#like some people need to drop their entitlement and get their head out their ass

[epickiya722]

"This ship doesn't make sense to me."

Does it need to? Are you someone special that we don't know about? Must this ship cater to your needs and your needs only for it to be shipped?

[celandeline]

If You Never Shoot, You Never Know

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 1 [previous part | next part]

All you want to do is eat. 

You’re almost dead on your feet, exhausted after a day-long supply run with Daryl. For all your trouble, it had turned into a bit of a shitshow in the end, really, how were either of you supposed to know that there had been two dozen walkers in the basement? But you’re alive, and you’re back behind the walls of Alexandria, and Rick had seemed grateful for what supplies you had managed to scrounge up. So you feel entitled to treating yourself to grilled cheese. 

You relax back against the island of your kitchen as you flip on the stove, dropping some butter in your frying pan to begin to melt. The delicious smell of frying butter begins to fill the room, and you close your eyes, savoring the scent. God, you’re starving. 

A knock at your door interrupts the pleasant, buttery thoughts in your head, and you groan, trudging out of the kitchen. You already know who it is - no doubt the moment he saw you get home, he started over…

You whip open the door and lean against the frame, looking down at the boy on your porch. “What?”

Carl Grimes, with a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist, smiles at you. “Brought you flowers.” He says, holding them out to you. 

He’s been doing this for months now. Purposefully volunteering for work that he knows you’re doing, making up any excuse to spend time at your house, going out of his way to bring you things - your favorite snacks, a ring with your favorite color stone in it, a shirt for a band that you like, now also flowers. It’s cute, this little crush he has on you. But turning him down is getting a little tedious. 

You sigh. “Carl, we’ve got to stop doing this.” Still, you hold your hand out for the flowers. 

“Dunno what you mean.” He says even though he definitely does. He hands you the bouquet. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate for a minute, examining the flowers he’d brought. All pretty, all in shades of your favorite color. “Your dad know where you are? Or is he gonna come busting down my door looking for you again?”

His cheeks redden as you reference the worst afternoon of both of your lives. “I told him.”

“Sure then.” You say, holding the door open so that he can slip inside. “‘M making dinner if you’re hungry. Grilled cheese.”

“If you don’t mind.” He says, wiping his boots on your rug before stepping inside. Always the gentleman. 

You look at him, exasperated. “When have I ever minded?” You ask, shutting the door and heading back into the kitchen, flowers in hand. 

“Just trying to be polite.” He says, following after you. 

You set the bouquet of flowers down on the island before turning back to your pan, dropping four slices of bread into the bubbling butter to begin frying. Carl makes himself comfortable on one of your barstools, watching as you pull a tall cracked glass out of one of your cabinets and fill it with water before dropping the flowers in. You set the makeshift vase in the center of the island with a smile. “Thanks.” You say. “They’re pretty.”

He grins. “They made me think of you.” He says. “Thought you might like them.”

You say nothing, ignoring how his little flirtatious comment makes you feel and instead focusing on the sandwiches. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is that of sizzling butter as you flip the slices of bread, until Carl speaks again. 

“How was your day?” He asks. 

“Alright.” You sigh. “Not as good as it could’ve been, but there’s always tomorrow. Now that Daryl and I know what we’re getting into, it should be easier to handle. And we can always bring more people with us.”

“I could come.” He offers immediately. 

You shake your head. “You’ve got your own jobs. Plus,” You joke. “I don’t need you distracting me while I’m trying to kick walker ass.”

He tilts his head, a little smirk at the corner of his lips. “Do I distract you?”

“You wish.” You say.

“I do.” He shoots back, unashamed. 

It’s annoying, how good he is at this. Makes it all the harder to keep reminding yourself why you can’t just give in to his advances. You’re three years older than him - which wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t freshly eighteen, but he is. And you’re already on Rick’s shit list when it comes to Carl - he’d almost throttled you when he found out Carl had asked you to sneak him some alcohol the next time you went on a run. He’d been furious, that day he was pounding on your door demanding to know where his son was - said he didn’t want him hanging around you, that you were ‘corrupting’ him. You can’t imagine what he’d do to you if you actually were to corrupt his boy, as he’d put it. 

“Carl.” You sigh, flipping the bread again, making sure all the sides are a delicious golden brown. 

“Sorry.” He says, not sounding sorry at all. “I know.”

And he does know - you’ve talked about it a lot, why this could never work. But the logic doesn’t seem to have deterred him at all. 

“You’ve gotta drop it.” You say, folding some slices of cheese into the bread, two fully formed sandwiches sliding around the buttery pan now. You have to swallow to stop your mouth from watering. 

“But you like it.” He says. 

You roll your eyes. 

“C’mon, you do.” He says, grinning as he gestures to the bouquet on display. “You would’ve actually told me to fuck off if you didn’t.” His icy blue eyes find yours. “If you tell me to fuck off, I will, you know that.”

You do know. But selfishly, you don’t want to tell him to go, even though you should. It’s silly to keep doing this when Rick will never ever let it happen, but he’s wormed his way into your affections. You like him. He’s sweet, and funny, and a great shot, and has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. And you like that he likes you, for whatever reason. 

You scoop the sandwiches out of the pan and onto a plate before flipping the stove off. Coming around the island, you slide onto the barstool next to him, placing the plate between the two of you. You don’t bother waiting for him before you grab one for yourself, digging in. You swallow with a satisfied sigh. “God, I was starving.”

Carl bites into his own sandwich with a smile. “Thanks.” He says around a mouthful. “‘S good.”

“Welcome.” You say around another mouthful.

The kitchen is largely silent as you and Carl eat, until there’s nothing but crumbs left on the plate. Your stomach no longer threatening to start devouring your insides, you sink into the barstool, the exhaustion from your run finally catching up to you. You sigh, contentedly, and Carl smiles.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, his voice taking on that nervous tone that means he’s going to ask some mushy romantic stuff. 

Even though you shouldn’t keep entertaining this, you say, “Sure.”

His gaze set on the marble countertop, he idly rolls a crumb between two fingers, contemplative. “If my dad wasn’t in the equation, would you let me date you?” His eyes shift under his hat, glancing quickly over to you. 

You should say no, even if it’s not the truth. If Rick wasn’t part of the equation - or even if you were in his good graces - you’d let Carl date you. Of course you would. But that’s not how things are - as is, Rick would mount your head on a spike. You should say no. But when those icy blue eyes are boring into your soul, it’s hard to be dishonest. “Yeah.” You say, playing it off with a shrug. “Seems like the only way to get you to stop pestering me with flowers and whatnot.”

Carl grins, the kind of smile that only comes from getting exactly what you want. “Follow up question,” He starts, grin turning mischievous. “If we just didn’t tell my dad anything, would you-”

“Absolutely not, no.” You laugh. “You want to fool around in secret? That would make everything a thousand times worse, what are you thinking? If Rick ever found out-”

Carl turns in his seat to face you, sliding a hand across the marble countertop to interlace his fingers with yours. “Please.” He says. “You already said that if getting in trouble with my dad wasn’t a problem you’d be okay with us being a thing. If he never finds out, what’s the problem?”

You shove down the feeling that shoots through you when he laces his fingers together with yours. “I’m still older than you. You’re barely an adult, I mean, have you ever even had a girlfriend before?”

His cheeks redden. “No.”

“I can’t be the first. I can’t set the standard for all of your relationships after this one. You should date someone your own age, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls around here that have crushes on you-”

“I don’t want to date someone my own age.” Carl says. “The people my age here have been sheltered in Alexandria almost their whole lives. They don’t know what it’s like outside these walls. Talking to them feels like talking to middle schoolers.” He squeezes your hand. “But you know what it’s like out there, you’re out there with the groups going on supply runs all the time. You know how to defend yourself, and you’re not afraid of the walkers. I can actually talk to you about that stuff. And if anything were to ever happen, if walkers were to get in the walls again, I know you’d be able to take care of yourself.”

The way he looks at you with such admiration makes your heart do a funny flip in your chest. “You make this very hard, you know.” You tease, trying to ignore the urge to kiss him. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” He says. “I don’t care that my dad thinks you’re a bad influence, and I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re strong, and you’re pretty, and you’re the funniest person I know. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

You tilt your head and sigh, squeezing his hand back. “You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You say. “But unfortunately it does. Your dad calls the shots around here, and it’s bad enough that he already doesn’t like me. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“What if I talk to him?” Carl asks. “It’s not really your fault that he doesn’t like you, I’m the one who asked you to sneak me alcohol, I could explain-”

“It’s already a done deal.” You say. “And I don’t blame Rick for being pissed with me for that, I should have had the wherewithal to tell you no.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you didn’t.” He says. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” You say. Your gaze shifts to the window above the sink, the orange sun sinking below the horizon outside. “You should probably go home. It’s getting dark.”

Carl’s gaze follows yours, and he sighs. “Probably should.” He agrees sullenly. Slowly, he rises from his seat. “Thanks for the grilled cheese. And for talking to me.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime.” You say, standing up from your seat as well, despite your protesting muscles. 

You walk him to the door, holding it open as he steps out onto the porch. He turns back to look at you, that mischievous glint in his eye again. “Can I do something?” He asks, voice low. 

“Do what?” You shoot back, skeptical. 

He doesn’t answer, instead just stepping closer to you, his eye darting down to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. He approaches slow, giving you plenty of time to back away if you want to, but you don’t even though you should. The image of Rick standing on his porch across the street flares in your mind, but you still don’t pull away, and let Carl’s lips meet yours in a tender embrace. 

This kiss only lasts for a short moment before he’s pulling back, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “G’night.” He says.

“Night.” You return, stepping back through the threshold of your doorway before you do something stupid like kiss him again. You watch him retreat down your porch steps, catching the last grin he throws over his shoulder before he darts across the street, back home. 

Closing your door, you sigh hopelessly into the silence of your home. He’s going to be the death of you, one way or another.

[eddiemunsonw]

Like a dog

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Summary: Happens after Gator gets his ass kicked in episode 2. He clearly needs some help, but he's independent, right? He can take care of this himself, for sure.

CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst? Gator is having some inner struggles and you're doing your best to accommodate him. And yeah, a bit of misogyny in there too, nothing too strong though I would say. Also some fluff and humor, I barely can do without.

Author's note: The title is misleading, but it'll make sense once you start reading it.

Words: 2319

Gator

His ears were ringing, but apart from that no sound seemed to be coming in. He vaguely noticed his cheek was warm, realized it was blood and tried to not freak out. It wasn’t that he was scared of blood, not at all. Sometimes he even got a little kick out of watching things, people bleed. Just not himself.

Then… there was his arm. That was a problem for sure. He had felt the snap, heard it, even, before that asshole used his gun right next to his ear. Last but not least, his groin. His balls and dick felt like they had grown thrice in size in the bad way. He didn’t think there was any enlargement of balls in the good way anyway. But… Yeah. It really fucking hurt.

Getting to the ER was a challenge too. His father was occupied and he didn’t want to ask for his help for something so insignificant. He was independent. He could just walk. Once he stood upright, he felt like dropping to his knees again, his vision swimming. Everything hurt so much it was nearly blinding. He would’ve thrown up if… wait, had he thrown up? He tasted blood but he had also bitten his tongue, so… Whatever. One step at a time. And fingers crossed that shitbird wouldn’t find him.

You

The crash, followed by a yelp and a cry of pain startled you as you were restocking supplies. You rushed to the front and found a guy, a familiar guy, on the floor, holding his arm as he groaned in pain. Quickly, you kneeled down on the floor next to him, gently touching his shoulder.

“He—”

“Don’t touch me!”

His whole body tensed up and he twisted away from your touch. In the moment, it didn’t register to you as funny even though a bystander could probably see the humor of it as he wiggled away from you, groaning and moaning in pain as he did.

“I assume you’re here for a reason. How about we get you upright and in the chair, so I can check you out?”

Gator finally lifted his head to look at you and squinted. You noticed he was sweating, which wasn’t good. His eyes narrowed even more and a scowl pulled the corners of his mouth down.

“Are you even qualified?”

“Do you want help or not?” you deadpanned.

He managed to lift himself up to lean against the door and tried to cross his arms but remembered one wasn’t really cooperating and winced.

“Are you qualified?”

“To take care of dogs? Yeah, I am.”

Gator’s eyes flamed and you could tell he wanted to lurch forward, probably grasp your throat to shut you up. It didn’t help that you were smiling at him. Lucky for you, he was in too much pain to act on his deepest desires. Instead, he nearly spat the words out he said next.

“What are you calling me?”

You laughed dryly. Gator Tillman. He hadn’t changed a bit since school.

“Funny you immediately assume I’m talking about you. You’re at a vet. This isn’t the ER, Gator.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, taken aback. Only now he actually properly looked around. He seemed to have a hard time focusing his vision still. “What kind of bad business are you running here? There’s no one! Also that’s Sheriff Tillman for you.”

You looked at him, rolled your eyes and walked to the back to make yourself some coffee. He could wait. If he wanted to act like an entitled brat he should have gone to the actual ER. You knew barking dogs rarely bite. After a few minutes, he called out.

“Hey! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Depends,” you shouted from the back, “are you gonna stop acting like a dick or not, Deputy?”

A silence. One that dragged on long enough for you to walk back to the front with your coffee in hand. Maybe you hadn’t heard the door open and close? Wrong. His eyes met yours immediately when you looked down, lips pressed tightly together, whether out of pain or annoyance with you, you weren’t sure. You gave him a pointed glance and a quip of your brow, waiting.

“Yes.”

With some help, you got him to sit on the examination table, which immediately required a remark from him, of course.

“Can this thing even handle my weight?”

You eyed him up and down slowly, a slow smirk forming. His frown deepened as you let the silence settle between you and he shifted uncomfortably on the table.

“Yeah. You look like you weigh about the size of a chubby golden retriever.”

“I workout every day!” he spluttered, as if that was the point.

“Okay? Point is, it can take you. No need to worry your little head over it. Anyway… let’s see.”

You could feel Gator’s eyes following you as you gathered some supplies, knowing you wouldn’t be able to help him with everything. The best you could probably do was give him a ride to those that could. You turned around and lifted your hand to his face, gently wiping away the blood that had leaked from his ear. His hand grabbed your wrist tightly when you came closer to his ear and he hissed out in pain. His grip was painful, but you could tell by his ragged breaths that he wasn’t doing it out of malice. He was scared.

“Hey…” you started softly, leaning back to look at him. You stood between his legs and while you were smaller than him, were able to see eye to eye due to the height of the table. “You do need to go to the ER. Get you checked out. I can make you a temporary splint for your arm but I don’t wanna mess with it too much as it’s not my expertise to work on humans. I can give you a ride? Is there anything else that hurts?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible and avoided your eyes.

“Sorry?”

“My junk. I think I need to like, cool it or something,” he said reluctantly. You nodded and walked away from him to grab a gel pack from the freezer, but the hand around your wrist stopped you. As you turned around he was quick to avoid your gaze once again and dropped your wrist.

“You might want to take your pants off.”

“Hah?”

“For the gel pack,” you mumbled as you placed a gel pack wrapped in a towel next to him. He frowned but started fumbling with the button of his cargos anyway. You already wrote a note to stick on your door that you’d be out for a bit and added the emergency number of the nearest vet just in case.

“Fuck!”

His voice startled you and as you turned around you noticed he was still struggling with his button. His vest was slightly in the way as well as his belt, which didn’t help.

“Need help?”

“No.”

He continued to try, frustration rising. The soft whimpers and groans made you pity him a little. After a while he looked closer to crying and you couldn’t just stand by and watch. You made your way back, standing between his legs again and gently swatted his hand away. To your surprise, he didn’t object. Instead, he softly gasped, stammering softly as your hand accidentally grazed him. You were unsure whether it was out of pain or… something else. A quick glance at his face confirmed that he was focusing on your hand, lips parted slightly. His usual slicked back hair was messier than usual and only now you noticed the dried up tear streaks on his face. You pulled down his zipper and stepped back so he could get off the table. He slowly lifted his gaze, cheeks slightly flushed and if you weren’t mistaken, his lower lip trembled a little.

“Can you stand?”

Quietly, Gator pushed himself off the table and stood in front of you, taller again. Except, he looked rather small, looking down at his feet like that. He sighed shakily, making no move.

“Do you need help, or…”

He shook his head and pushed his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers before getting himself back on the table and covering himself with the gel pack. A sigh of relief was heard but other than that, he made no comments, no snarky remarks. Very uncharacteristic really. Or maybe it was just him without the forceful mask on his face.

“I’ll grab something for your arm, I’ll—”

You turned away from him again but before you could step away you felt his hand enclose around your wrist again. The gel pack fell to the ground with a soft thud.

“Don’t.”

“I…” you hesitated on what to say.

“Please.”

His voice sounded fragile now, shaky. You nodded and slowly bent down to grab the gel pack and handed it back to him as he let go of your wrist again. While you weren’t sure what he wanted, you made sure to stay. There seemed to be a lot going on in that head of his. Suddenly quite aware of your close proximity, you didn’t know where to look. Even though his crotch was covered with the gel pack, it was still weird to stand between his legs as his cargos dropped below his knees and slowly sagged down. Your gaze was focused to the side, which is why you didn’t immediately notice how he slowly bent forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder. It sounded like he was holding his breath, anticipating your reaction nervously. 

Without thinking, you put an arm around him, your hand soothingly rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. A shuddering breath left him as he relaxed against you. A few minutes in, at least it felt like some, you felt him tense up again. Not much later you felt something wet dripping down your collarbone. He was crying.

“If it’s hurting that badly, maybe we should…”

“No,” he croaked out, arm reaching out to clutch at your hip.

“Okay. Take as much time as you need. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m weak,” he managed to grunt. You weren’t surprised that a guy whose father was Roy Tillman had some deep self-loathing to deal with. In school it had always been obvious he felt pressured about living up to his father’s expectations. To be deserving of the Tillman name. He was as cocky as he was insecure. Still, no amount of pain justified being a grade-A dick to others. And yet… here you were, comforting the classic example of a grade-A dick.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all. Weak people don’t call themselves weak,” you told him softly, continuously rubbing his back. His breath shuddered when you gently readjusted the gel pack for him as it was slipping again.

“As if you know anything about weakness or strength,” he bit out, “you’re a female.”

“Right,” you mumbled, unimpressed. “Guess you’re weak then.”

A silence followed, apart from his soft sniffs, a reminder of his earlier crying. You felt him lift his forehead from your shoulder, breath tracing your jawline before his lips followed in its path. Your breath hitched, heartbeat quickening. Suddenly, his lips crashed on yours, demanding intimacy, taking it with some desperation. His lips felt chapped and for a second you were tempted to meet the roughness of his kiss but something in you held back.

In one quick move you pulled back and slapped him in the face. On the sensitive side, no less. He winced and looked betrayed, hand flying up to grab your wrist once more, tightening his grip until it hurt. You watched him closely, careful but not scared.

“Better not try that again without asking,” you warned.

“Or what?” Gator mumbled, his mouth curled down. Clearly not used to not getting his way. Well, too bad for him it had been you he wanted to kiss.

“Or I’ll squeeze your bad arm as hard as you’re squeezing my wrist right now.”

As if forgotten, Gator looked at his own hand and let go immediately, huffing a response you couldn’t make out clearly.

“Well then, shall we go?” you offered, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His injuries needed to be taken care of already. With clear disappointment he got up from the table and he let you help him get his pants back in place. The moment his hand reached out for your wrist you quickly pulled away and he looked up with genuine remorse. Hmm, interesting.

“Sorry,” he sighed and this time you let him take hold of your wrist, surprised when his touch was gentle as he rubbed his thumb over the most sore spot. “You’ve been all nice to me and I’ve been…”

“Yourself,” you finished with a shrug. Hurt crossed his eyes only for a second and you followed his gaze down to your wrist, where his touch was still so gentle.

“I’m not always like… that. I’m not.”

You cocked your head and watched him until his eyes met yours. There was a hesitance in them, but also determination. A soft smile graced your lips, which was met with the subtlest widening of his eyes.

“Maybe you could tell me more about that other you then, after we’ve patched you up.”

“Oh,” he said softly, followed by a nod. “Okay.”

“Come on, Sheriff Tillman.”

He smiled at your sarcastic, teasing tone and moved his hand down to yours to give it a light squeeze before letting go.

“Gator,” he corrected softly. “Just call me Gator, Y/N.”

“I was wondering if you’d remembered my name,” you chuckled.

“I always remember the pretty ones.”

“Flirting now, are we?”

“Maybe.” 

He tried to play it off cool. Until curiosity got the best of him. 

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

It was.

If you enjoyed this fic, please comment and/or reblog! It spreads my fic to other people to enjoy whereas a like does not, as much as I appreciate those too :) It would mean a lot <3

[thewriterg]

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐀𝐛𝐜𝐬

pairing(s);hobie brown x fem!reader, hobie brown x male!reader

summary; you see the title!

word count; around 2k

warning(s); everyone mentioned is 19+, smut.

A/n;—GIFs; @cowboysfuck— The debates going down with the age of everyone in atsv has me shaking in my boots so just know Hobie is a good and legal yummy adult in this 💀

🕷️Aftercare

Being completely and totally honest, babe he’s not cleaning you up.

I know the truth hurts but we have to stop the lies :(

If you meet him at one of his sets or the pub something like that? He’s viewing it as a quick fuck

He’s. A. Whore.

I mean we all seen that slutty ass waist right!?

He’s ran through! 😔

but I’m gonna feed into just a little 🤏🏽

If you happen to be in a relationship/fuck buddies he’s definitely a little more caring

After you both finish hes spooning you pawing his loads back in your cunt when it begins to seep out while lying kisses and bites up you shoulder that will darken by sunrise

Or you’re on top of him your cock slightly twitching inside of him acting as a plug so none of your cum is leaving him hes definitely panting feeling so full of you you as your head rest in the crook of his neck him rubbing his palm over your head down the nape of your neck

He’ll throw the blankets over you both maybe give you some water from the water bottle that sat on his nightstand for a week

🕷️Body Part

Hobies favorite part of you isn’t a body part but your beliefs!

Everyone’s entitled to their own opinions he supports that much BUT

If you can have your own opinion and stand on it!!?

like could see the opposing sides argument take it into consideration and still go to war for your own personal value

On his knees.

He’s that one viral sound where’s its like;

“And I’ll be there for them. With open arms, open legs, and a open mouth 🙂”

Is definitely dropping to his knees to give you head in the next fifteen minutes no matter where

The wrap up of todays lesson he’s just not into shallow people

His favorite part of himself however is his hands more specifically his fingers

If he need to learn a faster tempo place for a song he’s trying to learn you’re going to be his study buddy

“You’re helpin’ me so much thanks lovie” He muttered his index and middle fingers working at a god like pace in and out of your holes beginning to work you up to three as you tried to blink the dots out of your vision moaning at a pitch

He finally got down the song <3

🕷️Cum

Anywhere on your body where he can visibly see

For my girls he’s definitely going for the boobs he’s a tittie man!

For the guys he’s still going for your chest/stomach area

Cum on his face!

Soon there will not be a drop left

hes gonna be that “I eat it all” cat meme

“Gonna c-cum on you’re pretty fucking face, you fucking s-slut” You’re groaning while he’s looking up at you with his big puppy eyes your clit bumping against his nose or when his mouth finally reaches the base of your angry cock whining against the length massaging your balls while being hard as a rock himself a puddle of pre cum resting on his abs

🕷️Dirty Secret

#1

HES A SWITCH.

Goes perfectly with the whole not believing in consistency

I can’t picture Hobie sticking to one roll anyway 💀

I will gladly die on that hill alone if I have to I don’t care.

One day he’s bending you over in a alleyway forcing your hands on a brick wall muttering about how much of a fucking whore you are for dressing in that wife beater your nipple poking through the thin fabric and getting him hard

Next day he’s pathetically humping your loafer/heel under your desk while you have a meeting on your laptop above muffling his loud whine against your leg before you feel his tears on your leg when you shrug your foot away from his aching cock ruining his orgasm

#2

Take this with a grain of salt if you please

But-

You can not sit up here and tell me him and his band members haven’t fucked at least once

This band specifically! Turn down your volume ��

LIKE!?

that story however is for another day

#3

He has a dick piercing.

A Prince Albert one maybe?

He did it himsel

“Feel tha’ cold ‘ittle bar in your pretty ‘ole?” He would groan pressing down on your abdomen where he can feel himself bottoming out of you before thrusting in deeper than humanly possible grabbing your jaw forcing you to stare into each others soul as he fucks you deep

🕷️Experience

He’s is/was a whore depending on your relationship

He’s ran through, passed around, fucked out.

Loves when you show you’ll always be his best though

“Can’t hear you speak up whore” You hissed wrapping your hand around his neck lifting him up causing his back to arch pleasure painfully as you stop ramming into his hole causing him to whimper as you cock/strap stills in him

“No one f-fucks me like you do, please” He’s whining pathetically moaning in relief when you continue abusing his hole tears slipping past his eyes down to his cheeks

🕷️Favorite position

#1 Missionary!

It’s where either of you can get the deepest

“Look a tha’ feel me in your fuckin’ belly?” He would groan taking one of your hands pressing it against your abdomen as his cock moves in and out of you slowly hitting you spot repeatedly with your ankles crossed against his back

#2 Spooning

Has a lot of lazy mornings of when he’s waking up hard

You happened to already have the same idea 🙀

(#1 somno partaking couple)

Hobie would whimper in his sleep as he felt something warm around his cock and pressure on his lap of you backing up into him wouldn’t wake up until about the third time you’d lower down

In the mornings/where he doesn’t really have a sense on mobility or surrounding is where you’d easily pull the most noises from him

“You feel s-so good, so good birdy”

He’s cumming quick.

🕷️Goofy

Other than like a crack of a smirk?

I’m not really getting a goofy vibe from Hobie

Probably would just tease the fuck out of each other

🕷️Hair

HE HAS A HAPPY TRAIL.

His hair down there is curly and coarse he’ll trim it every once in a while but other than that doesn’t really bother

Most definitely does not give a flying fuck if you decide to shave or not

“Maybe another night ‘bee I didn’t get to shave”

And he’s just like

🤨.

≥))≥

| \_

“Your point?”

🕷️Intimacy

The thought makes him cringe internally

He can get down with it though but it’s mostly saved for important dates like anniversaries, birthdays, achievements, etc.

If you aren’t that intimate of a person that’s even better

But sometimes just take the time out to pull him aside slipping your hands down his jeans and into his boxers gently stroking his cock running your thumb over his slit whispering about how proud you are of him

“You’ve been doing so well I’m so proud of you”

DIHERHBRRIDIN he’s brain dead you murdered his brain into mush

🕷️Jack off

Will when he’s on a mission that takes longer than expected will probably take a video muttering how much he misses you while stroking his aching cock

But something else?

He can be a good boy when he wants

Put a cockring on him tell him if he lasts all day he can get a reward?

Struggling hard asf but will not touch himself cause what’s better than being your good boy!? ‼️🦅

🕷️Kink

Probably almost everything in the damn book but here are his mains

#1; Praise/Degradation

Just the right amount of both driving everyone up the wall

“Look at you takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ champ, that’s wha’ sluts do isn’t that right?” He mutters flash light kissing your skin as he records you on his phone pushing the back of your head down on his dick as you gag around the bask saliva and precum all around your mouth and cheeks

#2; Slapping/Spanking

I’m getting heavy rag doll vibes

Will purposely get you rilled up and jealous before slipping away before you can reach him essentially a game of cat and mouse

when you finally catch him you’re grabbing him by the back of his neck to a bathroom or alleyway

“You wanna be a fucking whore I’ll show you what they get” You hissed and he’s more than aroused as you pull down his trousers him thinking he was about to get the roughest railing/fingering of his life just for you to land a harsh slap on his ass!?

Rock hard.

“Please ‘m sorry, please” Would end up crying cause it hurt yet felt so good

brain was foggy asf

When you deemed it enough for now you pulled his pants back up dragging him back to whatever function you were at ignoring his subtle gestures to get you both back to his side place

You force his ass to go sit tf down somewhere 💪🏽‼️🦅

Smirking like a mf when you watch him subtly groan feeling the distance stinging pain on his ass while trying to get through the conversation

#3; Being/having a cum dump

This is kinda icky for some people and I get it so read with caution ⚠️

Not only is he going to fill you up!? He’s going to plug you up .

Will literally make you go out all day with your cum in him

If you’re a spidey?

Will have your walking around the spider society looking a bit “bloated” little does everyone know you’re literally plugged with Hobies loads

Or when you’re at home will come behind you and rub his palms over your full belly

Feral.

But sometimes he need to be check so switch the roles

How this would happen is, he would talk big shit and place a bet of who was gonna cum first when both of you had a vibrator pressed against your designated places

He lost.

Would definitely try to hit you with that “I don’t believe in loosing 🙄” shit

But

A bet is a bet

And so

For a whole 24 hours both of you having to go on a mission that day he had dildo shoved up his ass

It’s very funny seeing him slightly limp when he walks as the fake cock sits snugly in his ass kissing his prostate at any slight turn or bumb in the road or when he turns the corner too sharply while swinging

by the end of the day HES DEAD.

would definitely do it again

🕷️Location

Boobs.

🕷️Motivation

When you hype yourself up or carry yourself with confidence!?

Hobies like

🗣️ “SIGN ME TF UP!”

Gets off on it so quick

🕷️No

This might be a little controversial and me self projecting but

Do not pull his hair.

His wicks are very delicate and as POC Caribbean native/Black to be specific not a big fan when it comes to messing with our hair

Scratch his back, slap him, spank him, choke him, anything else but pulling his hair.

🕷️Oral

Oral fixation

On some rough nights where he can’t sleep!? His moth will end up on your clit/cock

Is a Cock/Pussy drinker!

Holds down your thighs when you cum and he keeps going to keep you from retreating or bucking your hips

Gives head for his own pleasure tbh

🕷️Place

EVERYWHERE

Will fuck you anywhere and everywhere grinning like the god damn chesire cat

We’re gonna get more into this in ‘Risk’

🕷️Quickie

Absolutely

Behind stage before he goes on will without a doubt have you propped up against something fingering you at an alarming rate

“Gotta make sure my fingers don’t cram up yeah?”

🕷️Risk

What we’ve all been waiting for 🙀

You’ve probably fucked all over London and New York if you’re a spidey person lmao

One of the most jaw dropping places you’ve both had sex was probably the top of an abandoned building as the sun was beginning to set

“See tha’? Almost looks as pretty as you lovie” Hobie muttered thrusting his cock into your hole as your hands grip onto the railing moaning breathlessly before he groans from behind

Then probably an alley

“Shut up before you get us caught, but you would like that wouldn’t you?” You hissed your back pressed against the cold stone wall while Hobie thrusted into you hips bucking occasionally letting out a too loud whine

If you’re a spidey you’re really just talking because your senses would guide you to when someone’s coming or not

Hobie usually is able to sense it to but he’s seems too fucked out to even care

ONCE YALL DID IT IN A POOL BATHROOM!?

“Baby we can’t there’s to many kids around here”

Hobie is the #1 🗣️ “FUCK THEM KIDS” cheerleader

Does not, will not, still can’t not seem to give a single fuc-

🕷️Sext

Yes

You have made him cut band practice short more times he cares to count

‘3 attachments 1 video’ just something to get you through until practice is over <3

IS GETTING TF ON

Coming home to you with a pep in his step

He has and will send you videos of him jerking himself off when either of you are on missions or if you’re at work

“See how fuckin’ hard I am for you birdy? Cock misses you s’much we need you” You can hear his gruff voice cracking behind the camera as he strokes his cock running his thumb over his slit

He will send you whimper audios once every blue moon

anyways both of you guys are yummy!

🕷️Toys

Yes, yes, and yes

I have plenty examples already

So we’re just going to leave this as yes

…

Tbh he has a fuckin VARIETY

Stop I need to go now 😔✋🏽

🕷️Unfair

The biggest fucking tease ever

If you can keep up with him it’s for the greater good if you can’t, you must be left to the wolves 😖

One time you came home from Work/patrol tired as ever and he was on you the minute you were in the door

“Not tonight hon I’m too tired” You muttered taking your shoes off my the door followed along by your jacket etc

“I’ll do the work you can just flop down and star fish it out” You we static at the thought

Just for this mf to deny you at least four time before you fucking lost it flipped positions shoving his face in the mattress all tiredness out the window

“Said you were gonna take fucking care of me but since you wanna be a little whore we’ll see how you like it”

It was a long night

🕷️Volume

Hobie can be very vocal when he wants Mewls, moans, cries, whimpers, whines you name it

He knows his sounds get you off but sometimes he’ll be an asshole brat and keep them from you

But you’ll fix that shit up real quick I believe in you!

🕷️Wild Card

HIM AMD HIS BAND FUCKED/FUCKS.

🕷️X ray

He’s definitely a shower!

7.5 inches 8 when he’s hard

🕷️Yes

Mark him up

Hickeys, hand prints, bruises he needs it all

Does the same for you

Especially if you’re a spidey the bruises won’t stay long with your inhuman abilities

So y’all are running back to each other when they quickly begin to fade

🕷️Zzz

Hobie thinks he’s nocturnal

He’s not sleeping on the normal night so he’s not really sleepy on a intimate one either before he met you

Only time he’s really knocked is if he was in a subier space

Which he’s commonly in

So you’re putting him to sleep one way or another

💌💌💌💌

Oh wow funny seeing you here after two weeks 😅

I have so many drafts of my baby Hobs

Anyway if you could answer the poll down below much would be appreciated!

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

So, About the Original Look my Way

-and why it's a heel-face-turn villain redemption song. What the fuck, you ask? Oh, please, let me ramble. Drop everything you know about Our Stolas for a second. Blank slate. So, originally, Stolas was a villain. The entire reason that he became a protagonist was that Vivz and Bryce thought he and Blitz would make a cute couple, and he was re-voiced and re-worked into the Stolas we know and love. So take that into consideration listening to the original Just Look My Way, particularly with it's lyrics. "My little imp, why must you be so...difficult?" This is not a loving or affectionate statement. This is pure frustration and annoyance; not to mention the ownership and lack of personalization in the phrasing. It's a possessive diminutive. He also refers to Blitz as Blitzy at the end of this monologue, a nickname Blitz openly dislikes and expresses annoyance over (this song came out around Harvest Moon Festival/Truth seekers, so that would have been a Known Thing by the fandom at the time.) 'Come now, my little impish plaything, we've both made our choice.' This is someone trying to talk sense into someone else. You knew what you were getting into, you chose this, you chose me, stop being a pain in the ass and do/give me what I want. Stop being hard to understand and frustrating. Again with the diminutives, too- 'little', 'plaything'. 'My'. Possessive. He's frustrated, upset, and confused; trying to talk sense into 'his little imp' who is refusing to give him what he wants. 'I can give you what you need'- I can give you anything, everything, just let me. Then we get to the middle of the song. He's breathless, confused, and angry. Just say it, Blitzy, I deserve that at least, don't I? Entitled and demanding, even angry, though it's born of frustration and confusion. And it leads to the abrupt, jarring realization. The heel-face-turn. This unspoken contract

A deed we forged for mutual gain

If that's all this was when you're not here

What is this rooted pain? And here we go. He's not felt like this before, not for or with anyone- save maybe Octavia- and now there's a twisting in his chest, a knot in his stomach, a longing and an ache and nothing he does fixes it. Gets rid of it. He wants, he hurts, and that's new and confusing. 'Cause I'm terrified. He's feeling feelings. This is probably as scary for him as it is Blitz, because quite frankly he's also been taught that being anything other then a perfect model Goetia, controlled and cold and better then anyone and everyone around them, is not ok.

Unless it's me?... A real-time-realization that he's been a prick. That he's abandoned his daughter in favor of this situationship and his own pleasure. That he's treated Blitz like a toy and a favored pawn. That he's been missing a lot, so wrapped up is he in his own desires, thoughts, and wants. And no matter what in this world I can give

It's not enough to get through the walls you conjured up to live Is this how she'd feel?

Finally, finally, stepping outside his own head and connecting to the fact that he's been making other people- not just Blitz- feel like shit. The face-turn part. I have to do better. I have to be better. Abandoned all alone and left to fend For herself? For some semblance of happiness that doesn't have to end? He's still a sad, lonely figure, and he knows what it feels like to feel cold, alone, uncared for. And he's made Octavia feel that way. He's fucked up royally, no pun intended. I will try to make amends. And there it is. He has, in real time, realized that he's been a selfish prick and also that he's gone and fallen head-over-heels for this little imp he's in this little transactional fuck with, and he's got some 'splanin to do to both of them. I think this Stolas is 'canon/relevant' up to Truthseekers; at least to some degree. Obviously he hasn't been 'evil' or a villain since the pilot, but I do think some of this mentality is still with him until that point. In our, official Look My Way, he's already grown- he doesn't need to have a real time realization of anything because he's already realized it. The official Look My Way is a far more traditional I love you and I want to make my mistakes right song, because he's already realized he made mistakes and cares about Blitz. Anyway, I don't really know how to end this rant so, uh, that's it, I guess. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk?

[olivereliocorcordium1983]

If that whole thing about Kylie not allowing Selena to take a pic with Tim is true let me just say flat out that if I was Tim I would drop this woman instantly.

This is why I can't stand jealous people. I myself have been guilty of this at one point, however jealous people= breeds heavy insecurity.

Jealous people are not cute,it's not romantic, jealousy is not a cute trope. it is an emotion that really serves no purpose in my eyes. it's childish, it's highschool petty behavior. grass seems greener on the other side stuff until you actually see what the other side has and then you regret it or you don't.

I can understand if someone gives a reason for you to feel insecure about yourself. That is why I always say NEVER trust the WORDS that come from someone's mouth ALWAYS look at their ACTIONS they scream much louder.

You aren't about to tell a grown ass man that he can't take a picture with his best friend. They have been friends for a while and I'm sorry but bros before hoes always!

And if some one like Kylie were to tell my best friend no. which really isn't her place to start with it's Tims. I would take a step back and be like "okay, first off who are you?"

It is not about you Kylie! It 👏is 👏NOT👏about 👏you!👏 It is about Timothee you are only there because he invited you to go with him. which in my personal opinion he should have said no.

entitled people make me laugh I'm more heartbroken for Tim and Selena.

I really hope that this Kylie bs stops soon and that Tim drops this woman quickly. No one should control someone, there is a huge difference between asking a partner to not do something to give them peace of mind it's called loyalty, respect and taking your partners feelings into consideration before you do something.

But being a flat out controlling, "everything needs to be about me" toxic person. No that's not good at all.

Am I jealous of Kylie hell no! but Timothee from what I have seen is not the type of person to diss miss anyone whether it's a fan or his friends. He is ways right there in the middle of it to give them what they want or need as a good friend does within reason.

So the fact that he didn't do much of anything shocks me.

If you have good friends you need to take care of them especially when they are there for you. Having a girlfriend or a boyfriend can be exciting I get it but if you fuck over your friends for that Kardashian/Jenner "my shit don't stink cuz I come from a wealthy family bs and have your head shoved so far up her ass those friends will abandon you.

Your friends (the good ones) stay forever until you give them a reason to leave you. boyfriends and girlfriends don't stay forever if they do (that is rare as fuck nowadays) and Timo if you have learned anything from Armie anything at all don't mess with women like the Kardashians they will ruin your life without even lifting a finger.

[bxriles]

I’d like to have a general discussion on fanfiction and the nature of reviews. Please continue reading if you feel like it.

These comments/reviews don’t typically bother me. Honestly, this one is particularly boring. I once had someone DM me a goddamn 2 page paper how much they DESPISED my Tobirama story (which has since been taken down). I’ve gotten a decent amount of these comments. I had numerous people pick apart my Rosinante story and critique my writing as if they were Lord Byron. My personal favorite was on my Shisui story (you can still see it in the final chapter) where someone said, “now that I think about, it was the pacing that kept me from dropping since it definitely wasn’t the amateur plot.” And I would just like to point out the following:

I primarily write OC stories and one thing I’ve learned since being in fandoms since 2010 is that people hate OC stories. Not a big deal. I write what I like, you read what you like. Those don’t always match up and that’s fine! If you hate OC stories, then do not read them. I don’t understand why you need to send me a novel on how much you HATE my OC (this happened on my Tobirama story). Close out the fic and move on.

Fanfiction is free. I am not a professional author. I am a CPA & CFP. 99.99999% of fanfic writers are not professional authors. We do this for fun and because we like contributing to the fandom. I do not expect to read fics with the prose of Charles Dickens or Patrick Rothfuss or Jane Austen. If you think something is “too amateur” for you, then close out of it and move on.

I am a grown ass woman and I have thick skin. These comments may make me roll my eyes, but they don’t hurt my feelings the way they might hurt someone else’s. It makes me sad to see these comments because if I’m getting them, then I KNOW that some young kid out there is also getting them. That kid is getting bitchy feedback on their work that they are SO excited (and maybe a little nervous) to share. It hurts my heart to think that people are out there, doing this sort of thing for fun, and then get asshole responses. That’s the kind of thing that could make someone completely give up on something they love.

Finally, if you don’t like the fic or feel like it’s “cringey” then do not read. I have certain fic tropes that I cannot read because they make me cringe to death. I do not leave punk ass comments on someone’s story telling them I thought their story was hot garbage. I close out of it and move on.

I just don’t get it, y’all. Some of you are so entitled and rude that it makes me feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. No one is putting a gun to your head and telling you to read a fic you think is bad. No one is forcing you to leave your negative opinions on a piece of content that you got for FREE. Some of y’all also act like you’re so well read too when you and I both know you’ve read NOTHING but Cassandra Clare and SJM for the last 7 years.

I know all of this has been said before but I felt the need to say it now like I’m all y’all’s big sister. Grow up. Close out of a fic if you don’t like it and keep your snarky ass opinions to yourself. If you want “real literature,” put down the fanfiction and go pick up The Count of Monte Cristo or Canterbury Tales.

[imagine-silk]

Secretary!Spiderman (5 Versions)

MCU!Peter

Ask him for an inch and he'll give you a mile. He has a need to prove how good at his job he is. Have a headache? Here's some pills, water, and drink this herbal tea while he closes the blinds. PowerPoint break on you the day before the meeting? He'll get Ned from IT and stay to rewrite anything that wasn't salvageable. Need help getting out of being roped into extra work? You can't, you promised your mother to visit.

He'll always answer your calls, even if it was in the middle of the night. MJ and Ned call him excessive but he just brushes it off as doing his job. Even if you tell him to chill out it won't do much.

Peter 2 and Peter 3 tease him quite a bit due to him being younger, but they're still thick as thieves. It's not uncommon to see them together, usually comparing bosses, trading stories.

TASM!Peter

He's very much like a trusted gossipy friend. He'll fill you in on office gossip so you don't step on a social landmine but also so you can know about the lives of your employees. People shouldn't be scared of you, you're awesome. And helps keep the peace.

He talks to you more like an equal. Most people just think he's your friend rather than your assistant. You guys are very comfortable and considerate with one another and others just assume your old pals. Some people even suspect he's your boyfriend. Most of the time he'll say he wishes and continue, but if there's a couple discount at lunch he's like, "Hey Babe, my boy/girl/dude, my partner in crime, the person I have committed to and will be my love for all eternity, what do want to order?"

However he can change in an instant. Whenever someone important is around he is the embodiment of professional. 'Sit up straight, relax your face, and communicate.' as he would say. But the second they're gone you talk about the encounter, whether it was good or bad.

Trilogy!Peter

The most responsible and professional. He seems to do his job with effortless grace. He's just so put together and takes care of things when they pop up. Everyone wonders why he stays as a secretary to which he laughs. He just likes his job. That and you give him great benefits.

Does have his quirks at the office, an entitlement that comes with years on the job. If you ever need a cover, fear not! Man skips fake boyfriend and goes straight to 'We've been married for six years and are considering adopting' without blinking. All calls go to him first so he thwarts any unwanted calls, "I'm sorry but [Name] is busy at the moment. But I can take a message." If he sees you stressed he just massages your head and shoulders.

He laughed rather boisterously when he first met the other two Peter Parker's. Like really, what are the odds? Will also rope the Peters into his cover stories. Just adopts them. "This is Peter, my son." Peter 1 visible confusion. "This is my cousin, also Peter." Peter 3 shrugs, "Yup, that's me."

Peter B. Parker

The most unorthodox but is a huge help. He knows things are going to happen before they do. He's almost omniscient. He has a lot of experience and has had very bad mistakes bite him in the ass. He has an apathy for annoying high-and-mighty types. Straight up goes 'Uh-huh' with the face of a man who truly doesn't give a fuck. But with everyone else who are trying to work he helps, even if it's not really his job.

Will take you out. For lunch, to bars, or even to a boxing gym. Seriously, packs a gym bag for you so you have no excuse. He says you can't just have work, it's not healthy. You did find it strange at first but now you would both turn down a date for your weekly movie night. At this point, something happens and you're expecting to go out, good or bad.

Calls you Kid. No matter how much younger him. Two days? Twenty years? Doesn't matter. He only drops the name when Miles joins the company.

He also heard about three Peter Parker's at a sister location. Like what?

Miles Morales

When his gets in the zone his work is immaculate. However out of that he's a bit clumsy. Sometimes he reminds you off the running rabbit, he's not late but he always thinks he is.

His family will sometimes drop by the office and everyone loves them. Whether it's his dad, mom, or little cousins. If you're closer to his age he'll introduce you as his genius cool boss. If your closer to Peter's age he'll introduce you as his work Mom/Dad/Parent with Peter. Needless to say, they love you.

He tries to be cool at first but he can't stand being professional all the time. He finally lets the facade go when you ask him to be more relaxed. The next day you left sunflowers on his desk, because he was obsessed with the song. When reviewing the files he gave you there was an extra paper with a drawing of you with sunflowers. He was very embarrassed seeing it on your desk after looking for it.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 15

Hannibal gives y/n an idea and y/n negotiates.

@viviace @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

Aftercare was Hannibal's favorite part of the evening. He loved to spend long, indulgent hours pampering his darlings. But usually, there was only one. And that was Will. And Hannibal's clawfoot bathtub, although beautiful, was not big enough for both of you at the same time. Meaning, you had to take turns.

You and Will argued back and forth about who was in more desperate need of aftercare; each advocating for the other, of course. That was Hannibal's fault, really. He should have known better than to ask you to make a decision.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up and arms soaked to the elbow. "Who is first?"

Before you could speak, Will shoved you forward. "She is."

Hannibal knew better than to let the argument go on, and so did you. You followed him into the bathroom, the smell of lavender bath salts filling the air.

He removed your fluffy robe and watched you step into the warm bath. The water was just hot enough to soothe the aches in your muscles. Hannibal took his seat at the end of the tub where you rested your head. You leaned back and submerged your whole body. 

“You have such soft hair.” Hannibal said, pouring a bit of expensive-smelling shampoo in his palm. 

“Thanks, I use fabric softener and tumble dry it on low heat.” You answered. 

“You have a hard time accepting compliments, don’t you?” He probed, beginning to lather the shampoo into your hair. “Between that and the self-deprecation, I’d say you suffer from low self-esteem.” 

You felt yourself melting into him. The hypnotic motions of his hands chipped away at your defenses. “Is that really that surprising?” 

“For such an intelligent, sophisticated young beauty?” Hannibal chuckled. “I am surprised you don’t understand your worth.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” You offered. “The fact that a psychotic cokehead fundamentalist Christian cult leader wants me dead tells me I’m doing something right.” 

“You are a force of nature, my indulgence.” Hannibal assured you, still massaging your head. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know your power.” 

That got you thinking. Would it be so bad to just find a hunting rifle and blow Chase Mulvaney’s head off? What was stopping you? It certainly wasn’t your conscious. All your remaining moral fiber had been ripped to shreds over the course of the last month. 

“Tell me something about yourself, Hannibal.” You said, leaning back.

“What would you like to know?” He asked, retracting his hands. He cupped his hands in the water and poured some over your hair. 

“Do you ever think about morality?” You said, bluntly. 

The question pleasantly surprised him. “Quite a bit, actually. I like to think of myself as a student of philosophy, which deals heavily with the subject of ethics, human behavior, and yes, morality.” 

“Do you believe morality is subjective?” you tilted your head. 

“There’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” Hannibal smiled. “Those who think otherwise usually exemplify some of the best arguments for subjective morality.” 

“Religious nuts like Chase Mulvaney.” You said. “He and millions of others believe in objective morality, but can’t even keep it consistent among themselves.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispered. “You don’t have to wait for aftercare to talk philosophy with me. I would be happy to do so anytime.” 

You spent a half hour in the bath, Hannibal stroking, kissing and cuddling you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the affection, your mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was just a hyperfixation, or post-multiple-orgasm clarity, but the only thought in your head was that Chase Mulvaney had to die. 

Your train of thought was chugging along smoothly until it was derailed by the violent buzzing of your phone against the tile floor. You leaned over the side of the tub, trying to make out the contact name from across the room. 

Hannibal dried his hands on a nearby towel and picked the phone up from the ground. 

“Who is it?” You asked. 

“This number is logged into your phone as just a picture of a...red demon?” Hannibal answered. 

“Oh, yeah.” You dropped your head. “I’ll call her back, just let it ring out.” 

“Who’s the demon?” Hannibal chuckled. 

You stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. “Just somebody I know from work. Probably calling about covering a shift or something.” 

“Would that be the same person who believed I was the devil?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, watching you wrap the towel around yourself.

You were about to say yes, but caught yourself. “No. Just some lady I work with who always refused to share her tips with the buses. Super entitled, total pain in the ass. I’ve been looking for an excuse to tell her off.” 

“Well, we can’t keep you from that, now can we.” Hannibal cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at your face admiringly. “There should be a clean nightgown for you on the bed. Please tell Will I’ll be ready for him in a couple minutes.” 

“Wow, you really did think of everything.” You rocked back on your heels and swung to your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let him know.” 

He kissed you back. “Thank you, my indulgence.” 

“Just one more thing.” You stopped in the threshold. “Could I please use your computer?” 

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal looked up from the quickly draining tub. “By all means, what’s mine is yours.” 

You smiled and blew him a kiss before absconding into the bedroom. 

The nightgown he’d laid out for you had far more ruffles and lace than you’d consider appropriate for sleepwear, but it was comfortable and fit you well. 

You passed the message along to Will, but hurriedly. You were in a rush to be alone. You had some business to attend to.

You sat at Hannibal's desk, turned on his lamp and logged into your google drive on his computer. While you waited for the content to fully load, you scrolled through your contacts. When you found the demon, you pressed the green dial button.

It didn't take her long to pick up. "[F/N]! Finally, I've been trying to call you all night."

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes. "Some of us have lives to live. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"No need to be snippy." She scolded. "I have an offer for you."

"If it doesn't involve a portion of ad revenue, I'm not interested." You shook your head. "I'm not settling for a flat fee while you make the real money off my experience. My goddamn trauma."

"Sounds like we woke up and chose bitchy today." She teased. "You're not even going to hear me out?"

"Freddie," you began, pulling up a document on the computer. "I happen to have a four-page, comprehensive statement of what happened that night right here. Half of it was cut out for the FBI report."

You could practically hear Freddie drooling already. "And?"

"I won't accept anything under $1200 for it." You finished. "Or 30% of all ad revenue on this article."

"That's not fair." She protested. "Best I can do is $750."

"You made ten times that off my first article." You leaned back in the chair. "Don't try to lowball me, Lounds, I can do this all night."

"Since when were you the assertive type?" She asked, deflecting the conversation.

"Remember when you told me my fifteen minutes of fame was running out and you were my only option to get my story out there?" You recalled.

"At the time, I was right." Freddie contested.

"That was before Chase went from a cokehead to a domestic terrorist." You said. "Now I actually can take it to a more reputable outlet."

"But here you are anyway." She said. "Extorting a small, woman-owned independent news site just for the hell of it. I've got bills to pay, y'know."

"With gaslighting like that, I'm sure they're astronomical." You rolled your eyes. Sighing, you propped your knees against the desk. "Look, I don't hate you, Freddie."

"I don't hate you either." She agreed. "I thought trashing each other was just our mutual love language."

"The only reason I'm considering TattleCrime at all is you." You admitted. "You're loud and unapologetic and it makes people listen to you. I need someone who can take the heat."

"Because you know that mainstream news outlets are going to cut your writing down to maintain the status quo." Freddie finished your thought.

You pursed your lips. "Exactly. You're the only one who's got the cajones to run the whole story."

"I'm flattered." She said, then paused. "If I move some things around, I can probably get you $1000."

You opened a new tab and typed some words into the search bar. You scrolled through the results, leaving Freddie without an answer.

"Hello?" She said. "[F/N]? Did I lose you?"

"How soon can you pay?" You asked.

Your phone buzzed. You had a notification from paypal. A thousand dollars from Fredrica Lounds.

"Right fucking now." She answered.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said, firmly. You typed out Freddie's email address and pushed send. "It's all yours."

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Four}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Getting out of the lease on her townhouse proved to be easier than Nesta had expected. Her landlord was extremely understanding, especially under the conditions. She’d lived in the same place since she was in college, had never given him any trouble. She took care of her own problems, called her own plumbers and electricians, and had always taken it upon herself to fix anything that was wrong, rather than on his dime.

He’d even gotten her a parting gift on the day she moved everything out. A beautiful bouquet of flowers, and his condolences on her family’s loss.

As it was, mostly everything was moved into a storage unit, thanks to the furniture Rhys and Feyre already had in their home. But her clothes and some select important things came with her. 

It felt strange, at first, the moment Nesta carried Nyx through the door. She had just slept there, of course, but it was different this time. 

This time, Nesta was moving in to stay. 

This was no longer Feyre and Rhysand’s house, but Nesta and Cassian’s…and it felt strange, surreal. 

A thump came from upstairs that nearly had Nesta yelping. Nyx looked up at her and her startled expression and blew a raspberry. “What was that, hmm?” Nesta asked, quietly, setting her bag down as she closed the front door with her foot. She carried Nyx up the stairs and rounded the corner to the master bedroom to find Cassian staring at the mostly empty closet with his hands on his hips. “Find something interesting in there?”

“Shit!” he cursed, spinning around to find the pair in the doorway. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Nesta said, plainly. “Especially when it’s in my room.”

Cassian’s brows shot into his hairline. “I’m sorry…your room?”

“Yes,” she said, swapping Nyx from one hip to the other. “I’ve been staying here for nearly three weeks at this point. I’ve been the one here taking care of him.”

“So that entitles you to the master bedroom?” He asked.

“It does,” she replied and Nyx began squirming. She put him down and he began crawling towards Cassian, tugging on the strings of his boots.

Cassian stooped down to pick the baby up, who instantly began patting Cassian’s face, a habit he’d picked up just before Rhys and Feyre’s accident. Cassian grinned down at him, but then he looked back to Nesta. The smile fell as he beheld Nesta watching him with her arms crossed.

Cassian sighed. “Look-.”

“No, no,” Nesta interrupted. “I’m taking this room. I need the space, and I’m a woman, so I would prefer the private bathroom.”

Cassian watched her for a long moment. “Fine.” Nesta was about to turn on her heels to get the rest of her belongings, but then Cassian continued, “But, you have to say please.”

Nesta tensed in the doorway. “What?”

“Say please and it’s yours,” he said, shrugging.

Nyx looked back and forth between Cassian and Nesta.

She blinked, staring at him.

“You heard me,” he said, leaning down to grab his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the floor. He hefted it onto his other shoulder, Nyx still staring between them. “Say please and the room is yours. And make it genuine, I want to believe you.”

“And if I don’t?” She asked, bracing herself for a fight.

He shrugged and tossed his backpack onto the bed. “Then it looks like we’re sharing. Just so you know, I’m a blanket hog.”

She narrowed her eyes, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed, plopping Nyx down on the mattress next to him. He crawled up to the top of the bed, plopping down atop one of the pillows.

Cassian could have sworn her teeth were grinding as she said, “May I please have the bedroom?”

He smirked, asking, “Was that so hard?” and stood, grabbing his bag again, before brushing past her as he headed down the hall, taking the room across from Nyx’s nursery.

Nesta groaned, closing her eyes and sighing, before she heard the door opening downstairs.

“Hello, hello!”

She scooped Nyx up off the bed, and made her way downstairs, finding Elain, Azriel, Gwyn, Mor and Emerie in the entryway. Mor was wiggling her fingers at Nyx, and Nesta handed him over to her. He giggled as she lifted him in the air and Nesta hugged her friends. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course,” Emerie said, taking a look around. “You shouldn’t do this alone.”

Nesta nodded and another thump came from upstairs. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Cassian’s here already, then?” Azriel asked.

“He’s here and he’s driving me mad,” Nesta muttered. 

Azriel chuckled as he hurried up the stairs, leaving the women alone.

“Okay,” Gwyn said, propping her hands on her hips and looking around. “What do you need us to do?”

Nesta hesitated. There was so much already in this house that felt like it belonged there, so much of Rhys and Feyre that Nesta didn’t feel like she should touch.

As if she was reading her thoughts, Elain stepped forward, slipping her arm through hers. “This is your home now, too. Part of them will always be here, but you have to make it yours now.” Nesta nodded, wiping away the damn tears that kept making an appearance, but jumped slightly when a loud bang came from upstairs and Azriel and Cassian both laughed. Elain added, with a laugh of her own, “Yours and Cassian’s, I guess.”

“I wish I would stop being reminded of that fact,” Nesta said, attempting a joke as she continued to wipe at her damp cheeks. 

“Ignore Cassian?” Emerie chuckled. “That’s impossible. He likes to make himself known too much for that.”

After a chorus of laughter, Nesta was giving everyone a role. It was all just so surreal, too surreal. It was a position that Nesta would have never imagined herself to be in, especially as she opened Feyre’s closet and stared. 

Nesta had always admired Feyre’s style, even though most of her jeans had paint splatters on them. She reached up to go through the series of band tees hanging on the top rod. She chuckled at one from the Jonas Brothers concert that they’d gotten back in 2011. Nesta had taken Elain and Feyre one weekend when their dad was out of town on business. She’d bought them both t-shirts and cds and overpriced sodas from the arena’s concession stand. 

It had been a good night.

And Feyre had kept the t-shirt for ten years, even though there was a coffee stain on Nick Jonas’ face and a rip in the hem. Nesta took the shirt off the hanger and held it up. It was too small for her. It would never fit.

Nonetheless, Nesta folded the shirt neatly and put it on top of the dresser before taking down the rest of Feyre’s clothes and folding them into a bin.

She hadn’t realized the tears had returned until Emerie and Gwyn came in, the former holding a sleeping, drooling Nyx. 

Feyre’s closet had been nearly emptied. Neither of Nesta’s closest friends said a word as they entered and sat next to Nesta on the bed, one of them on each side.

Silently, they pulled Nesta into their arms.

*

Cassian looked at the broken bed frame in the guest room. 

He and Azriel started roughhousing the moment he’d come up the stairs, and it resulted in the old, rickety bed unable to hold two untamed Illyrians.

Does this mean I won?

You’ve never won in a wrestling match with me, Cass.

Looking at it now, however, Cassian was wondering how he’d take the rest apart without waking Nyx up from his afternoon nap.

“How many times have we slept in this room after a night of drinking too much?” Azriel asked.

Cassian chuckled from where he was putting his clothes in the small, empty dresser. “Too many. Feyre wouldn’t let us drive after even one drink at dinner.”

Azriel chuckled, quietly. “She always was a mother hen, long before Nyx.” 

“She had to be,” Cassian said, “look at Rhys’s choice of friends.”

Azriel grinned. “Speak for yourself.” 

He snorted. “Need I remind you of Spring Break, senior year?”

The grin fell slightly into a cringe. “Okay, maybe there are times that I fall into that category as well.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. He looked back at the bed, even the bedding somewhat in shambles. “Haven’t even lived in the house for an hour and we already broke something.”

Azriel chuckled, following his gaze. “Rhys would be proud.”

Grinning, Cassian nodded. “Feyre would have our asses.”

They worked in silence, for a while, listening to the women’s voices throughout the house.

At one point, Cassian could hear Nesta sobbing quietly from the room down the hall.

His shoulders tensed.

Azriel must have seen it, because he cleared his throat. “You know, Elain says Nesta’s not so bad.”

“And what do you think?” Cassian asked, tossing his empty duffle bag in the corner. 

Azriel was quiet for a moment then shrugged. “I’ve never had an issue with her.” Cassian huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, you never have issues with anyone.” He shook his head as he leaned back against the wall. “I feel like I’m living a dream right now. I have no idea what’s happening, and it’s all happening way too fast.”

It was happening far too quickly. Everything. All of it.

Cassian felt like he was in the middle of a hurricane, lost and alone and confused with no end in sight.

*

Everyone had left, and only the three of them remained.

Nesta, Cassian, and Nyx.

Nesta realized this is how it would be from now on, and that realization made her chuckle out of pure absurdity. 

Cassian had asked to put Nyx to bed, and Nesta didn’t argue as he took him from her, from where Nyx had fallen asleep in Nesta’s arms on the couch.

She watched them disappear up the stairs, and she wasn’t really sure what to do after that, where to go. Should she just have gone back to her room, shut herself inside, and pretend that nothing else existed?

Cassian came back down the stairs just as Nesta stood up. As he reached the bottom, they acknowledged each other, uncomfortably.

“Well,” Nesta began, nodding slowly. “I guess I’ll be going to bed.”

Cassian didn’t say anything until she had brushed past him and gone halfway up the stairs. “Don’t you think that we should, you know, set some ground rules?”

She paused. “Like what?”

“Like who takes care of what?” He asked. “Who gets what nights off and-?”

“Nights off?” Nesta asked, blinking. “We have to take care of a child, Cassian. We don’t get nights off.”

“You know Az and Elain still go out once in a while. As long as one of us is here to watch him, he’s taken care of,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I would like to be able to go out on a Saturday night, with Az and Luce, so-.”

“Why would you get Saturday night?” She asked, her eyes widening. “I spend all day at the restaurant, all week long. If anyone gets Saturdays, it’s me. Besides, you’re a bartender, shouldn’t you be working those nights?”

“Friday nights are my money nights, so no, I’ll be off,” he said, crossing his arms. His legs widened slightly, and Nesta knew a fighting stance when she saw one.

“So I’m supposed to take Friday nights? How’s that going to work, if you’re at the bar, Cassian?” Cassian hesitated, and Nesta scoffed. “See? That won’t work.”

“You can take Sunday nights,” Cassian said, at last.

“The night before I have to wake up at five to be at the restaurant by six?” Nesta asked. “Oh, thank you so much for that kindness.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Your sarcasm isn’t necessary. And two minutes ago you thought the idea of a night off was ridiculous, anyway!”

“Well, if you get a night off, so do I!” Nesta yelled.

Cassian raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine. How about we switch saturdays? You get two Saturday’s a month, and I get two Saturday’s a month.”

She clamped her mouth shut, fighting the urge to grind her teeth together. “Fine.”

He nodded. “Fine.”

They both stayed where they were, not moving or giving up an inch of ground.

“I’m going to go to bed then,” she said, the bite still in her voice.

“Goodnight then,” he said, and though the words were civil, they were still sharp. It was almost humorous.

“Goodnight.” With that, she turned and was stomping up the stairs.

She could feel Cassian’s eyes on her and she disappeared.

The audacity. 

She was fully aware that Cassian was full of himself, but wanting every Saturday night off?

She knew it.

He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t ready for the responsibility of raising a child. She couldn’t expect him to be, though. Shit, she wasn’t ready, either. The only difference was that she was starting to learn all that being a guardian entailed and he surely was not.

She shut the bedroom door behind her, and considered locking it, but decided not to and looked at the clock.

it was barely eight-thirty, but she was exhausted. That had been the past few weeks though, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been awake at ten o’clock. She leaned against the shut door, letting her head fall back.

If she listened hard enough, she could hear him moving downstairs. Heard the fridge open and knew he was pulling one of Rhysand’s beers out. Nesta sighed, wishing she had thought to get at least a glass of wine before she’d shut herself in here.

If she went back out now, she’d look stupid. And she’d have to talk to Cassian again.

Not over her dead body.

So she did the next best thing, filling the massive garden tub in the corner of the bathroom, and settled into it. She sighed, letting the hot water seep into her bones.

And then there was a knock on the bedroom door.

She sunk deeper in the tub. “What?” She called, eyeing the open bathroom door.

There was a pause. “Is it time for Nyx’s bedtime bottle?”

Nyx was cut down to two bottles a day: one in the morning and one at night. Although he had been getting breast milk before the accident, Nesta had already worked through the remaining breast milk that had been in the freezer.

That morning had been his first formula bottle.

He’d been confused at first. Surely there was a difference in taste. However, Nyx eventually realized he wasn’t getting anything else and drank it down, anyway. 

“Was he fussing?” Nesta asked.

There was a thump against the door and Nesta assumed Cassian had fallen into it. “Yeah. Wasn’t crying, but he was about to.”

“Yeah. Formula is on the counter in the kitchen. Check his diaper first,” Nesta said.

She didn’t hear a response, so she assumed he’d gone to handle it, when a few minutes later another knock sounded. This time it was accompanied by a frantic crying.

She was out of the tub, grabbing a towel and digging through a box she’d packed the night before for her robe. Just as Cassian started talking, she got to the door, pulling it open.

He paused, taking in her attire, or lack thereof. Nyx was still crying, which knocked him back into motion. He raised his hand, holding up an empty bottle. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-.”

She took the bottle, shaking her head, and brushing past him to head down the stairs. She didn’t snap at him, not when she knew he’d never had to prepare a bottle before. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t irritated.

“You couldn’t read the directions on the back of the box?” she asked, then muttered. “Just like a man.”

When she looked back over her shoulder, Cassian was close behind, Nyx tugging on the end of his shaggy hair as he wailed. If he heard Nesta, he didn’t deign to reply. 

Nesta sighed, carrying the bottle over and filling it with water from a newly opened jug on the counter. “You don’t have to warm it up anymore. He can drink it with room temperature water. It’s pretty easy. Fill it up to the eight ounce mark on the bottle, measure four scoops of formula and dump them in.” She did just that, measuring out each scoop carefully but quickly. “Then shake.” She handed the bottle to Cassian, who started shaking the bottle.

“How long do I shake?” he asked.

Nesta almost wanted to laugh at how frantic, how wild-eyed he looked. Here was Cassian Nazari, shaking a bottle with a screaming baby on his hip. “That’s good. Just give it to the poor kid.” 

Nyx snatched it from Cassian as he lowered it towards his face, holding it on his own. Cassian’s hand hovered close by and he looked up at her. “Can he do that? I mean, should I let him? Or should I hold it?”

Her face softened as she watched her nephew, his tears stopping almost immediately. “He’s fine. Maybe use a hand to support it just in case, but he can handle it.”

He nodded, looking down at the baby as well. His blue eyes were wide as he watched them, glancing from Nesta to Cassian, and back.

He said, softly, “I wonder if he realizes they aren’t coming back yet.”

The words nearly broke Nesta’s heart. Her words were as quiet as his. “ I don’t know… That’s not exactly something you can explain to a one-year-old.”

His nod was slow. “It doesn’t seem fair. They didn’t deserve this.”

Nesta’s throat was tight as she started back toward the stairs. “Life isn’t always fair, Cass. The Cauldron isn’t always fair.”

[mauvecherie-writes]

Home This Christmas.

PAIRING: Dani [oc] x Michael B Jordan.

SUMMARY: Dani is weary that her fiancé won’t be home in time for Christmas but he makes sure that he’s there.

WARNING: 18+ fluff, sexual content, hormonal pregnant woman.

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

NOTE: micheal is not famous. this is not a request but a personal christmas present for my best friend @beautifullmelodyxx i love you so much!

“No, no, no. baby you promised me that you’d be on your way back and that you’d be in town by now!” Dani exclaimed as she slammed her fist against the steering wheel. Frustration quickly began to take over her body as she pondered on the words of her fiancé.

“I know babe and I’m really sorry but work has gone into overtime and I can’t stop it.”

“Michael Bakari Jordan, you are the CEO and owner of your company. You can delegate your power to your other admin and be on the first plane home.”

“Damn, not the full name.” He mumbled.

“I’m irritated Michael! You promised me that’d you’d be here tonight and I wouldn’t spend christmas eve alone and you’re about to break it.”

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. The client is being a pain to sign the contract and it’s causing everyone especially me. But you know I’m doing my best to speed up the process and come home to you.”

Dani screamed through her closed mouth. Yes, she was throwing a tantrum but it was all within good reason. Michael had not been home for a week and she was missing him terribly. Her pregnancy also made it extremely hard for her to control her hormones thus making her more needy than usual. She wanted Michael by her side and he wasn’t here which effectively added to the bad mood she was already experiencing from having to deal with entitled customers all day.

“You know what, I don’t want to call me unless you’re telling me you’ve landed and you’re coming home. Bye.” Dani did not give him time to respond before she ended the call and tightened grip around the leather of the wheel as tears pinched behind her eyes. She groaned before taking a deep breath and trying to calm her nerves as she pulled into the road that led to her home.

The black iron gates opened to her command after she pressed the fob on her keys. She parked her car and then got out, grabbing her office bags with her. As she stood up straight, the small rounded bottom of her belly was more prominent. At sixteen weeks, it was getting harder to hide her pregnancy as her emotions and cravings would often threaten to tell her secret. Dani and Michael had planned on revealing the news to their family during the swapping of gifts at Christmas tomorrow. However with the news that Michael dropped on her, it was looking like that plan was going to be pushed to the back burner.

Dani opened the front door with a heavy sigh as her shoulders slumped and leaned against the closed door before taking off her shoes and placed them onto the shoe rack by the door. She stalked further into their spacious home and placed her bags onto the couch before continuing her journey into the kitchen. Dani opened cupboards, grabbing her favourite snacks before jogging up the stairs.

She was stuffing her face with chips when she entered the master bedroom with an absent mind.

“Surprise!” A voice broke through the silent air which startled Dani so much, she screamed and dropped everything that was in her arms. With a hand on her chest, she focused on Michael’s figure that was standing in the middle of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a Christmas sweater.

“Fucking hell Michael!” She yelled at him and she rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes as she tried to control the anger that was already festering within her. His muffled laughter rang in her ears as he approached closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tightly against his chest as he rocked from side to side. He placed kisses on her cheeks and the side of her forehead.

“Hi baby.” He greeted Dani, his voice soft and mellow but she was not having it.

“You’re not funny.” She pushed him away and headed towards the bathroom but she could hear his footsteps behind her. “Don’t follow me, I’m mad at you right now.”

She entered the bathroom and began to run the water in the tub. After she dropped some bath salts and bubble bath soap, Dani stripped out of her clothes and put her locs into her bun on top of her head. She lathered her face in a mask and then finally sunk into the hot water. A soft hum came out of her as the warmth engulfed her.

Her eyes were still closed as she caught onto the scent of her fiancé before hearing the dragging of a stool towards the tub. Dani turned her head to the side and opened her eyes and welcomed the softness of Michael’s eyes.

“When did you get here?” She softly asked.

“A little after lunch. I initially thought about coming to your office and surprising you there but this seemed like a better idea. But now I’m starting to regret it.”

“You should. I was about to cry in the car. I really missed you.” Dani pouted which caused him to smile, showing his dimple.

“I missed you too.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips. She softly moaned as she held onto his cheek as she deepened the kiss but for a moment before pulling away. “Tantrums and all.” She tried to hide her smile as she rolled her eyes and moved back into her relaxed position.

“Whatever. I’m a pregnant hormonal woman and you’re not doing a very good job of making sure that I’m not stressed.”

His hand was in the water as he caressed her leg.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” The look in his eyes was full of temptation. He was trying to seduce his way out of trouble and Dani felt every fibre of her being wanting to give in but she wanted to make him sweat a little.

“You can start by cooking me something nice and quick.”

“Anything else?”

“I want the fireplace lit with a little set up in front of it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you do all of that, I might forgive you.”

Michael chuckled before capturing her lips once again.

“I‘ll do what I can.” Dani bit onto her lip as he watched him walk away. Her eyes narrowed on his ass and she moaned getting flashbacks of the day before he left for his trip. She remembered digging her manicured nails into the firm, muscled flesh of his ass. Now, her arousal began to rise which caused her to groan softly and close her eyes as the thoughts filled her mind.

She did not stay in the tub for more time than needed and took a quick shower before leaving the bathroom. Dani moisturised her skin and then got dressed in an old large shirt of Michael’s and a pair of red thongs and some warm, fluffy christmas socks. She neatly wrapped her hair and applied her night creams.

When she got downstairs, the scent of the food became stronger. Michael was standing by the counter as he dished the food. He made a quick meal of creamy ham and mushroom linguine with a side of wild green salad.

Dani’s mouth watered at the sight.

“This looks so good baby.” She commented as she sat at a stool by the counter. Michael pushed a plate towards her and poured her a cup of strawberry lemonade.

“Thank you.” He replied with another shared kiss before the couple indulged in their food. They shared stories of their work days — Dani’s being far more interesting as her career as an event planner led her to cross paths with peculiar people.

As it was Christmas, her and her team were organising annual Christmas parties for companies. Dani and her assistant were planning a party for a successful local law firm and they were having a problem with the firm’s representative and it took all of Dani’s customer service training to not blow off her top and refuse to work with her. However Dani’s company had an incredibly clean record with an impeccable reputation. Nothing, especially snotty, little entitled fund babies.

Michael laughed at all of her retelling and watched her with an awestruck look in his eyes. Together for four years and nothing about the way that he felt about her had changed, only intensified. Eating dinner with her before moving to the fireplace as the Grinch played lowly in the background made him appreciate the little things. These were moments that he never wanted to miss and he promised to himself that he never will.

He was leaning against the couch with Dani in between his legs. His hands were around her torso, hands on her belly as he listened to her ramblings about past christmases. As much as he was trying to listen to what she was saying, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her womb. His seed was growing in there. Their baby was within her and she was bringing life into their world and extending their family.

How could he not be in love with her? Dani trusted him so much that she was willing to give birth and be with him in matrimony. Michael had never experienced a love like this and he was never going to give it up.

“Are you even listening to me?” Dani asked as she shifted her head slightly to look at him.

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I was thinking about how in love I am with you.”

“Awe baby.” She cooed as she turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you so much.” Multiple kisses were placed on his jawline, tickling his skin causing him to laugh before turning his head and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. Her hands went to tug onto his small afro as the kiss intensified. He laid her down onto the blanket that was beneath them and made sure that he wasn’t applying too much pressure onto her lower abdomen.

His hands were on either side of her head as her legs shifted to being around his waist. He brought his weight down and pressed himself against her flimsily covered core. Dani whimpered into his mouth as her hands moved down his torso and pulled on his sweater. He stood on his knees and pulled it off his body before hovering above her and attaching his lips to her once more.

Her hips bucked upwards so as to build on the friction but Michael held her down by her arms before trailing his lips down her neck, the soft prickles of his beard rubbing against her skin caused her buried arousal to begin to arise once more. As he worked his way down her body, he pushed the shirt further up her body and took one of her nippled into his mouth.

“Fuck.” Dani gasped as she felt his tongue flick her sensitive nipple before sucking on it. Her pregnancy made everything much more sensitive which intensified every little thing. As she took off her shirt and dropped it onto the floor as Michael pushed her thighs apart and chuckled at the festive colour of her damp thongs.

“Did you put these on for me?” He mumbled against her thigh and bit into it as he pulled them down her legs before settling close to her pussy once again.

“I thought that they matched the festive spirit.” Dani replied, giggling as she felt his breath brush against her drenched core. She bit onto her lip as she leaned up onto her elbows and looked down at her fiance. The yellow lights of the Christmas tree illuminated onto his face before he used his tongue to lick clean her weeping nectar.

That’s when he lost himself in between her thighs. Using his skilful tongue, he would lick around her clit, flick it repeatedly before trailing down to her entrance and pushing his tongue in. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he paid more attention to her clit and began fucking her with his fingers which caused her moan to turn into screams.

She pulled on the blanket s beneath her as her orgasm began to rise.

“Oh baby, I’m going to cum.” Dani gasped as her thighs began to quake. Her orgasm gripped her body as she arched off the floor. He thrusted his fingers faster and faster into her, prolonging her climax for as long as her could before she finally pushed him away.

“Can’t take it baby?” He licked his lips as he took his trousers off and laid down on the floor and pulled her on top of him. Dani positioned herself properly and went in between her leg and wrapped her hands around his cock and stroked him softly. She watched as his chest raised up and down as he throbbed in her hand.

“You get too overzealous, my pussy is too tender for that.” She replied as she raised up and

began to sink down onto his thickness. Dani let out a sweet moan as he stretched her walls. She leaned forward and placed her hands onto his chest as she took deep breaths as Michael pushed deeper into her. He watched as she bit on her lip and her eyes fluttered close as she took all of him.

He groaned as he gripped onto her thighs as she snuggly fit around him. “But you’re not complaining when I’m deep inside of you.”

“Daddy.” Dani gasped as he lifted her hips and brought her back down onto him. The best thing was watching the faces she made as she used him for her pleasure. With every roll of her hips and each breathy moan that left her parted lips, Michael could feel the tug at the bottom of his stomach. When she was so consumed within the throes, Dani never called him by his given name, just Daddy. He loved hearing her call him.

His hand travelled to her breast and pulled on her nipple as he moved his hips to her pace.

“Fuck!” She groaned as she rolled her hips faster and faster, tightening her core around his cock causing him to growl beneath her. Dani opened her eyes and leaned down and took his bottom lip into her mouth as she began to bounce on him.

“You feeling good baby?” He mumbled against her lips as she looked into his eyes as his arms wrapped around her and he planted his feet onto the floor and thrusted harder into her causing her moans to turn into the screams. Her head was slightly above his as she pulled on the blankets. Their bodies moved in sync with each other as they chased their climax. Michael sat up and held onto the back of her neck as he branded her lips with his.

Embracing each other tightly, Dani continued moving her hips as their tongues passionately entangled as their moans blended together.

“Fuck baby, I’m going to cum.” He whispered against her lips.

“Cum in me Daddy, fill me up. Please, please, please.” Dani moaned as her walls clenched around him, eliciting a deep moan as Michael squeezed onto her ass as he held onto her body as he buried his seed deep inside of her. Dani whimpered as she let go of her inhibitions and trembled in his arms.

They held each other as they focused on calming themselves down. Michael laid back down with her still on top of him. Her eyes were closed as she listened to his beating heart. When her eyes opened, she caught sight of the erected Christmas tree.

“Oh god.” Dani groaned with a scoff. “We fucked in front of the Christmas tree like some cliche hallmark movie.”

“It’d be r rated just from your moans alone.” Michael replied as he ran his fingers up and down her back. Dani laughed as she playfully slapped his chest.

“Shut up.” She mumbled before cuddling into his body and closing her eyes as she felt her body relax. Christmas was looking up already...

[lovetorn]

Life Was A Willow [Part 3]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: It's always been hunters vs. witches, right? Not anymore.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings for Part 3: swearing & cute fkn shit

A/N: the final part, i'm weak :,) anyways, enough sap, i hope you guys enjoyed this series as much as i did writing it. i've been working on it for a long ass time and it's finally finished. thank you for everything, the feedback etc. it means so so much !! i hope you guys like the final part even though it’s a little rushed !!!

“Are you sure this is a good way to do it?” Dream asks, nearly running into Y/n as he turns around. “I don’t want to force this idea on people, they won’t like it.”

The witch nods, pushing the flyers into his chest. “We’ve talked about this Dream; we’re not shoving it down their throats. They can choose how to act when they see the posters.”

Dream grabs onto the papers as Y/n backs away, spinning to collect her sunhat and basket. “Let’s go!”

Making their way from the abandoned cottage, which they made their own little space, they walk towards the castle and small surrounding village. Y/n and Dream walk closer than usual, their hands brushing lightly. Birds chirp and fly around them, their singing lifting the spirits of the pair that stroll below them.

“Have you told Sapnap yet?”

Dream rolls his eyes and sighs deeply at the mention of his best friend. “No. I know how he gets with shit like this, so, I guess he’ll have to wait like the rest of the kingdom.” Y/n nods silently in reply and looks up at the blue skies.

“What do you think the moon is thinking right now?” Her question confuses Dream. “In relation to what we’re doing, of course.”

“I’d imagine he’s happy that we’re doing it—we’re making peace, aren’t we?” His answer pleases Y/n as he hoped it would. He hasn’t really thought about it before.

“I agree! I talked with him last night and he told me good things are coming.”

Dream looks at her incredulously. “You talked to the moon?”

“Of course I can. I’m a witch. What else am I supposed to do when he sits there in the sky? Ignore him?” A small smirk plays on her lips. Dream is unsure whether or not she’s messing with him but chooses to believe her, considering everything he’s learnt recently.

They walk further, nearly entering the kingdom village when a grey bunny hops onto the path and Y/n’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Honey!” Her voice is dripping with it.

Dream furrows his eyebrows when he sees she’s speaking to the rabbit. “What? You can speak to animals now?”

The rabbit’s nose twitches while Y/n approaches it, its eyes glistening in the sunshine. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me any of this? It’s cool.”

Y/n shrugs. “You never ask.”

Dream squints at her, watching as she runs her hand over the animal’s soft ears. He inches closer, catching the rabbit’s eye. Its body freezes at the sight of a human and Y/n coos, it’s okay, he’s my friend. Dream tilts his head and squats next to Y/n, reaching his hand out for her to take. Her fingers are gentle when she holds it, pulling him closer so he can pat the bunny. Its fur is softer than he thought and he melts when it stares at him with its big eyes. Awww, Dream breathes. He feels Y/n’s gaze on him before he blushes.

“Dream—”

Suddenly, the tranquil moment is cut with the kingdom bell and the bunny rushes away, ducking into a line of bushes. The pair jump at the sharp noise, Dream’s hand still sits softly in Y/n’s. He wonders what she wanted to say.

“We should go.” She whispers and Dream nods once, but neither one moves to leave. The sun beats down on his neck and Y/n’s hat sits sideways on her head, probably from when she ran towards the rabbit. Dream blinks and decides to leave it, she looks cute.

“Yeah, uh, let’s go.”

The walk through the gates goes smoothly, nobody suspects a witch amongst them as they walk in the crowd.

“Here.” Y/n points at a wooden lamp-post and Dream agrees. The first poster goes up and while they walk away, they hear mumbling from behind them. Craning his neck back, Dream sees people surrounding the poster already; some nod and some curse, but overall, it looks positive.

He leans down to Y/n’s ear. “I think people are going to show up.”

His breath on her ear and the rasp of his voice causes a shiver to go down Y/n’s spine. She turns her head to look at him and sees how close he is, and smiles. She hopes so.

—

“Citizens of Grogington, the war between magic kind and humans has gone on for far too long! Today, we will be presenting the idea of a truce between the two groups.”

Turns out, the entire kingdom showed up for Y/n and Dream’s proposal. The pair stand on a low podium in front of the castle and stare out into the sea of people. Dream spots Sapnap in the middle of the crowd, with the rest of the hunters, and could almost cry when he sees him smile and throw a thumbs up. Y/n stands next to him, her hand dangerously close to his. Her gaze drops to Wilbur who stands in the front row with Niki, despite the complaints from many people behind him—she nearly laughs at the height difference between him and the humans. But, Y/n feels a twinge of guilt when she watches him smile at her before he encourages her to continue.

The presentation continues and nobody leaves and everybody watches with intent. Y/n throws a glance at Dream while he’s explaining the truce and its outcomes. Her heart leaps into her throat when he notices and continues to turn his head to look at her too.

Although there will be a few people against the idea, the majority of the kingdom is keen on peace and that’s all they need to begin the revolution.

After the proposal, Dream helps Y/n off of the podium, her hand placed gently in his. “Dream!”

At the sound of his name, his real name, Dream smiles. George. There’s a patter of footsteps and then Dream is being jumped on by the Prince. Y/n giggles as she watches Dream wrap his arms around his best friend. “I can’t believe you would do this! You're crazy!”

Dream’s laugh is loud and Y/n wishes she could listen to it all day. Dream puts George’s feet back on the ground before he turns to her. “George, this is Y/n.”

Mischief swirls in the Prince’s eyes as his gaze lands on the witch. “Oh, I know. You’ve told me everything about her: the way her eyes look brighter in the moonlight and how her lips are the same colour as cherries—oomph.”

Dream darts his eyes at George, narrowly, his hand placed over his mouth. “Ha, ha, shut up!”

Y/n feels her cheeks heat up and she covers her smile with her palm. “That’s sweet.”

“That’s what he says about your laugh—stop!” George’s voice is muffled but Y/n still hears him and she gets giddy.

“Dream~” She sings. Dream’s cheeks are on fire and he swears the tips of his ears have burst into flames.

George still remains next to him. “Ok, I won’t embarrass you anymore, big man. You can remove your gross hand off my face now.”

Dream drops his arm and watches George hold his hand out for Y/n to take.

Y/n places her fingers in his and swoons when he brings her knuckles to his lips. Dream gets antsy when he notices Y/n giggle.

“Ok! That’s enough flirting, George.” Dream snatches Y/n’s hand from him and holds it by his side. George giggles from beside him.

“Dream, who doesn’t want to be kissed by the Prince?” She teases, reaching up to squeeze his cheek between her fingers. Dream rolls his eyes and swats her hand off his face.

“Dream!” Another voice interrupts them.

“Hey, Sap!” Although he’s excited to see his other best friend, Dream’s tone is wary. “What did you think of the presentation?”

Sapnap’s expression melts to one of awe. “Man, I loved it. I actually came over to apologise for everything I’ve said about it in the past and you know that I love you, and George, and I know I can be a bit of an idiot when it comes to things like this, but—” George slaps his shoulder.

“Ouch! Okay, okay. I’m sorry for being an entitled dick, and I fully support anything you want to do, Dream. You’re my best friend and I cannot let some outdated opinion be a burden to our friendship.”

Dream swears he feels his chest open up and admit the brightest light you’ve ever seen. His heart almost bursts at the sweet look on Sapnap’s face and tackles him into a hug. “Thank you, man.”

Dream unwraps his arms and sighs loudly. “Sapnap! This is Y/n, Y/n is this Sapnap.” Y/n raises her hand to wave at him, her smile beaming but mischievous.

“I know her already, she tied me to a tree,” He laughs, reaching his hand forward. Y/n giggles, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you properly and not when you’re using your cool witch powers to lift me off the ground.”

Y/n nods, her smile still shining. Dream’s heart rate skips as he looks at her. Her face is like the sun. He could stare at her all day and not care about the risk of going blind.

“Yes, Snapmap. I can call you that now, we’re friends!”

The group collectively laugh and they bid goodbye to George and Sapnap. Y/n turns to Dream. “I’m so happy they’re on board with it.”

“Of course George would be. I’m a little surprised about Sapnap, but, nonetheless, I’m ecstatic.”

Y/n takes his hands and brings them up to her mouth. “I’m so happy, Dream.” She places soft kisses on his fingers and then his knuckles. He watches in awe as she does so.

“Hey, Y/n!” Their moment is cut short as Dream twists to see a tall man and a girl walking towards them.

“Wil! Niki!” She releases Dream’s hands and circles around him to embrace the pair in a hug. “Did you like it?”

Her voice wavers slightly and Dream picks it up. Niki nods excitedly. “Yes! Oh my gods, Y/n!”

Niki’s enthusiasm rubs off on Y/n and she almost forgets Wilbur is standing next to her, he’s so silent. She’s nervous about his response.

Looking up at Wilbur, Y/n sees a soft smile on his cheeks. He pulls her into a hug immediately and Y/n wants to cry. “Thank you.” He whispers.

“You’re welcome.” She murmurs into his ear, and his grip tightens around her. Y/n knows why he’s thanking her but doesn’t elaborate to the others when they pull apart.

“We just wanted to come to say hello before we went back home,” Niki says, raising her hand to wave at Dream.

“Oh! This is Dream,” Y/n motions towards him and Wilbur nods once in greeting. “He did most of this, you should be thanking him. I was simply there to observe.”

And although the other two don’t read deeply into the reply, Dream’s eyes cast down to Y/n at her suggestive comment. The pairs bid goodbye to each other and then Y/n spins back to him again.

“Observing, hm?”

A cheeky grin splits her face into two.

—

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Y/n grasps Dream’s hand and stares up at the large double doors that lead to the Great hall in the castle. Placing his other hand on the door, Dream pushes. The doors swing open and on the other side of the room sits the King. The man looks large in his throne, his dark hair long and crown placed lopsided on his head.

The pair bow before him and then return to their usual heights. The King squints at them and then a smile breaks out. “Dream!”

The blonde lets out a laugh. “Good morning, your Highness.”

“Oh, stop with the titles. I’m James to you, young man.” The King waves his hand around. Dream exhales and steps closer, his hand coming loose from Y/n’s.

“I—We called this meeting to ask for your approval for the possible truce between humans and magical kind,” Dream appeals, holding his breath when he finishes. The King turns his chin up.

“And what has brought this on, Dream?” Dream sighs deeply and takes another step forward.

“I have recently learnt about some of my family history and it has changed my view. My views now pose the same as George’s.” He says apprehensively, fidgeting with his fingers. Y/n stands behind him, chewing on her lip in silence, confused about his recent learning. The King squints again, his glare hard.

“And why do you believe this is a good idea? Hm? What benefits will this bring the kingdom?” He seethes and Y/n screws her eyes shut. She wants to leave, she shouldn’t even be in the castle.

Dream fumbles his words before the witch speaks up. “Your Highness, I believe that peace between your kind and mine will—”

“You brought a witch into my castle?” The King yells incredulously. Dream winces and turns to look at Y/n. But he is surprised when he sees her with a neutral expression.

“Yes, he did. Because he knows that you won’t listen to a human on issues that are only a threat to you. Did you see the citizens of this kingdom when we proposed the idea to them? They were ecstatic, to say the least—”

“Enough. Dream, please enlighten me on the benefits, I’ve been waiting far too long.”

Dream glances at Y/n again and faces the King. He must propose points that appeal to him. “James, don’t you see? A truce between the kinds will be economically beneficial since you won’t have to pay for services that are only implemented to harm magical kinds, like hunters. And the wellbeing of the Kingdom will enhance greatly from the lifted stress of not having to worry about potential dangers—”

“Yes, but those potential dangers will now be inside the Kingdom walls.”

“I understand, James, but if there is peace, then those dangers won’t be a threat anymore.”

“Yes. All we want is peace.” Y/n says, her voice soft from where she stands. Dream steps backwards and reaches back for Y/n’s hand.

King James brings his hand up to rub his chin, his glare is still cold on Y/n. “Kids like you will be the death of me. Even my own son will give me a heart attack before I’m 50.”

Dream smiles. “So, that’s a yes?” The King sighs and drops his gaze to the floor.

“I guess it is. But, if there is any harm placed on my people, there will be bloodshed. Understood?”

Y/n looks up at Dream as they both grin. He looks down at her and their eyes shine with joy and tears.

“Thank you, Sir. I will make you proud.” Dream exclaims, his voice full of excitement and appreciation.

“You always make me proud, son.” The King smiles warmly at Dream before he nods. “Now, go, you have a Kingdom to celebrate with.”

The village roars with cheerful shouts and whistles. As cliche as it is, it's a perfect summer’s day, and it’s not too hot. Magical-kind had been wary at first, entering the kingdom grounds, but soon warmed up when the humans would throw arms over their shoulders and laugh with them.

“Let me down, you fucking crazy duck! Is that what you are? A fucking duck?” A whining voice yells, although there’s a twinge of joy in his words. Quackity has a cheeky smile on his face as he flicks his hand around, messing with some of the younger humans. One of them, named Tommy, has quite the mouth on him, which earns him up in the air, upside down.

His friend, Tubbo laughs from beside the wizard in question. Karl sits behind them, a spell-book in his lap, shaking his head when Tommy’s feet finally land on the ground. “Longer!”

“No~!”

“Tommy! Yes! You’re annoying, so this is what you get!”

The young boy groans again when he feels his body lift off the floor.

The village is alive and full of flashy, bright colours, but, upon the top of the hill in the distance, sits a couple.

The juice from the strawberry dribbles slowly down Dream’s chin. His cheeks blush as Y/n giggles and she reaches her hand out to catch the juice with her thumb, her cheeks heating up too.

The pair had decided their first date would be a picnic on the grass hill that overlooks the kingdom instead of attending the festival. Y/n brought a red and white checkered blanket and a vanilla cake, and Dream brought a basket of snacks and other desserts from the Castle. He had tried convincing Y/n that he didn’t overpack and that he ‘was just a hungry boy’, to which Y/n laughed and told him to shut up.

On their journey there, Dream had pulled a bunch of baby’s breath flowers from the basket he was carrying and shoved them in Y/n’s hand. The action made the witch giggle as she watched him blush. “Thank you, Dream. I love them.” She had said, smiling at him from behind the flowers—the sight made Dream’s heart leap.

Upon arrival, they set up their spot and sat down amongst the ankle-high grass and sparse wildflowers. The sun was light on their skin and the wind blew softly as the pair laid down and watched the clouds pass whilst talking about everything and nothing; Y/n would point out a cloud and say it looked like a goose, and Dream would disagree and say it was shaped like a cabbage, and then they would argue about how the other was wrong and vice versa for a while. They spoke of their childhoods and eventually, Y/n would bring out a book from who knows where and start reading to Dream—who was more than happy to listen to her talk for hours. The two moved from opposite sides of the blanket to right next to each other, Dream’s head on Y/n’s shoulder as she read.

Now, as late morning turns to late noon, the bright blue sky swirls into a fusion of pinks and oranges and then morphs into indigo as the sun dips beyond the horizon—a perfect end to a perfect date.

Dream drops his head to the floor in an attempt to hide his red face. The strawberry juice from Dream’s lips now stains Y/n’s thumb as she moves her hand to cup his cheek, and watches his eyes flutter closed. She traces his scar lightly and her gaze flickers to his lips.

“Y/n,” Dream whispers into the wind. Y/n almost doesn’t catch it. “You know how I told you I nearly didn’t make it when I was born.”

Y/n nods and remains silent as a sign for him to continue. “It wasn’t a miracle at all.”

“What do you mean?” She asks him, her voice soft too.

“My father was a wizard,” The news startles Y/n; she wasn’t expecting that. “And my mother told me that he died because he was defending us from magic, not that he was killed for having magic.”

“Dream…”

“So I just assumed that magic was bad because it killed my father—and I guess in a sense, it did, but not in the way I thought.” Y/n is speechless as she listens to Dream talk, although his voice remains just above a whisper the entire time.

“So that’s why you want the truce? So other children don’t lose a parent like you did?” Dream nods, an outline of a smile gracing his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“Dream, look at me,” She whispers. Dream lifts his head slightly to meet her eye, his enchanting eyes reflecting the orange and pink fire in the sky. She runs her hands down his neck and down to his chest.

“Dream,” Y/n mumbles again, her nose brushing Dream’s lightly. His heart beats quickly and he hopes she can’t feel it through his white buttoned shirt where her hands lay. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that.”

Y/n tilts her chin up in an attempt to meet Dream’s mouth. He laughs breathlessly as their lips bump together, the kiss not really being a kiss yet.

“Just kiss me.” He teases, leaning further back.

Y/n sighs, her eyes closing in annoyance at his antics. “Dream, seriously. I want to kiss you.”

And soon their lips are meeting in a soft pash. There are no fireworks, no goosebumps; just airy headaches and the feeling of finally relieving the ever-growing anticipation of revelling in each other. Y/n smiles, her teeth clanging with Dream’s. He laughs again, pulling her body flush against his.

“I can’t believe it took me this long to make you mine,” He mumbles against her lips.

Y/n visibly cringes. “Gross.”

Dream giggles at her reaction and pushes his lips back onto hers. Y/n pulls away abruptly.

“Wait, does that mean you can do magic?” She asks, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity.

Dream shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve never tried, but I’m sure if I got the right training from an amazing, gorgeous, intelligent teacher, maybe I could learn.”

Y/n scrunches her nose up and swats his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Dream laughs shortly before he dips his head back down to her lips, his knuckles brushing her cheek lightly. The wind around them picks up slightly and Y/n feels static on her skin before she opens her eyes, turning her head to see glitter falling from Dream’s fingers. “Oh my god.”

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[marigoldwitch]

Let’s Talk About Elitism in the Witchcraft Community

It always seems to come back to this but I want to talk about witches in the community who give confusing, and often times misguided, advice to new comers in an attempt to separate themselves from the “soft” or “baby” practitioners.

I’m on witchtok (a community on an app called TikTok, in case you were unaware of what I’m talking about) alot and there’s something I noticed about the witches there; something I’m sure alot of you have noticed too. There’s 2 major groups of witches on the app. The ones who post “easy” and “simple” spells and information, and the ones who post up reactionary spells and information.

There seems to be this need for witches who feel better than or more educated (in their opinion) to posts videos in response to or in direct opposition of other witches. Usually these other witches are seen as newbies to the craft. And if they aren’t new (as in they’ve been practicing for a while) they’re considered uneducated or unwilling to learn.

The “why aren’t witches reading books anymore?” and “I think it’s them being more worried about aesthetics than actually learning.” comments are frustrating and reveals a huge disconnect and sense of privilege within our community. I’ve also seen comments / videos specifically criticizing the popularity of spell jars in recent years. The funniest thing though is that a lot of them are suggesting doing charm bags instead... as if that’s not just another form of a spell jar.. except it’s in a bag... not a jar :/ They want so badly to be “other” and “better” that they’re actually giving advice that’s basically saying “hey instead of using X container to hold your spell, have you tried using Y container instead?? If you read books and not just get your info from Tik Tok blah blah blah.” As if they’ve suggested something grand or much different than what someone is already doing.

Let’s Talk Privilege 

First lets be clear that privilege doesn’t mean you haven’t had “hard times” in your life. And being privileged in one way doesn’t make you privilege in every aspect. You can have class privilege while also experiencing hardship in relation to another aspect of your life. I am white, I have white privilege. I’m also a poor high school drop out. Which means I don’t have class privilege. It’s important that I make this clear because I know some people are gonna identify in someway with one or more of the under privileged groups that I’ll be talking about and that’s normal. That doesn’t mean that you can’t also identify in someway with one or more of the privileged groups that I’ll be talking about. 

Why don’t you just read more books? / Why don’t you just experiment with more tools, supplies and options like crystals, candles, herbs, tarot etc? / Why don’t you just invest in better tools and supplies? 

This falls under class privilege. Not everyone can afford to spend money on these things. “Well the library is free” not everyone can afford to spend time on these things. And I know, to someone who has the money and has the time, these sound like excuses to just not work “hard enough” (which we’ll get into why this statement is ablest in a minute) but it’s legit the reality for a lot of people. Let’s also remember that public libraries in underfunded poorer communities are.. well under funded and don’t offer the same selection that a well funded library would. Also the cost of going to and from that library (or a much better one with a better selection). Personally, I live in what is known as the bible belt and my local (underfunded) library has 5 books on witchcraft. 3 are reference books and can not actually be checked out. The other 2 require a 10 dollar deposit to check out. I kid you not. You have to pay to check out those books.

I saw a comment that said “crystal grids and crystal magic is very beginner friendly and easy, why don’t more witches do this?” And I want to shake them and scream “crystals cost money you doodoo head!!” LOL.

Supplies and tools are expensive. Yes, there’s plenty of information online about how to use what you have on hand... and those same witches sharing cheap and easy alternatives to supplies and tools are also sharing cheap and easy alternatives to spells and rituals. Hence how spell jars became so popular.

“They just don’t want to put in the effort” / “They aren’t working hard enough” / “They’re just in it for the aesthetics”

This falls under ableism. 1. Expecting other witches to match your energy and effort is hella ablest and you should stop. Not only is it unrealistic to assume we’re all on the same page, it’s unhealthy to project your own expectations on to {most likely} complete strangers just because you share one interest [witchcraft] with them. 2. Some people are visual practitioners (whether they’re ND or not) and so they need to and work better with seeing what they’re doing. It’s obvious that the type of witchcraft lots of ND people use is the type that is overly criticized in our community. (ND = Neurodivergent)

Physical disability is also something to keep in mind. Not everyone is physical able to do all the things you can do. Personally I experience hand tremors. Basically using an herb bundle to do a smoke cleansing is a huge ass mess for me and is more headache than it’s worth. So I opt out of smoking cleansing that way. It doesn’t mean that I’m not trying hard enough or that I’m not putting in the effort to make it work... it means I have a disability that makes it more difficult and I’ve found other ways to do these cleanses.

Also, witches are allowed to like pretty things. Like pretty things and valuing the beauty in your practice is all perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your space, yourself or your practice to look “pretty.” 

I Need To Mention Cultural Awareness

Another reason something might not make sense to you is because it isn’t for you, literally it has nothing to do with you or your practice and so you’ve chosen to put it down rather than mind your business. That’s really all I can say about this as I practice a fairly common form of folk magic and the practice, as well as the culture in which it’s derived from is open. So there’s nothing I do that’s really considered for specific cultures only. I’d rather someone else with more experience talk about this in more detail. 

Misguided Information and Superiority Complex 

When sharing information and experiences it’s probably better to do so without needing it to be in reaction to someone else’s information and experiences. I don’t think there is anything wrong with sharing other forms of magic or witchcraft. I think most of us want as much information to be as easily accessible for as many people as possible. The issue comes from only sharing this information and experience because you think the oppositions is/are wrong. Not because you want the help people learn. And actively putting down certain information because it was shared via social media, while also insisting that your information is the actual correct information.. while also sharing it on the same social media platform.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet.... except me. You can believe me.” Is what it feels like. And I think what gets to me the most is the amount of UPG that is sprinkled into a lot of the information that these “I know better” witches share. Thinking you know better or know more because you’ve been doing it longer or doing it different, doesn’t actually mean you do. 

I’ve said this before: No one is sharing their entire practice online

“Why are you only doing spell jars?” why do you assume that the only time they practice witchcraft is for a video / photo that they post online? 

Better yet, why are you demanding they share more than they’re comfortable with sharing? Why do you feel entitled to know everything about their practice? 

Just because a witch’s Tik Tok, Instagram, Tumblr etc is only filled with pretty spell jars and aesthetic photos of teas, doesn’t mean that’s their entire practice. That’s the part they’re willing to share with the world. And even if it was their entire practice, why do you care? Why is it your business? When did they ask you to tell them what you thought of their practice?

In conclusion

Before you make that post or make that video about how X witches aren’t doing Y thing right because I did it Z way, remember we’re all different. Times change. And something being popular doesn’t mean it’s not effective or useful. Something being mainstream doesn’t make it bad or stupid. And witchcraft becoming more and more modernized doesn’t mean it’s losing it’s roots or that the next generation of witches are gonna be “sissy babies with nothing but a bunch of pretty jars.” and even if they are, it’s non of your business.

[sunflowergirl522]

Runaway: Their Journey Begins

Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.

Word Count: 3355

Warnings: Language

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The tavern is crowded and full of life except for one dark corner where Steve and Bucky sit drinking from their mugs of beer. Sam had immediately joined everyone else instead of following his friends to their lifeless corner upon their arrival. They had all decided to celebrate the mission they just completed with a drink at their usual place.

“How mad do you think Sam is that we had to trade away his lute for the jewel?” Steve chuckles as he asks and takes another sip of his beer.

“I’m sure there’s still steam coming out of his little ears,” Bucky laughs. “Where is he anyway?” As the two of them look out into the crowd of people trying to spot their friend a table crashes to the ground drawing everyone's attention. Sam’s standing where it once was in front of an orc who looks like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. Steve and Bucky look at each other before rolling their eyes at how drunk and angry Sam is. They know immediately that he had to have been the one to knock over the table and that he’s about to start a fight.

“Watch where you’re walking you big oaf! You almost trampled me!” Sam kicks at the orcs legs as he speaks. The orcs' eyes narrow in on Sam realizing that he had been the reason the table was knocked over and his drink now covering his lap instead of sitting in his mug.

“You spilled my drink on me. Who do you think you are halfling?” The orcs' voice booms through the tavern as he picks up Sam by his collar.

“It’s your turn.” Steve reminds Bucky as he nonchalantly takes another drink from his mug.

“I know, I know.” Bucky downs the rest of his drink before forcing his way through the crowd. “For such a half pint you sure cause a shit load of trouble Sam.” He grumbles to himself before addressing the orc in the room. “Hey buddy! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

“Get out of here helmet head, I have no issues with you.” Bucky snarls at the insult thrown at him and cracks his knuckles.

“Yeah, well now I got an issue with you.” He lands a punch in the orcs stomach causing him to drop Sam in shock, who immediately dashes over into the corner with Steve.

“Okay devil man, you asked for it.” 

The orc swings for Bucky who dodges it while landing another blow to the orcs chest. The crowd in the tavern bursts into chaos and cheers as the fight begins. Bucky manages to dodge another punch just to catch a blow to the face from the orc's other fist. He stumbles back a bit from the force of it and can feel the tear in his lip from his fang. He growls at the smirking orc in front of him. He jumps at him, shoving him over onto a table before climbing on top of him and throwing punch after punch at the orcs face. 

Then the doors swing open and everyone freezes as elven guards file into the tavern. The gold of their armor hints to the fact that they’re sun elves. It was rare to see elves in this area. And it was unheard of to ever see a sun elf anywhere other than their territory or in a war. So seeing all the guards fill in the perimeter of the tavern is enough to stop Bucky mid punch. A hush falls over the crowd as an elf prince walks in. He stops in the doorway and scans the place in disgust before his eyes land on Bucky. He makes his way over to him and stops in front of the table. He cringes at the bloodied orc before speaking.

“I’m in need of your services.” Bucky’s eyes go wide for just a second before the orc underneath him groans, drawing his attention back to him. He lands one final blow to his face before standing up and motioning for the prince to follow him over to Sam and Steve. The prince grimaces at the sight of Sam, so drunk he’s barely conscious, and very hesitantly takes a seat across from them while Bucky leans on the wall behind them crossing his arms.

“What can we do for you?”

“Find someone for me. My bride to be has disappeared under my watch. As of this morning she was missing from her room and she’s not in my kingdom. It’s preferable that you find her before her father realizes that she’s missing. I believe that she was kidnapped though any enemies we have wouldn’t have known that she was visiting.” 

“What does she look like?”

“She’s a moon elf.”

“I assure you, your majesty, that we don’t see a lot of moon elves in our profession. We’re gonna need a description to find the right girl.” Bucky spits out and a moment of silence passes before something clicks in Bucky’s head. “You’ve never even seen her have you?” The annoyance in his voice isn’t hidden and Steve bursts in quickly so Bucky can have a moment to stew in whatever he’s thinking of saying.

“Where was she last?”

“The last any of my guards or her guards saw her was in the room she was using during her visit.”

“And you probably won’t even let us go there.” Sam hiccups break apart his slurred sentence as he picks his head up from the table just for it to fall back down when he finishes speaking.

“Your drunk friend would be correct. My kingdom is no place for creatures like yourselves.”

“So let me get this right.” Bucky pushes off of the wall and leans his hands on the table and brings his head down to the prince's height. “You expect me to find some lost princess with no description, no reason for someone to take her, and not even be able to try to track her from where she was last?”

“I can give you a piece of her clothing for a scent.” The prince nonchalantly removes his gaze from the nails he was boredly examining and makes eye contact while he speaks.

“I’m not a damned hound!” Bucky snarls and slams his hands on the table causing many guards to step forward. Steve quickly stands up effectively shoving Bucky back and stopping him from doing anything stupid.

“We’ll look for her. Do you have any suggestions on where we should start looking?”

“There’s a town called Tavin that I’ve heard she spends time in, it’s not far from the kingdom, I’d start there.” The prince then stands up and motions with a finger for a guard to step forward. He drops a bag of coins onto the table and Steve grabs them before Sam can open his eyes to get a glance of it and try to snag it. “You’ll get the rest of it after she’s returned safely to the outskirts of my kingdom.” The prince throws over his shoulder as he starts to walk out of the tavern.

“What an entitled fucking weed eater! How the fuck does he think we’re gonna find his precious fucking princess?” The noise Bucky’s fists make when they slam into the table cause heads to turn in their direction and also causes Sam to groan out something about trying to sleep.

“Are you the best at what you do?”

“Of course I am.” Bucky scoffs out, annoyed that Steve would even second guess that.

“Then we shouldn’t have any trouble finding her.” Steve smirks at his friend knowing he had won whatever argument they would have over this whole quest. “Now let's sober up Sam and get ready to go.” He tosses Sam over his shoulder with just a small protest from the halfling and starts to make his way out of the tavern. Bucky follows behind him grumbling to himself in Inferno and makes sure to kick the passed out orcs legs on his way out.

***

They had let Sam sleep for an hour in their room at the inn not far from the tavern while they repacked their belongings. Once they woke him up they gave him a meal and some water to get him more alert. It’s the system they use every time Sam gets drunk too soon before leaving for a quest. They had to create it because Sam always insists that he can drink just as much as them and not get drunk even though he does every single time.

“So what exactly are we doing again?” Sam asks from atop Steve’s shoulders. He had climbed up after not even twenty minutes of walking because he was tired. He shoves some bread into his mouth while he looks at Bucky for an answer.

“We have to find some elf broad for this dick of a prince.” Bucky’s fists haven't been unclenched since they left town. He stalks ahead of his friends in his annoyance without realizing it. His annoyance only amuses Steve because he knows that once they get to Tavin and pick up a trail he’s going to be on top of it.

“Bucky’s still upset that the prince didn’t give us a description or anything to work with.” Steve looks up at the halfling on his shoulders as he explains the hostility in their friend's voice.

“I’m annoyed because the guy seems like an ass!” Bucky yells back over his shoulder.

“An elf gal huh? I have the perfect song for this!”

“No!” Bucky doesn’t even need to turn around to know that Sam’s reaching behind him to grab the lute that he made them stop to buy on their way out. 

“Fine but only because it’ll be tough to play on someone's shoulders.”

After a long time of walking the trio comes to a crossroads and according to the map they have, both paths will eventually lead them to Tavin.

“I’ve been to Tavin before, if we go right we’ll get there faster than if we go left.” Bucky looks at Steve and points his thumb over his shoulder at the path to the right of the sign.

“Buck, I’ve gone to Tavin a hundred times. If we go left it’ll take longer, yes, but there’s a small village in between us and Tavin that we could stop at to rest and pick up whatever we’ll need.”

“Steve, if I wanted to stop at a town I would’ve said we should go left. The prince said that we should find her before daddy dearest finds out so we should take the quicker path. And I don’t know about you but I want this over and done with already.”

Their bickering continues for a short while before Sam gets annoyed and looks at the map himself. He takes into consideration what bothe of his friends said and how much he would want to walk before he starts walking one way while bringing his lute around his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Steve calls out to Sam while Bucky smirks at him knowing that Sam’s just made their decision and went with his path.

“I’m gonna find me an elf lover!” After speaking Sam immediately starts to strum and sing a song about the love between an elf and a halfling. Steve shoots his own smirk at Bucky knowing that he’s gonna have to deal with his singing now. BUcky only groans before they both follow close behind Sam.

“Why did I have to befriend a bard?”

“Because said bard has saved your ass on more than one occasion.” Sam answers the rhetorical question still strumming along.

“Shut it shortstack, you were only able to help because no one can see you coming.”

“Can we just all agree that you’re both idiots and move on with our lives? I’d rather not spend the whole trip listening to the two of you argue the whole time.” Steve can’t speak without chuckling over how ridiculous his friends are.

“Alright.” Sam goes back to his song.

“Fine.”

The trio walks on for hours with Sam playing songs here and there and all of them cracking jokes at one another. They walk until after sundown and well into the night. Thanks to the stash of food Sam always has, they don’t even need to stop to hunt for some food.

“Can we stop walking now? It’s starting to get so dark we can’t see the path.” Sam asks as clouds begin to drape around the moon dimming their light source.

“Maybe for you but that’s why I’m here.”

“He’s right, Bucky. We should set up camp for the night, we could all use some sleep anyway.”

“Alright, c’mon, there’s a clearing off to the side of the path up ahead. We can set up there, I’ll start a fire.” Bucky leads his friends up the trail just a little farther before turning off of it and taking his pack off. He leaves Sam and Steve to set up the tent since the moon starts to peek through the clouds providing just enough light to work and goes off to search for wood for a fire. When he comes back he finds Steve sitting outside of the tent with Sam sleeping soundly inside.

“Do you think we really need a fire? I’m getting ready to head in to sleep too.”

“You’re telling me this now? After you let me go off to find the wood.” He drops all the wood at his feet before moving to sit next to Steve.

“I thought you could use some time to yourself to calm down a bit about this quest.” Bucky just nods at him and leans back on his hands.

“Do you really think we’re gonna find the girl Steve?” He asks after a moment of silence passes by.

“Of course I do Buck. As soon as we get a hint of where she is you’ll be able to find her in no time.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to be found?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking and the prince said that no one knew she was visiting right? So how would anyone of known to kidnap her from the kingdom? She could have just run away, I mean the prince doesn’t seem like he’s much of a catch, if I was being forced to marry him I would run away too.”

“I don’t know Buck, from what I’ve heard arranged marriages are rare even among elves. I’m sure if they were getting married they knew each other. I’m gonna head to bed, you should too.”

“Yeah, I will in a bit.” Steve nods and heads into the tent while Bucky looks up at the moon. He can’t help but believe that Steve’s wrong. It has to be an arranged marriage, why else would the prince not know what she looks like.He sits there thinking to himself and looking up at the moon for a while before making his way into the tent.

***

“Rise and shine sleepy head! It’s time to get this show on the road!” Sam bursts into the tent strumming wildly on his lute to get Bucky up. The tiefling groans and flicks Sam with his tail before sitting up. “Shit! You’re so fucking grumpy when you wake up.”

“Because it means another day of having to deal with you.”

“Yeah whatever, put a shirt on and come outside so we can pack up the tent already.”

“Morning Buck.” Steve greets from his spot on the ground where he’s looking at the map. “It looks like we’ll make it to Tavin by noon.” Bucky finishes pulling his shirt over his head as he walks over to his friends to take a look in the food pack.

“Morning.” A strand of his hair falls over his forehead and he runs a hand through his hair between his horns. “The pack’s almost empty, we’ll have to get more food when we get to Tavin.”

“Steve got up and caught some rabbits so that’s something.” Sam speaks in between bites of the roll he has in his hands. He nods his head towards the fire that the rabbits are cooking on.

“You’re not allowed to hold the pack anymore Sam.”

“What, why?”

“I know you’re the one eating all the food. You can be in charge of the tent pack from now on. Now come help me take it apart while Steve finishes packing everything else.”

Bucky and Sam get their gear out of the tent before starting to tear it down. Bucky throws his cloak on and packs up his leather armor while he leaves Sam to pack up each piece of the tent. When Sam starts to reach for the food pack Bucky grabs it before swinging it over his shoulder with his own stuff. And once more they start their journey to Tavin.

***

Tavin is a lively town with merchants and musicians littering the streets. The people loitering around seem happy as they laugh and talk amongst each other. Bucky brings his hood over his head as they reach the crowded town, hiding his horns the best he can. He never knows how people will react to seeing a tiefling walking among them so unless he’s normally in a town he’ll do this.

“You think we should try the tavern first?” Steve asks while motioning to the building with a sign reading ‘La Luna’.

“Yeah, if that doesn’t work we can start asking merchants.”

“Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go!” Sam speeds up thinking he’ll get some food and a drink while they’re there. Just outside of the tavern Bucky grabs onto the back of Sam's shirt successfully stopping him as he tries to keep walking.

“We’re not here to drink, got it?” Sam groans.

“Yeah, yeah, just here to get information. You’re no fun, you know that?” Bucky ignores his friend and follows Steve up to the bartender. Sam grumbles to himself but soon gets distracted by a pretty dwarf sitting in a corner of the place, packing up some food.

“Hey there newcomers, can I get you anything?” The barkeep greets Bucky and Steve as they approach the bar.

“No thanks,” Steve says as he leans against the counter, “we’re just wondering if you could help us find someone.”

“Barely a soul comes through here that I don’t know.”

“We’re looking for a moon elf princess, you seen her?”

“We don’t see a lot of royalty in these parts.” Bucky slides a few coins across the bar knowing how this process works. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. She’s a bit of a regular when she’s out adventuring. Pops actually named this place in honor of her.”

“Has she been here recently?”

“Was here just yesterday, met up with a clan of dwarves who’re here all the time. She left with them.”

“You know where we can find those dwarves?” Bucky leaves a few more coins on the counter.

“You got a map?”

Meanwhile Sam tries to shoot his shot with the dwarf maiden he had spotted.

“Hey sweet thing, my friends and I are in town looking for someone, but I think I might just be who you’re looking for.”

“Maybe you are.” She sends Sam a flirty smile. “But that might depend on who you’re looking for.” And boy is Sam weak to attractive women because he’s quick to spill the beans.

“Some elf princess, I’m sure she doesn’t match your beauty though.”

“Where are you friends now?”

“Over there, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind waiting around if I told them I was leaving with a pretty lady.” Sam points over at Steve and Bucky who’re talking to the bartender and the dwarf watches as Bucky slides coins across the counter with wide eyes.

“I actually have to go.” She leaves in a rush and Sam just shrugs.

“Her loss.” He makes his way over to his friends as the bartender points at the map in front of him.

“Sam, we’ve got a lead.”

Bucky Taglist: @puddinsqueen @koressecretidentity @stevieintheimpala @unmagically @peachytea01 @the-chocoholic-writer @perksofbeingatrex @99-cats @rachmmb @quokkatrash @vanillamaa @strawb3rrydr3ss @that-sarcastic-writer @spideyycents @mackycat11 @crystalsoul2 @rosiemotion @dissectiontime @lmf @jacelynenursalim @aiyanalevina @mooncaffeine @fanofalltheficsx @jewelsrocks99 @lharrietg @yoongisdumplingcheeks @clubcesspool @sailormajinmoon @girl-obsessed-with-things @corvusmorte @sophielovesbarnes @collywobbl @majo240820 @alina02 @toothhurtyam 

Marvel Taglist: @its-the-autism-innit-luv @pogueslandia @obsessedwithbuckybarnes @rorysreallyrandom @sxtansqueen @myalupinblack @aya-fay @lieswithoutfairytales @kakakatey @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @amelia-song-pond @leyannrae @ficsnrec @slut-for-bucky-barnes​ @neenieweenie​ @officiallyunofficialperson​

Everything Taglist: @florenceyelena @ninuffi @i-love-superhero @kolakube9 @lexy9716 @hehehehannahthings

[the-blind-assassin-12]

A Bad Option for Close Quarters

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION 

A/N: Hey there, Prince Oberyn party people! Before we get started in this one, I want to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone for all the encouragement and kind things that you had to say after I posted the first part of this collection. I was and still am nervous to take on Oberyn, so reading the comments that you left really made me feel less nervous. You are Great!! 

A/N 2: And now I have to talk about serious stuff- this part does have some sensitive material in it that may be difficult for some to read. I don’t normally put big red warning stickers on my work, but this one feels like it warrants it. Please as always read the content warnings and if you are still unsure, know that you can always send me a message to ask specifics. 

Warning: language, violence, blood, injury, abuse (physical & sexual in nature) death, NO LIKE ALL THE WARNINGS APPLY. general brothel un-pleasantry. 

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Oberyn has made it clear that you are his favorite way to pass the time while he is in King’s Landing, and you are perfectly happy with that. But not everyone is.  

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.” 

You heard him before you saw him, lined up a few heads behind the front of the procession of prostitutes spilling into the brothel’s main chamber, but there was no mistaking his rough voice or the lowborn accent he tried so hard to hide when he spoke in the presence of others. Shit. You had known him long enough to pick him out from a legion of men by sound alone. Or smell. 

It was Gannon Yast, a foot soldier in the Lannister army who had saved up his coins for years to purchase his surname from a forger on the black market. Like you, he had been born on the streets of King’s Landing, and like you, he was just another drop in the bay, another bastard bearing the name Waters. But unlike you who knew what you were, Gannon had always been subject to outlandish fantasies and truly believed the lies he told about himself and his upbringing. He had been spinning them in his own mind for so long that by now there was surely an elaborate tapestry depicting the lineage of a House that had never existed. 

House Yast. The very thought made you roll your eyes. His sigil could be the pot he bought himself to piss in on a shit brown background. 

The penalty for falsifying documents such as the ones that Gannon had illicitly procured ranged from execution to public flogging and time in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. To him, imprisonment in a cell was no worse than suffering the flea bitten life his birth name chained him to. Since he wasn’t so bold as to impersonate a nobleman, he knew that he wouldn’t lose his head, and to him it was worth the gamble. 

You didn’t share his viewpoint. You had heard stories, rumors, about female prisoners and the things that had been done to them at the hands of the Gold Cloaks, and while you had no idea how true they were you were not at all interested in finding out. If you were going to get fucked by Lannister guards and soldiers, you may as well be paid for it. Forged proclamation of respectable provenance wasn’t the only way out of King’s Landing, and you’d also been saving your spare coins, few and far between as they may be, for passage across the Narrow Sea and out of Westeros. Even if it would take you a lifetime to save, you would rather hoard what you could over decades than spend even one night in those dank caverns. 

Unless Oberyn actually… You had done your best not to dwell on the offer he had made you to leave the city with him, to live free in the Kingdom of Dorne. He hadn’t mentioned it again though you had been with him several times since. Six. Six times in eleven days. It wasn’t as though you were the only one of Litlefinger’s whores that the Prince and his paramour came to see. The only one he chose every time though. The only one he spent an entire night with. You shook your head and followed Dria, one of the other girls who had been there nearly as long as you had, into the chamber where Gannon and two others were waiting. Even if he truly meant to make good on his offer, his departure from King’s Landing was still weeks away. Anything could happen in that much time. He could make promises to half the whores here about- 

The thin curtain separating the hallway from the main reception chamber was still billowing near your ankles when you felt Gannon’s meaty hand close securely around your wrist. He yanked you straight out of line, much to the dismay of the other men in the room, the girls in front of and behind you scrambling out of the way so as not to get tripped up by your sudden departure from the lineup. Biting the inside of your cheek to hide the grimace on your face at the twisting and pinching of your skin beneath his rough fingers, you stumbled into his hold. Shit. From the corner of your eye you saw Dria sneering at you as she draped herself over the shoulder of one of the other infantry men, and you knew it was because she was bitter about how much time you’d been spending with Oberyn and Ellaria while she and the others were left to serve the lesser customers like Gannon and his acquaintances. Jealous witch. 

You didn’t have the chance to sling a glare back at her, Gannon spinning you around to catch your chin in his free hand, the other releasing your wrist to grab at your ass. Squeezing both to the point of pain, you let out a small muffled sound as he brought your face close to his own. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t that fuck-drunk prince’s prized little cunt.” His breath reeked of stale ale and whatever the slop stalls were serving up in their brown bowls that week, his clothes and hair soaked in the bodily stench of a soldier who had been away for long months. He drew his lips into a vicious grin, continuing to grope your flesh through the gauzy sash that barely covered you. The stark contrast between his touch and Oberyn’s made your skin crawl and your stomach turn. You knew that the next time you saw the Prince you’d likely be riddled in bruises and marks left behind by Gannon’s greedy grip and forceful fingers. What will he think of that? 

Your mind provided a quick answer, the way he had looked at you when you told him how you ended up working as a whore in King’s Landing flashing in your memory, his eyes filling with pain, anger and dark fire. He won’t like it. At all. 

Dria’s shrill laughter met your ear as the man she’d been pawing at picked her up and brought her into one of the private pleasure chambers, the door slamming behind them. The third man in the room seemed happy enough where he was, two of the remaining girls already stripping each other of their sashes and teasing him with the perfumed fabric. Those unselected by the men were already shuffling back down the hall, waiting to be called when the next batch of customers arrived. You longed to join them even if it meant forgoing pay for the afternoon, but wishful thinking wouldn’t get you out of this. 

Nothing could. 

You’d been anticipating this encounter since you caught word that the Lannisters were bolstering security around the city leading up to the Royal Wedding. You knew that meant low ranking soldiers like Gannon would be flooding the inns and brothels. The fact that Oberyn had been monopolizing you, keeping you from giving Gannon the homecoming he clearly thought he was entitled to only exacerbated the man’s jealous anger, his lack of patience, his belief that he was owed things from you and your body.  

The man who was currently claiming as much of you as his fingers and thumbs could fit between them broke through your thoughts, continuing to snarl his displeasure over your recent unavailability. “You had me settle for scraps while you fucked that southern shit,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips to land on your cheek. “Every time I came looking for this,” the hand that had been squeezing your ass slipped between your legs as though you of all people needed him to explain why he was in a brothel. You winced, every last fiber of your being trying to recoil from him and finding nowhere to go. “Every fucking time, you were in that room bouncing on that peacock’s prick.” He turned you roughly towards the room that you had utilized several times with Oberyn on his visits and shoved you towards it. “I could hear you in there. You made me fuck scraps while I listened to that and-”  

“I didn’t make you fuck anything, Gannon.” Knowing that you were only making him angrier in your struggle didn’t stop you, and even though he was twice your strength you did what you could to resist the way that he was steering you into the private chamber. “It isn’t my fault that you have to buy time in bed with a woman because no one who wasn’t forced to fuck you ever would.” You bit your words at him only because his flesh was too far from your teeth. “It isn’t my fault that-” 

He timed his backhand with the slamming of the door that he had just pushed you through, releasing his grip and driving the knuckles of his right hand across your face so that you fell hard to the stone floor. Your knees and palms made blunt contact and you knew that as soon as the white hot ache tearing through your skull subsided, pain would erupt over those areas too. Fuck. Letting out a small groan, you tried to crawl away if only just to turn back towards him to see the next blow coming, one scuffed and scraped palm coming up to your already swelling cheek. You could feel warm blood pooling in the shallow cut there, saw a drop fall to the floor as you inched yourself closer to the wall, and though you knew it was likely that he would hit you again, while your body throbbed with the raw, abusive way he was handling you, you didn’t regret saying what you did. 

Gannon Waters was a pile of shit in the gutter, and no forger could change that no matter how fancy the calligraphy on the falsified lineage documents looked. He was foul and filthy and that had nothing to do with which surname he paid for. He was a rotten being and it had nothing to do with where he was born or how many golden coins he could rub together, and suddenly you couldn’t bear to keep those opinions from leaping from your tongue. Not when you’d seen and known better men well before you ever even met Oberyn. The men you served were not always like Gannon, seeking only to assert dominance and demean the unlucky prostitute who didn't feel quite as unlucky until he put his hands on them. Not all of them were despicable and suddenly you had reached a threshold for what you were willing to accept without at least letting loose your venomous feelings, consequences be damned. 

Before you could get too far though, you felt his tight grip wrap around your ankle to yank you back towards him, your knees both hitting the floor again as he did. You let out another involuntary cry, trying in vain to kick free of his grasp, aiming for his chin if at all possible. He thwarted your attempts with another hard pull, dragging you closer so that he could hold himself above you, trapping you between his limbs with one hand pressed firmly over your mouth. “You’re going to regret the day you turned me down, you little cunt.” He seethed as he tore at the sash that somehow still covered your lower half as he dropped his heavy weight on you, the hilt of the sword he still wore and the buckle of his belt scraping at your skin to leave indents. “You could have been my wife, could have had a name, but you wanted to be whore, and I am going to make you regret that choice no matter how many times you fuck that Dornish dog. I’m going to make you regret that until the day that you die, do you hear me?” 

“I hear you.” 

It was Oberyn’s voice that you heard next, and at first you thought it was just a trick that your mind was playing on you, dizzy from the strike and the fall, wishful thoughts sweeping in to carry you away from consciousness. What? How is..?

The dangerous vibration in Gannon’s voice, the unhinged way that his eyes were twitching, the crushing grip he had on you, all of it made your world shrink to just those things, just what you could see and feel and hear. Which meant that you hadn’t noticed the door bursting open, hadn’t heard the shouts or the hurried footsteps of two figures as they rushed inside, hadn’t fully registered what was happening as Gannon was hoisted off of you and slammed into the hardwood table that stood in the center of the room. Someone was pulling you to your feet, wrapping a pair of warm arms around you, murmuring your name and pleading with you to look at them. 

Shaking in shock, you managed to turn your head and focus your eyes, blinking them furiously to force the room to stop spinning. Ellaria? As soon as you recognized the woman you let yourself collapse into her, feeling as she let out a sigh and strengthened her hold on you to keep you on your feet. “You’re alright now.” She spoke softly in your ear as she led you closer to the small table beside the bed where a wash bin and cloth had been set out. “Come here.” Without letting go of you, she reached for the white cloth and dipped it in the cool water before bringing it up to your cheek, the soothing relief of the soft fabric instant as she gently pressed it there. She continued to hush and soothe you, letting you lean into her, and more quickly than you would have thought possible you felt your breathing return to normal, the adrenaline still pounding behind your eyeballs, but allowing you to make sense of what was happening at least. 

Oberyn and Ellaria… they must have come in just after… and then they-      

“I heard you,” Oberyn growled at the man again as he used his agility to duck Gannon’s reactionary swing, slamming him into the table’s surface once more. Using the momentary disorientation, Oberyn disarmed the man before Gannon could fully unsheath his long sword, simultaneously forcing the man into a seated position in one of the chairs that hadn’t gotten knocked to the ground in the fray. “Now tell me why I should let you live.” He moved one hand to the back of Gannon’s neck and pressed hard until the man began to choke out, gasping and gesturing to the Lannister crest emblazoned on the leather chestpiece he wore, and Oberyn released his grip enough to lean back and glance down at the embroidered lions, a look of mock appraisal pulling his handsome features into a cruel mask. “A soldier? Is that what you are trying to say? That I should let you live because you are a soldier?” He scoffed, shaking his head as he tossed the sword aside. “No, no, no,” Oberyn chided, the skin over the knuckles of his left hand stretched tight over the other man’s neck as Gannon fought to free himself from the Red Viper’s hold. “You are not a soldier.” 

The dented steel clattered noisily against the stone floor, skidding halfway across the room to where you and Ellaria stood, the woman stopping its momentum by placing the sole of her sandal atop the flat width of the blade. She still had one arm around your waist, the opposite hand still covering yours to help you keep the cool cloth pressed to your bloodied cheek. Eyes never leaving Oberyn, she turned only enough to whisper into your ear. “He’s going to make that swine pay for what he did to you,” she told you, leaving a comforting kiss on your uninjured cheek. “I promise.” 

You didn’t doubt it. Ignoring the ache, your upper lip curled as you eyed the man who struck you. “Good.” From the corner of your eye you saw Ellaria’s mouth lift into a grin at your response while Oberyn shifted his grip from behind Gannon’s head to one of his wrists, forcing his fingers to splay open atop the carved wood. 

“You are not a soldier,” the Prince went on, “I am sure of this because a soldier would know better than to draw his longsword in such close quarters. No, I don’t think Lannisters have soldiers. That word implies training. Dedication. Skill.” Leaning closer, he paused to allow his voice to fill with disdain, then looked over to where Ellaria’s foot held the weapon in place. “You are just a sack of meat with a pointy sword that is too far away to save you now.” Gannon began a string of swears then, but Oberyn didn’t let him finish it, cutting him off with a question. “Do you know why King’s Landing is such an ugly place?” He used his free hand to grab the sniveling, shaking excuse for a soldier by the jaw. 

You shivered, watching his fingers dig in with enough force to leave deep bruises if not crack the bones beneath them.  How are those the same hands that he- With a rough twist he forced Gannon’s face in your direction, left hand still pining the other man’s wrist to the table. The man who only moments before had been holding you down even more harshly actually had the audacity to shoot you a pleading glance, the fear in his eyes begging you to call off the attack. Fuck you, Gannon. You narrowed your eyes at him and spat blood onto the blade Oberyn had stripped him of. 

Dropping his level he lined himself up directly beside the coward. Releasing the man’s chin as roughly as he’d grabbed it, he turned in your direction. You saw a quick flash of pain in his eyes as he looked at you, and though it was gone before you were truly sure it was there, you felt it in your chest. Oh, Oberyn, it’s… I’m alright. 

As though he could hear your thoughts, he blinked and the remnants of the flash were gone, replaced with renewed anger. He swiveled his head to face Gannon once more. “Because worthless fucking shits like you destroy all the beautiful things.” With lightning speed he reached for the short dagger hanging from his own belt to unsheath it and dragged it across the tabletop. Gannon’s chair shifted as he tried in a desperate panic to distance himself from the glinting edge of the razor sharp weapon, the rounded legs scraping the stone floor as Oberyn brought the crooked dagger to hover over the man’s pinky finger. “Do you know what we do to men like you in Dorne?” He rested the edge of the dagger between the top and middle knuckles of Gannon’s last two digits, a thin crimson line appearing beneath the blade before it had even had the chance to bite into the skin there. 

“Oberyn, wait.” You called out his name, raising the hand you’d been clutching onto Ellaria’s forearm with to stop him from removing Gannon’s fingers. His forehead creased in confusion, the woman beside you drawing a breath to protest your seemingly merciful request. But you only waited long enough for a spark of relief to flicker in Gannon’s eyes, your own burning with hate- for Gannon and men like him- and that flicker fizzled to nothing as he realized that you had no plans to grant him mercy. “It was the other hand that he struck me with.” 

Flashing a grin as quick as the blade he held, Oberyn switched Gannon’s hands so that it was his dominant one to take the punishment, and in a testament of just how sharp the Red Viper of Dorne kept his knives, removed the top portion of the man’s four fingers with almost no pressure needed, the detached parts rolling over the table, no longer a piece of the man’s body, now just bits of waste. Gannon let out a nearly inhuman howl of pain as he keeled over onto the floor in a bloody heap, clutching the gushing stumps above his knuckles that used to be fingers. Though you had never had a digit cut off and couldn’t begin to guess at how it would feel, the sounds coming from the man were twisted, inverted almost, turning into a shriek, his face contorted as though he was being consumed in flames you couldn’t see. Finally, writhing his way to his feet, Gannon scrambled from the room, his screams still audible even as he fled the brothel. 

You hadn’t even realized that you’d stepped away from Ellaria, not until you were reaching for the handle of the dagger that Oberyn had released once he’d finished carrying out the sentence he had passed on Gannon. But before you could close your fingers around the hilt, you felt and then saw Oberyn’s hands coming from behind you to cover yours, stopping you. Pressing your hands into your own stomach, he pulled you back gently but urgently into his chest, his lips immediately finding a home behind your ear where he kissed your name. “You’re safe.” His breath hit your skin in a wave as he slowly turned you in his arms to look you over. Satisfied that you hadn’t been more seriously injured than you were, he relaxed but only slightly. 

Sticking one hand out wordlessly behind himself, he waited for Ellaria to pass him the cloth she had been using to clean your cheek, his eyes glued to your face as he brought the cloth there, dabbing so feather light that you hardly felt a thing. You did feel the weight in his eyes as he looked at you though, and you could tell that what he and his paramour had walked in on had shaken him. Just as your lips parted, intending to whisper his name, his eyebrows came together, a crease forming between them to turn his expression even more grave and it silenced you. Cradling your face between his large palms, he kept you framed  between his bent forearms as he spoke. “You must never touch one of my blades unless I place it in your hand, do you understand?” 

Sucking in a breath, your eyes widened as they flicked back to the blade where it still sat atop the table. You had heard the rumors about the poisons that the Dornish Prince coated his weapons with, and as the sunlight filtered through the window, you saw it shining a dark sickly green color and everything fell into place. That was why he was in so much pain, that’s… he- You looked back at Oberyn then, your chest heaving as you wrapped your head around everything. “You… poisoned him?” 

“He deserved worse.” You watched his nostrils flare, something fiery roaring to life in his eyes. “For what he did to you, he deserves-” 

“Will he die?” You asked without flinching, without your voice wavering, giving him no reason to believe that you were off put by how he had handled Gannon. 

His upper lip curled slightly as he answered, his voice dropping lower. “Not right away.” You inhaled a breath through your nose. He will, then. You caught what he wasn’t saying, that the poison he had used was not only responsible for the increased pain sensitivity, but that it would also masquerade as infection soon enough, sickening the man well beyond the point of saving before he’d even shown signs of illness. 

“Good.” You narrowed your eyes to add emphasis, wanting him to know that you were entirely supportive of the fate he’d subjected Gannon to. He did it to himself. 

Oberyn tilted his head to one side as Ellaria stepped around to take the cloth back from him, the pair of them existing in such harmony with each other that they didn’t even need to communicate verbally. She laid her hand on his arm, moving closer to press her lips to his bicep, kissing him through his robe. Though she didn’t even make contact with his skin, the action was so intimate that their connection was almost tangible. They’re so… Despite the pain you were still in and the shock that still coursed through your veins, the pure beauty in the way that they loved one another wasn’t lost on you. Most people would never have even a fraction of what they gave each other, what they allowed one another to have, what they encouraged each other to experience. You knew that no matter how long you would be involved in their lives, even if you did end up going back to Dorne with them, there was nothing that you or anyone could do to come between Oberyn and Ellaria. It was gorgeous, the way that they respected and supported each other, and you knew that most people wouldn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter to you, or to them. 

Ellaria leaned over to tuck a piece of your hair out of your eyes, sweeping her fingertips over your swollen cheek. “This will fade, I promise.” She gave you a smile then that was softer than you had a feeling she liked to appear to anyone but Oberyn, then leaned in to speak into your ear. “Let him take care of you. He… he needs to know you’re alright.” Dropping a soft peck to your eyebrow, she pulled back and gave you a minute nod, and then she was heading for the door without another glance or word. 

Once it had clicked shut, Oberyn took both of your hands in his and led you slowly backwards to the bed, pausing when he felt his calves hit it to shift his grip to your waist. As he sat on the edge, he pulled you into his lap, and you let him fold you close to his body. But instead of staying there, he slid his arms beneath your legs and around your torso, moving both of you backwards towards the pillows until he had enough space to lay you down. Completely bare, the sash you’d been wearing torn in bloodied pieces on the floor, he let his eyes roam every bit of you, taking stock of the bruises and scrapes, the scratches and red marks that you’d received before he and Ellaria had come to your aid. Then, without warning, his eyes were on yours, and they were spilling over with need, but it wasn’t the same kind of need that you’d seen there before. 

He needs to know you’re alright. 

You heard the other woman’s words echo in your mind, and you knew that this was what she meant. Licking at your lips, you reached for his jaw, fingers grazing the deceptively soft hair that covered it, and you felt him lean into your touch, eyes closed for several beats. “I’m alright, Oberyn,” you kept your voice as even as you could, knowing that it would help convince him that while you were hurt, it could have been far worse. “I’m alright, because you and-” 

“I am sorry that I could not stop him sooner.” He hadn’t waited for you to finish speaking, nor had he opened his eyes, and the way that the muscles in his throat contracted as he swallowed told you that there was more to what he was feeling than you knew. 

“I...Its-” His eyes opened as you swept your thumb over his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Yes- I do.” He shook his head slightly and took your hand in both of his. Bringing it to his lips, he fit the knuckle of your middle finger between his lips, dragging it along the seam of them before kissing the very end of it. “I have my reasons,” he said, “for why I… why seeing this happening was-” he swore under his breath and swallowed again. “Something…monstrous happened to...to my sister.” You felt your heart break at the sadness in his usually vivacious tone, and you wanted to say something to comfort him, but you fought the urge, remembering what Ellaria had said. “I do not wish to talk about that with you tonight, not while you are…” He brought one hand to your abdomen, fingers finding a divot left there by the press of Gannon’s metallic sword hilt against your skin. “Not while you are in need of my care.” He carefully lowered himself to lay beside you, letting his touch travel over your body to caress each bruise, and then his lips were raking over the cut on your cheek, impossibly close but so gentle that even though the skin was raw and angry, it didn’t hurt at all. “I will tell you about her one day. I… I want you to know me, understand me. And you cannot do that without learning about her.” You wanted to know whatever he would tell you, even if hearing it would shatter your heart all over again. “But not tonight. Tonight…” he looked into your eyes then, that need still there. “Tonight, let me take care of you, my wild thing.” Though it wasn’t sexual, the burn in his desire to tend to you purely to help heal your wounds, you couldn’t help the way that your stomach flipped and your heart lurched, because that somehow made it mean even more. “I will not rest, he went on as you hummed at the sensation of the backs of his fingers trailing over the purplish marks on your arm, “until I have made my penance to every part of you that he touched.” 

You fell asleep that night to his fingers in your hair, his lips resting against the crown of your head as you lay against his chest, not a single mark left untended by the Prince.    

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THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free  to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do!

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws @valkblue @alraedesigns @beefcakebarnes​ @persie33ik @fific7​ @g0ldenlush​ @insiespeckagain  @thisgirl-knm​ @writeforfandoms​ @paracosmenthusiast​

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

Subtle, feat. Matthew Tkachuk

Warnings: Smut, Jealousy, Edging, Rough sex

Length: 3.1k

Inspiration: I was actually inspired by a line in @jasonmorgan96​‘s Meet The Parents with Vince Dunn. I almost used Vince for this fic, but Matthew fit much better.

To say your boyfriend hated your neighbor was an understatement.

A major understatement

Like, a wow understatement.

But you couldn’t really blame him. They were exact opposites. While your apartment neighbor, Will, was clean and put together, Matthew was wild and untamed. Whereas Will had has hair clean cut and slicked back, Matthew let his curls run wild. Will strutted around in J. Crew and Banana Republic, Matthew lived in sweatpants and ath-leisure. The differences went on for ages.

But the biggest difference was that you were dating Matthew and not Will. And this was a difference Will seemed unwilling to accept.

See, you and Will were a lot alike: Academic, intellectual, scholarly types that didn’t take up a lot of room in front. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, was a loud, in your face, take up all the air in the room type of man. And you adored him for it. Your totally contrasting personalities fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. While you brought peace and serenity to his life, he brought intensity and fire to yours.

It was this intensity and fire you felt in your belly that Friday night, his fingers digging into your hips, his hips strong against yours, his teeth sharp on your throat. You giggled as you both stumbled into the elevator of your apartment building, his strength enough to keep you both from falling to the floor. Pulling his head up, you took his mouth in a kiss that quickly turned hot as he took control. The two of you collapsed back against the wall of the elevator, mouths still fused. It was when you felt his calloused hand pulling your floor-length dress up your thigh that you dragged yourself away.

“No, no, no. No, sir. We were late for the last event. We will not be late for this one.”

Matthew only hummed in feigned compliance as you wiggled out of his grip and leaned forward to press the lobby button on the control panel. You barely made the reach, as he still had his hands firmly on your hips, which were cradled back into his own.

“They’ll understand. Especially when they see you in this dress,” he purred against the shell of your ear. You rolled your eyes. “Of course they’ll understand. They’ll understand so well I’ll hear about it for the next two weeks.” You could practically hear Matthew beaming with pride behind you.

Before the elevator doors could close, a hand shot out from the hallway and they parted again. You immediately felt Matt stiffen behind you, his hands tightening on your hips as Will slid into the elevator, his eyes narrowed judgmentally. Since you believed in keeping peace with your neighbors, you cleared your throat and smiled cordially.

“Hi, Will.”

“Y/N. Where are you headed this evening?”

“Oh, the Flames are having an event.”

“Again?”

“Yes, they have quite a few.”

“How...humanitarian of them.”

Jesus.

A few months ago, Will would have been your type. But since you started dating someone as open and unashamed as Matthew, you could better see a guy like Will for what he really was: condescending, judgmental, entitled. He never missed a chance to remind you that he thought you could do “better.” Though he never said this in as many words.

You should come to this new cafe with me. I’m sure you’re long due for a stimulating conversation.

While I can’t push a puck around, I can read Shakespeare and Balzac.

No amount of money or fame can replace a college education.

Jackass.

You replied before Matthew got a chance. “Yes, I certainly like to think so. They love to give back. What are athletes without the people who support them? Oh, here’s the lobby. Have a good night, Will.”

Lacing your fingers through Matt’s, you all but dragged him out of the elevator toward the front door. He fell easily into step next to you, your fingers still laced together. “You should let me beat him up in the parking garage one day.”

You let out a very unladylike bark of a laugh and brought his hand up to kiss him on the knuckles. He responded with a kiss to the crown of your head and a not so subtle squeeze of your ass as you made your way to his waiting car.

By then end of the night, your boyfriend had you dying for him. Soft, teasing touches under the table, deep kisses snuck when no one was watching, and filthy words of promise whispered in your ear made you so on edge you were dragging him out the door by the end of the night. His hand rested dangerously high on your leg the entire ride back to your apartment, his fingers only just brushing the seam of your thigh. You fidgeted desperately, trying to pull his hand where you needed it, but he wouldn’t give in.

As soon as you were alone in the elevator he was on you, his hands shoving your dress up so he could grip your thighs and hoist you up between his body and the wall. You grunted when your back met the metal, but it was muffled by his mouth over yours. The kiss was deep and wild, everything you had been holding back the entire night. It was everything that was Matthew. The ding of the elevator at your floor had you pulling apart reluctantly. As you stumbled out of the elevator you ran right into Will rummaging through his satchel at the door to his apartment. He looked up, eyes narrowing at your unkempt appearances. 

“Oh, hi, Will. How was your night?”

“It was good, thank you. Very productive. How was your night?”

“It was great.”

“Yes I can see that.”

Before you could reply, Matthew opened his big fat hockey mouth. “And it’s going to get a lot fuckin’ better. Good night, Billy.”

With that, he pulled your key out of your hand, deftly unlocked your door, and dragged you inside.

“Very subtle, Matthew,” you scolded him drily, hoping your voice relayed at least some displeasure at his childish behavior. Unfortunately, his hands at your waist and mouth at your neck were making it difficult to hold your ground. 

“Wasn’t trying to be subtle, princess,” he murmured against your ear, his chest rumbling against your back as he squeezed your hips and guided you toward the bedroom. You groaned as his lips moved from your ear down your throat to nip at your shoulder. His hands were also roaming, skimming up your sides to tug at the back zipper of your dress.

“Actually,” he continued. “I don’t want to be subtle for the rest of the night.”

“Wha-”

You yelped as he twisted you around and shoved you not ungently onto your back on the bed. He was stunning as he towered over you, eyes hooded in the darkness of the room.

“I want you to be loud  tonight. Can you do that for me?”

Unable to deny him anything, you wordlessly nodded, still speechless at the sheer sight of this man that was yours.

“Hmm, good girl.” With that, he dropped to his knees, hooked his arms beneath your legs, and dragged you to the side of the bed. Shoving your dress to your waist, he buried his face between your legs. The sudden heat and pressure of his mouth made you cry out and buck against the feel. Collapsing back, you arched into the touch. He hadn’t taken off your panties, and it was torture to feel the pressure of his tongue against you, but not inside of you.

Pleading his name, you shoved your hands through his curls, both pulling him closer and pushing him away as the pleasure built. When he finally pulled your panties aside and curled two fingers inside of you, his name was a sharp cry, your back arching off the bed. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled away.

“Not yet, princess. It will be so good when I let you come. So fucking good, baby.”

Whimpering, you reached for him, but he was shoving your hands away and grabbing at the neckline of your dress. He ripped it off in one quick motion, having unzipped it a few moments before. Your panties came with it and you were bare to his eyes. When you reached forward again, he let you make quick work of his own clothes, his hands just as urgent as yours as you tore open his shirt and shoved aside his dress pants. 

As he stood naked before you, cock hard against his stomach, you couldn’t help yourself. Moving to the edge of the bed, you wrapped your arms around his waist and laid kiss after kiss over his chest, nipping here and there with your teeth, worshipping him. His hands were in your hair, pushing you closer as a loud moan of your name left his throat. You could imagine his face: head tipped back, tendons strong against his throat as his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth opened in pleasure.

You felt his cock twitch against the skin of your chest and his hand was suddenly at your neck and shoving you down onto the bed. You felt his grip on your throat trael between your legs and you nearly came, but his voice was pulling you away again.

“Not yet, baby. You come with me inside you.”

Before you could object, he was moving over you, a knee coming to the side of your head, the other coming up beneath your arm and under your shoulder. One of his hands had fisted his cock. “Suck me off, princess.”

You did as you were told, greedily accepting his cock in your mouth. He groaned long and loud, his body pitching forward until he had to catch himself with one hand against the bed. You ran your nails up his thighs to his hips, digging them in hard as you took him as far back as you could. This drew a long, strangled moan from his chest and you whimpered in need. His other hand went to the back of your head, digging a strong grip into your hair and forcing your head forward.

The pace was rough and desperate as he fucked into your mouth, his hips snapping forward until he was hitting the back of your throat at every stroke. You welcomed him every time, giving him complete control to take whatever pleasure he wanted from you. You could only hold on, let his hold on your head dominate every movement you made. Words of filthy encouragement dripped from his mouth and you opened your mouth wide as you felt his cock twitch.

But before he came down your throat, he was yanking your head back and pulling away yet again. You collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath.  Before you could raise your head or even open your eyes, you felt the heat of his tongue lick a long path up your pussy. Groaning out his name, you thrust your hands through his hair in welcome. But he was gone again the next second, the strength of your hands incomparable to his.

“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are like this?” He purred against the mound of your pussy before laying a gentle kiss there. “So fucking wet and wrecked for me. God, such a slut for me.” You could only whimper in reply as he kissed his way slowly back up your body. Your pussy throbbed at the soft brush of his cock, but it was gone again in the next breath.

His next words were murmured against your throat. “Who does this to you, baby? Who makes you this fucking wet?”

It took a long moment to find them, but your words left you on a rush of breath. “You-you do, M-Mathew.”

He hummed in approval against your throat before taking your mouth in a rough tangle of a kiss. You groaned again and collapsed back against the bed, wrapping your legs tight around his hips. No matter what he did, how far he pushed you, the pleasure he dragged screaming from your body, his kiss felt like sanctuary every time. The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, relishing the warm intimacy of the kiss before he was flexing his hips and biting hard at your bottom lip. You yelped in pain, but then squealed in surprise when you were suddenly moving off the bed and through the air. 

Your back met the headboard so hard you grunted. Matthew’s body was hot and hard against yours, pressing you back until you could feel the tension of his muscles with every deep breath you took. You leaned forward to kiss him again, but he clapped his hand over your throat and shoved you back against the headboard.

“Matt...”

His hand gripped your hip and lifted your body up slightly. You gasped against his mouth as he pushed just the tip of his cock into you.  Your pussy clenched reflexively, but he was pulling out again to the sound of your strangled sob.

“What do you need, princess?” he growled against your lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“Matthew, please. I can’t-”

You yelped again as he slapped your ass hard. “Tell me.”

You struggled to find words as he pushed in slowly again, only slightly deeper than before. You both inhaled at the pleasure, bodies moving as one. 

“You, Matthew. I need you. Please. Please-”

He pulled out again, but was quick to push back again, his own need reaching a breaking point.

“What do you need? Tell me exactly what you need, baby.”

“I need to come, Matthew. I need you to come inside of me. Please. Please.”

He chucked against your mouth, shameless in his knowledge of your desperation.

“Whatever you want, princess. But be loud for me. Scream my name fucking loud.”

As he pulled out and slammed in to the hilt, you did just that, screaming out louder than you ever had before. His hands flew up and one of them manacled your own wrists to the headboard, dragging your body up until you had to sacrifice all control. His other hand went to the top edge of the headboard and held on tight. With every thrust against you, he slammed the headboard back against the wall.

Let that little prick hear whose name you screamed. Let him hear every slam of that headboard until he couldn’t think of anything else when he so much as saw you.

Your orgasm was shattering when you finally came, more powerful than any you had had before in your life. Your body sagged in his grip, but Matthew wasn’t done. He pounded into you until he reached his own climax, pulling out and thrusting in so deep you could feel him in your throat.

When he let go of your hands and let his own body relax, you sagged against him, collapsing as you struggled to catch your breath. He held you gently, murmuring praise into your ear as he stroked your hair.

When you finally regained some composure, you laid a hot, wet kiss to his throat, a silent thank you for the pleasure. He groaned and tilted his head to the side in compliance. When you felt his cock twitch in renewed interest, you flexed tight around him.

HIs next words came only after a strangled groan. “Not yet, baby. You did so good for me. We’re going to rest a bit.”

Before you could argue, he wrapped an arm tight around your waist and moved you both to lay down with your heads against the pillows, his cock still inside you. Your bodies more than enough heat without the blankets, you snuggled into him and let out a small noise of content and drifted off to sleep.

He woke you up twice more that night, dragging you on top to ride him and then putting you on your knees, head shoved into the pillows as he pounded into you from behind. The next morning, you could barely move, grimacing as you pulled yourself into an upright position.

“You okay?” Matthew’s voice was tired and raspy. You looked down at him and your heart fluttered like a teenage girl’s. He was beautiful next to you, unashamedly naked and taking up every inch of air in the room. You also didn’t miss the glint of concern in his eyes. Not being able to help yourself, you leaned down and pecked him on the mouth. “Yes,” you reassured him. “But you need to feed me.”

He grinned against your mouth and pulled his own body up and out of bed. You couldn’t help but glare at his retreating form as he sauntered to the bathroom. He was used to throwing his body around like a wrecking ball. You were not. You were going to feel last night for at least a week.

As you began to get ready to go out for breakfast, you caught a glimpse of the wall behind your headboard. You squawked in anger and disbelief as you took in the state of your wall. 

“Matthew!”

He poked his curly head out from the hallway, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“What?”

“Look at my wall! It’s fucking dented!”

The cocky bastard didn’t even try to look ashamed. He looked unbelievably proud of himself. “We did good, babe.”

Grabbing the closet object - an UGG slipper on the floor - you lobbed it at his head. Of course, he ducked back into the bathroom just in time.

“You’re paying my security deposit,” you hollered over your shoulder as you stomped to the other bathroom.

When the two of you made it out of your apartment, who should you run into but Will. Who did not look happy. He got one glimpse of the two of you and his jaw set in an angry, judgmental line.

“Good morning,” he greeted you frostily. 

“Mornin’,” Matthew replied, a wide smirk on his face.

You felt your own face flush a deep red. God, the two of you had been loud last night. And Will lived in the apartment right next to your bedroom wall. If you were rough enough to dent the wall, you were loud enough to keep him awake.

As Matthew was about to say something else, the three of you turned your heads as a tiny old lady hobbled out of the apartment. You and Matthew both stood in stunned silence.

“This if my widowed grandmother,” Will explained with a tight voice and a frosty glare. “She stayed with me last night.”

You gaped and looked up at Matthew, who had turned a concerning shade of white.

The little old lady took you both in before her face broke out in a big brilliant smile. She reached out and patted your cheek. “Good for you, sweetheart!”

Subtle.