#i think he deserves to be loved and taken care of and i will give him a y/n to achieve that

[sageshouldknowbetter]

Some may be apprehensive that Severance won’t portray Mark’s interaction with Helena in the tent as the sexual assault it was. But not only will they — they already are.

Mark’s behavior toward Helly has completely changed. He doesn’t sit next to her at Irving’s funeral. He shuts down attempts at conversation with offhand, vague snarky comments and a defiantly blank facial expression. When Helly knocks on the door to the bathroom, his eyes dart around like an animal cornered. Where he once would have slowed down for her in the hallway so they could talk, he walks much faster ahead. He’s trying as hard as possible to avoid her. To ignore her. To run away.

Now contrast this with his treatment of “Helly” when she first walked out of the elevator in season two. He waited for her to arrive! He was so relieved she’d come back! And when they were walking down that hallway and he was explaining the situation with Ms. Casey, he stopped mid-stride, turned to her with a smile on his face, and said “Look, Helly—“

He never got to finish that sentence. But some say he was going to confess that though his outie had a wife, his affections lay with her. And I think they’re right.

So why is he acting so differently now? The answer is obvious: “Because they are smarter than us, okay? They know everything.”

After the assault, Mark likely feels like a complete idiot. He spent so much of season one deconstructing his beliefs and breaking free from Lumon’s propaganda. And the minute he believes he’s immune to their lies and no longer a corporate slave, he is taken advantage of and hoodwinked by the very figurehead of said company, masking as someone he loves.

A symbol of Lumon convinced him he was safe. Tricked him. Invaded him in the most intimate way possible, with him completely oblivious, “like an idiot.” Right when he thought everything might be okay.

So maybe Lumon’s right. Maybe there’s no point in fighting. Because if he was stupid enough to not realize his own friend was being possessed by her billionaire doppelgänger, then maybe Lumon is correct about innies being nothing more than pawns. Maybe they are people, and he really is… not. (That’s how Helena treated him, anyway.)

And if that’s the case, of course he wants to give up looking for Ms. Casey and lose himself in work! For a moment he thought he was a human being, deserving of autonomy over his own body and capable of something more than sitting behind a desk — but his assault sends that all crashing down. He is an extension of his outie, made for work and nothing more. Going beyond that gets dangerous. That’s what got Irving killed… and him in Helena’s tent. And Helly? He cannot trust Helly. As far as he knows, his only confirmed moment with Helly since the OTC was when he was holding her in his arms, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Why should it be Helly coming back to the severed floor? If Helena could trick him before, who says she can’t learn from her past mistakes and trick him again over and over? Mark refuses to be humiliated and hurt after last time, so he avoids her (and Dylan!) and puts up a barrier of cool, snarky indifference — just like how he deals with grief.

But we know that indifference is a mask. When Milchick walked out of the elevator after revealing he knew about him and Helena Eagan, Mark had no one to pretend for — and he went completely stiff, blankly wide-eyed in an expression extremely reminiscent of his usual innie self. Whatever the reasons for this, one thing’s for sure: Mark does deeply care about what happened in the tent. And at least for now, he will lose himself in Cold Harbor to cope with it.

Lumon certainly got their productive worker back. But good Lord… at what cost?

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Zae!!!!! (you know me, this is going to be long lmaooo)

That was so incredibly hot I'm not even kidding. I have so many things to say and it still won't do justice to how incredible reading Evanescence was.

First of all, I want to say just how funny that cut was between the woman from Doyle's Tavern insulting him and asking for money in exchange for information to Arthur walking out with said info, all his money and a ban from the Tavern?? Idk it just made me laugh out loud for real 😂. Alright, now more serioulsy—

"Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor."

Looove that section and the paragraph after. Fellow figurative lovers, we are spoiled. And Jesus am I completely insane for finding the whole thing even hotter with a bestial, animalistic Arthur like this? Perfect comparison.

And the whole ring part! Their entire relationship is SO well written and so well balanced. You had shared your doubts with me about how to write an LH, but my GOD, this was absolutely perfect. GIVE YOURSELF MORE CREDIT I'M BEGGING YOU!!

His intrinsic violence, his possessiveness that dominates him in spite of himself is so in character, and YET, we love it, we love him, just as always.

I so love all the nuances you described in both him and the Reader. She's aware of the problems in their relationship and wants to fight him; she refuses to make things easy for him and give him what he wants. She loves him and hates him so much at the same time... And Arthur, all his impulsiveness, his brutality make us think he's looking for control at all costs; in the end, it's just the only way he can react to the fact that it's him who's completely in love with her and under her thumb. Brilliant. The dialogue in this part is really perfect, with Arthur repeating the “Yours” more and more surely. *sighs*

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!” But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw. “No, dammit, cause you own me.”

And the wild kiss right after! The whole prey and predator game, so so good. You know I'm suuuuch a sucker for these kinds of comparisons. And the way they're fighting each other but getting closer at the same time... So, so erotic.

And EXCUSEEEE ME, Reader insulting him as they succomb to it? I am so into this. God it made my body feel all sorts of ways 🥵🔥

He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display. “Say you won’t go,” he choked out.  Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Oh. My. Lord. I could DIE from this simple vision. This is just incredibly hot and so good to read; I wasn't expecting him to actually be the dominated one here. (Big boys just want to be taken care of, don't they?🤭😉)

And Jesus, how do you achieve that Zae? Because the part after was even better!!! Honestly, I was already choking here, and then that:

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.”  “I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back.  “You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.   “I–dammit–I–kn–know.” The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch.  “I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

I AM DEAD!!!! I loved this part so much I think I read it four times already!!! I mean come on guys, the dialogue, every word sounds so fcking good, perfectly transcribing his voice, making him spit out he's indeed too bad for her, and her stroking him like this, him babbling that he'll change? I'm getting all excited again just talking about it 🫠 This is definitely one of my favorite fic moments, ever.

And of course, as always, the grandiose climax, with once again the predator comparison but with HER as a lioness???? ZAE MARRY ME. This was absolute perfection. And even better, the second echo with him finishing inside, while she asserts "Yours". I just can't with that level of perfection, of masterfulness. This is mind-blowing, Zae. You really made me lose my mind with this one.

The last words also struck me; they are so relevantly bitter-sweet. An ideal ending for this nuanced relationship. You're forever inspiring me.

To conclude, one of my new favorites of yours (yes I knoooow every new one is becoming one of my favorites of yours, but hell I'm just a girl and you're still so incredibly talented!). I'm left in awe of your talent, every time, and here especially with such a subtle LH Arthur. Please, be proud, because you really did him justice. Bravo, bravo, bravo.

Love u! -Your loyal Piney 💞

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[luna-eclipse2000]

Your first Valentine’s Day with AOT boys + Hanji

Ft. Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, Connie, Levi, Hanji

Notes: Connie’s is suggestive so MDNI, no pronouns used for reader

Eren

- He’s never been a fan of Valentine’s Day

- He just never saw the point

- But that’s not to say he hated the idea of buying a future partner some flowers and chocolates

- In fact, he would find himself day dreaming about seeing his partner smiling as they gaze upon the gifts he bought them

- And since he and Jean both got into relationships before Valentine’s Day, he knew he had to go above in beyond

- Not just because you deserve it, but because he wanted to stick it to that horse-faced bastard

You’re out with your friends for brunch, a Valentines tradition you’ve had for years because none of you had boyfriends before. All of you are taken now but that doesn’t stop you three from meeting up. Just as your food comes, your phone rings with Eren’s tone. “Sorry, give me a second.” You apologize before pulling out your phone to read the text.

Bird boy: Come to my place when you’re done with your friends. I got something to show you ;)

You know your friends will tease and press you to get more information just to see you get flustered, so you put your phone away and pretend it was nothing. But of course you’re now eager to get over to Eren’s place to see what he has in store.

Most people who send winking emoji’s mean it only to imply something sexual, but he does it to hint at something exciting. A surprise. Not to say he doesn’t mean it in the traditional sense, too. You’re also expecting him to do something big because of his rivalry with Jean.

However you’re not prepared for what you see when you walk into his apartment. There’s petals scattering the floor, unlit candles hang from the ceiling, pink and red ribbon hang along the top of the walls, an overly large teddy bear sits against the wall where the balcony is, and Eren stands in the centre of it all wearing a red velvet suit with black lining. “Eren Jaeger, what did you do?” You question with a smile, hands placed on your hips.

“Giving you the best damn Valentine’s Day you’ve ever had.” He answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He then walks up to you with a heart shaped box in his hand. “Chocolate?”

“I’ll never say no to Lindor.” You answer and take out one of the wrapped chocolates. “Do you like it?” Eren asks. “You certainly exceeded every expectation.” You tell him. “I was going to light the candles but Armin told me the flames would burn the fishing wire and start a fire.” Eren admits. “And while that is the perfect way to describe my love for you, I don’t think the building manager would get it. Or care.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment before looking at him again. “You can be so cheesy, you know that?”

“As long as you’re happy, I don’t care how cheesy I get.” He says before pressing his lips to yours. “Now go pose with the bear. I need to brag to Jean.”

Armin

- This boy does his homework when it comes to holidays

- He finds out what you like and what you don’t so everything will be perfect

- He writes a step-by-step plan for before, during, and after your first Valentine’s with him

- But when you meet him at the restaurant

- He forgets the entire plan

- Not a shred of it remains in his head

- And he becomes the shy, flustered, awkward Armin we all know and adore

You fiddle with your clothes as you walk up to the restaurant Armin suggested for Valentine’s. He had to take his grandfather to an appointment so he profusely apologized for not being able to pick you up himself, but promised thar he’d make up for it. This restaurant is usually pretty booked up in advance, especially for holidays, however he said he knew the owner so he and his friends get tables pretty much whenever they want.

“Hi there.” The hostess greets as you walk up to the stand. “Name for the reservation?”

“Uh, it should be under Armin Arlert.” You tell her. “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“No, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been seated at your table.” She says after tapping on the tablet in front of her. “I can take you back now if you’d like, or you can wait for him up here.”

“I’ll wait for him, thank you.” You say and then stand off to the side. You look around at the restaurant since this is your first time stepping foot inside. It’s certainly very fancy and the food must cost a fortune. “They probably offer rich shit like calamari and the Grey Stuff from Beauty and the Beast.” You think to yourself.

The tables all have ivory tablecloths with gold details around the edges. You can even see a wine room closer to where the kitchen is. Each table has a rose in a vase in the centre of the table. Your gaze then falls onto all the couples in the dining room. Everyone is dressed to the nines, wearing obviously designer clothing and expensive jewelry. This causes you to feel a bit insecure and wonder if you should’ve dressed up a bit more.

Your clothing isn’t designer, but it still cost a pretty penny. You’re sure that if you bought your clothes with any of these people’s cards, they wouldn’t even notice the charge.

The bell rings behind you, signalling that someone has come in. You turn around and see Armin walk in carrying a bouquet of red, pink and white roses, and a red gift bag clutched in his right hand. “Armin.” You address your new boyfriend.

He turns to face you with a confident smile on his face but then he goes slightly slack jawed, a deep red blush spreading across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. “I- Um- You- Uh, wow.” He clears his throat and looks away.

“Hey, are you ok?” You ask, reaching out and touching his cheek. “Yeah, you just… You look stunning.” He says, still not looking at you.

“Aw, thank you.” You say sweetly. “I was starting to think I stood out like a sore thumb.”

His head whips forward with what seems to be a mixture of confusion and fear in his eyes. “No! Not at all! You’re easily the best-looking here.” He then remembers the gifts in his hands. “Oh! These are for you.”

You chuckle at his awkwardness and take the items from him. “You’re so cute. You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I make things weird?” He asks nervously. “No, absolutely not.” You assure him. A look of relief washes over his still-red features. “I’m just saying it’s sweet that you wanted to spend your money on me.”

“Of course. It’s my job to spoil you.” He says, tucking his hands into his pockets. You’re extremely grateful that he even got you flowers let alone something that won’t die in a few weeks, but you start feeling guilty about not getting him anything. You didn’t think you were at the gift-giving stage yet.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get anything for you.” You apologize. “I don’t need anything, sweetie.” Armin tells you. “All I want is for you to have fun.”

You smile at him, feeling better but you’re still not 100% satisfied. So you take a step forward and press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Does that suffice?”

He doesn’t answer because he’s focusing all his energy on not passing out right then and there. When he finally does speak, it’s more of an incoherent babble than a proper sentence. You let out another laugh at his shyness.

“Oh, I see your date is here.” The hostess says as she walks back to her stand. “If you two want to follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

You gently put the flowers into the bag and take his hand in yours as you follow her to the back of the restaurant. Armin is about 99% sure he just died and went to heaven.

Jean

- We all know that Jean is a hopeless romantic

- So you can bet that he’s been planning Valentine’s Day for a while

- Even before he got into a relationship, he would dream about what he’d do, where he’d take his partner, and what gifts he’d buy

- 100% gets his mother flowers and something else she likes

- Remember that trend about getting a bouquet of 100 roses?

- Yeah, he sees that as a challenge

- So you best believe this man has bought you a bouquet of 200 roses (or your favourite flower)

- You can barely grip the base it’s so big

- (Get your minds out of the gutter, ya nasty)

It’s been a long day at work and you just can’t wait to get home and see Jean. You just got promoted so it’s been pretty hectic trying to get used to the new change, and it doesn’t help that your new boss hasn’t warmed up to you yet.

You trudge up the pathway to your house and quickly open up the door. “Jean! I’m home!” You call out, tiredness dripping from your voice. You didn’t realize when you walked up to your house that all the lights were out. You were far too busy thanking the universe that the day was done. But now as you kick off your shoes, you realize that you can barely see anything. “Jean?”

You look towards the living room and see some candles sitting on the adjacent dining room table. You arch your brow in curiosity as you walk towards the candles. “Jean?” You call out again. The table has a red runner going down the middle with the fine china plates from your wedding sitting at each end.

You two only bring those plates out for special occasions because they’ve been passed down as wedding gifts in his family since his Great Grandmother’s wedding. Soft music starts to play, the kind that’s in those romantic movies when the male leads sees the female lead in a pretty dress for the first time. You see Jean walk out from the kitchen holding the largest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen. He literally needs two hands to hold it.

“Hello, my love.” He says, needing to peer around the flowers to see you properly. It also doesn’t help that the bouquet is wrapped in red paper with white lace as an accent.

You laugh at the comically large flowers. “Jean, what on earth is going on?”

“Oh, I saw a trend of people getting 100 roses for Valentine’s Day and knew that you deserved better than that.” Jean answers and then hands you the bouquet. “I can’t even seen you!” You say through your laughter. “But it’s very sweet of you. Thank you, Jean.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jean says. You take a moment to smell the flowers before lying them down in the centre of the table. “Now sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“What is all this?” You ask, gesturing to the table. “Did you do something and need to apologize before I find out?”

“What? Of course not! Well, not this time at least.” He says. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks. You needed something to make you smile and I figured that Valentine’s was the perfect time. Besides, this is our first Valentine’s Day as a married couple, of course I had to go all out.”

Your smile drops. “Ah, shit. Is that today?” He nods his head. “Ok, give me one second!” You turn and run towards the stairs.

“Hey, where’re you going?” He calls after you. “I’ll be right back! Give me thirty seconds!” You say while running up the stairs as fast as you can without tripping. You rush into the guest bedroom and open up the second drawer of the bedside table. You then move some old cards out of the way and grab the leather box you hid in here last month.

“That was longer than thirty seconds.” Jean jokes as you walk back into the dining room. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Time-Keeper.” You respond before holding out the box. “Here. I didn’t totally forget.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, love.” Jean says softly as he takes the box from you. “You give me gifts every time you see something you think I’d like. Of course I had to get you something.” You say.

He opens up the box and gasps softly as he sees an antique watch. You two passed by a little shop while walking to your friend’s house and he couldn’t help but gawk at it. So you went back the next day and immediately bought it for him, not even looking at the price tag. He looks up at you with adoration in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” You respond. He places the watch down on the table before pulling you into him, placing a kiss on your lips. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer as the kiss deepens. He moves his hands to your waist and squeezes softly, showing you how much he’s enjoying this moment.

But the next second, the timer goes off on the oven, forcing you two to separate. “Guess we’ll have to finish that later.” Jean says with a smirk on his face.

Marco

- We all know this guy is a sweetheart

- He doesn’t plan anything extravagant, but it’s still amazing

- Adorable would probably be the best word to describe what he does

- He doesn’t do anything cheesy so don’t expect a stuffed animal holding a heart that says “I love you bear-y much”

- Unless you specifically say you want one

- But if you like plushies, you’re definitely getting one

- His gifts are simple: A small bouquet of flowers, maybe some chocolates or candy if you like them, and something else if he feels you’ll really like it

You sit in your dorm room, anxiously waiting for Marco to pop by after work for a movie night. You bought one of those projectors that connects to your computer so you don’t have to crowd around the small screen. Not that you’re not planning on squishing as close to this angel of a human as much as you physically can.

You already have the snacks set up: some cookies, gummy worms, those heart shaped candies and a bucket of popcorn with pink, brown and red chocolates. The second you hear his signature knock, you’re bolting to the door and throwing it open.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” He greets you as he holds a single rose in front of him. “Aw, thank you.” You say as you take the flower. “Come on in, everything’s set up. We just need to pick a movie.”

You lead him inside your room and take a seat on your bed. You made sure that your roommate wouldn’t be home for a while so you’re using their bunk as the screen for your movie. You’ve trapped one end of a white sheet underneath their bed so you have a flat surface to project the film onto.

“I also have this for you.” Marco says as he holds out a gift bag. It’s a simple Valentine’s-themed bag with a bunch of red and pink hearts on it. “You’re too sweet.” You coo as you take the bag from him. You remove the tissue paper and light up as you see a little dinosaur plush sitting on top of a brown book. You take that out first, placing it on your lap, before grabbing the book.

“What’s this?” You ask curiously, rubbing your hand over the faux-leather surface. “Open it!” He urges. You can see the excitement in his face so you open the book up and gasp as you see what’s inside.

It’s a photo album of moments you two have shared before you were together, and moments from dates. As you flip a few pages, you see candid shots of yourself that you don’t remember him taking. “When did you take these?”

“Whenever I had a chance.” He answers honestly. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so great that I needed to take a picture of you.”

“Of course I don’t mind. This is the sweetest gift anyone has ever got me.” You say. He smiles wide and leans down to capture your lips with his. “Now what movie do you want to watch?” He asks.

“Titanic.” You answer simply. “Ah, a classic. Excellent choice.” He says as he sits beside you.

Connie

- The only vibes during this day are comedic

- If you’re expecting this man to be super sappy and give you heart eyes, you’re dead wrong

- He gives you valentines

- Like the kind with cheesy puns that kids give their friends in elementary school

- But also expect his own homemade valentines

- And those make you just about piss yourself with laughter

You get home from work and prepare to get ready for your date with Connie tonight. But before you can take off your shoes, you see a small piece of paper with a picture of Spongebob on it and a heart-shaped lollipop taped to it. You bend down and grab the paper and read what it says.

Be my Valentine!

You laugh, wondering why it was on the ground. Then you see another a few inches away. This one has a piece of bread on it with another lollipop taped to the side. It says: Be the peanut butter to my jelly.

You laugh again and then realize that there’s a trail of little Valentines leading down the hall to the bedroom. Of course you follow without question. One says: You make my tail wag, while another says: You make my heart go doki-doki. Then you pick up one that nearly makes you fall to your knees from laughing so hard.

It’s a photo of Connie from when he ate a ghost pepper. It was a dare from Jean that he wouldn’t eat one whole. So he immediately ate the pepper and instantly regretted it. He’s chugging milk, it dribbles down his chin, and his eyes are red. Tears stream down his cheeks and under his nose is wet from it running. Printed beside the photo in Comic Sans are the words: You’re hotter than the pepper was (Trust me. It was spicy)

You find quite a few more Connie-made cards until you reach your bedroom door. It’s closed over until there’s just a crack so you push it open and just about piss your pants laughing at what you see.

On your bed is Connie, surrounded by rose petals and those stupid candy hearts with corny sayings. But that’s obviously not enough to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

He clutches a rose in his mouth like a dancer and wears a pair of candy underwear. Yes, the kind thats a bra and pantie set. He’s lying on his side, propped up by his elbow and his other arm resting on his side. “Hola, mi amore.” He greets, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You laugh even harder, needing to lean on the doorway to keep yourself up. He can’t even roll his Rs because of the flower in his mouth.

“When I gave you a key, I wasn’t expecting this.” You say once you catch your breath. “But goddamn. I haven’t laughed this much in years.”

“Glad to be of service.” Connie says as he removes the rose from his mouth. “Now paint me like one of your french girls.”

And you start laughing again.

Levi

- Hates Valentine’s Day

- He finds the red, pink and white decorations an eyesore

- He just doesn’t get the point of having a holiday dedicated to showing someone you love them

- If you love them, show them every day. Why do you need a holiday to do that?

- Knows that it’s just a marketing ploy made by companies to sell more products

- But when you two pass by a store with a Valentine’s display, he sees your eyes light up and knows he has to do something

You know that Levi’s waiting for you in your apartment, you told him to let himself in using the spare key. “Levi! I’m home!” You call out as you kick your shoes off. You can see his sitting neatly beside the front door, but you don’t bother to put yours beside his. “In here.” His voice answers from the kitchen.

You walk in and see some of your favourite flowers sitting in a vase with a red ribbon wrapped around the glass. You then see Levi putting some cookies on a plate. “Levi, what are you doing?” You ask, walking closer to him. “You hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t buy any of that cheap shit from the store.” Levi agrees before turning to face you with the plate of cookies. You’re even more surprised to see that they’re sugar cookies. They don’t look perfect, but that doesn’t matter. “You better like these damn cookies. Had to watch five videos before someone explained how to cream butter in ways I understood. Seriously, would a fucking baker need to look these things up? People need to simplify shit more often.”

You can tell he’s rambling because he’s a bit flustered, although neither of you will say it. The tips of his ears are scarlet so that’s also a dead giveaway. “You didn’t have to do this.” You say, the gratitude evident in your tone. “Of course I did.” He argues, crossing his arms across his chest. “You seem to love this day and you do so much for me. It was obvious I had to do something.”

“You’ll never admit it, but you’re sweet.” You say before placing a kiss to his cheek. He grumbles, but you know it’s not because he’s pissed. He just can’t express positive emotions well. “Just know we’re not going out to a restaurant for dinner.” He tells you. “Those places hike up their prices because they know desperate couples will try anything to save their failing relationship.”

“You’re such a romantic, you know?” You say sarcastically. “So I’ve been told.” He responds. “Now go sit down. I made your favourite.”

Hanji

- We all know that modern Hanji is a science teacher

- So when your first Valentine’s together falls on a school day, you’re fairly disappointed knowing they do a lot of hands-on work that takes forever to clean up properly

- They feel horrible and send you a bunch of flowers to your workplace to make up for it

- But of course they have a plan for the actual day

- They’re nothing if not determined and stubborn

- If it’s a good Valentine’s you want, then a great Valentine’s you’ll get

You’re sitting at your desk, scowling at your coworkers as they talk about what their husbands and wives are doing for Valentine’s Day once they get off of work. You know Hanji doesn’t have a choice but to stay late after school finishes because they insist on not having their students sit at desks for an hour, reading over pointless worksheets none of them will remember the second the bell rings.

The janitor refuses to touch their classroom because it’s always a surprise as to what lesson Hanji Zoë jazzes up that day. You hear your phone bing from your bag so you pull it out to see a message from them.

Han Solo: Meet me in my classroom once you’re done work. I have something to show you!

You don’t know if you should be excited or terrified. But nevertheless, you’re intrigued and the day seems to go by slower from there. Once the clock strikes five, you pack up faster than you ever have before and practically run to your car. You know the code to get into the school since you’ve had to come drag them away from their desk more than once.

“Hanji?” You say as you enter the classroom. “Hello, my favourite person on the planet!” Hanji responds enthusiastically. “Come in, come in!”

“Why did you want me to meet you here?” You ask as you walk up to them. “And why is it so dark in here?”

“My last class helped me make something for you.” Hanji says, taking your hand in theirs after fumbling around for it. “Look at the desks.”

You face forward and then a second later, the desks light up. On each one sits a light board in the shape of a different letter to spell out “Happy Valentine’s”.

“Hanji… How did you do this?” You ask in amazement. “Well I figured they were learning how electricity works, so they could help make me this.” Hanji says. “They were more than happy once they got all their teasing out of the way.”

“But… Why’d you have to stay late if they weren’t using any chemicals?” You ask in confusion. “I love my students, babe. But they can be dumb as a stump sometimes.” Hanji explains. “Some of the currents were too strong while others were too weak. So I had to do some tinkering.”

“Thank you.” You say as you turn to them. Their face glows in the light from the desks so you can clearly see their adoring face. “You’re more than welcome.” They respond before kissing you.

[pellaaearien]

Here With Me (Chapter 7)

Dreamling | E | (no more) Edging, Caretaking, Porn With Plot | ~20k total

--

In the end, Hob needn’t have worried. The innkeeper accepts or else doesn’t care to examine their story about being a noble and his retainer accosted on the road, willing to accept the gold thread running through Burgess’ rich tunic in exchange for room, board, and some actual clothes for Dream.

“And medical supplies, if you please.” Dream speaks up, his voice shaky but resolute. “Some bandages, and salve if you have it.” Hob looks at Dream in surprise, but the innkeep just nods.

“I’ll send some up with my girl,” he says gruffly, and they hasten to their quarters before they can make more of a scene. The fewer people who can remember the strange travellers, the better.

“I’d rather you have warmer clothes,” is the first thing out of Hob’s mouth, once the door closes behind them. It’s not what he’d been intending to say, but salve especially won’t come cheap. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be on the road, and—”

“And I’d rather you not die,” Dream snaps, whirling on him fiercely, eyes flashing. Hob swallows the rest of his words. “I… I thought I had lost you.” He wraps his arms around himself, and Hob lurches to embrace him. 

“I wish never to know such a feeling again,” Dream says into his shoulder.

“Dream—”

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Hob opens it, feeling antsy about having strangers around Dream. The girl is shy, however, keeping her eyes downcast as she deposits her burden of hot water, bandages, and a jar of salve.

“Thank you,” Hob says, and she jumps at being addressed, nodding quickly.

“I’ll be up with the clothes soon, m’lords,” she says, and takes her leave before Hob can say anything more. Hob sighs, and turns to find that Dream has already uncorked the salve, and is sniffing at it.

“Does it meet with your approval?” he teases. Dream gives him a withering look, and Hob grins. Dream wasn’t the only one who’d feared that they would never see each other again, and the relief is hitting him in waves.

When he removes his bandages, Dream makes a small sound, leaning forward, hovering his fingers over the gash.

“I’ll heal,” Hob assures him. “I’d have taken worse, to know you’re safe.”

Dream’s hands clench in his lap. “You should not have had to.”

“Dream.” Hob cups Dream’s cheek tenderly. “I knew what I was getting into when I swore my life to your service. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“Don’t say that!” Dream says, grabbing his hand between both of his. “You’ve done so much, all for me, and I—”

“Shh.” Hob rests his forehead against Dream’s, ignoring the twinge of pain. “No regrets. I’d have done it even if you hadn’t asked.” It was all worth it, just to be near him.

Dream sighs. “I do not deserve you, Hob Gadling.”

Yes, you do! Hob wants to say. You more than anyone! But he thinks better of it. He won’t be another in the long line of people who have convinced Dream that he needs to earn his place.

“I get to decide that, love,” he says instead. “And it’s a decision I made on the very first day I met you.”

Dream looks away, dipping a cloth in the steaming water in lieu of answering. Hob hisses as he begins to tenderly wash his wound.

“You needn’t—” Hob begins, before breaking off at the fierce glare Dream fixes him with.

“I do.” His tone brooks no argument. Hob subsides. It feels wrong, so wrong, to have Dream taking care of him, but he can’t help but melt into it.

In the end, the spelled thread is merely pulled, not torn, and doesn't need to be resewn, certainly not by anyone with their amount of medical knowledge. Hob’s bandages are deftly rewound by Dream, who presses a kiss to the wound afterwards, as Hob holds back tears.

The innkeeper’s girl returns, bringing a bundle of clothes and a pot of stew. Hob doesn’t want to question where they got the clothes on such short notice, but the girl provides the information herself.

“They were my brother’s,” she says quietly, glancing at Dream out of the corner of her eye. “He died at the front.”

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, finding that he means it. Burgess’ people bear no blame for his wars. She nods, and departs, a certain understanding reached, though that doesn’t mean Hob is in a hurry to reveal their identity. He can only pray that they are far enough away not to implicate these people, should they be discovered. Dream puts the dead man’s clothes on wordlessly. They’re an almost perfect fit.

It’s later, after they’ve eaten and rested, that Hob wakes from a couple of hours’ sleep to find Dream no longer next to him in bed, but standing next to the tiny glazed window, hugging his arms to himself. Hob immediately sits up; Dream turns his head but doesn’t look at him.

“Hob.” Dream’s voice is velvet in the moonlit room. “I need you.” He swallows. The light is so bright Hob can trace the line of his throat. “I need you to make it so I’m not the oracle any more.”

The words hit Hob like a thunderclap, despite their quiet volume. Logically, he knows that this is an important step in their plan, and the sooner the better, so that Dream’s powers can no longer be used against them. In his illogical chest, his heart is pounding loud enough Dream can probably hear it from across the room.

He had long since resigned himself to the knowledge that he would never properly make love to Dream. The vague idea of falling from grace, of failing to stop in time, removing that barrier to being fully together, had been the stuff of his darkest fantasies. He’d known it would never happen. Dream had asked him to be his knight, and so that’s what Hob would be, until he died of it.

Now, Dream was asking something else. And rather than jumping at the chance, Hob needed a minute to catch up, to coax his deepest desires from the darkness and assure them it was safe to come out.

“I do not wish to injure you further,” Dream says, still not looking at him. “But I fear, if I do not do this now…” 

Then I never will, Hob finishes for him. He understands completely. “C’mere, dove,” he says, holding out his arms. Dream inches closer, until he melts into his arms with a sigh, bone-cracking tension leeching from his body. Hob holds him close. He can’t imagine what’s going through Dream’s head in this moment, as he contemplates giving up the thing that has defined his entire life.

“Dream,” Hob murmurs into his shock of hair. “Of course I will. If it’s what you really want.” There can be no going back, not after this. While that might be the point, that doesn’t make it any easier.

“I—” Dream’s voice is muffled by his shoulder. “I do not know if this is what you would have chosen. If I—”

“Listen to me.” Hob holds Dream’s face in his hands, pulls back until Dream meets his eyes. “You never forced anything on me. I chose to follow, chose with both eyes wide open, and do you know why?”

Dream shakes his head the tiniest amount, constrained by Hob’s grip, his eyes wide and so, so blue.

“Because how could I let anyone else touch you? Bring you pleasure? Of course I chose you. Who else could it be, but you?”

There’s a taste of salt against his lips, and it’s a long moment before he realises Dream is crying as he kisses him. Despite living as close as two people could be, they have never kissed like this before. Such romantic gestures were for normal people, with normal lives, serving only to remind them of what they couldn’t have.

No longer. The kiss is messy, wet, and perfect, neither of them quite sure what they’re doing but unwilling to stop. The play of Dream’s plush lips against his own is something Hob had never even thought to imagine, and he is instantly addicted.

“Oh, love,” he whispers against Dream’s skin, against the tiny noises and puffs of air Dream makes as he seeks his lips again. “I’m going to make you feel so good. I’m going to take such good care of you.”

“Please.” Dream nods frantically, and Hob’s blood is roaring in his veins at the thought of finally giving into that plea.

He lays Dream gently down on the bed, one of their straw pillows for his head and one for his hips. Dream deserves mountains of pillows, silks and goosedown, every possible luxury. But this is what they have, so Hob will make do. 

The tension in Dream’s frame is back; Hob bends to kiss him, tracing his lips with his tongue (inspired by the thought of a very similar act) until Dream opens for him, gasping and arching. Hob soothes him with soft touches, stroking his hair and sides.

“Hob,” Dream breathes, hips already canting. It’s much more familiar territory, but Hob still takes a moment, pressing his forehead to Dream’s.

“We have all the time in the world,” he says. He will make it true. “There’s no need to rush. I refuse to do anything that will hurt you.” He runs his hands down Dream’s arms, waiting for his nod of permission before pulling off his shirt, then caressing the skin that is revealed. The spread of both of his hands nearly encompasses the width of Dream’s torso.

“Look at me,” he says, and Dream does, the trust in his eyes flaying Hob’s chest open. “I promise you, I won’t stop.” Dream’s breath catches. “Not unless you ask me to. Not until it’s over.” No more ruined orgasms. Dream nods, wordless. Hob cups his cheek. “That means, if I do anything that doesn’t bring you utmost pleasure,” here his voice turns stern, “I need you to tell me.” He knows Dream would stubbornly and stoically bear anything it took, now that his mind is made up. He’s been doing it all his life. That doesn’t mean that this experience shouldn’t be as close to perfect as Hob can make it. “I could never live with myself if I hurt you.” His voice breaks, and Dream grips his arm. “Promise me.”

Dream nods, solemn. “I promise, Hob.” 

In spite of everything, Hob smiles. “Okay, then.” He kisses Dream again, because he can, and because he thinks if he stops kissing Dream for more than a few minutes he might die. Dream melts into it, hands lighting tentatively on Hob’s skin in turn, his shoulders and back, and this, too, is new, and strange, and wonderful. There’s no one to see, here. No one to wonder if their hands are hiding something. No need to keep Dream exposed. Dream touches him, and Hob feels like he could fly.

He thumbs at Dream’s nipples, pink and perfect, swallowing the keening noise he elicits. He replaces his thumbs with his mouth, licking and sucking, as Dream takes in a shuddering gasp above him. His lovely Dream, still so sensitive, even after all this time.

“You're so beautiful,” he says brokenly, looking down at Dream moonwashed in their bed.

Dream bites his lip, somehow managing to look both coquettish and nervous. “They call my prophecy a gift from the gods,” he says. “But I think their true gift was bringing us together.”

Hob can’t help but agree.

“I know I have… asked the impossible of you,” Dream says, not quite meeting his eyes. “And now I must ask yet more, for once again I cannot embark on the path I have chosen without you.”

“Not impossible,” Hob murmurs, kissing Dream again and replacing the teeth at his lip with his own. “We made it, Dream. We’re here together. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Dream takes a deep breath, and smiles. Hob’s heart flips over in his chest. When was the last time he saw Dream smile? 

“Very well, Hob Gadling,” he says, looking up at him from under his lashes. “Then prove it. Make me yours, and not the oracle. Make me… Make me come on your cock.”

He hesitates slightly over the unaccustomed filth, and Hob credits years of self-denial with the fact that he didn’t come on the spot, hearing those words in Dream’s voice.

“As you wish, my love,” he manages, strangled. To that end, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down Dream’s chest, tasting at his sternum, his navel.

“Hob,” Dream begins uncertainly, but Hob soothes him, running his thumbs over his hips, then lower, dragging a finger through his folds. Dream shivers.

“Already so wet,” Hob says in wonder. What a miracle, to have this gorgeous creature willing and wanting for him. “You’ll get what you want.” He kisses Dream’s upper thighs. “I’m going to get you ready first.” There had been no rule requiring Hob to keep chaste, but as the thought of lying with anyone other than Dream had been abhorrent, he has no particular experience with what Dream needs. However, given that Dream has never taken so much as a finger before, he can infer.

And there had been talk. There was always talk, whether the speakers had known Hob was in earshot or not. Defiling the oracle was the height of taboo and therefore a pervasive fantasy.

Well, Dream was his. And he would do everything in his power to care for him.

Dream nods, his eyes enormous, and that’s the last he sees of Dream’s face for some time as he licks between his legs.

Hob brings all of his well-earned skill to bear, everything that makes Dream sing out sweet sounds above him, and it’s so much like every other time, only everything is different. When Hob judges the time is right, he slowly, carefully, slips the tip of his tongue into Dream.

“Ah!” Dream’s exclamations increase in intensity, and he thinks they both need a moment. He raises his head, licking his lips of Dream’s sweet ambrosia. Dream is gripping Hob’s wrists for dear life and looks up hungrily, his pupils dilated.

“All right, love?” Hob makes himself ask. Dream is nodding before he finishes.

“More,” he demands, and who is Hob to deny him? He bends down, daring to press his tongue a little further. Their surroundings make it easy to remember that now his goal is to bring about what had once been forbidden. He exists in a sort of in-between place of what has always been his job — bringing Dream pleasure — and the constant anticipation as he crosses line after line in preparation to break, at last, his former vow.

Dream’s body responds to him just as it always has, and Hob can only pray that he can provide enough stimulus to get him completely out of his head. He wants Dream to have no regrets, only joy.

Finally, when he has worked his tongue as far into Dream as it will go, and his jaw is starting to ache, he regretfully withdraws, Dream’s fluids coating his chin. Dream is panting, staring at the ceiling, though he looks hoodedly at Hob as he registers the pause. He’s nowhere near climax, but the lines of his body are softer, and it heartens Hob to see. He kisses Dream deeply, and it isn’t until Dream’s shuddering moan that he realises Dream would never have had occasion to taste himself before.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Hob’s voice is rough, tuned low with lust. “Gods, you taste divine. Always have.”

“Hob,” Dream whispers. So far, despite it all, it’s nothing they couldn’t take back, if they had to. Hob intends to take them over that line, as promised, but he’s bringing Dream with him every step of the way.

“Still doing all right?” He feels compelled to check in, though Dream is showing no signs of distress. He strokes a hand through Dream’s wild hair. Dream leans into it, like gentling a spooked horse.

“I am… well,” Dream answers. Hob would have hoped to be doing better than that, but he accepts it for now. 

“I have never told you,” and there is a spark of mischief in Dream’s eyes, “how much I enjoy your tongue.”

Hob, for his part, is struck speechless. Of course he hadn’t. Why would he? It was a job. But now he just wants to lay himself out in worship again.

He swallows hard and sticks to his plan. “I’m going to start with fingers now, okay love?”

Dream takes in a shaky breath and nods. Hob kisses him again in reassurance, waiting, he realises belatedly, for Dream to tell him to stop, to take it back. But he doesn’t, and Hob has promised. So he continues, bestowing another lick and earning another shiver, before he slowly, gently, slides a finger into Dream.

The way is easy and slick, but Dream still gasps at the intrusion, screwing his eyes shut and almost, almost pulls away, before he masters himself and relaxes. Hob doesn’t move his hand a single inch, he just waits, stroking Dream’s hair.

“Shh, darling, that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Just relax. No rush, nothing you need to do. Take your time.”

Several deep breaths later, Dream opens his eyes. There are tears clinging to his lashes, devastatingly gorgeous. His hands occupied, Hob kisses them away.

“Hob, I…” Dream says at length, and though Hob waits, it seems Dream has no more words to say. He presses their foreheads together and they share breaths.

“I know,” Hob says. “It’s a lot. Do you want me to stop?”

The shake of Dream’s head is small, but immediate. “Do not,” he says for good measure, and Hob feels better. “I am just…” 

Again, he fails to finish the sentence, but Hob understands. 

“I have you,” he says. “And you’ll always have me, Dream. No matter what.”

“Hob.” Dream pulls him down into a kiss. At the same time, he twists his hips, taking Hob’s finger even deeper. Hob gives a startled moan.

“Please, Hob,” Dream prompts. Hob nods.

“Okay, love,” he says. “We’ll take it slow.”

Too concerned with Dream’s comfort, he hasn’t really taken the time to process that his finger is now inside Dream, but he does now, exploring with slow circles while Dream takes shaky, hitching breaths.

“You’re amazing,” Hob says, overwhelmed. “So soft and warm and perfect. How lucky am I that I get to be here, doing this?”

“Hob,” Dream whimpers, arching his back.

“That’s it, love.” Unable to resist the temptation of those pert pink buds, he has to get his mouth on them again, and Dream collapses to the bed, whining. Hob uses the distraction to inch a second finger into Dream.

It’s a tighter fit, and Dream’s breath hisses. Hob pulls back, rubbing tiny circles on Dream’s clit with his thumb. His fingers stay where they are.

“You’re doing great,” he says, as Dream writhes and pants. “You’re so tight, but that’s okay, love. We’ll get you nice and loose and open so you can take my cock.” Dream lets out a moan. “You want that, right?” Dream nods desperately. “Okay. We’ll get you there.”

“Hob,” Dream gasps out. “Hob, I’m afraid.”

Hob stills, but doesn’t stop, running his free hand up and down Dream’s side soothingly. “What are you afraid of, my heart?”

“I—” Dream’s cheeks, already flushed, blush a deeper red. “I’m afraid you’ll stop,” he admits, and Hob opens his mouth, but Dream rushes on. “I’m afraid I’ll come too soon.” His voice is smaller as he says it.

Hob can’t help but kiss him, and is reassured by the way Dream melts into it. “First,” he says, kissing the tip of Dream’s nose, “I promised you I wouldn’t stop, and I keep my promises. Don’t I?” Dream nods again. “That’s right. The only one who can stop me is you, my love.” To prove it, he swivels his fingers inside Dream, who arches again.

“And two,” here he kisses both of Dream’s rosy cheeks, “if you want to come, then come. That’s rather the point of this. You’ll still get my cock, if that’s what you want.” Hob’s wounds had never felt further away from him. “And if you don’t, that’s fine too.” He scissors his fingers a little, and Dream’s legs fall open. “There are no rules, here. Nothing you have to do, except enjoy it, and tell me when you don’t. Yeah?”

He rather thinks Dream won’t come early, given how long he’s spent denied, but doesn’t feel the need to say anything. Far better for Dream to understand that he’s free of any roles or obligations, for what might be the first time in his life.

It’s certainly no hardship to worship Dream’s body, the way he’s always wanted to. It feels like a blessing, like they’ve created a little piece of paradise in this bed, just the two of them. Hob is hard, of course, in his braies, desperately so, but it feels irrelevant, in the moment, to working Dream open enough to take three fingers, which he does with utmost patience, as Dream shudders beneath him on a great inhale.

“Hob,” Dream sighs, eyelids fluttering, sweat standing out on his brow. Hob thinks he’s never looked more beautiful. “No more.” Before Hob can pull back, ask for clarification, Dream fixes him with those stunning blue eyes. “Your cock. Please.”

Hob makes a strangled noise. His absolute imperative not to hurt Dream wars with how on Earth he’s supposed to say no to that. 

“Okay, love,” he says, taking a deep breath, slipping his fingers out of Dream, who shivers at the loss. “Okay.” He casts about for the salve, figuring that something meant to heal certainly couldn’t hurt. It’s warm as he spreads it on his fingers, and he imagines it will feel good for Dream.

He slicks up his cock with shaking hands, head ringing like he’s taken a blow to the back of it at the thought of actually putting it inside Dream. Even the lightest touch makes him have to take several more breaths so he doesn’t ruin all his careful preparation. Dream is watching him, apprehension deep in his eyes. 

“Hey, Dream, can you breathe for me?” he asks gently, leaning down to pet Dream’s hair with the hand not currently coated in salve. “It’s going to be okay. If you don’t like it, I can make you come without it, or we can stop here for now, if you want. I won’t let anyone make you the oracle again, no matter what. You know that, right?” 

Dream, still flushed and glorious, takes a few unsteady breaths. “I do want it,” he says. “I just—” He huffs in frustration.

“Yeah. It’s scary, isn’t it?”

Dream shoots him a look like he thinks Hob’s patronising him. Hob grins. “Feel my hand shaking?” He holds it out for Dream’s inspection. Dream subsides, looking awed. “We’re in this together, my love,” he reminds Dream. “Whatever you want, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

Before he finishes speaking, Dream leaps, pulling him in for a hungry, biting kiss.

“I love you, Hob Gadling,” he says fiercely, and Hob reels anew. They’ve never said the words, never needed to, Hob thought, until hearing them from Dream now. “I want to be yours. Will you fuck me?”

“Oh, my darling,” Hob says, hardly aware of what he’s saying. “I’m going to make love to you.”

Hob can’t resist kissing him once more before reaching for more salve, slicking himself again before tracing his fingers delicately through Dream’s folds. 

Dream keens. “Hob,” is all he says, but in that word is a world of urgency.

“I’ve got you,” Hob whispers, his voice fled under the weight. “Ready now.”

He actually has to try a couple of times, because of how much his hands are shaking, and the amount of fluids between them, but it is a temporary awkwardness. Slowly, carefully, Hob pushes his way into Dream.

They both gasp, at the first breach of muscle. Dream freezes, his entire body tensing, and Hob caresses his hips as best he can while not moving from his spot.

“There we are, darling, it’s okay, see? Just breathe, and tell me when you’re ready. Breathe,” he prompts, and Dream’s chest kicks like a resurrection. “That’s it, love, that’s it, is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

Dream shakes his head, almost dislodging Hob from his position.

Relief suffuses Hob’s body. He’d done his job well enough, at least. 

“It is… odd,” Dream muses. “Pressure.” He looks down, and then up again. “You are inside me, Hob.” In his voice is a kind of revelatory wonder, as though he has just now realized that this had always been the goal.

The grin splits Hob’s face wide, wide, and his absolute adoration for the creature beneath him only just surpasses his animal instinct to bury himself in warm, welcoming softness. “Yeah, I sure am,” he replies, though it hadn’t really been a question. “How do you feel about it?”

“I feel…” he shifts, experimentally, and their breath catches as the movement slips Hob further inside. “Oh… I feel so much.”

Hob can’t seem to stop shaking, barely holding back ecstatic tears. He has been inside Dream for all of a moment and his lifetime of carefully cultivated control is flying out the window. “Yeah?” he says, thickly. “Move? Tell me when.” He absolutely does not want to rush Dream but his reasons why are dwindling the longer he hovers on a knife’s edge between not pushing deeper and shaking so hard he’s afraid he’ll slip out and won’t be able to get himself back in.

Soft compassion sparks in Dream’s eyes, and he reaches out for Hob’s face. Hob obligingly contorts his spine to facilitate the connection. Nothing else matters as long as Dream is touching him.

“You can move, Hob,” he says, and Hob lets out a sob at being granted permission.

“Slowly,” Hob nods, as much for himself as for Dream. “Gonna go slow, gonna be so good to you, gonna worship you…” His muscles spasm with the effort of holding back as he presses cautiously forward. Dream gasps and arches, drawing him deeper, and then squeezes his eyes shut, his expression not wholly one of pleasure. Hob freezes immediately, cold washing over him.

“Love?” he questions, trying to wring words out of a brain which is rapidly dribbling out his ears.

“Doesn’t… hurt,” Dream manages, not sounding sure enough about it for Hob’s comfort. “It is… a stretch.” He looks down. “Will it really… all fit inside me?” 

Hob has never worried overmuch about the size of his cock but he wishes he were smaller now.

“I think so,” Hob says, as gently as he can. “And if not, that’s okay too, yeah?” The fever of arousal in his blood is as nothing to his horror at the thought of making it fit, like Dream’s body and pleasure didn’t matter. He may be making it up as he goes along, but it’s still Dream, and he’s here, allowed to be inside him, allowed to make him come. He thinks they’ll be able to figure it out.

Dream is so tight around him it’s nearly painful, in a way he can’t separate from how good it feels. Moving as little as possible, he presses his thumb to Dream’s clit, rubbing soothing circles. Dream sighs out a moan, relaxing slightly, and Hob glows with pride.

Inch by inch, with lots of caresses and kisses and gentle stimulation, Hob makes space for himself inside Dream. Dream pants, and keens, and bites his lip, and is generally the most devastatingly sexy he’s ever been, because he’s doing it for himself. Because he wants. Hob feels carved out, too, like his heart has expanded to fill his whole body, leaving no extra space.

He’s lapping at Dream’s nipples, where he’d been indulging himself ever since he’d been able to reach them, while Dream grips his hair and holds him there, luxuriating in his pleasure, when Hob suddenly finds he has nowhere left to go. He looks up, stunned, his cock wrapped in the vise grip of Dream’s body.

“That’s it,” he says, breathless. “You did it, love. It’s all in.”

Dream gasps, and clutches Hob closer. “Really?”

“Really.” Hob pushes the sweaty fringe back from Dream’s face, suffused with tenderness. “Doing so well, love. So proud of you.”

“You… always say that.” Dream sounds wrecked, blissed-out and hazy; Hob takes a moment to pat himself on the back.

“Always think it,” he says, nuzzling into Dream’s collarbones. “Can’t stop myself saying things.” This is evidenced, Hob thinks, by the fact that he is still capable of forming words, even while losing his entire mind from arousal, buried inside Dream.

“Will you, still?” Dream asks, his voice smaller. “When I’m not…?”

Hob is in no way eloquent enough to answer the way he ought; he nods, emphatically, against Dream’s chest. “Always. Every day. Best person in the world,” he says thickly. “Can’t wait.”

“Oh.” Dream takes a moment to consider this. Then, “Hob, I think I would like to come now,” he says, in a slightly strained tone.

Hob huffs a laugh. “I’ll do my best, sweeting.”

He makes tiny motions with his hips, but it’s difficult, actually, with Dream so tight. This time, though, Dream is enthusiastic in his reciprocation, pushing back against him with punched out noises, and before Hob knows it — he may have blacked out a little — he’s sliding in and out of Dream. Not fully, but enough that the bed is creaking a little as a counterpoint to their pants and moans.

“Hob,” Dream whines, head thrashing on the pillow. “Hob, please.”

“Oh, love,” Hob says, his blood on fire, “What d’you need?”

“Please,” Dream begs again, and it’s clear that both of them are beyond words. Hob, who by this point has managed to regain a single clue, goes for Dream’s clit again, giving himself over to well-practiced motions while trying to maintain a rhythm. Dream’s mouth falls open, and he lets out a low, continuous wail that Hob can hardly hear over the rushing of his heart.

“Oh, ohh— oh… no!” The discordant note of Dream’s despair snaps Hob out of his frenzy as Dream’s eyes roll back in his head, his mouth moving, making words not his own. “Wind from the east—”

Hob swoops in to kiss him before he realizes what he’s done, capturing his lips with his own, silencing the meaningless syllables. Dream’s eyes are wide and blank, and Hob keeps kissing him, willing him to come back, until Dream sobs against his mouth. Hob can taste the salt of tears. Everything stops.

“Oh, lovey.” Hob strokes Dream’s hair, holding him through the tears. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just breathe. I’m here. Take your time.”

“It was right there!” Dream exclaims, thumping a fist against the sheets. “I was so close, and then I wasn’t, and then…” He looks up apprehensively. “What did I say?”

“It’s not important,” Hob says, as Dream just stares at him. “I mean it, love. You’re not the oracle any more, it doesn’t matter. I care so much less about any potential prophecy than I care about you.”

Dream’s mouth is an ‘o’ of astonishment. He blinks, several times, as his breath slowly returns to normal. It isn’t until then that Hob notices that he’s still inside Dream, his arousal, once so overbearing, suddenly insignificant.

“D’you want to stop?” he asks, as gently as he can. Dream jolts, likely under the same realization as Hob. 

“I…” He visibly considers, chewing his lip. His eyes flick up to Hob. “But you—”

“Fuck that.” Hob has to nip this in the bud. “Don’t you dare worry about me. I’ve been perfectly fine with my hand up to now, and I will be again, because nothing on earth will make me want to keep going if you don’t.”

There is a longer pause. Finally, Dream meets his eyes. “I want,” he says. “To continue. To try again. But—” He spreads his hands, helplessly. 

“I told you,” Hob says, returning his hands to Dream’s hair. “We have all the time in the world. I don’t care how long it takes. We’ll try again, and if it doesn’t happen tonight, it doesn’t happen. Not the end of the world, dove. We’ll just try again tomorrow.”

Dream gives him a tremulous smile. Hob begins, with equal parts regret and relief, to ease out. Dream makes a little forlorn noise. 

“Just for a minute, darling,” Hob reassures him, kissing his cheek. “I’m coming back, I promise.” He hisses as the cooler air of the room hits his (still quite hard) cock, and Dream shivers, left empty.

Hob pours a cup of water from the jug and makes Dream drink it, and then heaves himself to his feet, groaning as the pain of his injuries return with a vengeance, to see to the fire. Once it’s crackling merrily, he returns to the bed, walking carefully, though it’s all worth it to see the assessing look Dream gives the erection jutting proudly from between Hob’s legs. He licks his lips and Hob thinks he might actually go mad before the night is over. Worth it, if so.

“Was that really inside me?” Dream asks, only looking away when Hob eases himself back onto the bed.

“Yeah,” Hob nods, trying to stretch out the kinks in his muscles. “Should be a bit easier this time, if you still want.”

Dream nods before he is finished speaking. “I want,” he says.

Hob feels a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the fire, basking in Dream’s undisguised lust for him as he sips his own water. He’d known, of course, that Dream found him attractive, but it had been a background thing. Irrelevant. Why torture themselves by expressing it? 

There had been a lot like that, Hob is now realizing. Incredible, what you can get used to.

But here, now, they’re free to act and react however they wish, and Hob doesn’t intend to keep Dream waiting any longer. Dream’s eyes are still red-rimmed as Hob gently pushes him back against the pillows.

“Let me know if you’re sore,” he says. Dream gives him a once-over lingering on his injured side, then arches an eyebrow, his meaning obvious. Hob splutters.

“Shut up,” he says. “That’s different.” He kisses Dream before he can voice a protest.

Dream whines as he pulls away, testing Dream's folds gently. “Hob. I don’t know if I can…”

“Shh, love,” Hob says, understanding immediately. “I don’t need to work you up any more. Just promise me you’ll try to relax.” He grabs the salve again — now much depleted — and then it’s time. 

He pushes his way into Dream with far less resistance than last time, Dream yielding with an arch and a gasp. 

This, Hob thinks, this is worth all of the anguish, as he inches in until he’s fully seated, moaning in harmony with Dream. To be here, now, Dream laid out loose and languid beneath him, nothing expected of him but pleasure.

“That’s it, love,” he coos. “You’re perfect. So fucking beautiful and mine.” His to protect, his to love and cherish. Dream makes a noise he’s never heard before, clutching at his hips. 

“Hob, please. Move.” So Hob does. “Ah, ah—”

The sounds of Dream’s pleasure are like wine, and Hob wants to drink them from his mouth.

“Yeah? This good for you, sweetheart?” Dream’s chorus of encouragement makes the question slightly irrelevant. Hob keeps at it; slow, rolling thrusts, and a quiet stream of praise. “I have you. Nothing you have to do. Just give into it. Relax, and feel good. There’s no one here. No one but us.” He breaks off with a whimper. “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Hob. Haah—”

“So fucking good, fuck, Dream, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Dream gasps, drawing him closer like a particularly determined octopus, and Hob goes willingly. The slick velvet catch and slide of Dream’s body is incomparable to anything he’s ever felt. If he weren’t hard enough to pound nails, he’d stay here forever if he could, to always feel as connected to Dream as he feels in this moment.

He grits his teeth, trying hard to grip the razor’s edge of his composure as Dream meets him thrust for thrust, his hair a riotous shadow against the roughspun sheets.

“Ho-ob!” Dream wails, his belly twitching, and Hob, conditioned to a lifetime of quick responses to this exact moment, does the first thing he can think of, which is to press his hand flat against Dream’s belly to feel it for himself.

Dream jerks like he’s been struck by lightning, every muscle in his body seizing, eyes shooting wide, mouth open in a silent scream. The insistent fluttering of his walls around him turns out to be too much for Hob’s tenuous control and he spills over inside Dream, panting like a racehorse and feeling like he’s been run over by one.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Dream…” There’s so much of it, on and on, and through it all Dream’s hips make little involuntary motions, taking Hob for all he’s worth until he’s convinced he’ll die of it — but what a way to go. His head hangs down between his shoulders as he shudders through it, holding Dream as close as he can while Dream makes tiny cries in time with the twitch of his hips.

Finally, Hob can take no more of it and gently, gently pulls out, a process complicated by Dream’s body clinging to him for dear life. When Hob does manage to slip free, accompanied by a messy rush between their bodies, Dream keens as though bereft and tries to curl in on himself. Hob barely has the presence of mind to keep from collapsing directly on top of him, drawing him into the lee of his arms with clumsy motions.

“Shh, love,” he whispers. “Shh, it’s all right. You’re fine, I’m here. I’m here. I love you.”

He holds Dream close while they both shake with the force of their heaving breaths, running soothing hands over every inch he can reach.

There are silent tears on Dream’s cheeks. His heart seizes, and he fights through the languor to be able to form words.

“Gods, please tell me I didn’t hurt you…”

Dream squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head, tears scattering like diamonds. Hob crosses the impossible distance to cup Dream’s face in his hand.

“Words, darling, please,” he begs. 

Dream reaches for his hand, grasping it after several tries and twining their fingers together.

“I am well, Hob,” he says, voice serene. The tears are still streaming down his face. “I am no longer the oracle. I am… free.” He says it with such wonder that Hob is nearly moved to tears himself. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, you are.” They both are. Hob is free to love Dream as fiercely as he’s always wanted to, and he will never take it for granted.

“During that last moment,” Dream continues, “just before I lost my powers. I saw…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hob says firmly. “I told you. You’re not the oracle any more. Let it be forgotten.”

“Not this,” Dream insists. “I saw us, Hob.” His voice is hushed. “Sitting outside a house — our house. Together.”

Hob loses his breath as he imagines it. It’s everything he’d ever wanted for Dream, for himself. Everything he’d thought they could never have.

“The sun was setting over seaside cliffs. There was a garden.” Tears are still flowing unchecked down Dream’s cheeks, but Dream sounds as content as Hob has ever heard him. “And in my arms…” He takes Hob’s hand and draws it to rest over his abdomen. 

Hob might never breathe again.

“A baby, with… with my hair,” Dream forces out through renewed tears, “and your eyes.”

Hob can’t think of a single thing to say. He scoops Dream up, rolling them until Dream is nestled on his chest. Dream squeaks at the unaccustomed position.

“Really?” It’s official; his happiness could not be more complete. “Dream, you absolute marvel. You’re perfect, I adore you—” He plants kisses on every inch of Dream he can reach. “Wait.” He pauses as the thought occurs to him. “Are you… saying we made a baby? Just now?”

Dream in his arms is loose and relaxed, flushed and happy, and Hob would give everything to ensure he looks like this always. 

“I do not know,” Dream answers. “We shall have to wait and see. Or—” A smirk Hob would not have thought him capable of crosses his face. “We could keep trying, until we know for sure.”

Hob finds himself laughing harder than he can remember in a long time. “We might just have to,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “Wouldn’t do to have your final prophecy not come true, eh?”

Dream just smiles, and nuzzles into his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, Dream,” Hob replies, already a reflex. He can’t wait to say it every chance he gets. 

Well and truly tapped out on adrenaline now, Hob can barely keep his eyes open long enough to make an attempt at cleaning them up, before cradling the most precious thing in the world to his chest. He sleeps.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

u were probably giggling to yourself writing that you absolute creature

ANYWAYS HAPPY THOUGHTS- any hcs for what the boys would get up to during valentines? 👁👁 (either canon or the au)

-🦀

OH BOY!!! DO I have some Valentines thoughts for you!!

David is, despite what some people peg him for, a very classy romantic. He is a flowers and breakfast in bed kind of Valentine, a massage and pre-planned day off work kind of guy. He not only got Angel chocolates, he went out to a local chocolateer and got a custom box with their faves. He cooks, I think, rather than going out, since he hates sitting in crowded, over prices restaurants with every other couple in Dahlia. It's all careful attention to detail and absolute rapturous love for Angel that pushes him to craft these perfect days for the two of them.

Asher is a simple guy. He sees a giant teddy bear and he buys it. And it's not just to satisfy his own consumer needs, Babe has an affinity for comically over or undersized objects. They love tiny knick knack versions of things and they love oversized versions of things as well. Giant teddy bears with huge boxes of chocolates make them so happy. Asher also makes a boo basked, a bur basket, a Valentine's basket, any chance he has he's making a basket full of Babe's favorite stuff. It makes them feel very see.

Milo is a fancy mother fucker. Nobody knows how he does it, but he manages to smother Sweetheart in gifts no matter the time of year. Has he barely recovered from Christmas?? Yes. Is that going to stop him from going all out on the day of love?? Absolutely not. I'm talking jewelry, a new outfit that is perfectly tailored, reservations at a fancy restaurant (don't you worry, Crab Anon, I have not forgotten about the one shot regarding the stolen date night, it is coming eventually), and desert somewhere special. He's all about getting his Sweetheart what he knows they deserve and that is the absolute best.

Sam is a simple guy. He doesn't buy in to the consumer aspect of Valentine's, and that works out because neither does Darlin'. Instead, they choose to simply spend their time together. A lazy morning laying in bed together, making breakfast still in their pajamas, laying around on the couch and watching rom-coms, ordering in heart shaped pizza when it gets late. Very simple, but very intimate and very them.

Vincent used to be very much like Milo, but he's recently taken a swing more towards Sam. He and Lovely have landed somewhere in the middle, giving thoughtful, personal gifts and ordering in a nice dinner in. Spending so much time just being with each other, less focused on the material and more on the emotional. This year, he got Lovely a Stanley cup and a collection of very fancy coffee flavors to try out since they are a teacher and are constantly dehydrated and undercaffinated.

Porter doesn't Do Valentine's. If buying flowers and chocolates gets him a good lay on the day of, then so be it, but he's certainly not asking anybody to be his Valentine or being all saccharine and sappy for longer than is necessary.

[semisolidmind]

ok hear me out—

(sue me but he was one of the only mfs in that damn place who wasn't tryna kill the player and i think we should have been able to save him. so, fix it au where y/n helps the gang escape and they live happily in a secluded house in the woods)

[rmbunnie]

Red Hood Characterization

This is really long so I'm putting a cut here, I've been thinking about Jason Todd's character motivations and the question of whether or not his actions are based in a Moral Code (I don't think so, not to say he's without any morality) and I talk about that in more depth here.

I saw someone say on here that Titans: Beast World: Gotham City was some of the best Jason Todd internal writing they'd seen in a while, and I've been a Red Hood fan for 8 years or so now? pretty much since I read comics for the first time, so I went and checked out and I thought it was good! The way the person I saw talking about it as if it was rare and unusual made me wonder though, because as well-written as i thought his stances on crime were, there wasn't really anything in it that went against the way I conceptualize Jason?

This kinda plays into a larger question I've been thinking about for a while with Jason though, which is that, do people think that the killing is part of a fundamental worldview that motivates him a la batman, and that worldview is the reason he does the things he does?? Because 8 years ago i was a middle schooler engaging with fiction on the level that a middle schooler does, so I simply did not put much thought into it beyond "poor guy :(" but ever since I actually started trying to understand consistent characterization, I don't really see Jason as someone who's motivated by a moral code in his actions the way batman or superman is!

tbh my personal read is that he's a very socially-motivated guy, his actions from resurrection to his Joker-Batman ultimatum in utrh always seemed to me like every choice made leading up to his identity reveal was either a. to give him the leverage and skill necessary to pull off his identity reveal successfully, or b. to twist the knife that little bit more when he does let Bruce find out who he is. Like iirc there's a Judd Winick tweet like "yeah tldr he chose Red Hood as his identity because it's the lowest blow he could think of." And I think that's awesome, I think character motivations rooted so deeply in character's relationships and emotions are really fun to read! I also think it's where the stagnation/flatness of his character comes from in certain comics, because if his main motivation is one event in one relationship that passes, and he is not particularly attached to anything in his life or the world by the time that comes to pass, it's a little harder to come up with a direction to go with the character after that, because there isn't much of a direction that aligns with something the character would reasonably want? But I do think solving this by saying "all of the morally-off emotionally driven cruelty he did on his way to spite Batman was actually reflective of his own version of Batman's stance that's exactly the same except he thinks it's GOOD to kill people" isn't ideal. To be fully honest, it seems to me like he never particularly cared one way or the other about killing people to "clean Gotham of crime," he just did everything he could to get the power necessary to pull off his personal plans, and took out any particularly heinous people he encountered along the way (like in Lost Days.) Not to say I think the fact he killed people keeps him up at night anymore than everything else in his life events, I just never really thought he was out there wholeheartedly kneecapping some dude selling weed or random guy robbing a tv store for justice.

Looping wayyy back to my question, Is this (^) contradictory to the way he's written/the overall average perception of the character? Because like I enjoyed his writing in Beast World i have zero significant issue with anything there, I just didn't believe it would be a hot take, like yeah, that is Jason. It's been a while since I've read utrh and lost days, but I don't think my takeaway directly contradicts either of those too bad iirc. Idk all this to say I think Jason killing and being alright with killing is an obvious and objective fact, but i guess i've always seen it as more of a practical tactic than a moral belief, and I think taking the actions made during the lowest points of a character's life where he is obsessively focused on this ONEEEE thing and trying to apply it as a Motivating Stance to everything he's done after that, doesn't really follow logically for me.

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?

[beef-brisket]

Adam didn't know what to do. He couldn't get to her before she pulled the trigger, if he was closer... sure. But her eyes were on him, watching his every move.

He'd only spoken to her once and... he had no idea what she was about. If he knew more, he could distract her.

Fuck, he wouldn't care of the gun was pointed at him. He'd give his life for Lucifer easily. But he couldn't let her hurt him. He's come such a long way, and Adam doesn't want that taken from him. Especially by Lilith.

Adam: ...What do you want...?

Lilith smirked: Can't you tell~?

Adam: ...No, not really. There has to be some reason as to why you're obsessed with Lucifer.

Lilith glared: I'm not "obsessed". He doesn't deserve happiness. He doesn't get to JUST move on! And you think you can save him?! You're delusional!

Oh boy, she really was insane.

What can he do? He has no weapons. But she was a talker, maybe if he could get her in her own head and just... monologue, he could get close.

Adam: ...Why bother? Why do you care if he's moved on...? Haven't you?

Lilith: Yes! I've more than moved on! He's nothing! NOTHING! I did everything for this fool, managed his business while he played with his toy ducks, and gave him a child that nearly killed me! I did everything for him! And I won't let him just forget me-! I torment him until he's deep in the fucking earth!

As Lilith spoke, Adam managed to get closer to her.

Lilith: Now, say goodbye, you two~. Your pathetic love affair is over!

Adam grabbed the gun and managed to pull it and Lilith away from Lucifer.

As soon as he heard the commotion, Lucifer jumped to his feeling, feeling completely lost on how to help Adam. He wasn't even sure if he could.

Looking around frantically, Lucifer had an idea.

Running to the kitchen, Lucifer pulled open all the draws, looking for the o ly sharp knife he had in his house.

But before he could grab it, he heard a deafening bang.

He couldn't move. His breath was caught in his throat. He stood there trying to listen for any sound at all.

But all he heard was a thud and then footsteps running out of the door.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad, 18+ mdni! 

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

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

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[reidrum]

how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things | s.r.

A/N: this is literally prn with no plot i’m sorry. i just really love thinking about spencer on his knees sue me! this was supposed to be longer but then i decided to save it for when i write for juno heheh

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spencer AND munch!spencer look at that a 2-for-1!, fingering fem receiving, brief condescending!spence if you blink, many many pet names, spencer says good girl that’s a warning on its own, afab!reader

summary: you and spencer come home from a night out and he knows exactly what to say to get you wrapped around his finger (literally!)

wc: 1.4k

_______________________________________________

You stumble through the door with Spencer trailing not too far behind you. You’d both been out with the team getting drinks and as the night progressed Spencer found himself getting especially touchy with you, so much that you could still feel the imprint of his hand on your inner thigh.

The drinks of the night had long faded leaving you in a haze as you both entered your apartment, Spencer’s solid frame coming up behind you to hold your waist.

“Good thing I’m here to make sure you don’t fall.” He chuckles softly.

He slowly turns you around and gently pushes you against the wall. You give him a lazy smile as your hand reaches up to trace the outline of his jaw, “You’re pretty.”

“If I’m pretty, what does that make you?”

“Lucky.”

Spencer blushes and smiles softly, “That was good,” He bends down to press a kiss to the spot behind your ear, slowly trailing down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. His fingers press into the sides of your hips, “You okay? Still feeling it?”

You shake your head no pointedly, “Just fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy is good,” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, “You’re nicer when you’re fuzzy.”

“I’m nice all the time!” You feign offense.

He chuckles back, “Okay, you are nice all the time. I think I meant more…compliant.”

You grin up at him, “What, you don’t like me in control?”

“No I do, trust me, I do. But, you deserve to be taken care of. And I really like it when I get to take care of you. It’s easier for me to do that when you’re all…fuzzy.”

Another lazy smiles adorns you and Spencer can’t help but lean in and kiss your nose.

“Well, we aren’t doing anything until these devil shoes come off.” You mutter softly.

Spencer laughs and kisses you one last time before smoothing his hands down your side as he sinks to his knees, gesturing you to lift your foot up and perch it on his shoulder, allowing perfect access to your heel.

You lean back against the wall attempting to flatten your back to ease the aching of it. Through hooded eyes you look down to meet Spencer’s hazel ones staring right back at yours, as his fingers ghost over the straps of your heels.

“Feet hurt?” He asks as he presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh of your calf, gently massaging the skin as he works his way down the buckle of your heel.

“In these? Always.” You laugh back.

“Oh, poor baby.” He mumbles back with a pout, leaning forward to kiss the base of your ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in entice as you watch him leave kisses up your leg, hands following their path and caressing the skin it touches. He gently places your bare foot on the ground and picks up the other heeled one, placing it on his shoulder and repeating the same motions.

The intimacy of the moment strikes you as you watch his long fingers toy with the buckles and straps of your heels before sliding them off. Your hand subconsciously reaches for his hair and cards through it gently, pushing it away from his eyes.

“Hi.” you whisper.

He looks up to meet your gaze, “Hi, honey.”

“You look pretty down there.”

A chuckle escapes him, “Do I?”

You nod, “Are you going to stay down there or…?”

His fingers dance around your calves slowly inching upwards, “What do you want me to do?”

Humming softly at the touch, you lean your head back against the wall, “I want…whatever you want.”

Spencer laughs again, “See? My compliant, pretty girl.” His fingers reach the hem of your dress, slowly inching further up, “I think I’ll stay down here for a little bit…if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s o—okay.” Your breath hitches as he toys with the outer edges of your panties. His fingers trace the outline out to in, just missing contact with where you want him.

You whine softly as he continues to evade the one spot you need him, squirming against the wall for any friction you can find. He lightly chastises you, “So needy…you’re acting like you haven’t been touched in weeks.”

“Spence…”

He hums, “But that’s not true, right?” One finger strokes the front of your panties, tracing a path from the wet patch up to your clothed clit.

“N—No.” You half moan.

His finger lays more pressure, “I take really good care of you, right angel?”

A curse slips from you as he strokes you over your panties.

Spencer smirks as he hooks his index fingers on either side of your panties and slowly starts to drag it down, not missing how the fabric sticks to your slick like honey. “You know why, I take such good care of you?”

You’re too caught up in the anticipation to respond, but that’s not enough for Spencer when he stops his motions and taps your leg, “I asked you a question.”

You look down at him and shake your head exasperatedly, hoping the silent answer was enough for him to continue since you’re nearly on the ledge from the way his hands are moving.

His finger trails back up your leg and ghosts over your exposed cunt, teasing you endlessly, “I take care of you…because you’re a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Spencer…please…” You’re not sure how much longer you can take this, your body squirming for any contact.

“Say it.” He pulls back so he can look you directly in the eyes, a single digit sliding through your folds.

“Jesus, fuck,” you let out breathlessly, “Okay, okay I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl, just please…” You can’t even bring yourself to care at how desperate you sound, you would start begging like a sinner in church if he didn’t do anything soon.

He smirks, “That’s my girl,” he taps your thigh, “Over my shoulder.” You quickly abide and raise your leg over his shoulder and rest your thigh on it. Spencer leans in and dives into your folds like a man starved, your hands moving to tangle in his hair and in an effort to stabilize yourself. His tongue motions like he’s making a painting and you definitely think you deserve to be hung in the Louvre after this.

You feel him add a finger in and you’re a goner.

“Spence…I’m—fuck oh my god, please don’t stop.” You whine.

His lips detach from you while he adds another fingers and continues his motions and he mumbles, “You gonna come for me, angel? Been like, what a few minutes and you’re already about to make a mess on my fingers…so needy.” he teases.

He returns back to your core, licking long and thick stripes up and down, his fingers not slowing down as he brings you closer to the edge. The peak begins to build in your gut and the climax overtakes you, a mixture of expletives and Spencer’s name leaving your mouth like a twisted spell.

You release your death grip on his hair as he sits back to catch his breath. You slump down the wall to sit in front of him, your leg still swung over his shoulder. He smiles fondly at you and holds the ankle next to his head, leaning in to press a kiss, “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm…” You hazily say, “Peachy, even.”

His eyes narrow slightly, “…Because they’re fuzzy?” you giggle and nod feeling super proud of your pun. He can’t help but laugh with endearment with you as he gently helps your leg off his shoulder and places it on the ground before standing up himself and reaching his hands out for you to grab it, “Let’s go to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

You place your hands in his and allow him to pull you up, once you’re on your feet you register his words, “Wait, huh?”

He slowly spins you around so his chest is to your back and starts guiding you down the hallway, “Oh baby, did you think we were stopping at one?” he whispers sultrily in your ear. A shudder runs down your spine and he laughs feeling you shake in his arms.

[mrsriddlenott]

~Teach Me, Please~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: oral(m&f receiving), bit of a handjob, praise kink, spit kink, innocent reader but she’s lowkey in control, reader kinda gets bullied in the beginning but not directly. Not proofread.

{masterlist} • {PART TWO)

————

“She’s like their little sister,” you heard the kook girl you didn’t recognize laugh as she spoke about you, “She follows them around like a groupie, JJ most of all. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with what she has, I would be flirting non-stop if I was with him as much as she is. JJ is absolutely delicious.”

“I think they’ll always be just friends,” her equally annoying friend giggles, the pair clearly not noticing you behind them or simply not caring, “I mean look at how innocent she is, I doubt she would know how to please him if she had the chance. She has literally never had a boyfriend, she probably has never given head in her life and JJ gets around a lot he has plenty of better options. Hell he probably doesn’t pay enough attention to even notice her raging crush on him anyway. You should definitely go for it tonight, I’ve heard he’s good.”

You huffed, stomping off back towards the couch you had left JJ on. What annoyed you the most wasn’t the shit talking, you knew people talked, especially kooks who somehow had nothing better to do. What hurt was the accuracy. Despite being the same age as your fellow pogues, and knowing JJ and JB since the third grade, you were still very much innocent. Especially when compared to your ragtag group of friends.

You knew they didn’t mind, they all loved you no matter what. Kie helped you as much as she could but it was pointless, you just didn’t know how to be as laid back as them. You had fun and loved to party as much as they did, but you still preferred a nice night in with a movie. And while part of you used to worry you held them back, they made sure you knew you could always come to them. So when you saw JJ wave you back over with a questioning look in his eyes you knew you could ask him to help you with anything.

And your crush on him had totally and absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

“Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?” You blurt out, dropping onto the couch infront of JJ’s outstretched arm as though everything was normal. He gagged on the gulp of beer he’d just taken before looking to you with wide eyes, trying to decipher if he heard you properly.

“What’d you jus’ say?” His voice was breathless as he wiped his face of spilt beer, your eyes tracing the droplets that escaped down his neck.

“I want you to teach me how to give good head.” You stated, stretching the words to make your intentions clear. You watched JJ’s eyes bounce between your eyes and lips, the gears in his brain working overtime to decide if you were joking or not.

“Like- uh.” JJ starts, his voice strained while he needlessly wipes his mouth again, spreading his legs on the coach and making room for himself and letting his knee touch yours, “Like on what though.” He arches his eyebrow to look at you, not wanting to be presumptuous but wanting nothing more than to help you directly.

JJ would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like that a million times. He wanted you, he just never admitted it out loud because he thought you deserved better. He messed around and acted out while you and John B cleaned up after him but over the years he started to notice a distinct difference in his feelings for Jonh B compared to those he had for you. However, he decided long ago he wouldn’t act on any of them unless you did first, he couldn’t risk ruining you because you were just so good.

“On you Jay, come on don’t make me feel weird about it.” The whining tone of your voice makes JJ bite his lip, unsure if this was ethical. JB would surely frown upon this and Kie would probably kill him for corrupting you. But he was having a hard time fighting the urge now as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Well I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything, y’know?” He stutters over his words slightly as he fumbles to find anything to say, making you giggle in that way he loves so much. You had never once seen JJ flustered or worried about a girl asking to suck him off and you honestly couldn’t believe it was you who got that honor.

“But I asked you to show me JJ, I want you to teach me.” You beg him, turning your body on the couch to face him fully, placing a hand on his exposed bicep.

And his resolve snapped.

He tossed his half full beer can aside as he stood, not caring where it landed. His hand took your own hand, gently but assertively pulling you up with him. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to lose you while weaving through the crowd in the Chateau making the way to the bedroom he made his. You caught sight of the first kook girl in passing, noticing the way she tried to catch JJ’s eyes only to be ignored. Her face contorted in surprise and disgust while you laughed softly before JJ was yanking you into his room and locking the door behind you both.

“C’mere,” JJ instructed, waving two fingers towards him. When you turn to him he’s facing away from you, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and tossing it on the floor at his feet. The bed creeks from his weight flopping onto it, manspreading while watching your slightly shocked and confused face, unable to hide his smile. “Come on, y’wanna learn or not.”

Your legs carry you to him, anxiously messing with the hem of your dress now that you can make out the bulge in his shorts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice draws your gaze back to his and you can see the excitement whirling behind his blue eyes dropping you to your knees carefully, leaning into the comfort of his pillow.

“Thanks for the pillow,” You whisper, locking eyes with him from between his legs, “I didn’t know guys did that, I’ve never seen it in the porn I watch.”

“You watch porn?! Oh my god this keeps gettin’ better.” JJ groans with a smile, knocking his head back and letting you watch his adam’s apple bob, “I’ve never done it before, I just didn’t want you to bruise your knees.”

“Good to know I’m special.” You laugh awkwardly, wiggling with excited and nervous energy where you leant before him. He released an airy laugh above you, looking down at you again, his pupils dilated.

“You have no idea,” JJ’s voice was breathless and his words caught in his throat slightly, “Do you wanna get started on our lesson Princess?” JJ asked teasingly, running his fingers down your warm cheek, stopping to lift your head up by your chin. You nodded, shell shocked as you stare up at him unable to force your mouth to form words.

“I need you to tell me,” He whispered, leaning forward slowly until his lips ghost against yours, “If I’m going to finally corrupt you I need you to ask Cupcake.” Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in his scent as your heart rapped against your ribcage.

“I want you Jay….T-to teach me, please.” Your eyes flick open just in time to catch a wicked grin spread across his face before your cheeks were cupped in his warm palms, tugging your lips into his in a heated kiss. Your sighs mingle together, finally exploring what you both silently desired for so long. His tongue danced across your bottom lip asking for entrance as you gasped letting his tongue fight yours, forcing a moan from you that vibrated against his lips. He pulled away slowly, spit connecting you for a second before you’re licking your lips subconsciously. JJ observes your furrowed eyebrows and the redness flooding over your skin as your eyes stay closed in obvious pleasure.

“Still with me Gorgeous?” JJ asks, tapping your cheeks lightly, smiling excitedly as he watches you look up at him. His painfully hard erection rubbed against the zipper of his shorts as he adjusts his hips. Leaning back and resting his weight on his forearms, his crotch looming in front of you, your wide eyes telling him you have no clue how to start this. “Put your hands on my knees,” He instructs, shivering under your touch when you listen immediately, your cool hands resting against his steadily warming skin, “Good girl, now I want you to slowly move them up, like you’re not sure you want to take my pants off yet, tease me y’know?”

Your breath hitches at his praise, and he notices. You whimper as you try and follow his instructions drifting your hands across his broad thighs and letting your fingers tease under the fabric of his shorts, “You like being my good girl don’t you?” He asks, his voice teasing only slightly, his breathy voice making your thighs clench, rubbing them together desperate for friction.

“Yes, I do,” His eyes immediately catch onto the movement of your thighs, biting his lip while he watches you wiggle in front of him. He twitches in his shorts at the thought of you getting off to his pleasure, moaning loudly when he takes your hand in his pressing your palm directly into his bulge. Using his larger hand to move yours to perfectly cup around him and uses your palm moving it against his shaft as he swallows, desperately trying to collect himself.

“K-keep doing that until you’re ready,” He sighs, letting you continue at your own pace, moving his hand up to your hair to fix it, not wanting it to fall into your face as he watched your features for signs of distress, “When you want to unbuckle my belt and-“ He gasps cutting off his sentence when your fingers immediately jump to hastily undo his belt. Your shaking hands struggle for a few awkward seconds before you’re tugging his shorts down his thighs exposing his black boxers. JJ lifts his hips to let you discard his shorts fully, tossing them aside as you stare into his eyes triumphantly, “Good girl.”

Your wide smile as your hands tease their way back up his naked thighs just as he taught you has him reeling, practically shaking with excitement. “You like being praised, don’t you Mama?” He asks, tugging his lip between his teeth when your fingers find his cock again. He tugs your hand upward, moaning when he presses your hand into his tip, stopping your movements entirely until you respond.

“Yes Jay.” You whine, your tone impatient as you wiggle your hand under his, making him release a breathy moan laced with a laugh as he releases your hand, letting it continue it’s excited exploration of him. Your free hand started to sneak it’s way up his body, making him jolt forward as your cold hand found it’s way into his shirt.

“Who do you wanna learn this for?” JJ blurts out, not entirely wanting to hear the answer as he tugs his shirt over his head impatiently. Closing his eyes as your nails dig their way back down his chest, part of him wondering how you knew he’d like that.

“Myself.” JJ feels the smile grow back on his face, relief flooding his body as he opens his eyes, locking onto your wide gaze looking up to him expectantly. You want his instructions, and he wants to draw this out.

“So there’s no one in that precious mind of yours right now?” He asks, letting his eyes fall down your face, gazing at your wet lips before eyeing your cleavage and wiggling hips. Trying to suppress that part of him that wants you to stay here like this forever.

“Well,” You giggle, palming him through his boxers just over his tip, loving the way his head falls back with a moan when you apply more pressure, “Right now I have you on my mind Jay.”

“Fuck, you have no idea what that does to me,” He smiles towards the ceiling, imagining all the times he came in his hand to this exact scenario, “I thought you were too good for me, why’d ya ask me?”

“Some girls at the party were talking about me, calling me your groupie and saying I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you ever gave me the chance, and I really wanted a chance.” You sigh, drifting your hand down his toned abs to tease the elastic of his underwear, letting it snap against his skin as your excited eyes find his again.

“Oh Princess,” he cooed caressing your cheek, “You have always had the chance. You were the first girl I ever imagined doing this for me.” His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, almost backtracking before you interrupted him to speak.

“Good, because I can’t imagine anyone else teaching me, I trust you, I want it to be you.” You state simply, locking your eyes in his gaze and taking not of the hitch in his breath. In a spurt of confidence you’re tugging his boxers down his thighs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock as it bounces free, eyes meeting his again in a beg, “Tell me what to do Jay.”

“First give the tip a kiss Baby,” You do as your told, touching your lips against his hot, red tip as it leaks precum onto your lips, “Mmm, fuck now get your tongue nice and wet and lick up the middle, when it feels right slide my tip against your tongue n’suck on it like those Cherry suckers you’re always begin’ me for.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling more and more confident as you watch him come undone above you. “Is that what you want Jay? Or are you goin’ easy on me?”

“If you think you can take me in one go do it Princess, but don’t think I’m pressuring you,” He sighed, watching your tongue wet the side of his pulsing cock, “I want you to go at the pace you’re comfortable with.”

You smile up at him as you separate from him, letting spit coat your tongue before moving to lick up the prominent vein popping out of the other side of his cock. He groans above you, subconsciously moving his hips closer to your mouth in uncontrollable excitement. As your lips caress against his red, leaking tip you slowly let spit drip from your lips onto him, watching as it drips down him and pools in the bit of trimmed hair at his base. His eyes pop from his head when you bring your hand up to spread your saliva over him, pumping your hand slowly and twisting it like you’d seen in videos. You watched his furrowed eyebrows, buying yourself time to work up enough spit in your mouth to take him fully. His lips tug into his teeth as his hips stutter upward into your hand.

“Where did you learn to do that?” JJ gasps, stuttering and twitching in your wet hand.

“Porn.” Your sickly sweet voice has him moaning and tugging at your hair, forcing you’re eyes up to his.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He states before slamming his lips into yours, moving you back by your hair wrapped around his fist. You gape up at him wide mouthed, your hand speeding up when his eyes bounce between your open, drooling mouth and your blown out eyes as though asking for permission. You nod your head to him, not sure what he wanted to do but okay with it nonetheless. His free hand jumped to your chin, tugging your mouth open wider before leaning down and spitting directly onto your tongue. Rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you moan you shiver in front of him at the feeling of his spit mixing with yours, unknowingly helping you in your previous goal.

JJ chuckles at your reaction, moaning slightly when your hand speeds up again. You savior the feeling of his spit in your mouth for a second, your eyes latching onto his as you smile wickedly. JJ only takes a second’s pause before his eyed widen watching your mouth dip lower, his fingers subconsciously tightening in your hair, moving his other to grip the bed and ground himself. Breath fills your lungs from your nose, prepping yourself before teasing his tip with your tongue for only a second before you slowly slide him into your mouth. His hips jolt forward subconsciously, shuddering breathlessly when your eyes meet his over your lashes again. JJ curses under his breath, watching you take almost every inch of him in one go, sliding your head down his shaft, resting your hand at his base when you can’t fit anymore.

JJ moans loudly when you swallow around him, jerking his hips into you desperately trying to control himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cut him off quickly, shoving your head as far down as you can go, feeling his tip twitching in the back of your throat as you gag around him. You pop your head up, dragging your tongue against the underside of his shaft, moaning at his taste and sending vibrations through him. You suckle on his tip, preparing yourself as you gasp for breath around him. You start to bob your head up and down him, swirling your tongue as you go dropping low enough to feel his pubes tickle your cheeks, his hands moving to the back of your head to tug your hair into his fingers.

“You’re a natural,” JJ sighs, “Feel like imma cum already Gorgeous, fuck.” Gazing up at him you watch his eyes try and stay open, try to maintain eye contact until they flutter shut when the tip of your tongue grazes his ballsack unintentionally. JJ subconsciously pushes your head down, pulling a moan from you as he groans into his bitten lip, hooded eyes watching you intently now as he tugs you off of him with a pop. His hand stays in your hair, his eyes watching the way your spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your lipstick and contrasting the black mascara running down you cheeks.

“I want you to try something, but only if you’re comfortable okay?” You nod to him desperately, ignoring the fact that your hair’s probably a mess in his hand, “Flatten out your tongue f’me,” His voice was demanding but soft still, a side of him you had never seen before beginning to come forward, “Yea, good girl just like that,” He says as he watches you stick your tongue out for him, spit dripping down the middle and directly onto is erect cock, “Now lean down and suck on my balls Sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide watching how he bobbed infront of your face. “If you don’t want to that-“

A shiver runs down his spine and directly into his rock hard cock when your warm tongue drags against his heavy sack before you suck one into your mouth, his hand tugs into your hair harder instinctively as he shudders. His shaft twitches against your face, your tongue swirlly against his salty flesh, tugging off him with a pop. You look up to him, makeup dyed spit dripping off your chin and down your chest, “Like that?”

“Yes yes just like that,” He gasps, desperation laced in his tone, immediately making you drop your head back. Sucking his other tight ball into your mouth, swirling your tongue while he shakes you slowly move your hand that was supporting your weight on his knee under your dress, circling your clothed clit with two fingers. Moaning around him as your eyes flutter shut feeling the wet patch seeping through your underwear.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” JJ growls when he catches your hands movement, his hand caress your face gently contrasting his hard tone. Despite wanting to listen your eyes stay shut as you speed up your fingers movement, “Thought you said you liked being a good girl, now listen to me.”

Letting your eyes flicker open you feel your cheeks heating up even more when you catch his gaze. His blue eyes only egg you on further, your fingers speeding up subconsciously while he stares at you with a smile. Breathing through your nose you continue your mouths exploration of him, popping your mouth off of his flesh only to immediately suck his tip into your mouth again. JJ’s hand tugs your hair into a ponytail as you bob your mouth on him, his tip hitting your throat each time making you gag and moan on him. The vibrations of your noises make his hips jolt uncontrollably, his body and dick twitching together as your spit pools on his groin and slips down his thighs.

He releases a loud needy groan when you force your mouth off him, his hand falling from your hair and clutching the blanket below him, mumbling incoherently while trying to ask why you stopped. He whines loudly gasping and gripping the bed so hard his knuckles turn white when you drag your wet tongue from the middle of his ballsack directly to his tip. Moaning when he twitched against your face, sucking him into your mouth while you eye his adam’s apple bobbing. Sensing he was close you stop your fingers with a whine around him, moving in order to move your hands to support yourself on his knees as you suck your cheeks in. You drag your mouth down his shaft and JJ whimpers, shoving his hand into your hair and tugging as he cums down your throat, filling your mouth as you moan.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, do you need’ta spit?” He asks, trying to ignore the tingle running down his spine at the sight of his cum dribbling past your lips.

“It’s okay,” You state simply licking your lips clean, the sweet tone in your voice not changing despite the more than inappropriate circumstances, “Your cum tastes so good Jay, look I swallowed it already.” You stick your tongue out to him, showing what little residue remains as he groans above you again.

“If you need anymore lessons, you can always, and i mean always, come to Papa Jay.” His breathless voice makes you laugh as you hop up to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna take my virginity too.” The burst of confidence making him cum gave you almost wears off at the look of shock that grows onto JJ’s face.

“Damn Mama, you are so fucking bold tonight, you have no clue how many times I have imagined you asking me that.” He smiles at you, his large ring clad hand gripping your thigh as it sits beside him, “Wanna tell me how long you have been fantasizing about your best friend poppin’ your cherry?”

“Forever.”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I wanted to hear.” JJ groans, pulling your thighs apart and shoving you backwards letting your dress ride up. He rolls over you, settling over you where you lay on his bed, framing your face with his arms. “I think it’s your turn right now though don’t you?” Shivers run down your spine at his tone, subconsciously trying to rub your thighs together earning a teasing laugh from JJ. You brace yourself on his waste, tugging him closer to you as his lips crash into yours, tongues immediately starting to fight for dominance only for him to win with a groan.

“We should save your first time until there’s not a dozen people right outside the door.” Lowering his voice to a whisper as he lightly digs his hips into you, “And I think we need to have a conversation before we….move forward.” Letting his lips graze your neck as he keeps going he smiles at your gasps of appreciation, “But don’t think I don’t really, really want to right now.”

JJ’s teeth tug at the spaghetti strap string of your dress as he crawls lower down your body, letting it snap back against your skin with a sigh, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so perfect I can’t even look at you sometimes.” The warm feeling of his tongue against your collar bone has you bucking against him desperately, hissing when his teeth nip at the exposed flesh of your breast.

“I love when you wear this dress,” JJ moans against your skin, his head falling low enough to push his face into your chest for a few seconds, wiggling it around dramatically, making you laugh before be continues his decent, “I don’t wanna take it off.” He groans, biting at your flesh through the fabric.

“Then don’t.” You say breathlessly, smiling down to him as you tangle your fingers into his hair. He smiles back to you, quickly pushing himself down the bed the rest of the way so he was face to face with your exposed thighs. With a quick flick of his wrists he flips the hem of your dress up, exposing your damp matching underwear.

“You matched your underwear to your outfit? That’s so cute.” JJ groans, dipping his head to bite at the flesh of your thigh as his hands slowly work their way up your thighs. He pulls back, watching intently as he slips his fingers past the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down as you lift your hips to help. You watch him as he tosses your underwear behind him, his eyes meeting yours for a second seeking consent as he shoves your thighs further apart, putting you completely on display for him. JJ licks his lips as he eyes you, moving his hands slowly under and around your thighs resting them on his shoulders before shoving your hips down with his large palms. He groans loudly as he bites into the flesh of your thigh beside him, slowly licking his way to your center and leaving a wet trail behind.

His hands hold your hips down hard as they jolt upward with your moan and laughs into you happily. Eyeing the way your head falls back, your chest rising and fallen he quickly speeds up his tongues pursuit of your clit. Watching you as one hand hangs above your head and the other plays with his hair, JJ can’t think of anything that looks better.

“Oh my god,” You yell, the feeling of his tongue flattening against you, slowly licking back and forth over your clit before quickly sucking it into his mouth. You scream a moan at the sensation, tugging at JJ’s hair aggressively not caring if anyone outside the door can hear your pleasure. “Do that again Jay.” JJ’s lips pop off of you into a smile, his lips glistening with your release before he drops his head back into you. Flicking his tongue aggressively against you as he licks up your slit, groaning at the feeling of your nails against his scalp when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. JJ can feel himself growing hard against the blanket at your taste, your shaking legs egging him on as your release quickly approaches.

The feeling of JJ’s tongue prodding at your entrance as you clench on nothing has the tightening feeling in your abdomen worsening, making you whine and wiggle your hips subconsciously. The grip of JJ’s hands on your hip tightens, his nails digging into your flesh as he grinds himself into the mattress at your excitement. He plunges his tongue into you, collecting your juices on his tongue with a desperate groan, his eyes flickering shut as he moves to flick his tongue against your puffy clit again. JJ pulls back quickly making you whine and tug at his hair, trying to shove him back into you and forcing a wicked laugh from him as he spits directly onto you and dives back in. You shudder when he starts to lap against you wildly, your hips jolting and your back arching, your hands tugs on his hair harder as you cum, the almost painful band in your abdomen breaking in a euphoric release. Moaning so loudly you know for sure anyone close enough to the door could hear but you didn’t care as you came undone on your best friend’s tongue, breath shaking as your body twitches.

JJ’s tongue slows, pushing himself up to get a better look at your post orgasm face, your eyes unfocused and your mouth open in gasping breaths. He slowly crawls up your body, smiling in your face and you smile back at him the best your can, he groans at the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your hair sticking to your forehead as he smash his lips into you. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as you both moan into each other.

——————

I might wanna do a part 2 of this for their first time, would anyone be interested in that?

PART TWO: Another Lesson?

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[diushek]

One day, Shen Qingqiu comes from the city with a little baby in his arms. He says: "His mother died during childbirth and I am taking care of him." He names the child Shen Yuan when he is old enough to give him a name, and the child grows up in Qing Jing.

Everyone, absolutely everyone, believes that Shen Qingqiu is the biological father of that child. Only have to LOOK at them both and see the resemblance: the same eyes, the same hair, the same facial structure, the same lips, even the same angry pout. Rumors - Shen Qingqiu had a child with a prostitute who died and now he is taking care of him!! - are open secrets.

Shen Qingqiu, as usual, ignores them. He cares for his little one, raising him with the closest thing other Peak Lords can call love. Impeccable robes, the best meals, the best early education. Shen Yuan grows up as a polite, gentle, kind-hearted, sweet-faced child. He frees insects before killing them, isn't afraid to dirty his robes if he must go after someone, and has an avid interest in beasts and monsters beyond comprehension. The Peak Lords jokingly think: this child has taken his father's face and surely the good heart of his mother, may she rest in peace.

When he comes of age, he doesn't even have to dig a hole to be chosen for Qing Jing Peak - everyone knows that Shen Qingqiu has already made a place for him there. However, Shen Yuan insists on doing it on his own! He wants to earn his place. The Peak Lords respect him for it, and there are various interests, but he still ends up in Qing Jing Peak.

And Shen Yuan becomes Shen Qingqiu's clear first disciple. He is a skilled scholar, excellent martial artist who is not afraid to tear someone rude with foul words, but with an almost natural disposition to be kind, sweet and gentle with those who deserve and require it.

It is then that Luo Binghe arrives at Qing Jing Peak.

The Peak Lords hear of the rumors and they spread them like pollen in spring: apparently there has been a HUGE discussion between Shen Qingqiu and his spoiled son! Something involving a child with water burns, a beating, and a woodshed. No one understands what happened, but a day later, Shen Yuan completely disappeared from the Cang Qiong Sect.

And he has taken a young disciple with him.

Shen Qingqiu begins to act as if he never had a son - as if his whole life has been all about him, hostile and unpleasant. His mood is worse than ever and his cruelty is undeniable. No one understands what has happened between father and son, but these are rumors that even if whispered, bring the very bad faces of Shen Qingqiu. And no one wants to be behind Shen Qingqiu's wrath when it is unleashed.

(Shen Yuan had transmigrated. Into a baby! Into Shen Qingqiu's son! Yes, indeed his memories had been gradually unlocked, thank god. It would have been so weird to be a baby with the mindset of an adult... And he had believed, for a long time, that perhaps Shen Qingqiu could change. That loving him and caring for him would make him better when Luo Binghe reached Cang Qiong.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

So, Shen Qingqiu can hate him for this reason if he wants! But Shen Yuan has to leave there and take Luo Binghe with him. He will teach him cultivation and do everything to make him become a powerful cultivator before his demonic seal is unleashed, he will do everything possible to prevent him from the Endless Abyss, and will prevent Shen Qingqiu from being turned into a human stick.

Probably, a single night of punishment and humiliation wasn’t enough for Luo Binghe to want revenge so hard. Actually?? He just would save the lives of all his martial uncles and his father in the process to kindly educate Luo Binghe and make him as powerful yet happy as possible. They should thank him!! He's sacrificing himself, his comforts, and his reputation to save everyone's asses!!!)

...

(Although Shang Qinghua had wanted to give Shen Qingqiu a son - a magical pollen pregnancy between Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu, which Shen Qingqiu would NEVER tell Yue Qingyuan was his child until the very last moment - for the drama and secondary revenge and angst 7/9, that had been a damn draft!!! He didn't even get to develop the background of Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu!!! And now that son ran away with his Protagonist!? System, what's going on!? Why do HE make sure the Endless Abyss arc be completed!? He doesn't even fucking know where the protagonist is!!! System have mercy on AND HELP!!!)

[hoshifighting]

how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues

WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3

a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it

seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.

jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.

joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”

junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.

hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.

woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.

wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.

minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.

mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”

seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”

seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b

vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.

chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.