#i swear to fucking god when i eventually go through with it which i inevitably will bc i only have so many depressive episodes left in me

[moodr1ng]

how many fucking times are random fucking people who dont even follow me or know me from eve or adam going to reblog personal posts of mine where im venting about my depression and killing myself and self-hating. like i shouldnt need to preemptively make those not rebloggable. you freaks should realize not everything is for or about you and thoughts expressed by a distressed mentally ill person in the midst of a deep depressive episode are not yours to plaster on your stupid blog. fuck off!!!!!!!!

[apricotgojo]

—★ wrong number ! s.g

summary: an au in which college nerd!Satoru accidentally sends nudes to the wrong person - you!

tags: NSFW, big dick gojo, college au ! , gojo is a hot loser in this, kind of a crack au too, swearing, eventual smut <.<, mentions of substance abuse.

—★

[idiot #1] guys 🧍🏼‍♂️

[idiot #1] i did an oopsie

[idiot #1] HELP

[idiot #1] NOW

[idiot #1] PLS

[idiot #2] ??

[idiot #2] it is 3am

[idiot #1] i fuckwd uppp

[idiot #2] whats new

[idiot #1] stfuuu im serious sug

[idiot #1] imso akmakama

[idiot #2] words pls

[idiot #1] i sent nudes to the wrong person

[idiot #2] 💀

[idiot #2] COMMON SATORU L

[idiot #1] i hate u

[idiot #2] HOW AND WHO

[idiot #1] i was supposed to send it to a number and i think i she gave it to mw wrong idk im freaking ouyt

[idiot #2] so ur telling me

[idiot #2] u sent nudes

[idiot #2] on imessage

[idiot #1] yes?

[idiot #2] youve never sent nudes before have u

[idiot #1] …

[idiot #2] HAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHHH

[idiot #2] bro for a astrophysics major ur dumb as fuck

[idiot #1] I HATW YOU

[idiot #1] *HATE :(

[idiot #2] who were u gonna send them to tho 👀

[idiot #1] Yume 🧍🏼‍♂️

[idiot #2] say sike rn

[idiot #1] bro i went up to her at sukunas party and she told me that if i send her a nude then she’ll go out w me idk i was high

[idiot #1] n i think she wrote her number wrong

[idiot #2] im gonna hold ur hand when i say this

[idiot #2] you got played

[idiot #1] fuck

[idiot #1] fUCK

[idiot #1] i sent a video instead too

[idiot #1] my face doesnt show tho js my dick

[idiot #2] OH GOD

[idiot #2] WHAT DID THW OTHER PERSON SAY ?

[idiot #1] well

a cock was on your screen.

a huge, veiny, somewhat pretty, cock was on your phones screen as it laid across the floor to where you’ve thrown it.

when you saw an imessage notification saying:

[video attached] ;)

from an unknown number - your first thought was that it was some type of scam, since recently everyone and their mom has been receiving shady text messages from unknown numbers.

so you ignored it and went back to bed rotting and binge watching ‘Gilmore Girls’.

You were also still high from the joint you shared with your dorm mate, Shoko, and perhaps that could’ve been a factor as to why all of a sudden a little voice popped inside your head and told you to open the message.

Something told you that this wasn’t a scam - if it was, they would usually use a foreign number or pretend to be a local bank asking you to confirm your card details via fucking imessage.

but this number was a local one, so the thought of it being a scam subsided - although it was still in the back of your mind.

you tapped on the notification and you’ve been faced with a video attachment and a winky face.

The thumbnail was of a males lower torso, wearing a black compression shirt and baggy grey sweatpants. The male seemed to be in a dimly lit room and the only source of light shining on him was either from a computer screen or a TV.

You press play on the video and instantly you realize that this was definitely one of those lame jumpscare videos where as soon as the subject pulls down his pants, some form of demon appears on the screen.

with furrowed brows you watch as the video starts, instantly noting the faint music in the background - the song was familiar to you, it sounded like it was ‘The Weeknd’.

-‘okay, taste’ you mentally note.

Your eyes instantly dart down to the mans lower half, your eyes oogling the imprint of what you assumed to be his dick through his grey sweatpants.

‘fake as fuck’ you mutter out loud.

a pale, veiny hand reaches over to play with the waistband of his sweatpants in a teasing manner - long fingers hooking around it and slowly moving across.

you couldn’t help the little smirk forming on your lips as you prepared for the inevitable jumpscare that was going to display across the screen and you waited patiently - curious to see what they’re going to show.

a deep sigh comes from the male in the video as his other hand moves to palm his ‘cock’.

you could see his muscles twitch beneath his compression shirt and your eyes scanned across his figure.

whoever the guy in the video was - he was really fucking hot.

well, at least his body was.

His two big hands were now on the waistband of his sweatpants and your body tensed up to prepare for the demon to pop out on the screen and ruin the fun.

until it didn’t.

and as he pulled down the waistband something did jump out.

his cock.

it sprung out of his sweatpants.

and you screamed and threw your phone across the room.

you were not expecting that - not one bit.

who the fuck would send you that?

you place a hand on your chest to feel just exactly how hard your heart is beating - practically booming in your ears at this point.

it was a jumpscare after all.

As you calmed your breathing, you realize that the video is still playing and your ears perk up to the sound of heavy breathing and soft moans.

your head slowly turns to your phone - which was face up on the floor. Your head heavy with thoughts of who it could be.

maybe it was a prank? - you did joke with Shoko about how bad you needed to get dicked down today..

but no - it couldn’t be. Shoko was passed out on the couch. You were sure of it.

you walk towards your phone, gnawing on your lower lip as you stare at the screen.

he was going at it alright - and the fucked up thing was that you just couldn’t look away.

You marveled at how his cock managed to stay upright against his stomach - it looked so heavy, so fucking big. You’ve never looked at a dick before and thought ‘wow this is a really nice looking penis’ but low and behold - you were practically drooling at how delectable it looked.

he was stroking his own length, smearing the spewing pre-cum all over it until it was fully coated with his own slick. your hungry eyes were fixed on the movement of his hips, rolling in such an intimate way as he fucked his own fist for the camera.

the faint background music, his labored breathing mixed the sound of squelching were all buzzing through your ears and that plus the absolute sight of him made your thighs squeeze together as you watched him from above the ground.

the somewhat trance you were in was interrupted by the buzzing of your phone on the floor. Your eyes dart up to the top of the screen and you see a text from that same number;

[unknown] ???

[unknown] u there?

a shudder runs down your body and you quickly reach down to snatch your phone from the ground, eyes wide at the new text messages.

your thumbs were shaking as you thought of what to reply with - scratch that, you debated on even replying at all.

after a few minutes of typing and deleting and staring at the wall until your mind stops being blank, you muster up a reply ;

[you] who is this?

after around 3 minutes you receive a reply;

[unknown] is this yume?

oh god-

it hit you like a giant double decker bus.

this mother fucker accidentally sent a nude to the wrong number.

but also - you wondered who the fuck sends nudes on imessage anyways?

[you] no

[you] how did u get my number?

seen

he really took his time to reply - you assumed that it’s probably because he has just realized that he accidentally sent a nude to the wrong person.

any normal person would be freaking out right now - you sure as hell would be.

[unknown] wrong number

[unknown] sorry

that little voice in the back of your head popped up again, 'i think this might've been the right number'

[unknown] ignore the vid haha

[you] ...

[unknown] fuck

[you] its ok

[unknown] im so sorryy that i've traumatized u whoever u are

[you] im an 80 year old woman

[unknown] IM SORRY

[you] better be u almost gave me a stroke

[unknown] NOOOO 😭😭😭😭

[you] jk im not 80 but u did almost give me a stroke

[unknown] oh thank god

[unknown] not THE STROKE PART

[unknown] THE YOU NOT BEING AN OLD WOMAN THAT IVE JUST TRAUMATIZED

[you] nice cock btw

[unknown] thank you? seen

you left it at that. That last message you sent was a result of the marijuana and the lack of sleep in your system - you swore. but you decided to troll the man a little bit for ruining what was supposed to be a 'cute self-care night' before you returned to campus again on Monday.

Shoko swore that she was still high in the morning when she woke up to see that her two best friends blew up the group chat while she was asleep. she barely had the energy to scroll as she sipped her coffee and lit up her morning cigarette on your shared balcony - but she did and she was sooo glad for that.

"fucking dumbass" she muttered under her breath as she read the group chat, shaking her head because she couldn't possibly believe that Satoru was that stupid to send a nude the wrong person. and on imessage too. so she wrote in the group chat;

[MOTHER] @ Idiot#1 L

"good morning." You say from behind her as you plop onto the chair next to her "The weirdest thing happened last night."

She put her coffee mug down and rubs her eyes, "i didn't even realise that i passed out last night - what happened?"

"someone sent me a nude by accident last night - like a whole ass video too"

Shoko's eyes widen at your words. no fucking way. Her lips curl into a small smirk as she took a drag from her cigarette.

"oh really?"

◡̈

a/n - pt 2 coming soon ! ;)

[stcrgazings]

like a tattoo ➳ (c.l)

part two is up and you can read it here

note: sooooo I literally wrote this out of nowhere, but i like how it turned out, it’s nothing like the song really buttt it has some of its lyrics so it only seemed fitting to name it that. thx to my girly @hey-kae who was my beta reader, and convinced me to post this, love ya. happy reading and don’t be a ghost reader!

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

summary: in which you’re having a very hard time trying not to think about your ex-boyfriend charles, and with his dnf in the first race of the season, everything seems to remind you of him.

warnings: use of alcohol, lots of swearing (mostly fuck), a very heartbroken reader, mentions of a dick-ish charles, smoking ¿?? kinda

word count: 1,5K (it’s a shortie but I promise is soooo good)

“and it’s a Ferrari slowing down guys, and it looks like it’s Leclerc” the commentator in the tv says and your heart immediately drops.

Yes, you hate him, and don’t even wanna look at his face ever again but your heart still aches for him and the way his team is failing him yet again in what is barely the first race of the season.

Your model friend turns to look at you as the stylist sips you up over the black tube dress and fixes your hair in the tight ponytail that adorned you head.

“That’s karma” says the girl besides you, as you inevitably roll your eyes.

“That’s one way to call it” you say and everyone in the room that was starting at you bursts out in laughter.

You wanted to hate him, you really did, but you couldn’t help but wanting to text him after that awful race for him.

But fuck him, right?

He had a championship to win, at least that what he said when he broke up with you cold blooded, so yeah, fuck him and his stupid unreliable little red car.

you look at yourself in the mirror and smile at the reflection, you’re pretty, the most wanted model of every single luxury brand, and you eventually will get over him.

So you say your goodbyes as you exit the Prada building after signing yet another contract to add to your portfolio, your girl best friend hooked in your arm as you both giggled softly about where you both will be partying that nigth.

“But in Monaco right?” She asks as you both enter the limousine waiting for you at the front.

“Yeah I guess” is all you answer as you manager turns to look at you both.

Your hand lingers through your phone and eventually Charles contact, you wanted to text him, but at the end you decide against it, but something in the back of your mind tells you to unblock him and so you do.

Maybe some vodka will give you the courage to text him, or at least to hook up with someone else to forget about those haunting green eyes.

“We’re going to a club” you answer, finally lifting your eyes from the device your managers face quickly going pale.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” He asks serious, you roll your eyes.

“Why?” You play dumb as your friend besides you giggles.

“Bella don’t support her!” He complains.

“I’m actually curious why not?” The model asks again, also playing dumb, the man in front of you squeezing his fists as the both of you gang up on him.

“You going out partying and getting hammered when your ex just got his ass kicked at the race, how do you think the media would react to that?”

you meant this with absolutely every bone of your tiny body, when you say this;

“Do you really think I care what the media thinks? Fuck them for all I care” You spit and Bella besides you claps and cheers and picks a fight with your manager who is clearly unhappy with your plans of the night, he lists all of the cons and the reasons you should stay at home tonight.

“It’s a Sunday y/n, for gods sake!” He says but you didn’t listen and truly did not care a bit.

This is what you’ve been doing for the pasts weeks to try and cope with what he had done to you, and you hated yourself for not just getting over him.

Because it’s not like he was boyfriend of the year when you two were together, in the last months of your relationship he barely even acknowledge you, and he had dump you over call after what it was the biggest fight of your relationship.

Because you had exploded out frustration from his constant indifference, and dick ass attitude, and then ditched the apartment you both shared together.

So naturally when when he called you hours later you thought it was maybe to fix the things between the both of you.

But boy were you wrong.

Somewhere along the lines of “you’re just a model you don’t understand anyway” and “text me when you come get your things” the person you had love the most for the longest time broke your heart and didn’t looked back.

And so you went into self defense and destructive mode and if he didn’t looked back neither did you, blocking him in every social media known to men.

And like that you were strangers with who one was your favorite person in the entire earth.

And so if you wanted to go and get completely hammered after he lost a stupid race you would.

(…)

The Weeknd was playing as you downed another shot with people surrounding you as they cheered you on.

you were pretty wasted, but you still couldn’t get the Ferrari driver out of your mind.

All that you could think about was him, how much you missed him, and how much you wanted him right now.

As you danced with strangers hand all over your body you couldn’t help but remember his.

You remembered his hands, the way you would squirm under his touch, how he would show you how the stars looked like with just his fingers, the way his hands fit practically like they were meant to be holding yours, how good it feel when they were wrap around your neck, and how he would woke you up with them as he tickle you in to his arms, the way he held you at night as you both talk about your days and how much you missed each other.

Suddenly it all feels like too much, you pushed the stranger away from you, his grab in you becoming overwhelming and you need air, a single tear running trough your cheek and you can’t breath and it’s so unfair.

It’s unfair because you’ve had the worse months of your life and he had just moved on, with who used to be one of your best friends.

(Or at least that’s what every single media outlet said)

And you probably shouldn’t believe it but you still remembered the bile coming up your throat as you stared at the pictures of them at the Paris Fashion Week.

So you sit with your head thrown back in on of the sofas of the private booths at the club, and as the air conditioner hit your face, you remembered his hands and the way the mountains looked when you took that trip to the French Alps last Christmas, and you wanted to sob because of how awful it all felt and how much your body ache for him, you close your eyes and take some deep breath, and you can almost feel his lips against yours, you can almost see the life shooting diamonds from his eyes, his beautiful eyes.

The ones that would haunt you at night when you couldn’t sleep because all you did was think of him, how he was doing, if he missed you as much as you did him.

“You want a cig? Looks like you need it” a stranger asks in front of you, you mumble a no as you can, being so lost in your own head.

For the longest time Charles was by far, in your books at least the best person in the world, always so happy and perky, his smile lighting up your days, and nights, always so hungry for life, wanting for you to know the world the same way he did, always so passionate about the things he loved, always so passionate and loving of you.

You can’t help but wonder when it all went wrong, maybe somewhere between France and Abu Dhabi, the last being the last time you remembered being genuinely happy beside Charles, because yes he had come second in the championship but you remembered the way he held you up and kissed you in the hotel room and for a moment you thought you both will be fine.

But when you reach the top, it comes the fall.

And it was all fighting and misunderstandings and misery because you just wanted to be with him but he just wouldn’t let you.

Now you were there, still falling, wanting to forget about those times when you were happy with him.

He moved on, why couldn’t you?

Sitting there you beg for the universe to help you, to give you a sign, anything really, that eventually things would change, that you would stop feeling this way, that the hole inside your chest would disappear and finally the air would feel the way it’s supposed to and breathing and waking up in the morning wouldn’t be as hard as it had been lately and happiness would return your way and things would get better.

Obviously the least that you expect is your phone screen lighting up.

Especially with the name of the one that hadn’t been able to leave your mind in the entire night.

Suddenly an “I miss you” text from Charles hits you out of nowhere like a brick in the face.

Maybe you’ll take that cigarette now.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Stranger Danger! [Entry #1]

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Dark!Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Modern AU]

WORDS: 3,049.

SUMMARY: Moving into a desolate, small-town suburb, you would think the risks of finding yourself in "peril" are close to none. And yet, how could you not have been more wrong...

WARNINGS: stalker!Aegon/stalking tendencies mentioned, posessive!Aegon, mentions of kidnapping, slight BDSM (spanking), Daddy kink, slight dub-con, swearing.

A/N - he literally took over my soul & there’s no going back now. when I tell you this took me forever, 4 fucking days... NO IDEA WHY I JUST KEPT GOING. ANYWAYS I had to split this HC up, because I wrote too much! So here is the first part, nearly completed the next :) hope ya'll enjoy xox

A small, simple town, nonetheless, it would suffice for you. It was inevitable that newcomers would mingle with most of the residents in a day or two, you had been advised upon your relocation.

Your case was no exception: withdrawn from your previous livelihood in the city, you wished to escape to the serenity a desolate, small-town could offer.

That was where you'd meet, Aegon... Just, Aegon [as he had ambiguously introduced himself].

Working in a minor, stuffy bookstore/cafe, many of the local townspeople often visited or dined, in which is where Aegon was introduced to you.

At first, he would dare not to approach you, though rather seek in the comfort of lurking in the noisy, bustling background as his younger brothers or sister would heroically order in his steed.

Like a dangerously ravenous predator prowling at its innocent, mindless prey, he watched you closely. Your precise movements, your ever so often-changing facial expressions, your disciplined mannerisms, your light-hearted voice. Every fine detail he saturated his senses completely, soaking himself in your vicinity, in your divine presence.

Surmising that you were a sweet, honest little thing: he fathomed and relished in the notion that you were incorrupt, all for his undoing. He'd never seen the likes of you before, and was frustrated with himself that he hadn't ever clocked you.

Aegon would often grow impatient with himself, as he observed other males conversing with you, knowing their true, carnal intentions... It made his blood boil, and yet you paid no mind, he was comforted by this, although knew his time was wearing thin.

He would eventually start to visit you every chance he could cease, even in the absence of his younger siblings. Finally building the courage to converse with you, even if it was short, simple-minded banter as you politely took his order, your voice, its tone sounded like decadent, pure honey to his ears.

He was madly obsessed with everything about you.

You could not deny on your part either: Aegon was quite handsome, with his doe, lilac eyes that enraptured you, his soft facial structure, yet also formidable. The contrast of his pale, silver hair against his fair skin, was unearthly. And Gods, did he love to listen to you. He made you feel utterly giddy, often blurting out random, cringe remarks, feeling your cheeks flash hot with blush.

Nonetheless, he continued to return to the store, coincidentally whenever you were scheduled for a shift.

Eventually, Aegon grew tempted to follow you after hours, desperate to seek you in your travels back to your humble abode. He often waited in the distance, as you closed and departed from work late in the evenings, all by your lonesome.

He'd convinced himself he was doing you a favour... Gods forbid, someone tried to attack you, he'd be your saviour, like some damsel in distress. He was being harmless otherwise.

As he fell more comfortable in this consuming routine, compulsively following you home, often making up incessant lies and pathetic excuses for his absence from home: found solace in watching you through your apartment window.

Whether it was watching you do your laundry, making a simple dinner, or prepping for bed as you'd read a book, he grew infatuated with your wholesomeness.

Although, earning even more luck, he'd caught a glimpse of another side of you, a much, much more titillating side. Attentively observing you, how eagerly your fingers ventured between your thighs, as your hips bucked forward, back arching and convulsing in swift motions. The circular shapes of your mouth, he could only imagine the lewd sounds echoing from your lips. He found himself moments later, stroking his own cock, desperately aching for pleasure and release, as he envisioned himself being the reason for your excitement.

All this entertainment however, came to an abrupt end, when Aegon found you bringing some random, strange man into the confinements of your home.

He was livid beyond words: fists clenching firmly on his steering wheel, his knuckles whitened even more against his pale skin, his jaw tense as he spied on the two of you, the way you'd laugh and grip at the man's arm. He could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Much to his infuriated relief, nothing escalated beyond the red wine you'd generously shared. After being certain the man was completely gone, and you safe and sound in bed, he knew he had to make some sort of a move. He was adamant in avoiding this situation from repeating itself all over again, or worse...

The notion of another man taking you all for himself, was enough motive to set his plans to motion.

How it happened and how Aegon had panned it out, was all a blur initially.

You'd recognised him instantly as he slowly pulled up along the kerbside, pulling his frosted window down, as you were walking back from work. His familiar, tender smile was heart-warming in contrast to the dim, winter weather and cloudy, light sprinkle that had been hazing the day since the mane.

"You poor thing, you'll catch a cold if you wander about in this weather. I can drop you off, if you would like?"

At first you remained reluctant, out of consideration: not wanting to intervene in Aegon's plans for the day. Your meek attempts at refusing his offer however, failed, for he remained persistent.

"I don't mind at all. I have no plans or commitments, I swear it...Please, it-it's the least I can do after all."

Defeatedly you succumb to his offer, although a partial side of you is grateful that you have a reason to be out of the cold weather. Aegon leans over towards the front passenger seat, opening the door for you, like a true gentleman. You were convinced he was the only gentlemen in the town, with how chivalrous he was towards you.

As the journey began, you'd disclosed your address to Aegon, who immediately knew the directions [since having grown up here]. Although, taking a wrong turn, you initially acknowledged it at first, laughing it off. Yet, another wrong turn...

"A-Aeg, you took the wrong turn-" Glancing over towards him, that familiar, heart-felt smile began to fade as his face turned rigid to stone. Stern and stoic in his expression, he turns to look over at you with a threatening, dark tinge, before uttering the chilling, final words you would hear for the last time out in the open...

"You made me do this."

Memory hazy, you could only vaguely reminisce the moment a wet, white cloth was shoved towards your face before the darkness had closed in.

You awoke in a dingy, empty yet neatly structured basement, solid brick walls and metallic pipes enclosing the sturdy foundation of the architecture, where dense, black padding foamed across the walls and ceilings. Your breath was heavy, yet mouth taped and your movements restricted, only noticing the tight restraints around your wrists, digging into your soft flesh. Your cries muffled loudly, feeling the hot tears streaking down.

Eventually a part of the ceiling where stairs rose towards had opened suddenly, and cautiously, Aegon entered, a beaming smile across his face.

Approaching you carefully, as though you were some kind of hurt, defenceless animal that he dared not to frighten nor startle, he bespoke some "rules": no screaming, no fighting back, no disobeying and no running, under any circumstances.

"Try any of those and your punishment will be severe, understood Y/N?"

Internally, your mind raced a million thoughts incoherent to his words and yet you remained blank. Sensing the adrenaline beginning to surge intensely through your body, as Aegon began to untie the restraints, you felt yourself lunge forwards towards the steps, yet something had firmly tugged you back, causing you to grow unsteady on your feet, falling to the crowd. Met with darkness once more, your memory clouded the second time you awoke.

"What did I say? Look at what you made me do, Princess.... I told you NOT to run, didn't I? What did Daddy say, huh?"

Your head immensely throbbing with a dull pain, it took you a few seconds to settle, before realising that familiar feeling of the restraints and tight concealment of your mouth forcibly shut. Aegon's hand gripped at your jaw tightly, pulling your attention unto him, as he attempted to calm you down.

"You made Daddy hurt you... I never want to hurt you again, baby. I only want take care of you, okay?"

"Wh-What did you do A-Aeg? Wh-What have you done?"

"Only taken back what is mine."

You withdraw and grimace at his gentle touch, as he cleans your bloodied scar across your forehead, before softly applying a bandage. The faint, proud smile produced on his face as he admires his work, before his eyes linger over yours once more, the smile fades again.

"Do not think that your little defiance won't go unpunished... Daddy always commits to his word, sweet thing. You will eventually come to know this. I am in charge, you will respect this or learn the hard fucking way."

Aegon suddenly departs that very moment, leaving you lonesome to cry inconsolably for God knows how long: ignorant to the notion of time now, it felt like hours as you weakly pondered over your destitute thoughts, wondering if anyone cared enough to know or realise of your abrupt disappearance to send for help... Yet again, you were scarcely known in the neighbourhood, people barely recalled your name correctly, had you not worn your employee name badge.

Feeling your reddened, puffy eyes slowly succumbing to sleep, you had awoken instantly by the sound of the ceiling door opening suddenly, to Aegon's heavy footsteps etching down.

Without an exchange of a word, Aegon pulled a chair right in front of where you crawled up and sat, before slapping at his thigh, harshly gesturing for you to sit atop.

"Bend and lay over my lap, now-"

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire that ignited from within Aegon, you dared not to disobey. The dark, forbidding look in his lilac eyes, that you once fawned for, now frightened you into compliance. The feeling of your tense body relaxing over his sturdy, meaty thighs, you found more comfort over than the stony cold floor you sat upon for hours ago.

Without a warning, Aegon's rough palm came striking down hard against the naked flesh of your ass cheeks.

"10 spankings for my naughty girl, cause for 10 seconds she tried to run away from me-"

"2 slaps- 3 slaps-"

Reciting each total, and the shrieking cries from your behalf echoed across the empty room, feeling the skin of your ass growing number by the minute, your hands instinctively gripped at the flesh of Aegon's thighs for support. Your mouth pressing down against its side, to muffle the cries more.

"6 slaps- 7 slaps-"

"Sweet heart thought she could get away? What does she think, that Daddy will let her go that easily? I promise I'll take care of you- 8 slaps- I'll feed you, nurture you- 9 slaps- I will love you."

The final stroke stung sharply, your skin burning with the heat of the friction, it was definite Aegon took the silence to admire his handprint over your bare skin, a stifled chuckle escaping his growling laugh.

Guiding you to sit upright on his lap, you felt tense and immense discomfort as you hovered over. Tears streaming down your scarlet, tender cheek, Aegon stroked each fallen drop across your sobbing face, cooing you in his lap, as one free hand soothed at your back and the other gently squeezed at your thigh.

"Promise me, Princess... Promise me you'll never leave me. I'm the only one that can take care of you, protect you and love you. Mark my words."

general taglist - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit

credit to - @saradika for the headers 🤍

[shady-scripter]

IDEA/HEADCANON FOR YOU MY LOVELY SHADE!!

What if Time’s child grew up with an…‘imaginary friend.’ A friend who took the form of a huge white wolf with eyes as milky as the moon’s surface and strangely familiar red and blue markings.

Time didn’t know why his infant would be giggling in their crib, arms out stretched to the cloud filled sky, as if playing with the rays of moonlight filtered through the dark clouds. He, being the paranoid man he was, got unsettled by this and was quick to add shutters to the window that hung over his child’s crib in hopes…in hopes his child wouldnt be playing with the moon?

Malon gently teased him for his protectiveness, reassuring him that it was normal for children to come up with imaginary friends to play with.

And while that did calm Time’s restless mind for awhile, he soon began to question how and why an infant was making such concepts. Imaginary friends were made out of loneliness or boredom, but his child wasn’t even old enough to walk yet!

—

But as his child grew and grew and their…nightly habit of giggling with the moon didn’t go away, Time was positive something had taken an interest in his child. The idea made his blood run hot and cold at the same time, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

As Time works out to find what dared to latch onto his child, that ‘imaginary wolf’ sits with the hero’s child and keeps them save.

Just because his physical form was stuck within that mask did not mean the deity couldn’t extend his aura. And how couldn’t he at the cries of a newborn, at the joyful tears of his wielder, at the sounds of a family he never had.

The wolf watches the hero pace back and forth, tome in hand with tiny reading glasses resting again his strong nose. He knows his wielder will find out eventually. The deity can only hope he’ll be understanding.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH😭😭😭

my addition is beneath the cut

So like, what are the dreams like😭😭😭

Because I’m imagining Time’s kid riding on the back of Fierce’s wolf like a cowboy-

The image is actually amazing🥰🥰🥰

NO BECAUSE-

I’m going to name the kid Elias because saying “the kid” over and over again suck(it also might become my preferred name soon but I didn’t say that)

Let’s say that Elias goes into depth about those dreams when they are a teenager. Like full detail

And Time is sitting there, listening, like 🤨

And so Elias is like, “Well, we like going on adventures. He said that those adventures were actually his memories, which I think is cool…I did get to fight gods in the moon once”

And so Time freezes and is like 😤🙂 and like trying to keep his cool, but he is flipping the fuck out

And Time ends the conversation with, “Let me know if you two go on any more…adventures, yeah?”

Then Elias continues on with their life. They keep having the dreams and Time learns, through Elias’s descriptions of the dreams, the Fierce is holding the team on his shoulders because Elias is just watching Fierce fight the whole time.

Cut to the inevitable “I wanna be a knight when I grow up” and so, Time decides that he’d train his child swordsmanship.

He isn’t really surprised when he finds that Elias appears to be fairly trained enough to judo flip his own father.

Time lost the sparring match and swears that it’s because he’s old.

[actualbird]

Hey! I was curious about how you enjoyed Luke's second birthday card as the snippets I've seen of it are kind of steamy, so I'm wondering if anything actually happens in it. I'd see for myself but I'm saving for another card unfortunately.

Thank you in advance!

hi anon! i havent played through my own SSR Dark Ripple yet but i did watch it in advanced when the card came out last year on cn server and the story is seared in my memory HAHA

(DISCLAIMER: take all of these with a grain of salt tho, bc it has been a whole year, and idk if some things were changed from the translation last year!)

long story short: no, nothing spicy Actually happens (and by spicy i mean "fucking", and by Actually i mean "written into the story with absolutely no doubt that fucking is what they did"), as those steamy moments are largely up to interpretation and/or cut to the next scene pretty promptly.

the steamy moments really are not the focus of the card's overall story, and are instead like....seasoning sprinkled around

for a more detailed rundown of the steamy moments (which will inevitably contain some spoilers) ive listed them under the cut :D

this card involves luke undercover as a cold, intimidating, and even cruel persona who goes by the alias "Raven" (which.....my god luke, u couldnt even think of a fake name that isnt ur codename? jHVKJAHSVKDFJAH) and mc joins the fray of this undercover mission as raven's arm candy who hes very protective over

the particular steamy scenes i think you could be talking about:

early the card story, to establish his cover character more raven!luke eithrer [EDIT: THIS IS A STORY CHOICE BASIS] 1) makes mc get on her knees and clean up a drink she spilled on his shoes so that they make a scene. or 2) pushes mc to the couch and pins her there, quietly telling her to resist so that they make a scene.

later on, they then go to a room alone to discuss case things more freely, but due to the fear of the room being bugged and surveilled, luke and mc have to stay very close. theres some talk of a mirror that Could be a two-way mirror, and theyre eventually interrupted by the Big Bad of this story when he goes into the room. it is this moment where mc straddles luke, so they wouldnt look suspicious like they were talking about the case and instead were in the middle of a passionate moment

later later on, luke starts getting a headache/fever which are side effects of a drug he took before the mission. this drug upped his alcohol tolerance so he could still drink during the night (and thus not be suspicious), but he does have to deal with those symptoms. mc doesnt like luke having any symptoms tho, so luke goes to the bathroom which hAS NO DOOR (????? WHO DESIGNED THIS MANSION AHSFVKJASH) and goes into the bathtub wiTH HIS SHIRT STILL ON (???? LUKE????) and he has a moment there thats teasing cuz mc was like "i wont peek!" and luke was like "im not bothered by that" and then he gets in the bathtub

the bathtub scene is Literally Steamy, because the water is a bit warm and theres literal steam everywhere. mc goes into the bathroom because she wants to help luke, and luke says something like "stimuli elsewhere can help distract from the pain" and then mc provides him Stimuli Elsewhere

again, largely left to interpretation Where that Elsewhere Stimuli is

lastly, in the scene towards the very end, mc and luke are back in their childhood home and for some reason (i forgot...i need to read through my own card soon i swear) mc is sitting on a table and luke is very close

given all of these, there are several points where a lot of thirsty fans (me, it's me, im thirsty fans, but tHERE ARE OTHERS TOO HAJKFVSKJHF) have filled in some blanks as moments where things couldve gotten intimate. but again, since it's not written undoubtedly in the story itself, it's left to interpretation, and so in my eyes, it doesnt truly count as fucking actually happen

schrodinger's steam, is what i'll call this phenomenon HAHJSDVFKJS

i hope this helps! :D

[verdantglow]

that makes so much sense actually. i also am making some aus (unrelated) and am wanting to seperate them into little ficlets/art pieces/comics of the pieces that motivate me before even touching on an overarching story but also god is it difficult for me. if thats what works for you as well id definitely say treat it like that (also i would LOVE to see any animatics you do for this)

i personally am mostly watching the hermits doing their hermit crafting (currently watching 18 hermits simultaneously the hyperfixation is b a d) and a couple SOS members, though i plan to watch more of the creators. I've really only seen up to double life (all through grians pov), and i havent even finished that. in my defence, the "its for your secret soulmate" line utterly and completely destroyed me and i have NOT recovered since (i stopped watching his hermitcraft videos after that too until the start of s10).

i have made the resolution to go watch other povs but i need to finish his first rip.

ANYWAY BACK TO THE AU

How often do you think the vflarp games effect their out of game relationships? like obviously it led to them becoming friends and desert duo becoming "moirails" but like. Did double life cause a rift between grian and scar? has rendog being absent from the games had any significance on anything? (i havent watched further so i cant really give too many other examples). Do the winners get anything other than the satisfaction that they alone won?

absolute behemoth of an ask my bad

Yeah! There’s just something so appealing about being able to just jump around & do mini projects that go together rather than one huge one. I’m hoping it’ll hold off the burn out I inevitably get for my AUs. **stares off into the distance thinking about all my mega fics that only ever got three chapters** I get it being hard to break it down though! I hope you’re able to land at a place where you can create as easily & painlessly as possible. ^^

I feel you on the hyperfixation lol. I was doing that hermitblr survey that’s going around & realized that I watch every episode of a third of the server, & some to most episodes of another third. & there’s a handful in the final third that I’ve been meaning to watch, but haven’t gotten to because I’m so busy watching everyone else & thinking about fanworks. This season is just slamming all the good brain chemical buttons!

Tbf, “it’s for your secret soulmate” hit so fucking hard, I do not blame you an ounce for wanting to take a break after that! When you’re ready, I highly recommend Martyn’s 3rd life, it’s so good! I never quite got the Renchanting/Treebark hubbub as someone who’d only seen Grian’s perspective of that season, but after watching Martyn’s… The drama is just. So. Good. Martyn + Ren is just a combo of theatre kid lore nerds & it honestly slaps. Gem’s Secret Life is damn good as well, just ‘cause she got to be a chaos gremlin & we love to see it.

Oh yes, their VLARPing affects IRL relationships all the time! A lot of early relationships developed due to playing 3rd Life & those relationships continued on to influence who went on which ship once they reached adulthood! Obviously, we’ve got Scar & Griann, but also there’s Scohtt & Jimmie who became auspitices, & Wrehnn & Martyn who stick together & eventually become matesprits. Jimmie & Tangoh hit it off after playing Double Life as soulmates & eventually enter a [matespritship? Moiraillegance? Haven’t decided] as well. & of course, my beloved Boat Boys developed their weird whatevership around the same time. (Joel swears they’re pitch. Eethos never comments on it. The truth is somewhere around them being hate friends who are flushed for each other??? But fuck if you’ll ever get either of them to admit it.)

Things were pretty rocky for Scar & Griann after DL; the whole secret soulmate thing was a case of Griann being mildly annoyed with Scar & thinking he could get back at Scar/make Scar jealous. This blew up in his face ~*~spectacularly~*~ & it took quite a bit for things to heal between them. (Mummbo spent a lot of that time being very confused why the vibes on Scar’s ship were so fucking rancid until he managed to get Griann to fess up.)

There definitely is a plot related reason Wrehnn hasn’t been playing, but I’m holding back on finalizing anything until I get more of the out of game plot mapped out. But yes, that definitely affects/is an effect of things in game!

I think, much like in real life, winning is just for the prestige of it. Like, in this AU, the Life series is just a bunch of games they’re playing for the heck of it. Though this does make me think that I need to decide where these games come from, whether it’s a mass market thing or something Griann threw together or if maybe it came from some other outside influence. Hm…

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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[realcube]

haikyuu!! boys dating you for a bet then falling hcs 💘

characters: oikawa, kuroo & osamu 

tw// angst to fluff, swearing, sexual references - minor dni!

OIKAWA’S AND KUROO’S ARE AGED UP !

thank you anon for this request 😚

Tōru Oikawa

everyone on the team was teasing him for getting broken up with bc he was ‘too obsessed with volleyball’

he had finally had enough and made a bet with iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki that he could get a s/o quicker than any of them

they accepted ofc but that’s when oikawa learned that hanamaki was already talking to a girl he liked which meant that it was a race against time for oikawa to find someone to date

in reality, he had no interest in dating atm but he had to do this for the sake of his pride

he settled on asking you out bc you were his lab partner for chemistry and even before the bet, he was making playful flirtatious banter with you but it’s not like he had any real feelings for you which meant that breaking up with you afterwards would be simple..right?

also, asking you out would be an easy win

and it was 🤠

oikawa won the bet and regained some confidence which meant he was now free to break up with you

buuuut y’all had only just started dating so he didn’t want to break up with you before the first date so he postponed the break up until after y’all went to the movies together

then the night came - he had just came back home for your first date at the movies, he took you to see an alien invasion movie and you said you loved it

he stared at his phone which was open on IMessage, on your contact; his fingers hovered over the keypad but the words didn’t come to him the way he expected 

the more he thought about, he realised that you guys hadn’t even had your first kiss yet and he wanted to give you a sweet memory to leave you with before he inevitably dumped you so he decided to postpone the break-up again, until you guys had your first kiss 

and since his messenger was open, he invited you on a second date to the park where you had your first kiss over a shared cone of vanilla ice-cream

honestly, he had such a great time on the date that in the moment, he completely forgot about the fact he had to break-up with you so here he was again, sitting on his bed and looking down at his phone glumly as he searched his brain for the right words to say 

but when he allows his mind to wonder for too long, it always comes back to one thing

so figured that he’d hold off breaking-up with you until your first time and from there — depending on how good you are — he’ll decide whether he wants to dump you or keep you around just as a side fling

the day eventually came three months later, not that he was complaining though as he’s developed a lot more patience since he’s started dating you 

you had just came back from a date at the bowling alley and something about seeing Oikawa in bowling shoes and a partially unbuttoned shirt was enough to make you go feral so as soon as you arrived at his house, y’all went for it

in all honesty, sex with you just hit different for oikawa

it was nothing like he’s ever experienced before

like it was kind, sensual and filled with mutual praise and he truthfully never wanted it to end but once it did and he was sprawled out on the bed next you, breathing heavily with your fingers intertwined, he realised that he didn’t want to break up with anymore

the last 4 months that you guys have been dating, truthfully was the best time of his life, like he feels so happy and genuine when he’s around you, there’s no way he’d leave you now

‘I love you, (y/n).’ he hummed, turning his head to the side to look at your peaceful figure laying next him - god, you’re beautiful

‘I love you too, Tōru.’

Tetsurō Kuroo

him and bokuto had a bet to see who could fuck more ppl in a month 

the third year gym squad gc was confused but not too confused i mean this is kuroo and bokuto we’re talking about

akaashi, kenma and tsukishima were all disapproving of this idea for their own reasons

akaashi thought it was immoral while kenma and tsukishima thought it was just a ‘who can get an std first competition’

as for hinata and lev, shōyō had his bet on bokuto while lev was rooting for kuroo

kuroo was going to start his hunt for sex partners at the club tonight but he had already agreed that he’d do the business assignment with you tonight and since it was a partnered thing, he’d feel guilty if he opted out last minute 

he sat on his bed while you took a seat at his desk, working away at the project while kuroo ‘supervised’

kuroo was bummed that bokuto was probably getting laid rn while he was stuck in his room doing an assignment- WAIT

you were here with him ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ and he was like..90% sure you had the thing for him soooo

he immediately sprung up from his bed and shuffled towards you, grabbing your hips to momentarily lift you up so he could pull you away from the project and onto his lap as he sat on his bed, tracing your jaw with his finger

‘time for a break~’ he cooed in your ear, massaging your thigh with spare hand, ‘only if want though, doll.’

xdfghj OFC YOU DID

consent = given ✨

kuroo = hard

your sex = destroyed

ass = red

you = overstimulated as hell 💅

if you started during the day, expect the sun to have gone down by the time y’all were finished

he offered to take you on a date so you both could do this again sometime and you said yes

but he reassured himself that you were only a hook up- definitely nothing serious- no feelings whatsoever

so a week later, he took you on a sweet, wholesome date to a carnival and you got railed afterwards 🥰

your next few dates went in a similar way until one fateful day where you were just..tired

neither of you really wanted to smash tbh, you were just happy laying in each other’s arms 

and as time went on, you guys went on more dates where there was absolutely no sexual activities, just sweet intimacy 

and he...... liked it 

why did he like it???

you were nothing more than a sexual relief to him, right??

so why did he enjoy cuddling with you so much? shouldn’t he be fuckin you rn? but he didn’t want to...like he was lowkey vibin with you in his arm while watching modern family 

then he looked down at you in his arms, the light of the screen highlighting your features beautifully

‘i think i might actually want to marry you one day.’ he blurted out, lightly tracing the bridge of your nose with his finger

this caught you off-guard so you looked up at him, an adorable pink blush dusting your cheeks, ‘really?’ was all you could think to reply 

‘yeah.’

Osamu Miya

ofc it was a bet with atsumu ofc it was a bet with atsumu 

‘who could get the hotter s/o competition?’ and suna would decide who wins

the twins had a month to get a s/o who was hot asf

so osamu asked you out in maths bc you were the most attractive person he kinda already talks too

you said yes as you sorta kinda maybe had a lil’ thing for him

however, he didn’t even ask you out on a date

in fact, he barely even talked to you after he asked you out until the day came where suna judged which miya twin won the bet

osamu did ofc 

then he kinda forgot y’all were dating until one day you snapped him with the caption ‘???’

he was like ‘hey’

sorry i firmly believe he is the driest texter

anyway he felt bad for neglecting you for over a month so he said he’d make it up to you by taking you out to dinner

but he promised himself that dinner was only an apology and right afterwards, he’d cut you off

he was scrolling through his phone, looking for places to take you and although he wanted to just get take-out, even he knew that fast-food probably wasn’t a very romantic date idea

wait- he didn’t care about it being romantic- did he??

eventually he settled on an expensive restaurant bc getting you a take-away probably wasn’t a very good apology 

so anyway he took you out and he actually had a pretty good time ^^ 

i mean, when you coincidentally ordered the same thing off the menu as him- he kinda caught feelings

osamu would definitely realise that he fell for you faster than oikawa and kuroo

just the way his hand just feels a pull towards yours when you’re walking side-by-side is a dead giveaway

so once the date is over and he dropped you off at your house, instead of breaking up with you as he planned, he simply placed a tender kiss on your forehead and smiled, ‘we should do this again soon.’

when he saw the way your face lit up and you squealed slightly, he knew he made the right decision

[arduadastra]

Te lo suplico

A/N @tobealostwanderer is a menace and asked how I thought the boys would deal with edging and then put the image of Javi in my mind and I was done for.

My Masterlist

Paring: F!Reader x Javier Peña

Minors, please exit this train: **MAJOR NSFW** warnings, F!Reader, Edging, Overstimulation, swearing, restraints, fingering and Dom!Javi.

Javier's day had been utter shit. Endless paperwork and no new leads which really meant the whole day had been pointless and he was strung tight. You could tell as soon as he walked in he hadn't had a good one, he was all tight shoulders and clenched fists. He already had a cigarette between his teeth too, his jaw clenched in frustration.

You knew he needed to relax, to take back control and you knew exactly what was coming when he called out, "Cariño? I need you in bed. Now."

You complied. Usually, you'd put up a fight, argue with him a little bit, but that's just to prolong the inevitable and you had a feeling Javier's patience was running thin.

You spread yourself out on the sheets, already in just your underwear thanks to the sweltering heat inside your small apartment and Javi soon appeared at the door, tie loose and a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips.

He said nothing but his eyes spoke to you enough, dark brown and eyelids hooded with silent desire. You had his favourite lingerie on after all. You propped a knee up, fingers skimming over the soft lace covering your core, fabric already damp in anticipation.

At your movement, Javi sucked in a breath, dragging the cigarette long and slow before dropping it to the window sill and exhaling, smoke curling around his figure as he moved towards you. He swept his jacket off his shoulders and grasped your wrist, still resting over your underwear. He tuts, "Did I say you could touch? Chica mala.."

He keeps one hand on your wrist as you smile, he uses the other to loosen his belt. He tugs it through his belt loops, stretching the fabric over his clothed cock slightly and you moan. He cocks an eyebrow and loops the belt over your restrained hand, eventually tying it to the headboard and pulling it tight.

"If you disobey me again cariño, I'll tie the other one up too."

His voice is rough from his cigarette and you love it, he sounds dark, dangerous and primal and it lights you up from the inside. You squirm and rub your thighs together as you feel yourself getting wetter and Javi slaps your thigh. He spreads your legs wide and you hear his chest rumble when he says, "This all for me? Christ, I haven't even touched you yet."

He skims the pad of his finger down the lace and you thrust forward. He stops immediately and cocks his head. You curse, "Fu-fuck sorry, I won't move I promise. Please."

He backs up slightly and takes his slacks off, boxers too but so slowly that you know he's doing it to waste time and you hate it. He unbuttons his shirt sinfully slow too, watching as you hold yourself back and he feels himself harden as you follow his orders. God, he needed this.

He rejoins you on the bed, fingers tracing feather light down your fabric-covered slit and you bite your lip in an effort to remain still. After a while, he presses down onto your clit and you gasp, "Javi!"

He smirks, eyes trained on your face as he rubs his finger insistently on the bundle of nerves and you could cry at how god damn good it felt. Rough fabric mixed with his circling fingers had you close embarrassingly fast and you begged, "I-I-'m close, fu- Javi shi- I'm gonna..." but he stops.

You sob at the lack of contact, orgasm simmering so close but with nothing to push you over the edge it flows away and you feel tears in your eyes. Javi kisses you then, shushing you gently as he breathes into your open mouth, "Shhh, be patient. You can wait for it."

You shake your head as he presses his hand back down, now rubbing the heel of his hand against your aching clit and you cry out as your orgasm bursts forward, "Please! Please let me, I cant Javi, I feel it!"

He keeps going, "Hold it back, be a good girl and hold it for me." He watches as you tremble, legs moving restlessly as you try to keep the burning ache between your legs from expanding and you pant. He kisses you, deep and hot and your other hand comes down to grip his wrist, "Please I can't, I can-"

He grabs your hand, pushing it into the bed and uses the other to tug your hair back, looking directly into your tearful eyes, "What did I say about moving?"

The brief respite has you gasping repeating the same phrase over and over, desperate for him to hear, "I wanted to be good, I just wanted to be good."

He can't fault you there.

"Okay amor, I'll let you get away with that one, but next time I won't be so generous." He releases your hand to now pull down your soaked underwear, running it down your legs and flinging it to the floor. He presses a finger to your slit and you both moan.

He lets it enter you, torturously slow and you hate the cocky smirk on his face when he feels you clench around him in desperation. He pumps it, bumping that inner spot every so often to keep you on the edge. The sensation is never in a predictable pattern and all too soon you feel your orgasm on the horizon. You haven't been given permission yet so you warn him, "Jav. I-" He listens this time, withdrawing the finger and popping it into his mouth to taste you. His other hand starts rubbing himself over his boxers at the taste and he moans at the relief of pressure.

"Ready for my cock cariño? You've been such a good girl, I think you deserve it now."

You nod frantically, secured wrist straining against the loop of leather keeping it bound and you watch as he releases himself, hovering over you one more, cock brushing against your wet folds.

He rasps out, "You tell me if you get close again. Maybe I'll let you cum this time." and pushes into you. You moan at the stretch, and its clear his own patience is running thin because he fucks you.

You jostle up the bed, his pace brutal and unrelenting, his hands come up to cup your tits and he squeezes, grunting through the effort of his thrusts. "Dios mío, you're beautiful like this, so submissive, ready for whatever I need, huh? Ready to be used." You agree, moaning back, "Yes, fuck yeah Javi, all yours."

He snarls, hands now moving to your hips, hitching your leg up over his waist as he pushes deeper, now hitting that spot he was teasing earlier. His grip is hard, definitely bruising and you love every second.

You've lost track of what number this must be but you feel your orgasm building again and Javi must sense it too, his other hand now rubbing slow circles on your clit, a harsh contrast to the slam of his hips against your ass.

"You feel it baby? You want it? You need it? Suplicar por él" (beg for it)

"Please, I'm so close, I'm so close. I can feel it, please. I've been so good, you make me feel so good I can't help it, I can't hold it..." You end on a whimper, "Please?"

He lets your plea hang in the air a moment and you feel the first few sparks begin to burn in your stomach, your toes curl as you vehemently hold your impending orgasm at bay, waiting for his response.

Sweat drips from Javi's brow, he can feel you quivering around him and he's damn close himself just from watching you obey him, he grunts his response as his eyes meet yours, "Cum now or don't come at all."

And god damn it if that isn't the hottest thing he's ever said.

Even if he had said no you're not sure you could've held back the powerful wave of pleasure that washes over you, your restrained hand clenches and the other pulls at Javi's hair as you gush around his cock, wetting the sheets below. You close your eyes at the onslaught, chest heaving as you ride your high.

Javi presses his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder and bites, your tightness sending him into his own orgasm, filling you up with warmth and you moan as another orgasm overwhelms you at the sensation.

Javi feels that too and the idea of you coming purely from the fact he did stokes his fire to no end. If he wasn't pushing 50 he'd have easily come again but he resigns himself instead to sucking a purple bruise over the bite mark he's left as he savours the tremours of your pussy around his cock.

He reaches up, still buried deep and releases your tied hand, pressing a kiss to the red mark left behind, he apologises into the soft skin and you couldn't care less at the mark - you're drifting.

You must've fallen asleep because you wake up to him withdrawing himself, and you clench your legs together to stop the mess spilling out but he's quick to stop you. His head pushes your legs away and he dives between your folds, tongue lapping at your combined release.

You wine at the overstimulation but he keeps going, sucking and making the most obscene noises against you that you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment. He laps at your clit and you wine again, hands going to push him away but he stays put, only lifting his head, mouth wet from your arousal, to say "Did I say I was done with you yet?"

You were in for a long night.

------

A/N: I am a mess and I need to be stopped - also please correct my Spanish, the Duolingo owl only gets you so far and definitely doesn't teach you how to write Javier Peña fucking you into oblivion.

Request something (or yell at me - either one)

Tagging my loves: @asta-lily @buttercup--bee @rattlethe-stars @tobealostwanderer

[tsumwriter]

Second Best (Kuroo x Reader)

Kuroo angst where I lowkey made him a dick... sorry Kuroo stans 

Objects were being miscellaneously thrown in the air as chairs were being knocked down while you and Kuroo spit out spiteful words that neither of you really meant. 

You were fuming but really all you wanted to do was cry. 

You were tired from these fights where Kuroo would just try to get a rise out of you and vice versa. 

Typically, they were over the dumbest things like you forgetting to put your used mug in the sink or Kuroo forgetting to put the toilet seat down. They were usually dumb things like this, but today was different. 

A few hours before the fight, you had come home excited to tell Kuroo about your big promotion that you had been offered. 

You were currently a recent graduate and intern at a fashion company in Tokyo, but if you accepted, you would be a formal employee of the Paris branch. 

Of course you were going to decline, what with the recent engagement and the upcoming wedding, but you wanted to tell him anyway because it was a big deal to you. But after today, you weren’t sure if Kuroo was worth staying for. 

You had made Kuroo’s favorite meal to share the exciting news, but he had come home late without a phone call or even a text, and when you brought it up he exploded on you. 

‘Do I need to tell you everything? God, you’re my fiance not my mom.’ 

‘Well if you just told me the fucking truth then I wouldn’t need to ask every time!’ 

The saddest part was, he didn’t need to tell you where he was or who he was with because you already knew the answer to that: hanging out with his ex, Kozume Kenma. 

Kenma always seemed to be at the center of all of your fights. No matter how it started, the end was Kenma because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t be Kenma. 

Today was no different. 

“I was with Kenma because I was trying to get away from you!” 

As soon as Kuroo spit out those words, the air in the room thickened and the temperature dropped, along with your heart. 

Each word was like a dagger to your heart and you fell into the couch in defeat. 

At first, Kuroo felt a sick satisfaction because he felt like he had won the argument. But when he saw you hugging your knees tightly while looking away from him, he knew that he had taken it too far. 

You weren’t even crying, you were just completely dejected and so was Kuroo. 

He plopped down on the other side of the couch and the only sound in the room was the creak of the couch as his weight fell onto it. 

The silence surrounding the two of you was suffocating but neither of you wanted to say the inevitable… This had to end, but no one wanted to end it. 

But you were stronger than Kuroo. You knew this. 

Kuroo Tetsuro was still in love with his ex-boyfriend and refused to admit it while you were already coming to terms with the fact that you were always second place. At first, you thought that the engagement would change him but eventually you realized that it was just you foolishly in love. 

So you broke the news to him, the ‘exciting’ news that had started this entire ordeal. 

Chin on your knees, you quietly muttered, “I was offered a promotion.” 

Kuroo’s eyes widened and he turned to you. This is what you wanted to talk about. This was why you were so excited when he came home… And then he blew up on you. 

He wanted to congratulate you. To hold you in his arms as he told you what a wonderful job you were doing but seeing you look so broken, because of what he said filled him with so much guilt that he couldn’t move. 

So he just waited for you to continue and hoped that you would forgive him. 

Meanwhile, you were looking down at the ground as you were contemplating your next words. 

A tearful breath escaped your lips as you continued. 

“It’s a textile designing position in Paris and I’m taking it.” 

You looked at the man to your left and observed his shocked expression. 

“I’m tired of this, Tetsuro- tired of us… Of you acting like you’re in love with me when we both know it was never me.” 

Kuroo reached out to pull you into his embrace, but you stood up and turned your back towards him, facing the window looking out into the city.

“(y/n)... babe, I can change. I’m sorry.” 

You laughed bitterly as you felt the salty tears falling down your face. Shaking your head, you wore a sad smile on your face before you turned to the now crying man on the couch. 

Kuroo was hunched over with his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His body was shaking as he sobbed silently. 

You walked over to him and knelt on the ground next to him. 

When he felt your body next to his, he looked up with tears in his eyes. 

“I swear, it’s just a stage, baby. Everyone falls out of love but we’ll be okay. We’ll be oka-”

You shushed him gently and kissed the tears on his cheeks for the last time. 

“Tetsuro, you can’t fall out of love if you were never in love.” 

Kuroo furrowed his brows in confusion to which you laughed softly. God, he was in so much denial. 

You brought a hand to move the hair that was covering his eyes and cupped his cheek. 

“I have to go.” 

He shook his head furiously as he watched you take off your ring.

“No, please! Say the word and I’ll even cut off Kenma.” 

A tired sigh escaped you as you set the ring down on the coffee table. There was no truth in his words. This was just him saying anything and everything to get you to stay but you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Please don’t hurt me more than you already have.” 

Kuroo blinked away his tears as he watched you walk towards your shared bedroom. 

He was crying and his mouth was still spewing out apologies but some part of him felt the slightest bit of relief. 

‘I’m a monster,’ he thought to himself as he chased after you. 

-- several years later 

It was a Saturday, and you were looking out the huge window enjoying the crisp morning air on your face. 

With Paris fashion week behind you, work was slowing down, and you felt like you could finally breathe a little. Weekends finally felt like weekends and you could do things like staring out your window for no reason. Now you could finally go to the cafe you were meaning to check out, try the new rooftop bar, and visit the wineries. 

As you were going down the mental list of things you wanted to do, you heard your phone ringing.

It was an unknown number with a Japanese area code. 

‘Probably work,’ you thought. 

Since headquarters were in Japan, it was common to get random phone calls from Tokyo. It was a little odd that they were calling you on a Saturday, but you just assumed there was a client emergency so you picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello? Is this (l/n) (f/n)?” 

Your heart stopped and you felt your breath hitch. How had he gotten your number? You’d gotten a new European number and only gave it to a select few in Japan. 

“Kuroo-kun, how’d you get my number?” 

This time, it was Kuroo’s turn to react. 

It had been years since the breakup, but for some reason it felt foreign, almost painful, hearing you call him by his surname. But after what he put you through, who the fuck was he to dictate what you should call him now? 

He was just glad that your voice held no venom towards him. 

Maybe Kenma was right- maybe you didn’t hate him as much as he hated himself for hurting you. 

“Hi (y/n), it’s been a while, huh? I got your number from Hitomi-chan, had to beg her for it though.” 

You let out a soft laugh that contrasted the pang in your chest as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You had moved on- built an entirely new life without him, but hearing him say your name made you feel weak. But you had come too far to come crashing down again. 

“Yeah… A few years, right? How’ve you been?” 

Kuroo laughed softly, and you could imagine what he looked like. Eyes squinting the tiniest bit and his mouth turned up into the grin that you loved so much. 

“I’ve been great… Getting married actually.” 

You felt your jaw clench as you searched your brain for appropriate responses. 

It took a few seconds but you eventually responded. 

“Congratulations, that’s really exciting!” 

You flinched at how fake your own enthusiasm sounded but hoped Kuroo wouldn’t pick up. 

“It is… but I wanted to be the first one to tell you. It only felt right to tell you before you found out through instagram or something.” 

A small smile appeared on your face, even after all these years he was still thinking about you. 

“That’s thoughtful of you, Kuroo-kun. Thank you.” 

“It’s the least I can do.”

There was a brief silence before Kuroo called your name again. 

“Hey (y/n)?”

“Yes?” 

You could hear Kuroo swallow loudly and fumble with some kind of fabric, which you assumed was him loosening his tie. 

“I’m really sorry for how things ended. You deserved better and I wish I could’ve been a better man for you.” 

You paused and wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks before responding. 

“What do you want me to say, Tetsuro?” 

Your voice was shaky but so was his. Kuroo was crying too. 

“Nothing… I just want you to know that I loved you. As hard as that must be to believe, I did love you and I don’t regret one moment with you.” 

You covered your mouth and moved the phone away from your face as you tried to control your breathing through the crying. When you could breath somewhat normally, you brought the phone back to your ear. 

“I have to go, Kuroo-kun.” 

He cleared his throat, “Of course, you must be really busy.” 

Your heart was racing as you tried to decide whether or not to tell him that you were still in love with him. That there wasn’t a day that passed by where you didn’t wish you could run back into his arms. That you regretted leaving him and not just settling being his second best. 

“Hey Tetsuro?” 

“Hm?” 

Should you tell him? 

No, you would never tell him. 

“Congratulations again.” 

This was your secret to have and to hold. 

[tiredb0igivemesugars]

It takes a village

Summary: ftm y/n comes out, scared of his dad's reaction but Tony Stark manages to be full of surprises.

📝words:📝 994

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ swearing, gender dysphoria, anxiety, transphobia (kinda)

💙Pairing:💙 Tony Stark!dad and reader!son

📎note:📎 hi! sorry for being gone for so long. I'm having a really bad writer's block but here's an old one I found. Also no proof read.

Have you ever had to wake up to a body that didn’t feel like yours? A life that didn’t feel like yours? Have you ever had the urge to cry and throw up when you walk down to the kitchen in the morning and your dad greets you with ”good morning my beautiful daughter”? Have you wanted to scream: ”That’s not me!” ”I am not your daughter!”

Is PE just a relentless nightmare because of the changing rooms?

Is every waking moment pure agony?

If you answered yes to any of these questions you probably are Tony Stark’s daughter. Yes, daughter, because that’s how you were born. In a girl’s body, hating every second of it.

In the back of your mind, you knew your dad would accept you, you just didn’t think that you were ready to have that conversation. In some parts of your brain, you held back because you didn’t want to bother anyone with it. It always seemed like there was something more pressing at hand, you could do just one more day as Tony Stark’s daughter.

Your alarm clock disturbed your peaceful sleep, waking you up to reality. You groaned, remembering who you were and what today would hold for you. Thursday. School. Preparations for tomorrow’s charity ball, which you were also supposed to attend.

You had a dress fitting tomorrow morning, could not wait for that.

Dressing quickly for school, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the usual coffee and looking for something light for breakfast in the fridge.

”Good morning princess.” You heard your dad say as he walked in, you bit back on a groan before turning to face him and smile.

”Morning dad.”

The both of you sat down, enjoying the minutes of silence before Steve would walk in with something new to ramble about, he was really talkative in the mornings. Always bombarding everyone with questions. His voice could already be heard down the hall. He was talking with Natasha.

”Yeah but I don’t get it, why can’t I call her that? It’s her name.” Steve probed.

”Firstly, it’s not she, it’s he and second because his name is Elliot.” Natasha explained, clearly trying her best to remain calm while navigating through the kitchen for food.

It was quite clear to you that they were talking about Elliot Page. Steve had watched Juno last night and was more than confused when everyone kept talking about Elliot when that wasn’t the name that was credited in the movie.

Should you but in? Well, you should but could you?

”You know what, talk to her, she’s young, she knows more about these things. I’m old and I’m from Russia.” Natasha finally snapped. ”Her” was an indication to you. You had to explain to the 100-year-old man about trans people while trying to hide your own identity, that’s 3rd-degree interrogation right there.

Without missing a beat Steve sat in front of you, looking at you like you’d have all the answers in the world, all he had to do was listen.

"What?” You asked, trying to play oblivious.

”This Elliot thing, I’m confused.” Steve clarified.

”Well yeah, his name is Elliot and uses he him pronouns.” You tried to explain without going too much into detail.

”What are pronouns?”

”Well like she, her, he, him and even they and them.” You could’ve gone more in-depth with neo pronouns but you decided to cut him some slack since he was basically a grandpa.

”I don’t follow.”

”Well I am assuming that you go by he and him pronouns, right? That’s what that means. Natasha is most likely she and her. You understand how that works, don’t you?”

Steve’s face was blank as if he was still processing.

”So..” Steve began.

”He and him.” He said and pointed to himself.

”She and her.” Pointing at Natasha.

”He and him.” Tony’s turn.

Oh god.

”She and her.” He pointed to you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to not let emotion convey you.

”Y-yeah.” You wanted to stutter out.

There was something different about this. He pointed at you while he said it, it went right through you. You couldn’t stand another day being Tony Stark’s daughter.

”Actually, no.” You corrected, already feeling the anxiety beginning to bubble. Hands getting shakier, breathing just that much harder than you knew you couldn’t breathe properly.

”Wait now I’m confused.” Steve said and put his hands up as a sign of giving up.

”Dad, I’m not your daughter anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.” You confessed, trying to keep it lowkey despite your anxiety. You could tell that your voice was shaking, you cursed yourself for it.

Tony seemed to have frozen, staring down at his cup of coffee.

Fuck. Shouldn’t have said anything.

Tony cleared his throat.

”So we should probably get you a suit, right? Can’t have you wearing no dress tomorrow night.” Tony turned to smile at you.

The anxiety that had bubbled in your chest, threatening to overspill, had died down.

You let out a relieved sigh, the weight finally off of your shoulders.

Tony pulled out his phone. ”What name should I put for the suit fitting tomorrow at 10.30 AM?”

”Y/n”

”Hm, it fits you. Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He said and reached to give you a shoulder rub and a warm smile.

A plate clattered against the table, the table sliding towards you. ”Pancakes for y/n,” Natasha said and offered you a smile.

You couldn’t be Tony Stark’s daughter. What you could be was Tony Stark’s son.

The suit was fitted to you, a jacket to give the illusion of wide shoulders and straight-legged pants.

And when the inevitable wave of anxiety came right before you were supposed to walk past all the reporters, Tony was there. Offered your shoulder the familiar squeeze.

”It’ll be alright.”

And it would be, eventually, because you were y/n Stark, Tony Stark’s son.

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: I - Injuries

Summary: When an offhand comment gets made about who receives the most injuries a big debate takes place to discuss this. Unable to agree on anything, the Bats decide to keep score of who gets the most injuries over the next 12 months. The results may surprise you. 

Enjoy! :D

The blissful silence within his apartment is rudely interrupted by the shrill of his phone suddenly ringing inside his pocket. Jason groans. Five minutes. Why couldn’t he just get five minutes of peace? Was that so much to ask for?

Cursing every god imaginable, Jason digs through his pocket until he finds and receives the device before scowling upon seeing the caller ID. Answering the call, he brings it up to his ear and doesn’t hesitate to snap a greeting, making it clear he isn’t pleased about being disturbed. “What do you want?”

“So there’s been a situation…” a hesitant voice speaks up on the other side of the phone.

Jason reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. That sentence alone is enough to start giving him a headache.

“How the fuck is there a situation? I left you guys not even fifteen minutes ago! I thought you were heading back to the cave?”

“Yeah, we were, but on the way back we heard gun shots and we found a gang fight happening. We intervened but while fighting Nightwing unfortunately got stabbed.”

Being told his brother has been stabbed makes Jason pause. There’s a remark on the end of his tongue that desperately wants to slip out but he doesn’t know if this is the right time for it. The tone of voice on the other side of the line makes it difficult to determine how serious the situation is.

“How bad is it?”

“Oh not that bad!” Tim chirps, Jason could now hear the amusement lacing his tone. “It’s just a stab wound on the thigh, more of a scratch than anything. Won’t need stitches or nothing. I figured I’d ring you to let you know because this now changes the board.”

Jason breathes out a long sigh and feels the tension leave his body. At least it’s not life threatening. This fucking family, he swears to God, if he hadn’t already been sent to an early grave he certainly would be now.

“So it’s enough to warrant a mark on the board?” Jason questions eagerly, already knowing what impact the answer will have. Now he knows it’s not serious he can think about other things.

“Oh yeah definitely.” Tim claims and Jason could easily hear the smile in his voice. “Even when it happened he muttered a curse and mentioned how it’s unfair because that now puts you ahead of him.”

At that Jason cackles. He bids his brother a goodbye before hanging up. Still laughing Jason moves through his apartment to his kitchen, digging through one of the draws he pulls out a large whiteboard and makes the needed changes to it.

This is something they all came up with at the start of the year from an offhand comment about who gets the most/least injuries out of their family. The comment triggered off a big debate and the result of it was to keep score of who gets the most injuries in the next 12 months.

They do not count life threatening injuries, because believe it or not they are not assholes and it wouldn’t be fair or even funny. Any minor injury can count (or at least minor for them). Any injuries done outside of the costume also count.

There are only a couple months left of the year but it’s currently pretty tight between most of them. Surprisingly Steph is winning with the least number of injuries so far. Following her, again surprisingly, is Damian. After him is Harper, Duke, Tim and then Jason. With his new injury today that puts Dick in last place, officially making Jason second to last. They hadn’t included Cass because firstly she didn’t want to be involved and secondly anytime she does get injured, which is extremely rare, it’s usually serious, so they collectively decided to not have Cass participate. Babs wasn’t interested and made it very clear on what her opinions of the competition was.

Before the new injury, Jason and Dick were in joint last place. His older brother now sustaining a new non-life-threatening injury changes the board. Jason couldn’t be happier, now he just has to make sure to not get injured at all in the next couple of months.

That in itself will be a challenge, but one not to be beaten easily Jason is up for it. He doesn’t care where he comes on the board, just as long as he beats Dick that’s all that matters.

---------

Like most of the year, the last few months fly by and before Jason knows it, it’s New Year’s Eve and he’s attending a party with all of his friends and family.

While the party is being hosted at Wayne Manor, so somewhere familiar, there’s tension in the air which can be felt no matter where you go. To most it’s probably the anticipation of midnight approaching, that excitement that comes along with the clock striking twelve and the supposedly start of something new.

To Jason, however, it’s a count down until the results are revealed.

Jason has a vague idea of what the final results are going to be, after all he kept track of everything himself. Then again, it’s vague because he’s been away on a mission for the last three weeks only having gotten back two days ago. He hasn’t yet had a chance to catch up with everything that may have happened in those weeks he had been gone. For all he knows the board may have changed significantly and he wouldn’t have a clue.

Not long before midnight, Jason soon finds himself in the library with his siblings and friends. They’re scattered around the room sitting on the sofas and the floor with the news on in the background.

Cass stands front and center with a white board in hand ready to announce the results of who has sustained the least and the greatest number of injuries in the past year. They asked Cass to announce it as she hadn’t taken part, that way it’s fair and not biased.

Looking around the room Jason could see a variety of facial expression on his siblings faces. Some wearing smirks, like they know exactly what the results are, while other’s wear an expression of anticipation, clearly unsure on where they’ve come on the board.

Cass announces the names in ascending order, starting with last place first. To Jason’s absolute delight, Dick is in last place. He’s so happy to hear that he had beaten his brother in getting less injuries than him in a year. Dick simply sends Cass a tight smile and nod, obviously knowing he had lost before anything was declared.

After Dick is Jason. If he’s being honest, Jason is actually happier about that than the principle of being second to last, he beat Dick and that’s all that mattered. He certainly made sure Dick was aware of his delight.

After Jason is Duke, followed by Steph which was a surprise considering she had been in first for a really long time. Apparently she had a bad couple of months, reckless behaviour and stupid mistakes eventually added to her total therefore dropping her down the leader board.

Taking third place is Damian. Jason looks over at where he’s sat and he finds the kid fuming, clearly unhappy with his final position. In second place is Tim, which seems to surprise almost everyone, including Tim himself. The teenager sits on the sofa looking completely baffled but thrilled at the news. That finally leaves Harper taking first place as the person to have the least number of injuries in the past year. She jumps up to her feet yelling with joy and dancing around the room excitedly.

After the scores are announced Cass gives out little awards just as something extra which makes it all the more entertaining.

The most out-of-costume injuries award goes to Tim, who instantly claims that most of his injuries are because his best friends are meta’s and because he skateboards. No one believes the excuses however they don’t call him out on it.

The most ridiculous injury goes to Dick, who then explains how he got said injury. Apparently he miscalculated a jump when chasing someone and ended up scraping his side on a metal bin. Everyone stares at him after that story, wondering how such an experienced vigilante and acrobat even does that.

The most badass injury goes to Steph. She had gotten into a fist fight in the middle of the mall after some guys started shouting out vulgar language. Not taking any of their shit Steph beat them all to a pulp but not without taking some collateral damage herself. That award felt well deserved though it could have gone to someone else.

After wrapping up their competition they all decide to stay in the library and chill. They cheer for the new year when the clock strikes twelve and all exchange “happy new year’s.” They don’t go adventuring out to the party again which inevitably leads to Bruce hunting for them, out of worry or suspicion Jason’s not sure but when his adoptive father eventually walks into the library he’s met with a loud chorus of greetings

Bruce studies the group with narrowed eyes in suspicion. He meets each of their gazes before straightening up and leveling them all a glare.

“What’s going on? I haven’t seen any of you in a few hours only to find you all gathered in here, not fighting may I add. What have you done?”

Dick’s the first to respond. Being the oldest of the group he probably feels inclined to, especially when no one else offers up an explanation. “Wow Bruce, give us a benefit of the doubt would you, we’re simply enjoying being with one another for a change. New year and all that. Who knows, this may the start of something new.”

Bruce’s disbelieving expression conveys perfectly what he thinks of that explanation.

The room falls silent as they all stare at one another. Gestures and nods are shared between them as they try to get someone else to speak up but everyone stays silent, no one saying a peep. They never told Bruce about the competition; they really don’t know how the man would take the news but they’re all certain it wouldn’t be taken well. He definitely wouldn’t see the funny side of the whole thing, even if they explain the rules to it and how they’re not actually assholes and wouldn’t include life threatening wounds to the count.

In the end it doesn’t matter because eventually Bruce puts his hands up and shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Whatever it is just keep it to yourselves and if you make a mess, clean it up. The less I know the better.”

With no more words Bruce turns around and leaves the room. For several moments after the man’s sudden departure they each exchange baffled looks, silently questioning what just happened. It stays like that for a while until several members of the family simultaneously shrug. The action causes an eruption of laughter and all of them end up cackling until they couldn’t breathe and had tears running down their faces.

[cocoswriting]

lee wilbur, ler techno? maybe smth where wilbur’s being chaotic so techno takes him down a peg? you dont have to tho— /gen

Chaotic Mf

Summary; Basically what the ask says; Wilbur was being chaotic/creepy and needed to be taken down a peg. [PLATONIC. DO NOT TAG AS SHIP.]

Warning(s); This is a tickle fic! If you don’t like that kind of stuff, then I recommend you just scroll past.

“You put ecosystems in jars?..”

“Yeah,” Wilbur responded casually, laying upside-down on the couch opposite Techno. He had his legs curled over the back of the couch and his head was dangling off the edge—it was a wonder how he hadn’t gotten uncomfortable enough to shift positions yet. Wilbur seemed to have a strange habit of never sitting correctly when he was in one of his “chaotic” moods, always finding some weird way to rest instead. “I go out and collect mud, rocks, soil, and I put them inside the jar.” he explained, and Techno scrunched up his face both in confusion and mild disgust.

“And... this is a normal thing?” Techno asked disbelievingly, flipping a page in the book he had in his hands, though it wasn’t as if he was paying much attention to the text anymore. Wilbur nodded happily from across the room, grinning as he opened his mouth to continue explaining, only to get cut off by Techno. “Wil, I don’t really care. I’m tryn’ to read right now.”

Wilbur huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting in fake dismay and staring at Techno almost expectantly, even though the piglin was very clearly no longer looking at him. “Well, you should care,” the brunet replied with a sassy tone of voice, sounding akin to an annoyed child. “I swear I’m not the only one who does this! Ranboo does it too, or at least he did...”

“Ranboo did that—?... No, Wilbur, really, just talk about literally anythin’ else. I do not care about your jar ecosystems,” Techno was already used to dealing with Wilbur’s chaotic moods. They’d come in at random times, last a couple hours, and then eventually he’d lose all the excess energy he had and go back to “normal.” So it wasn’t as if he actually expected Wil to stop when he was told to—Techno knew he wouldn’t—but he figured he might as well try to change the topic that Wilbur would ramble on about. Honestly, Techno just wanted to read his book. “Can’t you bother someone else? It isn’t that late, Phil and Tommy are still up.”

Wilbur let out a loud, dramatic sigh followed by a shake of his head and a couple tutting sounds. “You’re no fun,” his tone was playful, indicative of the grin that was on his face, despite his words suggesting otherwise. “But fine! I’ll talk about something else.” Wilbur rolled himself over on the couch, sitting upright and then standing up to make his way over to the man sitting across from him. Techno tore his eyes away from the book and glanced up when he realised Wilbur had approached, raising an eyebrow and glaring half-heartedly at the musician.

“What?” Techno’s voice sounded tired, more tired than usual, but bore no real malice as he impatiently awaited Wilbur’s response.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

“Oh my god,” Techno looked down and rubbed his temples, dropping the book beside him and running one of his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. He heard Wilbur’s shrill laugh at his reaction, which was shortly followed by the sound of shuffling as he sat down next to the piglin and crossed his legs, seemingly prepping himself to start telling whatever story he wanted to tell Techno about. “Please.”

“I already told Phil about this one,” Wilbur began, biting back another laugh at Techno’s long sigh which came straight after. “So, there are these things called ‘weeping angels—!” Wil was quickly cut off by a rough jab to his side. He managed to force back any verbal reactions he might have given to the sudden electric tingly feeling that spread all throughout his side, but he couldn’t conceal the very obvious flinch and curling of his lips.

“You good?” Techno asked, having removed his hands from his face to shoot his brother a concerned glance. Wilbur felt heat rush to his face, but he couldn’t tell whether he’d paled, or gone red. “Did you...” He shifted closer to the brunet, cocking his head to one side. “You flinched,” The elder stated quite obviously, expression a mixture of curiosity and interest.

“You caught me off-guard,” Wilbur quickly stammered out, a sheepish half-smile spreading over his face. Techno frowned—and it was clear from just that gesture that he wasn’t buying it.

Techno placed one hand on his side and left it there, unmoving. Wilbur didn’t flinch that time, but he wanted to, his flustered state having raised his hypersensitivity to the point where he wanted to squirm even just imagining that Techno might find out. “I was just tryin’ to shut you up, you needa’ tell me what happened or I’ll assume that you’re hurt,” Techno said, beginning to slowly rub two(2) fingers in small circles on Wilbur’s side. The last part of his sentence came off as more of a threat to his brother—he didn’t want to worry Techno, but at the same time, getting found out like this would be so embarrassing.

“I-I’m not—“ Wilbur was cut off by a quiet gasp, but not quiet enough for Techno to let slip. One of Techno’s ears twitched at the sound and he made a gruff huffing noise, now reaching down to tug up the hem of his brother’s sweater, exposing the bottom half of his side. “Hey, I’m not hurt, okAY—!” Techno, being the oblivious bastard he was, began to rub gentle circles on Wilbur’s bare side, which elicited a comical noise sounding like a mix between a squeal and a yelp from the man. As Wil managed to squirm away from the tingles, butterflies erupted in his belly when he thought; there’s no getting out of this now.

Silence filled the room for a couple seconds, the gears turning in Techno’s head before it finally clicked, and he couldn’t help the smug expression that formed on his face when he realised what Wilbur had been trying to hide. “You’re ticklish,” he emphasised the ‘T-word’, causing Wilbur’s face to heat up even more, and the fact that Techno’s hand still remained hovering just ever-so-slightly above his side, was not helping. “How come I didn’t know this before? You keepin’ secrets from me, hm?” Techno shoved both of his hands up Wilbur’s shirt and gently ran his nails up and down his skin, eliciting a few snickers along with squeaks and he tried to muffle his giggles.

Wilbur frantically shook his head ‘no’ and looked down, his hair falling in front of his face and (thankfully) hiding his bright pink cheeks. Tingles and shockwaves of tickly sensations shot up his sides, the feeling only increasing the longer Techno’s fingers lingered in the same spot. “Well— you’re definitely much quieter now,” Techno remarked, and Wilbur opened his mouth to give a sassy response, only for a loud squeak to come out instead as the gliding nails began to gently scratch at each side of his back. He arched forward but shifted backwards, resting his back against the armrest and laying down. Wil had hoped this would quell the sensations at least a little, but it only made them worse, the little scratches becoming rougher as Techno’s fingers got trapped. “This seems like a good way to take you down a peg whenever you’re in one of your ‘chaotic’ moods.”

“N-no—hohahahaa!” As Techno moved his hands up to Wilbur’s ribs, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. High-pitched giggles flooded from Wilbur’s lips as he wriggled and squirmed, throwing his head back as his hands switched between trying to protect the targeted spots and trying to push Techno away. It wasn’t exactly working out for him, and eventually he just curled up, hoping to drown out the tickles somehow. It only got worse once he felt Techno begin to drill his thumbs into the spaces between each of the bones. “NOHO! DOHohon’t dohoho thahahat, plehehehahase!”

As Techno gazed down at the giggling boy, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt at the sight of his bright, carefree smile. “Why not?~” His tone of voice was still deadpan, but it had a sing-songy edge to it this time. If Wilbur had the guts to muster up insults at the time, he would’ve called him every name in the book just as revenge for the horrible teases. “Does it tickle too much? Surely you can’t be that ticklish, right?~” Every time the T-word was mentioned Wilbur felt the pit in his stomach fill with more butterflies, and his blush began to slowly spread out to his neck and ears. “It’s your own fault for bein’ annoyin’.”

“Ihihihi wahahasn’t beheheing ahahannoying!” Wilbur insisted, his giggles slowly increasing as Techno’s fingers danced their way up his ribs, heading for his armpits. But before they could reach the spot, he instinctively slammed his arms down to protect himself, blocking the offending hands just in time. It seemed that Techno took this defensive action as provoking, because his immediate response to that was to sigh disappointedly and start skittering around Wil’s neck and shoulders, causing him to scrunch up like a turtle and begin to wriggle side-to-side in a weak attempt at escaping the tickles. “Nohohoho! Fuhuhuahahack ohohoff— yohohou’re sohoho mehehehehahan!”

“Mean? This isn’t mean,” Wilbur could hardly make out Techno’s words anymore, considering he was much more focused on the shocks of tickles and his own embarrassment. But once he heard those words leave his brother’s lips, he couldn’t help but start squirming even harder on top of squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t process what the words meant in his state—but he’s heard that tone before. And that tone means ‘you fucked up’. “You wanna see mean?” Techno asked rhetorically and Wilbur began frantically shaking his head, letting out giggly little “nononono”s as he tensed, prepping himself for the inevitable attack that would come next.

“AAAHAA!” Wilbur shrieked as he felt Techno’s lips make contact with his tummy, quickly followed by an explosion of tickles as he blew a raspberry, shaking his head during it to make it even worse. Wil bucked, cackled and squealed, only for his hips to get held down and mercilessly drilled into by two(2) of Techno’s fingers. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire, and he felt everything—every last pinch to his hips, every raspberry that was blown, and it was almost too much for him to handle. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. “NAHAHAHAAA! TEHEHEHAHAHAHA—!”

Even after Techno ceased the raspberries, he still seemed fully intent on being as merciless as possible. He continued to drill right into the dip of Wilbur’s hipbone, using his other hand to rapidly squeeze his tummy, never letting up and never slowing down. Wilbur had completely given up on trying to fight back, his arms were too tired for that now and he knew it was no use, so instead he began using his hands to cover his bright pink face with. “Oh, poor Wilbur,” Techno began, a very obviously feigned sympathetic tone in his voice. “Being tickled is just such a hard job.”

“SHUHUAHAHAT UHUHUHUP!” Wilbur forced out through his hysterics, helplessly rolling his torso back and forth, attempting to focus his attention on literally anything else other than the tickles he was receiving. He couldn’t decide if he loved or hated it—it was unbearable and maddening, he felt like he was being driven up a wall, but at the same time he had to admit that he was having fun. He was soaking up all the attention like a sponge. It didn’t take much longer before his laughter became wheezy and strained, though, and he’d decided he had enough. “O-OHOHOKAHAY! STOHOHAHAHAHAP, THAHAHAHAT’S ENOHOHOHOUGH—!”

Techno listened straight away, ceasing the tickles and backing away as Wilbur curled in on himself, hugging his midsection while trying to rid of the after-tingles that still remained. “You alright?.. was it too much?” Techno asked, reaching over to deliver a couple, comforting pats to Wilbur’s head. He would’ve leaned away if it weren’t for how exhausted he was from all his laughter. “...sorry,”

“N-noho, noho... it,” Wilbur knew he should be careful with his choice of words there. He didn’t want to give away how much he’d actually enjoyed himself, but at the same time, he was well aware he’d likely given that fact away while being tickled. He supposed there was no point in lying—especially if it would risk making Techno worry over nothing. “...wahas nice.”

There was no response for a couple seconds, but then the silence was interrupted by a snort coming from Techno, and Wilbur instantly knew what he would have found amusing. But as Techno gently ran his fingers through his hair, practically soothing Wilbur to sleep, he found he didn’t care as much as he did before.

They should do this again sometime.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Happiness is Everything (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This wasn’t requested; I needed to give my boy some love, and a strong bond with Hvitserk. It’s nothing but a silly comfort fic.

@geekandbooknerd​ - Thank you for beta reading this for me 💖

@zuxiezendler​ - Thank you 😉🌸 (and you know why)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Ivar doesn't want any more set-ups. Hvitserk’s stubborn girlfriend disagrees.

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst due to Ivar’s temper and insecurities; an obvious lack of plot; lack of creativity; fluff+++.

Words: 2575

Stifling a hiss of pain, Ivar flops down on the couch, leaning his crutch against its armrest. 

 "Here." Hvitserk joins him, handing him a beer before gulping a long sip of his. "So, brother," Hvitserk's face is slightly crumpled as he looks at him, "There's a last-minute change." 

 With a tight-lipped expression on his face, Ivar frowns. He hates last-minute changes with a passion. "What are you talking about, Hvitserk?" He asks curtly while massaging his right thigh absently. 

 "Thora will be with us tonight." Hvitserk shrugs, his discomfort obvious. 

 "Okay." Ivar tilts his head, confused. Every Thursday night, he and his brother spend the night together. Usually at Hvitserk’s place, eating frozen pizzas – a lot of them, Hvitserk being Hvitserk. Most of the time, Thora, who enjoys spending time with her friends, leaves them alone. Sometimes she stays home though, and honestly, it's fine. The truth is, he likes Thora. She's smart and funny, and uncomplicated. Sure, he didn't warm to her right away. It took time. But now, it's okay. He probably won't say it out loud, but yeah, he likes her.

 "So…" Raising a brow, Ivar takes a sip of his beer, "It's no big deal." As Hvitserk keeps silent, Ivar scrutinizes him. His brother is clearly nervous and not at ease at all. Ivar slowly licks his lips. "What are you not telling me, brother?" He knows he's right when Hvitserk lowers his gaze.

 "Well…" Hvitserk clears his throat, "She won't be alone."

A wide-eyed look on his face, Ivar snarls, pursing his lips. "What does that mean, Hvitserk?" The icy cold tone of his voice matches his hard stare, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. 

 Hvitserk winces, "You know what it means, brother," before taking a seat in the armchair across from Ivar, the small coffee table between them suddenly highly appreciated. One can never be too careful when facing Ivar's anger. 

 "Are you fucking kidding me?" Clenching his jaw, Ivar bangs his fist on the table, and Hvitserk immediately leans forward, catching his brother's beer just before it falls down. 

 "I'm not, Ivar. Listen, I'm sorry but Tho–"

 Ivar cuts him off, running nervously his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it! Remember the fiasco with Thora's cousin? And then with her colleague? What was her name? Livia? Lisa? See, she didn’t even stay long enough for me to remember. Anyway, I thought I was pretty clear after that, wasn't I? Maybe you and your girlfriend should go and check your hearing, what do you think, hm, brother?" His voice dripping with sarcasm, Ivar gives Hvitserk dagger eyes, his pointer finger tapping the side of his head. "No more set-ups. That's what I said, right? Sounds pretty clear, huh? Do I need to tell it again, brother? Look at my mouth, I wouldn't want you to miss it this time,” He points to his lips then in a sarcastic manner, “No. More. Set-ups. No. More. Blind. Dates." Bottom lip quivering, Ivar, who's boiling mad, struggles to hold back his anger.

 "I know, brother…" Hvitserk swallows, rubbing his hand over his face, "but you know Thora means well, don't you? I briefly met Y/N once and honestly, she seemed nice enough. Plus, Thora's not really setting you up. We'll be together, the four of us, here, just eating pizza, it hardly counts as a date, don't you think?"

 Disgruntled, Ivar heaves an exasperated sigh, his nostrils flaring. "Stop playing dumb, Hvit, and don't tell me you've never heard of double dates!" He stares at his brother, his pupils dilated, shading his eyes darker blue. "Anyway, it doesn't matter." As he reaches for his crutch, a scowl on his face, Hvitserk stands up, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

 "Isn't that obvious?" Ivar mocks him while adjusting his legs in front of him. "I'm leaving!" Shifting his butt forward, he laces his left arm through the metal loop of his crutch, places his right hand on the coffee table, and then slowly hauls himself to his feet, grunting and swearing under his breath. He has a false start, where it seems he's going to fall right back onto the couch, but Hvitserk catches him skilfully, gripping his upper right arm. As soon as he's sure his baby brother has found his balance, Hvitserk releases his arm and Ivar gives him a tight, thank-you smile. 

 Hvitserk barely nods, as if nothing happened. And gosh, Ivar may be mad at him about this stupid set-up-non-set-up thing, but right now he's feeling mostly grateful. His brother not making a big deal out of his struggles never fails to amaze him.

With any other of his brothers, it wouldn't have been the same. 

Bjorn would have looked at him as if he were an utter failure, and then maybe helped him – out of pity, Ivar is sure of that – but not without paternally patting him on the shoulder; or even worse, on the head. The thought makes him cringe and he shakes his head, chasing it away. Bjorn is no longer around anyway, busy traveling around the world with his fourth wife. Or maybe it's the fifth? Ivar lost count a long time ago. 

 Sigurd would have kicked his crutch out from under him while Ubbe would have forced him to sit down, hovering beside him for far too long, afraid he would slip or stumble, or break a bone. Between Ubbe and Sigurd, between plague and cholera, Ivar is honestly not sure which one is better. Or worse. After all, it's all a matter of perspective. 

 Fortunately, Hvitserk – his favourite brother, and it is no coincidence – never treats him differently; never belittles him; never mothers nor smothers him. With him, Ivar feels like he's normal.

 Gratefulness flooding his mind, a pang of guilt suddenly hits him. He knows that if he leaves, he will put his brother in a difficult position. Though his resolve remains unshaken, Ivar puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, and when he speaks again, it's in a softer voice. "Listen, brother, just tell them I cancelled because I wasn't feeling well, okay?"

 Technically speaking, it's not even a lie. Today has been what his beloved mother would have called a 'bad leg day'. The pain coursing through his lower limbs worse and the muscles stiffer than usual, his right leg barely moving due to its swollen joints, he had taken a double dose of painkillers earlier, regrettably with little to no effect.

 "Well, brother," Looking out of the window, Hvitserk grimaces, an uneasy grin on the corner of his lips, "I'm afraid it's too late." 

 As if on cue, the door busts open and a girly chuckle can be heard. Ivar clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the handle of his crutch. As you and Thora take off your coats and shoes in the doorway, Hvitserk mutters, his mouth on his brother's ear, "Behave Ivar, please. For my sake." 

 Ivar snorts, exhaling deeply. "I'll try." He closes his eyes and, shaking his head, he mumbles, fighting a lump in his throat. "It's… It's not that easy. Fuck Hvitserk, you don't even know…I wish I wasn’t so angry all the time. I… I might have been happy." His voice, barely a whisper at this point, cracks at the end, and he hates himself for that.  

 Astounded, Hvitserk isn't even sure he heard right. There's no time left to ask Ivar to repeat himself though, so he somewhat haphazardly decides to comfort him, nevertheless. "You'll get there, brother." He eventually breathes, still stunned by his brother's unexpected admission.

  "We're coming!!" Unaware of the tension in the room, Thora shouts enthusiastically before crossing it in two long strides. All smiles, she joins the brothers, winking at her lover and squeezing his hand, and gives Ivar a peck on the cheek followed by a wholehearted hug. She then steps away, gesturing toward you as Hvitserk wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Ivar, this is Y/N."

 Reluctantly, Ivar looks in your direction and the moment he sets his eyes on you, his breath catches in his throat and he knows he's screwed. Already smitten. Gods, you're glowing and insanely beautiful. He barely hears Thora's next words. "And Y/N, this is Ivar, Hvitserk's little brother."

 A beaming smile on your face, you wave at him before taking two shy steps forward. "Hello, Ivar." Even your voice is wonderful, sweet, and silky, and he can't help but smile back at you, annoyed with himself for being so weak. 

 Even if he can see the sparkle in your eyes as you look at him, even if your smile is devastating, he knows better. 

 It won't last. It can't.

 For now, standing tall in his brother's living room, he's aware you surely find him attractive. With no false modesty, Ivar knows about his good looks, his huge blue eyes his greatest asset. Of course, you must have noticed the crutch, but the crutch per se is barely a turn-off. You can't see his titanium leg braces, which he stubbornly wears under his pants, even if they often bruise the thin and delicate skin of his calves. You can't see his crippling pain, his struggles. You can't see his distorted bones and his hideous legs. You can't see how disabled, how crippled he really is. But he knows that as soon as he takes a step, you'll get a small glimpse, and then the sparkle will leave your eyes, replaced at best by polite indifference, at worst by pity and disgust. 

 Yet, there's nowhere to hide from the inevitable. So, he decisively closes the gap between you and him, leaning heavily on his crutch, dragging his useless right leg behind him, and eventually standing right in front of you, he extends his hand. "Nice to meet you." His gaze never leaves your face, Ivar awaiting for you to avert your eyes, but you surprisingly don't. And as you reach out and offer him a firm handshake, your smile never falters, the sparkle still dancing in your eyes. 

 *** One year later ***

 You stir and turn toward him, your hand searching and finding his chest, and then lay your head on his shoulder. Groggy with sleep, you just mumble his name, eyes still closed, before letting out a content sigh and Ivar can't help but smile; you're so adorable.  

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, he draws you closer, running his fingers along your back and pressing his lips to your head. Rewarded by kisses in the crook of his neck, his free hand settles on your hip, your skin warm and smooth under his fingertips. "Hi," he greets you and buries his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

 "Hi." You eventually mumble with a raspy voice, now peppering light kisses all over his broad torso. "What were you doing, my love?" Your eyes flutter open and, propping yourself up on your elbow, your other hand flat on his chest, you offer him a warm smile. There's so much love in your eyes, it takes his breath away. 

 "I was remembering." Ivar smiles fondly at you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth. "Do you know what day it is?" He asks, gently kissing your knuckles one after the other. 

 "How could I have forgotten?" You scoot even closer, your breast against his chest, your mouth barely an inch from his. "Today is the anniversary of the day we met, my love. That's what you were thinking about?"

 Ivar nods before laying you down on the bed tenderly. He then sits up, running his hands through his hair. "I remember as though it were yesterday, you know? I still can't believe you didn't run away." Sitting behind him, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, trapping him in your embrace, in your love. "You stayed…", his voice trembles as he gestures to his legs, hidden under the sheets, "… you stayed in spite of… of them…" He swallows loudly and your heart aches.

 Resting your head on his left shoulder, you shake your head. "No, my love, I didn’t stay in spite of your legs, but because of them." 

 Ivar is looking downward but as soon as the words escape your lips, he snaps his head to the side, a frown flitting across his face, and gives you a confused and slightly upset look. "What do you… What do you mean?" He stammers, suddenly tense.

 Shifting in the bed, you carefully straddle him, tilting his chin with a curled finger and forcing him to meet your gaze. "Don't get me wrong, Ivar. I'm not especially attracted to your legs. It's not some kind of weird fetish. I stayed because of what is in here." You put your finger on his forehead, and then over his heart. "And here. But your legs made you who you are. And you're different. A good kind of different. You don't think like other men. That's what I love the most about you. You're unpredictable; you always surprise me. You wouldn't have been who you are without your legs." A gentle hand sliding under the sheets, your fingers graze his scarred skin. "With two working legs, who knows what you would have been. You probably would have been a presumptuous womanizer like Bjorn. Or you might have been as boring as Ubbe; as careless as Hvitserk; as annoying as Sigurd. You are who you are, infuriating, smart, and stubborn, and, I must say, breathtakingly handsome, and I love you exactly the way you are." 

 Ivar just looks at you for a long time, a small smile playing on his lips. Raising his right hand, he cups your face. "Never stop telling me you love me, Y/N. Please..." You never saw him so willingly vulnerable before, and it breaks your heart – you never want him to doubt himself – as much as it fills you with joy – he trusts you enough to share his insecurities with you. 

 You answer him without missing a beat. "I won't. I love you more than my own life. I love you bigger than the sky and its stars, I love you to the moon and back. I love you like I never thought I could. Loving you is a blessing, a precious gift, the meaning of my life. I love you and only you, Ivar Lothbrok."

 Blinking a few times, Ivar heaves a shuddering breath. Tears come to his bright blue eyes and the expression on his face is unreadable; fragile and strong all at once. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. Staring into space, he seems lost.

 Stroking his cheek, you bring him back to the here and now, back to you, kissing his earlobe, his jaw, his neck, before returning briefly to his mouth. "What is it, Ivar?"

 Your lover shrugs, "Nothing, really," and pulls you closer, his hands on your back, his breath on your face, his manly scent enticing you. "Or more accurately…", he whispers in your ear, "… Nothing, yet everything." 

 Not understanding what he's getting at, you keep quiet, just staring at him, confusion obvious in your eyes. He then offers you a mind-blowing smile, and your heart nearly jumps out through your mouth at his next words. 

 "I may be happy. Actually, I think I am."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​ @pieces-by-me​

[red-talisman]

An unbetaed snippet of post-CQL canon Yunmeng reconciliation, which is mostly extremely morbid and blunt conversation after beating each other hard enough that they’re too tired for their usual conflicting modes of emotional avoidance.

EDIT: now edited and posted on AO3. :D

CW for past suicidal ideation. Part of my “let WWX express some of his cynical humor and creepiness more often” and “let WWX find out about JC’s own sacrifice goddamnit” agendas.

___________________

Jiang Cheng stares blankly into the trees, their trunks slowly disappearing in the deepening darkness of twilight. Wei Wuxian’s back is warm against his and heaving for breath just as heavily. He thinks his ankle might be broken, but Wei Wuxian is probably worse off.

“You’re an asshole,” Wei Wuxian says thickly.

“Hypocrite,” Jiang Cheng mutters without heat, and Wei Wuxian manages a snort between his gasps.

“Yeah.” After a moment, he adds, with an echo of the old Yiling Laozu in his voice, “You know that if you ever do something like that again, I’ll probably find a way to do something worse than I did before.”

“If I do what, save your life by pulling the same fucking sacrificial shit that you do?”

“I swear to every god out there that I will bring you back as a fierce corpse and kill you myself,” Wei Wuxian says in a pleasant, albeit still somewhat breathless, tone. “I will dismember your carcass and make Jin Guangyao look like a fucking amateur.”

“Good thing Mo Xuanyu’s core isn’t worth shit, then,” Jiang Cheng replies. All of his attention is focused on the feeling of his brother’s bones and muscles moving against his own spine.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause. Somewhere distant Jiang Cheng hears the panicked yells of what’s probably the juniors they left behind a few li back. Then Wei Wuxian sighs. “We’re really fucked up.”

Jiang Cheng takes his time considering and discarding several possible responses. His ankle hurts like a bitch; Mo Xuanyu’s core may not be worth shit, but damn if his asshole genius brother hasn’t figured out how to make the most of it anyway. He finally settles on a tired, “Yeah.”

The silence stretches on long enough that Wei Wuxian goes on, more quietly, “You and Shijie are the only reason I didn’t die in the Burial Mounds. The Wens grabbed me before I knew whether or not you’d even survived the core transfer.”

Jiang Cheng tilts his head just enough to glance briefly over his shoulder. “How did you survive the Burial Mounds?”

“Nope, no, I’m not putting that on you. Not even Lan Zhan knows. I can’t...I can’t do that.”

“Fine. Then tell me, is any of it going to come back and bite us in the ass at the worst possible moment?” he asks dryly.

Wei Wuxian snorts, humorless. “Nah. It’s all mine.”

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?”

When Wei Wuxian hesitates for a few telling seconds, Jiang Cheng mutters, “You fucking asshole.”

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian sighs again.

“You left me.”

“You didn’t need me.”

“Who the fuck said that?”

The knobs of Wei Wuxian’s spine are starting to press painfully into Jiang Cheng’s. Wei Wuxian snorts. “I was practically a fierce corpse myself when I dragged myself out of the Burial Mounds. Your position as sect leader was too precarious,” he says bluntly. “You were seventeen years old with no real family, a sister who was getting married off anyway, and an adopted brother who’d been controversial years before the war even happened and who was clearly half-mad and getting worse. And I...my mind never really left the Mounds, honestly.” He coughs, makes a wet sound, and spits. “If I stayed much longer I was going to end up dragging you back into Hell with me. I was a risk you couldn’t afford and I wasn’t going to destroy Yunmeng Jiang a second time.”

"Don’t pull that bullshit, Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng is so, so tired. “Mother was wrong. You know Wen Chao was looking for any excuse. You’re as responsible for that as our shidi was for using a round kite.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t respond. Jiang Cheng makes a mental note to beat that nonsense out of him in the future, when he can lift his arms again and his ankle isn’t most likely broken.

But Jiang Cheng remembers what it was like to try turning weapons, human and sword alike, into tools of peace. There are still whole weeks of the Sunshot Campaign that are just smears of sense-memory: the cacophony of screams and curses; the reek of mass funeral pyres and the soft ash drifting through the air like black, silent snow; the startling warmth of being suddenly drenched in blood after Sandu sliced open another living human. Half the time he’d come back to himself laughing hysterically, unable to see anything through the tears on his face, and as the war dragged on, the tears eventually dried up. It had taken months afterwards to settle into the mindset of rebuilding for Lotus Pier. (If he’s honest with himself, he never really did settle there. There's always a part of him still dragging itself through mud made by blood spilled on battlefields and churned up by soldiers' boots.)

“Jin Ling’s the only reason I never actually killed myself after you died,” Jiang Cheng says. “...Don’t you ever tell him that.”

“Wait, what?” Wei Wuxian snaps.

“You saying I would’ve died without a core - it was never about not having a core, you idiot, not really.” Not to say that hadn’t hurt, and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t know how he would’ve managed life as a commoner. But there were still worse things to lose than a core, which had also just lost and was about to lose yet again. “I had a few ideas on how to do it, depending on where I was and what was available when I decided I might as well get it over with.” He huffs a brief laugh and idly rubs his thumb over Sandu’s hilt. “I thought poison might be a good option, if a little heavy-handed on the metaphor.”

“I’d be laughing,” Wei Wuxian says flatly, “if you weren’t talking about killing my little brother.”

“Am I?”

“You never stopped.”

The silhouettes of the trees start to blur in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “You left. You left, and everyone died, and somehow I was responsible for keeping our sister’s baby alive while the wolves tried to eat what remained of our sect from every direction. You left.”

“I never wanted to.”

“But you did.”

“Because I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe.”

“Because you chose strangers over family.”

“Because I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe,” Wei Wuxian hisses. Apparently they’re not so exhausted that they can’t get pissed after all. “I was hardly human anymore, Jiang Cheng. If I was going to die, then at least I’d die actually managing to save innocent people this time around and you would be safe from me.”

“I never wanted you to do that for me!”

“And I never wanted you to do that for me!”

The tension that had them both struggling to sit up straight suddenly breaks, and their backs collide again. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth against the urge to groan over the pain that ricochets through his chest and down his limbs. He hears a muffled yelp from behind him.

“You’re a damned fucking asshole and you’re my fucking brother and I hate you and don’t you ever assume you know what I need again, do you understand me,” snarls Jiang Cheng.

“You’re the damned fucking asshole and if you ever do that again then I will brand a reminder into your flesh right over the scar from the discipline whip,” Wei Wuxian snaps back, because he's never held back from fighting dirty if he thought it necessary.

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

They both stare into the dark forest, in opposite directions. It sounds like the juniors have finally picked up their tracks. Useless, the whole lot - Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hadn't exactly been subtle in stepping aside for a private conversation that inevitably escalated, how could it take the kids this long?

"Those dumbasses had better not forget that we're on a night-hunt," he says.

"Like we did?" Wei Wuxian replies.

"You started it."

"Did not."

"No, I'm not doing this with you."

"Hey, you started this one."

"Shut the fuck up."

They fall silent again. A cold breeze picks up and Jiang Cheng feels Wei Wuxian shiver, pressing back just a little more firmly against Jiang Cheng for warmth, and he...leans back too. Just a little.

"I'm still fucking pissed at you," says Wei Wuxian.

"And I've got years' worth to pay you back for," says Jiang Cheng.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Sect Leader Jiang!" they hear. "Senior Wei!"

"If you don't show up for the mid-autumn festival," Jiang Cheng suddenly says, "I'll come drag you out of the Cloud Recesses by the heels."

"But the dogs - "

"Don't be an idiot. Jin Ling's dog is the only one allowed in Lotus Pier, you know that."

Well, come to think of it, Wei Wuxian probably doesn't know that, but whatever, now he does. Wei Wuxian is terrifyingly silent, but before Jiang Cheng can say something that will inevitably bring them back to throwing fists, he hears a quiet, "Yeah, okay."

"Do you think they killed each other?" they hear Lan Jingyi asking loudly. "I mean, Sandu Shengshou versus the Yiling Patriarch - who would win?"

"Don't be an idiot," retorts Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian's body briefly shakes with a laugh. "My uncle, obviously."

"They're both your uncle, idiot!"

Jiang Cheng just sighs and lets his head fall back against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.