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tojiscumdumpster · 1 year ago

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⠀ ⠀⠀ "unwanted" MATRIMONY

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀byakuya kuchiki.

✧ summary to preserve the existence of y/n's clan, she is forced to wed the twenty-eighth head of the kuchiki clan—byakuya kuchiki.

✧ content warnings reader is described as a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. clanhead!reader x captain!byakuya. bleach verse au (no manga spoilers) byakuya is a noble, so they'll both be speaking as such. lowkey giving royalty au vibes. told in first POV — reader's. tropes included: arranged marriage, childhood rivals to lovers. usage of c*nt, missionary position, fingering, nipple play, praise and breeding kink, primal play, terms of endearment — blossom, my love, etc. plot with smut, fluff, and a touch of angst if you squint hard enough. lengthy, but the build up is worth it and necessary!

✧ author's note i don't have much to say, but here's to adding more bleach men to my roster. i knew i wanted to write for byakuya because that's my baby daddy, and now i finally have this idea i hope you guys enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. i would greatly appreciate it. ♡ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS - DO NOT INTERACT.

I must make my days do, lazing around in my private chambers as I am bound to a marriage I wanted no parts of. Especially not with Byakuya Kuchiki.

Lord Byakuya, as he prefers me to call him.

Because I am the current and possibly the final head of the L /N Clan, I am forced to complete my duties as such. Those duties entailed me following through with my grandparents final wish: get married and keep our family name alive.

Which I have no issue with fulfilling.

My dreams are filled with having children with a man that loves me. To extend our family and grow old together where our souls will find each other in another life.

However, I hadn’t planned my marriage to be an arrangement that I wasn’t aware of because of an agreement our grandfathers had prior to me being born.

It’s shocking, honestly. More so, ludicrous for them to think this was okay. But I just couldn’t deny my grandfather. Not when his palm was in mine, lacking its warmth that’s usually there due to his near passing.

I remember tears staining my cheeks and a smile gracing his when he made his final request for me.

That was two years ago. Now, I am married. Have been for almost a year and every day I dread my decision.

How could I possibly wed a man as cold as Byakuya Kuchiki? We barely speak. We sleep in separate chambers. The most we see each other is during dinner because it would be ridiculous to have the servants prepare us food at different times. But even so, the silence and tension always remains deafening.

And to make matters worse, we have yet to consummate our marriage.

This is something I cannot possibly do on my own. He may or may not be attracted to me, and I am convinced to assume the latter because he never utters a look in my direction.

It’s shameful how he treats me. The words he spoke to me the night of our ceremony is a constant memory I do my best to forget but cannot.

I’m officially married. Not the way I expected to be, but what other choice do I have? Grandfather has died and I made a promise to him to marry and bear children to keep the L /N Clan everlasting. Even if that meant being forced into marriage with my childhood rival.

As we sit side-by-side next to each other, bowing and thanking all of our guests for their blessings, I feel the coldness radiating off Byakuya. Of course, one of us has to be graceful and fake smiles while greeting everyone, so I am left to the task.

Byakuya? He doesn’t hide how dissatisfied he is with how this night is going.

To an extent, I understand. Forcing to wed after the loss of his wife, Hisana, is not ideal. Despite it being centuries since her soul has passed, I’m almost positive the heartbreak is still present.

Maybe tonight reminds him of her?

“Byakuya—what is the matter? Is everything alright?” I inquired. I turn to face him and await a response.

The squareness of his jawline catches my attention and I think how it was carved by the gods themselves. I’ve known Byakuya since we were both children, and seeing the fine man he has grown into today never ceases to amaze me.

His profile is… beautiful. I’m mesmerized by the softness of his pale complexion and how it contrasts with the darkness of his raven colored locks.

The further I stare at him, the more heat floods underneath my cheeks and my mouth watering at the sight of his beauty.

But when he finally speaks, all of the emotions I’ve felt have completely diminished.

“Do you feel no shame being forced into a marriage where your partner feels nothing for you?”

Since then, I’ve kept my distance from him. I remember the pain that pinged my chest when processing the words that left his mouth. I remember rushing to my chambers after the ceremony and crying until it felt like a million shards of glass were piercing them.

Yes, I feel ashamed. But I never expected Byakuya to be so direct with me. He’s certainly not the young boy I remember growing up with. Where we would make everything into a competition.

Our swordsmanship. Our knowledge. Our abilities. Whatever can be turned into a challenge for us, Byakuya and I competed.

That led him to be a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki Clan. And me, the twenty-third head of my family. I initially wanted to enter the Shin’ō Academy along with Byakuya, but I chose to stay with my family and oversee our medicine and agriculture.

However, even when he entered the academy, he always made time to see me because we were friends before any juvenile competition we made.

So why can he not see his wrongdoings in our marriage? Could he at least try for the sake of me fulfilling my duties?

All that keeps me company are movements of the servants coming in and out of my chambers, along with the river that flows past my view.

As always, dinner is silent.

Byakuya has returned to the manor after attending his captain duties, and this is the only time of day where I see him. He is stripped from his formal wear and has been dressed in a simple dark blue yukata that has specks of cherry blossoms scattered across the garment.

If I didn’t loathe him so much, I could take my time appreciating how handsome he looks while being in the comfort of his manor. His locks are released from the kenseikan he wears that symbolizes his nobility as the head of the Kuchiki Clan.

I occasionally steal glances at him while he eats, and yes, while I do despise being in this forced marriage just as he does, I can’t help but be captivated by him.

My lady parts wouldn’t allow me to deny the attraction.

As I watch my beloved husband, I think of all the sexual acts I would like for him to do to me. Please me in ways I could only imagine he can do. Make love to me and whisper in my ear how breathtaking I am.

When I look at Byakuya, I think of all the times I’ve spent time with Lady Kyōraku and she tells me how madly in love she is with Captain Kyōraku. How well he treats her, and even with his demands in his new position, they spend much quality time together.

She even graced my ears with a few details about a picnic session they recently had where it led to activities that typically aren't done out in public.

I wonder if my husband will ever be reckless enough to do an act as obscene as that.

Not likely.

I hate quiet, especially while we eat together. What is the purpose if no words will be spoken amongst each other? No eye contact. No going to bed together after we have finished. Why?

Why am I not able to be served dinner in my private chambers? Surely, I can make a request for this going forward.

Or… perhaps there is a different way for me to get him to speak.

I take a sip of my cremè sake before clearing my throat. “How did your day treat you, my lord?”

“It was fine,” he responds, flatly. Should I be shocked that he didn’t lift his chin when speaking to me?

“There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

“It can wait. I’m not up for discussion at the moment.” His dismissive tone has annoyance leaching onto my flesh, and I feel like I am on the verge of exploding.

“Perhaps it cannot. I would like to discuss something with you, my husband.” The authority in my voice grabs his attention and finally, he looks up at me and catches my hardened gaze.

He deeply sighs, sitting down his bowl of rice and chopsticks. “What is it?”

“Maybe we should… begin the process of annulment.”

His face remains calm. Expressionless, like I always remembered. Does he care enough to show a reaction to me asking for a cancellation of our marriage?

This shouldn’t be a difficult decision for him, so why is he taking his time to respond?

The longer I wait, the more his lack of response bothers me. It’s not similar to before, where the quiet was filled by the sounds of us eating and the servants coming in to check on us.

No, it’s the silence where if he does not speak, I will make the decision for him and walk out and permanently leave the manor.

I think of all the conversations I’ve had with Lady Rukia, his younger sister. And Renji, his lieutenant, about how I should be patient with Byaykuya. That, eventually, he will come around and warm up to me being his wife.

But how long?

How long would it take for us to share a chamber? For us to act like we’re in this agreement together? For him to look at me with the same attraction I have for him?

How long?

It possibly couldn’t be more than a year.

This is not the Byakuya Kuchiki I grew up with. No, I wasn’t in his life those five years he was wedded to Hisana due to my own family issues. Maybe I could’ve been there for him and witnessed his change that caused him to be so apathetic.

However, this cold man that sits before me… I don’t know who he is.

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?” He finally speaks, breaking me from my musings.

I draw my brows together, confused at his accusation. “Are you… insinuating that I am having an affair?”

“We’ve been wedded for a year. No acts of intimacy have been done between us. Now suddenly you—”

“Because of you!” My voice roars, interrupting whatever nonsense that he was about to spew.

I refuse to allow him to put the blame on me for the stillness in our marriage. I have tried, time after time, and all I am met with is a man that constantly rejects any type of advances I attempt to provide him.

So, I continue.

“I have given you a year, Byakuya,” I begin, standing over him. He looks up at me and again, his expression remains undetectable. “The day of our ceremony, I have accepted that I will be your lady, and on that night, I was prepared for consummation. But what did you do instead? Humiliate me in front of all our guests with your trivial question!”

My chest heaves an adrenaline I haven’t felt in a while. Maybe even never, however, leave it to Byakuya to rile me up this way.

“If you or anyone thinks I will bear children with a man that looks at me with utter disgust, then you all are sadly mistaken.” Are my last words to him before I rush out the supper room, tears threatening to fall, reminding me of the night we wedded.

I feel like such a fool. Disgrace descends upon me and my mind quickly goes to my grandfather and the words he spoke to me on his deathbed. Be strong, child, and fulfill your duties as the current head of the L /N Clan. Bear beautiful children with Young Byakuya and fall effortlessly in love.

Oh, grandfather. What am I to do? I can no longer stand to be in this marriage. Not like this.

Not with Byakuya.

By this time already, I had returned to my chambers and began preparing for bed. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me tonight, so some sleep will do me good.

But my suggestion of annulment will continue in the morning.

Just as I was moisturizing my body, a knock at the door interrupts my nightly routine and I immediately grow annoyed.

I know it isn’t one of the servants checking on me. They know when I don’t want to be bothered with. So that leaves the man that’s responsible for my current state of mind.

Ignore him, I say to myself. He’ll think I’m asleep and eventually leave. But no. He barges into my chambers, unannounced, and shuts the door behind him.

“Excuse me. I don’t recall giving you permission to en—”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” He asks, paying no mind to my protests. “Being… married to you.”

I turned my back to him and continued with the task I was doing before he interrupted. “Save me the boredom and keep it to yourself. No need to further remind—”

“For a year… I have been… fighting these emotions. These… feelings that have been forming in my chest at the thought of you being my lady.” His admission shocks me… but I remain quiet and stare at him intently through my mirror and allow him to finish. “Do you wish to know how I feel about you, Lady Y/N?”

My chest slowly heaves up and down and I hold eye contact with him. “How?” I breathed.

“You interfere with my routine. Daily… weekly… monthly. Just the thought of you has my mind spiraling.” He moves closer to me with every word he speaks. “A noble. A clan head such as myself, loses all sense of control with just a whiff of your scent. Your jasmine scent that drives me utterly insane. I simply cannot act with honor when I’m around you, so I purposely choose to ignore you.”

“But… why?” I questioned.

“Because you are you, my lady. You may think I don’t keep my eyes on you, but I do. All day… every day. I… watch you sit by the river and simply smile at the sight of nature. From a distance, I hear how kind you are when you speak to others. It’s… enchanting.”

I slowly release a breath and swallow a thick gulp. “So why is that you don’t speak to me? If I’m, as you stated, enchanting?”

“Speaking is not what I wish to do with you when we are alone,” he admits. Arousal rushed between my legs at the true meaning of his statement.

“It is hard for me to believe that you have an attraction toward me, Lord Byakuya.” As if my words triggered him, he takes long strides to close the distance between us.

“Perhaps it’s because you do not look at me the way you look at others. I, too, should be questioning your attraction toward me.”

I stand to meet with him, but fail miserably due his tall frame towering me. Still, I stand firm with my gaze. “Others such as who?”

“Shūhei Hisagi,” he deadpans.

“You’re being ridicu—”

“That smile… Your eyes… The look you give him… you have never looked at me that way before. He personally delivers the newsletter to our manor, which he doesn’t have to, but he does for you.”

“Are you… jealous? Of the small interactions I have with Hisagi a few times throughout the week?”

It is hard for me to believe that the honorable Byakuya Kuchiki himself is getting flared up over a platonic friendship between Hisagi and I.

Sure, there may be a chance he feels more for me than I know, judging by how his cheeks stain a light pink color when he delivers the newsletter.

But in no shape or form do I feel the same way, and I would never stoop as low as stepping out in my marriage. Even if my husband treats me like I am a fly on the wall.

Though, now, as he stands before me, slightly flustered, nostrils flaring, and a pinched expression—Byakuya is in fact—jealous.

I do not know how to feel about this, but I do know it is better than the distance I was getting before.

“Does this,” he grabs my hand to slip between us so I can feel his hardened erection, causing me to suck in a breath, “feel like I hold no attraction to you?”

“Byakuya,” I barely said above a hushed tone.

He presses his forward against mine, whispering, “Everyday… I curse myself for these feelings I have for you, to the point where I attempt to avoid you yet fail horribly because I can’t help but watch you from afar.” His hand gently runs up and down my arm, and this bit of contact burns warmth to my flesh.

“I feel wrong. Felt, wrong for having such feelings for you, knowing my late Hisana has passed away. I thought my heart went along with her illness, however, you returned to my life unexpectedly.”

I lick my lips before asking, “Are you saying you… love me, my lord?”

“I desire you, my lady. Crave you in ways that make me want to act animalistic.” His lips ghost over mine before he falls to my neck and inhales heavily. “I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to have you on my tongue. To hear you beg for me to give you more than what I am giving.”

“My lord… please.”

He shushes me. “Your beauty is beyond words. I have… never seen a rich, deep, golden brown complexion such as yours. You hold yourself with grace, but I know you’re a minx underneath these silk garments.”

He begins trailing faint kisses along my flesh until meeting with my face once more. I stare at him and take advantage of his ash-colored hues that resemble the sky on a cloudy day.

I don’t recall ever being this close in proximity to Byakuya. I’m enthralled by the smoothness of his skin and the color of his lips that reminds me of a thousand cherry blossoms.

I want to kiss him. I, too, also want to know what it feels like to have the taste of him on my tongue. Just—

“May I kiss you, Y/N?” The octave of his voice, slightly lower than usual, breathy with a touch of desperation… it does something to my core.

His cheeks flush red and my eyes widen at the sight of him. It feels like this is a fantasy, a moment I thought I would only see in my dreams. He is completely vulnerable, stipped down to where he forgets the formalities and calls my name. He is like this for me because of me.

When he is like this–I do not loathe him.

“You may.”

Byakuya gently presses his mouth against mine, our lips merely touching as if he is skeptical about what he is doing. He pulls back to look at me and I know desperation is shown on my face. And I know he feels the same.

How he engulfs my arm with his hand, applying immense pressure to show his desire for me tells me so.

My breaths are staggered. I’m thinking, what will he do next? Will he turn around and return to his chambers, regretting this moment ever happened? No. He does not.

He caresses my nose with his, breathing me in before meeting with my lips once more.

This time, he cuffs my face and deepens our kiss. My hands latched onto his wrist to hold him in place because I will not allow him to show any skepticism once again.

Byakuya takes his time exploring my mouth, but a touch of eagerness is shown when his tongue slips inside of me to get more. Heat hums throughout my body and I feel wetness pooling between my thighs due to the lack of under garments I am not wearing.

Is this what it feels like to kiss him? Is it normal for my limbs to grow weak? As if he read my thoughts, he sweeps me off the ground and wraps my legs around his waist. Our heads move side-to-side in unison while we devour each other’s grunts and moans.

We head in the direction to my futon and ever so lightly, he lays me down and pulls away from me.

“Strip for me.” His order is soft but filled with dominance I can’t be anything but submissive to.

I untie my silk robe, slowly until it falls off my shoulders and bares my body. His eyes… where I know Byakuya to be calm and collective during battle, right now a beast rages through him, and I am his prey that he is ready to feast on.

My legs spread, revealing my sex that is moist beyond measure. A growl forms in the pit of Byakuya’s stomach and it spreads chills down my spine.

He palms my breasts while gazing at me and I shudder from his touch. I could believe that this is in fact a dream, but it is not.

No longer than a second later, and he pinches my nipple between his fingers.

“My lord,” I softly cried, arching my back.

“You are art, Y/N.”

“Address me as your lady,” I demanded.

“Apologies, Lady Y/N.” He leans forward to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Is there anything else you would like for me to do?”

“Strip for me as well,” I instructed, teasingly.

His yukata drapes low on his hips and I am met with his slender build. Squared shoulders. A trimmed waist. And an abdomen where I would enjoy rubbing my wetness along that leads to what will bring me pleasure tonight.

He stands to completely remove his garments and my mouth floods at the sight of him. His groin, hard and veiny, drips liquid that I’m yearning to taste.

Byakuya, as expected, is well trimmed, but leaves just enough hair, perfect to my liking.

He’s much larger than I imagined. A size I need time adjusting to, that’s for certain.

“Am I up to your liking?” He quips.

I hum, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “Perhaps.”

The smallest chuckle, almost faint, escapes his mouth. “Perhaps…” He mocks, catching onto the lie that I uttered.

He kneels down before me and sucks my lower lip into his mouth while he widens my legs even further to bring pleasure to my cunt. Those slender fingers, so long and delicate, slip inside of me and I mewl at the slight intrusion. He massages my walls as if he is exploring, attempting to familiarize himself with how I pulsate around his fingers.

I break our kiss to moan his name, and my lord takes advantage of the opening to plunge his tongue in the back of my throat and sink deeper into my cunt.

I never expected Byakuya to be well equipped with his fingers this way. Those same fingers that are used for battle are currently being used to bring me to my release.

Soon, his lips find the valley of my breasts where he leaves bruises on my flesh with teeth. I whimper so pathetically, shocking myself at the sound that leaks from me.

He sucks on my nipples greedily, like a starved man that’s hungry for his lover, and this time, I let out a moan of his name.

“Byakuya…”

He looks at me through his lashes and firmly grips my breast. “Remember, my lady. Address me as your lord.”

“I am sorry, my lord. Please… I can no longer wait. I want to come.”

“Where is that fire that was present earlier? Begging?” I clench around his fingers at the sound of him taunting me.

He flickers his digits quicker inside of me, pulling such obscene noises from my cunt that mingles with my moans and his praises in my chambers.

Byakuya, this time, does not kiss me. No, instead, he ogles me and gently holds my chin in place where I am forced to watch him deliver me a release I’ve been waiting a year for.

There was a time where I thought he didn’t have an ounce of attraction to me, and now here he is, pleasing me in a way I haven’t been before.

“Oh, Lord Byakuya… I… I’m about to come. I feel a release coming,” I purred.

“But I have barely touched you, blossom.”

I latched onto his wrist and rolled my hips to meet his fingers thrusting inside of my cunt. “I—I know. I’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

“You’ve fantasized about me bringing you pleasure?” I nod, causing a small smirk to form on his lips. “Tell me more, Lady Y/N. What else do you want? Would you like my shaft inside your tight cunt?”

“Yes.”

“Tell you how breathtaking you look while being filled with me?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, Lord Byakuya.”

The faintest, most gentle kiss is placed on the side of my mouth and I feel the tension at the bottom of my stomach unraveling.

“Are you prepared to bear my children? To have my come flooding your cunt until it drips out?” He ghosts over my ear. “Will you take me?”

“Bya… kuya…” My orgasm suddenly crept onto me and I’ve created a mess on his hand.

I throw my head back and moan to the gods above. I can’t stop shaking and he continues to pump his fingers inside of me.

For a year I thought this man loathed me, but tonight I am proved otherwise.

Lord Byakuya has described himself as a madman when he is around me, and it is shown when he doesn’t permit me the time to come down from my release before guiding his cock to my entrance.

I look between us, anticipating the moment he enters my body and wondering how I will take him.

He attempts to push himself inside, but is met with interference and clicks his tongue. Frustrated at the constriction of my cunt because his cock is aching to feel my walls.

“I see she is as stubborn as you are,” he taunts.

I slyly smirk at him. “Giving up—Ohh…”

Byakuya does not allow me to finish my retort before giving me one long thrust between my folds to completely stuff me. My brows knits together at the slight intrusion and hint of pain that’s mended by my wetness.

I’m… stretched. How could he fit? He’s so… big. Large. I feel his veins pleasurably grazing me when he slowly begins to pull in and out. My cunt molds around his cock like he’s all she knows and I gasp with every movement.

My thighs are pushed back so he could see all of me, to see how I’m swallowing him whole. He swears underneath his breath and seeing Byakuya so vulnerable like this has me pulsating.

“You… are amazing, my lady. This cunt of yours… It's perfect,” he declares. “For a year you have been keeping this from me?”

“More, my lord. Give me a bit more.”

“So desperate for my come, are you?”

I eagerly nod and grip his forearms to take his pounding. He wastes no time acquiescing to my request, increasing his thrusts to pull such lewd noises from me.

I’m almost embarrassed by the loudness of my dripping sex. I’m practically making a mess on my futon and I’m mortified that the servants will need to replace my sheets.

Again, his mouth and hands are back on my breast, sucking and circling my nipples until they ache. Byakuya alternates between the two to show equal amounts of love and I have never felt so overwhelmed.

He drives into me with so much passion while marking me with his teeth and alleviating the pain with his tongue.

“When I breed you, you will be completely mine, my love. You will be full of me, carrying my child,” he rasps, rutting into me with more force. “How many will you give me?”

I gasped. “As many as you want, Lord Byakuya. Just please… make me come again. I feel it approaching.”

“So come for me, blossom.”

His thrusts are harsher than before. The head of his cock repeatedly presses my sweet spot and I feel the spark of electricity tingling in my lower back. My breasts are still occupied by his mouth, but they move obnoxiously with the rhythm of his poundings.

I cry his name, scream to my lord how wonderful this feels and tears prick the corner of my eyes. His free hand that was on my breast moves to thumb my clit to aid with my near release.

Byakuya moans soon joins mine to tell me how my cunt squeezes his cock, nearly strangling. And if it were to lose circulation, I would be the cause. But does he not feel how he throbs inside of me?

How he hopes to breed me so we will be bound for life?

“You asked me earlier… if I love you. Would you still like to know?”

“Yes, Byakuya. Tell me… do you?”

“I do,” he simply answers. “Since the day I saw you staring at the river and smiling at the water flowing. How could I not love you?” He brushes his lips across mine and lowers his voice. “How could I not love you after having you like this? Having your beautiful body, every dip and curve bare underneath me?”

“Lord Byakuya… I’m coming.”

“And you sound beautiful when my name drips from your lips. Continue calling me your lord until I have filled you with my come.”

Over and over, he rocks into me at a frenzied pace, causing my orgasm to burst out of me. Tears stain my cheeks and arousal prickles my flesh from my overwhelming release. However, Byakuya does not let up until his thrusts are uncoordinated, indicating his own climax.

Coming together as lovers for the first time after our ceremony has me seeing stars in my chambers. His load… it’s heavy. Hot and sticky. It mingles with my own come and creates a mess between us.

Lord Byakuya, too, is a vocal lover. He comes down from his own release and whispers how ethereal I am. How he would never grow tired of pleasing me and filling my cunt.

But it’s the delicacy of him brushing my coils away from my face and placing soft kisses on my cheeks that causes my heart to skip a beat.

An hour has already passed, and we have been basking in each other’s presence. His embrace is comforting. It provides me with a warmth that was well needed to fill the coldness beside me when I slept alone at night for the past year.

“I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence.

I know the reason for his apology, but ask anyway. “For what, my lord?”

“For the discomfort I have provided you since our engagement. You didn’t deserve that… Before anything, you were a dear childhood companion of mine and I treated you horribly.”

His kind words move me. I place my palm against his cheek and look up at him. “We can discuss it some more later on. For now, I would like to enjoy your company. Is that okay?”

He kisses the top of my head and pulls me further into his arms. “Of course, my lady… Of course.”

thank you for reading. reblogs, comments, and likes are well appreciated. if you enjoy my work, please be sure to check our my masterlist for more. ෆ

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samara444 · 5 months ago

Text

dont let all your pain go to waste

our life is not set in stone, it has been hard till now, so so so fucking hard. it doesnt have to be hard from now on. you have spent years crying, wishing, waiting, wanting, losing. but you do have a choice, by changing your assumptions, your beliefs, our feelings, you really can switch to having, loving, smiling, laughing, living.

it is possible for you IF YOU BELIEVE it is possible for you. dont let your bruised knees, and swollen wet eyes go to waste. dont let the years of crying, wanting, feeling lack, years when you tried so hard, when you persisted and never gave up....dont let those years go to waste.

your future self will be so fucking proud that you never gave up. that you never lost hope. im literally crying while writing this, but every time things that get hard, i am just reminded of little me who had so many hopes and dreams and how its my duty to fulfill her dreams.

how i cannot let the pain of little teenage me who persisted everyday, despite the worst circumstances. who affirmed, who forced herself to believe, who tried her best at that time, i cant let her pain go to waste. I WONT.

im sure most of us have spent a long time in our misery. but it DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT WAY. we have changed. as long as we dont give up. as long as you dont give up. all those hours, all those tears will be worth it.

and one day we are going to open our eyes, to our dream life, that little us would be so proud of, and you will be so proud that day, that no matter what happened, you persisted. you didnt give in to the 3d. the 3d is just a mirror that has NO WILL OF ITS OWN. it hasss to conform.

so keep going. you are doing great honey. you already are there. the day when you get to be happy, has finally come now. relax. breathe in. hold. breathe out. everything is going to be okay. and we have made it. and everything worked out just the way it was supposed to.

we did it. no more pain. no more regrets. just happiness and light. love and sunshine. laughter and love. now YOU can thank your past self and tell her - thankyou baby for always believing <3

-love, sam :')

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slightly-knot-insane · 5 months ago

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omfg congrats on your blog! truly deserve it

meanwhile let me get this outta my horny ass

stressed with work, you pray to any god who hears to take your troubles away

demon hears and demon takes

Thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy my little snippet for you.

[m!demon x gn!reader]

New Acolyte

You've never wanted to be a part of a strict religious cult. You were basically sold into it since your parents were too poor to feed and educate you. And now you spend your best years serving gods you don't even believe in. Even worse, you've been promoted to an acolyte and you run around and serve other members like a slave. You're the youngest and most disobedient - there is always work for such as yourself.

You sigh in front of the altar. Every evening you wipe it with a damp cloth and put three candles on top. Candles are sacred and can only be lit by higher members of the clergy. They pray every morning using these precious candles. They apparently have mystical powers and can fulfil wishes. High priests know what is the best for the clergy and what people need the most so only they can ask for favours from gods.

Your mouth twists into a scowl. What about what you need? These gods don't care that you desire so much more than these dark halls and chanting. This is no life to live!

Checking behind yourself to see if you're truly alone, you light the three sacred candles and kneel, saying your personal prayer. A truly blasphemous one. You are willing to do whatever it takes to escape this life. You don't care which god - if they even exist - does this.

"Just get me out of here!" You hit the floor with your fists, staring into the flames. They flicker once, twice, and a strong gust of wind blows them out.

"I hope you don't mind I'm no god." The voice behind you is deep and husky reminding you of lions purring. "But I can help you with your wish."

You don't dare turn around. Cold sweat covers your brows. You are in danger - something truly sinister is one step behind you. A long red arm emerges in front of you and gently takes you by the chin. "Turn around, young acolyte."

You have to obey. You fall on your soft behind because you tremble too much, but now you can see the creature that visits you. A tall, lean, creature. His eyes are fire and charcoal and his toned body a sinful shade of fresh blood. And he is completely naked.

"You said you would do anything to get out of here." His voice is strange, as if multiple people speak and echo. "I have a request." You are still trembling but you nod your head.

The demon's black and red cock (which you tried oh-so-hard not to stare at) erects as if on command. It is bigger than any human you've seen while sneaking around. So shiny and smooth. "Have you done this before?", he asks you.

You blush. "Only in dreams."

Demon smiles and two rows of extremely sharp teeth make you shiver. "Come here, and let me teach you."

You obediently crawl on the floor and reach the demons legs. His cock smells surprisingly nice, something like burnt caramel. You lick it - unfortunately it doesn't taste like any candy but it's not too bad either. Your inexperienced tongue twirls around the tip and you hesitantly plant kisses along the shaft. Demon strokes your head. "Very good. Now lick your palm and use your hand as well."

You nod again and do as instructed. Your hand moves up and down, jerking off the demon, and your pulse speeds up. It's not only excitement; you feel hot, like you have a fever. Your head and chest are burning. "Good little acolyte." Demon's voice is soft and he is towering you, a happy and terrifying grin on his face.

You are too hot! You have to remove all your clothes or you will melt! Without letting delicious demon cock fall out of your mouth, you remove all your robes and underwear. It barely helps - your skin could ignite any second! But it doesn't matter - this cock, this wonderous organ, exquisite limb - is all you can think about. Making it more wet, making it more hard, pleasuring it faster, more skillfully. Demon moans and his voices echo for a long time. "Acolyte..."

Some ethereal invisible hands touch your hot skin. They fondle your neck, back, nipples, stomach, slide between your thighs. You've never been touched like that. You shake from delight, never for a second letting go of that cock, working on that shaft with all your might. Demon's breath hitches and your mouth gets filled with sweet demon seed. Some of it end up on your naked body and you notice it's red like wine. The invisible hands are gone and you are left without release and soiled, excitement rushing through your veins. You need more.

"Please... Please... Take me... Don't leave me here..."

Demon smiles and touches your cheek with his sharp nail. "You are my acolyte now. I promised you new life. I'm not going anywhere without you."

#monster #monster lover #monster fuqqer #monster fucker #demon #demon lover #demon fucker #monster imagine #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #smut #monster x reader #monster x gn reader #x reader #slightlyknotinsane #ski.doc

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Text

Borrowed Time

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you do everything in your power to make your sick son’s dream come true but what you don’t realize is that meeting his hero will change all of your lives forever

Warnings: terminal illness and death

“You know what would be the coolest, Mama?” The soft voice of your son, Luca, breaks through the silence of the hospital room.

You brush a stray hair from his forehead, trying to coax a smile onto your face despite the weight in your chest. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“To meet Charles Leclerc. Just once. To tell him he’s my hero.” Luca’s eyes, though tired, gleam with that familiar spark every time he talks about Formula 1.

Your heart aches, knowing how much this means to him. “He is pretty amazing on the track, isn’t he?” You respond, reminiscing about the countless races you’ve both watched together from this very room.

Luca nods, holding his toy race car, a replica of Charles’ Ferrari. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He never gives up, even when things get tough. Kinda like me.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, making you marvel at his resilience.

You pull him close, tears threatening to spill. “You’re my hero too,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

He snuggles closer, murmuring, “I just wish I could meet him, Mama. Tell him he gives me strength.”

You take a deep breath, new resolve settling in. “You never know, my love. Miracles happen.”

The determination you feel is like a roaring fire and you silently vow to make Luca’s dream come true. No matter what it takes.

***

As the evening shadows stretch across the hospital room, you find yourself deep in thought, racking your brain for any means to make Luca’s wish a reality. You think about reaching out on social media, starting a campaign, anything to catch Charles Leclerc’s attention.

You start by posting on your personal pages: a heartfelt message accompanied by a picture of Luca holding his toy race car, the walls of his room adorned with posters of Charles racing. #LucaMeetsLeclerc, you caption it, hoping against hope that the message reaches the right eyes and ears.

The following days are a whirlwind. Friends, family, and even strangers share the post, and the hashtag starts trending in your community. Messages of support flood in and local news channels express interest in Luca’s battle.

One evening, after reading Luca a bedtime story, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s an email from a name you don’t recognize but the subject line sends your heart racing: A Special Meeting.

Opening it hastily, your eyes skim over the words:

Dear Y/N,

I represent Charles Leclerc. We were deeply moved by Luca’s story and would like to arrange a meeting ...

Tears blur your vision and you can’t help but let out a soft sob of relief and joy. Luca, hearing your cry, looks up at you with curious eyes. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

You pull him into a tight embrace, trying to convey all the love and happiness you feel. “Sweetie,” you whisper, pulling back to meet his gaze, “I think your dream might just come true.”

Luca’s eyes widen and his smile lights up the room brighter than any lamp ever could. The journey to fulfill a lifelong dream has just begun.

***

The hospital room feels heavier than usual. The rhythmic beeping of monitors fills the silence as Luca plays absent-mindedly with his race car on the bed. Just as you are about to suggest a card game, a knock interrupts the monotony.

“Come in,” you call softly.

The door opens and to your astonishment, Charles Leclerc himself steps inside, a shy smile gracing his features. He seemed different than on the TV — more human, more vulnerable.

“Ciao, Luca,” Charles greets, his voice gentle.

Luca’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “You ... you’re real.”

Charles chuckles, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “Last time I checked, I am. Your mom tells me you’re quite the fan.”

Luca nods vigorously. “You’re my hero. When you race, I feel like I’m flying. Free from this …” He gestures vaguely at the hospital equipment surrounding him.

Charles’ eyes soften. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But, you know, you’re a hero too. Racing against challenges every day.”

You watch their interaction, touched by Charles’ genuine empathy. “Thank you for coming. It ... it means the world.”

Charles turns to you, a depth of understanding in his eyes. “When I read about Luca, I saw more than just a fan. I saw a fighter. Just like on the track, it’s the fights we don’t see that often matter most.”

There is a brief silence, filled with unsaid emotions.

Luca’s voice, trembling with emotion, breaks the quiet. “I have a question, Charles. How do you stay brave even when you’re scared?”

Charles takes a moment before responding. “I focus on the present. Fear often comes from thinking about what might happen. But in the moment, there’s a job to do, a race to finish.”

Luca looks thoughtful. “So, you mean I should focus on now and not think about ... later?”

Charles nods, placing a comforting hand on Luca’s. “Exactly. Live in the now and remember that every race has its challenges. It’s how we face them that defines us.”

Tears well up in your eyes, gratitude and admiration for Charles swelling within you. Here he was, not just a racing star but a beacon of strength for your son.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice choked with emotion.

Charles smiles, glancing between you and Luca. “No, thank you. Today, I met a true champion.”

***

“You know,” Charles begins, playing with the edges of the signed Ferrari cap he just gifted Luca, “I once met a kid, a bit older than you, at a race. He told me that every time he felt like giving up, he’d watch one of our races. Said it gave him hope."

Luca’s fingers trace the signature on the cap. “Is that why you race? For people like him ... and me?”

Charles leans back, gazing out the window for a moment. “Partly. But also for myself. Racing ... it’s my passion, my escape. It’s where I find my strength.”

You feel compelled to share your own perspective. “We all have our races, don’t we? For Luca, it’s here, fighting every day. For me, it's trying to be strong for him, even when I feel like falling apart.”

Charles looks at you intently. “It’s incredible the strength we find when it’s for someone we love. Your journey, your race, is just as important — is more important — than any I’ve been on.”

Touched by his words, you continue, “I watch you race. The precision, the dedication. It’s art. I want Luca to have something like that, something to pour his heart into.”

Luca chimes in, his voice soft, “I think I already have something. Watching races with Mama, it’s our thing. It helps me forget, even if just for a while.”

Charles leans forward, engaging Luca directly. “Then let’s make a promise. You keep fighting your race here and I'll keep racing out there. Deal?”

Luca’s smile is radiant. “Deal.”

There is a pause, a moment of reflection, before Charles turns to you. “You're an incredible mother. The strength you show, the love ... it’s palpable. And it reminds me so much of my own maman.”

You blink away tears. “We do what we have to for our children.”

He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “She would always say the same thing after losing my father. And sometimes, despite all the pain and struggle, we find connections, kindred spirits, who remind us we’re not alone.”

You smile, feeling a deep bond forming, not just between Luca and Charles but between two souls who understood the depth of love, sacrifice, and hope.

***

“I have a proposition,” Charles offers, the twinkle in his eyes belying the gravity of his words.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“How would you both feel about attending a race in-person? I can make sure Luca is comfortable and you both get the full VIP experience.”

Luca’s face lights up with hope and disbelief. “Really? I ... I’d get to see you race in real life?”

Charles nods, “Right from the best seat in the paddock.”

You hesitate, considering the logistics, the health implications. “I don’t know. It’s a beyond generous offer but Luca’s health …”

Charles raise a hand, preempting your concerns. “I’ve thought about that. We have top medical facilities at the track and I’ll make sure we have everything necessary for Luca.”

“You’d do that for us?” you whisper, the weight of his offer sinking in.

Charles leans forward, sincerity evident in his gaze. “I’ve won races, stood on podiums. But the race Luca is running, the courage he’s showing ... it’s unmatched. I want him to see a race, not just as a spectator but as a fellow racer.”

Luca looks up, eyes brimming with tears. “You make it sound like I’m a hero. But I’m just trying to get by, just trying to ... to live.”

“And that’s what makes you a hero,” Charles replies gently. “Facing adversity and pushing through, not because of fame or accolades but because of love, hope, and sheer will.”

You feel a lump in your throat, deeply moved by Charles’ words. “It’s not just race wins or trophies that make you a champion, Charles. It’s moments like this. Thank you. This means more than words can say.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, life is the most important race. And in that race, I’ve found two champions right here.”

***

In Monza, as you settle into the VIP area with Luca by your side, the excitement in the air is overwhelming in the best way possible. The roar of the engines, the sea of red flags, the bustling energy of the crowd — it is a sensory overload that fills Luca’s eyes with wonder.

“Monza is special, you know,” Charles whispers, kneeling next to Luca’s wheelchair, overlooking the historic Italian track. He slips off a red Ferrari bracelet from his wrist, its well-worn leather showing its age. “This was given to me when I first joined Ferrari. I like to think that it’s brought me luck ever since.”

Luca’s eyes widen, tracing the intricacies of the bracelet. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Charles smiles, “Today, I want you to hold onto my luck. Keep it safe for me, will you?”

Nodding fervently, Luca reverently holds the bracelet. “I promise.”

When Charles leaves to prepare for the race, Luca clutches the Ferrari bracelet to his heart. “Mama, did you see? He gave this to me. His lucky bracelet!”

You smile, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. He wants you to keep it safe. It’s a piece of his heart.”

As the race progresses, you both watch in awe as Charles’ navigates the twists and turns of the circuit. Your heart races with every lap, both as a fan and as someone who had come to know the man behind the helmet.

And then, the moment you’d never forget — a triumphant finish, Charles Leclerc taking the checkered flag. The Tifosi erupts into cheers, and during the celebration, you almost swear that Charles’ eyes find yours among the crowd.

Over the radio, his voice crackles through the airwaves, reaching not just the pits but into your very soul. “This one’s for Luca. Keep fighting, champ.”

Luca’s eyes widen, his hand clutching the bracelet even tighter. “Did you hear, Mama? He said it for me!”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Yes, sweetheart. He said it for you.”

The post-race interview is a blur of emotions. Charles, sweaty and exhilarated, is asked about the race, about his victory. But then he pauses, his gaze distant yet focused, his voice trembling with emotion.

“This win ... it’s for someone very special. A young friend of mine named Luca. He’s fighting a battle much tougher than any race and his spirit, his courage — it’s what carried me through today. Luca, this is all for you.”

***

The roar of the crowd has faded but the emotional high from the race lingers. You, Luca, and Charles head back to the hotel provided by Ferrari with laughter and memories of the day filling the conversation.

However, as the night passes by, a chilling silence envelopes the room. Luca’s breathing becomes shallow, his skin clammy. Panic bubbles up within you. The medical equipment that was always close by in the hospital is absent here.

You rush to his side, your hands trembling as you try to comfort him. “Luca, honey, stay with me. Breathe.”

Charles, witnessing the scene, feels a deep pang of fear and helplessness. “I’ll call for help,” he says, fumbling for his phone.

As you count the seconds for first responders to arrive, Luca’s weak hand reaches out, clutching Charles’ wrist. His voice, barely a whisper, shares a desperate plea. “Charles, if ... if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll look after Mama. She’s strong but she'll need someone.”

Charles, tears blurring his vision, nods, squeezing Luca’s hand reassuringly. “I promise. But you’re a fighter. You have to keep racing, okay?”

Luca manages a faint smile. “Always racing, Charles. Always.”

Emergency services arrive soon, the room transforms into a flurry of medical professionals and machines. Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you both watched, praying for a miracle.

Hours feel like lifetimes. When the medical team finally manages to stabilize Luca, the emotional toll is evident in every face in the room.

You approach Luca’s bedside, gently stroking his forehead. “You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart.”

Luca, though exhausted, manages a faint smirk. “Had to keep the race interesting, right?”

Charles, his voice choked with emotion, adds, “Every race has its challenges, remember? You faced this one head-on, just like a true champion.”

Luca’s eyes meet Charles’ own, a depth of understanding passing between them. “Remember your promise,” he whispers.

Charles nods, his gaze drifting to you. “Always.”

***

“You know, I’ve seen some tough races,” Charles begins, his gaze distant, “but nothing compares to what I witnessed last night. The strength, the love, the sheer determination.”

You sigh, exhaustion stamped across your face. “Every day is a race. Some days, the finish line feels close, other days it feels miles away.”

Charles takes a deep breath, his voice wavering slightly, “I ... I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through but I want to be there, for both of you. Luca asked me to look after you and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

You look up, surprised by the depth of his commitment. “You’ve done so much already. You’ve given Luca memories he will cherish forever.”

He moves closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not just about Luca. It’s about you too. Through this entire ordeal, the strength you’ve shown, the love … it’s made me see life in a different light.”

A silence envelopes the room, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring Luca.

“I’ve raced all over the world,” Charles whispers, “but I’ve never met someone who’s touched my heart the way you both have. I want to be there for you, for whatever you need.”

You blink back tears, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “It’s been so long since someone offered to share the load. I’m not sure I know how to let someone in anymore.”

Charles gently takes your hand. “One step at a time. Just like in a race. We face each challenge as it comes, together.”

A tear escapes, trailing down your cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

He brushes the tear away, his touch lingering. “No, thank you. For letting me be a part of your world and for showing me what real strength looks like.”

***

“Look at that,” Luca murmurs, pointing towards the sunset painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The three of you sit atop a hill overlooking the city, a picnic blanket spread beneath you.

Charles takes a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs. “You know, moments like this make me appreciate life even more. The simple joys, the beauty all around.”

You nod, taking in the serene view. “It’s easy to get caught up in the chaos and forget these moments exist.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with a mix of mischief and wisdom beyond his years. “You two sound like philosophers. All I know is that this sandwich tastes amazing.”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Always living in the moment, aren’t you?”

He grins. “That's the secret, Mama. We have to savor every bite, every sunset, every laugh.”

Charles, deeply moved, joins in. “You're right, Luca. In the races, I’ve learned that every second counts. It’s the same with life.”

Luca nods earnestly. “Exactly! You can’t rewind time. You can only enjoy it.”

The evening wears on with laughter, stories, and shared dreams. The three of you revel in the simplicity of the moment frozen in time.

As stars begin to sprinkle the night sky, Luca turns to Charles, a serious expression on his face. “Promise me something?”

Charles leans in, listening intently. “Anything.”

“Make more moments like this with Mama, even after ...” Luca's voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Charles squeezes Luca’s hand, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, champ. Moments full of love, laughter, and sunsets.”

Luca’s watery laugh has tears pooling in your eyes. “You know, when you look at the sunset, remember me. Remember this moment.”

You turn to him, tears now overflowing. “Luca …”

He smiles, a mixture of melancholy and contentment in his gaze. “I may not be here forever but I'll always be a part of these sunsets. A part of you.”

Charles, his voice a gentle whisper, adds, “And a part of me.”

***

“Mama?” Luca’s voice, frail and delicate like the gossamer wing of a butterfly, quivers with fear.

You lean in closer, grasping his hand between both of yours, heart heavy. “Yes, my love?”

He swallows hard, searching your eyes with his own clouded ones. “I’m scared, Mama. I don’t want to go.”

Tears blur your vision but you muster a brave smile for him. “I know, sweetheart. But remember our sunsets? Sometimes, the sun has to set to make way for a new dawn.”

Luca’s fingers weakly grip yours. “But what if it’s dark, Mama? What if it hurts? What if I’m all alone?”

Charles, unable to remain a silent spectator, interjects, his voice cracking with emotion. “You won’t be. It will be just like falling asleep. You’ll have the sunsets, the memories, and all the love we’ve shared. That light will never fade. We will always be here. I promise.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with tears but also a glimmer of hope. “Will you sing for me, Mama? The song from when I was small?”

Your heart breaks, remembering the countless nights you’d sung him to sleep. Taking a deep breath, you begin, your voice soft and lulling:

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray ...”

Luca’s breathing slows, his grip on your hand loosening.

“You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don’t take

My sunshine away.”

As the final note leaves your lips, Luca’s chest rises gently one last time, then stills. The room is silent, save for your heart-wrenching sobs.

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you as you crumple into him, your world shattering. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, tears streaming down both your faces.

***

The somber quiet of the funeral is punctuated by the soft cries of mourners. The backdrop of gentle flowers contrast starkly with the weight of the grief in the air.

Charles stands next to you, holding a polished helmet, the vibrant colors of his Monza race-winning headgear gleaming under the sun. He turns to face you, eyes red-rimmed.

“This,” he starts, voice choked, “is my helmet from Monza. The race we won together. He was my co-driver that day, in spirit.”

You take a shaky breath, reaching out to touch the helmet, feeling its cool surface, the memories of that day flooding back. “He would’ve been so proud to have this.”

Charles nods, tears streaming down his face. “And this,” he says, taking the Ferrari bracelet off his wrist, “he held onto it for me once. I ... I want him to have it. To keep it safe.”

You clutch the bracelet, feeling its familiar weight, the leather still warm from Charles’ wrist. “It meant the world to him. And to me. Thank you.”

The two of you stand side by side, staring at the small casket adorned with flowers and memories. The embodiment of a life cut short but filled with love and unforgettable moments.

Together, you place the helmet and bracelet inside, a final tribute to a young racer whose journey had inspired so many.

“He’s free now,” Charles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Racing in the skies, no pain, no limits.”

You nod, tears flowing freely. “Our little champion, forever.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, both of you finding solace in each other’s warmth. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, carrying with it the memories of a brave soul, forever remembered, forever missed.

***

The familiar crest of the hill looms ahead, the very spot where laughter and dreams once danced in the wind. You and Charles reach the top, the vast expanse of the horizon stretching out before you. The setting sun casts a golden hue, much like that unforgettable evening a year ago.

Charles lays down a blanket, reminiscent of that day, and the two of you sit, lost in memories. The silence isn’t empty — it’s filled with remembrance of a young boy’s laughter, his dreams, his courage. The hole he left behind in your hearts.

“Do you ever feel,” Charles hesitantly cuts through the quiet, “that Luca is still here with us, watching these sunsets?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “All the time. Every time I close my eyes under the setting sun or look up at the sky, I feel his presence.”

Charles takes a deep breath, struggling with his emotions. “I’ve been thinking about a way to honor Luca. To keep his spirit alive.”

You turn to him, eyes questioning.

“A foundation,” Charles begins, “In Luca’s name. To help children with terminal illnesses and their families. To give them hope, love, memories.”

You feel a rush of emotion, a tidal wave of love and loss. “He would have loved that. To know he’s making a difference even now.”

Charles nods, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘It’s not just about the financial help. It’s about the moments, the memories. The sunsets and the picnics. The dreams and the hopes.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, drawing strength from the bond you’ve forged. “We’ll do it together. For Luca.”

The sun slowly dips below the horizon. As the first star appears, a sense of peace envelops the two of you. In the heart of sorrow, a new purpose is born, ensuring that Luca’s light continues to shine, guiding countless souls out of the darkness.

***

The sun sets in a blaze of colors, casting a warm glow over the hill that has become a symbolic memorial. Charles and you sit side-by-side, hand-in-hand, watching the bittersweet horizon.

A small voice breaks through the silence. “Mama, Papa, why do we come here?”

You turn to your daughter, a smile tugging at your lips. Lucia, with her curious eyes and radiant smile, is a constant reminder of love and life renewed.

“We come here to remember someone very special,” Charles explains gently, his eyes, so similar to your daughter’s, filled with tenderness.

Lucia looks at you both, a hint of understanding in her innocent gaze. “Luca?”

You nod, voice soft. “Yes, sweetheart. Your big brother. We come here to celebrate him, to tell stories about him, and to show him how much we love him.”

Lucia frowns slightly. “But I never got to meet him.”

You stroke her hair, your heart aching and swelling simultaneously. “He’s always with us, in our hearts. Just like you are.”

Charles leans down, wiping away a tear that escapes your eye. “And you’re named Lucia after him, to carry his memory forward.”

Lucia’s eyes light up, smile shining bright. “I’m like a part of him?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “A part of him lives on in you. In all of us.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the world in twilight, you hold each other tightly, a family united by love, loss, and the enduring spirit of a young boy whose legacy lives on in every sunset, every star, and every beat of your hearts.

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guiltyasdave · 6 months ago

Text

gold rush

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Dave York

word count: ~5.1k

summary: “You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone.

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel.

“So do I.”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be tugged, no use of y/n, kinda dom!Oberyn&Dave but they're just bossy really, unprotected p in v (which you shouldn't do with someone you just met), oral m&f receiving, threesome, a bit of m/m action but reader is the main character here, dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), praise kink, these three are freaky and i'm sure that i forgot something, if so please let me know <3

takes place in my modern!Oberyn universe but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: my plan was to write this for @secretelephanttattoo's secret springs event, which i'm criminally late to (i'm sorry, el!), but that is where the idea for dolphin tour dave came from. i didn't expect to go this feral with it lol

big hugs and thank you to @jolapeno for letting me cry about the complications of writing threesomes and figuring out the plot (read: positions) with me and @sizzlingcloudmentality for listening to me complain about this nonstop and gushing over the million snippets i sent and taking me seriously when i came to her with “i have an important question about giving head”

i'm very grateful that so many people seemed excited about this idea, i hope that it's everything you wished for and that you have a good time reading it!

dividers by @firefly-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Waves are lapping against the boat’s hull, the ocean reflecting the soft orange and golden hues of the sun setting over the horizon.

You’re leaning against the railing, relishing in the warmth that has sunk into your skin from the day on the water. A beaming smile seems to have permanently settled on your features after today’s trip, a cruise around the shore that resulted in fulfilling one of your lifelong dreams — getting to see dolphins in the open water, watching them race through the waves right beside you, their fins breaking through the surface.

You had squealed, unable to contain your excitement, committing every second to memory. A once in a lifetime experience, making this trip to Secret Springs one of the best vacations you’ve ever had.

With the shore now rapidly approaching again, you’re drinking in your surroundings for the last few minutes, committing the whole day to memory, until it’s time to set foot on the mainland again.

However, your gaze keeps flitting back to the man steering the boat, who had been introduced as Dave and your captain for the day by the tour guide when you first boarded. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of him all day, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his biceps was straining against the seams of his light blue t-shirt, the sharp jawline and the quiet concentration and competence that he exuded.

Contrary to the tour guide, who kept chatting away, his mouth remained shut, full lips pursed, jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes were piercing, keeping track of every movement, both out on the water and on the boat. There was no way he hadn’t noticed your staring, with the way his eyes had met yours a few times, his lips curling into a small smirk each time before he turned away again.

Your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you from behind, his chin hooking over your shoulder. Hot breath fans against your skin, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching over your cheek as he places a swift kiss there.

He follows your line of sight, an amused rumble from his bare chest vibrating against your backside.

“You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone.

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel. He kisses you again, longer this time, lips lingering on the soft skin right behind your ear, his tongue catching a taste of the salt that has seeped into your whole body after the day of the water.

“So do I.”

You giggle, sinking deeper into his embrace.

Dave is closed off at first when you walk up to him after he’s the last person to step off the boat. His jaw firmly set, giving the same air of quiet confidence that you’ve felt drawn to all day, but his fingers are twitching at his side when you approach him, his eyes flickering between you and Oberyn’s figure a few steps behind you.

“Hey,” you smile sweetly, not missing the way his gaze quickly trails down your body in your short summer dress, before it flies back up to meet your eyes. “We were thinking, as a local you know all the best places around here, right?”

A wry grin grows on his face at the term local, but he hums in agreement. “Sure. How can I help you?”

His voice travels right through you, deep and gravely, his words clipped with precision. Polite, but efficient. Entirely unlike Oberyn’s drawling purrs, but not any less intriguing. The cold exterior is drawing you in, challenging you to uncover what’s underneath.

“We wanted to go get a drink tonight, maybe you can show us the best spot for that?”

“Allow us to buy you one as well,” Oberyn chimes in from behind you, stepping closer and snaking one arm around your body. His hand comes to rest at your waist, sending warmth through the thin fabric that’s covering you. His thumb glides against the underside of your breast in a calculated movement, just short of grazing your nipple.

Even as you swallow down your responding whine, Dave’s gaze zones in on the movement, one eyebrow rising as his pupils dilate, his eyes turning darker. One corner of his mouth turns upwards.

He’s a quiet shadow moving beside the both of you, but he still keeps catching your glances at him, his pouty lips curling into a smirk each time.

The bar he takes you to is less crowded than the ones right next to the beach that you’ve already visited, and the drinks aren’t as overpriced, but just as delicious. There’s a large deck on one side, with twinkling lights strung up between the poles and the scent of the surrounding flowers wafting through the air.

Sinking into comfortable chairs in a corner, you sip on your drink and watch as Oberyn tries to get to know your companion better. He’s the more talkative one of the both of you, exuding the smooth charm and confidence that immediately drew you in when you first met him, but Dave doesn’t crack nearly as easily.

His answers stay short, every word from his lips calculated, no information about him given freely. Heat is already gathering between your thighs, just from watching them. Both their presences overwhelming in the best way, both of them making you want them.

It leaves you antsy, desperate to do something, something to be closer. You rise to your feet, extending a hand to Dave. “Dance with me?”

His eyes widen a fraction, looking from your outstretched hand to Oberyn, who hasn’t moved an inch. “You don’t want to?”

Oberyn smirks, settling deeper into his seat, a picture of relaxation, but the tension of underlying excitement sparkling in his eyes isn’t lost on you.

“No. I am enjoying myself right here.”

Dave seems to consider for another moment, before he shrugs and his hand closes around yours. You love the feel of it, the warmth of his skin sinking into yours where you’re touching, his fingers calloused and rough against yours. The sight of him leaves your mouth dry, the shades of his face in the dim light, the dark pools of his eyes. They’re exactly the same shade as Oberyn’s, but where Oberyn is familiar, his eyes telling stories of love and joy every time he looks at you, like a warm bath that you can sink into, Dave’s eyes are like steel. Cold. Watchful. Not any less interesting.

You start dancing, moving your body to the beat that’s playing from the speakers, a sensual rhythm that makes it easy to get closer to him, to get a taste of how his body would feel against yours. Letting yourself get lost in the high of the day, in the soft haze of the alcohol in your veins, in the nervous energy that’s bubbling inside of you at the prospect of this new adventure right in front of you.

As you grind against him, one hand curls around your hips, strong and determined, effortlessly stopping your movements. The simple touch is enough to make your knees go weak, holding the promise of power, of everything you want from him. He firmly holds you where you stand, putting some distance between the two of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone is still clipped, challenging in a way that sends heat through you. You like the no nonsense attitude, like the way his eyes are firmly trained on your face, the spark of something darker in them that makes you want more.

“Dancing,” you pout, eyes widened in mock innocence.

“Don’t bullshit me. Your boyfriend’s right there, sweetheart.”

You turn to look at Oberyn, who’s already observing the both of you. He still seems relaxed, knees spread wide, lounging in his seat, but the hunger is burning in his expression. He teasingly raises an eyebrow at you and you return it with a grin, before your gaze finds Dave again.

You take a step closer to him, leaning in to whisper into his ear. A small shudder runs through him.

“He doesn’t mind sharing.”

The grip on your hips tightens, a low growl raising in Dave’s throat at your sudden proximity.

“Is that so?”

You nod quietly, trailing your fingers over his chest. “He likes it.”

His mouth is so close, close enough that you give in to the temptation and brush your lips against his. He growls again, louder this time, one hand curling around your neck to hold you right there as his teeth dig into your bottom lip. You sigh against his mouth, pliant under his grip, delighted at the change in his demeanor.

His touch travels higher, up your sides until he’s almost in reach of your breasts and you’re slowly unraveling, your body desperate for more.

“Having all the fun without me, princess?” Oberyn turns up behind you, caging you between the both of them, mouthing at your neck and you whimper into Dave's mouth.

“Thought— thought you were happy watching,” you gasp when he grinds against you and you feel his growing stiffness against your ass.

He bites your neck gently, and you shudder again.

A quiet look passes between the two men. You see the quiet question in Dave’s eyes, the evident satisfaction at what he finds in Oberyn’s, before he squares his shoulders and pulls up to his full height.

A pleasant shiver travels up your spine as you watch the silent exchange. They’re two sides of the same coin, the same kind of energy, all confident and strong, but channeled so differently. Where Oberyn is all smooth, flowing like water and wrapping himself all around you, all-encompassing but almost impossible to grasp, Dave is nothing but hard edges, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful. You want them both.

It’s dark in Dave’s apartment, only the faint glow from the moon and the streetlights filtering in through the windows. The rooms are almost eerily tidy, barely lived in. Your skin is still warm, both from the humid evening air outside and the heat that’s steadily growing inside of you at the prospect of what the night has in store for you.

Still, the space you just entered somehow feels cold, much like the man that it belongs to. Except that, right now, that man’s lips are finding your neck, sucking at the same spots where Oberyn’s mouth had been not too long ago, his tongue hot against your skin as he pushes you down the hall.

Your fingers reach for Oberyn instinctively, a silent breath leaving you when they intertwine with his. Feeling Dave on you is so new, so different, leaving you dizzy with excitement. He’s intense already, his touch demanding and firm, hands digging into your flesh as he steers you towards his bedroom. The anticipation makes you nervous, makes you long for the familiar touch of the other man to ground you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, two pairs of hands on you as you stumble into Dave’s bedroom. The interior is minimalistic, functional, no personal items that you can make out in the dark. No photos, not even a dried up plant on the windowsill. You briefly wonder what kind of person he is, outside of this. If he has friends, hobbies, what he does when he’s not working.

The train of thought dissolves when Oberyn’s mouth finds yours, his nose bumping into your cheek and his beard scratching against your chin. So similar to Dave’s kisses, and at the same time, not similar at all. One hand cups the back of your head, pushes you into the kiss, its touch vaguely unfamiliar.

Your eyelids blink open, catching Dave’s, whose gaze is dancing between the both of you, watching, raw hunger behind his dark irises. You flick your tongue against Oberyn’s, relishing in his responding groan, and in the way Dave’s eyes darken further, trained on your boyfriend now.

Oberyn pulls away, linking his hand with Dave’s that’s still resting at the back of your head. You’re hypnotized by the sight of both of them touching, even if just for a brief moment, before Oberyn places Dave’s hand on your shoulder, hooking the other man’s fingers under the thin strap of your dress.

Winking at the both of you, he saunters over to the bed, spreading out on top of the covers, an expectant glint in his eyes. He looks so good like this, so easily commanding every setting he finds himself in, the confidence surrounding him at all times. Your attention wavers when Dave tugs at the straps, goosebumps forming on your skin where his fingers skim over you.

He raises his eyebrows in question, toying with the fabric, waiting for your confirmation.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, excitement weighing out the flicker of nerves.

He nods, determination painting his features, the kind of calm assuredness that has you pressing your thighs together when he slides the straps off your shoulders.

The flowy dress lands in a heap at your feet, leaving you in just your panties, your breasts braless and already bare for him.

Dave’s eyes widen, a mumbled Fuck tumbling from his lips. A proud smirk passes over Oberyn’s features.

“She is just a dream, is she not?”

“She is,” Dave growls, his broad hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer.

“Touch her,” Oberyn’s voice sounds from the bed. “She likes being played with.” The casual authority oozing from his tone, paired with being talked about as if you’re not there, is almost enough to get the heat blazing through you to boil over.

“Does she now?” Dave murmurs, cocking his head and dragging his gaze down your body, purposefully slow. You start squirming when his fingers glide over your nipples, playfully tugging at the hardened buds. You whine in reaction, a needy sound that has both men chuckling. “Yeah, you do,” he coos, nipping at your throat. Your responding whine to the sharp pinpricks of his teeth is even louder this time.

His touch travels lower, skims over your stomach, stopping just short of your panties, beneath which you’re already dripping for him.

“May I?” It’s low, almost reverential. His gaze burns into yours, glinting darkly when you nod, a please, Dave falling from your lips.

He finds you wet with slick, the fabric covering you completely soaked through, a moan breathy and high in your throat when he rubs at you through the fabric.

“Please, more,” you whimper, all dignity lost to the hope of what it might feel like to have his thick fingers inside of you soon. His lips chase your mouth as he pulls your panties to the side, swirls a finger through your wetness and up to your clit. Your moan comes out muffled, licked out of your mouth by his tongue.

You grab at his t-shirt, eagerly pulling at the hem, desperate to see all of him, to feel all of him. He helps you pull it over his head, exposing his upper body, all wide shoulders and massive chest, to your hungry eyes. You’re overcome with the need to touch him, the fire burning inside of you fueled by how strong he feels, how his muscles are flexing under your exploring fingers.

In the lack of light, it takes a second until it catches up to you that his torso is littered with scars, white lines that shine dimly, skin that’s uneven under your touch. There’s a particularly large cut near his left collarbone, one that you mindlessly trace with a finger, until his hand closes around your wrist in a harsh grip. He pulls it away abruptly, the look on his face bordering on dangerous.

Your whispered sorry isn’t met with an acknowledgement. His eyes close and open with a deep exhale before he meets your gaze again, pointing a curt nod towards the bed.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

You’re quick to obey, even more eager to please now, the harsher demeanor only driving your arousal to new heights. Dave’s hands span over your ass as you lock eyes with Oberyn. Your boyfriend has already rid himself of his clothes, languidly stroking his cock and regarding you with a teasing smile.

The sight has you clenching with need, knowing how much he loves seeing you like this, knowing how much his pleasure grows from seeing yours, from being able to give you this.

Behind you, Dave pulls your panties down your legs, leaving you naked and on full display for him. A deep moan escapes him at the sight, spurring you on to arch your back a bit more as you turn your head to look back towards him. He’s staring, the weight of it heavy on your bare skin.

“Such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he rasps, before he kneels down behind you and licks a broad stripe through your folds. His groan at the taste reverberates through you, your slick flooding his tongue, your whole body pulsing with need, each lick sending a new wave through you.

When his tongue lets up on its ministrations and he sinks two fingers into you instead, thumbing at your clit, you cry out in pleasure at the sudden sensation. Your eyes find Oberyn again, touching himself more urgently now, keeping eye contact with you. He’s still smiling.

It’s impossible to take anymore, impossible to bear not feeling full for another moment, the stretch of Dave’s fingers not nearly enough. “Please,” you whine, turning towards him again, “I need you to fuck me. Please.”

Dave chuckles darkly.

“Need it, huh?”

You don’t mind the condescending tone, don’t mind how desperate it makes you look, you just nod, silently pleading with him to have mercy on you. He indulges you, lets you watch eagerly as he takes off his pants and his cock springs free, thick and heavy and everything you need right now.

A moan leaves you at the sight, earning you a smug grin from him, before he steps closer. You feel him nudge at your soaked entrance, one hand resting on your hip while he’s taking his time to tease you. Helplessly, you grind against him, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him.

“Give it to her hard,” Oberyn purrs, leaning forward to cup your face. “I want to hear her scream.”

You’re still shuddering from his words when Dave finally sinks inside you with one sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. He gives you no time to adjust, immediately sets a punishing rhythm. It jostles your whole body, would push you up the mattress if he didn’t pull you back onto him by your hips.

It hits just as deep, stretches you just as wide as you wished for, screams and sobs of his name falling from your mouth as raw pleasure is spreading through you like wildfire.

Oberyn’s mouth is on your lips, on your whole face, drinking your pleasure straight from the source.

“Is he as good as you imagined, princess?”

You can only whine and nod, incoherent babbles of yes, fuck yes the best that you’re able to manage.

“Do you hear that?” he purrs, flashing a feral grin towards the other man. “She is feeling so good, so drunk on your cock that she can barely talk.”

He moves away from you, gets up from the bed and steps behind Dave instead, his hands gliding over the man’s shoulders, his eyes glued to where Dave keeps thrusting into you harshly. You can only imagine the obscenity of the sight based on the wet sounds that ring through the bedroom. With a quiet laugh and a pat on your ass, Oberyn shifts again. “I want a closer look.”

Rustling hits your ears, but when you crane your head to try and see what’s going on, Dave’s fingers tangle in your hair, forming a fist and pulling. It’s forcing your back into an almost painful arch and your head to point forward again. He leans over you, bringing one foot up on the mattress, growling into your ear while his cock somehow reaches new depths with the change of position.

“You focus right here. You wanted me so bad, huh? Pay attention to me, then.”

He plunges into you even harder, the sensations right on the pleasurable side of overwhelming. You twitch violently in his grasp when another touch reaches you, the familiar feeling of Oberyn’s tongue teasing at your clit all of a sudden, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching against the sensitive flesh. His chuckle at your reaction vibrates against your pussy, causing you to writhe between them, pushing back against Dave’s thrusts while trying to chase Oberyn’s mouth at the same time.

Dave groans at the way you’re tightening and twitching around him, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place. Oberyn licks and sucks at you, knowing your body better than you know it yourself, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy almost instantly.

“Getting so— fucking tight,” Dave grits out from behind you, landing a slap on your ass that has you squealing. The sharp bite of pain sends you tumbling over the edge, pulsing around his cock, still sheathed deep inside you. Your hands uselessly grab at the sheets, skin stretching over knuckles, anything to keep you grounded as pleasure burns its way through you.

Oberyn never lets up on his attention on your clit, soft licks and kisses that prolong the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re trembling, your head falling forward, sweaty forehead connecting with the soft blanket on Dave’s bed.

“Good girl,” Dave coos from behind you, one large hand gently rubbing over your back. “You’re doing so good.” He gives a tentative thrust, picking up his movements again when no protest of overstimulation comes from you. “You can give us more, can’t you?”

You manage a nod and a soft yes, your mind still too lost in the lingering haze of your climax, but your body is already responding to the sensations of his cock dragging through your tight walls again. He stretches you just right, reaches so deep inside of you.

“You are so wet, princess,” Oberyn’s voice sounds in your ears, his breath hot against your folds. “Tastes so sweet.”

His tongue moves away from your clit, licking through you, until Dave’s sharp intake of breath makes it clear that Oberyn has moved on from teasing just you.

“Is this okay?”

You know that your boyfriend’s question isn’t aimed at you, that he’s well aware how okay with this you are, but the husky drag of his voice has you clenching around the other man anyway.

“Fuck,” Dave groans, his thrusts slowing, chasing more than just your tight heat now. “I’ve never— yes. Yes, it’s okay.” Another breath. “Please.”

There’s more rustling, more movement between your legs, until Dave’s cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and wanting. You open your eyes, peering down at where Oberyn’s head rests on the mattress underneath you. His hand is wrapped around Dave’s cock, moving slowly, letting the other man adjust to the new experience.

You slide your own fingers down, tangling in his hair, chasing the connection between all three of you. Your eyes meet for a moment, burning hunger passing between you. Then Oberyn pulls on Dave’s hips and closes his lips around the head of his cock, shiny with precum and your arousal.

Both men’s voices float around you; throaty, needy sounds. Oberyn sucks Dave deeper into his mouth, and the grip on your waist tightens once more. You loosen your hold on Oberyn and prop yourself up on shaky arms to turn around again, desperate to catch a glimpse at Dave’s face.

He looks wrecked, teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyes pinched closed, his breath coming in pants, his bare chest shining with sweat. You reach for him instead, intertwining your fingers with the ones that had been holding on to your waist. His eyes fly open, a grin spreading over his face when he catches you looking at him. A grin that you eagerly return.

“We’re going to make you feel good, too,” you breathe. An emotion that you can’t place passes over his face, so quick that you almost think you imagined it. For just one second, he almost seemed vulnerable.

Oberyn chooses this moment to position Dave’s cock back at your entrance, where you’re more than ready to take him again, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, your walls engulfing him once more.

“Yeah, you are,” he growls, plunging into you again, the sudden return of the stretch forcing another moan and a fresh wave of slick out of you. He’s still holding your hand, pinning it against your lower back, jostling your body with every snap of his hips as if you were a doll. The deep thrusts hit your g-spot again and again, reducing you back to a babbling mess within minutes. The only words on your tongue are their names, mixed together by a string of pleads.

You miss the fullness, the drag of his cock each time he pulls out of you, but knowing that when he’s not filling your pussy, he’s in Oberyn’s mouth, is enough to keep your arousal burning until he sinks back into you.

A second orgasm catches up to you almost embarrassingly fast, pulsing around him and screaming your pleasure into the sheets. Dave fucks you through it slowly, keeps the high coursing through your body, until you’re nothing but quiet whines, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding you up.

“Shhh, princess,” Oberyn’s voice floats to you, his familiar touch grazing your legs. You watch hazily as he retreats from beneath you, directing your body until you’re lying on the bed, everything around you soft and warm like a cloud.

“Take a little break, yeah?” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips. “I’ll finish what you started.”

You watch in awe as his fingers trails over Dave’s chest, mesmerized as a shudder ripples through the other man, how he hesitantly but determined reaches out to Oberyn to return the touch. They’re a sight together, and you still want them both, still don’t feel sated.

With your eyes widening, you witness Oberyn slowly sinking to his knees in front of Dave. Seeing him in an act of such obvious submission is rare, the way he takes Dave deep into his throat, swallows him down.

His hands are on Dave’s thighs, where the muscles are flexing under his fingers, his fingers that are wandering up further, sliding over Dave’s ass, out of your line of sight. What you can see is how Oberyn’s eyes are trained on Dave’s face, gauging his reaction to the touches. You can see the pure ecstasy written over Dave’s features as he comes with a loud groan, the shuddering pull of his abs as he’s spilling his release into Oberyn’s eager mouth, the fingers tangled in his hair and holding him in place.

Oberyn lets out a satisfied rumble at the taste, a sound that adds to the insistent burning between your thighs. You reach out for your boyfriend, tugging at his shoulder.

“I want a taste,” you demand in a breathless voice.

Dave makes a sound like all air has been punched from his lungs, watching as if hypnotized while Oberyn leans towards you, cupping your jaw before he kisses you deeply. He’s licking into your mouth, sharing Dave’s taste with you, a taste that you can’t get enough of, your tongue tangled with his until he gently pulls away, calls you an insatiable little thing.

A laugh escapes Dave at that, sinking onto the mattress and pulling you into him. You melt into his touch, let him maneuver you until he’s leaning against the headboard with your back resting against his chest. He’s lazily toying with you, mouthing at your neck and gently circling your nipples, giving you the occasional tug to force small, high sounds from your throat.

You’re writhing against him, but your eyes are trained on Oberyn, who’s slowly advancing towards you. “Do you still want more, princess?” he coos, swirling a single digit through the slick between your legs, still overflowing with need.

“Please,” you sigh, parting your legs further, making room for him. He sinks into you easily, filling you perfectly, both your lips parted in pleasure. He rocks into you, pressing your body against Dave who’s holding you tight, still playing with your breasts and whispering into your ear.

“Dirty girl… You gonna give us one more?”

You’re overwhelmed by their touches, feeling so close to another high, their scent engulfing you, huge hands all over your body, a heat that’s about to scorch you. You think that you’re pleading with them, but you can’t be sure, can’t focus on anything but how good it all feels.

Oberyn leans forward, sinking even deeper into you, pressing your legs into your chest. “Taste yourself,” he husks, connecting his lips with Dave’s. The sight of both men’s tongues intertwined, paired with the sensation of Oberyn’s cock nestled impossibly deep inside of you, is enough to tip you over the edge one more time.

Blackness is tugging at the edges of your vision, but fire is burning in your veins, coursing through you until your whole body is left a trembling mess. When you come back to yourself, both men are holding you close, shushing you and peppering every inch of your skin that they can reach with kisses. It’s soft, it’s warm, it’s safe. It’s heaven.

The three of you end up in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, intertwined with one another as closely as possible. You wrap your arms around Dave, whose eyes are already closed, but he leans into the touch instantly.

“Thank you. You were fun,” you tell him with a giggle, your heart pulsing at the sight of an earnest smile on his face, possibly the first one that you’ve seen. Oberyn’s fingers are linked with yours, wordlessly sharing the deep joy that you both feel. You fall asleep like this, in a bubble so dreamy that you wish you could stay like this forever.

When you wake up to the sounds of birds and waves in the distance coming through the open windows in the morning, your head resting on Oberyn’s chest as sunlight is filtering into the room, the other side of the bed is empty.

Dave is gone, leaving the both of you in an apartment that looks even less personal in the daylight, with no signs of the man who you spent the night with.

thank you for reading <3 comments, reblog & asks are greatly appreciated!

#pedro pascal fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #dave york #dave york fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #oberyn martell x dave york #janas fics

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psychotic-nonsense · 6 months ago

Text

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

--------------------

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

#dude i dunno what possessed me #i was thinking about multiverse steddie again and came up with that “maybe in another world” paragraph #then suddenly Empty Bed by Cavetown was playing on loop and this was in front of me #so have fun with this weird mesh of steddie angst #could be platonic or romantic but either way it's requited and doomed #also shoutout the lovely 2jihiir0 here on tumblr for introducing me to the steddie multiverse i thank you immensely my friend #also also yes im still working on writing veronica harrington i promise i just keep hitting roadblocks and getting distracted i'll get ther #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things au #steddie #steve x eddie #gonna try and get all the other characters and their place of origin bear with me here #fargo #gator tillman #marmalade #baron marmalade #hoard movie #michael hoard #gladiator 2 #emporer geta #finalmente l'alba #sean lockwood #free guy #keys mckey #a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place day one

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tk-duveraun · 4 months ago

Text

LBH is SO NORMAL About Shen Yuan

Part 1/?

1 (here), 2

Based explicitly on @sunderwight 's idea here

System dialogue modified from the 7seas translation of svsss

Everything hurt. Considering the last thing Luo Binghe remembered was metal and glass flying everywhere thanks to a truck t-boning his car, pain everywhere was only to be expected. Less expected was the mobile phone ringing so loud it felt like it was inside his own head. No one should have their mobile in his hospital room. Not since he was taken in by his biological father, who was the very definition of more money than sense.

He opened his eyes a crack to see if he could glare at the phone's owner until they silenced it. The ringing stopped, but his eyes were assaulted by an electric-blue floating window out of some badly CGI-d scifi movie.

He had to blink a few times before his vision was clear enough to read the words.

[Activation Code: "Who wrote this? Knock-off Chat GPT fed only a twelve year old's wet dreams?" System automatically triggered.]

The fu— Luo Binghe's eyes snapped fully open to stare at the screen. Yes, he had been reading the latest update to "Intricate Rituals with my Shixiongdi" while his driver took him to his father's house, but—

[Welcome to the System. This System operates in lie with the design concept "YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB"; we hope to provide you with the best possible experiene. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnifcent, high-quality, first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy.]

My wish? Luo Binghe went cold, then hot, adrenaline flushing through his body. I can finally wife Shen Yuan? He wanted to cry, to scream, but he was still saddled with enough pain that even the adrenaline didn't give him much energy to get up and run off his excitement.

"Ah, Shixiong is awake. Good," a voice came from his right.

Luo Binghe agonizingly turned his head away from the blue screen and saw an older teenager in neat hanfu and a starched apron standing next to him. The teen had a handbound book folded open and was holding a stick of charcoal.

"How is Shixiong feeling?"

"Hurts." Luo Binghe said. His voice was rough and his throat felt like he'd swallowed every shard of glass from his windshield. He tried wiggling his hands and feet and found the movement easy, if excruitiating.

"Mmm, to be expected given the severity of Shixiong's qi deviation." He reached out and took Luo Binghe's wrist. Having his arm moved hurt as much as moving it himself. It felt like being injected with saline to have his meridians checked or whatever the trainee healer was doing. "But Shixiong's system has stablized nicely. One of this shidi's seniors will be by to release you to Qing Jing Peak with the next…" The teen glanced at something outside of the room and finished, "half shichen."

"Thanking Shidi," Luo Binghe croaked. So it was confirmed: he had transmigrated into IRS. Had transmigrated into Shen Yuan's own peak. And as a disciple, if he was the same generation as this kid. Was he part of Shen Yuan's cohort? His heart thumped at the thought.

IRS was an excrutiating mess of will-they, won't-they between the protagonist, Shen Yuan, and his ever-increasing bevy of admirers. It was a mess with character growth and subplots dropped in favor of introducing another man in love with Shen Yuan's poise and genuine goodness. If Luo Binghe was part of Shen Yuan's cohort of disciples, he could cut through ninety percent of the garbage and save his beloved the indignities of countless 'wardrobe malfunctions' and plants with extremely dubious tentacles.

The teen — a Qian Ciao disciple — nodded politely. "Luo-Shixiong would be wise to consult with Shen-shibo before resuming normal cultivation."

A klaxon went off between Luo Binghe's ears even before the blue screen returned to his sight with a merry jingle.

[This system was sucessfully actuvated! Bound Role: Shen Yuna's demonic student, Luo Baixiao. Weapons: Amature Spiritual Cultivation, Demonic Cultivation (locked), Demonic Abilities (locked). Starting S-points: 100.]

Luo Binghe's mind raced with swear words in a rainbow of languages. He finished with an emphatic kurwa.

[You have triggered the System's execution command and have been bound to the Luo Baixiao account. As the plot progresses, various point types will gradually become available. Please ensure that no score falls below zero, or the System will automatically mete out punishment.]

What kind of shit luck. Luo Baixiao was boogie man of the entire second half of IRS, used as a punching bag by Shen Yuan's various suitors to show off. It was stupid, senseless! How was Luo Baixiao so powerful that he never died, yet so weak he was constantly defeated by the man of the week? Why did he start as Shen Yuan's student only to disappear after a few chapters only to return as a villain?

It made no sense!

Luo Binghe — Baixiao now, he supposed — bared his teeth at the empty room. Actually, that was weird. Who did that? Was that a demonic instinct from his new body? He'd have to do some intense examination and introspection when he could move his limbs without wanting to curl on the floor and whimper.

He was supposed to be Shen Yuan's worst nightmare? Well that whole plot could kindly fuck itself. Luo Binghe knew exactly how Shen Yuan's squirrely mind worked and he was going to slot himself irremovably from his shizun's life while the suitors of the week failed in attempt after courting attempt.

[Warning,] the System warned, flashing again before his eyes. [This proposed plan is incredibly dangerous and qualifies as a violation. Please do not attempt or the system will automatically mete out punishment.]

"What do you mean dangerous? Shen Yuan would never hurt one of his disciples, let alone one that made his life easier," Luo Binghe asked inside his mind.

[Currently, you are at the beginner level, and the OOC feature is frozen. You must complete a beginner-level quest to unfreeze it. Before unfreezing, any act in violation of the original Luo Baixiao character settings will result in a deduction of a fixed number of S-Points.]

"You must be joking," Luo Binghe deadpanned. "Disciple Luo appeared in three chapters. I managed the wiki. He didn't have a characterization at this point."

[This System utilizes all resources in defining characters.] Okay, that meant nothing. So it was going to pull characterization out of its ass and hold him to it? [To aid user, multiple reply options will be given during critical dialogue. User may complete side-quests to unlock Luo Baixiao character motivations. For now, review the complementary character sheet.]

Luo Binghe wasn't really much of a gamer, but the character sheet displayed by the System was pretty basic. Strength, endurance, charisma… It also listed the same 'weapons' the System initially told him about. Near the bottom right it said simply: Internally cold and resentful, externally polite and aloof. Thanks, System.

[User is welcome (✿◡‿◡)]

He was going to have another qi deviation.

#svsss #so normal au #hello and welcome to the clown show

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writingmeraki · 11 months ago

Text

men on a mission.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married lmao )

genre : fluff. few rotten tooth worthy fluff.

warnings : kissing and mentions of alcohol/drunkness.

author's note : well. i was inspired by a sort of dream i had abt mingyu and this sprouted out of it lmao. i rlly do hope it makes sense <3 i kinda wanna make this a fic someday but i have too much shit on my hands rn so take this instead :D also unkept, unsaid,ugly emotions other units will be coming soon and maybe something for enha too cause it's been a HOTTT minute ☝️!!

sp. dt to my svt luvr moots 🩷!! @blue-jisungs ; @shuamorollss ; @odxrilove ; @flwoie ; @strxwberry-skiess ; @bambikisss ; @enluv !!!! ( this is my small attempt at showing y'all i am alive and do think of you guys everytime i open this app :( love u all even those who aren't mentioned ! )

word count : 0.9k

small drabble in the same universe ( continuation if you wish ) !!

Mission be darned, you may just get exempted due to murdering your assigned partner.

“Mingyu! Can you please stop drinking!?”

You were sure your forehead might have become red from the amount of times you've been rubbing it and you can feel the grey hair seeping through.

Glaring at said man as he downed probably the fifth shot of some combo of liquor, you turned your attention to the bartender.

His eyes widened as he gulped in slight fear from the anger radiating in your gaze.

“I told you to stop. No more drinks for him.”

You said calmly as he quickly nodded his head and went in a rush to clean the already cleaned up counter for the second time, finding it better to be anywhere but near a furious person.

He knew what he was paid was not worth getting into an argument about how customer service is the top thing and all that.

“Loosen up! Have some fun babyyy!” His words slurred towards the end and you had to stop yourself from grinning at his words. You rolled your eyes at his words before hissing out lowly towards him,

“We are not supposed to have fun, if you remember, we’re here to collect some information!” You were whisper yelling at this point but you doubt anyone would hear you anyways from the loud music playing in the club which was already giving you a headache.

“ ‘s fine~”

“I’ll get it out some other time, just relax yeah? It’s been a while since we went out.”

Sighing at his words, you avoided looking at his face. You knew damn well he had that specific look. The look when he really wanted something from you which you weren’t agreeing on. You think it’s his eyes that get to you every damn time.

Suddenly, he moved from his position and clinged to your arm, almost making you fall off the bar stool as he scooted closer with his, making a screeching sound that would have made you cringe if it weren’t for the fact you were trying not to fall over from the sudden weight added.

“Mingyu!” You yelped as you moved your right arm around him, trying to hold him as support,which was another mission in itself considering how broad his shoulders were.

His face plopped itself on your shoulder, cheek smothered on it as he spoke, “You’re so warm, always are warm.”

You suppose he was somewhat fulfilling the actual mission you’d come for, which was acting like a couple in love as bait to get some information on a group that was specifically targeting couples for their acts and scams.

“Uhm, are you alright?” You turned to the concerned bartender, who had immediately turned towards you once again when he heard your shocked yelp from before.

“If he’s bothering you, I can call security.”

You rolled your eyes, for probably the nth time that night, murmuring under your breath how if he hadn’t given him the shots, he wouldn’t act that way.

“No it’s fine- he gets…clingy when he’s out of it.”

“Gyu?” The coldness of the ring on your ring finger touched his cheek which made him slightly wake up from almost dozing off as you had turned your attention away from him.

The ring didn’t go unnoticed to the bartender as he nodded at you and went about his business.

Turns out your mission was already halfway complete because you didn’t really need to fake being a couple, after all being married for six years is probably as real as it could get.

“You’re so pretty, wanna marry you and just be with you~”

You couldn’t stop the giggle now, your eyes sparkling underneath the club lights as you rubbed his cheek in adoration.

Well what was the point of trying to accomplish the mission anyways? You knew you would be able to get the information through other ways, so you might as well just 'have fun' as your actual partner ( for life ) said right?

Your anger was considerably simmered since it had occurred to you, it had been an actual while since you went out with him. Even if he was your husband, it was tough to get free time when you were both the best at your agency.

“Well I think you’ve already accomplished that yeah baby?” You don’t think you’ll ever get over how your stomach feels like butterflies are roaming around when he grins at you the way he is at the moment.

You’ll definitely never get over how he always and always looks at you like you hung up every star in the universe just for him to gaze at in awe. He looks at you, always did as if you held all the answers to his questions and perhaps in a sense you did. You were his everything, all the answers and all the stars.

“I love you.” Your cheeks were probably hurting from grinning so much, you could never be angry at him.

You moved your face a little closer to his, pecking his nose and pulling back,

“I do too. I mean I don’t think I'd have kept up with your annoying ass for the past almost decade if I didn’t.”

Before he could go on a rant about how mean you were being, you moved again, placing your lips on his, effectively shutting him up as his hazy brain tried to comprehend his long time–lifetime– crush kissing him.

He would never get used to how you would make him feel like he’s a giddy boy in love all over again just from your mere actions. He’s probably been in love a trillion times by now but just with you and only you.

Mission be darned, if he could have you like this at the end of the day, he doesn’t think he’ll ever regret anything.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 10 months ago

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

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