resting on your chest and Ambessa’s arms securely around you. For the first time in her life she allowed herself to imagine a future filled with love family and peace.

“THE END”

AN/

This series is so fun and it makes me happy that yall are exactly liking my stories. I genuinely made this page just strictly for me to post stories that I have made up or stories that I have seen and wondered how it would be if it was in a different character but I never knew it would blow up like this thank you all so much fr and happy new year!!!!

[anon-e-miss]

Storm's End - 2

“Ack,” Jazz rubbed his shoulder where he had bumped it against the post.

Maybe fragging the innkeepers’ creation had not been the smartest impulses he had ever followed, Jazz had no regrets and he hoped he had left the sensual Prowl with none either. If the opportunity arose, Jazz had no doubts that he would think with the same processor and jump into bush or berth with the provocative beauty. He bumped into the door frame as he slipped, or tried to slip quietly back into the room he was sharing with his twin. Just thinking about Prowl had him losing his composure. Ricochet lifted his helm, his ennui broken enough to allow a frown. Jazz shut the door, quietly behind him. It was likely Ori had heard him go out and come back. Punch would wait for light-cycle to pry. Rico through off his blanket, frown morphing into a sneer. Even angered, his shoulders were slumped. Where the frag was his pride? What had Lockdown done to him?

“Ori will scrap ya if ya went ‘n got drunk at the pub,” Ricochet warned him. “‘N I won’t save ya from’m.”

“Ain’t drunk,” Jazz defended himself. “Just went for a look ‘round. Cold got to me more than I thought it would.”

“Cold?” Ricochet sounded dubious, and that was fair. It was not a great lie.

“Cold as Mortilus’ teat when the rain’s comin’ sideways,” Jazz said. Ricochet shrugged.

“Shower then,” he said. “If you come down with the sniffles Ori’ll give ya Pit. “He’s in a snit ‘bout this place as is.”

“Ori’s ‘bout the only spark I can think o’ that’d get in knots seein’ a turn ‘round like this,” Jazz declared.

“Ya know how Ori feels ‘bout surprises,” Ricochet replied.

Jazz showered, though the rain had washed all evidence of his nocturnal activities from his frame. To a degree it was to warm himself, because the rains were cold, but it was more to maintain his meagre cover. It should not have been enough to satisfy Rico but Jazz thought the root of all of it was that Rico just did not care what Jazz had been up to. They should have left him home and Jazz would tell Geni as much when they made their first delivery. Rico was a liability, not just to himself but to all three of them. What would happen if Lockdown or some goon like him turned up? What would happen if one of Straxus’ enforcers came, warrant for Ori in servo? Would he have the fight in him or would he just sit back? If they came at him, would he even fight back? Jazz had asked his twin over and over what was wrong, what had happened but all Rico had ever said was nothing and so there was nothing Jazz could do to help him. Feeling helpless made him angry and of course, that was of no help.

Rico may well have been feigning recharge when Jazz returned from his shower. It did not matter since Jazz did not have the glyphs, did not have the slightly idea how to reach him. He had been trying for vorns, so, so many vorns. That was at least in part the reason for his restlessness. Mostly, Rico kept aloof from them these cycles and Jazz did not often have to live shoulder to shoulder with the shadow of his twin. The respite with Prowl had been a blessing. Jazz was physically spent and it was enough to let him crawl into his rented berth and to dial down into recharge. In the light-cycle, they would look at getting some answers about the goings on of Damaxus. There would be no answers for the goings on of Ricochet’s processor.

“It’s a fierce storm,” Punch observed as they stood under the overhang. The clouds were so dark, it was hard to even tell it was light-cycle. “Any boat out in this is in for a fight.”

“Seen a few like this growin’ up?” Jazz asked.

“More than a few,” Punch said, “on both sides of the sea. Lots o’ funerals wit no frame to mourn.”

“I never noticed the sky so red in Polyhex,” Jazz noted, “as it was yester-cycle. Didn’t hear talk ‘bout stayin’ in port ‘cept for the ferry.”

“Maybe a volcano?” Punch thought out loud. “Some sort o’ magnetic energy that changes the sky in these parts. There’s a reason for it. There always is.”

“Maybe we outta see what’s cookin’,” Jazz suggested. He looked to his twin, who was staring out into the storm, brooding in silence. Ori’s jaw tensed and then, whatever it was he was thinking, he shook off and he wrapped his arm around Rico’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he said.

Despite the weather, the pub was full, or perhaps the weather was even to blame. A group of sailors surrounded a piano and they played a jaunty tune. As he had been during the dark-cycle, Downshift was manning the pub. It was so full, over full even, that Prowl appeared to be helping him with the loud. Jazz realized he had to act like they had ever met. Certainly he could not ogle the mech while his progenitor watched on, that seemed like a good way to die. Even if Jazz thought he stood a fair chance against the mech, since fair was not how he fought, the saboteur figured there was not a mechanism in this room that would not back the innkeeper up and those were not odds he wanted to test. As group of diners waved them over as they were vacating their table. Even as they sat, Prowl appeared with mugs of steaming energon.

“We have tisane as well,” he declared. “I am Prowl. Progenitor has energon pockets with cinnabar sauce and opal soup with steamed talc on the menu this light-cycle.”

“Thank ya,” Punch said as Jazz was momentarily glossa-tied. “I would appreciate ruby tea if ya have it.”

“We do,” Prowl replied. “I will bring it right out.”

“I wonder if that’s the mechling’s originator,” Punch wondered out loud. “He’s certainly a proper young mech.”

“Mm,” Ricochet replied.

“Maybe,” Jazz replied. The mechling in question dipped into the pub just long enough to wave to his grandgeni before he ran off, to school most likely. He did not know why but Jazz could not quite believe Prowl was the originator to the mechling. Why though, he could not say.

“Thank ya,” Punch thanked Prowl for the tea as the Praxian set a mug down. “Have ya been here long?”

“We have had the inn here for twenty vorns last saltus,” he replied.

“It’s a lovely place,” Punch declared. His mood had certainly improved with recharge, and probably a great bit of plotting. “We didn’t catch the designation when we checked in.”

“Storm’s End,” Prowl replied. “A storm washed us in and my originator has an interesting sense of humour.”

Rico actually ordered an energon pocket for himself without any prodding. Jazz and Punch both ordered the soup. They ate mostly in silence, as close to companionable as they had for some time. All around them, their fellow diners chatted. Listening was the fuelled was the easiest way to gather some intel. Jazz listened as some sailors spoke up pirates in the area, ahead of the storm, and the hopes that they will have cleared out before the skies did. Though Damaxus had once with a pirate harbour, times had changed. It seemed, after their port had been destroyed by the last big hurricane, they had not bothered to rebuild and even though the locals had, they had not tried to comeback and reclaim their own turf. Why? The islanders, a mixture of the descendants of Prima’s tribe from before the Age of the Thirteen Primes and Polyhexian and Urayan sailors and fishermecha, did not look like they would be able to put up much of a fight. No one whispered of any fear from pirates or poachers in this harbour. Why? Had Lockdown and Cannonball lost their touch that badly?

“I think I’d like to see just what spooked Swerve,” Punch declared, after they left the pub.

“I was thinkin’ the same,” Jazz said.

Swerve’s place was on the other side of Damaxus. They drove past an orchard as they drove east, with crystal trees and vines. Though the crops were dormant now, they looked to be in healthy, as far as Jazz could tell. It was from this side of the island Damaxus shipping trade largely operated. The Polyhexian bartender’s patrons were a mix of sailors and labourers. It was around lunch time and most of them were on a break from work. The east side of the island seemed to be prospering as much as the west and though there were warehouses and trade offices, it had not be taken over by big business. Most of the businesses around the bar were island owned. That in and of itself was a miracle to Jazz. What businesses even survived in Damaxus would owned by Straxus’ cronies. What little prosperity existed was for them alone.

“Hello Swerve,” Punch greeted the bartender.

“Punch!” Swerve exclaimed, visibly startled though he was trying to hide it. He looked around with little jerking movements of his helm and saw Jazz and Rico with him. “My mechs... It’s been... a while.”

“We were just in the area,” Punch said. “Stayin’ at the inn... heard ya had some trouble wit the innkeepers?”

“No... no trouble,” Swerve replied, shaking his helm.

“Really?” Punch asked. “Because I heard they caught you sniffin’ round their cellar,” Punch replied. “I heard ya ran scared. Just what did a couple of prim Praxians do that had a mech from the Dead End so shook up?”

“Nothin’!” Swerve replied. “Nothin’!”

“Swerve...” Punch lowered his tone and Swerve flinched. “I know the inn was build on Lockdown’s ole lair... were ya lookin’ to score on the scraps he left behind?”

“I just got turned around,” Swerve said, a lie but a largely harmless one. “They turned the old smugglin’ tunnel into an engex cellar... It’s were they make their engex ‘n kremzeek.”

“Ya own a bar,” Punch said. “Ya got yer own brews, what would ya care ‘bout theirs?”

“Some of their distillations are... just fraggin’ awesome, Mech,” Swerve replied. “They’d make a killin’ if they’d pair up wit one o’ the big brewers on the mainland but they don’t give a frag. I wanted to see what they’re doin’ so different. We both get out stuff from the orchard... I just don’t know what they do wit it that makes it... I found a recipe book. Eh... Camshaft caught me, didn’t hear’m come down the stairs. Didn’t hear’m ‘til he wanted me to. Told me to get on my way. Had me cornered. Before I could even take a step, Downshift was behind me ‘n he told me I’d stay on my side o’ the island if I knew what was good for me.”

“I hope ya weren’t plannin’ to rough up Camshaft in order to get away with their recipes,” Punch said.

“‘M insulted,” Swerve replied.

“They didn’t lay a digit on ya,” Jazz said. “But they got ya runnin’ scared. Didn’t even threaten to break yer legs, like Dipole would if ya got hold o’ her cookbook.”

“It’s not what they said, it’s how they said it,” Swerve replied.

“How’d they say it,” Jazz asked.

“Calm like the eye o’ the hurricane,” Swerve said. “‘N ya know what comes after the eye.”

“What about Lockdown?” Punch asked. “He come ‘round anymore?”

“I’ve heard he’s tried,” Swerve replied. “I heard one o’ his goons came in on the ferry ‘n tried to suggest the demon Praxians owed him a cut.”

“And?” Punch asked.

“Downshift told him to get lost without lookin’ up from his stew pot,” Swerve said. “I hear the aft made some threats ‘gainst his pretty creations ‘n conjunx while some o’ his customers saw’m out.”

“And?” Punch asked.

“Fell off the ferry on the way back to Staniz,” Swerve said. “Sharkticon got’m before anyone could help.”

“‘N ya think the innkeepers had somethin’ to do wit it?” Punch rolled his optics.

“Well... they coulda,” Swerve replied. “Coulda pushed’m off.”

[wizardofsleep]

I say this with all the love in the world for Ashton, but of course they were gonna take the shard and ignore the warnings. He does believe in fate- he doesn’t believe fate applies to HIM. This is someone who has repeatedly been through things that should have killed them and they didn’t. What didn’t kill them made them more powerful- both the earth shard and dunamis came with their own consequences but it made them stronger and that’s the lesson Ashton has carried in them and discovered.

Ashton is a superiority and inferiority complex blended together. If he dies taking the shard, oh well, he won’t suffer the consequences- the Hells will, everyone who loves them will. If he succeeds, he’s going to hold unimaginable power and be even more of a rock-solid support to his team (pun intended).

So Ashton makes Fearne promise she won’t stop him, he makes her promise she will call for help if he needs it, and they take the shard and put their trust in the people around them. They go through one minute of ancient power trying to sunder their very being, they feel their arm fall off, they are blown to smithereens before reforming, and they hold on until they wake up moments later with a magma arm. But none of those things matter, because his friends were there, his friends were healing him, the ring on his finger from Deanna brought him back to life from certain death.

There are consequences to your actions. No reward without the risk, right? And sometimes it pays off, sometimes you pay a steep price, you bet on 00 and you win, and you think you made the right choice. Until you look up at the people who watched you shatter in front of their eyes, the same people who healed you that also tried to stop what was happening, the same people who believed in the risk and would have rightfully fought you had you had the spine to tell them your crazy plan that was doomed from the start.

Sometimes inevitable probability is the consequence of your actions. Sometimes the consequences are the friends you made along the way.

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[coolemmasulivan2]

Back on Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a fight with Lando, you’re nowhere to be found when he leaves for Austin, making him fear the relationship is over. But when you arrive at the track with Max, he gets a second chance to make things right, and the two of you reconcile.

Word count: 2061

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

You and Lando rarely fought. You’d been together since his final season in Formula 2, a bloody long time, and you could count the big fights on one hand. But this one was different. This was the worst of them all.

It was his last day at home before flying to Austin, and somehow everything went down.

"You're being clingy!" He shouted, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration etched on his face.

You stared at him, stunned. "I’m being clingy? Me? Lando, we’ve been together for years, and I have never asked you for anything. The one time I do, and this is what you say? Wow."

"Yeah, well, you���ve never acted like this before!" His face hardened, eyes sparking with irritation you weren’t used to. "Seriously, if you suddenly want some boyfriend who’ll sit around every night, watching dumb TV shows and cuddling you to sleep, maybe you should find someone else."

You shook your head, disbelief morphing into something different, something more hurt. "Maybe I should do that!"

He was beyond pissed. "Then please, do! I'm going out and I'll do the same." He turned, grabbing his jacket without a second glance. and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him.

You flinched at the echo, the silence crashing down around you as tears started to well up. "I hate you, Lando Norris." You whispered into the emptiness of the apartment.

Lando sat in the VIP section of his favorite Monaco club, gazing blankly over the crowded dance floor. The music pulsed, people laughed and danced, but his thoughts were miles away, thinking of you.

Max leaned in, breaking Lando’s trance. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Lando shrugged. "Was it that bad?"

Lando sighed, his gaze distant. "It was! It was the worst fight we’ve ever had." He swallowed, the words bitter. "She probably thinks I’m cheating on her right now."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Why would she think that?"

"Because, I pretty much said that." Lando muttered lound enough for Max to hear over the music.

Max looked at him, incredulous. "Why the hell would you say that, you absolute idiot? You love her."

Lando exhaled heavily. "I was angry! I didn’t even think. I just… said it. I realized how bad it sounded the second I left."

Max shook his head, staring at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Well, congratulations: you’re an idiot!"

"Thanks for the information."

It was late when Lando finally got home. The apartment was dark, and silence filled the rooms. He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, his mind caught between whether he should crash on the sofa or swallow his pride, apologize, and lie beside you.

He waked to the closed bedroom door, standing there for a long moment, nerves filling his body. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He stepped back and with the sting of guilt he fell down on the sofa.

You were deep asleep when a hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes barely open, hair rumpled from sleep.

"What?"

She yawned, rubbing her eyes before looking at you. "Your phone won’t stop ringing."

Blinking, you glanced at the empty nightstand, remembering you’d left your phone in the living room. "What time is it?" You muttered. "It’s probably Lando. We were supposed to leave for Austin early."

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head and laying down next to you. "Then answer it or turn it off. It’s too early for this, and I’m exhausted."

"She rejected my call!" Lando exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the apartment.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s good news."

"How is that good?"

"At least we know she’s okay." He said. "And still mad at you, which is probably deserved."

"I don’t even know if she was still here when I got home last night. The bedroom door was closed, and I just… crashed on the sofa. I only realized she was gone this morning."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "So, what’s the plan now?"

“I don’t know,” Lando groaned, slumping into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "The team’s going to kill me if I miss this flight."

"So go!" Max said firmly.

Lando looked up, shaking his head. "No way. I’m not leaving without her."

Max rolled his eyes. "Look, she knows you have to leave, Lando. Sooner or later, she’s coming back, and when she does, I’ll bring her to Austin myself. Just go."

"What if she refuses to go?"

"She loves you. She'll want t make things right. Trust me!"

Lando hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise."

You slipped into the apartment two hours later, knowing Lando would be gone by now. The silence felt heavy as you shut the door, but before you could make it to the kitchen, Max appeared, stepping out from Lando’s streaming room.

You jumped, clutching your chest. "Max! What the hell? You scared me!"

"Sorry!" He said, raising his hands in apology.

"What are you doing here? Is Lando still here?" You glanced around, half expecting him to walk out from somewhere.

"He left. Had to, or he’d have missed his flight."

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long sip. "I thought you were going with him."

"I am. I was just waiting for you."

You looked at him, understanding dawning slowly. "Max, I don’t think going with you is a good idea." You sank into a chair at the small dining table, and Max sat across from you.

"That’s not true."

"Max, you don’t know how he treated me, the things he said…" You swallowed, voice shaking. "He told me I should find someone else. And said he would, too."

Max leaned forward, shaking his head. "Look, he was furious and stupid. Belive me, I know what he said, and he regrets every word. He didn’t even want to leave. I practically had to drag him onto the helicopter."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Max, I don't know."

"He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot in love with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, Y/N. He’s been calling you non-stop, hoping you’d pick up, and he’s completely torn up about it. So please, come with me. Let’s go to Austin."

Lando had been unusually quiet all day. Practice had gone well, but not well enough; the Ferraris were ahead, and so was Verstappen. His mind should’ve been on the upcoming sprint qualifying, but all he could think about was you and the fight. He could only hope that Max was somehow convincing you to come to Austin.

"Everything alright? You’ve been quiet, which is… not like you." Oscar asked, glancing over at Lando as they wrapped up filming a video for McLaren’s social media.

"Just tired." Lando muttered.

Oscar hesitated, then asked gently. "Where’s Y/N? Lily told me she was coming."

Lando’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking up to meet Oscar’s. "I… don’t think she’s coming." He admitted, his voice low. "I messed things up pretty badly."

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Want to talk about it?"

Lando shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not really. Just… hoping I haven’t lost her." He said, more to himself than to Oscar.

Lando was suiting up, pulling on his gloves and securing his helmet, trying to lock his focus onto the upcoming sprint qualifying. But the knot of anxiety in his stomach hadn’t eased since he arrived, knowing he might have to go through this entire weekend without you there.

Just then, Max appeared in front of him, grinning. "Hey, mate. Just came by to wish you luck. And, by the way…" Max lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s here."

"Fuck... thank you for bringing her."

There, standing quietly near the corner, arms crossed and headphones on, was you. You looked a little nervous, a shy expression on your face and when your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

A wave of relief fell over him, and he instinctively took a step forward, desperate to close the space between you. But Max put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Not now." Max warned. "You’ve got a sprint to think about. You can talk to her after."

"But—" Lando began, his eyes darting back to you, a urge to apologize.

A couple of mechanics also intercepted him, nudging him toward the car with hurried reminders. "We’re starting in a few, Lando."

Lando clenched his jaw, glancing back at you. Taking a deep breath, Lando slipped into the car, his heart beating a little steadier, his mind clearing. For the first time all day, he felt ready. You were here and that was everything.

You watched the qualifying from the garage, heart pounding with every lap. It was always like this: nerve-wracking, pride and fear as you watched him push himself and the car to the limit. But today, your chest felt even tighter, knowing the tension lingering between you.

When the session ended, Lando finished fourth. Relief mixed with a bit of pride washed over you as you clapped, your gaze fixed on him as he came into the garage.

The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. He strode over and without a word, he reached for your hand, gently but firmly, and led you out of the garage toward his driver’s room, ignoring the curious glances around you.

Once inside, he closed the door. "Y/N… Babe, I’m so sorry."

You looked down, your arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me, Lando. You didn’t just walk away, you made me feel like I was… too much."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand again. "I was an idiot. I don’t even know why I said those things. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. None of it was true. You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re… everything to me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "That could never be true. I can’t imagine any of this, my life, racing, anything, without you." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I was terrified you wouldn’t come. That I’d ruined everything."

You took a shaky breath. "Max convinced me… told me you didn’t want to leave, that you were just… scared of losing me."

"More than you know." He said, his hand holding yours firmly. "Please forgive me, Y/N. I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you."

"I don't want you to give up anything, Lando."

"I know. I know. That's not what you asked me."

After a long moment, you squeezed his hand. "I’m here now." You said softly. "Let’s just start with that."

Relief flooded his face as he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t want to mess this up ever again."

You gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I didn’t come all this way to hold onto what happened. Let’s just… move forward. Together."

He smiled. "Together."

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Lando?" A team member called from the hallway. "They need you back in the garage in five!"

Lando glanced back toward the door, then returned his gaze to you, clearly torn. "Go!" You murmured. "I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You melted into it, letting the last of the hurt dissolve in his warmth.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a smile . "I’ll be quick." He said, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting it go and heading toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered.

[suksatoru]

Sukuna is sure there's something wrong with you for loving him.

He's not lovable. He didn't even know how soft love could be until you came around. Sukuna is a brutally honest man, but he can't stop muttering the lie "I don't love you" against your lips even as he kisses you

He lies a lot to you, he realizes. He lies when he tells you that you mean nothing to him, he lies when his fingers dig into your skin as he reminds you you're replaceable. He lies when he says you're stupid—you have a brilliant and creative mind he adores

He thinks you'll slowly fade away like all the things in his life eventually do. He thought his love for you would slowly flitter and diminish with time and he'd stop thinking about you constantly

Unfortunately, Sukuna wasn't familiar with love. He didn't know how unpredictable it could be at times, or how it worked. It brought out parts of him he didn't even know existed.

"I was offered a job in another kingdom."

He looks down at you. You're laying on his chest right now. A single, delicate finger moving across the dark ink swirling on his skin as your face is pressed lovingly against his scarred body.

His large palm drags itself over the nape of your neck and towards the back of your head. He gently fists your hair and tilts your head upwards so you can see his scowl

"You're not going anywhere."

You smile. It makes his chest feel tight and his heart rate pick up as you slowly lift your head off of his chest, criss crossing your legs as you sit up on the bed beside him

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

If anyone else had even dared to think the words, let alone speak them, Sukuna would've sliced their body into more pieces than they could ever count. But you're a fearless thing. While people tie toe around him, you dance around the King of Curses like you couldn't care less.

He smiles. The gesture feels odd but his lips naturally curl upwards at your remark. One of his hands lazily caress your thigh as he gently nudges the fabric of your night gown out of the way

"Who are you to try and leave? You belong here. With me." Sukuna says lowly, his voice dropping an octave as he looks at you through half lidded eyes. You can see the amusement in his eyes as his fingers wrap around your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze before you sigh

"But what if I wanted to leave? You said it yourself, I am not a priority of yours here." You press, leaning closer with a small pout on your lips as he scoffs

"I don't care." He mutters, not meeting your eyes as he looks up at the domed ceilings above him. Sukuna's room was never a place he used to enjoy being in. To him, the golden furniture and high, carved walls never made him feel anything at all

Now, in the mornings, he'd wake up to you peacefully sleeping beside him. Curled into his side, your presence had become an unshakable thing in his room. Slowly, it became a bundle of passion and love for him to exist freely in.

"Just say you're in love with me." You tease, your soft laughter slowly pulling his gaze away from the ceiling as he watched you crawl back onto his chest, pressing feather soft kisses onto his jaw

He lets out a breath through his nose, mentally preparing himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth as he puts his hands on your waist to steady himself.

"I...I do." he mumbles, more to himself as your raise your brows in surprise

"You what?"

He grits his teeth, wondering why you're making this so difficult for him. Sukuna glares at you silently, hoping you'll be able to push past his arrogant words and see the underlying message

"You know what. So shut up and go back to doing that stupid thing you were doing." He concludes, referring to when you were tracing his tattoos. You laugh louder as your eyes crinkle in amusement

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. can you try that again, your highness?" You smirk, pressing your palm flat against his pec as he scowls

Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't—

"I love you."

The words come out strained, almost a whisper as he stares up at the ceiling. His grip on you is tight and he absolutely refused to look down into your eyes. He knows your lips are probably parted in shock. Your silence is long as he awaits a response, suddenly questioning if he'd said the right thing—

Both of your hands grab hold of his cheeks, slowly turning his face towards yours as one of his arms instinctively reaches out to pull you closer

Your voice is soft, but the warmth and relief that spreads through his chest is a welcomed sensation

"I love you too."

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed. 

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before. 

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother. 

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious. 

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger. 

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early. 

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast. 

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free. 

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie. 

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home. 

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. 

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals. 

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries. 

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed. 

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience. 

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you. 

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress. 

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind. 

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand. 

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you. 

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.” 

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling. 

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you. 

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door. 

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead. 

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you. 

“As they have been taught, your reverence.” 

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years. 

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down. 

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.” 

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection. 

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you. 

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful. 

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before. 

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door. 

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you. 

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face. 

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you. 

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?” 

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one. 

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down. 

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting. 

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat. 

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction. 

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight. 

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head. 

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.” 

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room. 

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen. 

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.  “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime. 

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different? 

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different. 

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew. 

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with. 

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing. 

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap. 

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively. 

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face. 

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke. 

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.” 

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for. 

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul. 

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted. 

“Soon.” 

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up. 

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation. 

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly. 

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent. 

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better. 

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right. 

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach. 

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence. 

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive. 

But god, you wanted to live. 

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer. 

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides. 

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front. 

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression. 

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view. 

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability. 

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd. 

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime. 

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago. 

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you. 

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?” 

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes. 

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side. 

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements. 

The two of you were communicating. 

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?” 

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you. 

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days. 

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child. 

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.  He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in. 

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it. 

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of. 

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves. 

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position. 

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you. 

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin. 

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this. 

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime. 

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge. 

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.  

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?” 

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter. 

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.” 

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame. 

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir. 

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.” 

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough. 

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before. 

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed. 

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain. 

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover. 

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer. 

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying. 

Animal, indeed. 

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. 

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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

[darnell-la]

perchance..dry humping with logan….pretty please with all the cherries on top

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗡 '𝗘𝗠 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

summary: Logan had just became apart of the x men. he’s always been known to flirt with whoever he could, but when y/n came around, he realized she was the only one he wanted to smell like.

warnings: up late, public humping, embarrassed, kissing, submission, dominance, dry orgasm, love confession, etc.

note: we kind of want to write a submissive!logan… tell us what y’all think.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Whatcha doin’ down here, bub? It’s like three in the mornin,” Logan made his way into the kitchen. Y/n had jumped from the man’s voice. She wasn’t expecting anyone down here. She wasn’t expecting him down here.

“God — I-I’m just listening to music,” y/n placed her phone down and took her headphones out. She was lying and somehow, Logan knew that. The way she slammed her phone — He couldn’t hold back his smirk.

“Are you sure that’s what you’re up to?” Logan asked as he sat next to y/n with his eyes on her phone. “Yes, I was-“ she tried to lie but she was cut off when Logan snatched her phone.

“Hey!” She yelled and whispered at the man, praying her phone was locked, but it wasn’t. Shit. “Let’s see what we have here,” Logan leaned back in his chair as he clicked the video he assumed she was just watching.

“Why are you watching us train?” Logan asked, already finding whatever she was doing boring. “You’re not even in the video,” he laughed, trying to figure out what it was that she was looking at until he noticed the video was cropped.

It was cropped to show him closer. The man skipped the video and noticed it was almost an hour long of him fighting.

The smirk that grew on his face, raised y/n’s heart rate. She was caught and she had nothing to back her up.

“Now, what made you do this, bub?” Logan slid her phone across the table for her to look at. “If I’m not mistaken, that looks like me — for an hour,” he pointed at himself fight training.

“I-I can't explain,” she said low, so embarrassed that she got caught. How could she get caught? She knew she should’ve stayed in her room.

“I don’t think there’s much to explain, princess. Seems you get off by watching me fight,” Logan was now hunching over, looking at her with his sweet and soft eyes.

She couldn’t look at him. She swore she would pass out if she did.

“You like watching me fight?” Logan asked y/n, a right hand softly touching her thigh. He’s been teasing her ever since he got here. Tonight was the first time he touched her. She was going inside on the inside.

“I know you do, you wanna know why?” He asked, hands getting higher until he stopped under her nightgown. His fingers were grazing her panties. Y/n looked up at the older boy, eyes shy.

“Because I can smell that pretty cunt leak,” his voice was sweet, yet dark. “And you’re always like that. It’s hard walking past you because you’re always so damn wet,” he tease as he rubbed on her clothes heat.

“Logan,” she whispered, not knowing if she wanted him to do this. They’re in the kitchen, so anyone could come down here and see how flustered she is from the way he’s talking and touching her.

“C’mere, bub,” Logan pulled away before patting his lap. Y/n was confused at first, but got the idea and did was she was told. She got up and went to sit, back facing him until he turned her around to sit, facing him.

As soon as she sat down, she felt how hard he was. It felt like actual metal, but she knew a human cock had no bone — So why is he this hard?

“You feel that, princess? Got me like this as soon as I walked in,” he said, making his cock throb through his pajamas. “I-I don’t know if we can do this,” y/n spoke. She’s never been a submissive kind, but he brought it out of her.

“Why not? I’ve liked you ever since I got here. Had to work weeks to make you nervous,” Logan’s hands traveled from her back, down to her ass to grip and pull at.

“We’re in the kitchen, Logan. A-And I don’t think the girls that you talk to will-“ she went to say but he cut her off quickly. “Ah uh — I don’t talk to anyone, bub. They talk to me,” he corrected her.

“I’ve been workin’ hard to impress you. No one else. Who gives a shit if they want me. I don’t want them,” Logan lifted his hand to cup her chin.

“Are you okay with that?” He asked, now using his hand that was on her ass to move her, making her grind on his clothes cock.

The whine that left her mouth, made Logan’s heart skip a beat. She sounds so beautiful.

“C’mon, baby, tell me — Tell me you’re okay with being my pretty girl,” he said, slowly moving his own hips. He kept asking her, wanting her to reply as her mind fogged up.

“O-Okay,” her head fell onto his shoulder. Logan lifted the girl's head back up only to lean in and suck on her neck. He wanted to make sure she knew he was going to claim her.

“Lo,” y/n moaned, now moving her own hips, feeling her cunt throb on him. She was getting hot and her stomach felt funny. Kind of when she masturbated but better.

She’s never grinned at someone, but this felt so good. This felt amazing.

“Always lookin’ so pretty, baby,” Logan said as his hands lifted her nightgown up so he could touch and feel her skin. “T-Thank you,” she stuttered as she looked into the man’s eyes.

Y/n was the first to lean in and taste Logan. He was sweet. He already knew she was sweet, but finding it out for himself was the best feeling.

Y/n’s hips began to speed up as her moans got a bit louder. Logan knew she was near. He couldn’t help but smirk on her lips. She was falling apart right on top of him.

“C-Cumming,” the word was barely heard from the low she was. Her moan was broken as she shook. She’s never had her cunt throb this hard before. She couldn’t stop it.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned under his breath as his hips bucked. He swear he wouldn’t cum in his pants. He’s not one of those, but tonight — he was different. Y/n felt wetness grow under him, and she knew it wasn’t her.

She was confused until she looked at the man in front of her. His breathing stuttered, his body twitched and his shaky arm was holding her back into him so she’d be closer to him.

“O-Oh my god, baby — Fuck,” the man caught his breath and calmed down from his high. In his mind, he thought she was emasculated, but when he looked at her needy eyes, he knew she still felt submissive.

“You’re so good, baby,” Logan gave her a peck. “I think I’m in love,” he joked, but they could both tell he wasn’t joking. “I know I am,” y/n said as her hands rested on his shoulders.

Logan felt relief before he smashed his lips on hers, making out with her roughly but softly at the same time. He eventually took her up to his room, not being able to hold back and tell her how he was going to move everything from her room into his.

He didn’t think he wanted her this bad, but after tonight — After she showed how much she liked him back, he needed to keep her around him at all costs. He was in love and she was too.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 1

Part 2

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."

Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.

Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.

"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.

Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"

"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.

It was enough. Alicent understood.

He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."

Alicent does not respond.

Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."

Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one of the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.

Rhaenyra goes to her best friend, and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.

"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."

On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.

More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."

Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."

Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."

Your face twists at the young princess's words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."

You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.

In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.

He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.

Tis strange.

You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.

Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.

Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood the very man who allowed such madness to ensue: your father.

You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.

Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.

Twas strange indeed.

Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.

As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.

Has my child not suffered enough?

Has my child not suffered enough?

ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ

Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.

The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.

Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.

Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.

As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.

But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.

How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.

He chuckles once more.

The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.

What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.

You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.

He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.

"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"

You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.

You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.

He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.

That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"

One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?

He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"

You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."

It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"

Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.

You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."

Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—

You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.

He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now

He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."

You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.

Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.

"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"

You look at him, but do not respond.

"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.

You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.

"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.

You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.

By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.

You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.

But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.

It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"

You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.

You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.

A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?

You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.

You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.

Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."

The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."

Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."

Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.

His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."

If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.

Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.

A true shame.

"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."

You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.

Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.

Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"

Caraxes hisses.

"Keligon!" Stop!

He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.

You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.

Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.

"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.

The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.

You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.

Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.

"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."

You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.

"I should smother him in his sleep."

The thought chills you.

"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.

He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."

"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."

"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.

His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.

You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."

He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"

"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."

Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."

You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"

"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."

"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."

Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.

"You vomited in the dragon pit?"

You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"

His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."

"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."

Carrying?

Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."

"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."

Your face burns upon hearing this.

Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."

"No, I-"

"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."

"That is not-"

"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"

"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.

Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"

You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"

"You what?!" he steps forward.

Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"

But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"

Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"

"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"

You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"

"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.

You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.

"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."

"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, release you, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."

You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.

"Do you understand, girl?"

You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."

Otto looks you once over before turning and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.

He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.

You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.

[babyleostuff]

baby, you’re a drunk mess

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!wonwoo x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 958

. . . being drunk is not that bad when you have wonwoo to take care of you

wonwoo knew exactly how this night would end the second he received a message from seungcheol, inviting you over for a drink. it never ended with only a drink. 

„baby, lean on me,” wonwoo grabbed you tighter by your waist, as you stumbled over your own feet, trying to act as if you weren't totally waisted. “i’m going to kill mingyu for making her play that drinking game”. 

„m’ fine,” you mumbled. „see, i can walk on m’ own,” you took his hand that was resting on your hip, and shoved it away, taking a step forward. wonwoo smirked at your weak attempt to push him away, considering you were drunk out of your mind, but your confidence that you were so much stronger than him was truly comical. he knew he shouldn’t have let you go, but maybe if you eventually ran into a wall or something you’d cooperate better because there was no way he’d get you home with you acting like this. 

wonwoo could only shake his head in amusement, while following your every slow step. there was no way he’d actually let you fall. „you’re doing great, sweetie, but let me help you, hm?” you whipped your head around, glaring at him. „i can do it,” you hiccuped, „on m’ own,” you said, but as you took another step, you stumbled once again, falling right back into your boyfriend’s embrace. 

„are you done?” he shifted you around, so he could hold you properly, taking most of your body weight on him. you nodded, and put your hands around his bicep, finally calming down. wonwoo slowly started walking towards your apartment, holding you tenderly, and even though he didn't have to see your drooping eyelids, he could feel your energy dropping with every step. 

somehow he managed to open the door and get you to the bed without either of you falling over. "okay, now let's lie down," he said quietly so as not to startle you, seeing that you were already half asleep. you nodded weakly, and with his help, you finally managed to lie on the bed.

wonwoo stroked your head gently and kissed your slightly sweaty forehead before turning on the bedside lamp next to the bed so he could turn off the main light and enflug your room into soft darkness.

„wonwoo,” you called softly. 

„i’ll be right back baby, we have to wipe your makeup off.”

after turning off the light, he quickly went to the bathroom where he took all the things he would need to put you to sleep. "i'm coming," he said, grabbing one of his t-shirts and hoodies from the closet in case you were cold at night (especially since he knew that when you were drunk you became clingier and wearing his clothes always made you so happy). 

he put all the things on the bed and grabbed your hands. "come on honey, you need to change." happy that you were cooperating so much better than you were fifteen minutes ago, he easily helped you change into his clothes and placed you back on the pillows so he could wash off your makeup.

“you don't have to do this, wonwoo,” you whispered, but when he placed a cotton pad on your face, you closed your eyes and sighed, grateful that you had someone who could take care of you so well. "Was I very insufferable today?"

wonwoo didn’t even move, he just continued to focus on your face, slowly removing more of the makeup from your face. "you're never insufferable," he said. "don't ever say that."

"i know, but i feel like i ruined your night because you have to take care of me and-"

"do you want me to get mad at you?" he asked sharply, looking straight into your tired eyes. "you didn't ruin my night. being with my brothers and you at the same time is the biggest gift from the universe, no matter how drunk you are. i'm your boyfriend, i'm here to take care of you, just like you take care of me ,” he said, throwing out a used cotton pad. "should i remind you how many things you do for me when i'm busy at work? how you prepare my food for rehearsals, and how you do my laundry when i'm too tired to do it? when you listen to me complain for hours about how exhausted i am?"

"baby, drunk or not, i will always take care of you, and not because i have to, or because it's my duty, but because i love you," he said with sincerity in his eyes, and despite your not-so-sober state, you didn't miss his look full of love. "seeing you having fun with my friends means everything to me." you nodded slightly in understanding. what did you do to deserve jeon wonwoo?

"okay, make-up removed, clothes changed, do you need anything else?"

"maybe water?"

"of course, let’s just get you under the covers."

after covering you up, wonwoo went out to the kitchen to get a glass of water and painkillers for tomorrow morning and returned to your bedroom.

“okay, now we can-,” his words faltered when he saw you already asleep, your hand on his pillow, and you snuggled into yours. he placed the glass and pills on your bedside table quietly, and turned off the light before lying on his side of the bed, lifting your hand and placing it on his stomach. almost as if you knew in your sleep that he was next to you, you placed your head on his chest, treating it like your new, comfy pillow.

"i'm a drunk mess," you whispered after a while, kissing his jaw.

"yes. but you're my drunk mess."

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[cameronsprincess]

been thinking about your boyfriend owing rafe and he takes you as payment when your man can’t pay up…

CW: male receiving oral, praise, degradation, hair pulling, rafe forces your boyfriend to watch him throat fuck you.

daydreams 𓆩♡𓆪 main masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 taglist form

you’d known your boyfriend fucked up the moment he came home two weeks ago. he’d looked terrified, and his all around vibe was just off.

but when you’d ask him what was wrong, he’d brush you off and say “nothing, all’s good.”

of course, you should’ve pressed harder, but you trusted him, you didn’t think he’d actually gotten himself into real trouble.

but oh how wrong you’d been.

you knew trouble was brewing when rafe cameron had arrived at you and your boyfriends shared apartment, demanding to see jake.

“he’s not home!” you’d lie, hoping rafe would leave and just deal with it later.

rafe would glare at you, his blue eyes dark, and void of any light at all.

“now sweetheart, why would you lie to me like that, huh?”

“i-i’m not lying… he isn’t here.”

rafe would push his way past you and into your apartment like he owned the place. “jake! i know you’re here, bud. come on out.”

you stand by the front door, frozen in fear and unsure of what to do in this situation. you should call the cops, tell them rafe broke in, but that wouldn’t work, he had pretty much the entire police force in his back pocket. you could try and catch him by surprise, find something that would easily take him down, but then there’s thoughts of how badly he’d harm you if you failed at knocking him out..

jake emerges from the bedroom, hands held up in surrender.

“i don’t have the money… yet. i swear, i’ll have it in two-”

rafe tsks, shaking his head at your boyfriend. “i told you, jake. you had two weeks, or i’d take something else from you.” he pauses, his head turning and cold blue eyes landing on your face before he faces jake once more, “didn’t i?”

you hear your boyfriend’s sharp intake of air, your eyes finding his from across the room. you tilt your head to the side, silently asking him what rafe means by “i’d take something else from you.”

“j-jake? what.. what does he mean by that?”

rafe breathes out a laugh, “oh, you didn’t tell her our deal? i don’t know why that doesn’t surprise me, you always were a fucking coward.”

once more, you eye your boyfriend suspiciously while shouting, “what the fuck does he mean, jake! what the fuck do you owe him?”

jake opens his mouth to speak, but rafe quickly cuts him off.

“he owes me two grand. but, he agreed to let me have… something else if he didn’t have my money in that time frame.”

your eyes find rafe’s, “what… what does he owe you?” you ask, though you’re sure you already know.. and you don’t like the thought.

rafe smiles, and you swear it’s the first real smile you’d ever seen on the cameron boy’s face.

“you.” he replies calmly.

your eyes nearly pop out of your skull, your mouth hangs open as you try and take in what’s been said. your boyfriend offered you up as payment if he couldn’t scrape together the two grand. why the fuck did he owe rafe two grand? what the fuck was happening?

“m-me?”

rafe takes two long strides toward you, his right hand reaching out to caress your cheek, “yes, you. and now, it’s time he pays up.”

rafe gently pushes the front door shut, locking it before he places his large hands on your hips. natural instinct has you backing away from his touch, but the look in his eyes has you crushing that thought quickly.

“jake here is gonna watch while his pretty girlfriend chokes on my cock,” he pauses, turning his head to look at your boyfriend who stands fuming across the room. “isn’t that right, jake?”

you barely hear it over the harsh sounds of his breathing, but jake mumbles a low and angry “yes.”

“good boy, see you’re learning.”

rafe turns to face you again, his eyes softening slightly. “now, you’re gonna be a good girl and get on your knees for me, right? no fighting?”

you glance at jake and then rafe again. jake had fucking offered you up like a fucking object, and as much as you didn’t want to do this, you wanted to see jake suffer the way he was making you suffer. though, was sucking rafe cameron’s cock really suffering? he was gorgeous.. he had this aura that drew women in, and even though he was a complete fucking dick, you wouldn’t mind doing this, right?

without giving it another thought, you slowly lower yourself to your knees, your eyes never leaving rafe’s in the process.

“such a good girl, aren’t you?” rafe praises, his large hands working his belt before working his zipper and button of his jeans next.

he drops his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles before he pulls his boxers down next. you eyes go wide at the sight in front of you. long, hard and thick, already dripping with precum, just waiting to have your lips wrapped around it. he was the biggest dick you’d ever seen in your life, and thoughts of him shoving it down your throat or into your pussy had your thighs slick with need, your clit throbbing.

rafe grips his thick shaft in his right hand, his left finding home on the back of your head. he slaps the swollen, dripping tip against the seam of your lips, prompting you to open up for him. you quickly obey, opening your mouth and allowing him to slowly push the tip inside.

the taste of his precum coats your tongue, a low hum of appreciation pulled from your throat. rafe smiles down at you, “your girl gets turned on by sucking dick, that’s hot, jake. why’ve you been hiding her from everyone else? didn’t you know sharing is caring?”

you hear a low growl come from your boyfriend, and you risk taking a peek at him from behind rafe’s tall frame. jake’s fists are balled by his sides, his chest heaving up and down as he keep his eyes on the back of rafe’s head.

rafe’s hand tightens in your hair, pulling your focus back on him. “don’t pay attention to him, pay attention to me. be a good girl, and suck my cock like the good little slut i know you are.”

you nod your head the best you can, placing your hands in your lap as you begin to push your head down, taking his long, thick length down your throat. his tip kisses the back of your throat, pulling a small gag from you before you slowly pull back, strings of spit now coating his dick and pulling with your lips.

you suck in a sharp breath through your nose before you begin bobbing your head up and down, licking and sucking every last inch of him. rafe groans, his hand tightening in your hair again and pushing himself all the way down your throat and holding you there.

tears blur your vision and you shift on your knees. rafe slowly drags your head back before ramming himself back down your throat.

the room is filled with your gurgling sounds and rafe’s grunts of pleasure and praises.

“taking my cock so well, i might just have to keep you for myself.”

rafe’s harsh thrusts grow sloppier, his dick twitching in your mouth before his salty, warm cum coats your tongue and throat.

he slowly slips himself from your mouth, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly as he says, “good girl.”

he quickly tucks himself back into his boxers, working his jeans up his legs and fastening his belt while he turns to face your boyfriend who is now red with anger. “next time you owe me money, i suggest you pay up, or else i’m taking that sweet cunt next.”

i really had no clue how to end that? lmaoooo. but rafe motherfucking cameron. what a man. tbh, i woulda left with him, fuck my sorry broke ass bf who offered me as payment. is that wrong of me to say? oh well.😌 it’s rafe cameron, its allowed.🖤 alsooooo, this came out a lot longer than i originally expected but oh well🫠

[jjunberry]

omggg i just read your txt and the pink ribbons headcannons and i’m down on my knees begging you to write something based off beomgyu’s 😫‼️‼️

❝coquette boy❞

choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, smut

warnings: soft dom gyu, sub reader, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, use of ribbons, cum eating, pet names (he calls reader baby & good girl)

wc: 1.2k mlist.

video after video on your tik tok had been filled with girls and their coquette boys. the pink ribbons around their muscles, their waists. it had you clenching around nothing. the thought of beomgyu wrapped up in a pretty pink ribbon was enough to drive you mad. all you could think about was beomgyu, and the pink ribbon wrapped around him. tied into a cute little bow, your beomie.

beomgyu was out with the boys, relaxing after their busy schedules. a part of you wanted to call him home early, but the other part of you said to wait. deciding to wait, you searched your house for any sign of a pink ribbon. once you found the role of ribbon you quickly took off to your bedroom. in your closet you found your matching pink set, perfect for the night ahead.

he came home a few hours later, kicking his shoes off he went in search of you. “babe?” he called, checking the rooms you frequented. he finally found you in your bedroom. his eyes taking in your form, clad in one of your silk robes. “hey babe.” he approached the bed. “hi.” you answered, opening your arms for him.

beomgyu was quick to wrap himself around you. “i missed you,” he buried his face in your chest. “did you?” you asked. he mumbled and nodded his head, burying his face deeper between your chest. “i missed you.” he whined, snuggling you. you giggled, “i missed you beomie, i have a surprise for you.”

his head shot up, “what is it?” he asked excitedly.

you reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the strip of pink ribbon. his eyebrows furrowed, “uh babe, isn’t a present supposed to come with that?” he twirled the ribbon around his finger. “yes but this ribbon is for something else,” you blushed. “like what?” he looked at you to continue.

“it’s for you,” you admitted shyly. “me? how’s it for me?” he teased running his fingers up your arm. “w-well the girls on tiktok were tying the ribbons around their boyfriends, and i wanted to,” you were flustered now. beomgyu’s intense stare making you nervous.

“well go ahead then, show me.” you grinned, with his permission you took his hand in yours. your eyes scanned his body trying to figure out where you wanted to tie the ribbon. beomgyu watched you intensely, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

you grabbed his right hand, carefully wrapping the ribbon around his middle and ring finger. beomgyu smirked as you tied the ribbon into a cute little bow. “if you wanted me to finger you, all you had to do was ask,” he wiggled his fingers tied by the bow.

“beomgyu,” you shrieked smacking his chest. “i w-wasn’t meaning that, i just wanted a coquette boy.” beomgyu laughed at your flustered state. “so you don’t want me to finger you?” he asked, moving away from you. grabbing his shoulders you stopped his movements, “i didn’t say that.” he grinned.

“lay down baby.” he ordered. you laid down and beomgyu was quick to remove your silk robe. his eyes took in the pink lacy set that barely covered you. “you planned this,” he tsked. “i-i did not, i just like this set.”

“don’t lie baby,” with his other hand he pulled your panties back, then let them go. allowing the material to snap against your aching heat. you whined and bucked your hips, “beomie do something please.”

he was quick to pull your panties down. you were soaked, the dark spot on your panties sent blood straight to beomgyu’s cock. “what’s got you so worked up baby?” he teased running his pointer finger down your slit. “you do,” your hips bucked. “all for me?” he teased. you nodded, “all for you beomie.”

the fingers adorning the pink ribbon ran down your slit. your wetness turning the ends of the baby pink ribbon dark. his touch sent electricity through your body. “you’re so pretty baby, pretty and pink.”

without warning he pushed his tied fingers in your aching hole. your wetness soaking his slender fingers, turning the once baby pink ribbon magenta. his other hand held your hips down, as his fingers worked you.

your hips bucking being blocked by the weight of his other hand. “you’re soaked,” he pushed deeper in you, the tips of his fingers brushing the spongy spot deep inside. the spot that seemed only beomgyu’s fingers could reach. “oh fuck,” you whined.

the feeling of his fingers along with the ribbon brushing against your walls, was enough for the knot inside you to snap. “fuck,” you whined. your release running out around beomgyu’s fingers. he tsked watching your pussy throb and push his fingers out.

“baby, i don’t remember saying you could cum.” he frowned, “and here i thought you were my good girl.” he pulled his fingers from your aching cunt. the ribbon soaked in your juices. you whined seeing his fingers glistening in your release.

beomgyu untied the ribbon, licking his fingers clean. “you taste so sweet,” he groaned. your eyes watched as he pushed his pants and boxers down. his cock sprung free, smacking against his abdomen. he was hard, his tip red and angry dripping pre-cum.

he took the soaked ribbon, tying it around the base of his cock into a cute bow. or at least as cute as it could get. “give me one more baby.” you nodded at his words. he rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

pushing forward, his hips met yours. rough thrusts followed, “god baby you feel so good.” he grunted. the ribbon rubbed against your walls as his cock moved in you. his hands had a firm grip on your hips as he rocked his hips against yours.

“fuck,” his rhythm was steady, slow but deep thrusts.

you could feel every inch of him, his tip brushing your cervix with every thrust. “beomie,” you whined. “do you feel good baby?” he asked thrusting harder.

“y-yes beomie it feels so good.” he smirked. your whines filled the room. beomgyu could feel his release approaching, the knot in his stomach tightening. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” his fingers circled your clit. “f-fuck,” you jumped at the feeling. “fill me up beomie, make me full of your cum.” a deep groan left his lips as he sped up his hips.

his fingers gripped you tighter as he thrust deeply, before stilling. the vein in his neck popped, and his stomach muscles tightened. hot thick cum painted your pretty pink insides white. “beomie,” you whined releasing around his pulsing cock, your cum mixing with his, leaking around his softening erection.

he pulled out his soft cock void of cum, and free of the pink ribbon. in the mix of your cum and his was the ribbon, he smirked grabbing it and pulling. you shivered feeling it being pulled from within you. beomgyu held the ribbon between his fingers, the end of it dripping cum.

“this was a nice surprise,” he grinned throwing it in the small garbage can beside your bed. using his pointer and middle finger, he scooped up some of the cum. licking his fingers clean he smiled at you, “tastes so good.”

you felt your cheeks warm, he leaned down and captured your lips with his. the taste of your cum still on his tongue. your hands caressed his cheeks, his eyes locked on yours. “my coquette boy,” you kissed him deeply.

🗒️: like what you’ve read? send a request! guidelines for requesting here.

author’s note: check out txt and the pink ribbons 🎀 which inspired this ask <3

tag list: @304files @jjunieworld @miaroseindreamland

love , echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[vickymura]

boyfriend!riki relieves your exam stress ♡

PAIRING ~ softdom!nrk x gf!reader

SUMMARY ~ your boyfriend riki finds you in a state of utter exhaustion and helps take your mind off of things.

GENRE ~ fluff, smut, soft sex, oral (receiving).

WORD COUNT ~ 3.645k

ᯓ★ listen to this! requested.

you swore that the gods had something else against you that day.

with the coffee you'd so blissfully managed to spill all over your handwritten notes, the lunch you'd mustered up the energy to cook for once but never even got a chance to taste from a trip over stairs, a silly argument with your mom over a call, and to top it off, the lack of your boyfriend's love and comfort. it was all driving you to the brink of your limit.

at about eleven in the night, your room was dark, except for the warm lamp that illuminated your desk and cascaded light over the thick textbooks you were studying from. the noises of pen clicks and highlighter scratching was all that could be heard from hours on end, at least as far as you could keep track of.

however, your little bubble of misery burst for good when you heard the door of your room click open. the familiar and beloved face of your boyfriend, riki, peaked in.

you mustered up all the energy you had and flashed a small but warm smile. your eyes, once so bright and sparkly, were dull and adorned by eye bags. your appearance was let put together than usual, and you weren't proud of it, but you still managed to look just as beautiful to him. “oh? i thought you were busy with work. what're you doing here, riki?” you called out, swiveling in his direction from your chair.

the faint bags under your eyes didn't go unnoticed by him, but he didn't say anything. he further stepped into your room, closing the door behind him, and closing the distance between you two. he reached out a hand to caress your cheek, running a thumb over your eyebags, and gave you a tired, but affectionate smile. riki looked like he needed this just as much as you did. "free time." he shortly replied, too occupied in examining the state you were in.

with a grunt, you stood up from your chair and balanced on your legs numb from having sat down in one position for a prolonged period of time. you immediately wrap your arms around riki's torso, your grip firm as you dig your face into his chest and let some of your weight rest on him. you were incredibly grateful that he didn’t comment, let alone even judge on any aspect of your appearance.

“god, i've missed you..” you sighed, tightening your grip around him.

he snaked his arms around your waist, holding you tight against him, taking in the familiar and reassuring sensations that came with your presence; your scent, your warmth. "you look tired." he let out a sigh, one that sounded both exhausted and sad, burying his face in your hair. he knew you were stressed out, but he hated seeing you like this. it worried and hurt him. it pissed him off.

some of the weight you earlier felt weighing down your shoulders disappeared as soon as you felt riki embrace you. there was something so soothing, so comforting about the way his larger frame held you, but it felt short to relieve every bit of stress you had bubbling in your spine. 

you let out a soft chuckle, but it was only an attempt to soothe the worries you felt bubbling in his mind. “it’s not as bad as it looks, i swear.”

he exhaled through his nose and pulled away, just enough to look at you and gently cup your cheeks in his hands, making you look at him. riki's eyes were focused on you, observing and searching you, before his face twisted into a slight frown. "don't lie to me." he said in a soft voice, not stern, but the slight disappointment in his voice was evident.

the smile you’d mustered up for his sake dropped, a tiny, subconscious pout replacing it instead. you broke eye contact he’d forced openyou by cupping your cheeks, looking down blankly with unfocused eyes. “i’m fine.. just- stressed for finals, y’know?” you mumbled out, generously sugarcoating the conditions life was putting you through.

he sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. riki was well aware of your finals, he's heard you vent about your studies more times than he could count. that's normal stress. but the dark bags under your eyes, the way your words sounded. it was worse than that. "it's more than that, and you know it."

god.. why did he have to know you so well? an excuse to brush off his interrogation was right at the tip of your tongue. but the way he looked at you, his eyes so full of love and concern for you, you couldn’t bear to lie anymore. you leaned forward, hiding your face in his chest, not wanting to directly face him as you made your confession.

“look- it’s just… i had a fight with my mom. my insomnia’s acting up again. everytime i try to do something nice f’myself, it backfires. i’m just so.. frustrated.”

he felt his heart clench as you spoke, the way your voice wavered just a little at the end and the way you kept your face hidden against his chest. his arms wrapped around you tighter, as if he was almost trying to shield you from the things that upset you. riki moved a hand up and began gently stroking your hair, hoping the action could provide a tiny bit of comfort. "baby..." he sighed quietly to himself, and moved a hand under your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him again.

“i’m so tired, riki.. i wanna get my mind off of things so badly. like a relief, for once.” you continued, your voice growing a bit shaky from the tears that had begun to well into your eyes. you were reluctant to make eye contact, knowing it’d only make you feel more emotional, but couldn’t resist doing so.

he could feel his heart break, seeing your eyes glossy and hearing how your voice trembled. riki didn't like seeing you this miserable. he didn't like the way your usual energetic sparkle was replaced with exhaustion. and he absolutely hated the fact that he couldn't make everything be okay for you. he let his thumb gently caress your cheek, as he continued stroking your hair with his other hand, before his mouth opened to speak. "i have an idea."

you nuzzled your face into the wide expanse of his warm hand, his comforting touch balming your worries little by little. his words brought a small but evident flicker of hope into your eyes. “what is it?” "come with me." he said simply, before moving his hands out from your hair, to your waist, and grabbing you, lifting you off the ground to be carried. riki didn't wait for a response and held you up against his body as he moved towards your bed.

you yelped at his sudden action, but held onto him, giving him a look of curiosity and maybe just a little anticipation. your tears had begun to subside already. he laid you down against the sheets of your bed, with him over you, but still between your legs, and placed his forearms on either side of your head, propping himself up.

he let his eyes trail over your face for a moment, taking in all the details he knew so dearly. those damn dark bags under your eyes, the weariness and tiredness on your face, your glossy eyes holding back unshed tears. "i'll help you take your mind off things." he whispered and leaned down, pressing his mouth against the side of your neck, giving you a small and gentle kiss to the skin there.

the look he gave you, the tone of his voice, his worshipping kisses were all the clues you needed to conclude what he was trying to do. you let out a shaky exhale, your head tilting up almost as a reflex to give him more access. his kisses made your heart squeeze in gratitude, anticipation, and maybe just a little guilt. “you... you don’t have to..."

"i want to." he mumbled against your skin, letting his lips linger on your neck for a moment. he moved to trail more kisses along your jawline, slowly making his way to your ear.

"let me take care of you."

you bit down on your lower lip, your chest heaving as a giveaway of your racing heart. you felt heat begin to pool in the pit of your stomach, hands forming fists of the sheets covering your bed beneath. you were stilled for a few seconds before mumbling in a voice barely above a whisper. “okay.”

the way you tensed up with your quiet response, the way he could feel your heart beat faster, the way he could see your chest rise and sink more rapidly- it all brought a small but content smile to his face. "don't hold back for me." he almost purred against your skin, as he planted more kisses on your neck, trailing more up and down the column of your throat, each one slowly growing more and more open-mouthed and hungry.

his words, paired with his soft ministrations were like a deadly spell. you were essentially hypnotized, your eyes fallen close, head tilted back into the pillow below your head, as if you were floating on a cloud.

everytime his lips found a spot on your skin more sensitive than another, you let out a soft gasp and whimper, one that was like a reward for riki. you hummed, grasping onto his hair lightly.

the gentle grasping at his hair only made riki work faster, trailing more urgent kisses along your neck and jawline, down your collarbone. he was trying to find all those spots he knew were sensitive, letting his tongue glide over your skin with each one in an attempt to tease you, to send sensations through your body. 

a small chuckle almost slipped past his lips in a satisfied response, each sound of a low whimper or gentle gasp giving him more motivation and drive. 

riki frowned at the interference and lack of accessibility your hoodie gave, not wasting time in reaching for the hem of it.

“off.” he muttered shortly, the corners of his lips twitching up when you immediately raised your hands up. he carefully pulled the hoodie along with the shirt you had on underneath in one motion and tossed the garments somewhere he was too focused on you to care about.

your skin felt like fire under his eyes trailing over the newly exposed skin of your bare upper body - the bare collarbones and throat he’d marked up, the soft skin of your stomach, your bra. he lout a soft groan of appreciation, ducking his head to resume his trail of kisses on the skin of your upper chest.

he continued this process for a bit, moving from one side to the other, down further onto the top of your chest, when he started to gently press his lips against your skin, moving ever so slightly closer to your breast. “you know..” he mumbled, between kisses, “i love you in anything..” he paused to give a gentle bite to the skin right above the start of your bra.

your breath hitched, back beginning to arch into his touch as he continued. “but my favorite look on you..” his voice grew huskier with each kiss and nip, “is when you’re wearing nothing but my hickeys.” with the last word, he moved his hand up to lightly brush his fingers over one of the clasps of your bra, giving a slight tug to the material.

you let out a shaky exhale to suppress a groan, holding onto his silky raven locks just a little tighter. you lift your weight up in assistance to rid yourself of the bra, letting out a soft exhale of relief when the cool air of your room hit your chest, the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach growing more intense by the second.

riki wasted no time in burying his face between your soft mounds, attacking one of your breasts with hot, wet kisses and gentle nips. he took your nipple into his mouth, eliciting a pretty gasp from you. he swirled his tongue around your bud, humming at the sensation of it hardening under his touch.

he switched to your neglected breast, repeating his actions with such consistent intensity and passion that had you moaning his name like a mantra in pleasure. you whimpered everytime his hair brushed by your bare skin, the sensation of it one like a feather. your stomach heaved from how raggedy your breathing had gotten thighs pressing together in undeniable arousal.

he continued leaving a trail of marks and pecks down your body, pausing occasionally to give special attention to certain areas. he stopped just above your naval, just over your belly button, only to press the flat of his tongue against the skin there. he looked up for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, still focused and hungry.

riki began to lower his body a little more between your legs, but stopped once he was hovering his head right over your waist. he lifted a hand to drag a finger over the edge of your pants, tugging on the material as he spoke in a low voice. "want these gone."

you bit your lower lip at the sight of how he was situated between your legs, your folds pulsating in desire to be stimulated by his touch. you lifted your hips as a silent gesture for him to undress you.

he moved to kneel, sitting back on his ankles for a moment, as he took in the sight of you, laying below him, completely at his mercy. he almost groaned just at that. he made quick work of the task, unbuttoning your pants and swiftly pulling them down, tossing them somewhere behind him. riki leaned back down, his hands immediately moving to your thighs.

you weren’t wearing the sexiest pair of underwear you owned, having assumed that such intimacies wouldn't go down that night. but, you were pleasantly surprised at how worked up riki seemed to get when he saw the thin pink cotton panties you’d worn, so wet from the crotch that they clung onto the outline of your pussy.

feeling conscious under his silent intense gaze, you began bringing your thighs together, but riki was quick to grab at your thighs and jerk them apart. the action was not too rough, but not soft enough for you to have the guts to repeat it.

he looked up at you from his position of being face-first with your panties, simply admiring your nearly bare form. he shifted closer, suddenly taking a hot, wet lick of your entrance from over your panties, tasting your slick of arousal.

you whimpered loudly at the sensation of it, your fingers once again holding onto riki’s hair tightly. you clenched around nothing in sheer need for stimulation as he continued kissing and licking your clothed pussy, his touch so intimate yet so teasing.

“please..” you mumbled out, your words a soft whine as your hips jerked into his face subconsciously, toes curling in from the lustful desires you tried containing.

he let out a short chuckle, the sound sending vibrations that you felt deep into your core. "mm?.. please what?" he mumbled against your folds, his tongue moving in a slow and torturous lick over the shape of your pussy, still only ever through the cotton covering it. it was like the taste of you was something he wanted to savor for as long as possible, instead of indulging the impatient need that his actions were causing himself as well.

“take it off..." you mumbled out between whimpers and pants, your heart pounding in your chest and hands itching to just take the last piece of cloth blocking his pleasure off yourself.

your needy voice had its desired effect, as riki took a moment to move back and hook two of his fingers under the elastic of your panties, pulling them down with a swift motion and tossing them in the same direction your pants had ended up in. he leaned back down, resuming the space he’d previously taken between your legs and looking at your naked, already leaking, pussy with hungry eyes.

you exhaled a small sigh at the feeling of your heat meeting the cool atmosphere of the room. your head tipped back, legs spread open so deliciously, like an invitation for a feast riki would devour.

and devour it he did. riki practically lunged forward, hooking his hands under your thighs to hold them apart. his hair trickled against your stomach the way he practically buried his face between your legs, his tongue lapping your bare, slick folds.

“riki..” you mewled out his name, hips jerking forward at how he suddenly began eating you out with such intensity. you gripped onto his hair, panting as your thighs instinctively bucked together, despite riki's hold on them.

he growled, his long hands finding your knees and hooking them over his shoulders as he continued sucking on your folds. he hummed in satisfaction at the uninterrupted access the position brought him, bringing one of his hands to slide his middle finger into your pussy, his tongue lapping around its outsides.

the intrusion had you clenching around him, your lower lip nearly bruised from how hard you were biting down on it. you gasped when riki slid in another finger, his tongue beginning to suck against your erect clit.

he gently thrust his middle and ring finger into you at a soft, but deep pace, his throat creating hums that shot pleasures of vibrations up your spine. the thick and long calloused fingers of his hand reached spots into you that seemed to show you utter heaven. the lewd squelching sound of his fingers penetrating your wet hole, paired with his hums and loud sucking had you rolling your eyes to the back of your skull.

your hips jerked forward, almost grinding your them against his face. you moaned at the feeling of a knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach, legs trembling at the way he pleasured you so slow and soft, yet so incredibly sensuous. riki couldn't hide how worked up he himself had gotten from pleasuring you, given how he’d subtly began rolling his hips into the sheets below as an attempt to relieve the aching erection in his pants with some friction.

“riki.. fuck- i’m gonna..” you barely manage to let out a quiet warning before he suddenly pulled away, his naturally thick lips glistening with your juices, a dark look of lust mixed with love in his eyes. before you could question why he suddenly halted, the way he shifted off the bed and stood on the floor to frantically rid himself of his sweats and boxers was enough of an answer.

the knot in your stomach had subsided at the sudden loss of his stimulation, but you bit down on your lower lip in anticipation when at the sight of his cock springing out, his angry red tip decorated with a bead of precum bouncing off his muscular abdomen.

he wordlessly climbed up onto the bed, resuming hovering over you and aligned his erection with your pussy. with a groan, he slid himself into you, his hands finding yours and interlocking with it as he held them pinned on either side of your head.

you cried out a moan in utter pleasure, your hands squeezing his as you took his girthy length in.

“god, baby..” he grunted, digging his face into your chest as he began thrusting into you, his pace slow, but his proud length allowing his tip to penetrate deep enough to nudge your cervix and show you stars.

“oh, riki, it feels so good..” you whimpered out, head thrown back in pleasure at the way he fucked you so softly, almost lazily but so, so deep. you clenched around his length with every thrust, the trickle of his hair against your chest becoming a sensation you weirdly found pleasure out of.

“i got you, baby.. you’re doing so good for me..” he whispered sweetly, his own body feeling like it was on fire at the way your velvety walls closed in on his sensitive cock. riki lifted his head up from the crook of your neck to make eye contact, his face hovering right above yours as he whispered gruffly while simultaneously fucking you. “tell me you’re close..”

“i am..” you almost immediately responded, having approached your orgasm faster than usual due to the intense pleasure his tongue gave you previously. when riki let go of one of your hands and brought his free hand down to circle his fingers over your swollen clit, it was your final straw.

with the last cry of his name, you released your sweet nectar onto his shaft, the liquid forming rings around its base. your orgasm triggered his own, and with a final thrust, riki buried himself deep into you, shoots of his white seed coating your insides, all while holding eye contact.

he remained inside you for a few seconds as the two of you panted, cherishing the dopamine your orgasms had brought. he carefully slid his softening cock out of you, and closed the distance between your parted lips with his, capturing them into a tender kiss.

he brought his hands to hold your waist, his lips lapping against yours in a soft kiss you’d learn to revere for the rest of your life. he pulled away, smiling at how considerably relaxed, satisfied and even glowing if riki did say so himself you looked. ik this is kinda mid but last fic before exam hiatus (rahhh) reblog and comment!! 👉🏻👈🏻 🎀