#no wonder she falls so hard for him lmao

[neversetyoufree]

WAIT I just realized something

Noé and Vanitas head to Gévaudan the morning after Jeanne and Vanitas's date, and they only spend one night there before the arc's end.

That means that Vanijeanne's night in that cabin is the day after their date. Barely over 24 hours. And then the rest of Gévaudan happens within the next day. Including Vanitas saving Jeanne from her doom spiral and Jeanne kissing Vanitas on the cheek.

No wonder they're both so fucking infatuated lmao.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Thoughts~

Bonnie being angry and disappointed at Freddy when Cassie helps bring him back only for him to see the destruction and decay of his family and home that Freddy allowed to happen because of Gregory, and breaks up with him.

Bonnie later slowly starts falling in love with Proto Freddy (maybe a bit of it is Bonnie projecting but he's def falling) instead.

And Freddy can see it happening from where he is.

Gay drama~

(Long post. I went off on one lmao and can't use read mores on my phone, sorry mobile users)

Ohhh that's a fun one! Bonnie rebounding onto Protobear and after a while those feelings become real... he deserves it honestly. He deserves a happy ending after everything, and so does Protobear! Bet that's an emotional rollercoaster to get through though... That party doesn't sound fun... For them anyway. Very fun for us though! Sucks to be them!

You know what else is fun for this? Bonnie falling for whoever Freddy believed deactivated him. Freddy treating someone differently before the events of SB, and side eying them all the time, not trusting them at all because of what the must have done to Bonnie... It must have been them! They're the only one the makes sense! They're the one that made him disappear and is trying to act like everything's normal! They must be to blame! They took his Bonnie from him and won't tell him what they did or where he is! Whether he's right or not is irrelevant, if he believes it's true, he's going to want nothing to do with them! They need to stay away from Bonnie!

And now here he is. Watching Bonnie flirt with that person. Be it Monty, Roxy, Moon, Chica, whoever. Freddy finally saying out loud what he's felt he's known for a long time now, that this animatronic killed him, how could Bonnie possibly even still look at them, never mind fall in love with them after that?!

Bonnie's face falls flat. He turns to Freddy and stares him right in the eyes. "They didn't do it, Freddy." or even, "They did it to save me, Freddy. What did you do?"

Absolutely devastating. The gay drama is so good

On another note, this is making me think of Protobear and Roxy being fucking hilarious. "Hey, you wanna really freak him out?" one of them asks and they start fake dating in front of Freddy to piss him off. Like they're the most over the top, mushy couple with the most insufferable nicknames, trying so hard not to laugh their asses off, and the first one to crack loses. Everyone gets in on it. Whaaaaat?? Roxy and Protobear?? Oh they're sooooo in love so so so in love, they're not pretending, they would never pretend!!

Jskdndk they get Cassie in on it and she starts calling them mum and dad 2 and Freddy is pointedly trying to leave the room as quickly as possible, but as usual, the fucking doors aren't letting him out again. They're always on the blink now, it's absolutely never Roxy using her security clearance to play Musical Doors with him. Nope. Never. Look at their fake mushy romance boy, you can't escape.

Freddy has never been more confused and sickened in his life. He's always hated Roxy and Roxy's always hated him, this is the worst thing to have to watch ever. He's even more upset if Bonnie pretends to be their partner as well, and even more so if Roxy was who he assumed deactivated him. This is a nightmare scenario and he's being so brave about it.

Sat there trying so hard not to say a word. He's so fine. Not glaring at all. No no no, he's not staring listlessly at them, he's just trying to contact maintenance via the network, obviously. He's not resisting the urge to grimace and not wishing the floor would swallow him up right now. Absolutely not. He would never. He's so so so happy for them. Yup. So so happy. Could not be happier. Why won't these fucking doors open?!

You could apply the fake dating to Protobear and Bonnie specifically too. Bonnie's going through a rebound, and he knows it, so he stays away from Protobear for a while. He tries to take care of himself and the others are right there to help him out the best they can. When he's feeling better, he starts gradually spending more time with Protobear (who has had the situation of Bonnie and Freddy explained to him and is very understanding about it) and the two start slowly building a friendship. Slowly, so as to not rush Bonnie through anything. Protobear himself has walked away from several hangouts because he can tell that Bonnie is struggling, even if he won't admit it, they're handling this with the utmost care...

But then Bonnie, Roxy, Monty and Chica, the four that should never be trusted without supervision, get talking. Bonnie is laughing at these three clowns telling him all about how they're fucking with Freddy for fun, and let him in on some of their schemes. They're hilarious, and he would have thought so before everything happened too, even if he did think they were a bit mean at times. I mean, rallying a bunch of kids to gang up on Freddy in their Fazerblast game as a 'super secret mission' is a touch mean, right? Not anymore. He deserves it.

But then they get to thinking. Bonnie wants to try messing with him too. They bring him in on some of their dastardly plans, and come up with several new ones for him, and believe me, at this time, not a single one of them has the braincell, so you can imagine the bullshit they come up with lmao. He finds this weirdly cathartic. The ability to moderately inconvenience Freddy in funny ways is more fun than he thought it'd be. He was worried it would hurt, worried it would make him think about things too much, and while it does hurt to look at him sometimes... Well his heart is more with his friends than ever now. He feels no desire to be nice to him, or to go back to how things were anymore. He's okay now and this is what makes that real to him...

Then one day it hits him. His own plan to mess with Freddy. Completely his own, the three stooges had nothing to do with this one. It hit him when he was hanging out with Protobear and DJ. What if they were fake dating in front of Freddy? Bonnie and Protobear! Madly in love, with the most sickeningly sweet pet names and the worst pick up lines you've ever heard in your life! DJ thinks that would be pretty mean... But would get him so good, he's a surprisingly petty guy sometimes. Protobear agrees and is completely up for this, it sounds hilarious, but... is Bonnie sure he's ready for that? Is he sure he can handle that?

They think on it a bit and talk to the others about it, who think that's fucking genius but have the same concerns as Protobear. Sunny thinks it's a bit much (and he's probably right) but is very excited to play along with this. He loves playing pretend, he's where Cassie gets it from. When they decide they're gonna do it, they set a few boundaries just in case, make a safe word for if they feel they start going too far with it, and swear to eachother to call it off if it all starts getting too much... Or maybe too real.

Oh my god they have so much fucking fun with it. Protobear has never laughed so hard in his life. The others joining in, helping them pull this off, and building on the joke too make it even more fun! They're having a blast and Freddy is suffering greatly! Customer service mode can't save him now!

But after a while, things start to change. Some of the flirting becomes a little too heartfelt. The insistence that they're not actually a thing becomes less frequent. The act starts to spill over into their everyday lives. Suddenly, they're not so sure this is still a joke anymore. Suddenly, the overdramatic cuddles last until long after Freddy has left the room. Suddenly, they're starting to wonder what it be like to be together for real.

Realisation hits and oh god oh no oh fuck this was NOT the PLAN god DAMN IT

So much fun to be had here!

One more funny one: instead of just Roxy or Bonnie pretending to be with Protobear, what if it's everyone? Protobear has one giant polycule going on where everyone apparently adores him and he dotes on everyone cause he loves them all so so so much. Freddy is staring in disbelief at the 'romantic' cuddle pile Protobear is right in the centre of like this is the most normal thing in the world. It's a Plex wide competition to see who can be the most insufferable in a fake relationship and whoever cracks first loses. It's a team effort! A coordinated attack! And sometimes they actually do fluster Protobear and eachother they're all having fun!

I'd like to call this plan the Protocule :)

(Also, hi jellycreamjammedart! This is the first post I've made today so you may wanna check I've not reblogged with more additions later on. I know you get online kinda late in my timezone, or at least that's when I tend to see you around, so saying this is just in case!)

[shidoukanae]

Things about Paris the manhwa just does not fucking talk about:

-The thing he’s shown smoking in the beginning of the story is kava which apparently he’s using to treat insomnia. Which therefore makes his comments about how Helene's visage keeps him up at night in the manhwa very interesting in hindsight (and might also make sense why he feels maddened by her existence)

-One thing the light novel talks about that the manhwa doesn't do a very good job of is that Paris awakening as a dragon basically isolated him from the rest of the world to the point it's part of the reason why he was driven so mad. He's instinctually repulsed from humans as they're not part of the same species as him (which is!! very interesting worldbuilding!!! especially considering he takes on a human form!!) and has been left feeling alone for so long that it's basically made him unable to view humans around him as real people to care about

-Fian's existence in Paris's life is a REALLY FUCKING GOOD THING FOR HIM. You can just feel how much happier he is now that there's another of his species in his life and the overprotective big brother vibes he gives off towards Fian is actually stupidly cute.

Also really found it interesting too that he wants to keep away humans from Fian and shows possessiveness towards Fian because Fian is a dragon like him (and the fact he sends Lyla to where Fian is after figuring out that Lyla is Fian's "fairy" really speaks volumes of how much he cares about Fian)

-it's interesting to note too that Paris makes some interesting commentary where he laments why the dragons of Kylon want to get along whereas the siblings of Belliana want to kill each other. Him wondering if the instinctual bond dragons share can be broken is also interesting...

-Paris: I do not care for humans i only care for other dragons and will protect Fian if I have to from everyone but the fairy he adores

also Paris: so hey there's this really pretty elf descendant gal and i kind of maybe keep finding my thoughts straying back to her...pretty sure this won't be a problem though owO

-Paris’s first meeting with Helene (aka, the moment where he fell for her in the original novel ig) is when he goes to steal the Silver Dragon’s Heart Fragment. Considering him doing that is how he meets Helene in the manhwa, I can’t help but wonder if he’s the only character who gets to remain consistent with his OG!self in going insane in both the manhwa/LN plots

-Paris just,,, randomly helps Lyla out when Tyrone is trying to get back at her for insulting him,,, and i still think it's a crime that this scene got omitted from the manhwa (as well as scene of him following Lyla out of curiosity and then connecting the dots of who she is and leading her to Fian the moment he realizes how special she is to Fian). He's a fucked-up character but dear god do I find it impossible to hate him when he continuously shows the level of complexity that i crave seeing in characters

-”...his feelings for Helene were more of an obsession born of genuine possessiveness than love” 

*looks at manhwa!Paris*

Yep that’s certainly him to a T. Sure hope he gets character development in the novel so i have hope he’ll get it in the manhwa and actually fall in love with Helene instead of,,, that

-really love that Lyla is still canonically spooked by him (she should be!!!). All these additional details about Paris also makes me D: bc jfc she is not kidding when she says he’s a psychopath and i hope her timeline’s version of him is a lot better of a person (esp to Helene if he indeed is still on track to being love interests with her like in the manhwa!!)

-”male protagonist from a broken family” DO TELL MORE LYLA DO TELL MORE. I know his father’s treatment of him is kind of fucked-up from the manhwa but i wanna know more about his home life im begging!!

-also Lyla calling him the male protagonist is really fucking funny to me. Lyla dear I think you meant to call him the antagonist holy fuck

-not sure if Paris is on track to being lovers with Helene in the LN's timeline but the connotation is there that he will. really interested to see how their relationship will progress in this timeline because genuinely the chemistry between them in the LN is different from in the manhwa

[bratphilia]

overtime (m. schmidt x reader)

request: "Hey ! Just discovered your account and I love your writtings ! I was wondered if you could write a smut and romantic thing with mike ? I dont have any specific context and all its up to you ! <3"

note: ty sm for showing love to my work and for requesting!! i finally was able to write something actually sweet with mike for the first time lmao.

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

tags: small age gap, fingering, missionary

after putting abby to sleep, you fell asleep yourself in front of the tv. you couldn't help it! it was a long night of cooking spaghetti for abby (and ordering pizza, per her request), helping her build a fort, and coloring with her inside it. abby's a sweet kid, but babysitting has always tired you out in general. plus her older brother, your boss, started working the graveyard shift at his new job, so it would be unfeasible for you to not go to sleep during your time spent over there.

you woke up to the chair next to you being shifted in, and open your eyes to see mike sitting there, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. you feel embarrassed that you fell asleep on the job and quickly explain yourself. "i'm so sorry for falling asleep, i was just—"

he looks at you. "no need to apologize. i don't expect you to wait all night long for me."

awkward silence fills the air. well, that settles that. god, he's so cute, you think, even all stressed out and with bags under his eyes. he's also been nothing but kind to you since the two of you met. always concerned with how you're doing, how school is holding up, and just generally about your wellbeing. you try to do reciprocate as it's obvious mike doesn't have a lot of people in his life doing the same for him.

you're the first to break the silence. "uhm, there's leftover pizza in the fridge... you know, in case you want any..." you comment, not quite sure what else to say to him.

"oh! thank you," he says. "did abby ask you to..."

"make her spaghetti and order pizza? yes, she absolutely did."

both you and mike laugh. "i'll make sure i can pay you back for that. you really didn't have to—"

"mike," you interrupt, "seriously, don't worry about it. i understand your situation and i want to help you."

mike looks at you gratefully, almost lovingly.

"y'know—"

"so, i should really—"

the both of you talk at the same time. "oh, sorry, you go."

you smile gently. "no, you go. i was just going to say i should hit the road."

he runs a hand through his hair again, eyes darting across the room bashfully. "well i — uh, i just wanted to say thank you for all you do for abby... and for me. it means a lot. you're very... kind."

your smile widens at his awkward choice of words, but it deeply touches you that he appreciates you. you place a hand on top of his. "of course, mike. i'm always here for you."

mike looks at your hand and inhales deeply through his nose. "will you — will you stay for just a little while longer?"

before you know it he's on top of you on the couch, slamming his middle and ring finger inside you while you bite back moans. "gotta be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart. can't wake abby up, okay? or else i gotta stop and neither of us want that," he whispers to you sweetly.

instead of letting you respond, mike presses his lips against yours in a deep kiss while he continues to finger you. you break apart to quietly call his name, letting him know that you're close.

much to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out before you can come. "mike, please," you whisper.

"please, what, honey?" he teases.

you squeeze your thighs together, trying to relieve the tension in your core. "please fuck me already."

mike presses his forehead against yours, breathing sharply as he slowly pushes inside you, inch by inch. you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out as your pussy swallows his hard length.

as he begins to move, he also clearly struggles to keep his noises to a minimum. as a solution, he envelopes you in a kiss as he moves inside you. his pace gradually increases from gentle to faster. the feeling is absolutely delicious.

he can feel your pussy spasming around him and his own dick pulsing too. he uses the hand caging you in on the couch to hold yours as he continues to fuck you.

"feel so good around me, baby," he whispers hotly. "you have no idea what you — ngh — do to me. every time i see you i always think about fucking you like this."

"mike," you moan quietly. his words only encouraged you.

his name becomes a whispered chant falling from your lips as he fucks you through your own orgasm. he's sure to pull out and come on your stomach while he pumps himself.

mike wipes the sweat off of his forehead and sits up so your legs lay over his lap. "sorry for pushing you into overtime," he jokes.

you give a small laugh. "no worries. it was my pleasure."

mike shakes his head at your dumb joke. then his smile fades and he looks at you seriously. "is it... too early to say that i love you?"

you lean up and meet his lips in a kiss as your answer.

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

[pricegouge]

fine i'll split it into two parts because i need instant gratification

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. MDNI

this is in response to a prompt but i don't wanna publish the ask until it's all done and up. also, i don't think this is recognizable against what she posted, but i do remember reading @ceilidho 's musings on this exact dynamic forever ago and it poisoned my brain so any similarities are in fact her fault cause she's gotta stop being so brilliant

>Running late but the door's unlocked. Feel free to let yourself in.

You read the text again as you park your car alongside the shiniest Lexus you've ever seen in your life. It rubs you wrong, the whole thing. The triple wide garage and the perfectly manicured lawn, the lack of a formal meeting and now this - 'Come on in and meet my daughter unsupervised for the first time, the door to my aggressively lavish home is unlocked just for you.' 

It had your hackles raised, creeping up the drive with caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Laswells hooking you up with this gig, you probably would've backed right back out just as soon as you'd parked, but they'd never steered you wrong before and you doubted they would start tonight. 

Kate Laswell wouldn't tolerate some kind of pervert, and she definitely wouldn't recommend your services to him. 

The door is indeed unlocked, though you have some difficulty finding it at first. The flow of the walkway leads you right to the paneled door, but it certainly doesn't look very welcoming and at first glance you mistake the recessed entryway for just another confusing design element. But then the pathway runs out, bordering up to a lawn so lush it may as well have been planted with a carpet and you chew your lip, contemplating. For a moment you think to look for a back door, but then you take one step onto the lawn and your boot kicks out from under you, the soil beneath deceptively soaked by the automatic sprinkler no doubt. The fall isn't hard, just enough to plant you on your ass and splash some soil up onto your face. You frown at your dirty hands and then frown even harder when you see the trench your trainer has dug into the beautiful lawn. Standing, you try to wipe your palms on your hips and discover yet more mud so you give up, toeing a hunk of grass back into place in an attempt to cover the divot. 

When you turn back to the house, your brain finally makes sense of the broad bands of wood, the lock, and the handle. You pull open the heavy door with a frustrated sigh, finding a moody foyer - pale flooring contrasting nicely with the glossy black wall which stood across from you, subtle inlets suggesting it hid closet space if only you were clever enough to figure out how to open it. Fucking rich people.

You remove your muddy shoes out of necessity, but you leave them in a dirty pile next to the door and head off in the direction of little kid TV noises with your jean jacket still firmly in place. You've had enough hoity toity doors for one day.

Emily is four, and you think at first that her father must be brave to leave her unsupervised while he gets ready in the other room, but you suppose needs must, and she's well enough behaved to be trusted it seems, if the pristine state of the room is anything to go by. She sits placidly on the floor, playing idly with a pile of HotWheels as she zones out to some bubbly princess show on the screen. She jumps about a foot when you call to her to make yourself known, and then watches warily as you introduce yourself. For a moment you think you'd rather face a parent's scrutiny, her dark eyes so intense on your face you briefly wonder if she's got the shining or something, if maybe she's about to tell you how you die -

And then she points at you with a boxcar accusationally. "Why are you so dirty?"

"Oh," you laugh awkwardly. It's stupid to flounder under a child's gaze but you feel a bit out of your depth already so you do, smearing more mess across your pants when you pat your dirty hands over your thighs. "Took a little tumble outside."

"You look silly. You need to clean up."

"I -. You're right, I do. Where's the bathroom, please?"

But Emily is uninterested in helping you, it seems, instead much more entertained by the vaguely rhythmic chanting of 'dirty girl' she sets into, clamoring to her feet in order to run circles around you, pointing every now and again to make it clear who she's singing about.

You sigh to yourself, hoping against hope that she's not another spoiled rotten client. You're getting real sick of rich people and their spoiled kids, honestly. But you don't bother trying to correct her behavior. You are after all a stranger who just wandered into her home covered in mud. Any adjustments made now likely wouldn't be taken seriously by a child and that's okay, you wouldn't take anyone seriously under those conditions either. So you just grumble good naturedly and break free from her little circle, wandering in the direction of a dark, recessed hall off to your left. 

"The bathroom over here?"

"Dirty girl, messy girl!"

"Good talk," you mutter to yourself, socked feet slipping on the polished floor. You were definitely going to Risky Business the hell out of this place once the little shit had gone to bed. In the privacy the hallway offers, you give it a trial run, grinning like an idiot as you overshoot the first door and sidle back, rapping your knuckles on the frame out of habit. You roll your eyes at yourself for it, knowing full well the only other person home is upstairs getting ready, and push the door open just as someone from within grumbles 'In use!'

It's like you've never seen a man before, the way you stand there and gape. Looking at him now, you're not sure you ever have.

John Price is big. And hairy. And wet. And big, meaty fist so thoroughly swallowing the razor he's pulling up his exposed throat that at first you're unsure if he's just feeling himself up, inspecting the thick cords of his neck, maybe. Shaving cream drips down his bare chest in sticky rivulets, matting the thick pelt to his pecs. Water flows into the runnel between them, chestnut hair darkened by the runoff from his task. It drips down his forearms too, at least as far as it can, the hair there so thick it dams up somewhere around his wrists. He wears a towel slung low on his hips, his muscled belly hanging over the hem. It's tied off on the hip closest to you and hanging on for dear life, the breadth of him testing its capabilities. It gapes open high on his thigh, yet more hair and dense meat on display.

In the overwhelming humidity of the room, each breath feels too heavy to take, like your chest is simply too weak. You want to stammer an apology, but your mouth is suddenly much too dry and it comes out as little more than a series of clicking noises in your throat - 

Which are completely drowned out by the litany of 'dirty girl!'s behind you.

Mr. Price huffs a laugh, razor clattering against the sink as he taps it clean. The noise is muted in the dense air but it's enough to break you of your spell and this time when you apologize, your voice is winded and thin but at least audible. You step back, attempt to duck out, but then the man is turning to face you fully, motioning you closer with the hand that still holds the razor and you've never been one to disobey the people who pay you so you do, careful not to slip on the slick tile.

"Think you need it more than I do," John rumbles, deep voice lilting around the edges as if he's in on some joke that you're not. He nods to the sink he still mostly blocks when you shoot him a confused look, clock the open interest in his gaze.

Right, the mud. Some first impression. "Sorry," you chuckle, trying to make light of it. "I took a little spill in your yard just now. Mr. Price, yes?"

John at least nods and has the decency to look concerned but his niceties end there, still standing much too close as you step forward and run the faucet, getting to work on your hands. You keep your eyes locked on your task, afraid to make eye contact with his reflection in front of you. He's only one man but between the sheer size of him and the mirror, you feel like you've been caged in.

"But you're alright, I hope? Not hurt?"

"Nothing besides my ego." Your laugh is still breathless, nodding down the hall where Emily continues singing. In the reflection, you catch John staring down at you shamelessly and you duck your head again before continuing, "Your daughter has a way with words."

John chuckles, scratches his chest absently. You try not to zero in on the sound of it. "Gets her clever tongue from her mum, I'm afraid."

And maybe it's because you're stupid, or it's because humor's never failed to get you out of a bind before - maybe you just like making things difficult for yourself - whatever the cause, the effect's the same. You're an incorrigible flirt. "Well, don't sell yourself short."

The scratching against John's chest stops. When you look up, ears on fire, you find him staring back at you through the reflection, dark eyes so heavy they're nearly a physical weight. Your pulse thrums, whole body primed for a smart retort, but then Emily is in the door, laughing at her own antics. Her voice is bubbly when she asks if you can order pizza and it's hard to stay mad at her even when she calls you 'messy girl' again.

You start to say yes and then bite your tongue, unsure. You don't care how Mr. Price feels about delivery, honestly, but it's possible Emily has a dairy allergy you don't yet know about. This is why you usually prefer to meet parents ahead of time, but Kate had said the man was much too busy for such a thing, and the way he'd been scrambling for a reliable babysitter after his live-in nanny retired had made you sympathetic (see: very open to accepting clients who could afford live-ins), bending your rules for one of the Laswells' oldest friends. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time but now you were being guilted into cheesy comfort food, you find yourself ill-prepared

Thankfully, John takes over. "Not until you learn some manners first, munchkin," he proposes, wetting a hand towel and turning you to face him with a big hand on your shoulder. You frown up at him in confusion but he just ignores you, wiping at your temple with his towel as he continues talking to the toddler behind you. "That's Miss Messy Girl, alright? Only polite."

When he releases you, you glare up at him, no real heat. He smirks, taking the towel to his own face now, wiping excess product off his skin without breaking eye contact. "Now ask nice."

You flounder a moment, at a loss, and then have to resist the urge to kick yourself when Emily takes up the queue instead. Of course he meant his daughter.

"Miss Messy, can we please order pizza?" 

John laughs and suddenly you don't care how Mister Price feels about delivery. And if it turns out Emily can't have it, he can deal with her ensuing meltdown. He's already running late anyway. "Of course we can, sweetie. But please, my name is -." 

"MISS MESSY'S THE BEST!" Emily crows, jumping up and down on the spot. 

***

When he gets out of the bathroom, John teases you right up until the moment he heads out the door that pizza was your idea so you'll have to pay for it. He also throws a stack of flannel and henley at you, tells you to stop tracking mud all over his house or he'll add cleaning to your job description. You tell him you charge extra for that and he gives you a look like he's famished, like you're the first slice of meat he's seen in years.

It only gets worse when you emerge from the bathroom moments later with what can only be his pajamas hanging off you, but he never says anything inappropriate and he keeps his hands to himself. You try not to think about why that disappoints you. 

Resisting the urge to take a big whiff of his thermal is far more difficult. 

(Past the scent of fresh laundry, he smells like cedar and smoke and in the crease of the seams, something muskier lingers. 

You decide you're going to steal it right then.)

He shows you to the laundry room, shuffling a load of brightly colored girl's clothes from the dryer before giving you the rundown on how to use them. You're not sure what about you gives him the idea you don't know how to operate a washer, but you decide not to comment on it when it means him standing too close, the warmth of his body seeping into your back.

The spiel about Emily's schedule and needs is delivered as he shoves his feet into a brown pair of loafers. They match his belt perfectly, visible where he keeps his fitted button up tucked into pressed blue slacks. It's hard to pay attention to what he's saying but you're fairly certain you catch the gist of it. No strawberries or house parties, bed by ten at the latest and only if she's well behaved. He knows you have his number saved because he texted you about your availability this evening earlier in the week, but that doesn't stop him from standing over your shoulder to ensure he's still in there. You think you hear him snort when he sees he's saved as 'Mr. Price' with a money bag emoji but you steadfastly refuse to think too hard about it.

When everything finally meets his expectations, John scoops Emily up in a big bear hug and peppers her in kisses which leave her squealing in ticklish delight.

Emily hangs from him happily, little arms wrapped around his neck as if she'll never let go. You hear him whisper something conspiratorial directly into her ear which makes the girl giggle in delight before shooting you a wink which has your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Likely, he's just telling her to behave for you and being cheeky about it, but he's far too handsome to be running around winking at young ladies like that and you've half a mind to tell him.

Maybe you'll pencil that in after your sock sliding. He does say you're allowed to text for any reason, after all.

"And I mean it. Don't want to waste my evening there anyway," he grumbles, setting his daughter down. 

"So stay here with me, daddy!" she implores. "I'm much cuter anyway." Little shit even strikes a pose.

John chuckles, hand heavy when he pets her hair. "The company here is much better," he hedges, and for a split second you think you see his eyes flick to you. "But unfortunately a man's gotta endure some boring business dinners from time to time if he wants to get ahead in life."

A beat passes while Emily seems to think that over. John starts his car from his fob while he lets her digest that, the very picture of placating indulgence. Vaguely, you want him to look at you - or through you - like that and then immediately decide that's a desire best left uninspected. 

"You're out every night!" Emily gripes, no real heat. It's the kind of thing you know will bug her later in life but for now she's too busy reveling in all the late night pizza parties and gifts he no doubt showers her with to mask his own guilt.

You've been there before.

"That's true," John allows, brief flick of regret across his face. "Which means you gotta be good for Ms. Messy so she'll come back."

Emily gives you a look as if she's not very excited by that prospect and you're so offended you forget to correct John about your position being regular. 

John laughs when you scoff, a harsh bark that stops your snide remark in its tracks. "Behave, you two," he says by way of farewell. "And try to get along."

Shrugging, Emily bounds away in search of better entertainment. John's big hand is on his ridiculous doorknob as he waves absently and then you're remembering so quickly there's no time to dress up your request when you call after him for pizza money.

A beat passes, Mr. Price blinks at you. You sheepishly tack on a please and he hums, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Suppose I can't expect you not to ruin my reputation as a good tipper," he grumbles and you gape when he hands you a crisp hundred note.

"That's way too much," you blurt, not even reaching to take it from him.

John just shrugs, tucks it into the hip pocket of his own pajama pants while you're still stiff as a board, winks as he tells you it's just a tip.

It's only after the door snicks shut on silent hinges behind him that your brain catches up enough to catch his double entendre 

***

Emily is a sweet girl, if a little catty at times but she's endlessly amusing to tease so you're honestly surprised when bedtime sneaks up on you both. Despite your chosen profession, you don't usually get along with kids as well as you do with her. She even carts herself off to bed with little complaint, an absolute unheard of when it comes to first nights with a new family. 

It's how you end up on the couch with too much time to spare, bored in a house that's smarter than you and unsure when you'll be relieved. You flick through the endless list of streaming services briefly, settling on some mindless comedy because you don't want to watch any girly romances and mess up Mr. Price's algorithm. 

Well, the messing it up part sounds endlessly entertaining, but not worth the embarrassment of him knowing the kind of stuff you blubber to at home. 

It's a fine enough distraction until you settle into the couch, the collar of John's shirt riding up until you can comfortably cover your face with it. It still smells like him, enough to deter you from going downstairs and swapping it for your own clothes. It's not a problem until the masculine scent and the boring movie have you reaching for your phone, scrolling through steamy romances until you find something to fantasize about. And even that's not a problem until the author earns their rating, the depiction of the female lead's satisfaction so explicitly rendered it has you rubbing your thighs together, head on a swivel lest you be surprised by a sleepless little girl.

By the time your face feels aflame and your panties feel soaked, you're debating texting John to see if he'd mind you crashing in a guest room when you jump a foot at a noise behind you, turning to find that very same man not two feet behind you.

That fucking door.

"Could've texted," you accuse, and Mr. Price holds up two hands in mock surrender.

"So could've you," he drawls and then smirks at your confused look, drawing in a rather pointed breath through his nose. "Told you to text if you needed help with anything."

It's just subtle enough you're not sure you would have gotten it if not for the graphic descriptions of heady scent your nose had just been stuck in. You stammer something that might be an apology, though you're not entirely sure why. Suddenly you feel like the frog being boiled alive.

He's kind enough not to let you flounder for too long, moving on like he's the picture of innocence with a heavy hand on the back of the couch, muscles of his forearm bunching when he leans over the back of it, just this side of too close. "Everything go okay, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Price," you recite, the fight to keep your legs uncrossed and neutral a conscious thing. You do not need to prove him right by overacting the blushing virgin.

"And Emily behaved?"

"Well," you hedge, voice high and humorous. You're desperate to get to familiar ground and it's the quickest path, unfolding before you well-trod and welcoming. Parents love when you can joke about their kids and John's no exception, eyes crinkling in delight as he conjures up whatever image he has of his daughter in mind.

"She can be a handful," he agrees even though you never said that. "Not so bad you'll refuse me for Wednesday though, I hope?"

You balk. "Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?"

"Aye, sorry for the late notice - again. But you'd be getting out of here a little earlier, at least."

"Mr. Price, I have…" A paper due, a social life that's slowly dying, responsibilities. "I'm busy that night. The Laswells -."

"I've already fixed it with Kate. You can bring Colin here for the evening, Gina will pick him up when she gets off work."

"But… Wait, I can bring him?"

"Well they'll need you for the morning, right? I won't need you until Emily's due back from preschool." He shrugs, the motion carrying him down until he leans both forearms on the back of the couch. "It just makes the most sense."

"But that's clear across town?"

"Oh, I'll pay for your gas, of course."

"Hang on. Am I picking up Emily, too?"

"Oh, would you? Thanks, you're such a dear."

You blink, overwhelmed. This was only supposed to be a one time favor for Kate's friend, you can't juggle school and two part time babysitting gigs. But you don't know how to tell him that in a way Kate hasn't already. "I'm not sure how I feel about watching both kids at once."

The look he gives you is borderline lecherous, though you're unsure why. "I'm sure you can handle it," he rumbles, voice suddenly much deeper. He clears his throat. "And we'd both pay you full rate, of course. Only fair."

You scoff. "Well yeah, I don't offer a group rate." 

Your jaw clicks closed audibly when his gaze turns hungry again. "Our loss."

Swallowing past the nerves in your throat, you eye him over openly. Technically, John hasn't moved any closer but the way he looms over you now feels somehow much more imminent than it had only moments ago; threatens to pin you in place lest you move out from under him. "I have to go get my clothes... I'll think on it?"

John smiles, just slightly forced. "'Course, kiddo. Need me to walk you downstairs? Basement can be a bit scary after dark."

"Um. No. Thanks."

He breaks away when you do, unfolding to his full, impressive height. "I'll be in the kitchen," he offers and then he lets you get away with no further comment.

Outside of Mr. Price's vaguely concerning influence, it's easy to see you'd be stupid not to take the job. You don't like how pushy he seems, but if you've already given up your day to work anyway, it's a no-brainer to take on the second income while you're at it. Besides, the beauty of under the table jobs like this was you could back out any time you wanted so there really wasn't much harm in taking the man who tips delivery drivers one hundred percent on for a few jobs, see how well it panned out for you. Even if you're fairly certain he's flirting.

Like, extremely certain.

But he was still annoying about it and you didn't like being taken advantage of or being teased like that, so you don't feel bad when you leave his comfy henley on under your sweatshirt, march back upstairs with your spoils well hidden.

In the kitchen, John inspects the label of a golden scotch you can't pronounce, thick fingers drumming on the counter silently. His watch catches the pendant light, a thick stripe of silver nestled in his dark hair. He's got his shirt unbuttoned like a whore, just far enough you can see a spot of the matching pelt there, your brain helpfully supplying you with memories of how he'd looked earlier, shirtless and dripping with cream. 

Shaving cream. Dripping with shaving cream.

"Are you old enough to drink?" He asks bluntly, pointing at the matching tumblers before him when all you manage is a blink in response.

"No. No, thank you!" You clarify when the man looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. It's enough to settle your nerves a bit, get your footing back underneath yourself. About time he's the one left floundering. "Sorry, I am old enough, but I gotta drive in a minute here."

John's quick to recover, pouring himself a neat glass as he shrugs. "Could spend the night."

"Well," you hedge, still worrying you're reading too far into all this. If it's too hot in here, you blame the three layers of tops you have on. "Wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. You'll see me again on Wednesday, after all."

His smile is just as honeyed and warm as his drink. "There's a good girl," he rumbles and it's a physical fight not to let your knees buckle when he comes close, another hundred note tucked into your front pocket. 

"That's way too much again, John," you breathe and his grin turns patronizing.

"John, is it?" He makes as if to snatch away the money and you take a step back, out of his range. He just grins at you over the rim of his glass, lets you keep your distance.

"S-sorry, Mr. Price." After a moment's deliberation, you ask if he'd like the money back and he snorts.

"Cute." Placing his drink on the counter with a clatter, he steps close and guides you to the door with a hand on your back. Part of you thinks your dismissal is a bit sudden, but you can't be too upset by it when you just want to hide under a pile of blankets until your nerves settle, maybe replace your pillow case with his shirt. "No, kiddo, I don't want that back. Just teasing. Over tipper, remember?"

"Right. Um. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says magnanimously, drawing to a stop next to your shoes and pushing them toward you with socked feet. He does nothing to hide his slight distaste at the sight of so much mud and you try not to let shame make you meek again, remembering instead how annoyed you'd been about his stupid door and his stupid lawn when you'd left them there. It's hard to maintain the feeling when he offers to walk you to your car, your weak little thank you just as pathetic as the one that came before.

John's the perfect gentleman, his hand returning to the small of your back as he ushers you down the drive. He tells you to text him when you get home safe and checks for fingers before closing the door. He even watches as you pull out, waving at you happily as you drive off. You spend the whole commute wondering what you've gotten yourself into and if you'll ever be able to look Kate in the eye again if you fuck her friend.

John calls you kiddo again when you text him that you've made it home safe, tells you to sleep well.

In the morning he asks if you've stolen his shirt.

[kombuuuu]

Omg I just saw that u write for atsv!! So I was wondering if u could do one with a female reader x hobie where the readers quite reserved to everyone in public (maybe she’d been a spidey longer so she’s lost more people? Idk why she’d be reserved bc I cannot write for shot lmao) and people think she’s super cold but then they like?? Walk in, and she’s like open and warm with Hobie (it doesn’t matter if she’s loud or not) and they kinda just look at the scene in shock like wtf and Pav is sort of smug bc he knew all along and then it comes out that they’re dating?

It Sounds Nice coming from You.

Hobie Brown x Fem!Spidey Reader

“I totally called it.” “Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

kisses him cause he my bf (-compulsive liar)

People whispered about you. Spider people and the general public alike. Your city spreading gossip, rumours and misinformation to try and figure out who you were, but that was a Spiderwoman affair, every one of them dealt with it.

But having people same as you talk in hushed tones, glancing at you as you walked past. That’s a new kind of feeling.

The Spider Society didn’t exactly favour you, per se. There was nothing inherently wrong with you either, so no reason to get rid of you. But you were just so silent. No one knew a thing about you.

You mostly kept to yourself around base, never really trying too hard to make friends, you were well known enough not to be questioned. A loyal fighter was what you were recognised for, not your personality, your abilities.

There were still some people that managed to creep their way in though, their hearts so full of love, you didn’t know how to refuse them.

So you conceded. You let them in, and begged to any deity that would listen not to take them from you.

—

Hobie knew you as someone who could listen. Who understood him rather than challenged his beliefs. Not that he had any, but that was the point.

Your lack of input made him feel accepted in going on tangents of why he thought the way he did. And you just sat, and listened. A kind heart and an open mind.

Which eventually led to him falling for that kind heart. Tripping over his own feet to please your silent self. To get those small smiles or amused huffs out of you.

The occasional time you spoke to him, under hushed breaths and fond tones. God, he couldn’t take it.

The way your accent forms over each and every word, how your voice was akin to honey malt, sweet and addicting. Only giving him small doses, but he was the only one who got those doses. Only him, and you, and the words you spoke or times you listened.

He knows that people thought you were cold, or unloving. And maybe you were at first, maybe he thought you were. But he figured you out fast. Where you couldn’t talk, you could touch. Brushing your hands over his arm to get his attention. Linking your hand through his and dragging him away from people you don’t want to be near, he would smile down at you and follow along like a lost puppy. How your brows would crease a certain way, or nose would scrunch a little when you found distaste in things. He was a fool for you.

Where you lacked in verbal communication, you strived in every other category. So when some Spider-people decided to come to him, urging him for answers about you.

Telling him that he wasn’t sure you even wanted to be here—, Hobie would shut down the conversation quicker than thought to be possible. Giving a simple “She’s just quiet.”, and ditching the moment the words are out of his mouth.

It’d worked—, for a while. Ignoring the demeaning or conspiratorial comments made about you by spider-people a-kind. But eventually it got the better of him. Having him borderline snarl at the people who would talk shit right in front of his, or your, face.

“She’s silent, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. Peter 48 said she was like that ‘cause she killed her parents, made ‘er real quiet.”

“Jesus christ. Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s a freak.”

“Dude—“ One of the two spiders, the first one, turned to Hobie. Spider-senses ringing. Hobie stated back at them, deadpan and unblinking. “Don’t.”

The younger spider paled, quickly trying to backtrack.

“Hey— Hobie. I— Didn’t mean it. Was just repeating what I heard, ykno—“

“Cut it, mate.”

He squeaked, head tilting down in respect, the other spider following.

“Stop spreading shit rumours like ‘at. It ain’t fun when you’re the subject. ‘S it?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

Hobie walked past them smoothly, brushing shoulders with the kid just to scare him a little more. When he was far enough away, he heard them start to whisper to one another. “Fuck man, that was close. He could tell Miguel, and then we’d be out.”

“Jesus..”

He felt rather accomplished that day.

—

It was days later where you were brought up around him again. He’d been texting you, the upper half of his body hanging from Miguel’s platform, his wicks shifting every time he moved.

Miguel and Lyla were talking amongst themselves, clicking through holograms and sorting things out for potential anomalies.

Jess, Pavitr and Gwen had walked into the room chatting, Pav and Gwen expressing their excitement rather loudly.

He glanced up at them from his phone, you were still typing.

immm gonna b homein ten just be patient >:(

I’m patient 🦑

u werent 2 seconds ago

I don’t subscribe to consistency.

Or this slandering talk

ur consistently lame

also why squid

I’m never lame. Also, he’s cute

hes not real

Don’t do this me

reeeeeal tasty tho

What is wrong with you.

numnnum crunchhhh crrcchhh numnum ( > _ <)

Inhumane.

mmmmmm yummyyyy

He can’t die, he’s immortal

The ‘Texting’ bubble popped up on his screen.

“Hey, Hobie!”

Pavitr was running up to him, looking from his lowered position below the elevated platform.

He slipped further down the platform, slumping slowly as he greeted Pavitr upside down.

“Pav, my guy!”

Pavitr bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wide at his friend.

“What’chu doing up there?”

His eyes darted to Miguel and Lyla, ending their conversation.

Smirking, he whispered to Hobie, “With the grump.”

Hobie snickered, gaining a disapproving look from Jess.

“Textin’ [Name].”

Just then, the next message from you showed.

immortal ??? how consistent of him to live

He grinned, typing back quickly while Pavitr eyed him knowingly.

He’s a squid, he’s more fluid than anything

ihu

terrivle joke

No, you don’t

And it was great

wtvr >:P

Hobie grabbed the ledge of the platform and swung down, landing softly in front of Pavitr and pocketed his phone.

“Glad ya ‘ere. Those two can’t keep it quiet, aye?” He said, pointing back towards Lyla and Miguel.

“They do argue very often.”

“Nah, Lyla don’t argue, mate. Just the hardass.”

Pavitr snorted and Hobie softly punched his stomach in jest, earning one from Pav to the chest, and starting a round of playful punching. Pavitr laughed as Hobie brought him into a headlock, scrunching his fist over the shorter man’s hair and rubbing it in.

They let up when they heard Lyla teasing Miguel for something again, giggling to each other at his expense.

He threw an arm over his fluffy haired friend and leaned his weight on him. Pav smiled up at him once more, brighter now. Before he could speak, Gwen’s voice echoed through the barren room.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.”

Hobie turned his head towards her, dropping himself off Pav and standing up straight again. Smiling at her as she reached him, and went in to hug her briefly. When they disconnected, he spoke again.

“Yeah—, No clue then, mini-punk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Neither big bad has said nothin’ to me yet.”

“Seriously, are we going to skip over that?”

“Maybe they’re waiting until [Name] is here!” Pavitr chimed in.

“What does mini-punk even mean!”

“Not exactly, Pavitr.”

Jess, who now was standing next to Miguel, spoke.

The trio turned to face the two elder spider-people.

“Huh?”

“We wanted to have a discussion with the three of you—.” Miguel put his hands on his hips, authority that Hobie only saw as a challenge emanating from his figure.

“—Away from [Name], she’s already been consulted.”

Hobies eyes narrowed, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something a lot less unfriendly, and a lot more cautious.

Jess caught wind of the younger man’s tense stature and shuffled forward a step, not unwilling to intervene.

“Nothing too bad, just—,” He paused for a moment, the dense light from the reflective floors making the contours of his face pop.

Hobie watched with batted breath, posture only slightly relaxing from the statement. The crease in his brows begging to be drawn, yet his pokerface was something to be beat.

“,—Addressing her.. lack of communication.”

A shiver raked down the brit’s body, physically restraining himself from chewing this man out with a rebuttal.

“Wha’ ‘bout it?”

His gruff voice was a stark indicator of his annoyance.

“Well, ignoring the rumours following her—,”

Hobie, the usually rather sensical man, was getting more agitated by the minute.

“,—We’ve noticed a certain independence that she holds. Something not many others do.”

The punk quirked a brow.

“So?” Gwen was the one to talk now.

“That doesn’t seem very serious, ‘f you ask me.” She laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Something Pavitr seemed a tad scared to do. There was a lot of competition in the air right now, he wasn’t very competitive.

“Exactly, it’s not.”

Jess cut in, seeing how terribly Miguel started this conversation made her cringe.

“It’s not—, but,” She shook her head, hair falling prettily with every move. “,Her ‘independence’, has been more akin to ‘lack of teamwork’. In some cases.”

Gwen started to speak again, her eyebrows furrowed, just as Hobies now were. He was right about brewing with offence.

“So!—,” Jess cut her off before she could begin.

“So there’s no need for her to have distractions anymore. From now on, she will not be going on team missions. Just solo’s.”

“Wha—! You’re cutting her off?!”

“Gwen, it’s not like that.”

“Like hell it isnt! She’s a part of us!”

“Doesn’t this mean she’s going to be in more danger?” Pavitr spoke up, concerned.

“No— well, not unless—,”

“Unless!? You’ve gotta’ be kidding!” Gwen choked out.

“And what does ‘consulted’ mean! Did she agree to this?!—“

They continued to argue, Gwen and Pavitr advocating for your teamwork skills while Miguel and Jess had made up their mind.

“No communication,” He pinched the bridge of his nose “,Fuck off.” Hobie scoffed under his breath, turning to leave and storming out.

The voices of Miguel, Jess and his friends following him through the portal to you.

—

“You agreed to this?”

lIts not like they’re wrong, I just hold you all back.”

He huffed, exasperated. Not only were you putting yourself in danger, you were doing it alone. And letting some guy who has a borderline vendetta against teens be the call for it.

“Now, you know that’s not tr—“

His stern voice was cut off by the frown on your face quivering. A due sign of you nearing to cry.

“Oh, shit— C’mon dollface, c’mere.”

He sat down on your shared bed, scooting against the headboard and bringing you into his lap. A soothing hand ran over your back as you tried to reel in your embarrassment.

“I really didn’t mean to agree.”

Hobie sighed, pushing your head into his neck and watching how the rings adorning his fingers rose goosebumps in their path. “I know, sweet’eart.”

And he did know, the moment that it had been a meeting addressed solely with just Jess and Miguel, he knew that Peter had been excluded for a reason. That Miles had been sent after an anomaly as an unknowing distraction for Peter to chase after. He knew those two intimidated you. And the fear of parental disappointment was something they used on you—, young, sweet you. That only ever got hurt because she didn’t want her problems to hurt others, or herself.

You had opened up to him once. Told him what everyone twisted when they whispered sickening words. A story unlike the rumours crowding your reputation.

How no, you hadn’t killed your parents, or siblings, or whatever messed up thing people claimed of you.

You told him how you hadn’t been bitten yet. How, when your family was killed, you hadn’t had any powers. So you couldn’t save them. And it wasn’t even canon. Nothing could’ve stopped them from dying, but it didn’t have to happen. And that was the guilt that weighed on you. How no matter the hardships your parents put you through, a kid neglected of attention. You still would rather die a million times for them to live once.

And it’s all “would”, and never “can”.

Other spider-people don’t have to live with the fact their parents died for nothing. Was what you said. A messed up thought, no doubt. And one you felt guilty for. But the sole continuer of this sorrow-filled silence. Which has worked well enough to protect you so far, why is Hobie one to break that?

Because you love him, you guess.

His hands slid further down your back, resting on the curve of your waist in his lap.

His breathing soothed yours. The shuddering breaths you had been giving to stop your tears, also stopped.

“You wanna talk about your day instead, luv?”

“Yeah, thank you Hobie.”

“Love when you say my name, Babydoll. So pretty and sweet like that.”

Wrapping your hands around his lithe waist, you hummed. Beginning your recount of the day in the honeyed, reserved tone you’d always held.

—

Around half an hour had passed with Gwen arguing against Miguel before Peter showed up, Moles in tow.

“What’s all this about?” His slippers flopped when he walked and the baby carrier strapped to his chest shifted every time a sleeping MayDay squirmed to get comfortable.

“This—, This asshole!”

“Gwen.” Jess chastised her.

Gwen ignored it, pointing at Miguel accusingly. “—Kicked [Name] off the team!”

“Not kicked.”

“You said she wasn’t going with us anymore.”

Miles looked offended by the prospect. “Why?”

“She’s not kicked, she’s simply better off solo.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault then!”

“Gwendolyne.”

“All of you, stop.”

Peters voice ended the bickering, having learnt since fatherhood exactly how to use said voice. “We are not sending an 18 year old on solo mission against anomalies.”

“Since when did you have a say—“

“Miguel. You’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let that happen. That’s a kid.”

“She’s an adult.”

“When it’s convenient to you.”

Miguel pinched his nose bridge, growling under his breath. Jess spared a glance at him before wincing and backing down from the conversation.

“She doesn’t talk to people.”

“I’m sure she does, just not to you.” Gwen cut in.

“Yeah, her and Hobie talk a lot.” Miles prepped up on his toes. Pavitr smiled and hummed an agreement.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Peter gave him another disapproving look. “Disregarding that. The fact you decided to not consult me on this decision is another reason that it’s not happening.”

“Consult? Like some council, please.” Miguel scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and turning to open a holographic tab.

“Yes, like some council. Someone’s gotta be the brains ‘round here.” The father joked, coddling MayDay as she cooed.

“I’m going to go inform [Name] the retraction of this decision.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oops too late, portals open.”

“Can I come with?” Miles jogged after Peter, hopping quickly through the portal, Peter, Gwen and Pavitr following. Not without Gwen flipping Miguel off as she went. “We’ll sort something out, she can go duos with Hobie.” Jess put a hand on his shoulder, watching as he stared off to where the portal had previously been with a sided expression before sighing.

“Yeah..”

“That went great.” Lyla dragged, popping up on Miguel’s shoulder.

“I’m a second away from shutting you off.”

The AI blew a raspberry at her companion, and disappeared.

—

He had went off on a tangent about some movie he saw, or song he’d heard. Hobie honestly couldn’t remember, he was too focused on you. The way your voice sounded, how open you were being with him when every now and then you would respond to him. The hearts in his eyes were probably from how heavy his own was beating. Staring at you like a sinner to a prophet.

You had moved down from his lap, now curled against his side, head leaning on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest. At some point, the movie you had been watching before Hobie showed up was unpaused, and serving as background noise for his quiet rambling.

Both of you pressed under a blanket to beat the cold, and the darkness outside your window being killed off by the lights strung across your room. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this cozy, this utterly comfortable.

Sparks of colour strung out of nowhere, neither of them really seeing it at first, up until it spat out Miles. He stumbled forward a little and went to greet you before taking on the scene. You and Hobie cuddled up on a bed, blanket wrapped around you both, fire going, people singing. He was exaggerating the last parts, but it felt necessary for something so unexpected.

“Hey—, guys.” The awkward teen managed, before Peter walked through the portal with the other two in tow.

“Woah, no mean to interrupt.”

Peter put his hands up in surrender. Hobie snorted, it wasn’t like you were incapable of affection, It just seems he was the only one who got it.

“I totally called it.”

“Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

He pouted, before giggling and waltzing over to sit next to the both of you. Flopping down on the bed and turning to watch the TV.

“Oh my god, I love this movie!”

“Favourite character?” You inquired. A collective raise of eyebrows was shown throughout the room.

Gwen shuffling over to sit down as well, a baffled look on her face.

“The horse.”

“Pff- Max?” Hobie snorted at Pav. Giving the still rather confused Miles - Peter duo a reassuring smile. And greeting Gwen with a fist bump, she smiled wearily at him before her smirk filled out and she punched his arm in congrats.

Pavitr nodded and laughed, gasping excitedly when the scene on the lake showed up. “Perfect timing.”

You glanced up at Hobie, Miles and Peter finding somewhere to sit as well, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled at you, bringing you in closer while Pavitr sat smug.

The air of confusion slowly dissipated into something accepting, none but Pavitr had really expected you to be so.. Open. But they came to find they didn’t exactly mind it.

—

Everyone had left by now, the knowledge that you didn’t have to go on dangerous missions alone anymore leaving Hobie satisfied and you comforted.

“You doin’ right, babe?”

“Yeah, Hobes.”

You gripped his shirt a tad tighter and yawned, eyes drifting more shut as the minutes ticked down. “Wanna go t’ bed?”

“We’re in bed, dummy.”

He shot you a playful look.

“Don’ ge’ smart with me, young lady.”

You smiled at him before he made the decision to shuffle you both down in bed to get comfortable, switching off the lights by the outlet. He moved back to you, letting his whole body rest near yours, and letting you initiate any contact wanted.

A leg wrapped around his, and your arm still picking the fabric of his shirt.

“Sleep, sweethear’.”

“Mhmmph.”

Hobies breathe lulled you to sleep, white noise against your racing thoughts. He watched you fall, your trust in him to keep you safe was enough to make a man weak. He smiled, looking out your shared window at the city life below.

No crime, no anomaly or misshaped villain could possibly drag him away from you.

—

BAMBAMBAM 🦑‼️

[kyber-crystal]

red thread || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: fate has a funny way of bringing people together, and it’s made no exception for you and hangman. you’ve grown up together; there's not a day that goes by in which you aren't glued to each others' sides. as kids, you promised each other that if you were still single at 30 you'd get married. but when that day finally arrives, you wonder just how much things will change.

words: ~2.3k

warnings: nothing. unless you’re like me and commitment scares you, then yeah lmao. hangman is an absolute gentleman in this though :) biggest TW is my writing...sorry. idk what happened. some slight mentions of angst and injury but nothing graphic :)

a/n: mannn my writing has gone downhill idk how yall other talented writers do it. i wish i could write that well 😭but, i’m proud of this...plotwise, at least! (my fics are doing so bad for some reason while everyone else seems to be blowing up??? idk) btw, the first part of this fic takes place two years before tgm

It was 1:30 a.m, and you couldn’t fall asleep. 

It seemed that Hangman had the same idea as you as he told you to meet him outside the Hard Deck in five. The coastal air and Jake Seresin was the perfect combination to help you unwind, so of course you said yes. 

“There she is,” he grinned as he offered a helping hand. “My favorite fellow insomniac.”

“Nightmares keep you up, Jake?” you teased. “What’s the matter this time?”

“Same as you. Don’t feel like sleeping yet,” Hangman answered. “Can you believe it? We’re awake, and Fanboy and Payback aren’t.”

“Now that’s a first,” you laughed. “Thought I’d never live to see that day, but here we are.”

“We’re making history day by day.”

“You know…sometimes,” you breathed out as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I wonder what it’d be like if we never met.”

“Didn’t you ask that same question fifteen years ago?”

“We were much younger back then. It’s different now.”

“Well, then…I don’t like to imagine it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“It’d be weird. You’ve always been a big part of my life, so to think you almost could’ve not been in it…it’s weird. Uncomfortable, even.”

“Yeah, it is weird…” your voice trailed off as you lingered on the thought. You’ve always done everything together. How different would your lives be now if you hadn’t become friends; hadn’t stayed in touch through college? “But don’t be sad, because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

Hangman gave you a light punch in the arm. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

“You know, Y/N…there’s one more thing.”

“Uh oh.”

“Hear me out,” he started. “Remember that deal we made when we were kids?”

“The one about helping each other bury a body if needed, or getting married?”

“The second one…I thought the first was a given since the day we met. That’s something all friends are supposed to do for each other, right? Bury bodies, hide their trails…all that good stuff.”

“What about the second one?”

“We’re turning 30 soon,” he recounted. Any and all traces of cockiness were completely wiped off his face. “And we said that if we’re both still single by the time our 30th birthdays roll around, we’d get married.”

You smiled as you revisited the memory: wide-eyed and curious, and so blissfully unaware with the only worry in the world was whether you’d grow up together or not. “You still remembered all that?”

“Of course I did. You still in, or what?”

“I guess so…I mean, what else do I have to lose?”

The two of you fall back into your comfortable silence, and he wraps you up into his arms. 

TWO YEARS LATER

As usual, the base is busy and rather chaotic: day after day you’re busy filing reports and training. This causes you to become prone to forgetting the littler things in your life, so you assign Bob to keep track of them for you. He had the best memory of anyone you knew—that man kept mental notes of everything. 

“What do I have to do today, Floyd? Any events…”

“Uhhh…” Bob thought for a moment as you took a long drink of water. “Dinner with Phoenix. Do laundry. Don’t get yelled at by Cyclone for the 19th time (You’re only one point behind Bradshaw, he’s at 20). Grocery shopping. And most importantly…yours’ and Hangman’s birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I completely forgot,” you swore under your breath. “How could I forget…”

“You have some time, so don’t worry. Five days.”

“Only five days?” your eyes widened. “I have to run through four more simulations over the next two. I can’t plan everything in the remaining three.”

“If you pay Garcia in Doordash deliveries, he’ll help out. You know he minored in art.”

“That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

After you finish your final exercise that week, you pass out, but luckily, Hangman’s right there to catch you so you don’t get a concussion. Bless that man—he always seemed to be around wherever you went and you were very grateful for it. 

You were delirious and couldn’t walk straight, so as much as you claimed you were okay, he wouldn’t believe you. 

“I’m taking you home because you’re in no condition to be wandering around by yourself. The birthday planning can wait. You’ve tired yourself out enough as it is and you don’t want to make things worse.” So you let him help you get into his car, then drive you home and lead you inside. Then, he forced you to go upstairs to take a hot shower and relax while he cooked up dinner for you. 

Though Hangman admired your determined spirit, it scared the hell out of him because you wouldn’t know when to stop yourself. 

“I got that from you though! Who’s the one I spend the most time around?” you’d claim in response to that  argument. You weren’t wrong—it was a quality you picked up from him many years ago.

You woke up the next morning to the smell of French toast and jam, which lessens the tension in your shoulders right away. Amidst the early morning light drifting through the windows he stands out like a priceless work of art in a museum. You struggle to tear your eyes off him. 

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you rested your chin on his shoulder and exhaled. “Hey.”

“Morning. You sleep okay? How’s that headache of yours?”

“I’m alright.” You closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar. “This smells nice.”

If Hangman was tired, you couldn’t tell. “Woke up at 6:30 to relearn the recipe for you. It’s been a while, it took three burnt batches to get the hang of things.”

“You woke up an hour early to cook for me?” 

“Why else? Of course I did,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

You sat down at the kitchen island together and ate your breakfast in silence. Something about this moment feels more domestic than all the others you’ve shared in the past, and you can’t help but smile. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of eternity like this...

“Y/N, there’s some honey on your chin.”

You blinked, trying to find it. “Where?”

“Hold on a sec.” Hangman took his napkin and rubbed gently at the corner of your lip to wipe it off. For a brief moment, you could feel his warm breath fanning across your face. You stayed as still as possible. “There.”

If anyone looked in from the outside, it was another simple day in the life of a longtime couple. But for you and Jake, it’s always been like this. Showing up at each others’ place wasn’t unusual for either of you; if anything, it was quite normal. 

“...Thanks.”

“Yeah. You got any ideas in mind? For the big day.”

“Whatever you want is what I want.”

“Funny enough, that’s what I was about to tell you,” he replied.” 

You locked eyes with each other and laughed. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will.”

Less than three days until everything as you knew it would change forever...if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified. What if he changed his mind and left you in the dust, all alone? You weren’t ready to face the cold truth. 

Hangman offered a simple celebration: food and drinks at the Hard Deck with the crew, then some karaoke if you were up for it after. He starts it off by serenading you at the bar, reaching a hand out to you as he sang your favorite Billy Joel track. You let him lead you out to the dance floor and spin you around, and he’s equal parts addicting as he is entertaining. 

Thirty candles, and you agree on blowing out fifteen each—somehow, by some miracle, you manage to do exactly that, and it’s perfect. Then Fanboy yells that he and Rooster want a rematch with you in Just Dance…so you go at it for two hours straight, until sweat is dripping down your face and your sweater grows hot. 

You’re burnt out, and he can see the look in your eyes as you step aside to let Phoenix play. “You want to head out? There’s something I want to show you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gives Maverick a look, and the captain shoots him a subtle nod in return. He takes this as his signal to put his hand on the small of your back and lead you out the door. 

You can’t help but laugh a little as you get outside. “Is this Mav’s motorcycle?”

“No…” Hangman shifts from foot to foot, feigning cluelessness. 

“Did you steal it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s his, isn’t it.”

“Look, he let me borrow it for the night. It’s not stealing if he says it’s okay…besides, he never noticed when I did steal from him last week—”

“What did you—do you even have a motorcycle license?”

“Got it a year ago. I thought, ‘maybe I’ll take my best girl on a ride someday, so who knows if it’ll come in handy’. So here we are now.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Alright, now come on.” He swung his leg over the side and motioned for you to sit behind him. The cushion was not in fact, cushiony, and you found yourself growing colder by the second.

The bike burst forward without warning. You let out a small yelp and immediately wrapped your arms around Hangman’s waist—which was ridiculously firm…had he been working out more lately?—as you went speeding down the road. 

“If I die, I’m gonna kill you and haunt you in your sleep,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket. “Even in death, I’ll stick to you always.”

“That sounds both morbid and weirdly romantic.”

“Shut up.”

Several minutes later you found yourselves by the cliffs, standing high over the ocean, and deja vu hits almost right away. After we go on this make up date, he had said, I’m going to find that guy who messed you up and mess him up. Then we’re going to go home, I’ll let you wear any of my sweatshirts you want, and we’ll watch true crime. One where someone like that jerk dies. Okay? Okay.

You’re miles away from Top Gun, miles away from your jet and your uniform and everything you’ve ever known, but you’ve never felt more at home than now. It’s in this moment in which you realize all you really need in the world is Jake, the sky above you, and the sea below you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that he’s getting fidgety. He can’t stop stuffing his hands in and out of his pockets or running them through his hair—he’s restless. The action takes you by surprise a bit. 

“Why are you all tensed up?” you questioned. “It’s just me and a nice sunset. We’ve done things like this many times.”

“But it’s not just you and a sunset,” he explained. “I’m supposed to be asking you the most important question of our lives. That’s a big deal, sweetheart.”

Your heart spluttered to a stop. “Are you…”

“Let me finish,” Jake cut in. “If you could be quiet for a few minutes…that would help. I’m nervous.”

“Jake Seresin, nervous?” you teased. “That’s a first.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Give me a break.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice…for now.”

“I haven’t slept at all in the past week. I went to eleven different jewelry stores around San Diego but nothing seemed to scream ‘Y/N’. So, I decided to take a trip out of state.” He cleared his throat, and reached into his jacket pocket. You saw his hand shake as he did so. “Out of the country. That mini mission I went on while you were training? I was in Canada. Victoria, to be specific. Maverick and Rooster came along to help out.”

Now in his hand was a small velvet box, and inside was the most breathtaking ring you’d ever seen. “Diamond and ruby. They don’t sell plain red strings for rings…so I had them design this. The red thread of fate…the one that brought you into my life. We were kids when we promised to spend our lives together, if circumstances permitted. And I know we might’ve been young, but I’d be lying if I said I could imagine myself with someone that wasn’t you. There was a part of me that wished you wouldn’t find anyone before this day came along. It’s you, Y/N. It always has been.

“I’m not going to get down on one knee. I’m not going to give you a long, cheesy speech about divine power and soulmates. But I’m going to tell you this: you’re my forever, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s getting cold out so I’ll cut to the chase: what I’m saying here is that I’m asking you to marry me.”

The world fell silent as you replied with a shaky nod, holding out a trembling hand as Jake slid the golden band onto your ring finger. Neither of you made a sound, and you swore you felt time stop and the ground crack wide open beneath your feet.

tags, including those who may be interested: @callsignbarb @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @dilfsandtherapy @purelyfiction @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @newlibrary @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @thisismypointofview @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @lunamooncole @coastingline @chaoticassidy @hbstre @fantasias-creativebubble @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @midnightdevotion @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @cosm1cfae @tallrock35 @uwiuwi @elenavampire21 @aerangi @hoedameronsworld @whotfatemywaffles @littlebadariell

[loaksky]

Hi I was wondering if you wrote or if you will write a part 2 to neighbour Ellie x reader, cause I would love to see how their relationship will progress and maybe there can be a bit of jealous Ellie and insecure reader, in like maybe they meet their exes or something like that

neighbor!ellie x sunshine!fem reader, hurt + comfort / fluff / smut MDNI!! or we’re beefing!! / established relationship, wc: 5.2k

synopsis: things between you and ellie seem to be going great! that is until you pay her a visit at work to drop off lunch and find that the threads that tie her and an overfriendly coworker tangle too much for your liking.

content warnings: language, slightly mean!ellie makes a return, reader isn’t necessarily insecure, but a little unsure of the circumstances, 18 + content / filthy make-up sex that consists of: brief shower-sex, scissoring, fingering / oral (reader & ellie!receiving), thigh-riding, so much kissing and mushy feelings.

author’s note: in love with this idea ! been mulling over how to expand on their relationship & i feel like this is a great segue ! hcs below; leave some more scenarios for existing couples (emt!abby, collegebff!ellie or others) and i’ll answer them ! (also not proofread well like usual lmao)

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

jealous!ellie & jealous!reader are SO different, but i feel like the outcome would be so…YUM.

feel like you’d be more reserved about being jealous.

like lately, it seems like things between you and ellie seem like they can’t get any better.

the two of you spend so much time together, whether it’s having picnics in the park with some pastries you make, testing out recipes after close at your cafe or having sleepovers at one or the other’s apartment.

ellie’s lowkey obsessed with you and at times it makes you blush because after the initial stages of feeling your relationship out, you find that ellie’s extremely vocal and outright with her affection for you.

and for the longest time, you don’t question it. don’t really say much because ellie’s particularly good at reassuring you even if you don’t ask.

it’s why you think you’re overreacting when you decide to surprise her and bring her lunch on a random afternoon in the middle of the week.

the top half of her coveralls hangs around her hips, dirtied white tank exposing tanned, inked flesh and lean muscle when you enter the lobby.

she’s leaning against one of the tool carts with her arms crossed over her chest, gaze unwavering.

when you trace her eyeline, you realize there’s another girl nearby bent under the hood of a shiny red car.

she says something imperceptible and suddenly ellie’s throwing her head back with a laugh, sound muffled by the sliding plexiglass.

“hey, receptionist is on break, can i help you with something?” a mechanic is poking his head into the lobby from an adjoining office.

“uh, i’m here for ellie?” the mechanic’s glancing through the glass into the main garage before standing from his rolling chair to dust his hands on his coveralls.

“yeah, she’s supposed to be watching the front,” he laughs. “too busy flirting with her lil girlfriend to pay attention.”

he doesn’t notice the way your face falls or how you almost drop the little canvas bag altogether.

you chance another glance at the two, find that the girl has emerged from under the hood and you swallow hard because god, she’s so fucking pretty.

doesn’t help that seeing her and ellie side-by-side makes you wonder if the two of you look that good together.

they look like they were made for each other and they even share similar interests! you don’t know a damned thing about cars and ellie’s gaze nearly glazes over every time you’re talking about your recipes and coffee pairings.

“uh, actually,” you stop him. “i don’t think she was expecting me, so i’ll just drop this off.”

he pauses.

“you sure? i can get her real quick, she’s not busy.”

ellie still hasn’t clocked you, so you shake your head.

“it’s fine,” you assure him. “i’ll talk to her later.”

he merely shrugs, meets you halfway for the canvas bag, and you’re quickly ducking out of the garage.

“babe?”

ellie’s right on the dot, you realize, when you hear her through the cracked sliding door to the balcony.

you’ve just finished watering your plants and now you’re jotting down a quick brainstorm for the upcoming spring launch.

through the window, you see ellie kicking her shoes off at the entrance before assessing her surroundings and poking her head into your bedroom for good measure.

“babe?” she calls out.

you stand, tucking the little notebook under your arm before sliding back inside.

she seems to light up when she sees you, crossing the living room to meet you halfway.

“hey, els.”

you’re letting her engulf you in a hug, arms wrapping around your waist as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“missed you today,” she hums, rocking your weight from side to side.

“missed you too,” you say gently.

ellie’s pulling away a short distance, finger bumping under your chin so you’ll look up at her.

“why didn’t you say hi when you stopped in today?” she nearly pouts. “zack came in when we were slow and said that someone dropped something off for me.”

you shrug, unable to tell her that insecurity was rearing its ugly head and you didn’t know how to deal with it in that moment.

“my girl didn’t wanna eat with me?”

“sorry,” you mumble, burning up under the heat of her gaze. “i couldn’t stay long.”

her brows are furrowing, hands coming up to smooth your hair from your face and brush over your shoulders.

“everything okay, babe?”

you nod once, then twice.

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

ellie’s watching you closely, fingers cupping your neck.

“talk to me,” she encourages softly. “did something happen?”

you swallow, shake your head, and put on your most convincing smile before leaning up to give her a peck on the lips.

“m’okay,” you tell her.

she doesn’t look convinced, but she also doesn’t wanna pry.

changes the subject instead.

“so does this mean, you’ll swing by and actually hang out with me soon?” she asks, body relaxing when you start smoothing over the wrinkles in her coveralls as a distraction.

you nod, smile widening when she starts peppering kisses all over your face.

for a little bit, you forget about ellie’s coworker and you forget about the comment that zack made, but then you’re popping in again almost two weeks later.

they’re shoulder to shoulder in the body shop, looking at something under the hood of a silver pick up truck. ellie’s engrossed, but the girl’s fullblown staring, paying no mind to whatever ellie’s explaining in the engine bed.

makes you sick to your stomach thinking that if ellie so much as chances a glance, their noses could brush.

“hey receptionist is— oh.”

it’s zack, the same mechanic from last time.

he’s wiping his hands on an old towel as he emerges from one of the bays.

“ellie!” he shouts past the propped open door.

she nearly jumps out of her skin, parting from her coworker as she throws a cross look over her shoulder.

“your girl’s here,” he announces.

ellie’s straightening up, craning her neck even more before her face splits into a bright smile.

she’s abandoning the girl by the truck, jogging across the body shop to duck into the lobby.

“hi, angel.”

your cheeks warm when she slides her arm around your waist to pull you into her.

“gonna go on lunch break, don’t wait up,” she calls & you’re sparing the girl near the truck a glance.

her name’s emma if the stitching on the right breast of her coveralls is anything to go by.

she makes a show of taking you in from head to toe before her gaze cuts to zack and they seemingly share a wordless exchange.

oh.

you have no clue what to make of that, but ellie’s steering you from the lobby and out into the crisp air.

it’s still a little chilly outside, but you’re wearing one of ellie’s favorite sweatshirts and she’s shrugging on a hoodie hanging from a coatrack by the door.

“my truck?” she offers when a chill rips down your spine.

you only hum.

when the two of you are settled, her in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s, she’s taking the little bag with lunch containers and setting it on her dash before pulling you towards her to eliminate every inch of space between the two of you.

“whaddya doing?” you sigh out a laugh.

“i missed you,” ellie says simply.

“ellie, you slept over last night,” you squeak out a breathy laugh when her ice cold hands slide under the warmth of the red fleece. “we saw each other this morning.”

“so?” she replies petulantly. “wanna be with you all the time.”

you’re wearing a turtleneck underneath the sweatshirt so she’s nosing along your jaw before pressing a few soft kisses there.

“you’re so clingy recently, els,” you giggle, arms winding around her neck.

“duh.” and your belly flips when she doesn’t even deny it. “you’re so fucking cute and i just wanna keep you in my pocket all the time.”

that earns her a full-hearted laugh and you really begin to wonder why you let that girl with her stupidly perfect blown out hair and stupidly rounded ass and the most stupidly pretty face ever make you question your ellie.

you live in bliss for the duration of her forty-five minute break where she does a whole lot of eating, but not necessarily the food you made for her.

the windows are equal parts fogged and frosted by the time she’s done with you and you’re shimmying your jeans back up in the back seat of her truck as she shrugging the top half of her discard coveralls and her hoodie back on again.

“you didn’t even touch to food i made you,” you whine.

“i’ll eat it on my ten,” she assures you, and your toes curl when she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

“liked what i had for lunch better,” she says so casually, your cheeks are on fire.

“ellie!”

“definitely need dessert when i get home,” she insinuates, leaning her weight over your blissed out body.

she plants a kiss on your mouth before climbing back into the front seat.

but, in the lobby, when she’s bidding you a farewell with another peck on the lips, promising she’ll try to come home early, you notice emma’s eyes again. they’re searing, laced with obvious annoyance.

ellie’s returning to her duties and you’re ducking into their restroom for a moment to splash your face with cool water.

ellie’s never given you a reason to doubt her, has been a perfect girlfriend since the beginning, but you can’t help yourself.

especially not when you’re ducking out and you hear it.

“so i’m not the only one surprised that her girl looks like that?” you think it’s zack, but you can’t be so sure.

“i dunno, she’s hot, but they don’t really match,” another voice sounds. “especially since her last…thing was with emma.”

and, wow, fuck, you hadn’t been expecting that.

“damn, i forgot about that,” maybe zack says. “it was at the party mel and them threw, right? when they fucked?”

you’d wanted to give the benefit of the doubt. maybe they’d been a thing once upon a time, kissed on occasion, but hearing it put so crassly makes you feel like you’re gonna throw up.

the bell’s tinkling hard against the glass when you throw the door open.

and perhaps the situation with finding out about ellie and emma goes hand-in-hand with the way ellie experiences her jealousy.

maybe the fact that ellie still works closely with a previous situationship and is obviously on friendly terms with makes you withdraw a little.

you’re spending a lot more time at your cafe, readying for spring launch and brainstorming new recipes.

you don’t want to bore ellie, especially when you’ve been so in your head about everything lately, so you’re putting in more hours, coming home late at night.

truthfully, ellie’s devastated because she misses her girl :/ why are you always so busy suddenly?

so when a familiar face comes poking into the cafe a few weeks down the line, your eyes are as wide as saucers.

“wow, alex, is that you?”

she’s an ex who’d moved abroad for work a few years back. and the break up had been amicable enough, but she’d moved on and so had you.

the only contact the two of you keep is the occasional comment on social media and a text or two during the holidays.

she’s grinning ear-to-ear.

“what are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, setting the rag down on the bartop to round the counter.

you’d been in the middle of prepping to close up shop when the bells chimed against the glass.

“visiting my parents for a few weeks,” she answers. “thought i’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

“great, i’m doing great,” you assure her with a warm smile. “what about you? how’s germany?”

“definitely miss the food here sometimes, but you know,” she shrugs and you’re letting out a laugh. “and...julia’s pregnant.”

and your brows are shooting up, arms wrapping around her middle.

“alex, that’s so exciting!” you cheer. “congratulations.”

her cheeks are red when you pull away.

“yeah,” she says softly, eyes gentle. “i’m so excited.”

and you’re glad to hear that things are working out for her, that she’s established herself well and she’s building the family she’s always dreamed of.

“and you?” she asks.

“what about me?”

“are you seeing anyone?”

it’s your turn to warm, fidgeting under her expectant gaze.

“i am,” you confirm.

her smile widens

“that’s great,” she says genuinely. “i’m glad. i hope they make you happy.”

and it really makes you draw into yourself for a moment because ellie does. she makes you so fucking happy, you don’t know what to do with yourself sometimes.

“yeah,” you hum. “she’s great.”

the two of you end up catching up a little as you close, and she even takes you up on your offer of visiting again for a tasting before she leaves!

and this is most likely what sends ellie over the edge.

at first she didn’t know why you were suddenly so distant, knew you were dedicated, but didn’t know why you were so invested as of late.

recently, it’s been her popping into your apartment, but being disappointed to find that you’re not even home.

and the days that she does catch you, you’re pecking her on the lips and rushing out the door.

makes ellie question if there’s something she should be paying closer attention to.

honestly, she’s just really worried that she did something wrong, so as she’s trekking up the sidewalk to approach your little cafe with a bundle of cute flowers around 10 in the evening, she’s feeling a weird sense of deja vu.

finds that the open sign has been flipped and that the lights are dim, but nearly trips over her steps when she peers inside and sees you behind the counter.

you’re not alone, a tall figure leaned up against the bartop, obviously deeply interested in whatever you’re animatedly talking about.

you’re still wearing your apron, hair falling from its hold and a lump is lodging its way into ellie’s throat.

tugs gently on the handle to see that it’s locked and the motion catches both you and your company’s attention.

god, whoever you’re with is an absolute stunner and ellie’s swallowing hard as you round the counter and flit through the tables to come let her in.

“els, what are you doing here?” you ask, smiling softly.

barely registers what you’re saying because the girl you’re with has straightened and there’s something so put together and elegant about the brunette that makes a pang of insecurity begin to coil in ellie’s stomach.

“wanted to see you,” she says simply.

“oh,” you reply. “we were just finishing up here, i would’ve been home in like an hour.”

and that leaves such a sour taste in her mouth because a lot can happen in an hour, in forty-five minutes even.

“great, i’ll walk you home,” ellie says, tone pinched.

your brows furrow and you’re opening your mouth to ask ellie if everything’s fine, but alex is placing a casual hand on your shoulder to remind you she’s there and ellie can’t help but zero in on the way her slender fingers curl.

“alex,” she introduces, offering her other hand.

“ellie,” your girlfriend bites back, glancing at alex’s outstretched palm before glancing back up at her.

there’s a twinkle of knowing in alex’s eye as she nods thoughtfully.

“heard a lot about you,” she says simply.

ellie merely hums.

and god, you’re mortified because you’d spent the entire night raving about ellie even though alex was supposed to be giving you feedback on launch ideas.

you’d told her how kind and great ellie was. instead, here she is, ice cold and glaring.

“well...” alex turns her attention to you. “i really appreciate tonight, everything was phenomenal.”

you preen under the praise and ellie’s rolling her eyes, fist tightening around the stems of the flowers.

“of course, anytime,” you assure her. “thank you for visiting me again.”

and seeing the two of you side-by-side, ellie feels so small. because you’ve always been so pretty, so out of her league and the two of you look like a match made in heaven.

“always,” alex replies, and ever the instigator, she adds, “text me when you get home?”

“i will,” you tell her, brushing past ellie to lock her out. “goodnight, alex, be safe!”

she says something in return that evades ellie’s hearing, but she’s far too livid to even tune in.

you’ve barely locked the door behind her when ellie’s voice cuts through the tense air.

“who the fuck was that?” she asks sharply.

you turn on your heel, brows dipping because ellie’s rarely let her anger get the best of her.

“ellie, what are—”

“i asked you a question,” she says firmly.

you roll your lips, gaze downcast because such a good moment has been obliterated by ellie’s fiery temper.

“we dated a few years ago,” you answer honestly. “she was back in town for the next few weeks and i wanted to do something nice.”

ellie lets out a humorless laugh.

“so i’ve been worried sick for weeks because you wanna ghost me when you’ve really been parading around with your ex?” ellie huffs.

and okay, wow, you hadn’t really expected that from her because your ellie is usually relatively level-headed.

“this is only the second time i’ve seen her, ellie,” you argue. “we were friends way before we even dated and it was a clean break up. we were just catching up.”

ellie’s tossing the bouquet of flowers, now crushed by her unrelenting fist, onto the nearest table top.

“just catching up, huh?” she mocks. “so a romantic set up, just the two of you, is just catching up? you said not to wait up for you because you’d be caught up with work. good to know that screwing your ex is—”

“this is work,” you bite back. “i’ve been trying to get my bearings for this upcoming launch and she was kind enough to put up with all my crazy ideas and all my rambling,” then quietly, “given ninety percent of it was about you.”

“what, you couldn’t ask me?” ellie huffs. “you know i’d help you if you wanted me to!”

“i didn’t ask because i know all this shit bores you,” you say weakly. “alex was just being nice.”

that shuts ellie up, douses her anger like a bucket of ice cold water on a fire. and now she feels like a piece of shit because she hadn’t known that you felt that way.

“and she’s engaged,” you add, pulling away from her when she takes a step towards you. instead you busy yourself with gathering your spread and all the silverware. “they’re expecting a child.”

and fuck, ellie wishes she’d slowed down. wishes that she hadn’t talked out of her ass.

“i didn't—”

“you’re one to talk, ellie,” you add coldly. “you work in close proximity with a girl you used to fuck regularly. you’re still friends with her, and it’s obvious to every single soul imaginable that i’m just an obstacle to her and that she’s still interested. but i didn’t say anything even if it fucking ate away at me because i know you. you’ve never given me a reason to doubt us.”

that knocks that wind from ellie’s lungs because she hadn’t realized that you knew. just wanted to sweep it under the rug because her and emma were never serious and she didn’t want you worrying.

“wait, angel, i’m sorry,” ellie says. “i—”

you shake your head.

“whatever, ellie,” you whisper. “i have to close up.”

“c’mon, babe, don’t—”

“i don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” you cut her off. “i’ll be home soon, but i wanna be alone right now.”

when you get home and see ellie’s sneakers by the door, you take in a deep breath and try to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable conversation, but instead, you’re met with the smell of your favorite take out and a soft murmur from your vinyl player in the living room.

when you make it to the end of the corridor to peer into the kitchen, you see ellie taking down a few plates.

she’s glancing over her shoulder, body seemingly relaxing when she finds you standing in the archway of the kitchen.

“hey,” she greets softly, and you belatedly realize that her voice is hoarse.

“hi,” you reply.

“wanna eat first?” she asks you, but you don’t answer, too busy analyzing her.

you put two and two together; figure that she’s been crying if the red bags under her eyes and the dying flush on her cheeks is anything to go by.

she takes a step towards you and you seem to snap out of it.

“wanna shower first,” you tell her.

you hear her gulp.

“okay,” she says.

and you hate this. you hate being upset and you hate that she’s upset and knowing that ellie cried makes you wanna cry, so you’re taking a step towards her.

she’s glancing at you.

“shower with me?” you offer timidly.

ellie’s pushing off the counter, nodding eagerly.

and truthfully, ellie had every intention of keeping her hands to herself, but then you were asking her to help work the soap down your back.

then you were turning to face her to rinse under the stream of the showerhead. the sudsy water’s making its way down the column of your throat and the curves of your body and ellie’s tongue is so dry, she feels like it could crack in her mouth.

her hands settle on the narrow of your waist, right over the swell of your hips as she presses open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder.

“i’m so sorry, angel,” she whispers, hands sliding to rest against the small of your back.

you give in even though you’re still in your head, arms looping around her neck as she brushes your hair to one side and starts paying a lot more attention to the spot right behind your ear.

“s’okay, els,” you assure her softly. “i’m sorry, too. i was being a brat.”

your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, breath hitching when she grabs a palmful of your ass and breaks away from your neck to catch your lips between her own.

“you don’t know how much i love you,” she murmurs between kisses, sighing brokenly when the plush of your tits presses against her sensitive nipples.

you moan when one of her hands slides down your front and gently brushes over your clit.

“ellie,” you whimper.

“let me show you?”

your head is lolling back when the pads of her calloused fingers circle your entrance to gather the slick that’s accumulating there.

you nod.

“yeah, yeah, ellie, please,” you choke.

she’s reaching behind you to turn the shower off, ducking outside of the tiled space to grab your towel.

and she’s slow, meticulous as she dries you off, mouth watering when the cool air of the bathroom makes gooseflesh ripple over your smooth skin.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” ellie whispers, standing behind you in the mirror. “so fucking perfect and all mine.”

your eyelids are drooping shut as she discards the towel, hands wandering as her teeth sink into your neck.

“oh, fuuu—”

ellie’s jostling you back into your bedroom. when she’s about to push you back against the mattress, you’re spinning so that she’s falling against the unmade duvet, taking you with her.

and ellie’s gaze is glazing over when you spread her legs to reveal a pussy slick with need and a clit so swollen, it makes you salivate.

“what are you doing?” she whispers, fingertips denting the fat of your thighs.

“wanna ride you, els,” you whimper, climbing to straddle her heat. “wanna take care of you.”

one of her legs stretches to settle over your shoulder and you’re kissing her calf as your clits bump.

“fuck,” ellie chokes when you start rolling your hips. “fuck, wait, angel, just—”

the slip is delicious, obscene sound of your combined arousal echoing through the room to mingle with ellie’s throaty moans.

ellie’s used to watching you ride her strap, used to fucking you and giving you everything because it’s one of the things that makes her the happiest, but, fuck, she could get used to this.

“you gonna cream all over my pussy, ellie?” you whine, pace relentless as you ride her.

she lets out a breathy laugh.

“you feel how wet i am?” ellie gasps, thumb coming to nestle between your heat. the friction feels so fucking good against your clit, has you throwing your head back as you fuck her. “god, you’re fucking delusional if you think i’m not a hundred and ten percent obsessed with you.”

“oh fuck, ellie, your pussy feels s’good,” you whine, eyes watering when her other hand settles on your hip to guide you.

“does it, angel?” she moans breathily. “only you can get me like this.”

“you’re so wet, els,” you marvel. “your cunt’s so soft and so...so—”

“it’s all yours,” she whispers shakily, hips jerking because she’s close. “all yours, angel.”

and she’s crying out when you slip off of her, hands grabbing for you desperately.

she’s throwing her head back against your pillows when your lips latch onto her clit.

“oh, shit,” she moans. “wait, wait.”

but you don’t wait, in fact, your ministrations quicken, tongue lapping at the slick that gushes from ellie’s cunt.

“fuck, angel, i’m gonna—”

the broken moan that leaves ellie’s lithe body has you clenching your thighs. and you think she’s gonna cum, but her palm is firm against your forehead to push you away gently.

her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head when a string of spit webs from your chin to her clit.

“m’not cumming before you do,” she swallows. “this was supposed to be about you.”

“it is,” you assure her. “all i care about right now is making you cum.”

“jesus, you’re actually something else,” ellie sighs shakily, combing a tattooed hand through her damp locks.

you’re making a move to close in on her pussy again, but she’s pushing you onto your back, settling her achey cunt over your thigh as she circles both of your wrists in one hand.

“let me take care of you and you can do whatever you want with me for the rest of the night,” ellie promises, sloppy kiss turning into her licking into your mouth.

her fingers waste no time finding your folds, pads eager against your bud before dipping lower to tease at your entrance.

“how could you think i’d want any other pussy other than yours, angel?” she whispers against your mouth as she stuffs you knuckles deep. “this is all mine, you hear me? all fuckin’ mine.”

you nod, squirming against where she’s still got you confined with a bruising grip around your wrists.

“s’all yours, els,” you whimper.

“just like this pussy’s all yours,” she husks, hips rolling over the swell of your thigh. “would never fucking dream of giving myself to anyone but you.”

and god, ellie knows all the right things to say to have you winding tight.

you’re arching into her, jaw slack and eyes crossing as she hits that spot inside you that has you feeling fucking boneless.

“c’mon, angel,” she encourages you. “just once all over my fingers, then you can do whatever you want to me.”

the squelch has ellie’s thighs shaking as she rolls her hips, knuckles curling hard inside the warm heat of your needy pussy.

“don’t stop, els,” you beg her. “i’m gonna—”

she’s freeing your wrists, climbing from your thigh to settle on her knees at the end of the bed.

“wait, els, i’m gonna—”

and the moan that leaves you can be heard by the entire apartment block, no doubt, because ellie’s sucking your clit past her lips and eating you out like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do.

the shit she’s murmuring against your folds is filthy, has you trying to squeeze your knees together because ellie’s that good.

“ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” you cry out when she adds a third finger.

it’s all it takes because a few moments later, your back’s arching all the way off the bed, thighs vibrating as she continues to toy with you through your orgasm.

“that’s it, angel,” ellie whispers. “ride it out.”

your chest heaves through the final waves, a sheen of sweat making your dewy skin look like it’s glistening under the lowlight of your bedside lamp.

“you did so fuckin’ good for me,” ellie says gently, standing naked between your parted legs as your arm drapes over your eyes in embarrassment.

“stop hiding,” she scolds, climbing to straddle you.

her hands are wandering, smoothing over every available expanse of skin as you cover your face and shy away from her.

she’s shocked when she pries your arm away and finds tears welling in your eyes.

“babe,” she calls incredulously. “why are you—”

“we wouldn’t have been in this situation if i wasn’t so immature and just talked to you about it,” you hiccup.

ellie’s face is falling, pulling you up to wrap you in her arms.

“babe, stop,” she whines softly, rocking you as a shudder rips down your spine. “i should’ve said something and i definitely shouldn’t have acted the way i did earlier. if anything i was immature.”

“you’re such a good girlfriend, ellie,” you whimper. “and i’m...i’m sorry, i—”

“hey, hey,” she stops you firmly, peeling away from you to thumb at your chin. “don’t do that.”

and you feel like such a big fucking baby as ellie repositions the two of you so that she’s leaning against your headboard and she’s pulling you against her sweaty chest.

“i’m sorry, ellie,” you choke again.

“stop apologizing,” ellie croaks, and you realize that the emotions are welling inside of her as well. “none of this was your fault, angel. i should’ve been honest and just told you, but i was scared.”

you’re still hiccuping, ear pressed over her heart.

“you’re my first real girlfriend in a really long time, and it doesn’t help that you’re so grossly out of my league, and—”

“ellie,” you chide.

“i don’t wanna mess things up with you,” she admits softly. “especially after the way we started.”

“i’d never hold that against you,” you swallow.

“and that’s what makes it worse. i know you wouldn’t even if you should,” ellie whispers. “and then today, i saw you with someone else and it made me so fucking mad because the two of you look so good together. it made me feel like i don’t deserve you.”

“els.” and you’re crying harder now, arms winding so tight around her waist, she feels like she’ll burst.

“i’m sorry,” ellie says gently. “you’ve always been so fucking good to me and—”

you’re leaning up, kissing her to shut her up before she starts crying and she’s cradling your face like you’re the most fragile thing.

“i love you so fucking much, ellie,” you tell her between kisses. “let’s just...let’s just put this behind us, okay?”

she nods, pulls from your lips to nestle her face in your neck.

“i love you more, angel,” she murmurs against your skin. “you don’t even know.”

neng © 2023

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

omg this just popped into my head and i desperately need it like i literally will not be able to stop thinking about it about it till it is written but, ethan landry x reader fic based on gods and monsters by lana del rey oml like it would be phenomenal… i don’t want it to incorporate the lyrics i just want it based on the idea of the song? but not about them being actual gods and monsters like to her ethan is a god. especially the lyrics “this is heaven, what i truly want. it’s innocence lost.”. basically reader is super innocent and ethan sees her as an angel and feels the need to ruin her and she sees him as a god and is obsessed with him. super smutty and him praising her and talking her through it. i know this was a lot but i am obsessed with your writing and i think if you wrote this it would be amazing, but only if you’re comfortable 🫶☺️

HI! I hope this was what you wanted. 💕

Gods & Monsters - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You're obsessed with Ethan and he's obsessed with you, but he'd dying to destroy your innocence.

Contains: Fluff-ish moments, Smut - Oral(m and f receiving), fingering, p in v, riding, rough-ish sex. Reader isn't a virgin but doesn't have a lot of experience.

A/N: This was one of the fics I lost the other day, and I'm so sad because I liked what I'd already written before. BUT I was determined to get this done lmao

You didn’t expect to fall so hard for Ethan Landry. What started as a small crush on one of your friends led to full-blown infatuation. Once you found yourself hanging off every word that slipped past his perfect lips, always making sure you were beside him whenever you’d go out with your friends, and even letting your grades slip a little just so you’d have the excuse to be alone with him to study, you realized how fucked you were. You didn’t care, though, because he’s everything you wanted.

He was tall, and very attractive. But what really sucked you in was the way he lit up whenever he talked to you about the things he was passionate about. The way his voice sounded first thing in the morning when you’d all spent the night at Tara’s. The way he ignored any other girls that looked in his direction, at least when he was with you.

Ethan was just as caught up in you as you were with him. The first night you walked into Tara’s, he could’ve sworn you were literally glowing. He thought you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen, and once he talked to you and realized how sweet you were, he knew he had to make you his. He found himself daydreaming about taking you on dates, holding your hand, kissing you. But sometimes, his thoughts weren’t so innocent.

He knew you weren’t a virgin, but after a drunken game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ turned sexual, he learned that there were a lot of things you hadn’t done. He wanted to be the first, and hopefully only person you’d do those things with. He even went as far as wondering how you’d sound, the faces you’d make, how much of him you could take in your mouth before it was too much. He felt a little guilty from time to time for thinking about you in that way, because you were just so sweet. But the desire to destroy your innocence just kept getting stronger, no matter how hard he’d try to push those thoughts about you to the side.

The two of you shamelessly flirted with each other, so much that the rest of your friends thought there was something more going on than there was. It wasn’t uncommon for Ethan to pull you into his lap whenever there wasn’t an empty seat available beside him, or for the two of you to be so caught up in your own conversations that you’d forget your friends were even there. He wanted to take things to the next level, but he’d always get nervous and shut down whenever he got close to kissing you.

You lived down the hall from Tara, which made it so convenient for you and Ethan’s study sessions. Whenever you had plans with your friends, Ethan would come to your apartment to study with you before. With exams coming up, Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about how he needed to get over his nerves and finally make a move. He knew he’d still get to see you, but he wouldn’t have the excuse to spend alone time with you.

As Ethan sat on your bed, his fingers moving against his keyboard, you started to get bored. He kept peaking over his laptop screen to see you stretched out on your stomach at the foot of your bed, scrolling through your phone.

“That’s not homework,” he said, playfully scolding you as you sat up to look at him.

“If I have to keep looking at anything school related, I’m going to go crazy.”

“We still have over an hour before we have to go to Tara’s. What would you like to do?” He asked, closing his computer to give you his attention.

“We could watch a funny movie. I need to laugh,” you suggested, as he shook his head.

“We don’t have enough time for that…but,” he said, sitting his laptop on the bed beside him. “I know how to make you laugh.”

He smirked as he crawled closer to you. You knew what was coming, the slight look of panic in your eyes making him chuckle before his fingers dug into your sides.

“Ethan,” you whined, trying to grab at his hands to pull them off you. You were starting to tear up from laughing, and your breathing was getting heavier. “Stop it! You’re going to make me fall off the bed!”

“I’d never let that happen,” he said, his fingers not letting up.

“Seriously, Ethan!” You were starting to wheeze from laughing so hard, so he finally pulled his hands away. You placed one of your hands on your chest as you tried to take deep breaths, as Ethan settled back into the spot he was in before on your bed. “That was so mean.”

“I think it’s funny that you’ve never tried to get me back,” he said, a smug look on his face. “Is it because I’m stronger than you?”

“Knowing you, you’d have me pinned to the bed so I wouldn’t be able to move while you tickled me.”

Ethan got a little caught up in the idea of that. He wanted to have you pinned to the bed, but not to tickle you. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you were moving closer to him, the only thing bringing him back into the moment was when your fingertips started to move against his sides.

“Hey!” he said through his laughter as he grabbed at your hands. You weren’t going to give up easily, so you moved to straddle him, pulling your hands away every time he reached for them. “Please, you gotta stop!”

“No,” you said, your hands moving further up his ribs, making him laugh even harder. He knew it wasn’t meant to be sexual, but the way your ass was rubbing against him as you moved was making him hard.

“Stop!” he yelled, finally grabbing your hands. Your face dropped as you looked at him, and he immediately felt guilty for yelling at you like that. “I’m sorry…you’re just,” he said, letting out a gasp once you started to move off him, your eyes going wide once you felt how hard he was underneath you. “That. You’re making me hard.”

“Oh,” you softly said, staring at the bulge in his jeans. “Is it a bad thing that I did?”

“No…I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he sighed, before he sat up. “Does it make you uncomfortable that you do that to me?”

He watched your cheeks turn pink at his question. This wasn’t how he planned on making his move, but the door was wide open for him to have the conversation.

“No,” you said, “have I made you hard before?”

“I get hard just thinking about you,” he confessed, the sexual tension in the room getting stronger as each second passed.

You were starting to get nervous as you sat there. You didn’t have the most experience in the world, your previous sexual encounters with your ex mainly consisted of you just laying there and waiting until he was done, so you didn’t know how to give a blow job. But you wanted to learn. You wanted Ethan to teach you.

“Can I…suck it?” you asked, his eyes growing wide. “Sorry, stupid question.”

“No, it’s not stupid…do you want me to tell you how to do it?” he asked, as you smiled and nodded. “Okay, uh, I’ll just get these off.”

He slid off the side of your bed and unbuttoned his jeans before shimmying them down his legs. You gawked as you saw the tent in his boxers, wondering if you were in over your head for even thinking you could do this.

“I hate to ask this…” no he didn’t. “But would you want to get on the floor? It’d be easier for you.” You nodded as you slid off the side of the bed and stood in front of him. “Wait,” he said, once you started to drop to your knees. You stood back up to face him, as he leaned in to kiss you. You needily kissed him back, your hands on his cheeks as he started to rub your hips. Once you pulled back, he smiled at you. “You don’t feel like you have to do this, right?”

“No, I want to do this,” you said, looking at him as you sank onto the floor.

“Fuck…eye contact like that is good,” he said, running his fingers through your hair. “I guess I’ll just slide these down.”

His fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers as he slid them down his thighs, his cock springing free right in front of your face. He let out a sweet laugh once he noticed how wide your eyes got.

“Do I just put it in my mouth?” you asked, as he groaned at how innocent you were.

“Let’s start with just touching it,” he suggested, as you nodded and reached your hand up. “Wrap your hand around it…just like that, baby,” he said, taking a deep breath as he tried to contain himself. “Now move your hand back and forth, but not too fast.”

You did as he said, your eyes glancing between his and his cock. You weren’t sure if you were good at what you were doing, but he was breathing heavier the longer you did it.

“Do you want to try to put it in your mouth?” he asked, as you nodded and leaned forward. “How about you just do what you think is right and I’ll tell you if it’s bad or good?”

“Okay,” you shyly said, hoping that you would get it right.

Ethan’s biggest fantasy was coming to fruition. His head was spinning as you took the head of his cock in your mouth, your hand still stroking him. Even though you weren’t a virgin, he still felt like he was devirginizing you, at least in this way.

“That’s perfect,” he said, his eyes looking into yours as you sucked on his sensitive tip. “Try to take a little more.”

You did as he said, easing a little more of him into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair, his grip loose. The last thing he wanted was to push you too far and make you want to stop when you’d just started. He was about to ask you for more, when you boldly took as much of him as you could in your mouth, to the point that you were gagging around him. You quickly pulled your head back, refusing to make eye contact like you’d just done something wrong.

“Hey,” Ethan said, his hand that was in your hair moved to your chin. He tilted your head so you’d look at him, your eyes already watery from the gagging. “If you want to keep going, there’s a little tip that helps with that.”

He showed you the thumb trick, and talked to you about bobbing your head too, along with moving your hand. Once you felt like you had a better understanding of what you needed to do, you leaned forward, taking just as much of him in your mouth as you did before.

You were still gagging a little, but not as bad as you did the first time. Your mouth kept getting more and more wet, the feeling making Ethan groan. His hand snaked back in your hair as he fought the urge to thrust in your mouth.

“You’re doing such a good job,” he praised, “Twist your hand a little…oh fuck.”

You were catching on quickly, and Ethan was so proud of you. Your eyes stayed on his, even when tears started to slip past your lower lash line. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I try something?” he asked, his eyes pleading with yours. You hummed around him to let him know he could, because the last thing you wanted to do was pull him out of your mouth.

He started to thrust past your lips as you gagged around him, your free hand gripping your thumb as hard as you could. Big, fat teardrops were flowing down your cheeks, but you were loving it. His eyes were fluttering as his jaw dropped open, but he still stayed focused on you, not wanting any of this to be too much.

“I’m gonna cum,” he said, his voice a little raspy from his panting. “Can I cum in your mouth?”

You hummed around him again to respond, the vibrations around his cock sending him over the edge as his hand tensed up in your hair, tugging on it harder than he wanted to. You just kept moaning around him, so turned on as his salty cum coated your tastebuds. He gave a few more weak thrusts as his hand in your hair relaxed before he slowly slid out of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching down to take your hand. He helped you to your feet before wiping the tears off your cheeks.

“Yeah, I liked that,” you said, your voice raw from all the gagging. “Can we do it again?”

“We can do anything you want to,” he said, placing his hands on your hips to hold you close. “But right now, can I eat you out?”

“Oh, Um,” you mumbled, your cheeks getting rosy at the idea. “You want to do that?”

“I’m not your ex,” he said, smirking at you. “I bet he never made you cum.”

“He didn’t,” you sighed, as Ethan backed you towards the bed.

“I will,” he said, as he started to lift your shirt.

Ethan got you out of your jeans and shirt, leaving you in just your bra and panties. He hovered over you, his mouth moving against your neck as his hand roamed your body. You were squirming as you tried to patient, but it was getting harder for you, especially when his hand reached in between your thighs and rubbed you over your panties.

“So wet,” he mumbled against your neck, his breath giving you goosebumps. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

He pulled his hand away as he sat up, grabbing your hands for you to sit up, too. His hands reached around you to unhook your bra, his mouth not leaving your neck as he slid the straps down your arms and threw it to the other side of the room.

“We have to go to Tara’s soon,” you reminded him, as he pulled away and started to laugh.

“We’re probably going to be late.”

He leaned down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You started to whimper as he sucked, pulling off it with a soft pop before he moved to the other side.

Once his lips trailed further down your body, you were trying so hard to be in the moment, but your mind started to wander. You practically worshiped the ground Ethan walked on, and all he wanted in that moment was you, but you still didn’t know if this was going to anything more than a friends with benefits situation, or if he wanted to be with you like you wanted to be with him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, pulling you from your thoughts as he started to kiss your inner thighs.

“Mmm, it’s nothing,” you moaned once he started to suck your flesh into his mouth.

He pulled away to look at you, “No, tell me.”

You sighed in frustration, both from him stopping and you really didn’t want to pour your heart out to him in that moment. But he just kept staring at you, waiting for you to say something.

“I’ve…fuck,” you sighed, taking a deep breath. “I want this…but I need to know how you feel about me.”

He smiled at you as your blush spread across your cheeks. “You haven’t realized that I’m in love with you yet?”

“In love with me?” you asked, as he slid your panties down your legs.

“Mhm, I’m fucking obsessed with you,” he said, before he buried his head between your thighs.

“Shit,” you gasped, as his tongue licked fat stripes from your entrance to your clit.

He started to focus on your clit, giving all the attention to your needy bundle of nerves. You looked down to see that he was watching you, taking in all the little faces you were making. He was alternating between swirling and lightly sucking, the stimulation making your entire body feel hot.

He slid one of his fingers inside of you, your legs feeling shaky as he moved it against the spot inside of you that you weren’t even sure existed. He watched you start to fall apart over just one finger, and once he added another one, you were a whimpering mess. He licked your clit a few more times before he pulled away to talk to you, his fingers still moving.

“You never told me how you feel about me,” he said, curving his fingers to apply more pressure.   

“Unfff, fuck,” you whined, your hands tightly gripping the comforter underneath you.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll stop,” he playfully said, smirking as his fingers brought you closer to the edge.

Your brain was turning to mush, but you pulled yourself together for a second, not wanting him to stop. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He leaned back down to your clit, sucking on it a little harder than he had before. Your whines got louder as the euphoric feeling washed over you, his free hand holding down your bucking hips. It felt so good that your eyes started to water, your entire body tingling as he worked you through it.

Just as you came down from your high, you heard a knock coming from your front door. You were too fucked out from Ethan’s fingers to even care, as he started to laugh.

“I bet that’s Tara,” he said, as he laid down beside you. “We’re late.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, lazily sliding your naked body off the side of your bed, landing on your feet.

You grabbed your robe and put it on, your legs still wobbly as you made your way to the front door. You looked out the peephole to see Tara and Mindy.

“Hey,” Tara said once you opened the door, her smile dropping once she noticed you weren’t dressed. “Are you still coming over?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon,” you said, noticing both of them staring at something. “What?”

“Is Ethan here?” Mindy asked, a smirk playing on her lips as she realized what was going on.

“Yeah, we’ll both be over in a few,” you said, still not understanding what they were looking at.

“Okay…you might want to cover that up before you come over,” Mindy said, gesturing to your neck as Tara started to giggle.

You bit your bottom lip as the embarrassment hit, realizing that Ethan sucking on your neck earlier must’ve left a hickey.

“No, you know what? You guys finish whatever ‘studying’ you’re doing, then come over. We’re sorry for interrupting,” Tara said, fighting off her laughter as she and Mindy walked down the hall to her apartment.

You sighed as you closed the door, knowing that you and Ethan were definitely going to be grilled once you did go to Tara’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me you put this on my neck?” you said, glancing at it in the mirror after you walked back in your room.

“Are you embarrassed that they know you’re mine?” he questioned, walking up behind you. He rested his head against your shoulder, but your mind was in a haze once you felt his hard cock pressing against you.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to be yours? I’m definitely not embarrassed,” you said, making him laugh as he moved your hair to the side the place more kisses to your neck.

“Well, I did hear them say we should finish studying,” he said, as his hand reached over to untie your robe. “I’m not done studying you yet.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, when his hand started to massage one of your breasts, gently pinching at your nipple. Your back leaned against his chest as you relaxed into his touches, your breathing getting heavier as his hand trailed lower. “Can I be on top?”

“For a little bit, yeah,” he mumbled against you as his fingers rubbed across your still-soaked pussy. “Is that okay?”

“Mhm.”

You had so many things you wanted to do with Ethan, so many things you hadn’t experienced yet. Any nerves you had about your inexperience faded, your confidence showing as you got on top to straddle him.

“Take your time, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, as you grabbed his cock that was resting against his lower stomach. You lined him up with your entrance and started to sink down on him. “So tight,” he groaned, as you tried to get used to the stretched-out feeling. He wasn’t all the way in and you already felt so full.

“Mmm,” you moaned once you’d taken all of him, your ass meeting the top of his thighs.

You took a minute, trying to adjust your legs to the most comfortable position as his hands ran up your sides. Once you started to bounce on him, his hands went to your hips to help you move. Your bottom lip went in between your teeth as you held eye contact with him. Once he started to thrust up into you, your hands went to your breasts, massaging them as he helped your hips meet his.

He loved having you on top, and he loved watching the way your tits bounced, but he needed to be in control. He needed to push your limits a little until you were falling apart underneath him. He held your hips in place a few seconds before he flipped you over, a squeal flying out of your mouth. He smirked down at you before he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing them toward you with his hands.

“Stop me if anything hurts, okay?” he said, as you smiled and nodded. He slid back inside of you, his hands right below the back of your knees as he started to pound into you.

Your mouth fell open as he fucked you, every sound that built up in your throat flying out. He was so deep, but the tip of his cock hit your g-spot with every thrust.

“That feel good?” he asked, pushing your legs closer to you. You babbled in response, the new angle making him go even deeper. “Look at you, so cock drunk, so perfect.”

All you could do was whimper as you felt yourself getting close. You were fighting to keep your fluttering eyes open, because you didn’t want to miss a single second of watching him. The beautiful boy that you’d fallen so hard for had a thin layer of sweat on his forehead that his curls were starting to stick to, his bottom lip was in between his teeth. You felt so submissive as you just laid there and took it. You were okay with him using you in whatever way he wanted, because you’d do anything for him.

“You gonna cum, baby?” he asked, as he felt your walls start to flutter.

“Yes!” you cried out, your hands shakily gripping the comforter again as the wave crashed into you so hard your vision got fuzzy. You kept trying to talk as he fucked you through it, his teeth showing as he smiled at your babbles.

“I’m almost there, baby. Can you take it a little longer?” he asked as your eyes peeled open to look at him.

“Yes, it feels so good,” you moaned, as he sped up, chasing his orgasm.

Your body kept jolting like little aftershocks from the intensity of your own orgasm, and you were feeling a little overstimulated, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. He was going so fast and so deep as he panted, mumbling your name as his head started to roll back.

“Gonna…fuck. Cum,” he said, pulling his cock out and shooting his release all over your tummy. He caught his breath as he looked at you through his hooded eyes. You smiled at him as he moved to lay on the bed beside you.

“I think we need to shower,” you said, glancing down at his cum on you. “I don’t really have anything that has a manly scent, though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll get to smell like you,” he said, his fingertips brushing against your arm.

After your shower with Ethan, you concealed the giant purple mark on your neck and took the walk of shame over to Tara’s. Your friends got quiet as you walked in, glancing back and forth between you and Ethan.

“Sooo,” Chad said, noticing Ethan’s wet hair, “Did you two finally realize that you’re meant to be together?”

“Oh yeah,” Ethan said, as Chad walked over to dap him up.

“It’s about time. It was getting exhausting to watch the two of you,” Mindy said, as Tara nodded in agreement.

You, Ethan and Chad walked over to sit on the couch as Mindy pushed play on the movie she was waiting to start until you got there. After a few minutes, Chad looked over to Ethan.

“Dude, this is a little blunt, but you smell so good right now.”

You started to giggle as Ethan laughed and wrapped his arm around you, holding you close.

“He’s right, you do smell good.”

[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[sepherinaspoppies]

after hours - modern! aemond targaryen x reader

summary: she receives a late night call from her needy boyfriend, aemond.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f and m masturbation, phone sex, use of sex toys for reader, and I think that's it?

wc: 2,387

masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a very small drabble lmao. anyways this is kind of unedited. oops

She sits on her bed, a plate of yesterday’s reheated pepperoni pizza laid across her lap while the television played rerun episodes of Gilmore Girls when her phone rang unexpectedly.

At such late hours she decided to let her phone ring, for if she answered whoever it was calling on the other end would know she was awake and she did not want that. It was probably one of those scam calls that were going around tricking people to give out their credit card information for their own benefit.

Though, she wondered if they knew that she had only ten dollars currently sitting in her bank account after she had spent the last of her savings on pizza. 

She sighed happily once her ringtone slowly faltered down but it wasn’t long before it started ringing again and again. And on the fourth ring she sadly set down her pizza to the side before snatching off her phone from the power socket. 

Her eyes widen in horror as she views the bold letters of the caller ID. She immediately accepts the call, rushing to turn off the television to give her full attention to her caller. 

“Angel.” Aemond greeted in a low hum, sounds of metal clanking could be heard from the background. 

She appreciates that he doesn’t sound angry for her lack of response. In the past few months she had the pleasure of knowing Aemond, she had come to learn very quickly that he was not a very patient man. If Aemond wanted something, whether it’d be something materialistic or sexual, he wanted it now in any way possible. 

“Hey Aem, sorry I thought you’d be asleep.” She apologizes, setting a few pieces of loose hair behind her ear.  

In the other line, she hears Aemond acknowledge her by singing another low hum, something Aemond regularly did that frustrated her. At first she thought Aegon was just joking around when he first set them up on a blind date, that Aemond was a man of a few words and only humming out his responses. But as she got to know him more throughout their dating phase, she realized that Aegon was in fact not joking. It took her months to break him out of his shell. 

“So, how are things down south?” She asks, quickly changing the subject to that of his work status. 

Aemond worked in the field he always wanted to be in; as a high school history and philosophy teacher. Aemond loved his job even if they were students who made it tough for him to educate those who did take their studies seriously. He loved the challenge. He loved being up on his feet teaching the histories of how Westeros came to be or educating the famous ideologies of the greatest philosophers that made Aemond fall in love with the subject. 

You could say Aemond was a workaholic. There was no denying that. What some teachers considered the best part of teaching was the summer vacations, Aemond absolutely despised it. However that problem would soon resolve after she had called up her uncle Oberyn, who taught gender and sexuality studies at Sunspear University, if there were any positions available for Aemond’s area of degree during the summer. To her delight, her uncle informed her that the university was looking for someone who was fluent in High Valyrian to teach a beginner course. 

Aemond immediately emailed his resume in and within a few days after his students left for summer break Aemond got on a plane to Dorne and began to work in his new position in a new city. 

Which was about a month ago. 

“Hard,” Aemond breathes as he licks his lips. 

“Aw, my love—” She tried to comfort him before she was cut off. “Hot,” Aemond corrects himself, standing up from his own bed to retrieve his laptop. 

“Well Dorne is known to be quite hot. Especially during the summer.” She informs in a matter of fact tone as she toys with the thin strap of her nightgown. “Besides, I thought dragons prefer the heat.” 

A low chuckle came from the other end. She can practically imagine the corners of his lips curving up to a smirk. “We do prefer heat but we are not immune to it as you think. I even purchased three fans to keep myself cool. Though, they do not work for shit which leaves me, as of right now bare.” 

She paused, straightening up from the bed. “When you say bare—”

“I mean bare as when I came into this world” 

A long silence came afterward, and she could hear the beat of her own heart thumping against the screen of her phone. She looked at her Charlie Brown calendar hung above her nightstand. Once she confirmed that today was in fact the weekend, it became evident why Aemond was calling at such a late hour. 

Heat began to seep into her lower belly down between her thighs at what she could surmise would happen next. 

It had been some time since they were last intimate. Forty-two days to be exact; the day before his departure to Dorne.

Aemond and her spent the whole morning, afternoon and night tangled within each other going round after round in different positions and different rooms of their shared cottage saying their goodbyes until she passed out from the many orgasms Aemond gave her. The following morning Aemond threw himself into fits of giggles when she could no longer stand up from their bed to drive him to the airport, feeling sore and bruised from the intensity of the night before. 

“Angel? Have I lost you?” Aemond asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She replied with a shaky no before Aemond began to speak again. “Hmm then accept my facetime call.” Her eyes locked with her laptop which she did not realize it had been ringing and nervously pressed the green button. 

Through the low lighted room she could see the silhouette of Aemond. His laptop perched on top of his stomach, his bare and freckled chest full on display. She so desperately wished she was there to roam her hands all over him. And she stifled a moan when she noticed Aemond’s silver hair was pulled back into a braid just as how she liked it. 

“There you are my beautiful angel,” Aemond purrs, giving his hardened cock a good squeeze from the base. His eye roams over her clothed figure, taking in her sheer white nightgown that leaves nothing to his imagination. 

Heats spread to her cheeks, his compliments never tiring her. 

“You don’t know how much I miss you, angel. Your hands—” On cue her hand slowly waves itself down between her thighs, pushing her lacy panties to the side as her fingers come into contact with her arousal on the way to her clit. 

“Stroking my cock while your lovely mouth sucks me off.” Aemond imagines it all like it was yesterday and his cock pulsed so hard it ached. It wasn’t any better when he saw her chest rise and fall with wanton little pants escaping her lips. 

She was touching herself. Something Aemond warned her not to do in his absence. He wanted to reprimand her for such an act but instead Aemond let her continue as he wanted to watch her unfold and peak especially for what he had in mind. 

“Oh, Aemond, I miss you too.” She whines, throwing her head back into the pillows, struggling to keep her laptop perched ontop her knees. Waves of pleasure move throughout her body, his words going straight to her core. 

She hears Aemond groan. 

“Your tongue on my cunt and- and—” Her words stammer and she feels the tips of her ears flush with embarrassment for her next confession. “Go on, angel.” Aemond encourages as he gazes at her reddened state. He finds it endearing and if he was there right now, he would pull away her hand until she confessed. 

“Your nose.”  

“And what about my nose?” He hums using his thumb to circle the tip of cock. 

“I-I love your nose on my clit.” 

Aemond’s one good eye widened and felt the intense pressure in his lower stomach increase. It was no wonder why whenever he went down on her she screamed the loudest when his nose brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Aemond continued watching her touch and lose herself in pleasure. Intensely watching as her fingers vigorously circled her clit with sweat above her brow. He moaned sweet nothings through his laptop and just as he sensed she was about to peak, Aemond stopped her. 

She did as she was told and she couldn’t help to let out a few tears of frustration.

“Get your buzzy out, angel.” Aemond instructed. Instantly her mood shifts into an excited and eager one. 

“Which one?” 

“Oh you know which one.” 

She definitely knows which one. Her hand reaches for the drawer of her nightstand where inside lay rows of different forms of vibrators as well as different sizes and shapes of dildos Aemond purchased within their relationship. Their favorite being a dual pink vibrator that was made to stimulate her g-spot along with her clit. It was also remote and app controlled with multiple levels of speed and vibrations that made her come in less than five minutes. Which was good since it took her a while to come. 

“Good. Now be a good girl and undress in front of me, angel” She eagerly nods at his words and sets her laptop in front of her. “Look at me while you bare yourself to me.” Her eyes snap up meeting his darkened violet eye that was full of passion and concentration as her fingers lift the hem of her nightgown. 

She sees him bite his lower lip once her breasts are revealed. Aemond nods for her to proceed to take off the next piece of clothing and she does so, tossing it somewhere across the room not caring where it lands. 

Having laid together multiple times, she swallows the need to cover herself and spreads her legs apart just enough for Aemond to gaze through the camera at how wet she was for him. Aemond inhales the desire to stroke his cock into completion. He wanted to see her fall apart first. 

“Now place the buzzy in your cunt, slowly.” 

She rubs the silicone against her slick gathering some of her juices before sliding the thicker part of the vibrator inside. She sighs in relief at the sensation, it wasn’t as big and delicious of a stretch like Aemond’s cock but it was just right to feel some satisfaction. 

She then bends the longest part of the silicone gently against her pulsating clit with needy whines and pants waiting for further instructions. 

Seven fucking Hells. Aemond curses to himself wishing nothing more than to book a flight back to King’s Landing and have her sit on his face licking away her juices. Aemond remembers that in a month that will happen soon. 

Aemond’s fingers swipe through the different kinds of vibrational settings through the blue hearted app and settle for one with the lowest speed to get her started. 

Once Aemond hears a series of surprised cries and gasps, he gives up on trying not to touch himself. He starts stroking his cock at a languid pace as he watches his lovely little angel struggle to keep her legs still and open through the camera. 

“You’re doing so well baby,” She hears Aemond praise. “Tell me does that feel good? Are you close? Answer me, sweet angel.” 

She fervently nods her head. 

“Use your words, angel.” 

“Y-yes.” She says, barely being able to control words out through the pleasure. “Yes, what?” Aemond taunts before he lets out a hiss when the fat head of cock starts to ache more. He knew he wasn’t going to last long as he hadn’t touched himself so intimately in forty-two days, wanting to also keep good on his promise. 

“Yes, Aemond, it feels so good. I need more please.” While vibrations felt so indescribably good it wasn’t sufficient to send her over the edge. She knew Aemond set the vibrator in level one. And in their lovemaking, Aemond usually set the speed at level five which was neither too fast nor too slow. Just right to see stars followed by another round. 

When Aemond set his laptop to the side, giving her a full view of his proud length standing straight against his stomach, she nearly lost it, clenching the silicone tightly inside her walls. Gods she really did miss him. All of him. 

She groans loudly when Aemond sets the speed she likes, making her eyes roll at the back of her head, pinching both of her nipples for some extra stimulation but what Aemond says makes her halt and glance at his disheveled state. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” He moans as she watches his hand stroke his cock vigorously while long ropes of his seed spurt all across his chest and hand. Series of whines and growls leave his lips all while his hips buck upwards at the intense pleasure that makes Aemond cry. Literally cry. 

She watches all in awe.  

Saying he looked beautiful was an understatement. No, Aemond looked so godly and ethereal and she understood now the reference that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. 

Once Aemond steadied himself, the words left her lips without thinking. 

“That was quick.” 

And before she had time to explain, the air in her lungs left quickly like her words as she felt the most intense and deep sensation between her legs. She let out incoherent noises to which she could not describe. Were they moans? Groans? Cries? She did not know. 

All she did know was the tightness in her lower belly finally snapped and her orgasm washes all over her like a tide. 

After a few minutes, she heard Aemond laugh through the screen. “You were saying?” He teases as he waves his phone around the camera. 

She feels too tired to reply. Her body automatically feels relaxed and stress-free. 

“Oh, angel, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not done with you yet. I’m still very hard.” 

Oh shit….

im gonna go hide under my bed now lol

general taglist: @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost

empty is who I could not tag im sorry!

if you like to be on my general taglist click here

[midnightcaptions]

Soul and Maka tho 👀

I love them a normal amount. I wonder why I ship them. Gee, it couldn't be any number of these little things.

bickers like an old married couple, compares a partner exchange/breakup to infidelity. "Cool men don't cheat." literally the narrator: "Maka, and her partner and weapon, Soul Eater-"

dies for her. dies for her. dies for him.

bonus: breaks her fall

(this post keeps going, i'm putting the rest under a readmore)

Staying at the bedside while in recovery. The babies.

Couple's Therapy lmao

Domestic as all be.

Didn't have to have a special little dance to form a gameplan! Didn't have to dress up for it to enter the black room!

Trusted him to be her lifeline to pull her out of the depths of madness. So he pulled her out of the depths of madness.

"It's always there for me. This is my Soul Eater's soul!"

"The sound of his soul. All his emotions, they're flowing from him straight into me. What I'm sensing is…faith, and confidence. This is our foundation. This is our courage!" ok baby stop being so sappy ugh ♥I'm well aware synchronizing is essential to a solid resonance, but they went HARD on this. Soul went hard on this, to stand a chance in this fight. He did this for her.

THIS???? Saving him from certain death and/or madness?? She ventured literally DEEP inside his soul to bring him back from the brink.

If Soul's courage is for Maka, of course she'd have the key! PRECIOUS. Key to his heart chest! Yaaasss

Goes even deeper into his soul, to retrieve that petrified little piece of him he's locked away in the lockbox.

Because none of this is meaningful or intimate as heck, nooooope.

[lucysarah-c]

I apologize if this has been asked before but what do you think Levi's kinks are? :)

Hi, sweetie! Oh, do not worry, no need to apologize! I haven’t received this ask before, and even if I did, it’s not a biggie. I could just attach a link to that ask here <3 Do not worry.

MH, Levi’s kinks… good question.

Power play for sure. Have you seen this man say that “pain is the best discipline”? He's always 100% down to teach you your place, at least in the bedroom. Outside of it, he deeply respects your position. Inside the room? Oh baby girl, he wants you to know he’s in charge and could spend his entire life reminding you of it.

…Shibari or tying up. Have you seen those uniforms? Levi sees that harness and deep down he wonders how pretty you would look all tied up. This one is a bit more tricky, so he and you may work around it to see how much of it you're both into.

Overstimulation, absolutely. Those Ackerman powers are a blessing; he knows he can last for hours. Can you? Oh, it's okay, baby, don’t be scared. He'll just have to keep fucking you, and if by any means you end up feeling like your legs are made of jelly from all the times he made you cum… well, I guess that’s the consequence of dating humanity’s strongest soldier. I think he could just feel getting hard, or getting cocky by feeling how you shake against his face as he keeps eating you out like a thirsty man who had been traveling across a desert. The idea that he left you completely and absolutely destroyed makes him feel so cocky. You can accuse this man of many things, but leaving you unsatisfied in bed isn’t one of them.

Degradation and praise kink. Depending on the situation and his mood, he can go either way or BOTH at the same time. “Aw, you look so pretty riding my cock. You’re doing amazing, girly. Mh? Enjoy that dick?” you will nod as you ride him with all your life “I bet. What a dirty little cock whore you turned out to be.”

Alright, maybe this one isn’t popular and maybe it's a bit OOC on my part… Corruption kink. At multiple times in his life, as the famous former thug who lived in the most dangerous part inside the walls, the idea of getting you, looking at him with doe eyes through your eyelashes, faking innocence or truly having it… I can literally picture him thinking, “Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have much experience or doesn’t know how to make me feel good yet. I’m a very good and patient teacher… have an entire lifetime to mold her into perfection.” He likes to save the best for last; this man would enjoy every single little detail of seeing you fall into the beautiful dark pleasure he can show you.

Those are the ones that come to mind rather quickly…

I’ll give you (as if my ramblings are worthy material to be gifted, lmao) 2 kinks that I DON’T think Levi has and I believe are very popular.

Breeding kink. Like this one, maybe depending on the situation and if it’s a “game” kind of thing. But I feel Levi is a person who takes paternity very seriously; it has to be a VERY particular scenario for me (at least canon Levi) where he’s like, “fuck it, yeah let’s risk getting you pregnant.” BUT it’s a kink I can see A LOT more in Post-War Levi; it’s not that he doesn’t want to breed you… he’s just too responsible to take the risk.

Daddy. HAHA I feel like if you called Levi that in the middle of sex, he would freeze a little and be like, “Sir? Yes. Captain? Absolutely. What did you just say? Just… no.” I dare to say that if you bring it up playfully, perhaps as a joke, he will wrinkle his nose and say, “If you want to fuck Erwin, just say it, but don’t bring that shit into my bedroom.”

I had fun writing this one; I feel it’s a classic “Levi’s blog” ask that surprisingly I’ve never received before! Thank you for that! Hope this was good enough.

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @twruui @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[heartshapedmisery]

thinking about art x fem reader whose also a tennis player, she gets hurt playing practice against art and he feels so bad.. leading to other things to help her feel better

like best friends to lovers type thing IDK JUST A THOUGHT for a blurb

IM LOVING THIS IDEA THANK U ANON! <3 (this was meant to be shorter but i got so carried away with it lmao)

tags: heavy makeout, slight dry-humping, fingering...

No because Art truly is the competitive type, so if you were to suggest a friendly game after practice he would definitely take it way too seriously...

"What, you're giving up on me now?" he'd taunt when you were getting worn out, bent over with your hands on your knees to catch your breath. You looked up at him to see his knowing smirk, twirling the racket in his hand impatiently.

You didn't expect him to play so hard, since you thought it would just be light-hearted like you had suggested. Though that was the thing about Art; he never went easy on anybody, especially not you—his best friend.

"Nope," you said simply, brushing your fly-away hairs out of your face. "Just wondering why the hell I suggested this."

Art laughed, but didn't give you any sympathies. He waited for you to get back into position before serving to you, and you got back into the game.

It seemed to go well for a while, the bright yellow ball going back and forth between the two of you with a mix of grunts. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, which is why you didn't feel your ankle twist from underneath of you until your body fell onto the court harshly.

A confused whimper sounded from your throat as you rolled over, grasping at your ankle that was now searing with pain. A few tears welled in your eyes as your face contorted with discomfort, the sound of Art's racket smacking down against the court as he quickly jumped over the net and crouched down next to you.

"Oh my god," his eyes scanned your face, his heart sinking at the way you silently sobbed with your head lulled back on the court. He quickly examined your ankle, realizing that it was already swelling and needed to be iced.

"It's okay, it's okay," he assured you sweetly, helping you sit up before wrapping his arm around your waist. "Put your arm around my neck and we're gonna stand up, alright?"

You did as he told you, slinking it around his neck and fisting his shirt as you fought back a cry when he pulled you up, the pressure and bloodflow to your foot making the pain worse.

He tried to help you walk as best as you could, holding you upright while you put all of your weight on your left foot and hobbled with him back to his dorm since it was only a block away from the tennis courts.

When you did finally make it, he helped you over to his bed and helped you sit down gently, before going to his mini fridge and tying up an ice pack for you to put on your ankle.

"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," he shook his head defeatedly, crouching down in front of you and carefully wrapping the bag around your ankle. The new sensation made your breath hitch, before the pain slowly started to subside.

"No its okay, it was an accident. It's no one's fault," you told him honestly, your mind slightly fogged at the feeling of his hand cupping the back of your calf as he held your foot up. He mindlessly rubbed your soft skin, unaware of the affect it had on you as his mind spiraled.

"No, but I pushed you too hard," he explained, his voice low. "It's my fault."

You shook your head, before taking his face in your hands. You cupped his jaw softly, your forgiving eyes holding his gaze.

"No it's not, stopping beating yourself up about it."

"I know, I just-"

You abruptly cut him off by bringing your lips to his, the apology falling dead in his mouth. You caught him completely off guard, but he still melted into the kiss, allowing his hands to run up the sides of your thighs.

"Now will you stop?" you whispered once you finally pulled away, running your fingers subconsciously through his blonde locks of hair.

He nodded, before pulling you back in for another kiss. He took it upon himself to lay you down against his bed, slotting himself in between your slightly spread legs.

You didn't know why, but this felt so easy. It didn't feel weird or awkward, given that he had been your best friend since high school. If anything, it made perfect sense.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, cradling your head with his free hand while the other ran up your side. You nodded eagerly, giving him the green light to bring his lips back to yours.

Your heartbeat picked up as you felt him harden beneath his shorts against your thigh the more intense the kiss became, his hips slowly beginning to move in seek of friction.

You slipped you tongue into his mouth, earning a moan from him as his hand wandered down your body before grasping your waist and thumbing your hip. Your non-injured leg wrapped around his waist in attempt to bring him closer with a moan, completely enthralled with the feeling of him.

Suddenly, your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your skirt, dipping into your panties. You let out a shaky moan as Art sunk his middle and ring finger into your soaked cunt, curling them upwards gently as he continued kissing down your jaw and the soft skin of your neck.

It drove him wild how wet you already were for him, the muffled squelching sound of his fingers moving in and out of you making his dick harder.

It didn't take long for him to have your thighs shaking around his hips and your toes curling in your tennis shoes, disgruntled moans mixing with his soft grunts.

You would've never guessed you'd be sprawled out on your best friend's bed coming down from the orgasm he had just given you, but you definitely weren't complaining.

[a-libra-writes]

can I please request for a Mordecai Heller x female reader? like reader is a showgirl who sings on stage like Mitzi one and tends to attract a lot of attention but backs out when they feel this murdercat plotting their death lmao. thank you 😁

heyo! I decided to do a looot of the cats for this one, since its p similar to my Peaky Blinders Jazz Singer post that I was fond of. GN Reader.

Being a Jazz Singer & Performer!

Rocky - When he was hired and met you for the first time, it was absolutely an "infatuation at first sight" situation. Pros!: He's unfailingly polite and sweet, he seems to play with even more energy when you two share a stage, his grin is very off-putting to creeps who shout up at the stage and harass you. Cons: He can get quite distracted when you two share a stage. Many times Zib has had to pull him back with the rest of the band, because he keeps unintentionally scooting closer to you.

The worst part of the Lackadaisy falling onto hard times is the fact you rarely worked there now - you had to sing at other clubs to make ends meet. One of Rocky's big motivators for getting the club back to its old self is you'd come back! Forever this time! (Probably). Rocky doesn't exactly have the time or money to visit the other clubs you work at, so he wants all of your attention during your infrequent visits to the Lackdaisy.

Freckle - Look, he's a shy kid, and the whole 'sneaking out under cover of night to do bootlegging/torpedo shenanigans' is still new. He doesn't have a lot of experience or frame of reference for what a good club singer is like, but Freckle thinks you've got to be one of the best. You have to be, right? Your voice is wonderful and you look positively celestial under the stage lights - wait, that's weird to think, right? Thank God he didn't say it out loud. ... He didn't, right?

Freckle hasn't the slightest idea of how to approach you, so it's up to Ivy and his cousin to drag him over and attempt conversation. It's... a little pitiable, but he's trying. That said, he's surprisingly outspoken and a little scary if someone tried to mess with you while you performed. You're used to the heckles and catcalls, but it's shocking to see that shy tabby jump up from his seat and raise his voice at them.

Ivy - She liked you from the moment she first saw you perform at the Lackdaisy, and that crush hasn't dulled over the months. She maaaay have kept a few posters that advertised the clubs you sang at, and may or may not have cajoled her way into those clubs so she could watch the show. She could easily sweet talk her way to backstage, too - seems you've got a fan.

When the Lackadaisy goes downhill, it's Ivy who wants to sweet talk you into returning. You'll bring in a crowd! The acoustics are great! Pretty pleeease? Her dad Ivy will pay you and not get in trouble until months later when the family accountant goes over the finances. Obviously she cares about the club's wellbeing, but she also wants to spend time with you! Though she's bold enough to just ask you outright. She's also bold enough to outright shout and fight anyone whose heckling you - throwing a heel is a favorite tactic.

Viktor - You're someone he saw often in the olden days, back when the club could afford to have you perform several times a week rather than once a month. Viktor never cared much for the cacophony the crowd and music made, though he knew objectively you were an excellent performer. Rather than endure the crowd, he'd listen to your voice drift across the caves backstage, rehearsing with the band or just by yourself. It was pleasant to listen to, and he could do so in private, either coming back from a job or about to go on one.

Once things began to fall apart, it's not as though he went around to clubs ... or anywhere, really. So if you stopped performing at the Lackadaisy, you might never see each other again. Choosing to stay (or at least do a few pity gigs) would lead to the surprising sight of the big, morose Slav working behind the bar and watching from there, rather than his previous hideouts. It's a little intense to be under that stare... but not all unpleasant? And given how sparse the crowd is, anyone making trouble and catcalling will get dealt with so promptly, they won't even have time to finish their wolf whistle.

Zib - Well, obviously he's going to be drawn in by an attractive singer. Come on. Zib can be smooth when he wants, chainsmoker-scent and rumpled clothes aside. The band likes to tease him mercilessly about it, but that doesn't stop him from cozying up while you two perform together and shooting his shot backstage after every show. Back when the Lackadaisy was thriving, he could afford to hang out at the other clubs you performed at; nowadays, though, that's not so likely.

Even so, starting up a friendship or even fling wouldn't be difficult. He's attracted to and interested in creative spirits, doubly so if you two had very different taste (so there's more to discuss!) and you got on well with the rest of the band. Late-night debates about this musician or that show over a game of cards and several bottles of wine, either together or with the rest of the boys, and waking up half-dressed and seriously hungover come sunrise. Opportunities for visiting would dwindle as the Lackadaisy's business dried up, though if you stayed on ... No, he wouldn't want that for you. If anything you'd be mentioning to him and the band that there's other places to perform to pay the bills. Well, it'd be food for thought.

Wick - Wick wouldn't call himself a music aficionado, especially what's listened to at these rowdy speakeasies, but he won't deny how hard it was to focus on his business associates when you were on stage. So when he discovered you often performed at his favorite club, it was a pleasant surprise. He really wanted to speak with you at some point, at least compliment the performance, but didn't want to come off as those typical entitled wealthy guys who get too fresh with ""lower"" class performers ... so sometimes you'd find flowers in the dressing room and an anonymous note of appreciation.

He finally gets a conversation when you're a guest at a posh party he's attending, or when you continue to perform at the Lackadaisy in spite of the dwindling crowd. It's a shame your large audience is missing, but at least it's way less awkward for him to strike up conversation when you come to the bar? He probably won't bring up the flowers. Oh god, what if you think that's weird. You probably assumed the flowers were some freak fan. Is he a freak fan? He's not, right? (It will take him like months of dating to finally admit to the flowers thing)

Serafine - A good-looking cat with a nice set of pipes is certainly someone she'd notice, especially if they were a regular performer at the Marigold Room and other places she frequented before that. If it was the former, she'd have plenty of chances to wink when you met eyes, "chancing" across you backstage or just being forward and chatting you up after the show. She certainly isn't shy about expressing her interest, and it could be a fun fling.

You do look adorable swinging your hips and swaying your tail along to the beat, not to mention the different get-ups you have to dress in. Serafine maaaay or may not have wanted to help pick a suit out, or help with make-up, or give you some of her jewelry to wear... It's half marking her territory and half she loves to lounge around your dressing room and be a pest. You'd never kick her out and she knows it. She'll do it in other clubs, too, though you have no idea how she keeps getting past security.

Nico - Like his sister, he has no qualms nor shame about trying to get your attention on stage. Unlike Serafine, though, he'd start doing it immediately and be a general pest after the show. The difference between his attention seeking and the other men's in the audience is he actually has some charisma when you two meet backstage, so you're only slightly inclined to tell him to buzz off. He wasn't much of a music expert, and he still isn't ... But he likes hearing you rehearse and hum to yourself, and it's endearing when he requests songs.

He's pleased when you get gigs at the Marigold Room, as it's easier to hang around before and after the show - and bonus, he gets to be extra aggressive with throwing creeps out to impress you! But if you're performing elsewhere then Nico will stop by. He might be bruised and/or bloody because he just left a job, but don't worry! Sometimes he'll even bring flowers or whatever - though without Serafine knowing, she'd never let him live it down.

Mordecai - He wouldn't approach you any differently from others - he'd still be his usual prickly, anti-social, often awkward self - in fact, he might avoid an avid performer, simply because they often have fans around them or at least people recognizing them. What could get his notice was someone whose real persona is very different from their ostentatious self on stage - more quiet and pensive, perhaps. Like any attempt at friendship, let alone romance, it's slow going with him.

That said, he's the type to admire professionalism in a performance. A well put together outfit, thoughtful musical arrangement (as if he's an expert ...). He wouldn't like a femme presenting singer have to wear skimpy clothes or tolerate a rowdy audience. If there was a questionable manager or creepy fan bothering them, Mordecai can deal with that, at least, not that he'd tell his friend/partner. Mordecai would generally glare down any touchy fans and annoying admirers like a jealous terrier. This amuses Mitzi to no end.

Asa - Simply put, he saw you performing at a ritzy party he was invited to and reached out to your manager so you might perform on a weekly basis at the Marigold Room. Very professional! He'd send flowers with his name to the dressing room afterward, would make sure you're finding everything to your liking and not being bothered by anyone. Requests to continue performing would bypass your manager to being nice, short handwritten notes.

Eventually he'd pay you extra and treat you to a nice dinner afterward, if you were comfortable with it. If you let the older man down, he's not too bothered. He'd continue the friendly business relationship and would still send flowers and so on. He'd rather keep you as a good business associate and continue to enjoy the performances than let his silly feelings get in the way. Alas, he is hopeless at discussions of your music. My guy called a ukelele a tiny guitar.

Wes - He never hung around the Marigold Room after hours - it's his workplace, and not really his vibe - but it's very hard to resist not sitting by for an hour (or three) with a drink while you finish your set. Sometimes you two will meet eyes, or he thinks you are, and he considers dropping backstage to say ... hello? He's an 'employee', so isn't checking up on you a normal thing to do? Make sure you're satisfied with the Marigold Room and all that. Right.

Ironically that's how he's finally able to meet the singer he's been mooning over for months. A drunk patron was getting too cozy on your way out, and Wes happened to be there. His face and ... charming demeanor is good for scaring off upper class wimps. So there's that. He's not so bad, though - clumsy, and prooobably realizes you're out of his league. You get to see more of his earnest side when you two meet outside of the Marigold Room, where his fellow murderous gangsters coworkers aren't watching yalls every move with popcorn in hand.