#it's almost like i put in the work when i'm doing something i care about..
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Overprotect
warning: none
characters: jude x mom!reader
summary: when you are in the last months of pregnancy and he is being super protective and worried about everything
may contain spelling and translation errors!
You sighed heavily, sinking on the sofa in the living room with an exhausted expression. The eighth month of pregnancy was being cruel - your back hurt all the time, the heat seemed unbearable and finding a comfortable sleeping position was practically impossible. To make matters worse, Jude was more overprotective than ever.
-Darling, do you need anything? His voice echoed from the kitchen, worried as always.
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to convince yourself that answering "no" would be enough for him to stop treating you as if you were made of glass. But the truth was that you really needed something.
—Water, please.
You asked, defeated.
In less than a minute, Jude was already at the room with a glass in his hand.
-Here, babe.
He said, handing over the glass and sitting next to him on the couch.
You took a sip and sighed, feeling a little relief in your dry throat. Jude, on the other hand, didn't seem satisfied.
-Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to do a massage? Or maybe a hot shower? Or...
-Jude. -You raised a hand, interrupting the flood of suggestions. -I'm pregnant, not sick.
He sighed, clearly trying to control himself.
-I know. But it's just that... I hate to see you uncomfortable and not being able to do anything.
You looked at him, your expression softening.
-You already do a lot, babe. You take care of me more than I could ask for.
He smiled small, but still looked restless. Then, without warning, he got up and took a cushion, fixing it behind your back.
-Better?
You laughed, shaking your head.
-Yes, better.
He didn't stop there. He took another cushion and put it on her lap, helping you to better accommodate your belly.
-And now?
You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave that you were loving his care.
-Now it's perfect, Mr. Bellingham.
Jude settled on the couch, passing an arm around your shoulders and letting the other hand rest on your belly.
-You're already almost nine months... -He murmured, sliding his fingers lightly over the skin of your belly. -There's so little time for our baby to arrive.
You felt your heart tighten when you saw the sparkle in his eyes. Jude was so excited to be a father, so ready. He talked about the baby every day, touched your belly as if it were your greatest treasure and looked at you with a mixture of love and gratitude that made you feel like the most special person in the world.
-Are you ready to be a father?
You asked softly.
He looked at you, surprised by the question.
-I don't think I'll ever feel ready, you know? But I want to. I want more than anything else.
Your gaze softened, and you ran your fingers through his jaw, feeling the thin beard that began to grow there.
-You're going to be an amazing father, Jude.
He smiled, lightly squeezing you waist.
-And you're going to be the best mother in the world, darling.
You opened your mouth to answer, but a hook on your back made you shrink.
-Oh...
Jude was on alert at the same time.
-What was it, Y/n?! Are you feeling something?!
You let out a frustrated moan.
-My back. They're killing me.
He didn't waste time.
-Come here. Sit on your side.
—Jude...
-C'mon, babe, sit here!
He insisted softly, already getting ready on the couch so that you could settle down there.
You, knowing that arguing would be useless, straightened up on your side, feeling his warm and firm hand begin to massage your back firmly, but without hurting you.
-Better now?
He asked, while his fingers worked to relieve the tension.
You closed your eyes, relaxing against his touch.
-Very much.
Jude smiled satisfied, continuing the movements while watching his wife surrender to relief.
-Do you have any idea how much I love you?
He murmured against your ear.
You smiled, your eyes still closed.
-I Have. And I have no idea how much you spoil me.
He laughed, gently kissing the back of your neck.
-I'll always pamper you. You and our baby.
You sighed, feeling safe in his arms. The eighth month of pregnancy could be difficult, but with Jude by your side, everything seemed a little easier.
#dorabellingham#jude bellingham#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham one shot#football fanfic#real madrid#football#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham x fem!reader#jude bellingham x reader#football x you#football x y/n#football x reader#jude bellingham soft#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham smut#jude bellingham imagines#judebellingham#jude victor willliam bellingham#jude bellingham x mom!reader#jb5 x fem!reader#jb5 x reader#jb22#jb5#judebellingham fanfic#fanfic#imagines#imagine#one shot
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What will Life in general be like with your Future Spouse?
Gender Neutral for Everyone!
1 -> 3 ♡
Tips are very much appreciated!! Love you guys!!♡
My Kofi (I plan to set up the rest of my services in shop soon!)
Cupid's Services
Cupid's Master-List
Hi loves! Happy 2025 🥳 I know I’m two months late and I’ve been gone for way longer than I had expected, but I’m so happy to be back!! I hope everyone’s new year is going amazing!
Pile 1- The World, King of Wands, Eight of Cups and, Strength.
Hi pile 1!
So right off the bat I feel like your person is such a character! They don't like to be bored, very adventurous and free spirited. If you're a home body I'm not sure if you'd like this about them, but if you're someone that also loves a good adventure I see you two being partners in crime! Everyday is something new really, I think even days when you're both just chilling in the house they like to make it fun, there's always laughter in y'all's home.
So I see this being during a time in life together you're both financially stable, living together and the both of you just really love to live out your days to the fullest, enjoying life together, I hear you guys will always hear complaints from your friends and family how you're never around anymore because you're always on trips lol, living with this person is almost like a whole new world almost, you'll feel like nothing's impossible.
I feel like your person is very fiery, they like to charge through life with their head held high, very outspoken and would rather be a leader than a follower, they fight back, they're so loud too, they won't be ignored. You'll always see these things about them throughout life, you'll see how they love to take charge and stand ground, how they don't like to put up with anyone's bullshit.
I feel like for fun you two will do things kinda sketchy, like my cards show a person graffitiing on the wall, you two will do things for the adrenaline rush of not getting caught but even if you get caught that adds to the fun cause you'll just run away. This person could make you feel younger than you actually are, I just see lots of giggling and mischief, things you'd probably never even thought you'd do because you're like "nah I'm too reserved of a person" but this person will make you want to branch out of your comfort zone, they'll help you through every high and every low, they'll be your strength when you have none.
I feel like if you're someone that's like me and ALWAYS bored, you'll love this person because they're like how could you ever be bored of me? Even conversations with this person are crazy and wild because I don't really think they care for a filter, they seem to not really fear anything in life lol I love their energy, they'll totally rub off on you some of their fiery ways too, they like to see you strong and in your power.
I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡
-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Pile 2- Seven of Cups, Temperance, Nine of Cups and, Three of Swords.
Hi pile 2!!
So your future spouse and you will like to plan, I see you guys discussing everything first before you actually do it. You guys just might like feeling secure and safe, planning for the long run, but also being like "okay, so, what's for dinner tomorrow? Do I need to go to the store tomorrow morning?" That kinda energy in almost everything. You guys also like planning your alone time, you might be busy people so I see you two sitting down discussing your little get away from everyone and life temporarily.
Funny enough with the Temperance card here I think this person also likes to go with the flow, maybe this person loves days when you're both free from work or your schedule for long periods of time and can finally focus on each other.
I think during days like those your person will just love making their days about you, they feel kind of clingy and quality time is their love language tbh, they don't really care what you guys do as long as they're with you, they could just sit in silence with you. This person loves focusing on healing the both of you daily, they're really into health and fitness I think but also mental health as well, they're the type to make you a random snack when they've noticed you've skipped breakfast or haven't eaten in awhile, I think they really love taking care of themselves but you as well!
I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡
-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Pile 3- The World, Eight of Swords, The High Priestess, and Six of Coins.
Hi pile 3!
So starting off with The World card I have a very big feeling this is a very free flowing and creative pile! Maybe you do something creative for work, an influence online or something along the lines of that, or your future spouse could be! There’s a vibe here that you and your spouse might like to travel a lot, I feel like your life is a little less planned out, for example you guys might do lots of things out of the blue, random dates, going out shopping together but getting distracted and deciding to go out on a little dinner date at a new restaurant you two stumbled upon while shopping, that kind of unplanned/spontaneous energy.
I feel like your spouse is someone very supportive with the Eight of Swords here, I think in the future together you and your spouse will like to keep things light hearted, I’m hearing in the world we live in these days you and your spouse will try to not like this world break the two of you apart, change your character or value. You guys feel like a very positive couple, the kind to go donate to Charity, volunteer ect etc. Your spouse also likes to take of you! They’ll also be the shoulder you can cry on, they’ll want to make life easier for you too in this world we live in!
Your spouse will honor you, they’ll think and respect your home like a Kingdom, they’ll honor you and the ground you walk on, everyday! From the moment you open your eyes in bed, they’re the type to wake you up with breakfast in bed, except they’ll let you sleep in while they’ve been up for awhile cooking for you. So sweet! A real partnership💕
With the Six of Coins here I think your spouse might be wealthy or is destined for wealth, your spouse wants you to live a life with them where they can pamper you! If you want to be a stay at home parent they’ll support that (if not that’s okay too, they’ll support you working as well!) they’re just like that! They’ll support anything you do! I think this person wants to be so wealthy that they can make money in their sleep and can relax on vacation with you!
I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡
- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.
#pac love reading#pac tarot#pick a card#spirituality#tarot#tarot cards#tarot reading#tarot messages#tarot love reading#tarot blog#god#pick a pile#fs pac#fs tarot#fs reading
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This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.
But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.
(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)
It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)
+++
Pick up, idiot.
Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.
Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.
Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.
Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.
It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.
His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.
Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -
"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.
"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"
"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"
"Donovan."
Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.
"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."
"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.
"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"
Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -
"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."
Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."
There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.
"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."
Fuck.
"Evan-"
"So we're back to Evan?"
"Bu-"
"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."
"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."
Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.
Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.
"Can we talk in person?"
"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"
"Of course. Do you want me to text-"
"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.
"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."
Tommy huffed a laugh.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"
"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"
"Don."
Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."
"I don't like you," Tommy groused.
And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."
Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.
"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."
"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"
That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.
It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.
"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"
"Shut up."
Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.
"Noon, you said?"
He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)
#tevan#bucktommy#rockon#tommy kinard#donovan rocker#evan buck buckley#evan buckley#deacon kay#ficlet#prompt#swat fanfic#911 fanfic
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LINEAGE
My son Braden brought in a couple of beers - I'd been cutting back and was on a fitness kick, but this felt like a special occasion. But as he set them down on the side table he knelt down in front of the couch, his thick muscle filling out his black T-shirt and jeans.
I had a good idea what was going to happen. "Um, Brade... this is supposed to be YOUR homecoming," I said.
My son looked up at me. He had a killer smile, and some gorgeous looks he'd partly inherited from his mother, fair haired, ruddy complected, cute dimples. The square jaw, roman nose, and brown eyes were mine, though.
"It is, Dad," he said. God, somehow his voice had gotten deeper during his deployment. "I've been thinking about this for months." His hands reached forward and undid my belt then the button of my khakis.
"You sure, buddy?" I asked. We'd moved past the furtive, guilty phase, but this was incest, and I was always looking for a way to put the breaks on things with Braden.
"Sure, I'm sure, Dad." His fingers skill fully peeled down my briefs and pulled out my growing dong. I topped out at 7 and a half inches, and very thick. Braden had almost a carbon copy of my dick, just a smidge shorter, only I'd left his foreskin on. But he wasn't concerned about pulling out his own meat. Instead, he examined my heft and pulled it toward him. "Sit back and let me take care of you."
And like that my hunky Marine son started to give me a slow, loving blowjob.
***
I've made mistakes in life, God knows, but Braden wasn't one of them. Even if he was the result an unplanned pregnancy - wouldn't you know... my swimmers did the job the first time I got laid at 16. I did the right thing in marrying Susan, and we were a good team, at first. Me working full time even as I got my econ degree in college. And me somehow fitting in my CFA studying in between work and child care.
Susan and I made it work, until it didn't. There was no love and no sex, just a partnership in raising our kid. Braden was 8 when we divorced. The only bad part was seeing my son go through that, and visiting with him only on custody weekends and holidays.
He rebelled in his teen years. Brade was good at sports, or more accurate to say that's all he cared about. He refused to take school seriously, and the more I got on his case the more he actively resisted doing homework. Susan, god bless her, tried everything from punishment to incentives, but Braden was a solid C kid who failed sophomore English and had to do summer school.
I was pissed as hell and tried to give him a tough love lecture. Tell him he was going to fuck up his future if he didn't take school seriously. That was the first and last time Braden talked back to me. Calling me a dumb prick and a controlling asshole who wanted to be a parent only when I was in the mood to be. I was enraged, but I held it in.
After that, it was like something shifted. Brade never became a star student, but he apologized to me. He opened up about his emotions, and we talked through them. I assured him I'd be better about being there for him. I could be a workaholic and that was my way of dealing with divorce and realizing I was mostly gay. I finally told Braden that his dad was a homosexual and may at some point date another man. No time soon. I wasn't sure what I expected but my surly jock son clasped in me in a tight hug. "Me, too, Dad," he said. When he pulled back he was tearing up some. "I haven't told anyone," he said. "Don't have the guts."
That was an emotional connection with my son that I wasn't expecting.
I still had a demanding job but I made an effort to see all of Brade's football games and to catch some of his practices too. And then, in Spring, catching wrestling meets.
I'd been frustrated that my son was growing into a man very much the opposite of me. Then I came to love him for who he was. Custody visits stopped feeling like an obligation for him, and something he looked forward to.
Our first kiss just happened. Maybe there was a little sexual tension there, but Braden and I were hanging out and eye contact grew and a spark happened between us. I leaned in just a little. Braden leaned in the rest of the way. He was nervous, and so was I. But our lust took over. The forbidden aspect made us insanely horned for each other.
We made out and groped each other and stripped our clothes off. Right there in the living room, Braden made a beeline for my hard cock.
"God, I've dreamed of this, Dad," he whispered as he wrapped his fingers around the base and pulled it to his lips. "So much."
"Buddy...!" I urged in a tone that let him know he didn't have to do this. But that I wanted it.
It felt great. That was an understatement. It was the mind fuck of incest and the fantasy of seeing my jock son service me - all come to life. I wasn't Brade's first cock, I could tell, but he was still green. Innocent in his way.
I warned him I was about to cum. He sucked harder and moaned. I watched my hunky son take my load and swallow every drop.
I could taste my cum in our kiss when he finally pulled off and I gripped his neck to pull him in toward me.
"Let me do you, Sport," I urged. I was very much in the receiving is better than giving category when it came to sex, and it turns out there was a good supply of men on Grindr who were happy with that arrangement. But Brade deserved some recip head from his Dad.
That dick was a challenge, and I blushed at how much easier Braden had sucked my big cock than I was doing him. But it didn't matter. I loved the taste of him and the knowledge I had my own son's dick in my mouth. Pushing into my throat with each bob.
Brade went wild. He came buckets. I did my best.
As I finally pulled off and licked around his foreskin the best I could without overstimulating him, I heard him say simply and softly. "Thank you, Dad."
***
I took Braden's cherry the night before he shipped out to Basic Training. He didn't ask me to, and I didn't ask him if he wanted it. I just started rimming him, licking and feasting on his nearly hairless hole before I reached for the lube. As I locked eyes on him and slid one finger in and out, then two, then three, I knew Brade was ready. I wanted him so bad just then, but more than that I wanted to connect with him in the most intimate way before he went away.
Lord knows I'd lectured him about using protection. Even if Braden was the light of my life, I didn't want him facing an early pregnancy like I did as a teen. So I sheathed up my thick piece of dad meat before I slowly entered him.
I could tell it stung, maybe a lot, but Brade was a trooper. Holding on to me. Feeling up the chest muscle he loved. Focusing on the act he'd dreamed of. Pretty soon, he was feeling it, the pleasure of bottoming. It's something I'd tried only a couple of times before I realized I enjoyed topping a lot more. But Braden was getting very into it. His insides opened for me and his whole body seemed to receive the fuck, his thick athletic legs pulled back, his angelic face pleading with me as much as his deepening jock voice. "Fuck me, Dad!" he said aloud into private space of the master bedroom.
My hips began pumping for real. I'd never been so hard or so much in a sexual frenzy. I wanted this first time to last, but I knew it couldn't, not with how worked up I was and how quickly Braden was approaching orgasm. His 7-incher throbbed and jutted off his crunched abs, leaking like crazy, then quivering like his voice.
"Dad!" he hissed, his eyes widening in disbelief. I was gonna get my Brade across the finish line to a hands-free cum.
I powered the last strokes with that goal.
My son's grip on my body grew tighter, an eagle talon's grip, and his voice climbed to a high whimper.
It was a glorious sight watching that teen cock shoot unaided, all over his body. I could smell the fresh scent of sperm and see the light of the lamp make the white splotches stand out more on his still largely smooth body.
I'm the kind of guy who can't cum with a condom on. But I came inside one while I fucked my son. The sensation and physical thrill was incredible, but mostly it was the idea that Braden was fully a man now.
He loved watching me nut, and I could see a big smile sweep across his face, and a laugh came out of him. He was riding some major sex endorphins, too.
"Way to go, Dad!" he enthusiasm.
"Buddy..." I started. "Goddamn..." I reached down and held on to the rubber as I extracted my dick from my son's ass. No longer vice tight I thought lewdly as I watched my condom-sheathed head clear the breach, a heavy reservoir of cum at the end. Fucking Brade had inspired one of my healthier cum loads.
My son's eyes were on that bulbous tip. "Let me drink that, at least," he urged.
Jesus.
I nodded and scooted up in the bed, waving my still turgid dick in front of him. "Serve yourself, Sport."
His fingers peeled at the rubber and gingerly tugged it off. He brought it to his lips and up ended, taking the semen into his mouth like a shooter. Braden moaned excitedly as he swirled my cum in his mouth before swallowing it. That alone was enough to keep me rock hard.
Wide eyed, my son then discarded the spent condom and then turned back to take me into his mouth.
"You're too good to me, Sport," I hissed.
***
I told myself it was sex. Fooling around of the naughtiest kind. My own goddamn kid. The only thing that kept me from feeling completely guilty is that Braden wanted sex even more than I did. Anytime he came home we found ways to get it on nonstop. Long slow sessions at night. Him giving me road head. Us sneaking into a bathroom stall for a quickie. I got a big box of Trojans and learned to carry a couple on me at all times.
We had our first date night. And the next homecoming our first argument. We were still the odd couple, and Braden resented when I asked him what he wanted to do with his life after the Marines.
"You're just mad I didn't clear enlisting with you first," he said bitterly.
"Come on, Brade," he said. But he was right.
I was in the doghouse the next couple of nights, sleeping on the couch. Part of me resented the fact I was exiled from my bedroom, but the fact I considered it mine instead of ours - after all the ways Braden had given his body to me, after all the pleasure we'd had together - was part of the problem.
I apologized. A real apology, not a Bill half-assed apology. I told him I was in love with him.
My big tough Marine son melted at that. He got off of the kitchen stool and met me in a bear hug. "God, Dad. I love you so much. For real." My son didn't show emotion a lot but he was better at it than me. I hugged back.
Then we kissed. A real lover's kiss. A boyfriend's kiss. Soft, sensual. I didn't want that kiss to end, but it did.
"I'm gonna miss you bad, tough guy," I said, running my fingers along his square jaw.
"I'll miss you, too, Dad," Braden said. "A lot." His hand reached down to cup my crotch. I hardened up under his touch.
He gave a soft laugh. "You must think I'm some kind of nympho."
"I think you're perfect, son." I ran my fingers along his T-shirt, eager to feel the hard flesh beneath. "And I'm grateful for every way you make me happy."
Brade smiled but just took in the words. He looked down at my sweats, which were filling out big time with dad meat, getting harder by the second. "I'd so love to suck you off right now, Dad."
"Why don't you?" I asked, my voice croaking. I was getting very turned on now.
Braden's brown eyes looked up into mine. "Cause it's been three goddamn days since you're fucked me, that's why."
We kissed, harder this time, and began stripping one another. I wanted this to be romantic, a slow screw in the master king-sized bed I'd been exiled from. Braden wanted to be bent over the kitchen table and taken like a whore with just a little cooking oil for lube.
We did it Brade's way.
It was hot, crazy hot, and we'd gotten carried away. In my mind I knew we were fucking without protection. And given how much in heat my Marine son was, there was a good chance he was ovulating. But it felt so good being inside him raw. Intimate with my boy like this. My big hunky, muscled boy, taking my dick and asking for more. Calling me Dad as I railed him.
My Dad brain won out. I pulled out just before I came. I only had to give two tugs and I was firing out one of my biggest loads, all over his muscled back. Brade tried to wiggle his way back onto my but I held him apart. My son was definitely in full fertile heat.
I pulled him up and kissed his neck as he went for his cum, my own semen cementing his back to my chest as I growled how fucking hot incest was. How I wanted to fuck my son every single day. I got a little rough in my fantasy talk. Not only did Braden not mind, the scenario I was describing got him to shoot big. I loved feeling him orgasm as I held his body. Not seeing his face but knowing the intensity of his cum from the way his muscle tensed and shook.
We came down from the sex high and laughed at how carried away we'd gotten. I patted his chest and nuzzled my face against him. "All right young man," I said in a voice that was playful even as I meant every word. "You're going on the pill."
***
It was super hard to see him go off again. He had another year on his enlistment contract. I stayed off Grindr and all the apps. No hookups, no dates. Partly it was my desire to be faithful and monogamous with my son. None could compare to my Branden anyway.
My son made a show of pulling out his birth control pills when he was home next, setting him on the counter.
"I've been taking them, Dad," he said proudly.
I laughed, stepping up to him. "You didn't think I'd trust you?"
He shook his head in a way that maybe I didn't trust him enough. "You know I'm crazy about you, sir, but you got some control issues."
"Just wait till you're a father," I said.
Brade got a serious look on his face. "You won't let me be one." His hand was now reaching down to cup my crotch. I'd learned to go commando whenever Braden was home, with just some shorts or sweats that could come off easily. So my son was now feeling a very hard piece of dad dick through some flimsy gym shorts.
My heart pounded. It had never occurred to me that Braden would want to get pregnant, especially that he'd want to be knocked up with MY kid.
"You think about that, buddy?" I asked, looking into his hunky-adorable face and his soulful brown eyes. God, I was so crushed out on my own son.
"All the fuckin' time, Dad," he replied. His fingers now slipped beneath the elastic band of my shorts to make contact with my hardon. The touch of his fingers was electric.
He looked down briefly then back up at me. "I know you're gonna lecture me about responsibility and being ready for parenthood."
"Probably, yeah," I replied. This idea was so crazy, and I needed to put the breaks on it. But my dick sure liked it. And Braden could tell.
"You like the idea, though," he said. He was now frigging my dick as our eyes locked.
"I almost didn't pull out before..." I said with a croak in my voice, getting majorly turned on. "When we barebacked."
Our kiss was intense. And I heard Brade undoing his jeans and could tell he was shucking them down as he moaned into my mouth. He was crazy turned on when he pulled back, breathing heavy. "I wish you hadn't," he said with a half apology, then turned around. Between high school sports and Marine conditioning and plenty of leg day time at the gym, Braden had an incredible ass. Round, meaty, mostly smooth except for a dusting of light brown hair that got thicker in the crack. I'm not a religious man, but some god had given me a gift.
Instantly, my hand was on his buns, feeling up that warm muscle.
"I lubed up, Dad," I heard his masculine voice say.
I ran my finger into his crevice. Even before I got to his pucker, I felt the telltale viscous stickiness. It would be our first time with petroleum jelly. Turns out it wouldn't be the last.
I scooted up. I craved to have more foreplay time with Brade, but this wasn't the time. I lined up my prick into the tacky gel and rubbed it around his hole with my cock head.
"You took your pill today?" I asked. I wanted confirmation before entering him bare. But I also wanted to hold onto that idea of knocking him up.
"Yessir," he hissed. He was backing up some, trying to get me into him. He wanted this.
I reached around and held his body. Even through the T-shirt Braden's chest was hard and warm.
"And if you hadn't... would you stop me from being inside you, like this?" God, I was getting carried away by the fantasy. Particularly as I pushed in, about a half inch of raw dad cock.
"No, sir," Braden replied. Then "Fuck yes!" as I breached him all the way. A homecoming fuck that felt more intense than the ones before. Almost more intense than taking his cherry.
It was awkward fucking standing up. I was a couple inches taller than Brade. But bent my knees a little, and Brade leaned over to brace himself on the wall as I pounded him.
"Love ya, Sport..." I said as I fucked faster and deeper. Maybe it was in my head, but Braden's ass had never felt so good.
"Love you, too, Dad. So fucking much." His voice was needy now.
The words were what I needed to hear as I pounded us both to a heavy climax.
It took me a minute of the afterglow to realize Brade was crying.
"What is, buddy?" I asked with concerned. Jesus, if I'd gone too hard on the boy, I wouldn't forgive myself.
I could hear a laugh come through. "Just happy is all.. fuck! Sorry..."
I pulled him back against me tighter. My dick had slipped out and it all felt very lewd now that the act was done with. It only added to the emotional roller coaster we were both on. "Nothing to be sorry about. Let it out, Sport.... Guess it's pretty intense dating your old man," I said empathetically.
Braden nodded. "Pretty much," he said. "It's fucked up, right?"
I thought for a second. I mean, objectively it was. And yet... "Inside this house, inside these walls, it's not fucked up, Brade. It's what's meant to be, OK?"
He turned and looked at me with an emotional openness that melted me. I wasn't good at this stuff. Relationship stuff, emotional stuff. But I knew I could assure my son in this moment.
We kissed. Softly, like boyfriends.
Then we cleaned up and talked, for hours.
***
Braden was done with the active duty part of his contract and was living with me. Full time, day in, day out. It took some getting used to. I maybe had a loner thing going on, and it was hard to shift from the Dad role to the boyfriend role. And the honeymoon period of homecoming sex quickly wore off.
It came to a head one evening. I had to work late, later than normal, even. Brade had a dinner ready for me and plated it for us.
I was still preoccupied with work, though I gave a quick thanks before digging in.
Braden picked at his food but was sulking. Finally, he set down his fork. "I guess workaholic Dad is back now," he grumbled.
I felt both chastised and pissed off. "Forgive me for making a living, Son."
"It's all you think about."
"That's not true," I said sternly.
Braden shook his head and went back to eating. Maybe he was right, but he was acting like a sullen teen again, goddamnit. And here I was the father who didn't know how quite to handle that.
I did make a point of thanking him again for the dinner and of doing the dishes. "Go kick back, Son," I urged in my best contrite voice. Braden didn't even reply but just got up and left the room. I guess it was silent treatment time.
I'd dried the last of the dished when Brade came in.
"Sorry, Dad," he said.
I turned toward him. "Oh buddy... it's me who should be sorry. You do all this work, and I come home late."
I set down the dish towel and stepped toward him. He was stepping up to me, too. Our mouths met, hungry. This was gonna be me and Brade's first time having make up sex.
"Bedroom?" I asked.
"Yeah, Dad."
We were like kids jumping into a lake, rapidly stripping off our clothes and hopping on to the bed we now shared. His body felt amazing. I mean it always did but I craved the contact now. My hunky 23 year old stud in bed with me, his hardon battling mine as I started to roll him over.
Only he stopped me. "Let me ride you, Dad. Please."
"Pretty please?" I teased.
"Pretty please, sir. I wanna ride your cock."
This was a fun change of pace, my lying back and having Braden lube up my thick cock before straddling me. The penetration was quick, too quick for my son, and he had to rise up before trying again. The second time was a charm and I watched my hunky stud sink down on my bone.
I pumped up into him, but position equally allowed Brade to use his hips to work up and down my dick. It was magnificent, like a slow steady milking motion.
"Fuck, Son... so good, buddy."
"Yeah?" he asked with a smile. "I want it to be so good for you, Dad."
"You have no idea, Sport."
That increased his determination to ride me up and down. "I took my pill today... but if I didn't..." he said with a lust-filled voice.
I grunted. The idea was hitting me hard. We'd indulged some of this talk, but it was coming back even harder than before. "I'd feel a fertile ass riding me," I answered.
Braden had to let go of his cock to keep from coming. "God, Dad... this turns you on too."
"Damn straight it does, Sport. Fucking you... knocking you up..."
Even without stroking, Brade was getting close to cumming. "It's my biggest fantasy, Dad. Having an incest baby with you."
That tripped my trigger before I expected. I was fucking up into my son, but it was the mental shock as much as the physical sensation making me shoot a heavy series of cum shots into my son's bowels.
I could sense Brade was imagining it fertilizing him. His voice quivered and his body flushed pink. And I watched his dick shoot out its thick cum as he bounced up and down hard onto my still spurting prick.
"FUCK!" he gasped.
I patted his thigh. This was intense sex, for sure, and I was starting to return to normal. "Yeah," I said.
Braden eased off and slid down next to me, meeting me in a hot kiss.
After we made out he lay his head on my chest. Like that night I took his cherry. Before he shipped off. Life has a way of coming full circle.
His voice now seemed tentative. "Dad... you know I wouldn't do that, right? Stop taking the pills without your permission?"
I patted his back muscle. "I know, buddy. It's just talk... something to get us going."
"Yeah," he said. "Only if you ever decided it was right..." he said softly.
"I know, buddy. We'll talk about it, OK?"
"OK."
***
Like moths to a flame, we couldn't avoid getting deeper into the pregnancy talk. It spiced up our time in the bedroom, then became our fixation during sex. No longer occasional, it became every single time that me and Brade talked about having kids. Me impregnating him, us imagining his body being transformed by our kid.
I occasionally opened the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom to check that Braden was still taking his pills. I felt bad that I didn't 100 percent trust him.
We tried to mix it up. Braden gave me more blow jobs. He became an expert at edging me, and that felt new and exciting.
My son and I found our rhythm as a couple. Braden got used to my long work hours, and I did my best to make weekends about us. Brade would the first to point out that I wasn't good at romance, but Sundays were Brade Day, when he'd choose what we'd do. I was a big saver when it came to money, but I learned to relax a little. For Brade Day, I'd buy tickets for to catch a baseball game or go see the nearby city football team's home game.
Sometimes for Brade Day, he'd choose to do something I wanted, which was usually playing golf. I'd object, but he insisted that relationships weren't one-way things.
That stuck with me. I'd run through it all in my head why Braden and I couldn't have kids, why we shouldn't have kids. Incest was one thing, but having a child together was another. And the practical side of my personality was persistent. I knew raising a kid would cost money. I had it, but I wasn't sure what job or career Braden had in mind for his future. If we'd be on the same page in our parenting.
OK, my idle thoughts were no longer idle.
It was fun surprising my son. It was Sunday morning, Brade Day, and it took him a while to notice. Even after his cup of coffee he was still groggy.
"Um, Dad," he asked as he walked back into the kitchen. "Have you seen my pills?"
I nodded, with my best poker face. "Yeah, Sport. I threw them in the trash."
He was processing what I was saying. "You're joking."
I shook my head. "Nope. You can feel free to fish them out, if you like."
"Oh fuck," he hissed.
This was like make up sex on steroids. Me and Braden embracing in a bear hug and then a hot kiss. Then fucking on the kitchen floor.
I'd have felt bad if we'd conceived our son like that, but even lost in my fantasy I knew it would be a couple of weeks until Braden was fertile.
But it was decided now: we were gonna have a kid together.
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Lmk au idea.
Wukong isn't MK's teacher. At least, not in the same way he is in the show.
In this idea I had randomly pop into my head I'm thinking that Wukong had gone above and beyond simply vanishing for 500 years and hiding out on FFM. He straight up changed his identity and went into hiding as a mortal. He says fuck off to being a demon god, fuck off to all the gods and celestials and all his titles. He retires, fully and completely, passing his crown off to his Stalwarts and just becomes a wanderer traveling around, doing odd jobs and never staying in one place too long.
At some point over the centuries he ends up back in the village that he left his staff in, or rather, whay it became. A sprawling metropolis of a city that a person trying to disappear can easily do so. He set up shop, having had many hats over the years he's able to easily pick up a humble job nobody would blink twice at. Mechanics are always sorely needed in large cities after all.
One day at his shop a hauntingly familiar fave appears at his doorstep. Pigsy's truck had broken down while he was out with baby MK on a supply run and Wukong's shop had been the closest mechanic they could find. Wukong could sense something was special about MK, but not what or why and after he fixed up the truck he spent the next hour or so reminding himself that he is not Sun Wukong anymore, he is not part of that life anymore. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wukong's mechanic work was something Pigsy liked, a lot. The truck was running smoother than if ever did before and the price was a steal! Wukong quickly became the favorite mechanic shop for Pigsy's Noodles and MK began to show up more often at the mechanic shop (he crashed a lot of stuff ok). Wukong ends up becoming the cool mechanic dude who helped teach MK how to mod his hoverboard and would often drop cryptic but helpful advice to the kid, Wukong having settled with the idea that he can look after the kid at least since it doesn't look like Zu Baijie's decendant or the kid were going to go away anytime soon. This led to meeting Tang and Mei, which were... experiences. And Wukong just ends up being a family friend to the Noodle Gang who likes cold vegetarian noodles.
Then a Hero is Born happens. Wukong hadn't been there for that experience. He was "on a supply run" when DBK was freed, he was in a different town entirely. So he wasnt physically present when MK became the Monkie Kid. It doesn't mean he wasn't completely uninvolved, though. Wukong isn't stupid, he knows DBK would eventually be freed, and he also knew it was possible someone else would pick up his staff. Afterall the staff had chosen him, not the other way around. It isn't unfeasable to imagine it'd pick another now that it's owner has put it down. Plus it isn't entirely impossible to imagine whoever it is would seek him out, he was the last known person to wield the Ruyi Jingu Bang after all.
He left a series of visions and astral projected recordings in his cave. The first being triggered should anyone breach his cave, the vision MK first sees when he enters Water Curtain Cave, only it doesn't stop at Wukong just running off. The projection speaks.
Wukong's recording. Looking as laid back and amused as can be: If you're seeing this, congrats! You got past my unstoppable barrier! Unfortunately I'm afraid that you won't be able to find me, as I would have been long gone from this place and am retired! So if your here for an autograph I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.
MK: WHAT!?
Wukong's recording, becoming serious and almost sad: If you are a friend, however. I want to say I'm sorry, but please don't go seeking me out. I am hanging up my crown and title as the Great Sage and the Monkey King, and I don't not wish to be disturbed. Over the centuries I've come to realize my whole life I've done nothing but hurt the people I care about, so... for everyone's sake... I'm disappearing so that I can't hurt anyone again. Ever. And if you find my staff, I'm sorry I can't be there to help you. But I'll give you a piece of advice I learned, believe in yourself. Even just a smidge can make all the difference.
MK is gobsmacked at the thought that Sun Wukong had just up and left like that, that he's been gone for a long time and won't be able to help. He decides if Wukong wasn't there to be a hero anymore, he'd do it for him. Just a smidge makes a difference, right?
And so the Monkie Kid becomes the Monkie Kid. Over the next season or so he struggles a lot with his powers, not having a proper mentor. See, unlike the rest of the Noodle Gang, since Wukong wasn't physically present when MK became the town hero he isn't ever explicitly told it's MK. MK literally just forgets to mention it to him, but he does his best to help where he can. Giving advice where he can.
Most everything else was done without his input, altho MK did find it weird that the Calabash seemed to think his mechanic friend was the Monkey King. It's the first hint he ever has that Wukong was not as he seemed, but he write it off as him simply thinking of Wukong as a mentor figure since he's always been supportive and gave helpful advice and the Calabash substituting the Monkey King for Wukong.
Even the Macaque episode was done mostly without his input, altho a certain black furred monkey was not happy that his attempt to lure Wukong out didn't work at all. Wukong had been busy with renovations to expand the shop at the time, thus where the "step into the strike" advice came from since MK had been helping Wukong with tearing down the wall.
The big reveal about Wukong being the Monkey King only happens during Revenge of the Spider Queen, when Wukong has no choice but to step in as the Monkey King. And believe me, he is absolutely not happy about the matter. He doesn't run away once everything is done and over, but it's very clear that he is upset by the way he avoids everyone and jsut sits curled up on the rooftop. When asked why he never told them, especially knowing MK was using his staff, he first points out MK had never explicitly told him about the whole Monkie Kid business so he had no reason to "know" anything about it. Then he jsut points to the destroyed city.
Wukong: This is what happens everytime the Monkey King appears. Destruction, death, and chaos. I didn't want to be that anymore.
This spun off from a convo on how Wukong likely felt abandoned by his mentor(s), beginning with Subodhi, the allies he made in Heaven before the war, Guanyin, and even Tripitaka when the monk passed.
Wukong, going by just "Wu", drifting along the centuries living a mortal life. Packs up and leaves whenever conflict or war breaks out, or when people start to get suspicious.
His number one rule? Never get attached. Never again...
He becomes a mechanic (a real "grease monkey" if you will). Although he loves medicine and herbalism, it simply has too many paper trails. Also cars are fun to tinker with and don't talk back most of the time. Less likely to make a connection.
He eventually returns to the village where he lay his Staff down for good. Just seemed right coming up to the 500 year anniversary of one of his biggest regrets. The village has since become a sprawling mega-city, open to humans and demons alike. There he plants his roots.
The biggest shock of his life comes when he sees his brothers faces and souls all over again. Three in new bodies, and one in the same. A certain fish demon had pretended he didnt recognise him, and Wu returned the courtesy - seems he wasn't the only one from the old days to retire.
He wonders if it was the right decision to settle in Megapolis...
Until the day Pigsy knocks on Wu's shop, breathless and carrying a wiggly baby human (?). His food truck had given up the ghost and the cook desperately needed repairs asap! Wu simply couldn't turn him away.
Through the conversation and the repair process, the wiggly baby maybe-human had stared at the monkey demon with absolute wonder. Wu isn't sure why until he overhears the cub blabble something into his father's ear.
MK: "Mon-ken." Pigsy, fond sigh: "No MK, that's not the Monkey King. He just looks like the drawing in your Baba's book." Wu, nearly drops the truck on himself: "Eh?" Pigsy, little embarassed: "Oh! Sorry. The piglet is convinced that you're the Monkey King. My partner researches mythology and stuff, and he fills the kid's head with all sorts of ideas." Wu, rolls out from under the truck with a cheeky smile: "It's no problem. You'd be surprised how often I get mistaken for him! Think its the fur." (*Wu shares a glance at MK, the baby human is still staring at him unconvinced. Wukong makes a unsubtle shush motion and winks - causing the little human to wiggle once more with joy. Pigsy sighs fondly once more, knowing that the boy will most definitely hold this moment dear throughout his childhood*)
With that one chance meeting, Wukong breaks his number one rule; Never get attached.
It's not his fault he fixed the truck so good that Pigsy became a loyal customer! And the pig demon began tipping him with free cold vegetarian noodles. And that the scholar at the shop and him started info-dumping together! And that the little human began seeing him as a beloved uncle...
Oh yeah. Wu is in too deep. Hopefully nothing too chaotic happens within the next few years or so >:3
You can say a certain monkey demon nearly had a heart attack when he learned that someone had finally taken up his Staff - and that it was his little buddy!! Also Sandy is back in the gang, so they can't pretend that they dont know each other for long.
Wu would *like* to step up and reveal himself as the Monkey King to MK - but he feels that would just make things so much worse. The kid's trust in him would shatter immediately. So it's better to leave his projections on FFM to do the physical training, and for Uncle Wu to provide him with much-needed emotional guidance.
Sharing this dm you sent in particular based on the "Macaque" episode cus it's a tasty piece of dialogue:
MK: "Is it really better to focus your power into every attack?" Wu: "Hm, that's a lonely way of thinking. And dangerous. Look at this hammer I use for example, it's strong but if I'm not careful an just bang away at metal, it'd hit hard but it'd cause more damage to myself and the people around me. But if I were to... step into the swing so to speak and not depend on the hammer but rather my own strength, it's easier to control and has less risk of hurting myself."
He had been doing renovations on the wall to expand his business at the time, thus why he was banging at the wall with a hammer.
Eventually the episode ends with Macaque calling desperately out to the battlefield - almost begging for his king to reappear. The shadow monkey is so occupied in his despair and anger that MK manages to slip free and reclaim his power.
MK promptly bullies Macaque into actually mentoring him. Macaque chuckles at the nerve of this kid, and agrees - but only as a truce until Wukong returns. After that, Macaque expects a rematch.
Unironically loving this AU
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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 136 (Twists and Turns)
The next morning, Heather woke to a fresh blanket of spring snow (must be Canada 😂). She was hit with another bout of nausea, and stunned by news that one of her vet techs, Rico Garrison, had been unceremoniously culled killed in a shock drowning accident in Dachshund's Creek. This left her down a tech and about to commit to a months-long rebuild of Buttercup Pet Clinic.
Despite the unseasonably snowy holiday and feeling less than stellar, Heather had to go to work to cover Rico's appointments. She felt horrible for her best tech, Kaori Hayashi, who had been dating Rico since late winter. They were even expecting a child, which meant Heather would soon lose Kaori to maternity leave, too. At least Thaddeus, her most recent hire, could help pick up the slack, but this was undoubtedly a tragic setback.
Despite the unseasonal snowfall, J Huntington came in with his dog, Archimedes, thanking Heather for her advice over working with Landgraab Corp. "I signed the contract to give them the company. They'll take care of straightening out George's books, and for the first time, my guys will get healthcare, so everyone's on board with the change."
Heather forced a smile. She didn't care much for things that would please Nancy Landgraab, but she knew a strong presence at the docks was important after everything they'd been through over winter. "I'm happy for you," she said, and it wasn't a total lie.
She returned home in mid-afternoon, finding her younger sister back from Henford in the living room. "Hey Hazel! How was Easter dinner?"
"It was great." She fiddled with the hem of her jacket as she sat on the sofa. "I'm sorry I got upset with you while you were away. I was freaking out about all the marriage talk, but I shouldn't have put that on you."
"It's okay," said Heather. "I'm not upset, but I couldn't tell you what you should do. What if I had said no?" (That option won the poll, by the way!)
"I would've been more upset," she admitted. "I'm not ready to marry again right now, but I want to be with her for a long time."
"Did you talk to Suri?"
"I did. She said she's been feeling like she needs to hold on to the important people in her life since she lost her aunt so suddenly, and I totally understand what she's going through. But it's too soon to get married. We want to live together first - just the two of us."
"Here in Brindleton Bay?"
Hazel nodded. "I like working with Alex Goth, and the deal's almost done for Suri to buy the Salty Paw. She said when the owners found out her grandmother was Clara Bjergsen they did their own renovations and upped the price, but once a deal goes through, I'll move in with her in the small apartment over the bar."
"There's an apartment over the bar?"
"Not much of one, but we're going to try to turn it into something nice."
"I'm happy for you, Hazel. And I'm happy you handled this so maturely with Suri."
"You didn't think I could, did you."
"I hoped you would."
"Are you sure you guys won't miss me when I'm gone?"
"The Salty Paw's only about fifteen blocks away."
They laughed together and Hazel smiled. "Thanks for everything, sis. You're the best."
Heather still wasn't feeling great as she tried to get a few chores done around the house. She'd started to feel like she was fighting off an infection; it was time to see a doctor, so she left Conrad at home with Lavender to visit her gynecologist.
But she came home in a daze, stunned by the doctor's diagnosis. She found Conrad and Lavender upstairs, chatting as Lavender tried to bargain for another story. "When you're five, we'll talk about a later bedtime, but until then, that's now. Time to get into your pajamas." Conrad's attention turned when Heather shut the bedroom door behind her. "Hey! What did the doctor say?"
Heather sighed. "Well, I have a UTI. But that, the nausea, the fatigue...they have nothing to do with the spider bite."
Conrad's face fell. "What's up? You're okay...right?"
"I'm pregnant. About seven weeks."
She smiled as his expression flipped from concern to ecstatic joy. "Heather, that's incredible!"
Lavender glanced at her parents with confusion. "What's pregnen?"
"It means you're going to have a baby brother or sister."
Lavender still wasn't sure what they meant. "I have a brother awreddy. Can it be sister?"
"We don't choose, sweet girl."
"I hope it's a sister!"
After tucking Lavender into bed they settled onto the sofa for a comfortable night in, but their movie was interrupted when Heather's phone rang. She checked the call display before she connected the call. "Malcolm? What's going on? Is Ash there?"
The line was quiet for a long time. Too long, and Heather felt the phone start to shake in her hand. Finally, she heard Malcolm take a breath.
"Heather...I...It's...Ash is missing. H-he's been kidnapped." ->
<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary
Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary
NOTE: Sorry I buried the baby news, but I didn't have enough content to make a whole other post and I set myself another arbitrary deadline to get to a certain point in the story by a certain date. And Heather was supposed to learn she was pregnant later than this, but the mod-generated UTI sent her to the gynecologist and she/we found out earlier than planned. No offense to this very wanted baby but ASH IS MISSING!!
NOTE 2: @purplesimmer455 the way I couldn't react with the excitement I wanted to your meme share on Sunday knowing I paid homage to it in this very post ("What's pregnen?") and didn't want to give the truth away yet! 😅 Shout out to @matchalovertrait who also guessed this, and @changingplumbob who I think was thinking it when she asked why Ash's room had bunk beds. I made up a small fib about repurposing the tiny nursery space, but actually I still need it for the new nooboo!
NOTE 3: On one hand, it's very sad that Rico was culled when he's expecting a baby. On another hand, this is a setback on my likely-fruitless search for a five-star rating because now I have to train up a new tech! Tragic!!
WCIF Phone Poses: Unexpected Phone Call by @starrysimsie and Shocked News by @simmireen. I used @nataliaauditore-blog's iPhone 11 accessory in both poses.
#sims 4#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 screenshots#sims 4 legacy#sims in bloom#ts4#ts4 gameplay#ts4 legacy#ts4 screenshots#sims 4 story#ts4 story#legacy challenge#sims legacy#ts4 legacy challenge#gen 2#brindleton bay
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can you write a dallas x reader where he has to meet her family and what that is like? ps i love ur writing
meet the parents - dallas winston x reader
in which... dally attempts to learn table manners for you.
wc: 1122
warnings: none. fluff and language. :)
"i'm not kidding, dal. if you mention a word about your bets at the rodeos, i'll skin you alive."
you reach over the center console of buck's red thunderbird that dally 'borrowed' to park in front of your house, and fiddle mindlessly with the neckline of his white tee shirt, the cleanest one you could find in his closet for this occasion. though getting him to wear something with a collar, or god forbid, buttons, would be a tall order.
"quit worryin' your pretty head. i got it, alright? nothin' illegal." he grins over to you, leaning back in his seat and putting a cigarette between his lips. "i'll tell them i work at the library or some shit."
you roll your eyes at his comment and snatch the stick out of his hand before he can light it. "...and you can't be smellin' like smoke either when you meet them."
"awe, now you know that's too far." he reaches into the glove compartment, digging out a pack of menthols instead. "c'mon, you can't have a problem with these."
"ugh, dal…"
he groans dramatically, putting it back in the box. "fine. jesus, woman, the things i do for you.."
"yeah, you like me or something?" you can't hold back a smile.
"no, no, that's not it. i'm losin' my mind, that's what." he retorts, though there's that familiar softness in his voice. "alright. i can see your ma lookin' through the damn curtains, let's go."
he places a chaste kiss to your cheek and walks over to the passenger side, holding the door open. he'd be a real proper gentleman if you didn't know any better.
your heart beats out of your chest as you slide the key into the front door lock. and dally must have picked up on it with the way he squeezes your hand softly, running his thumb along your palm. you can hear your parents scramble off the couch at the sound
your mother's eyes light up when she sees you at the door.
"oh sweetheart, look at you two! well, come in, come in." she beckons you and dally into the living room, smoothing her hand over his shoulder.
you swallow hard before speaking. "mama, daddy, this is -"
"uh, dallas winston, sir." he's already reached out his hand for a firm shake, and your father's eyes immediately zero in on the small, healing cut on dally's lip, though he smiles gruffly.
"great to finally meet you, son. we've heard so much about you."
"real nice place you got here, ma'am." dally's eyes dart around your living room, trying really hard to seem like he hasn't already snuck up the stairs in the middle of the night a dozen times by now. you're biting the inside of your cheek, holding back a smirk.
"well, thank you, dallas." your mother gestures to the dining room, plates and utensils already laid out for four. "dinner should be just about ready. you like pot roast?"
"yes ma'am."
as the four of you sit down for dinner, you can sense the tension in dally's body from the corner of your eye. his fingers drum lightly against your knee.
"so, dallas, my daughter tells me you help out at the rodeos?" he asks cautiously, and dally nods.
"that's right, sir."
your dad passes the gravy boat, keeping his eyes on dally. "dangerous sport."
"yeah, that's what makes it worth doin'."
dally catches your warning nudge to his ankle under the table, and recovers quickly. "...course, i'm uh… real careful, sir. can't have your daughter here worried sick about me."
your father softens slightly at his words, glancing between you and dally. "that's right, son, you better be. this one's quite fond of you."
dally almost looks proud at your father's reaction, dropping his gaze to his plate to hide the hint of a flush on his cheeks.
"well, it's getting late," your mother says, gathering the dessert plates into the sink, while your father glances at the clock. "dallas, you'll drive safely home?"
"always do, ma'am."
you can barely stifle a laugh at that one.
"and thanks for dinner... it was real good." he continues, standing up from the table and pushing the chair in all proper.
"why don't you two say goodnight on the porch?" your mother suggests, and you don't miss how dally's eyes light up for a moment.
as you close the screen door behind you, the sounds from the dining room muffled and the cool air hitting your face, dally's lips are already at your ear.
"window's unlocked?"
you nod as subtly as you can, knowing your parents are definitely peeking at you through the windows. "be careful with the screen this time. daddy noticed the holes last week."
"yeah, i got it. ten minutes, baby." he mutters gruffly. he leans down and kisses your forehead softly before heading down the steps towards the thunderbird.
you let out a quiet sigh and head back into the dining room, letting out a slightly exaggerated yawn. "think i'd better head up, mama. got some reading to do before bed."
you almost think your mother is onto something with the knowing look she gives you. "alright, honey." she pauses. "he seems like a good guy. he treat you well?"
you smile softly. "yeah. yeah… he does, swear."
"man, was i good down there or what?"
you barely had time to change into your nightgown before dally's made the climb back into your bedroom. by the looks of it, all the rules he was bound to have been completely abandoned.
you scoff slightly, sitting criss cross on the foot of the bed. he's already sprawled across your headboard, head lounging on your ruffled pillows.
"yeah, a little too good, dal. got 'em thinking you're a prep school boy… where'd you pick up manners like that?"
his chuckle is muffled softly by the cigarette between his lips.
"wouldn't you like to know, sweetheart?" he pats the spot right next to him, mumbling, "c'mere."
"dal, they haven't even went to bed yet-"
"ain't doin' nothin'. just want my girl closer." he pauses, a shit-eating grin creeping onto his face. "...what were you thinking?"
you let out a halfhearted groan but scoot over next to him anyway, sinking your head into the crook of his neck. he strokes the top of your head lazily as you take in the subtle feeling of his chest rising and falling, a feeling that's always comforted you.
"think they're asleep yet?" he mumbles after a while, his breath in your ear.
you poke him gently in his side. "dal..."
he can't hold back a gruff laugh as he catches your fingers, interlacing them with his own.
"worth a shot, baby."
a.n. i hope you like this request i'm sorry it took so long!! i was fighting for my life trying to make this not too ooc bc i feel like in reality dallas would like cuss your parents out to their face but i CHOOSE to believe he can also do this like i'm a soft dallas truther.
ps.ps. this is kinda soc reader coded…
taglist: @mrsdillonx @hailpacino @magefelixir @jujuheartz13 @coastershells @r0seb100d
#socgfwriting#dallas winston#the outsiders#dally winston#matt dillon#dallas winston x reader#dallas winston x y/n#dally winston x reader#dallas winston headcanons#dallas winston hcs#matt dillon x reader#darry curtis#steve randle#ponyboy curtis#johnny cade#two bit mathews#sodapop curtis
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Promise
⋆ kento nanami x coworker!reader - the prologue!? ⋆
word count : 1k+ ⋆₊˚⊹
before you read : mentions of character death, spoilers for jjk inventory arc. you have been warned. enjoy this little piece of teen!nanami x reader angst! ^_^
“What did you do with your first paycheck, Nanami?”
Your words drown out the liveliness around you, the sounds of children laughing as they played with their food and the worries of the doting mothers next to them deafened by your question.
The way you looked at him with those eyes of yours. The way you said his name like you've known him for years, years that exceeded your recent transfer to Tokyo's jujutsu high.
The smell of baked goods and hot coffee wafts through the air as Nanami considers your question.
“I can't remember.” He initially replies, looking off to the side.
With some thought behind it, he adds in, “I put it into my savings account, I think.”
The way you tilted your head at his answer makes him believe you wanted to hear him say something more interesting. What else was there to say?
You half-expected his answer, but you said what you were thinking anyway.
Your eyebrows knit together as you reply. “That's so boring, Nanami.”
You place your hand under your chin. With your other hand, you stir the spoon in your cup of morning caffeine.
“Wanna know what I'm going to get with mine, Nanam?”
You don't bother to hear his confirmation. You smile wide as you speak, Nanami looks at you as if trying to commit the way you looked to memory.
“Once I get my first paycheck,” you continue to smile, looking down at the table. “I'm getting us a cake to celebrate. Savarin cake!” You declare loudly, sounding quite sure of yourself and your success on your first independent mission.
You look back with a spark of determination in your eyes.
“A big one.”
You point the silverware at him, his reflection warbled in the spoon.
“A big one, hm?” He repeats.
“Just for you and me.” You add with a sure nod, pointing at yourself before dropping the utensil into your cup.
“It's a little too early to be thinking about sweets, isn't it?” He asks, chuckling quietly at your determination.
Even when you pointed a spoon at him to prove your promise to him, vowing with the silverware to share a slice of cake bought with your first paycheck.
“It's never too early to be thinking about sweets, Nanami.” You reply, the side of your shoe grazing against his own. The casual show of affection makes him look down, your shoe next to his under the table. “Gojo's not the one making you say that, I hope.”
You laugh at his words, your hand migrating from your cheek to your mouth to muffle your chuckles.
“Gojo can't make me do shit, Nanami.”
The boldness in your reply makes Nanami question his own doubts and worries about you coming back from your mission safely.
“Just come back to me in one piece, please.” He says, tone almost pleading as he places his hand on the table.
Close enough to touch yours, but far enough to only feel your warmth.
“That's all I ask of you, (L/N). Come back alive.”
He doesn't want to acknowledge it, but there's more than just care meant for a fellow sorcerer behind his words.
You were his partner. And he didn't want to lose you.
He didn't want you to become another face in a pile of corpses in an abandoned strip of Tokyo's city.
“Just..” Nanami pauses, trailing off. He had to tread carefully now, knowing that if he said the wrong thing, you'd leave thinking about what he said.
“Promise me you won't do anything stupid.” He wasn't asking you to. He was telling you to.
Nanami hopes you had enough common sense in that head of yours to know that.
“People die in our line of work all the time. You know, they say sorcerers…” He doesn't hear the rest of what you said after, his mind focusing on how you brushed off his concern.
Nanami stiffens in his chair. He didn't like how flippant your response was, and he didn't like the carefree smile you put on after.
“Even though. Despite that fact. Please, (L/N).”
His eyes soften when they land on you again. The lively surroundings around him blur when he focuses on you.
He didn't want to see you on a mortuary table, your body dressed in white with a towel covering your face. He hated how vividly he could imagine it in his head.
He didn't want you to end up like Haibara. Taken away from him too soon. It all happened so fast.
In a blink of an eye, you could be taken away from him.
One wrong step. One miscalculation in the usage of your abilities, and you'd be taken away from him in an instant.
He was more attached to you than he thought.
Nanami's too deep in his own head to notice the way you casually brushed the hair out of his face. Blond strands no longer hiding the softness in his eyes.
He only registers your touch when you pull away, your finger pointed at him with a reassuring smile.
You smile widely at him.
“You worry too much, Nanami.”
He still remembers the way your lips moved as the unassuming black sedan pulled away from the bakery parking, a piece of you in between his fingers.
He sits there quietly, looking at the uniform button in his hand. You told him not to worry, even joked about it to make him feel better. You gave him your uniform button without thinking much about the implications behind it.
You were an idiot. His idiot.
His grip on the button tightens, the pad of his thumb pressing into the circular indent in the middle.
“You cocky idiot..” He murmurs in between his teeth,
“You better not die on me.”
You're already gone, far away. The car you went in probably on the highway by now.
Nanami doesn't know what he's doing. He slips the button into his pocket, feeling its shape to make sure it's still there.
He doesn't know why he has this... feeling in his chest that he can't quite place.
He can't imagine a world without you, and he doesn't want to.
⋆ part two is coming soon to bakeries near you !!
#🥀#written by the lamb#read to your hearts content! like the fic? reblog and show your love in the tags!!#kento nanami x y/n#kento nanami x you#kento nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#nanami x reader#nanami angst#kento nanami angst#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk angst
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heya aves!! could I req alhaitham for ( ❤️ ) — IRIS sonder and taciturn? thanksths:3
cws & notes. no warnings. alhaitham x gn!reader. angst, but with a hopeful ending. 700+ words. eek i hope this is okay, it didn't turn out how i'd hoped.
Doubts, you always had doubts when it came to Alhaitham.
Not any sort of big ones, nothing to shake you to your core, leaving you stumbling on your feet with each step. Just small ones. Small, silly, inconsequential doubts, that worm their way through your brain, and bury themselves into the cracks of your mind. Annoying little insects is all they are, nothing more than a fly buzzing by your ear.
Still, their whispers never waver, no matter how much logic you try to soothe them with. You wished you could say they didn't bother you, you wished you were able to put them to rest once and for all, but they always seem to linger like a bad cologne.
Your lover has always been the quiet type; never silent, just quiet. His words are measured, clipped and precise, not wasting a single breath more than is necessary. It never bothered you before; you easily wrote it off as just his temperament, but it didn't take long to feel the strain.
No matter how many times you told him you loved him, it was rare to hear it said back to you. And maybe it was a fault of your own, for only working up the courage to say it in a playful, light-hearted tone, when on the inside you were aching to hear it sincerely, but it hurt. Much more than you were willing to admit.
During the days when you were separate, you'd wander the streets with a frown settled over your features, watching mournfully over the young couples milling around. Sumeru was never empty, no matter the time of day or corner of the city you visited, so you were never lacking in strangers to watch.
It almost pained you to see, the ones who loved and were loved so easily. All wrapped up in their own lives, not noticing your stare, they giggled to themselves, exchanging kisses and affections without a care in the world. They had their own places to go, things to do, people to love, but all you had was...
Doubts.
Alhaitham was never like that. He was never outwardly callous or cruel, never to you, but it wasn't like he made much of an effort to soften up either. From an outside looking in, it would be hard to distinguish any romance between the two of you at all. It was just his nature, you reasoned with yourself, but your mind still wondered.
“You love me, don't you?” You eventually asked. The silence stretched wide between you two, thick enough to be sliced with the knife in Alhaitham's hand. The utensil was frozen in his grasp, hovering above the vegetables he was in the midst of chopping up.
“Of course I do.” He frowned, resuming his cutting. “Why are you asking?”
“You never say it.” There was no other way to put it, than as bluntly as possible. Perhaps the rarity of the words is what brings them more meaning, but it didn't exactly put you at ease.
“I love you.” For the first time, he sounded uncertain. Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you held his gaze. “I do. I thought you knew that.”
And of course you knew. Past the poisonous part of your mind that hissed if he really loved you, he'd show it, is the knowledge that Alhaitham would never waste his time with someone he didn't care about. A while ago, it might even have been enough, but the comfort was wearing thin.
“I'm... sorry.” He said slowly, placing the knife down. “I didn't realize you were so affected. I'll try to be more... outward with my affections. If that is something you desire.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, mulling over the words. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
All you can do is nod, holding the vow close to your heart. Your lover might be quiet, but what he does say, he means. When he tells you he's trying, you believe him without resistance, because you know it is fact. And even after your dinner, when you're washing up alone, with the doubt still present in the back of your head, you trust in his word.
Because you know he keeps his promises.
✦ IRIS : promises are just words unless they can actually keep them. ✦ SONDER : the profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own. ✦ TACITURN : silent; temperamentally untalkative; disinclined to speak.
written for the @stellaronhvnters love letters event ♡
© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai
#✒️ : avie's writing . ⊹ ˚ .#—stellaronhvnters.#hvntersloveletters#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x reader#genshin alhaitham x reader#genshin impact alhaitham x reader#x reader
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ST5 MAY LEAKS
Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome
Fremde, etranger, stranger
Glukich zu sehen, je suis enchante, happy to see you
Bleibe, reste, stay
Originally collected from multiple sources part of, and in contact with, Minou in the months leading up to May, these are the published leaks and conversations from that time. According to other leakers, this information was ~80% true and likely to have come from real extras, including military staff. Today, we have full confirmation for the vast majority. Screenshots from the time are publicly available, and as such will not be provided in this post.
Keep in mind some information may be omitted, as these leaks are not part of the recent batch. Feel free to contact The Cat's Meow or Minou directly to learn more!
PARTIAL NURSING EXTRA INTERVIEW
"Hey! I'm really sorry for not having talked much. There is a lot of work here. I have coffee on hand and [more information]! Personally, the filming is scattered. The military personnel, but especially [us] nurses, are recurring but do not play an incredible role, at least for our cohort. There are 2 [...] good guys and bad guys. My group is the [good cohort], we are generally in the background and we [...] take care of civilians and [the main] actors.
Extras for the military are sent in [shifts], so if the accounts of fans have not posted a huge ad saying 'EXTRAS FINALLY ARRIVED IN ATLANTA', that is why. It's something that they have done in all of the filming sessions. It is way too much work to have everyone here at the same time, and [we also experience] problems with travel and confidentiality.
[...] Most of us are leaving the area when we finish the work for the day. Some come in [only to] return home. I am staying in a motel with a handful of other extras.
The leaks on the time skip are true, but I think they have been exaggerated. It is [limited to the first episode] and taken slowly, given that we are moving from one season to another. It stops in autumn. The aesthetic of the season is similar to the first season [and] there are no flashy colours, if that can make someone happy. In fact, I think [it is] duller than season 1. It is very suitable for what [will be occurring]."
FULL LEAK RUNDOWN INTERVIEW
Was there any mention of the Upside Down duos or confirmed mid-late season pairings?
"The season is a lot more community-orientated. The 'pairings' they mentioned were small groups."
Did they confirm Mike's injury?
" [...] Almost all of the characters get hurt in some way [...] They have scratches, injured arms and legs with visual limps and gashes. One character has a deep wound near their midsection. There is a conversation about health and sickness [caused by the] Upside Down particles and environment, and how that might put people at [higher] risk."
Did they have solid information outside of the hospital, specifically regarding character arcs?
"They confirmed the time skip leaks, but it was blown out of proportion, as well as the Upside Down sicknesses. The parents, mainly Karen, have an increase in screen time because of [the sicknesses], and eventually become involved with the supernatural plot. There is a 'Byler' moment where the two [...] scout out [an area] together."
What additional information do you have?
"A large amount of the season focuses on the real world and Hawkins. The aesthetic and pacing is similar to season 1 and 2, [and it is] set around fall. [Hawkins] has aspects of quarantining. The hospital crew were sent to Hawkins by the military, [however they] abandoned those duties to help properly assist civilians. They are snuffed out eventually."
What are they unable to tell you?
"Extras almost never have the full script, and might not even have their own, unless [they have] speaking lines [...] I would not be shocked if parts were cut out."
How would you better describe Mike's arc?
"[...] His arc is separate, in the sense that he is not talking about his girlfriend every 5 seconds [like in season 3 and 4]. It's focused on self discovery [...] he is trying to get back to normalcy and figure out what [had] changed in him. He spends [most of the season] with Will, and there is more distance between him and El. [...] The vibes are similar to [those in] season 4."
Did you hear anything about Will?
"No. All I really know is that Will takes a leadership role because of his knowledge [and experience with] the Upside Down. They reacted positively to the rumours about Will having nightmares or discomfort. [I was only told about] 2 conversations [between] Mike and Will, and both of them are about health and well being. [It's possible that they are] in the same scene, with a transition between public and somewhere more secluded. The first is about the health of other people, and the second is about Mike and Will individually."
Have you heard anything in relation to the farm?
"They are not involved in those scenes and plots, but the characters consider heading farther from Hawkins because of everything that is going on with the military and gate exposure [...] It is not related to any Upside Down threat initially."
Does Will blame himself?
"Will takes on a [...] leadership role because of his experience with the Upside Down and general maturity. A chunk of his plot is him feeling [as if] he has a responsibility to support everybody else, and [he has] some negative emotions brought out when that does not go perfect. Not that the rest of the characters are happy, but nothing is explicitly said or shown except for Will and some other characters. There are a handful of remarks made about his responses to events."
How do these negative emotions contribute to the stories angst?
"The entire season is doom and gloom, but for Will, everything is discreet. [...] His relationships are strained. He lets his trauma take the wheel from what I'm hearing, [feeling] on edge early in the season, and [this] turns into snappy dialogue post-harm. There are comments from other characters that bring up and question this, specifically El, Steve and Robin. [There are] no destroyed friendships because of it [...] but it is uncomfortable."
INCOMPLETE SPACE RECORDINGS
There are multiple flashbacks throughout the season.
There is an angst parallel to season 2.
When asked about the church, a burning cross was presented.
El does not live in Hopper's cabin or Mike's house.
Will experience nightmares and trances.
Vecna targets his victims in a different way.
Vecna targets Holly.
Karen does not die.
Ted dies.
El does not attend school or live close to Hawkins.
Nobody knows the ending.
Will falls from a tree and the visual switches from the Upside Down to the real world.
Flashbacks, "false flashbacks", visions, beliefs, and control.
Characters are sleep deprived.
The scream was not Jonathan.
There is a conversation about nightmares.
Leakers do know multiple interactions and pairings but refuse to share them.
Jonathan, Robin, Hopper and Erica frequently get screen time.
Nobody knows the endgames.
El visits the mindscape.
There is a false sacrifice or loss.
There are multiple fight scenes with Vecna.
There are both "Byler" and "Mileven" scenes.
El and Max interact.
The flashbacks are only of the Upside Down.
#byler#mileven#bylertwt#stranger things#strangerthings#lumax#jopper#st5#st5 leaks#st5 production#stranger things 5
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i aced my history of fashion final!!
#it was supposed to end weeks ago but some stuff happened and it kept getting pushed out#but i got 100% on my final and passed the class with an A!!#that's two this term now we'll see about my other 4 classes#but i feel so proud of myself.#i could barely pass one class when i was in community college#i don't think i got an A my whole time there#it's almost like i put in the work when i'm doing something i care about..#what do you have to say doll?
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I feel so horrible
#last evening i spilled tea it was obv an accident but i should have been more careful it was through a too careless action#some spilled on the book i got from the library. i thought that was the worst part#a bit spilled on my laptop. very little. while i was busy with the book my mom wiped my laptop#my brother immediately turned it off & told me to keep it upside down overnight#so i put it upside down. for hours. at least 4. before that i picked it up to look i could still see the water#but my laptop reacted to me picking it up & showed the battery percentage on the screen like it does#i didnt do anything else and put it back upside down. so again later i picked it up to check#it look dry. this time it didnt react to my ''touch'' to me picking it up#i didnt think anything. i wanted to do something on my laptop and tried powering it on. idk if that was a mistake or not#but it didnt react. the night is over it's almost noon it's still not turning on. it's been in rice the whole night#but honestly i dont even know if that actually helps. i know it's a popular method but idk#my brother works in IT he knows computers he said he'd unscrew & remove the storage disk to be safe#and to call someone they know who repairs computers. neither of these things happened yet bc we dont have the right screw#my brother i believe asked the neighbor#i'm not really hopeful. i've slept 4 hours last night bc i was so worried i couldnt sleep#went to sleep at 3 woke up at 7 couldnt sleep again#i said i'm not hopeful but one thing about me i never think bad things like this could happen to me so there's always this#''it's not real this isnt happening'' in me. i wish it wasnt bc if it turns out to be real it devastates me#i feel i get swayed so easily by things going wrong. it just immobilizes me#it happened when my luggage got lost. i was completely scatter brained fully gone when it happened#i was staying at my aunt's place. she poked fun at me for how much it affected me. said i have euros i could raplace my clothes#i spent four days this way. i was there to see a friend. i felt i was robbed from truly having a good time. it was our first time meeting#i cried every single day. called the airport lost & found every single day. this one thing occupied my whole being#i got my luggage back but what i'm getting at is for one i actually got it back so it wasnt a real bad thing that happened. it got fixed#and two it just had me in its clutches this one incident. so now my laptop wont turn on i cant think of anything else#cant do anything else. and although it looks real and i DONT want to be hopeful so i can let go and not be devastated when i find out#it's irreparable. idk where i'm getting at with this. except idk i really really really want it to work again#nesi rants
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A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about
Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅
Putting On A Brave Face
L&DS Boys x Reader
Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...
Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!
Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)
| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
Xavier ⭐
This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.
You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.
You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.
Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.
You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.
Still nothing.
Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.
There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.
You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.
You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.
Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.
Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.
“Xavier!” you call back.
You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.
“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”
Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.
“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”
He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”
“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.
“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”
“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”
“But you’re not.”
“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.
Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.
“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”
He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.
“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”
You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”
The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.
He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.
“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”
“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”
“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.
He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.
“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”
You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”
“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.
You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”
Zayne ❄
“I’m a doctor.”
You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”
“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”
None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”
“Is it?”
Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.
“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”
His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”
The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.
“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”
There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.
“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”
“Yes,” he says plainly.
“You’re delusional.”
“Ok.”
Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…
Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”
“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”
Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?
“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:
“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”
Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.
“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.
“You’re welcome."
Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.
Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.
“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”
You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.
“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”
Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.
“No?”
“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”
“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.
“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”
You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”
He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.
“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”
“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”
Rafayel 🔥
“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”
“Raf, who are you—”
He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”
You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.
He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.
All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…
But they don’t.
It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—
That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”
He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”
“Knew what? Who was that?”
“Zayne.”
“You called Zayne?”
“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”
The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”
He shrugs. “That’s different.”
“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.
Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.
“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”
“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”
You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”
“What?”
“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”
Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”
Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”
“Raf—”
“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”
You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”
Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.
“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”
“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”
You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.
“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.
His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”
“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.
Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”
“Help me out with this, cutie?”
“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.
A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”
“For the love of—” Thomas starts.
“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”
Heads turn. Cameras flash.
Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.
Sylus 🩸
“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.
“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”
Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?
“Last chance,” he growls.
“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”
He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”
“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”
“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?
“What’s wrong, Sy?”
He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.
“Sylus?”
“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”
The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”
“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”
He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.
That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.
“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”
“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”
Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”
You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?
“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.
“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”
Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.
“Come here,” he orders gently.
You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.
“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”
“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”
“What do you want to do today, Sy?”
His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”
There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.
“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”
…
“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”
He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”
“Are the boys ok?”
The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”
Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.
“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.
“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.
#🖋rach is actually writing#xavier x reader#zayne x reader#rafayel x reader#sylus x reader#love and deepspace#lads x reader#lads x mc#shen xinghui#li shen#qi yu#qin che#lads#lnds#l&ds
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI
fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words
“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss.
he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live.
cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.
he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.
“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.
“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.”
a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.”
“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."
normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks.
levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”
you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice.
levi makes his way towards the door.
“levi?”
he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t.
but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought.
you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.”
he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”
within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting.
he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter.
no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle.
levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess.
their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say.
his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first.
“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.
armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”
levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red.
he should've known.
“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.
“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."
levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you.
“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”
eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice.
or so he thought, anyway.
historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness.
“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”
levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.
eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned.
it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety.
“how long have you been together?”
“does she actually like you?”
“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.”
“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.”
“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.”
"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.”
“five—”
a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.
levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.
even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.
he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x female reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi x you#xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚。⋆#levi ackerman fluff#levi ackerman angst#levi ackerman x y/n#levi ackerman x fem!reader#levi imagine#levi headcanons#levi drabble#aot x female reader#aot x reader#aot x you#aot fluff#snk x reader#snk x you#snk x y/n#attack on titan x female reader#attack on titan fanfiction#xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚。⋆
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Part Five
Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)
You call Meredith when you get home.
You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.
How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.
"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."
"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"
"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."
"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.
"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."
"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."
"That works."
"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."
It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.
"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.
"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."
The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.
Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.
But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.
You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.
You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.
Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.
“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...
“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”
"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"
"You won't return any of our messages."
"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."
"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.
"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.
Dammit.
"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."
"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.
"Why not?" He countered.
“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”
He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.
You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.
God...
That felt good.
You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...
You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst with a happy ending#angst#grovel#jealousy
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A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?
Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)
Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.
A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).
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The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.
Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.
"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.
"Morning, handsome."
I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.
"What time is it? We need to get up."
Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.
"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."
Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.
A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.
"So, we do have time, don't we?"
"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.
Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.
-
How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.
It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.
And by now? It's working.
We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.
Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.
Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.
"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.
"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.
"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.
"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.
"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"
"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.
"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.
"Yay! We need to know everything about him."
Oh. That's dangerous territory.
JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.
"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.
"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.
"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.
"What?"
"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Oh, Lord. What have I got into?
"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"
The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.
"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.
Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.
"Then? Is he good or not?"
I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.
"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."
"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.
"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"
The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.
"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"
I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.
"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"
Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.
"Yeah. What about him?"
"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.
"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."
Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"
"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.
"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."
"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"
Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.
But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.
And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.
When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.
"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.
"Hi," he returns a smile.
"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"
A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.
"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."
It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.
"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."
A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.
"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"
"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.
The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.
"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.
Fuck. A new case.
-
Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'
It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.
We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.
In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?
I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.
And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.
In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.
I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.
It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.
We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.
It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?
What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.
Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.
Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.
Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.
Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.
But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.
-
As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.
Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.
I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.
"What the fuck!"
"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.
"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.
"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.
I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.
"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."
My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.
"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.
"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"
Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.
From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.
"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"
That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.
"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."
Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?
He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.
"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.
'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.
"No! I'm not-"
"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.
"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.
"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.
Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-
"What? Why I-"
"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.
As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.
"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"
His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.
"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."
"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.
"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.
"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."
I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.
I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.
When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.
"Spencer-" I barely mumble.
"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.
Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.
The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.
My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.
Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.
"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.
"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.
"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.
"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"
Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.
"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."
Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.
He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.
He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.
A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.
Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.
"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.
"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.
After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.
"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"
That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.
"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.
Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.
"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.
I'm about to combust.
"Spencer, please."
"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.
"I - I need more."
"Are you already desperate for me?"
I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.
"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"
I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.
"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."
Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.
"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.
"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"
What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?
I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.
"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.
Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.
His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.
A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.
"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.
"Yes! Please, don't stop."
His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.
"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.
His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.
"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"
A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.
"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.
"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.
I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.
"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"
With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.
"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.
Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.
"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.
"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.
"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."
Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"
"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."
I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.
"On your elbows and knees."
It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.
Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.
"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"
The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.
"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.
While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.
When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.
"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.
"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.
"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.
"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.
"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."
Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.
"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"
"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."
His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.
"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.
He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.
"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.
"Y-yes."
"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.
"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"
My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.
And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.
"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.
"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.
"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"
"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"
"Yes! I need to cum, please-"
"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."
And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.
We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.
Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.
"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.
"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.
A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.
This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.
"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.
"So you liked it?"
"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.
"What is it?"
"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"
"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.
"Yeah? Well, then?"
"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.
"Oh, God."
"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."
Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.
"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.
"The part when you admitted seeing someone."
"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."
Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"
That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.
"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."
Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."
"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.
"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.
"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.
"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.
"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."
"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.
"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.
With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.
"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.
What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.
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