#ok the beginning of a new fic

[frownyalfred]

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) Additional Tags: Requited Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealousy, Jealous Clark Kent, Minor Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)/Bruce Wayne, Hookups, Casual Sex, or is it????, One Night Stands, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Clark Kent is So Done, No Strings Attached, or ARE there??, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Ships It, no beta we die like jason todd Summary:

Clark struggles with something his Ma might call jealousy after walking in on Bruce and Hal together after a mission. Instead of letting Clark's feelings ruin the Justice League's hard-won team cohesion, Bruce suggests an alternative arrangement: sleep together once, work the tension between them out of their systems, and then go back to normal afterward.

The problem with that plan? It's not just casual, and neither of them can ever go back to normal once it's all said and done.

[rogloptimist]

watched a little too much 25 21 this week and @mundanememory’s matteo/jonas got me badddddd

The closet smells like dust and Lysol. It clashes against the gentle bergamot and wood of Jonas’s cologne, Matteo’s favorite of his small set.

“You haven’t worn this one in a while,” He whispers, his voice reflecting in hot breath against Jonas’s cheek. “It’s nice.”

“Mm,” The other man acknowledges. He pulls Matteo in by the waist, further response neglected. Matteo, as usual, let’s him take the lead. Jonas kisses unhurried, moving as if down a familiar road. Soft, casual. Matteo has to be careful to not seem clumsy in comparison– against Jonas’s steady, contained calm it’s hard not to feel gangly, limbs and want spilling out of him like he’s overflowing.

He’s making a conscious effort not to melt too much into the way Jonas drapes his arms around him, carefully monitoring the electricity sparking in his chest as the lovely warmth of the blond’s tongue darts into his mouth. It’s practically routine, but his face still flushes from the way his heart races as Jonas slides a hand up his sweater. Matteo runs hot– Jonas is chronically cold. He’s pictured holding his slender fingers in his own until they reach an equilibrium a frankly embarrassing number of times— an image he distracts himself from by trailing down Jonas’s neck in a tentative kisses, which really doesn’t do much to help. He has to remind himself that they do this in a custodial closet for a reason, sometimes. The ring that bites into his shoulder is a silent reprimand, coaxing him away from the more domestic of his fantasies.

He has to lean down a little for this, and he cups his hands around Jonas’s jaw as he licks softly at the delicate skin of the smaller man’s throat. They both know what comes next– Matteo undoes the metal clasp and zipper of Jonas’s navy blue dress pants in practiced motions and drops to his knees against the rough carpet.

“Wait,” Jonas interrupts, straying from their typical script of wordlessness. Matteo pauses, looks up. “I’m live soon.”

It’s not refusal so much as a warning. He dares a smile. “Okay, boss.”

He works quicker from there, wasting less time with his typical frivolities as he pulls down the elastic waistband of Jonas’s boxers. Jonas is halfway there, and it doesn’t take much work to get him fully hard as Matteo strokes him with a hand blushing at the knuckles. Jonas exhales sharp and long through his nose as Matteo takes him between his lips and begins his ritual. It’s a clandestine dance, both of them practiced at keeping pleasure quiet. Jonas has a hand thrown over his eyes, breathing controlled, steadily regulating the reactions of his body in a way that seems almost natural, thoughtless. It would make Matteo envious if room for such emotion wasn’t taken by reverence.

He works his tongue into the hot salt of Jonas’s dick heavy in his mouth, chasing after the way he bucks his hips forward in seeking for more– of which he is eager to give. His head buzzes with thrill as he hears Jonas’s breaths grow shakier in suppression of the more crude sounds behind his lips. The world shrinks down to just the two of them when they’re together. The rush in his veins is fueled solely by Jonas; his body, his pleasure, his praise. He could ride the high that he gets as Jonas fucks into his mouth and comes with an escaped moan for days. He waits a moment before swallowing and wiping his lips, entranced by the way Jonas’s golden curls fall back into place as he runs a hand through his hair.

Jonas zips up his dark pants. The simple gold of his wedding band flashes in the drifts of light that seep through the cracks in the door. Matteo brings his gaze away and back up to Jonas’s face.

Jonas looks Matteo up and down as he gets up from his place on the ground. “You wore the green tie,” he notes.

“Oh, yeah. People said it looked nice last Friday.” By people, he means Jonas. He was hoping he’d notice again, a little.

“It looks good with your hair,” Jonas says, which makes Matteo have to smother a grin. “Trine told me first. It’s her favorite color. She knows more about what goes with what than I do,” He laughs. 

“Oh,” Matteo smiles, a little forced. He remembers his own stilted words clashing against Jonas’s relaxed introductions between the three of them. He likes Trine, really.

“Ah, I’m on in a few minutes.” Jonas taps on his watch screen. “I’ll see you later, hm?”

“Right, yeah. Good luck live, eh, boss?” They both know he doesn’t need it, but Jonas smiles back anyways. He steps out casually, as if exiting any other meeting room. That evening, they’ll see each other at another team dinner and say nothing. Jonas, at least, is very good at pretending. All Matteo does is follow his lead.

[hidey-writes]

wip wednesday

In the drifting silence of his empty apartment, Shen Wei presses the door shut, turns the lock. And then, like his body was waiting until he was alone, his legs give out. Shen Wei tips/topples against/into the wall, sinks down to sitting on the front mat/in the entryway. He sits there for a long time, curled into himself with his arms around his knees. The whole time, his body braced for the sound of Zhao Yunlan’s door opening, the sound of footsteps crossing the hall. Waiting, again, for Kunlun to return to him.  But no sound comes from outside his door. At last, Shen Wei tips his head back against the wall, lets out a soft, streaming sigh. The sound trembles in the still air. It’s the closest he’s come to crying in years, that he can remember.

from the up draft of the answer fic. im cutting it veryyyyyy close to the deadline this time ahahaha (nervous!) but the writing is going relatively smoothly (knocks on wood) and i think it'll turn out pretty delicious!!

[alchemicaladarna]

Well...Happy 1 year of QSMP I guess...

There's just no easy way to say anything about everything that's been happening the past few weeks and everything that's happened since yesterday because it's a fucking dumpster fire and I'm just so tired of it all to be honest...

But this post isn't about that.

I still want to celebrate this server's first year anniversary because of how much it means to me personally. I made a post talking about how I initially started watching the qsmp (two days early 💀) but I'll reiterate what I've always said:

That despite all the problems of the server, despite all the damage that has been done, never forget what it has managed to achieve and hopefully continues to achieve in the future, under better conditions.

The QSMP's mission was to unite people from all over the world to play together and be friends despite speaking different languages and having different cultures. It united communities and formed friendships across the globe. Personally, achieving that takes more than just sticking random people in the same room together because it's about making genuine connections that could last a lifetime. And the qsmp achieved that. I'll never stop saying this because despite all its glaring problems, the qsmp is revolutionary for all the good it has managed to do.

Ok, like think about the translations alone. I'm using Bad as an example because he's the only one so far that I've seen do this but, BBH has set up live translations of multiple languages on his screen so non-english speakers can still understand his streams and his vods even if he's not playing on the qsmp. That wouldn't have happened without the QSMP's influence. That's fucking incredible!

Think about all the CC's and admins that became friends after meeting on the server. Former admins like Lumi (Pomme) and Shade (Dapper) still talking to Bad on his chat and watching his stream. That's still really awesome! Not to mention all the amazing collaboration projects with many qsmp members outside minecraft like Ordem Paranormal and Liar Liar, to name a few.

Look, the last three weeks have been extremely difficult on everyone. I myself am tired of the situation and scrolling through the tag, especially after yesterday, just makes me sad tbh. For the first time since these weeks, I felt so despondent and shocked about everything. It got to the point where, after Shade and Lumi announced their departure, I called my mom and broke down sobbing and vented about the whole admin situation. And bless her heart, my mom actually listened and I'm going to share the advice she gave me:

"Let them fix the problem. Let the company do the restructuring they need to do because right now, it sounds like they have a lot of problems to fix. It's going to take a long time before things can go back to any sense of normalcy, so while they do that, focus on yourself for now. If you're so invested in all the problems of this online world, maybe it's time to step back for now. Maybe it's time to focus on the real world."

And well, she's right. I've been so upset about the situation that my mental health wasn't faring well because of it. Yesterday was kind of a wake up call for me I guess?

I've been in this fandom for 10 months now. It's the longest time I've been invested in a community and qsmp has and will always have a special place in my heart. But I think it's time to let go and move on for now. I'll keep my hopes up and hope that the future is bright, and the qsmp will continue because it has so much potential to achieve more greatness, but I'll leave the project to rest and focus on other endeavors for now.

I'll be posting art and checking in on stuff from time to time, and of course, I'll be watching BBH, but it might be time to depart and say, "Thanks for everything, and I'll see you later."

Most people will be ashamed to mention the fandoms they've been a part of when they were younger, but 10 years from now, if anyone ever asks if I was a part of the qsmp fandom, I'll gladly say yes and tell all the good stories I have about it.

I love the community we made here on qsmpblr, and if I trust the QSMP's mission of uniting people, then I trust that, no matter what happens, this community will be here when I return.

Because...Despite everything, it's all about love, right? And no matter what happens, the love is still there, and will always be.

Thank you for the journey <33

[cleverpaws]

WOOOOOO!!!!! THIS IS SO AWFUL AND FUCKED UP AND BAD AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO STOP THEM

[queenangst]

i love writing olruggio hes the funniest bitch alive

[nezuscribe]

𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

full fics:

the arrangement - gojo satoru was a notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his image. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he’s beginning to want you. (18+)

the arrangement, act two - life was going well. better than you could have ever imagined. the whirlwind marriage between you and gojo satoru that started as an arrangement blossomed into something sweeter and more tender after you both fell in love. but that storybook life you've been living soon shatters when you're told that a bitter king wants you two to separate so gojo could marry his daughter. either that, or he promises a war to follow. you live between selfishness and sacrifice as the fate of the kingdoms rests in your, and your husband's hands.

drabbles: (act one)

gojo never wanted to marry

gojo finds out you weren't supposed to marry him

watching him train

the moments after you two got married

he sees you not wearing your ring

he interrupts you while you're baking

he leaves and you think he won't be coming back

lovey gojo

when you two first met

he's huge

what he thinks

another moment from your teens

a little inexperienced (and that's ok!)

gojo is hyper-masculine

you see him with another girl

what happens after you see him with another girl

gojo introduces you to shoko

what happens when gojo's forced to put up with your family

jealous reader (petty gojo)

your birthday

arguing with him

drabbles (act two)

the news

arranged marriage!gojo tag (everything to do with him)

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!readers on hot ones

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based partially off of the new hot ones interview with the obx cast. just imagine drew and actress!reader are on opposite teams rather than drew being the question person lol. yall really seemed to like the last interview-fic i did so voila <3

“I’m already sweating.” Madison said, fanning herself as they filed into the studio. Lights and a white backdrop surrounded a table covered with wings, four chairs on each side. They’d already been briefed on how things were going to go, the eight of them divided into two teams and answering questions, their answers deciding whether or not they’d be subjected to one of the very hot wings laid out in front of them.

Drew came up behind y/n, pulling out her chair for her before heading to his own seat opposite her. She smiled at him, soothing her dress down as the rest of the cast sat down. Madelyn, Rudy, and Carlacia took seats on her team whereas Drew sat with Chase, Madison, and JD opposite them.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, resting her chin in her hands as she looked at the man across from her, his eyes crinkling as a smile crept across his face.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, my love.” Drew raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Ok, are we ready?” One of the producers asked, to which the cast responded with excited (or perhaps anxious) cheers. The camera focused in on Chase, who reached and spun the bottle of hot sauce sitting in front of them, the ultimate decider of which team would go first. It spun for a moment before landing on Madelyn, her teammates erupting with hollers as Chases picked up one of the cards.

“Alright, Mr. Rudy,” Chase smiled cheekily. “Outer Banks has hooked viewers with its countless twists and turns, however, name one storyline you think should’ve never made it out of the writers room.”

Everyone let out some groans and giggles as Rudy began to lose himself in thought… and continued and continued to think.

“Is there a time limit on these?” JD quipped, causing Rudy to roll his eyes, stroking his chin in playful contemplation.

“This is off to a great start.” Y/n said, elbowing Rudy lightly.

“Ok, ok!” Rudy said. “I’d say… I wish they didn’t switch to the second treasure so fast. They should’ve stuck at the first treasure longer.”

“That sounds like an answer to me!” Carlacia clapped as the team opposite them picked up their wings with a groan. They each took a bite, chewing for a second before they all reached for the drinks in front of them.

“Shit.” Drew swore as he took a long sip of milk, his cheeks already beginning to flush a bright red.

“Don’t worry there’s more where that came from.” Y/n grinned as Drew shook his head. Y/n reached in front of her, grabbing another one of the question cards.

“Oh, JD,” Y/n read in a sing-song voice, “Outer Banks centers around a group of teenagers, but our cast ranges from 24 to 33 years old. Which of your costars is the least convincing teenager?”

The table erupted into “oohs” as JD surveyed his co-stars, a nervous grin on his face before his gaze landed on Chase.

“I think I have to say Mr Chase Stokes.” JD chuckled.

“Is it because of the beard?” Chase teased as y/n and her team picked up the wings in front of them. With a deep breath, y/n took a bite, her mouth immediately bursting with heat. With a groan, she reached for the ice water in front of her, hoping to soothe the fire in her throat as her eyes began to water.

“No more jokes, baby?” Drew asked as y/n fanned herself off with her hand. Y/n rolled her eyes, tossing the old question card at him. Drew picked the next card, his gaze locking onto the girl in front of him.

“Oh, perfect. Y/n,” Drew began, “part of Outer Banks’ charm is the chemistry between the cast. That being said, who here is the worst scene partner?”

“Oh no!” Y/n groaned, putting her face in her hands as the table broke out in gasps and laughter. She stole a glance at the second wing in front of her, royally coated in fiery hot sauce before thinking of an answer.

“Ok, ok! I’m going to answer, but,” y/n said with an anxious giggle, “you have to let me explain!”

Her co-stars leaned in, each of them with looks of anticipation covering their faces as y/n sat up straighter in her seat.

“My answer is…” y/n paused for dramatic affect, chewing at her bottom lip nervously, “Drew, but—”

Everyone erupted into shrieks and laughter, Drew’s jaw dropping at his girlfriend’s answer. Madelyn covered her mouth, locking eyes with Carlacia before they both turned to y/n.

“No, no, no! You have to let me explain!” Y/n reached across the table, grabbing Drew’s hand, his mouth still agape.

“This is going to be good.” Rudy chuckled.

“He’s not a bad scene partner, he is just so different from Rafe and always makes me laugh, so it takes us a million takes to get a scene done!” Y/n clarified, Drew’s shocked expression melting into a small smile.

“See, you’re just such a funny guy and I love you so much that it makes it hard to do scenes with you. It’s a compliment, really, baby.” Y/n finished with a quirk of her eyebrows, her costars swooning as the couple gazed at each other softly.

“Good save, good save.” JD teased as he and his team reached for another hot wing. The game continued for several more rounds, various questions, and, of course, lots of spicy wings, until they finally made it to the finale.

The table was moved out, their seats being arranged in a circle for a cutthroat game of musical chairs that would ultimately determine the winner of the game. Round after round, the numbers dwindled until one chair and two players remained: y/n and Drew.

“No mercy, y/n!” Madelyn shouted from the side as y/n and Drew rounded the chair slowly.

“C’mon Starkey boy!” Chase cheered. Y/n looked up for a moment, her eyes meeting with Drew’s as the music suddenly stopped. Before she knew it, Drew’s arms wrapped around her torso, lifting her off her feet with a shriek. He quickly sat down in the chair, pulling her down with him, and winning the game.

“Sorry baby,” Drew smirked, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek. Y/n groaned playfully, tossing her head back to rest on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them laughed in the chair.

“You’re lucky I love you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, kissing Drew’s jaw.

“Do you? Do you really?” Drew teased, nuzzling his nose into the crook of y/n’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter. In all her life, y/n would’ve never expected that she in all her competitive nature would be ok with losing a competition, but here she was, happy as ever.

[norrisainz33]

home for the holidays || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his partner start a new chapter now that the season is over and take their relationship to the next level

☆ pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope! just a short one bc i don’t see enough lance fics so wanted to write one!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, carmenmundt, yourbff, fernandoalo_official and 128,134 others

ynuser: and just like that - the 2024 season has come to an end. this was a tough one but no matter what i am proud of the team and proud of lance. see all you beautiful people again in march 🤍

view all 324 comments

astonmartinf1: see you soon y/n/n! we love you ❤️

ynuser: 🤍 you more admin

user1: you are so real for posting the vegas pics of lance

lance_stroll: i love you 😘

ynuser: and i love you 🥹

user4: mama y papa

user2: i’m going to miss this silly season and seeing you practically every weekend smh

francisca.cgomes: see you sooner than march please😭

ynuser: you know i can’t go more than a couple weeks without you 😔

user44: can lance fight?

scottyjames1: no

user44: SCREMING

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user1: most canadian thing i’ve ever seen

lance_stroll: missed this and missed you darling

ynuser: i missed you more lance. i’m overjoyed to be back 🤍

yourbff: i’m so glad you and lancey are finally home

ynuser: me too! this season was a long one 😩

yourbff: you both are stronger than i

ynuser: i’m not sure how we made it honestly! but it’s time for new beginnings and rest 🫶🏻

user2: time for some much deserved relaxation

user6: just saw the f1 secret santa and can’t stop thinking about how good of gift giver lance is and how he probably got you the best gifts ever

fernandoalo_official: happy holidays mi amiga

ynuser: gracias nando! i hope you have the best break with all of those you love most 🤍

user3: i hope you have the best break y/n

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

yourbff: i can’t wait to visit you in your new home!!!

ynuser: i can’t wait for you to visit!! one of the spare bedrooms has your name on it bestie

user11: ahhh congrats y/n!!!

carmenmundt: congrats on your and lances new home!! looking forward to visiting 😘

ynuser: thank you carmen! i miss you sm already. please come visit soon 🤍

user14: so so happy for you and lance. end game fr

lance_stroll: remind me why i thought moving right after the season ended was a good idea

ynuser: you said, and i quote, “i want to be home for the holidays and host all the people i love in our home.”

lance_stroll: well when you put it like that….

cholestroll: yayyayayay!!!!! can’t wait to see it in a few days

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and scotty and the lovely little bug soon. it’s been too long

astonmartinf1: cheers to new beginnings ✨

lance_stroll posted to his story

view all story replies

chloestroll: the tree is so cuteeeeee oh i love it

lance_stroll: it is ! y/n is very excited for the holidays

chloestroll: as she should be!! do you have everything set?

lance_stroll: everything should be set up according to plan! im beyond nervous though

chloestroll: don’t be!! it’s going to alllll be ok

user3: y/n is so cute

scottyjames31: glad she’s getting you into the holiday spirit

lance_stroll: between y/n and chloe there’s more than enough holiday spirit! we’ve got hanukah and christmas covered over here

user4: pookie christmas lets goooo

ynuser: i am having the most fun decorating our new house 🫶🏻

lance_stroll: me too my love. building this life with you is everything i could ask for and more ❤️

user5: i’m glad you’re getting the time to relax lancey. you deserve it after this season

lance_stroll has posted to his story

view all story replies

user2: holy crap this is beautiful?????? and she managed this right after you two moved in???? get this girl an award

fernandoalo_official: looks beautiful! can’t wait to hear about how your evening goes

lance_stroll: you’ll be one of the first to know ❤️

user6: this called me broke in about 800 different languages

pierregasly: WOW! can i hire y/n to decorate my house?

lance_stroll: for a hefty price 😉

user9: you better marry this girl i s2g

ynuser: thank you 🥹 🤍😘🎄

lance_stroll: no thank YOU gorgeous! i am so thankful to have you help me host the holidays ❤️

ynuser: 😭 i love being a part of your family lance

lance_stroll: we all love you so very much ❤️

ynuser: you’re going to make me cry 🥹

chloestroll: eeeeek!!!!!! today is THE day 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lance_stroll: she doesn’t suspect a thing 😍

user12: her outfit is everything ??? literal angel

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, iamrebeccad, fernandoalo_official, yourbff, scottyjames1, and 326,137 others

ynuser: tonight may have been the best night of my life. wishing you the happiest of holidays from the future mr and mrs stroll ❤️

view all 418 comments

user18: this is so important to me you have no idea

chloestroll: welcome to the family sis 😘

ynuser: sis 😭 oh i love you chloe

georgerussell63: 🥹 congrats! you two make the perfect couple

ynuser: thank you georgie ❤️

fernandoalo_official: felicidades mis amigos

ynuser: gracias por todo nando 🫶🏻

user32: my mom and dad are getting married im overjoyed

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to make you my wife

ynuser: and i can’t wait for you to be my husband 😘

user23: you look so good in white

astonmartinf1: best news we’ve seen all day

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[reiding-writing]

ok but the whole “on a case, reader fits the unsub’s type so the team wants her to go undercover pretending to be a couple with someone” type of scenario would be interesting with cold!reader bc the obvious choice for her “date” would be Spencer (cue Morgan’s teasing) and i imagine she wouldn’t be happy about any of it

SPIN THE WHEEL — SPENCER REID!

you and spencer have to go undercover as a couple for a case. chaos ensues.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 5.1k | ???? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

WARNINGS | fem!reader, knife violence, violence against women, reader is physically threatened but not hurt, reader and spencer are kinda awkward sometimes, morgan is a great wingman and an annoying friend

a/n — unfortunate spolier alert, there is no kiss in this fic, sorry 😔

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you stepped into the BAU briefing room. The heels of your boots clicked against the polished floor, a sharp counterpoint to the low hum of early-morning conversation. It was barely 7am, but the team was already gathered, their attention focused on the case files in front of them.

“Morning,” you said curtly, setting your travel mug on the edge of the conference table. Hotch acknowledged you with a nod, his expression as unreadable as ever. Morgan glanced up from his file and grinned.

“Look who decided to join us,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Thought you’d gone into hibernation now the sun’s out.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss your sparkling commentary,” you shot back, earning a quiet chuckle from JJ.

Hotch cleared his throat, and the room instantly quieted. “Let’s get started.”

He gestured to the board at the front of the room, where photos of four women were pinned in neat rows. Their faces, bright and smiling in life, were now haunting reminders of a killer’s pattern.

“Over the past two months,” Hotch began, “we’ve identified a series of abductions and murders targeting high-profile women in their late twenties to early thirties. Each victim was abducted from a public location—bars, restaurants, upscale events—and later found in secluded areas outside the city.”

JJ chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table. “They’re all single on paper, *but* they were last seen in public with male companions. Same dynamic in every sighting. The woman appears dominant, in control. The man, quiet and deferential. A classic ‘power couple,’ but with the woman holding the reins.”

Prentiss leaned forward. “So the unsub’s targeting these women because of their perceived control in the relationship?”

“Presumably one he wants for himself,” Hotch confirmed. “Each victim was restrained, but there’s evidence they were given specific instructions during captivity—what to wear, how to speak. The dominant dynamic appears to be a key element of their fantasy.”

You flipped open your case file, skimming the notes Garcia had compiled. Confident, independent women. Late twenties. Seen with male partners. A pattern was beginning to form alright.

Morgan spoke up. “So, the unsub is looking for a specific type of woman. Someone who exudes authority, but…”

“But is in a relationship dynamic that contradicts societal expectations,” Reid finished. “A dominant woman with a submissive male partner. It’s uncommon enough to draw attention, which might be part of the appeal for the unsub.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a control freak with a very specific fantasy.”

“Precisely,” Hotch said. “Which is why we’ll need to act quickly. The unsub has been escalating—shortening the time between abductions. Based on their pattern, we believe they’ll strike again within the next 48 hours.”

“Any leads?” you asked, your voice sharp with focus.

Garcia’s cheerful voice practically burst through the door. “Good morning, my lovely profilers! As much as I’d love to say I’ve cracked this case wide open, we’re still working on a list of potential suspects. But I do have some good news—There’s a community gala happening, super high-profile. It’s upscale, trendy, and crawling with exactly the kind of power couples they’re looking for.”

Hotch nodded. “That’s where we’ll set up our operation.”

The tension in the room thickened. You could feel it before Hotch even said the words.

“We’ll need someone to go undercover,” he continued. “Someone who fits the unsub’s preferred victim profile. Confident. Independent.”

All eyes turned to you.

You froze, a sip of coffee halfway to your lips. “You can’t be serious,” you said, though the tone of your voice made it clear you already knew he was. “Can’t Prentiss do it?”

“You’re the best match,” Hotch said simply. “Your appearance and demeanor align with what the unsub is looking for.”

Morgan’s grin widened, sensing an opportunity to stir the pot. “And since it’s a couple we’re talking about…” He let the sentence dangle, his gaze flicking around the room. “Looks like we need to find you a boy toy.”

JJ smirked. “Any volunteers?”

Morgan pretended to study the room, tapping his chin theatrically. “Hmm, let’s see. Rossi’s too old. I’m way too good-looking. And Hotch… well, I don’t think he’d appreciate being dragged to a bar on his off-hours.”

“Get to the point, Morgan,” you snapped.

His eyes landed on Reid, who was sitting awkwardly at the edge of the table, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“Oh, come on,” Morgan said, his voice full of mock conviction. “The answer is obvious. Dr. Reid is the perfect choice. Smart, polite, and devoted to his boss lady. What more could you ask for?”

Reid blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me?” he stammered. “I—uh—I don’t think—”

“You’ll be fine,” Morgan interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just follow her lead. She’s already bossy enough for the both of you anyway, no acting needed,”

You glared at Morgan. “I’d rather go alone.”

“Not an option,” Hotch said firmly. “The unsub is looking for couples. If you go in alone, you’ll stand out for the wrong reasons,”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. “And why Reid? No offense, but he’s not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?” Reid asked, his tone defensive.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s not exactly the type you’d expect in this kind of role.”

“That’s what makes him perfect,” JJ pointed out. “The unsub isn’t looking for traditional dynamics. A strong, dominant woman with a partner who defies stereotypes fits the victim profile,”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but to your surprise, he straightened and spoke with quiet resolve. “If it helps catch the unsub, I’m willing to do it.”

“See? Loyal man already stepping up,” Morgan said with a laugh.

You shot him a withering look before turning to Hotch. “Fine,” you said, your voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But if this backfires—”

“It won’t,” Hotch interrupted. “You’ll have full backup, and the team will be monitoring every step of the operation.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. “This is gonna be good,”

You sighed, already regretting the decision. Spencer, for his part, looked as nervous as you felt, but there was a determination in his eyes that you hadn’t expected.

“Great,” Garcia chirped. “I’ll send over everything you need for your cover story. And don’t worry—I’ll make sure you two are the most convincing power couple that bar has ever seen.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stave off the headache already forming. This was going to be a long 48 hours.

—

“You’re really going to have to sell this,” JJ said, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she watched you and Spencer stand awkwardly in the aisle of the jet.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “I know how undercover work works, JJ.”

“Sure, but this isn’t just undercover work. This is undercover work as a couple,” Morgan chimed in from the corner, barely hiding his grin.

Spencer cleared his throat, the faint blush on his cheeks deepening. “We should probably practice,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “The unsub will be looking for natural interactions—gestures, body language, subtle communication cues. If we’re stiff or hesitant, it’ll be obvious,”

Morgan barked out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, kid. It’s already obvious,”

You shot Morgan a glare that would’ve made a lesser man wilt. He just grinned wider. “Fine,” you said brusquely. “Let’s get this over with.”

Spencer nodded, stepping closer to you. His movements were hesitant, almost shy, and it took every ounce of patience you had not to roll your eyes. He hesitated before holding out his hand.

“Let’s start with this,” he suggested.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a beat too long before sliding your palm into his. His hand was warm and slightly clammy, but his grip was firm, maybe a little *too* firm if the way your knuckles were awkwardly pressed together had anything to say about it.

“Relax,” you muttered, glancing up at him. “You’re supposed to be my date, not someone who’s never felt human interaction before.”

His lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile. “Right. Relaxed. Got it,”

You worked through the basics: standing close together, holding hands naturally, leaning into each other like a couple sharing a private moment. Spencer was diligent, taking mental notes and adjusting his movements based on your corrections.

Despite his effort, the awkwardness between you two was palpable, made worse by the occasional muffled laughter from Morgan and JJ.

When it came time to practice small touches—a hand on the small of your back, a brush of fingers against your arm—you could feel the tension radiating off him. He was careful, almost too careful, as though afraid you might snap at him.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said, your tone sharper than intended.

He blinked, his hand hovering inches from your arm. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not. Just… stop being so stiff about it. This isn’t life or death.”

“Actually, it kind of is,” he murmured, his lips quirking in a faint smile.

To your surprise, you felt the corner of your own mouth twitch upward. You quickly smothered it, stepping back and crossing your arms. “Good enough for now. Let’s move on to the backstory.”

—

The gala was in full swing by the time you and Spencer arrived, stepping into the grand ballroom of the city’s most exclusive hotel. The chandeliers glittered overhead, casting warm light over the crowd of elegantly dressed attendees.

You smoothed down the front of your sleek black gown, the fitted fabric hugging your frame in all the right places. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Spencer adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. He looked… good. The cut of the suit flattered his lean frame, and the crisp white shirt brought out the warm tones in his skin.

He caught you looking and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing away.

You looped your arm through his and guided him toward the bar. As you moved through the crowd, you felt the weight of eyes on you—not just from potential suspects, but from the other guests as well.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” you murmured as Spencer ordered a glass of wine.

“I don’t,” he said, giving you a small smile. “But it would look suspicious if I didn’t have something in my hand.”

You hated to admit it, but he was right. He was thinking like a profiler, analysing every detail to make your cover as convincing as possible.

Morgan’s voice crackled in your earpiece. “Damn, Pretty Boy cleans up nice. And look at you, boss lady. You two are turning heads out there,”

“Focus, Morgan,” you muttered under your breath.

JJ’s voice chimed in next, a hint of amusement in her tone. “He’s not wrong. You two look good together.”

You ignored them, instead focusing on the task at hand. Spencer leaned in slightly, his body angled toward yours in a way that felt natural, almost intimate.

“Do you see anyone who fits the profile?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your ear.

“Not yet,” you replied, scanning the room. Your gaze lingered on a man at the far end of the bar, his eyes locked on you with a little too much interest. You straightened slightly, letting your body language shift just enough to signal dominance.

Spencer noticed the change immediately. Without missing a beat, he placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, his fingers light but steady. The touch was subtle, protective, and entirely convincing.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the ease of the gesture. His face was calm, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that reminded you just how capable he was.

Morgan’s voice crackled through again. “Wow, look at Romeo and Ice Queen over here. You two might actually pull this off.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your voice.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself noticing things about Spencer you hadn’t before. The way he adjusted his movements to match yours, the subtle way he deflected unwanted attention, the quiet confidence in his voice when he introduced himself to other guests. He wasn’t just playing his role; he was living it.

And Spencer? Well he thought you were beautiful. You were always beautiful, but being this close to you, it was almost enough to feel like he was being set on fire.

“Someone’s watching us,” Spencer murmured, his lips barely moving.

“Where?”

“Two o’clock. Dark suit, red tie.”

You glanced in the direction he indicated, keeping your movements casual. The man from the bar was still watching, his gaze sharp and calculating.

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing your temple in a gesture that looked affectionate but was purely strategic. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Maybe,” you said, your voice low. “Let’s see if he takes the bait.”

Spencer nodded, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. There was no room for distractions, no matter how unexpected they might be.

You sipped your drink, letting the act settle over you like a second skin. The confident CEO with her doting partner. The perfect bait.

“You’re doing well,” Spencer murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m aware,” you replied dryly, earning a quiet huff of laughter from him.

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re commanding the room without overdoing it. Subtle but effective.”

You glanced at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. “You’ve been taking notes.”

“Of course. It’s what I do,” He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that reached his eyes.

Something about the way he said it caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the quiet confidence in his voice, or the way he seemed so at ease despite the tension crackling in the air.

A server passed by, offering a tray of appetisers. Spencer reached out, grabbing one before turning to you.

“They have the scallop canapés you liked at Rossi’s,” he said casually, holding it out to you.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard again. You’d barely mentioned your preference for seafood during one of Garcia’s long-winded stories about fancy catering. It was a throwaway comment, something you didn’t think anyone had noticed.

He shrugged, his expression impossibly soft. “You said you liked them. Thought it might help you relax.”

The gesture was so small, so thoughtful, that it left you momentarily speechless. Spencer wasn’t just going through the motions; he was paying attention, learning your rhythms and quirks without ever prying.

“Thanks,” you said finally, your voice quieter than usual. You took the canapé, your fingers brushing his.

His gaze lingered on yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for the first time, you found yourself looking away first.

“Stupid eidetic memory,”

—

The man in the red tie made his move a half-hour later.

You and Spencer had positioned yourselves near the bar, your conversation laced with just enough tension to draw attention. Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady as he spoke.

“Are you sure this is the right approach?”

“It’s fine,” you said sharply, letting your tone carry just enough edge to sell the act.

“You don’t have to handle everything alone,” he pressed, his brow furrowing in genuine concern that blended seamlessly into the performance.

“I said it’s fine.” you snapped, crossing your arms.

The man approached before Spencer could respond, his smile polite but laced with something colder. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice smooth. “Is everything all right here?”

You turned to him, plastering on a forced smile. “Everything’s fine. My partner is just… overstepping a bit.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and he stepped back slightly, giving the other man an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to upset her. She just works so hard—it’s difficult not to worry.”

The man’s eyes flicked between you and Spencer, assessing. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he cataloged your body language and tone.

You gave him a weary smile, letting the cracks in your façade show just enough. “Comes with the territory. My job isn’t exactly forgiving.”

“And what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I run a consulting firm,” you said smoothly. “Corporate strategy and restructuring.”

“A powerful position,” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “I imagine it must be stressful, balancing work and… home life.”

You shrugged, casting a glance at Spencer. “It has its moments.”

Spencer stepped in, his role as the supportive but slightly sidelined husband playing out perfectly. “She does an incredible job. I just try to stay out of her way,”

There was something in his voice—an undercurrent of pride and affection that made the words feel painfully real. For a moment, you wondered if the man in the red tie wasn’t the only one Spencer was trying to convince.

The man chuckled, a cold, calculated sound. “It’s rare to see someone so dedicated to their partner’s success.”

Spencer nodded, offering a tight smile. “She deserves it. But, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll grab some air. Long nights like this aren’t really my scene.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “You’ll be alright for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice clipped.

Spencer gave you a lingering look before turning and walking away, his retreat deliberate and measured. You could feel the man’s eyes on you the moment Spencer disappeared into the crowd.

“He seems… sensitive,” the man remarked, his tone careful.

You gave a soft laugh, sipping your drink. “He means well. But sometimes I wish he’d let me handle things without hovering.”

The man’s smile widened, the glint in his eyes unmistakable now. You’d hooked him.

“It’s difficult for some people to understand power dynamics,” he said. “Especially when the woman is in charge.”

You tilted your head, feigning curiosity. “You seem like someone who understands.”

“Oh, I do,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “There’s a balance to everything. Some people thrive in positions of power. Others…” His gaze flicked to where Spencer had disappeared. “…are more suited to supporting roles.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your expression neutral. The trap was set, and now it was just a matter of waiting for him to take the bait.

“Sometimes,” you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, “I think he resents me for it. He’d never say it, of course, but… you know how men can be.”

The man’s smile turned predatory. “I know exactly what you mean.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer reenter the room, his posture tense but controlled. He caught your eye, giving you the faintest of nods.

Game on.

The man leaned in closer, the sharp scent of his cologne curling in your nose. You tilted your head, giving him a coy smile as he spoke, his voice low and smooth.

“Men like him don’t understand what it means to truly have power,” he said, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

You forced yourself not to recoil, leaning into the act. “Sometimes, I think you’re right,” you murmured. “It’s hard to find someone who really… gets it.”

His eyes gleamed, and for a brief moment, you saw the darkness that lurked behind his charming façade. He believed he had you hooked, believed he was in control.

You felt the comm in your ear buzz faintly. “All eyes on Ice Queen,” Morgan’s voice came through, sharp and focused. “Unsub is making his move. Keep it steady.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you kept your expression relaxed, offering the man a small, inviting smile.

“You should come with me,” he said, his hand sliding to the small of your back. “Somewhere quieter. I’d like to hear more about your perspective.”

You hesitated, feigning reluctance. “I don’t know… I don’t want to leave him for too long.”

He chuckled, a low, predatory sound. “He’ll be fine. You deserve some time for yourself, don’t you?”

Spencer’s voice crackled through the comm, tight with tension. “Don’t let him separate her too far from the crowd.”

You met the man’s gaze, pretending to consider his offer. Finally, you nodded. “Just for a minute.”

He smiled, guiding you toward a hallway leading to a quieter area of the venue. Your stomach tightened, every step pulling you further from the team’s line of sight.

Once you were out of earshot of the crowd, the man’s demeanor shifted. His grip on your arm tightened, and his tone grew colder. “You really are impressive,” he said. “So confident. So controlled. It’s almost a shame.”

You let out a laugh, glancing around for an opening. “A shame?”

“That someone like you can’t appreciate what it means to truly submit.”

Your comm buzzed again. “We’re moving in,” Hotch’s calm voice said.

The man’s hand drifted to your waist, and that was all you needed.

“You’re under arrest,” you said sharply, yanking free of his grip and stepping back. You reached for the small earpiece hidden under your hair. “Target is isolated. Move in.”

The man’s eyes widened, and his mask of charm shattered. His hand shot toward you, his fingers curling around your wrist with bruising force.

Before you could react, Spencer’s voice cut through the tense air like a knife.

“Let her go!”

He stormed into the hallway, his face taut with barely contained anger. His usual awkward demeanor was gone, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that caught even you off guard.

The unsub tightened his grip, dragging you closer as he pulled a knife from his jacket. “Stay back!” he snarled.

Spencer didn’t flinch. His hands were raised in a calming gesture, but his eyes burned with determination. “You don’t want to do this. Let her go, and we can talk.”

Your pulse raced as you struggled against the unsub’s grip, a knife to your throat would do that to most people you supposed. You could see the rest of the team moving into position at the far end of the hallway, but Spencer was the only one close enough to take action.

“Reid.” you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline racing through your veins. “Don’t blow this.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I’m not— I—”

There’s a moment where you feel the unsub’s arm relax, just that tiny bit where his confidence had gotten the better of him, and you take that moment like it’s the only chance you’ve got.

You slam the back of your head into the unsub’s jaw, hand darting up to grab the his wrist so you didn’t recoil into the blade. The knife clattered to the floor as he retreated in pain, and you go from being held hostage to pinning his chest against the marble floor.

The unsub froze, his face panicked as the team closed in. Within seconds, he was cuffed and hauled to his feet, Morgan giving him a hard shove toward the exit.

You leaned against the wall, catching your breath as Spencer hovered nearby.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent.

You nodded, your gaze flicking to him. His face was pale, his eyes filled with worry. “I’m fine, Reid.”

He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve been closer. I should’ve—”

“Spencer,” you interrupted, your tone firm. “You did exactly what you needed to. I’m fine.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, stepping back to give you space.

Back at the surveillance van, the tension dissolved into a mix of relief and exhaustion. Morgan leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Well, I’ve gotta hand it to you two,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “You played the part perfectly. I mean, the chemistry? Oscar worthy.”

You shot him a glare, but he just laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Seriously, though,” he continued, glancing between you and Spencer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were actually getting it on.”

Spencer’s ears turned pink, and you rolled your eyes. “Let it go, Morgan.”

“Never,” he said, smirking.

As the team packed up their gear, you caught Spencer’s eye. For a moment, neither of you said anything, but the unspoken gratitude between you was clear.

And maybe a hint of something else.

—

The jet ride home was unusually quiet. The adrenaline from the mission had finally worn off, leaving everyone drained but relieved. You kept mostly to yourself, as usual, watching the clouds pass by through the window. Occasionally, you caught Spencer glancing in your direction, though he didn’t say anything.

When you finally returned to the BAU, the rest of the team trickled out, eager to head home. You lingered in the bullpen, reviewing paperwork under the dim glow of your desk lamp. The steady rhythm of typing was almost comforting until you sensed someone hovering nearby.

Looking up, you saw Spencer standing a few feet away, fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, hesitating before speaking.

“I just wanted to check in,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “About earlier. During the mission.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “What about it?”

He shifted on his feet, clearly nervous. “I just… I hope I didn’t overstep. With the unsub, and… you know, everything after.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was worried I might’ve made things harder for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, you considered brushing him off, deflecting like you always did. But you couldn’t do that to him, not tonight.

“You didn’t overstep,” you said, the words slower, more deliberate than you intended. You hesitated, the admission foreign and uncomfortable on your tongue. “You handled yourself well. Better than I expected.”

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the flicker of surprise in his expression. “Really?”

You gave a small nod, your arms still crossed as a defence mechanism against the vulnerability creeping in. “You stayed calm under pressure. You didn’t panic, and you were quick on your feet. Not everyone can do that.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that wasn’t quite sure if it was allowed. “Thanks. That… means a lot, coming from you.”

You glanced away, feeling the weight of his gratitude settling uncomfortably on your chest. “Don’t let it go to your head, Reid,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking its usual bite.

But before he could respond, Morgan strolled into the bullpen, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. He glanced between the two of you, one eyebrow quirking as if he’d stumbled upon something far more interesting than a late-night check-in.

“Well, well,” Morgan drawled, leaning against your desk. “What do we have here? Romeo and Ice Queen, burning the midnight oil together?”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, you didn’t fire back immediately. Instead, you glanced at Spencer, whose ears were turning an impressive shade of pink.

Morgan’s smirk widened. “Aw, come on, don’t let me stop you. You two clearly have some very important business to discuss.”

Spencer opened his mouth, likely to stammer out a denial, but you beat him to it.

“Goodnight, Morgan,” you said pointedly, your tone cool but lacking its usual edge.

Morgan chuckled, backing away with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Goodnight, lovebirds,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

When you turned back to Spencer, he looked flustered but oddly pleased, his bag clutched tightly to his chest.

You lingered for a moment longer than necessary, your gaze meeting his. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

“See you tomorrow,” he echoed, his voice carrying a note of warmth you hadn’t noticed before.

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, and for the first time, you didn’t mind.

[oraltraditionfiction]

We listen and we don’t judge | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (fluff)

Summary: You and Quinn do the We Listen and We Don't Judge challenge.

WC: 453

Author's Note: Tbh we're not really on tiktok, but we thought this was a cute idea!! This is my first ever fic/blurb/piece of fanfiction so I would love to hear any feedback :-) Enjoy! - 🐇

You set the camera up on the kitchen counter, swiping under your eyes before backing up to Quinn. 

“Ok! Are we ready?” You say, clapping your hands together. Quinn nods, arms slung around you and an indulgent smile on his face. 

“This is the weird habits thing from TikTok, right?”

You nod, laughing, as you lean forward and press play.

“We listen and we don’t judge!” You say as you spread your hands theatrically, Quinn only jumping in halfway through the sentence.

You side eye the man next to you, leaning in close to the camera, “Sometimes,” a conspiratorial whisper, “I cheer for the Bruins when you aren’t home.”

Quinn drops his arms from around you, and turns towards you wide eyed, “Babe, that’s practically treason… they’ll kill you…” you laugh and shove him lightly, a finger in front of your mouth to mime secrecy. 

“Ok your turn!” you push him forward.

“We listen and we don’t judge!” said together.

He chuckles, rubbing his neck, “Sometimes I use your face towel as a hand towel” You whirl towards him in shock, hitting his arm with the back of your hand. 

“Quinn! I have acne because of you!” He dodges your playful hits, laughing at your mock outraged face.

Through giggles you spit out, “Sometimes I dog-ear our book pages because you lost all of our cute bookmarks.” 

“Oh my god, babe, find a receipt or some shit. They don’t have to be cute” Quinn puts his head in his hands, heaving out a dramatic sigh. You laugh, tugging his hands away from his face as he thinks of his next one.

“One time I put your favorite bra in the dryer and it got ruined and instead of telling you I just bought a new one” 

You gasp, actually floored. “You told me that I had probably just missed that tag! I can’t believe you!” 

Faking indignation you turn away from him and say, “Sometimes I don’t wash our fruit before we eat it” 

“You’re going to actually give us brain worms. Oh my god, babe… we could have brain worms right now.” He says hand over his mouth, your laughter ringing out across the kitchen. 

Quinn wraps his arms around you, holding you close, “Sometimes when you aren’t here, I don’t use coasters.” You gasp, turning in his hold. He laughs as you begin gesticulating wildly, 

“Quinn, that is so bad for the wood!” You begin lecturing him, saying that his apartment is much too nice for moisture rings to be on his nice wooden coffee table. He buries his face in your neck, smothering his laughter so he can listen attentively to your voice.

[pushingdaisies1]

ok so i'm new to your blog so i'm not 100% sure how you usually do requests but I would kill for a fic where the reader gets an injury (not life threatening) patched up by another character. Dae-ho came to my mind first tbh but you could literally do whoever. i'm not sure if you do multiple characters in one post or not so take this request however you like!

"Dont look at me with those eyes" . . . ♡

. ⟣ㅤㅤ˳ㅤㅤ︵︵ㅤ ୨ ୧ ㅤ︵︵ㅤㅤˑㅤㅤ⟢ ,

-> PAIRING: Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388) x Reader! -> SUMMARY: Falling into these games was like a hard-hitting reminder of your status on the food chain. Always the one to sell yourself out and break yourself completely to help loved ones make it up to the top. You were the lowest of the low, a runt. A runt with a big and burning heart. But meeting Dae-ho was like a soft blanket being wrapped around you. In your first interaction alone, even though you were playing with your lives, he was like a beacon of strangely placed hope. Soon becoming acquainted with the "quickly assembled" team Mr. Player 456 (Seong Gihun) had formed, you had found quick allies with the group of men and Jun-hee. After the third game, you had taken a pretty bad blow to your leg from another scattering player. Dae-ho notices, and knows that he can't let a partner limp back without lending a helping hand. That made you like him so much, he was a helpful, hopeful fool. It made your teeth grind against other teeth as you watched him care for you so carefully. You were almost like glass in his hands. -> WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence (mingle was brutal), Not entirely proof read.., Descriptions and talks of injured/dislocated ankle, I use y/n like once LOL, I kinda fudged the "rules" of the second game don't mind that heh, I don't know how to treat wounds so it WILL be incorrect!, angst(?), Dae-ho being a cutie patootie!! -> AUTHORS NOTE: Aghhh first ever request, I love this idea, and tysm for sending one in! Dae-ho became a quick favorite of mine, especially after the fourth episode. He's so sweet and the most gentle character in the show. I love his vulnerability and warmth as an ex-marine and clear victim of toxic masculinity in his life. He's genuinely a top favorite of mine. I do apologize if this is a tad bit too long for anybody's tastes. I had a lot of fun with this request as you can see heh. I'll be using him (Dae-ho) for this one, but yes for reference next time ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗I don't mind doing multiple characters in one request <3!! Don’t be afraid to send in other characters , enjoy.. ^_^

. ─── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─── ' . The fact that you had survived past the first and second games was shocking. You hadn't expected to see players littered down with bullets when playing a game calling back to your younger days. One by one it was like watching chickens be plucked from the coop. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you tried your hardest to stay as still as possible. Thank the heavens you didn't end up in front of the so-called "rap legend" who was pushing people left and right. In your held-back panic, you had found a point of focus. A specific player amongst the herd had more so shouted for people to stand behind others taller than them.

Stay crouched down behind the back of another and the doll shouldn't recognise your movement. As hurried steps padded against the sandy ground, you found yourself lined up behind a taller man. His hair was pulled up halfway, with a tiny ponytail atop his head. If you weren't in a life-or-death scenario you would've had a nice quick chuckle about it. His stature was easy to hide behind in the hurried chaos. As others were being shot down among the organized crowd, your feet had almost lost footing. Your stance had faltered after someone directly behind you had gotten shot by one of the sniper perks. You felt your legs begin to tremble as your back was littered with the victim's blood.

You were so close to ruining this somewhat assorted line when you felt a hand clasp your wrist. Shockingly you didn't jerk out of line, it was in actuality a steadying grip. In quick succession, he'd murmur to you, a stranger behind him. "I got you, just keep l-looking ahead." Even though his voice was trembling he still sounded like a courageous hero to you. So quickly you were able to steady your legs, and before you could hesitate anymore it was time to move. Reaching across the finish line was like a breath of fresh air. Pretty much getting all the air knocked back into your lungs. You couldn't have fallen harder against the ground after you had thrown yourself over. Locking eyes with the young man that was standing beside you. He was almost cracking a carefree smile as he soon realized that he'd too made it out alive.

Seeing you on the ground he immediately offered you a hand. If this was all in a different context, you would've been feeling more butterflies in your chest than you already had. But you had almost died just a couple seconds ago. You were grateful for his steady hands, so you hopped at the opportunity to have him pull you up on your feet.

In hindsight, you probably looked like a nut job as specks of sand littered the jacket you and every other player adorned. His grip was firm as he excitedly shook your hand. "You were a tough one out there! I'm glad to see you make it." He said with a beaming smile. The announcements drowned out your thoughts as players' numbers were being called out with their eliminations.

Your eyes were a lot more shaky as you nodded your head in response and recognition. "It's in all thanks to you. You practically saved my life. I am forever in your debt.." Words trailing off as you didn't know his name, at all. He probably had the name of an action hero or a true trailblazer. Was luck finally on your side? Did you make a friend in this horrifying ordeal?

Everything was buzzing all around between the two of you. The doll Young-hee repeats the same two phrases over and over again. As your surroundings became pure noise, you found comfort in focusing on his face and its features. His grip on your hand with firm, giving you one final good squeeze as your hands fell to your own respective sides. "Kang, Kang Dae-ho." He had this almost palpable warmth. It made you feel all mushy on the inside for unknown reasons. You'd let out a sigh of almost relief as your lip quivered. "Thank you for saving my life, Kang Dae-ho." Your eyes grew glazed over with unshed tears. No regular person has ever been this close to death. A completely and utterly helpful stranger just saved you. Your chest was pounding with emotion but there was no time for that. The timer was quicking ticking down and both of your attentions were collectively drawn to the scene in front of you.

The "freeze" man from before and a woman both tried to carry over an injured player. The triumphant moment was killed as people erupted into cheers, and the injured soul was shot for the final time in the head. The first game came and went. The prize money was introduced and soon the stakes were raised. Voting amongst the players was almost coming too close to starting a fight. Some people wanted to leave off the bat.

After witnessing the carnage and violence being displayed in only the first game out of six. So many lives were lost, and the prize money shined like a golden nugget. It was like the largest golden ticket out of tremendous piles of debt. Which you were suffering with.

So even with protests and bated breaths, your fist firmly pressed down onto the 'O' button. You wore it like a badge of shame on your chest. A reminder of your shameless greed, judgemental stares burned into the back of your head. When people dispersed and went to different areas around the room, you were somber. You felt shameful as you contemplated your decision.

It was so close to a tie. Your vote could've done so much. But your debt wouldn't have been fixed. You would still have creditors hounding after you for your money. You were screwed either way. The jacket was large enough for you to be able to burry yourself inside of it , in both shame and fatigue.

You were shocked that they were handing out containers of food. With how sightly sickening the first game was. But ya' know, have to keep the prized pigs well-fed to continue on. You slunk back as you immediately dug into the food you were given. You weren't focusing on taste or texture. It tasted like home, so you didn't hesitate to scarf it down in quick succession. Your eyes looked in front of you, examining the walls and the layers of beds. Players either sat by themselves eating what they had , or were already starting to make connections with other poor unfortunate souls. Something caught your eye as you were people-watching. A group of game participants, who had voted the same as you did were walking over to the previous player. You could remember the desperation that clung to his voice. Especially when other players were brushing off his words during the voting. You saw that same familiar face who also risked his life to save yours. It was the most commotion in the room. Leaving your tin and your half-drunken water bottle on your mattress, you scooted off and gently found your footing. You placed one shoe in front of the other as you watched players dispersing away, the sounds coming from them not pleasant ones. What could've been said to make that many people storm off with such unpleasant looks on their faces?

You approached the men with skittish hands and determination in your mind. Alliances and teaming up with players may be the utmost needed in these games. Making friendly with someone whos played these children's games before could give you and others the boost needed to survive. Player 390 sounded determined as well. Especially talking up his friend as a previous player. Or... were they friends? The man just seemed like a friendly soul.

As Dae-ho was addressing the men with profound respect and camaraderie, you sort of appeared beside him. "I'm sorry to interrupt but..." Dae-hos eyes expanded when seeing you, his hand meeting your back in a rather firm pat. "Ah! , Have you come to join our team as well?" Your cheeks grew warm as suddenly you were on the spot. But admittedly that was your fault. "I-I- I heard the commotion over here, are you looking for one more person?" Your voice was small and meek. '456' looked at you, his eyes cold with glimpses of warmth in those pupils. To the looks of it, it appeared like he was trying to give you room to speak. "No matter the game, having allies is always good to have. You seem like a group of good men... I don't want to die so soon. Please, your consideration would mean the most."

'001' cracked a small smile. "I don't have a problem with it." His voice was smooth ... almost hollow. You didn't focus on demeanor, only happy to see such graciousness. '456' bit back a sigh, his face a little less solemn after watching the scene in front of him between Dae-ho and player '390.' Both their sleeve rolled up, showing off their similar Marine tattoos. Before he could get a word in, you spoke up once again. "I voted to continue on because of you. You surely have enough wisdom to carry the players participating. My vote wasn't one out of malice. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place-" He put a hand out to stop you from talking anymore. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I have no problem with you joining us, you seem to be a good kid." You took his words and ran with it. Dae-ho couldn't help but chime in. "I ran into them in the first game! They are as courageous as an ex-marine like myself." Your eyes expanded in utter confusion, no? "I'm flattered but-" '390' cut you off with a broad smile. "It's settled then, we are a full team! It is nice to meet you." The conversation was pulled away once so quickly a fight broke out. Player '001' stepped in to stop the fight once player 390 and Dae-ho stood back. You felt even safer grouping up with the four as you watched the older man quiet up the so-called 'Thanos' and his friend. Maybe you would leave the next game with your head still on your shoulders. In the dead of night, Dae-ho made sure to remind you about what the next game most likely would be. You tried to be the most quiet you could be as you made your way out of your bunk.

Why was he being so nice to you? You didn't expect to find somebody with such a welcoming atmosphere in the surroundings you were.. momentarily stuck in until the next vote. Sleep came and went, the first game haunting your mind. You may have been only able to get one to two hours of sleep at most. Trying to be as positive as you could be for this new day. Dalgona shouldn't be so bad.

When the second game was officially revealed your mind took a sharp turn to "I'm screwed." But still, your team stuck together. It couldn't be Dalgona if they were having players pair together in teams. Still though, with a previous player in the team mix, everything should go off smoothly.

Since he has seen this all before one way or another. The trust was already palpable amongst each other, you make this game your bitch. Player '222' was a happily added addition. You couldn't help but immediately clamor at having her join. The clock was already down to one minute. There was little time to spare to find one more person to finish up your group. She looked to be very capable, and it was immoral to leave a pregnant woman with no team. Soon the game was explained, as well as the inclusion of minigames in between.

You were one of the last teams. So you all took the time to watch every person's strategies and techniques. Especially the teams who actually.. made it out alive.

Victory at all costs! , player '390' had you all say as you joined hands atop of one another. Finally, you were brought up to have your ankles latched together. Since you were one of the last teams competing, there was no audience. But fewer distractions meant more focus for minigames that needed ample attention. Right beside player '222' you made sure to help her when she was losing her footing. Her eyes always glanced back to you when along with the others you'd ask if she was okay. Especially having a mighty hand at ddakji! With barely any time your team made it out alive. Once again the moment was killed by the sound of gunfire. Watching as the guards lay bullets into the team you were expecting to see finish alongside. You all were just glad you made it out alive. Coming back into the main room, the energy in the room was bubbling for conflict. You and your fellow teammates fell back to the side, introducing yourselves and getting closer to one another. When the vote was incoming you knew you weren't going to pick the option you had picked yesterday. But, if you were stuck playing one more game with these people, you felt your odds were better than before. As the masked guards came in to congratulate the players on the game, voting started up soon after. The piggy bank was a still painful reminder of what was at stake. All the money that equaled people's lives. Something in your gut was telling you that the vote wasn't going to end in your group's favor. But still, you walked up to the box, your hand pressing firmly on the 'X' button. Your hand quickly yanked off the patch on your chest to trade it out. You felt like some of the guilt lifted off your shoulders. The money was at least enough to pay off a good chunk of your debts. Getting out of here would mean you could find a way to spend your money smarter while your heart was still beating.

Filling into the 'X' side of the room, you saw that the 'O' vote count only went up and up. It made you feel almost queasy seeing the blue side of the room get larger and larger.

You stood right beside Dae-ho as your hands lingered towards his. His pinkie wrapped gently around yours, almost like a comforting gesture.

Maybe it was out of pity you had no clue on your mind. The bunched-up group waited with bated breath to see if maybe the vote would change in favor. Your face showed your shock and hurt, similar to the others on your side. One more game meant more bodies to be left astray. The air was palpable with hurt as the guards pulled back, announcing that a third game would be happening soon. Even though Jung-bae was a part of the major vote, you all still tried to stay positive. Especially on Young-Ils intervention as Gi-hun lamented about the ferociousness of the potential third game. Lights out soon came, the piggy bank in the middle giving the dark and depressing room a warm glow.

Your team had made a fort amongst the empty beds of the fallen players. You found some sort of peace as you and Dae-oh slept side by side in that compact space under the bed. Having a warm body next to you was nice in these trying times.

Morning came quicker than you had expected. Young-Il was already awake as you all arose from sleep. Like clockwork, the guards came in and escorted all the players to the next game. Some were more excited than others, you were currently just trying to keep your head steady. The pleasant conversation was killed once you all got higher up the long and winding staircases. After taking all that time you were finally brought to the third game. The doors in front of you opened as the guards filled out into the room. This new room was large and almost too grand. Its walls were a warm pale yellow with grand designs. You had all pretty much walked inside a large music box. In the middle of there stood tall a carousel. The PA system introduced the game, Mingle. Jung-bae had familiarity with the game, describing it as a game to pass the time on school trips. The team began to talk about potential strategy and game specifics. "What if it is smaller than five? Like three ... or four?" Dae-ho croaked out in response. You'd turn to him with a focused look in your eye. "We should be able to split off evenly if it's three." Everyone in recognition as Young-Il spoke up. "No matter what happens don't panic. Let's stay calm." "We'll all make it out together, here." On queue, his hand fell out in front of everyone huddled up. One by one all your hands fell atop of each other. The last one to finish up this was Gi-hun, and soon came the "One - Two - Three."

Quickly everyone was ushered onto the platform, and then the game would officially begin. The lights in the room would become harsher and more dramatic as the music started up, and soon would the spinning platform. As the PA system explained beforehand, numbers started to be called out. Ten was easy as you and another familiar group consisting of the older woman, her son, and the two other girls rushed into a room. Relief took over your bones and your bunch had made it in a room just in time. Horrified screams and shouts for mercy could be heard just outside the door. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest cavity as the locks rhythmically unlocked. Soon all players were now back atop the platform. The slow spinning motion of the large circle was almost sickening; when your eyes focused on the littered blood. But feeling Dae-hos hand firmly hold your shoulder, you snapped back into reality. The whirring motions abruptly stopped, causing you to barely lose your balance. The familiar monotone female voice of the PA system clicked to life, "Four." Immediately the lights started to flash, and your head jerked around to look at your other teammates. Counting heads, you all wouldn't have fit into one room of course. Without getting gunned down by the eventual guards. Gi-hun tried to say something but Young-Il already was grabbing your hand, shouting for two more people. Jung-bae already took the initiative as he pulled Jun-hee and guided the others into a vacant room. A scuffle happened amid the panicking players. You and Young-il had found two other players able to fill the room. But another man tried to push in, inevitably shoving you out of the room. Young-il looked like he was able to do something but in the scuffle, your leg met the man's chest. It was a swift kick with a pop ringing in your ears. With seconds to spare, Young-Il dragged you into the room and slammed the door shut. His eyes looked to you showing some semblance of pity. Even with the mortified voices outside and gun fodder, he looked towards you. "Are you alright?" You nodded as you readjusted your back pressed up against the wall. "Yeah, I'm okay ... he wasn't letting up." Trying to crack a joke clearly didn't work for the mood in the room. The two other players stayed silent, lips trembling with fear as a nightmare happened beyond the door. Young-Il gave you a glimpse of the smile before offering you a hand. "Here, that didn't sound pretty." He replied calmly as he helped you keep steady on your better leg. Soon everyone was let out of their respective rooms once again. The counter on the wall is now down to "168." On the other side of the room, you and Young-Il excited. Even as much as you tried to resist his help your leg was stinging like hell. The distant voices of Jung-bae and Dae-ho could be heard. "Brother Young-Il, Y/n!" Along with your other fellow teammates. Young-Il flashed his teeth in a smile as he called back. "Gi-hun!" You two rushed back together, you slightly lagging behind him. But he didn't seem to take any mind to it. In fact, trying to make sure you didn't damage your injured leg any more than it already was. You were met with the sight of your relieved friends. Jung-bae was immediately joyously welcoming the two of you back. "I was worried, I'm glad you two made it back." Gi-hun addressed the two of you. Young-Il had the biggest charismatic grin on his face.

"I'm a social guy, so I'm pretty good at these kinds of games." You chuckled alongside Jung-bae as the air around you all settled. This calm was weird but it was welcomed by you. "I just kinda held on tight and hoped I wouldn't get trampled along the way, seems like it works." Jung-bae nodded firmly as he patted your back, the wind leaving your lungs. "It sure did! I knew you two would make it out in one piece, I did." Dae-hos eyes wandered to your limp. He frowned at the sight of you holding back simmering pain. It all kinda just mixed into the worry already present on his face. But the joke Young-Il made definitely eased up tension. "Ohh... In her tummy?" It was a perfectly timed response to even get Gi-hun to let out some tension with a laugh. You felt well about this entire ordeal, seeing the warmth in everyone's faces. The next round was about to begin. Dae-ho turned his attention to you, pointing down to your leg. "Eh? - what happened with you?" His eyes showed genuine worry. He didn't want to lose you... maybe. "I'm fine, I just got caught up in the crowd when me and Young-Il were trying to find others." You tried to wave off his concerns, but he would place a reassuring hand on your arm, gently squeezing the bicep. "Your leg looks pretty torn up, on second thought don't look down. The sight before him was a bone prodding at the skin of your ankle. This wasn't good, you needed to be able to run! His breathing was panicked as his eyes darted around. "I-please be careful, it doesn't look so good. L-let me help you relieve pressure on it, hop." His arm extended for you to hold onto it. You gritted your teeth as you linked your arm with his. One foot, two foot repeated in your head as every remaining player returned to the platform. The numbers continued to be announced. Three, Six, and then Two. You didn't expect yourself to survive the last one. But a girl... You had seen her before hanging out with the guy who called himself Thanos. She had practically thrown you into a room. As the door clicked shut you finally could relax your one leg against the wall. She didn't really say much to you. "Thank you... thank you." You repeated, and your head nodded also repeatedly. "We saved each other, so thank - you." She replied.

Her tone was brief and almost bitter but who wouldn't be after witnessing what they had witnessed. Finally, it was all over, this game of doom. The walk down the stairs was brutal on your ankle. Your mind was so focused on the burning pain that you could only listen to somewhat of what Dae-ho was saying ... for ... moral support?

Quickly he swooped his arm back under yours. As players filled into the room , this was a moment of rest. Jung-bae was already counting the heads of players. So at the moment it was best to lay low and wait at the side lines. Perfect for Dae-ho to help you. Bringing you off to the main steps of the beds , he ushered you to sit.

“Okay! Thank you mother hen…” , you’d joke as you sat yourself up straight. Clearly the joke didn’t land as Dae-ho looked at you sternly. Slowly you extended your ankle out to him as he kneeled down in front of your , with an awkward chuckle in between. Immediately assessing your leg you couldn’t help but butt in as you heard him wincing. “What-“

Your eyes expanded seeing what Dae-ho was seeing. Comically you held a hand over your mouth as you gagged. Dae-ho immediately once again tried to calm your nerves. “I can fix it. If I remember correctly.. here.” His hands reached to unzip the zipper of your own jacket to your “tracksuit.” Your hands and his hands collided but by the way he was gesturing to your sleeve , you got what he was putting down.

Your teeth gnawed down on your sleeve. You pulled your eyes away immediately from the sight of your busted ankle. Dae-ho had his hands firmly set around specific points of your ankle. “Breathe in.. and three , two-“ Your ankle sounded off with a loud pop. You felt like you had gotten air brought back into your lungs. A pleased smile grew on his face. His eyes were so kind as he watched you be filled with pain relief. Rolling your ankle to keep it set. You saw him gripping at his shirt sleeve. “Dae-ho.. what are you doing?” You could not get another word as he ripped his sleeve off.

Accidentally you’d gasp as he quickly wrapped the fabric around your relocated ankle. “This should help ease your pain.” You were left speechless , which left him chuckling at your dumbfound-ness. “How did you know how to do that?” You asked him curiously. I mean he was an ex-marine , not just anyone knew how to set an ankle , even a marine. He shrugged his shoulders with a clueless nature. “I’ve had a bone injured one too many times. We also learned it when needing to help tend to fellow injured marines on the spot.” You gave him a look of recognition as you kept that in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you realized your ankle was still in his gentle grip.

“You’re too kind to me Dae-ho.” You humbly remarked as you once again glanced away. What he responded with was… shocking? Well it’s not like he had let out a bomb of truth on you. But just by the way he responded to you made you feel the biggest of emotions. “We’re friends by now , and maybe I like taking care of you.”

Okay , was he flirting with you? No that was impolite to think. Your mind raced as you were only able to utter out a measly , “I appreciate you.” His head would triumphantly nod. “I appreciate you too , my friend!” In quick succession , you were already being called over by Gi-hun. Him and Young-Il were standing in a sort of corner of space behind empty bunks.

Dae-ho quickly stood up , offering you a hand. “We’re needed.” He’d surmised with an unmistakable grin on his face. Maybe he was feeling butterflies just like you. Repositioning your body , you began to sit up as your hand clasped with his. “We most definitely are.” You remarked in response. Odds be damned , Dae-ho was too good for you.

[catherinnn]

Ok, I have a cute/silly fic request:

Can I get a story where everyone in Hellfire club knows that the reader and Eddie have feelings for each other, so they each come up their own plans to get them together (whether or not Erica is included in this I'll leave up to you). It seems as though each of their plans fail, until they see reader and Eddie out on a date together. They all get so excited that they were successful that the reader and Eddie don't have the heart to tell them they've actually been dating for a while and wanted to wait before telling them. So they just let them believe it was all them.

The Plan Totally Worked!

a/n: Thank you for requesting again babe, i hope you enjoy this! I'm catching up with requests now that have more free time, so if anyone has any, please feel free to write me!

words: 1k

masterlist

“Guess who?” you felt two hands cover your eyes as you were at your locker. 

Behind you stands Eddie smirking with a confused Dustin by his side. They were discussing which Lord of the Rings book is their favorite and why, when Eddie ran up to you as soon as he saw you, forgetting all about their topic. 

“It’s easy to guess when you’re the one wearing a billion rings” you tease him. He moves his hands as you turn around.

“I forgot you were so smart” he says, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Hey boys” you greet them.

“Hi sweetheart, you look very pretty today” Eddie gives you the cutest grin. 

“Hi” Dustin greets you, still pondering about the change of demeanor Eddie suddenly had when he saw you. 

“Yeah, obviously he likes her,” Lucas says. “you actually never noticed how flirty and playful he gets when he sees her?”  

“Yeah, I mean they do flirt constantly. But they’re still just friends, aren’t they?” Dustin thinks.

“Yeah, I think so” Mike agrees.

“Do you think she likes him too?” Dustin asks.

“She wouldn’t flirt back as much as she does if she didn’t. I say she does” Lucas says as if he’s a relationship expert, which makes Mike roll his eyes.

“Why do we even care?” he asks.

“They’re our friends, and obviously they are too chicken to make a move! We have to help them!” Dustin says, feeling very motivated.

They begin brainstorming a series of plans to get the two of you together.

Like the secret date: 

Dustin invited you to meet him at an ice cream shop, he said the rest of the group were coming as well. He also asked you to dress up nice which sounded very random. 

Funny enough, none of the guys could make it, only Eddie, who was just as confused as you. Either way, you ordered your ice creams and sat at a table together. 

The three boys were watching from the other side of the window of the place, giving each other high fives since the plan seemed to work. That’s when they see Steve and Robin also entering the ice cream shop and joining you two, ruining your ‘date’. 

What the boys didn’t know is that since Dustin had told you they were all coming, you also took the liberty to invite Steve and Robin, thinking that you’ll have a nice afternoon all together. 

Since that didn’t seem to work, they had to move to plan B:

“Wayne’s birthday is coming up, isn’t it?” Dustin asks Eddie in the middle of lunch.

“Yeah, it is. How did you know?” 

“I just remembered you mentioned it… Do you know what to get him?” Dustin acts.

“Like a gift? I was thinking maybe a new hat or another mug” Eddie shrugs.

“Oh come on, that is so bad!” Dustin says and Eddie frowns. “You could do something more meaningful, like bake him a cake!” 

When Dustin says that you choke on your drink. “Sorry, I just imagined Eddie baking” you say laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t know what caused the impression that I could ever bake a cake for someone, but it is far from the reality” Eddie tells Dustin.

“Well, why don’t you help him? You like baking, don’t you?” Dustin asks you.

“Yeah, sometimes” you say.

“That’s perfect! And it’s a much better gift!” Dustin sells it.

“It would be a nicer gift than just another hat” you agree.

“You’ll help me? Because I’m lost if I have to do it alone” Eddie asks you.

“Of course I’ll help, I’ll come over to your after school” you say and Eddie nods.

Dustin thinks this is it, there is no way that this didn’t work. He can imagine you telling Eddie how to do everything and then helping him because he’s just not doing it right. Maybe Eddie gets playful and starts teasing you, putting flour on your face and then a battle starts where you end up all messy. Maybe the giggles stop and you realize you’re very close together and then you can’t hide it anymore and you finally kiss. 

So, just imagine his surprise when the next day, he doesn’t see you two kissing by your locker when he gets to school. Instead, he finds you two chatting as casual as ever.

“So… how did the baking go?” he asks.

“Really good, she bossed me around all afternoon but we ended up with a decent cake. Wayne loved it” Eddie says. 

“Oh, that easy?” Dustin asks, surprised.

“Well, when you have a professional chef helping, it’s easy enough” Eddie teases you.

“Oh shut up, he was surprisingly good too. Maybe it was the motivation he had to then eat the cake” you say. 

“It was amazing” Eddie nods.

“That’s good news” Dustin says, still disappointed. “Hey, I was gonna say… you look really nice today” he tells you.

“Aw, thanks-”

“Doesn’t she look nice, Eddie?” Dustin pushes him.

“Uh, yeah. Well, she always does” he says, confused.

“Dude, leave it alone. If it didn’t happen already after all those tries, it’s not gonna happen” Lucas tells Dustin. The two of them are on their bikes, on their way to Mike’s. “Hey, isn’t that Eddie’s van?” He sees it parked in front of a restaurant. 

“Oh, yeah, it is! Is he in this place? It seems fancy!” 

When they peek in the window they find the two of you cuddled up. You seemed to be chatting and giggling until you kissed. 

“Wow! It worked! The plan totally worked!” Dustin cheers.

“Holy shit man! It totally did!”

If they only knew what was actually happening inside the restaurant:

“Happy anniversary, princess” Eddie smiles at you.

“Happy anniversary, baby. I can’t believe it’s been a year already!” you say pleased.

"So... you two have anything you would like to share?" Dustin asks you on Monday at lunch.

“The best year of my life” he flirts before kissing you, he really gets all mushy and corny when you’re alone. You decided to not be those kinds of couples that make out or cuddle in front of all their friends, avoiding PDA as much as you could to not make anyone uncomfortable.

"Umm... no?" you say, confused.

"We can tell us, we saw you two lovebirds!" Lucas chimes in.

"Saw us where?" Eddie asks, just as confused.

"On your date last Friday!"

"Oh yeah, we had dinner" Eddie smiles.

"My plan totally worked!" Dustin says.

"Hey! I helped too!" Lucas complains.

"What plan?" you two go back to confusion.

"You really never noticed? I set you two up! I noticed how much you like each other over these last few months and took control since you were never gonna!" he explains smugly.

"What do you- Ouch!" Eddie starts but you pinch him so he stops.

"You set us up?! That's why you were acting so weird?" you smile when you realize what he was trying to do.

"You're welcome" Dustin throws himself flowers.

"Well, we owe it to you, kid" Eddie says sarcastically.

"What are you on about? They've been dating for a year!" Gareth burstes his bubble.

"Wait what?!"

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN. T_T canon stuff/medieval health care might not be accurate so ROLLLL with it ok. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon takes you to the dining room, and upon entering, you are met with Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were in the middle of eating lunch. For a split second, you are happy to see them both, but then you remember the horrible news regarding the princess's mother.

Daemon is taken off-guard by how you pull away from him. He knits his brows, following after you as you head towards his niece, deeply annoyed by how easily you disregard him. But upon hearing the words you speak, he freezes.

"My deepest condolences, my princess," you curtsy at Rhaenyra before placing a hand on her shoulder.

She is dejected and her eyes are sullen as she turns to you.

"She was in active labor last I saw her..." you shake your head, finding the words to say, "it is terrible to be without a mother," you turn to your sister, placing a hand on her shoulder as well, "the pain never quite leaves you. My sister and I know it well."

Rhaenyra turns back to her food, "how good to know."

You frown and crouch down beside her, "darling."

Rhaenyra slowly turns back to you, tears now falling from her eyes.

"Pain is difficult... but I've come to realize," you swipe her cheek, "it makes peace all the more precious." You chuckle under your breath when your own eyes begin to water, "I would know."

Alicent frowns, quickly feeling her own eyes well up at the display.

The same happens to Daemon. He watches three girls weep and his face hardens as he comes to Rhaenyra's side, "bisa tolī kessa rēbagon, ñuha riña." This too shall pass, my girl.

Rhaenyra turns to her uncle as he grabs her hand, heavy tears stream down her face, "ziry ōdragon." It hurts.

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then he notices Alicent begin to fuss over you. You softly brush her off as you come to stand. Alicent is quick to stand with you, and she is glad to have done so, because you nearly topple back.

Rhaenyra's hand is quickly dropped when Daemon comes to your side, calling out your name. You sheepishly turn to him, apologizing over and back as he escorts you to a seat.

Rhaenyra stares at you as her uncle sits you in the chair across her She watches how Daemon treats you, thinking she's never seen him treat anyone like this before, much less a lady. It makes her sorrow all the more sour.

He brushes your back but only calms after your food is served and he's seen you eat a few bites. He takes a goblet of wine but his eyes remain fixed on you, "better?"

You turn to him, sheepish, still, "I am. Thank you, darling."

Alicent's eyes widen at the sound of the pet name. Rhaenyra rolls her eyes with a huff. It is precisely that sound that makes you realize what you've said. You were used to referring to Alicent and Rhaenyra that, it came so naturally this moment, "I- I mean-"

"Where is your father?" Daemon turns to Rhaenyra, seemingly not noticing your slip up. He did notice, but why wouldn't you call him darling?

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw as she shakes her head, "mourning his lost heir."

Both you and your husband's face fall. You turn from the princess to the prince, reaching for his hand. Daemon clutches your hand as his brows constrict, "your brother is dead?"

"Just last night," Rhaenyra absentmindedly stirs her food, "his and my mother's funereal will be held in a few hours."

Your heart hurts for her, "my deepest sympathies for your losses, princess."

There is a thick silence for a moment. You all find it quite hard to eat, but you do so regardless. You force feed yourself through the unpleasant churn in your belly. After a while, you look across the room, finding that it looked everyone was experiencing the same thing. You break the silence, turning to your sister, "perhaps Alicent can accompany you to the temple to pray. It did always help me."

Alicent turns to Rhaenyra, but she does not react.

Your sister looks back at you and you give her a nod of encouragment. Alicent thinks for a moment, "a walk there would be good for you as well."

You smile at the red haired girl.

"My prayers are terrible," Rhaenyra mumbles.

You huff and frown at the thought, "it is impossible. No prayer is terrible, especially not one spoken in earnest."

Rhaenyra remembers how her septa would use you as an example for praying. She sniffles, "would you join us, aunt?"

You perk and immediately nod, "I would love t-"

"No," Daemon quips, placing his silverware down, "I do not want to be subjected to tolling bells and incense."

You all turn to him as Daemon turns to you. You slowly shake your head, "if... that is the case, you do not have to come."

Daemon's eyes widen ever so slightly in offense.

"Perhaps you can wa-"

"Kesan daor mītepagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys," I will not lend you my wife, says Daemon to Rhaenyra.

You turn from your husband to his niece. Rhaenyra looks back at you, "he says he will not lend you to me."

Your lips part, giving him a look, "Daemon."

"She has your sister," he turns to you, "if they need another companion, lend her your ward."

A long silence passes.

Rhaenyra stares at her half-empty plate and decides that's as much as she'll ever get to eat in this moment. She pushes her chair back and stands, "I'm quite finished," she looks between the table. Alicent takes a final spoonful before standing as well.

"Raqagon aōha ābrazȳrys, kepa," enjoy your wife, uncle, Rhaenyra says as she walks off. Alicent follows after her, and both girls look at you as you stand to greet them goodbye. Daemon simply looks at his niece.

Rhaenyra, though she always harbored a special affection towards her uncle, could not find it in her to project her ire out on you, for you were nothing but kind to her, and after all, you were her closest friend's older sister. She nods at you as she leaves, "princess."

"Princess," you nod back and do the same for Alicent, "sister. Take care of each other."

Once they are gone, you sit back down and glare at Daemon.

It takes a moment for him to realize it. When he catches your look, his brows contort. You immediately quip, "would it very hard for you to stomach the ambience of the temple for an hour?"

Daemon turns back to his plate. He thinks of the night he came to you at the temple, "just because I came for you does not mean I wish to do the same for Rhaenyra."

You knit your brows deeply, not having a clue on what he's saying, "what?"

The image of sorrowful wailing still haunts him, and your prayer for death is not something he wishes to hear ever again. You cannot pray such prayers if you are not in that fucking place, "I forbid you from going to the temple."

"You forbid me?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"It is my prerogative where I go, and-" he turns back to you, "where my wife does."

You stare at him for a moment. You feel frustration bubble in your belly, "Daemon."

Anger bubbles in his belly.

You reach for his hand and gaze upon him in confusion, "the child's mother is dead."

He looks at your hand before his away, "I knew her mother longer than she has."

You chuckle in disbelief, pulling your head back. He looks at you, jaw set and eyes glassy. You shake your head slowly, "that's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Daemon laughs, hurt by your sentiment.

"Her mother is dead," you shake your head rapidly, "she who taught her everything she kno-"

Daemon stands abruptly, jaw and fists clenched tightly, making you flinch. He stares at you for a long moment and you feel your breath begin to grow heavy. You slowly reach for his hand, half expecting him to rip his arm away. When he does not, you come to a stand, "Dae-"

"You impress me with your commitment to understand everyone else but I."

His words stab you like a spear through the chest. Your eyes begin to water, "is that what you think I'm do-"

"Then what?!" he snaps, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

You begin to sob and you take his cheeks, "I'm trying to make you understand what I am thinking, why I want to go with Rhaenyra, because I know what it fee-"

"Do I not mourn?" Daemon swats your hand away from him. He quickly turns away when his tears begin to fall. He does not get to notice how you twitch at his action, nor how instantly your heart begins to race.

He walks off to the door, stopping for a moment, waiting for you to come after him. You do not.

More accurately, you cannot. You clutch your chest and try to calm yourself before you slip into a full blown attack. You force yourself to take five deep breaths, and thankfully, you do not feel light headed.

Daemon, too wrapped up in his self-suffering, does not even think to look at you and storms out of the dining room.

By the time the doors slam shut, you are able to bring yourself to go after your husband. You move as quickly as you can, convincing yourself sprinting was worth it if you managed to catch up to Daemon. The thing was, you were still a terrible runner, and it if wasn't hard enough to catch your breath, you were screaming out the prince's name as you did, making it doubly hard.

Daemon, on the other hand, did not have to try to walk as fast as he did. He is walking so fast, if anyone were to crash into him, they would shoot off and hurt themselves.

It doesn't take long for you to lose your breath, and though you didn't want to, your body to forces you to stop. You were so close. You managed to catch a whiff of Daemon's silver hair, but now everything was turning silver... then black. You reach to the side to lean against the wall, but you miscalculate your reach and shift your weight, only to slip and crash roughly onto the ground.

You're so out of breath, no sound comes out of you when you crash. The pain is immense, yet you are rendered mute. Your ribs throb at the impact of colliding against the stone floor. You do not know it, but your nose it bleeding too.

It's a wonder that you did not pass out. Or perhaps it was the gods' will for you to feel fibre of your body strangle itself from how your lungs struggled, as punishment for being unkind to your husband.

You do know know it, but two Gold Cloaks find you on the floor. They are quick to bring you to the maester's ward. You hear them explain to the measter how they found you, and you muster up your remaining energy to say, "Daemon... please."

The two Gold Cloaks understand and leave with the intent of sending your husband to you. They will not manage to find him till much later for he went off on dragonback.

You lie on one of the cots in the maester's ward, staring at the ceiling you've come to know all too well. You know your maester can do little to help you in this moment, but you are grateful for his care nonetheless.

"You mustn't strain yourself in your condition, your grace," the old man says, "you are carrying a child within you."

You tense at his words. Your sit up and straighten your back, rapidly shaking your head, "b-but, maester, how can that be? It cannot be."

He offers you a solemn look, "your father, Lord Hand, has made us monitor you-"

"He does not finish inside me," you quip and frantically motion, "he- he... he spills on my skin. How then can I be with child?"

The maester is taken aback by your confession. He does not give himself away though and calmly explains, "it is still possible for... the seed take root from premature ejaculation."

You are floored by this information. You shake your head in disagreement, "but— he will not believe me."

"He does not have to. It does not ch-"

"He will do everything to villainize me. He will accuse me of infidelity."

He frowns, "I can explain it to-"

"No!" you grab his arms, "you must not tell him! You must not tell a soul."

He pulls his head back, "your grace..." he brings your hands slowly off him, "you can only hide such a thing for so long."

You shake your head and bring yourself to stand, "it is a worry for another time."

"Wait- you cannot leave-"

"I cannot miss the queen's funeral."

The maester does his best to prevent you from leaving. He calmly tries to lead you back to bed and explain that no one would fault you for being unable to attend. You are persistent however and managed to get out of the room. Two other maesters come and try to reel you back in, and it is the same time your wards come running in.

News of you fainting had spread like wildfire, and both their faces were marked with avid worry. "Princess!" they call in unison.

"Make them release me!" you wail in exhaustion as you fight off the maesters.

"She cannot go," your maester says, "she is far too weak."

"Unhand her this instant!" Erryk barks, ready to forcefully shove the old men away from you.

The maesters pull away in shock and confusion as Erryk imposes upon them. Arryk is the one to keep you upright, and he is horrified by the state you are in. You lean into his armour, lulled by his hard steel as you sigh in exhaustion.

"You would subdue her in such a state?" Arryk snaps.

"She is hysterical," the maester says, "she is not strong enough to-"

"Aye, but she's strong enough to fight off 3 grown men?" Arryk grits his teeth as he keeps you upright, "have you not given her medication?"

He sighs, "there is no medication fo-"

"Then what business has she here?" Erryk raises his brows, "you'd keep her to rot?"

The man scoffs, "I am offended, ser, that you think you know better than I when it comes to the health of the princes."

"I do know better," Erryk snaps, "you will not treat her like a prisoner if she asks to leave again."

"Ha!" the maester snaps, "fine! I'm sure the days you've spent gutting men has made you learned in the ways to heal them, ser."

With that, the maesters leave and you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. You sigh as Erryk turns to you, seeing the hardness of his face soften in real time. You frown, "you should not have done that."

"My duty?" he narrows his eyes, "they had you surrounded like a criminal."

Arryk nods, "I fear they might have bruised you."

You sigh, fighting back tears. You steel yourself away and shake your head, "I should prepare for the funeral."

You do just that and Erryk and Arryk escort you to the funeral. You immediately spot Daemon, but he was stood beside his brother and niece, so you did not think it proper to interlope. You find Alicent standing just a few paces from Rhaenyra and debate to join her, but then you see the Lord Hand farther behind her, and you feel the need to cry.

"Papa," you mumble to yourself as you go to him.

Your father is quick to recognize your distress once you come to him, and quickly takes you under his arm. It is so instinctive, the Cargyll twins are shocked by it. They were supposed to keep close watch on you, but they decided to give you and your father privacy.

Otto had long decided physical affections were no use to you, and yet in this moment, he pulls you into him, securing one arm your shoulders. You press your cheek into his chest as you steal a glance at the king. Viserys stands before two lifeless bodies, and the sight mirrored that of the day your mother died.

You wrap your arms around your father.

He sighs, eyes throwing daggers at the Rogue fucking prince, "did he take the news badly?"

You shake your head, "I have not told him."

Otto sighs again, agitated and disappointed. His face is crestfallen as calls out your name, "what happened then?"

"I am terrified."

Your father tenses and clenches his jaw. He strokes your hair, doing his best to ignore the awful sounds you were making. "The gods with strengthen you, daughter." he turns to Alicent, "I will take care of it, my girl."

After the funeral, once Otto made sure you are taken care off, he goes to his other daughter and asks about the princess. Alicent is quick to explain to him that Rhaenyra is so much like you when your mother died, "I have not seen Rhaenyra in such a state."

Otto offers Alicent a soft smile, placing a hand on her cheek, "you are ever empathetic, daughter, to both the princess and your sister."

"Sister did not look well at the funeral either. I should check up on her."

"That won't be necessary," her father raises a hand, "I've seen to her already. She needs only to rest now."

Alicent slowly nods.

"You ought to offer some empathy to the king however."

The girl tenses at the thought.

"Unlike your princesses, the king does not have people to go to at this time. Even now, he's secluded himself in his chambers. It would be good of you to go to him from time to time, if only to express how you keep him in your prayers."

Alicent tries to make sense of it. She clenches her jaw, "wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to do this, father?"

He chuckles lowly, "how much sadder would he be if a widower offer another widower his bitter prayers?"

She stills at the thought and understands. Or so she thinks.

Otto smiles and places a hand on her shoulder, "it might be best if you keep private your visits to him. You need not explain your concern to Rhaenyra to further distress her."

She nods in understanding. In truth, she does not understand the true intentions of her father, and will not until it is far too late.

As this was happening, you were trying to get ahold of Daemon. You could not for he was quick to leave the funeral right after it concluded. He had seen you crying to your father and wanted to wash his eyes with alcohol, unwanting to behold such a gruesome sight. It stung far too much that you sought comfort in that cunt face. Why didn't you cry to him instead?

Daemon washes alcohol down his throat instead with members of his City Watch at his favorite brothel. Mysaria is there to keep him company and though her touch and words are gentle, he cannot find solace in them like he once did.

The two guards who had found you on the floor earlier today hear about the gathering and go to the prince to tell him what had happened to you.

"Your grace."

Daemon sulks as he stares at a cup of wine. Mysaria, who was stood behind his chair, looks at the men then to the silver haired man, "my prince. These men want to speak to you."

"Wha-what for?" he snaps through a hiccup.

"Your wife, my prince," one says.

Mysaria stiffens, lips parting. She was not a stranger to Daemon's foul moods and prided herself in easily defusing them. It changed when he married the Hightower girl. Though it was evident most of his frustrations stemmed from you, you were too much of a touchy subject, which is why she says, "I do not think he wants to talk about her."

"A whore should not meddle with concerns she cannot understand."

Mysaria scoffs, thinking about how Daemon fucked her once and called out his bride's name. When she brought it up after, he screamed, telling her he doesn't pay her to ask questions. She steps back and crosses her arms, "be my guest then."

One of the two guards lean forward in an attempt to gain the attention of the distracted man, "prince Daemon. We wished to report something regarding your wife."

Daemon ticks. He had been gazing into space, but now he has the wits to pours himself a drink, "is she dead now too?"

The two are taken aback. Mysaria steps back a few paces.

"N-no, your grace. But she-"

"Then do not FUCKING mention her to me!" Daemon snaps, jolting from his seat. His scream was loud enough to cause the noise to cease. He grabs his cup and downs his drink in one go. He then pushes past the two guards and begins to monologue.

"The gods give as the gods take," he says, voice horse and eyes misty. "Try as they may, I am not so easily replaced."

The room is solemn as they look upon the prince. He is clearly distraught and wholly drunk.

He stares at his cup, "wine does not taste sweeter with tears. Tonight, we drink to the Heir For A Day..." he burps, "perhaps he would have liked wine."

Back in the keep, as Alicent leaves her father's quarters, you go to them, which is why you cross paths. She is concerned by how you lean into ser Cargyll's arm as you walk, and immediately comes to your side, "sister?"

"Alicent," you smile, immediately perking up.

"Lady Hightower," the knight greets her.

"It's ser Erryk," you playfully whisper with a smile.

Alicent turns to you and offershim as soft smile, "ser Erryk."

"You spoke to father, surely," you take her hand, making her look back at you, "is his mood grim?"

She shakes her head, "no. He is... relatively placid, I think."

"Good," you break away from Erryk. He assures you are firmly planted on your feet before releasing you, "I can talk to him then."

"Shouldn't you rather be resting?" she asks in concern.

"It is urgent. I-" you shake your head, "I cannot delay any further."

Alicent realizes then that your hair was fully undone and slightly messy now. You were also in your thick velvet robe, and it only causes her further concern. "I know I am not Gwayne, but if there is anything you wish to speak of," she squeezes your hands, "I am hear to lend an ear."

Your lips wobble, but you steel yourself away. You crush your sister into your arms and pepper her cheeks with kisses, "my sweet girl. I am five years your senior. I must lend you my ear." You pull away and cup her cheeks. You frown when you see her glassy eyes, "do not worry for me."

She chuckles rather sadly, "we help but worry always for those we love."

Erryk heart pinches at the solemn exchange of the two sisters. He is glad to know that at least one more person in your family loved you with gentleness. He makes mental note to encourage you to write to your brother.

When Alicent leaves, you take a breath before knocking on the Hand's door.

"Enter."

You walk in and find your father busy at his desk.

"Father."

Otto looks up at you, immediately coming to stand, "what's wrong?"

You close the door behind him, catching Erryk's encouraging gaze. He nods before you shut the door. You turn to you father, finding he was already walking towards you.

He takes your hand, inspecting you. He speaks your name carefully, and it softens your frigid demeanor, "what has happened?"

You smile sadly, "I cannot sleep."

He sighs, partially relieved it is nothing so severe. He walks towards the door, "I will have one of the maids send you warm milk and honey."

"There is something I must tell you," you say, making him stop.

He turns back you, antsy over your serious tone, "if it is regarding Daemon. Do not worry. I have designs to keep him on a leash."

You release his hand and turn to your feet.

His expression hardens. He knows whatever you have to say is grave because you can no longer look at him. He steps forward and takes your cheeks, "daughter."

You look up at him, face stained with tears.

"Go to bed," he wipes your cheeks, "you'll muster the nerve to tell your husband the news soon en-"

"He does not finish inside me, father."

"..."

"I've-" you choke on your breath, "I've spoken about it to the maesters and he's explained it is possible for the seed to take root from premature ejaculation but-"

"Have you strayed?" Otto tightens his hold a fraction.

You are aghast by his statement and rapidly shake your head, "father, I wou-"

"Then there is nothing to fear," he cuts you off, brows tensing, "your child will be born with silver hair and violet eyes, and-"

"Only I inherited your hair color," you mumble, beginning to tremble, "if my child looks too much like me—" you rapidly shake your head, "he will-"

"Enough," he snaps, shaking you slightly.

You chest begins to tighten.

Otto notices and brushes your hair out of your face. He recites the common prayer you used to pray with your mother, "Seven, hear me. Father, strengthen me. Mother, protect me. Warrior, d—"

"Defend me," you sigh, joining in, "Smith, mend me."

"Mend my daughter," Otto mumbles softly.

"Maiden, beautify me," you say together, "Crone, enlighten me. Stranger, guide me."

Otto nods and strokes your hair, "now breathe."

It takes a few deep breaths, but you are calm now. He leads you to the door and opens it. "Oh, good," he says, once spotting your ward, "you're not entirely useless."

Erryk walks over to you, ignoring your father completely as he takes you by the arm.

"Take her to bed and have some warm milk and honey served to her."

"Yes, my lord," he says, though not sparing the lord a glance.

You, however, do, looking back with a soft smile, "good night, father."

He is about to reply, but then comes a servant boy, holding a plate of crackers and cheese, who freezes at the sight of the crowded entry. He thinks he's made a mistake, so he turns to leave, but Otto raises a hand and beckons the boy over, "come."

The boy walks past you, mumble a soft, "milady."

You smile and nod, "good evening."

Erryk eyes him suspiciously as he enters the room but refocuses on walking you back.

Otto closes the door and the boy places the crackers on the table. The man circles 'round to his desk and sits down, "what news do you bring me today?"

"Prince Daemon at the brothel, milord," the boy says, rolling back and forth on his heels.

The Lord Hand's face twists in contempt. He pulls his desk open and procures a cold coin.

The boy gleefully takes it and begins to explain the events that take place.

[damnibreathealot]

hey me again this time with an actual request 😋,

could you possibly wright a fic about Simon using toys and vibes to get both reader and him off. Like not just toys to do so but using them while having sex as added pleasure . So many writers especially with nsfw alphabets always mention toys but they headcanon that he doesn't use them unless you want. Like sure maybe he wouldn’t use them at first because he never thought of using them as he was used to just his hand and reader, but when he sees the possibilities and the LARGE variety his brain is going 100 miles per minute thinking of different ways to use certain toys on you. I would love for him to make reader sit and watch while he jerks himself off as he uses a vibrator to stimulate his dick and then when he actually fucks them and there both getting close he uses that same vibrator to press against her clit and near her entrance so they can both feel the vibrations.

Of cooourse if your not comfortable writing this you don’t have to, I just wanted to get that idea out of my head, because…

lawd-

ok, you're 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂! i fw it!!

simon 'ghost' riley using toys and a vibrator on the both of you.

✎ | the use of toys! again, like usual, no gender mentioned! just female genitals.

✎ | um, got kinda crazy with this one but hope you enjoy!! :3 (i waffled so bad it's crazy.)

simon is so fucking blunt. its crazy. you didn't really expect him to come in your room with a dildo in your favourite colour and around the same size of his dick and tell you to use it in front of him on a wednesday evening. but you learn something new everyday...

how could you refuse? underwear already discarded onto the floor, dildo stuffed deep into your cunt while simon watches from the other end of the bed.

your slick pussy dripping all over the dildo was such a pretty sight to see. his hand couldn't help but wrap itself around his cock, moving it up and down while pressing a vibrator against his tip.

your head thrown back against the headboard of the bed, panting and soon enough, you cum hard around the dildo. your eyes slowly open to glance at simon. fuck he looked so hot, cum splattered all over his hand, breath heavy, vibrator in hand.

he rushed over to you, pulling the dildo out of you with a squelch. he threw it away somewhere on the floor, something you guys would have to clean up later. you whine from the lack of pleasure, but that whine quickly turned into a moan when he replaced the dildo with his dick.

he pressed the vibrator against your clit, which was slightly sensitive from cumming not to long ago. he was sensitive too, so his pace was easy and slow.

he used his free hand to hold onto your hip while fucking himself in and out of you. his eyes entranced by how well your pussy was taking him. a white ring formed at the base of his cock. you always took him so well. your cunt always fluttering so nicely around his cock.

the dual sensation of his cock pressing against your g-spot and the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit – causing tears of pleasure to prickle up in your eyes. your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head.

you were fucked out of your mind. so close to cumming already.

the knot in your stomach tightens. simon knew you were close again and just like before, he was too. he moved faster, cock drilling in and out of you. his tip grazing perfectly against your cervix until the knot in your stomach eases up in stomach and you cum around his cock. simon follows on not to long after – his cock twitching inside of you and spurts inside of you.

what an eventful wednesday evening...

hehe! hope this peaked your interest... :3

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

[Is It Warm?]

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

summary: A stressed-out man deserves a stress-free encounter.

content warning: another PWP but it actually has plot...I should stop calling these PWPs, an uncomfortable scene at the beginning that involves a form of harassment, 18+ so MDNI, body worship (m receiving), thorough body massages, freeform? pegging, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), cum as lube, creampie

word count: 4.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: This is partially a birthday gift to myself and partially a part of the array of fics I wanted to get out before October was over for like...an all-month birthday celebration? School is getting in my way and October is over today, so.....that plan is soiled. But still! Enjoy this!

Here’s the Part 1 of this story! It’s not necessary to read, but it’ll add a bit of context.

“Did you find it yet?”

“No, it’s still the same thing.”

You pout as Miguel digs further into bottom shelf, baskets rattling against him.

One of the stores you frequented was selling a new round of character-themed merchandise and, of course, they were quick to sell out.

This time around, Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man’s suit would be worn by the different characters adorning the jars, cups, and blankets.

Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man was also on all fours searching for the basket that your friend hid those multiple things in.

You had work in the morning, so you couldn’t camp outside and grab it as soon as the doors opened. You didn’t want to bother Miguel with something so small either.

However, he picked you up from work as a surprise with a bouquet of roses in one hand which led to the current predicament.

He saw how low the shelf was and didn’t want anyone to look under your skirt, so now you’re stuck staring at his ass filling out his jeans.

“Any warmer?” you ask.

“Maybe?” he mumbled, arch in his back deepening.

You fought the urge to rub your leg along the curve lest he bang his head and knock the entire shelf down. Instead, you folded your arms under your chest and shifted in your heels.

Since you ever so delicately brought him to new horizons, he’s been extra sensitive about your hands fondling that entire zone. He hasn’t really asked you to do it again.

It’s ok. He’s an extremely busy man and the last time, he was conked out and in a daze for a while.

Still, you were obsessed with how he looked from behind.

He starts to back up, pulling a woven basket out from behind the others. He places it on the ground. Once it’s opened, it’s as if the colorful world of cute, lovingly drawn characters was brought to you.

You clap your hands in excitement as Miguel stands up and places the basket in the small cart you’ve been pushing.

“The things I do for my girlfriend,” Miguel sighs as he dusts off his knees.

You wait until he stands straight and pull your arms around his neck to plead for a kiss. He pecks them twice and rubs your waist.

“Thank you, boyfriend,” you whisper with a smile.

Miguel purses his lips and nods, bashful.

You turn and drag the cart down the aisle, Miguel following behind with his warm hand nearly folded over your hips. You hum and comment about the things that you see, turning to look at him with big eyes when you really wanted something.

He’d give the occasional “You don’t need that,” but then there were the silent head-tilts when you described the use of a product so energetically.

“But baby, we could cuddle under this when we watch our shows! And these,” you pointed to some snail mucin you found, “we have to have this for our spa days.”

“That’s,” Miguel folded his arms, “correct. We need to keep our skin clear. And we need to keep warm.”

Errand days always turned to you to Miguel pulling items down and convincing you to get things that you didn’t need but absolutely wanted.

“What about this?” Miguel takes a bra from the rack, head turned toward the piece but eyes looking over at you.

“It’s cute, but I think I could find a cuter one somewhere else.”

“You’re right. I’ll just rip it off.”

“On second thought, add it to the cart.”

It’s about an hour before you both make it to the line for the register.

You’re trying not to add to the “annoying couple” demographic, but Miguel’s arms are holding onto the cart, enveloping you against his chest. You turn and look up at him and smile, giddy that he joined you on this errand run.

He kisses your head and hums along to the song playing through the store speakers. You lay on his chest and read along the products on the shelves next to you.

A man peeks at you over the shelf, eyes cutting into you before he smirks and walks away.

You shudder like you’re cold and make a disgusted sound before you turn your head.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asks, guiding you and the cart further in line.

“Creepy guy,” you mumble into his chest.

Miguel frowns and turns, squinting around the store. He was definitely hiding now.

“I’ll handle it,” Miguel grunts.

You stay silent, knowing that once he’s set to do something, he won’t change his mind.

One day he quietly asked you “What use would having a boyfriend with superhuman powers be if I don’t use them to protect you?”

You’ve long stopped telling him to ignore things like this.

Another inch further in line and it’s almost time to pay. The guy lingers again by the entrance of the store. You lean your weight on Miguel, feet tired of your heels and anxious of how the next few minutes could play out.

Trying to understand his motive was nearly impossible: you were clearly with someone else with a large physique, clinging to him like a lifeline. That should have been a huge hint.

When it’s time to place your items on the counter, Miguel shifts his body so you don’t see the stranger. The two of you work chat to the cashier, joking about the many things you’ve bought.

With swift movements, Miguel pays for your items and carries your bag before you can even think to pay. He turns and waits for you to lock your arms through his, a habit grown from his need to be near you.

The entrance was empty, other people scattered throughout the store.

Maybe it was just a strange incident.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind helping me with something?” the guy asks behind you just when you think you’re in the clear.

“She’s good,” Miguel tells him, face stern.

“What, so she can’t answer for herself?”

You ball a fist up around the back of Miguel’s shirt, steadying yourself, “I can answer for myself, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll be out of-“

“I-It’s just that my daughter’s birthday is coming up,” the man holds his hands up frantically. “I have no clue what 10-year-olds like nowadays. I was wondering if you could help me choose something.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. This guy could be lying completely, but the thought of a little girl out there smiling as she ripped the paper off a present tugged at you.

Looking at Miguel, you could tell he was on the same wavelength.

“There is one thing that’s all the craze,” you say.

Back in the store, you were sifting through the aisles again with your attentive boyfriend not too far behind. He was carrying all of your bags in his hands and on his shoulders so you could really make an honest effort to help.

Ten was that turning point where you either really loved imaginary toys or wanted nothing to do with then, perhaps a mix of both.

“She used to love these when she was younger,” the man pulls out a baby doll from the lower shelf.

There’s been about five things he’s mentioned all of which were geared towards a younger audience. He was so insistent that it made you wonder of he’s even talked with his daughter in the past five years.

“I’m not sure she would like this one. What about that?” you point to a popular plushie. It’s not the baby doll, but you’re sure his daughter would love it.

“Oh I don’t know…”

This back-and-forth continues for longer than you want it to. You could have been wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala while he talked about his day and instead you were stuck here.

“Sir, we really have to go,” Miguel intervenes, “I’m sure whatever you get your daughter, she’ll love it.”

The older man sneers, “You wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

“Excuse me?” your face changes, disturbed.

“Such a beautiful thing on his arm and no ring, no child. He’s slacking up,” he slides a hand down your arm. “My daughter could use someone like you-“

Miguel snatches his hand up from your arm, eyes almost glowing under the bright lights of the store.

“Are you insane?”

“Let go of me!”

The man tries to fight against Miguel but falls short as he keeps his cool. He’s only released when his body flashes in an array of blue and pink squares, knees hitting the ground.

Faster than you can comprehend what’s going on, Miguel drags him out of the door. You follow afterwards, apologetic to the confused employees.

“Do you just like to touch women for fun or is it exclusive to people that try to help you?” you can hear Miguel bark at him.

“I’ll have you reported to the authorities!”

“Yeah, yeah. Try and call the rent-a-cops,” Miguel’s lip never unfurled. He whipped out a phone. “Lyla?”

In a series of events, you watched the man go from Miguel’s grip to the stringy webs of Spider Scarlet.

“I see that this fellow is giving you trouble and sorrow,” Ben’s stunted tone crowded the stranger’s cries. “I’ll remove him quickly, no, swiftly. So that you both can have a wonderful night. Together.”

You can almost see the tension build in Miguel’s temple.

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated,” Miguel grunts. “I would like to move on with my night, please.”

“Of course, Bo- I mean hard-working citizen.”

He grabs the glitching stranger to swing back to HQ, a quiet wave to you before he left.

You laugh, feeling Miguel’s shoulders fall a bit.

“You ok, baby?” he takes your hands in his, bags lining his arms,

You nod your head, “I’ve had worst things happen. Could use some comfort, though.”

He gives a sympathetic smile and rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Small, pesky incidents like this kept popping up.

An occurrence of a clown that stood in the gray parks holding a single balloon but doing nothing else, women with pixie cuts complaining about the prices of clothes, balding men with beer bellies and baseball caps: all of these people from different eras were spread across Nueva York.

While you’ve been going into work, keeping your schedule relatively normal, Miguel has been in and out.

It wasn’t a rare sight to come home to his empty penthouse, only the city lights and a talkative Lyla to keep you company.

Sometimes, you were woken up by his arms sliding around your middle and a kiss to the back of your neck, but by the time you woke up, he was gone again.

The life of a superhero’s girlfriend was a bit isolating, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Especially not the shocked look on Miguel’s face as he enters the living room one evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, looking at the dimly lit lights and taking in the smell of something sweet in the air.

Music is playing from the speakers and Miguel is noticing how smooth the skin of your legs look from in between your silk gown. Taking advantage of his focus, you bend and remove the cloth from the table behind you.

“Ta-da!”

You stand there with your hands out, shaking them. It takes a lot to not jump like a star in excitement.

Miguel looks from you to the table.

“What is it?”

“What does it look like?”

“I meant, what is it for, honey.”

You lean on the massage table with your hip and hold your fingers up to count off, “Well, it’s for you. To relax. To unwind. To let me try out the skills I learned from that class my coworker gifted to me.”

Within the pause, you twirl four fingers in the air.

Miguel sits near the back on the couch with an exhausted look on his face, “Baby, thank you for the gesture, but I don’t know if-”

“Please! I think you’ll really, really love it. I can massage you right now while you’re not super busy,” you say as Miguel stands again. You bounce over in front of him, puppy-dog eyes on full display. “I only rented it for a few days!”

He looked to the ceiling and sighed, weak to the look on your face.

“Fine.”

“Where is your robe at?” a freshly showered Miguel asks with an eyebrow raised. He still pans up and down your body, like he hasn’t explored it a million times over.

A few steps forward and his gaze is stuck on the way your sheer and short gown molds around your body.

There’s nothing underneath but your perfumed skin.

“That’s the perk of having your girlfriend give you a massage,” you say watching him stare at your chest. You take his chin in your hand and guide his face back to your eyes. “Right?”

“Mm hm.”

You snort and tell him to lay down

“Take your towel off, silly.”

Miguel obeys, white fabric pulled from under him with a blink of an eye. He lays it just above his behind.

“This is going to feel so good. I just know it,” you say, giving his back a light rub.

“Thank you in advance,” Miguel replies. He’s lying with his head on his arms, stress from work evident.

You’re really glad he’s letting you help him indulge in this break.

Grabbing the oil from the end table you pulled over, you pour some right on his back, fingers spreading along the pivots of his neck. You. stand in front of the head of the table and press your thumbs into his nape, earning a stunted noise from him.

A smile grows on your face, “I haven’t even really started, Miguel.” Your thumbs start to circle and he turns his face into the open hole.

“Stiff there. Too many screens to watch,” he says. “It smells good.”

“Give those pretty eyes a rest then,” you tut, adding your other fingers to the ones along his neck in an upwards motion.

Shea butter never fails you.

His neck slowly heats up and you giggle to yourself. One compliment and he turned into mush.

“What about here, hm?” shifting down to the tops of his shoulders. The muscles there pulled as tight as a rope. Adding pressure to them makes Miguel groan.

“’S good.”

“I bet,” you work into a knot, warm hands pushing into his skin. “There’s no telling how long this has been here.”

Miguel silently notes that maybe he should wind himself up more if he could end up like this again: pampered by his pretty girlfriend.

As quiet as he kept his running thoughts, his throat involuntary gave you real-time reviews.

Every slide of your knuckles nearly had him purring and your fingertips warmed him through to his bones.

His shoulders feel like air once you’re moving down his spine.

“I’m going to do something different,” your voice is lower so as to not disturb the atmosphere.

You hike one of your knees up on the edge of the table and climb over him, hovering as you asses his back.

Two hands cover his waist with thumbs almost touching each other on his spine. You let go of some of your weight and press your thumbs up his back.

Miguel’s voice vibrates through the room, an arch in his spine forming.

You repeat the action, earning an even louder response.

Moving to stroking in outwards motions from his spine to the sides, you wanted to pat yourself on the back. Miguel was so relaxed under you.

Though, you wanted to smack yourself for getting excited so early, the effect of his sounds making itself evident with how cold the air felt on your exposed lower half.

Switching to move your hands down his arms to hefty muscle of his shoulder blades, you hoped to distract yourself.

“Se siente tan bien,” Miguel sighed, airy and relieved. “I’ve been climbing a lot more this past week.” (That feels so good.)

The praise went straight to your clit.

“I’m glad, Miggy. I’ll work out some more tightness in your back and move down to your legs. Sound good?” you were trying your best to control your tone.

Miguel starts to answer but a stunted sound comes from his lips instead as you start to knead his back in small places.

Back and forth, you move across his skin, heart thumping in your chest.

By the time you got to his lower back, you awkwardly sat on the towel separating the two of you. You were sure it was dampening, but you hoped Miguel was too far gone to notice.

Your thumbs circle in the dips of his skin, his hips lifting up, making you brace yourself.

“Babe, you’re going to push me off,” you say as Miguel tries to glue his waist to your fingers.

“S-sorry,” hips stutter against the table before he lays down completely.

You pat his side as a form of forgiveness and inch off of the table. The towel over his ass was wrinkled, brown skin peeking from under it.

You grab more oil to start on the back of his thighs, a place that you know could carry his tension. With both of your hands focusing on his right thigh, you add pressure to your palms.

Miguel immediately jerked, grunting through his teeth.

“Woah, there,” you rub his leg softly. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s softly pushing out air as you continue back.

“It’s embarrassing. And rude,” he mumbles after a while.

You move down to his calf, his voice rising as you envelop his skin.

“What is?”

He huffs, turning his head, “I’m hard.”

Switching legs, you try not to show your giddiness.

“Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s a normal reaction.”

“Is it?” he shifts again when you massage the inside of his thigh, so close to the problem area. “The last time I got massaged was before…everything. It was never like this.”

You try to envision a younger, scrawny Miguel laid out on the table before you and giggle.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say in between a quiet grin.

Miguel lifts his head a bit, “I can hear you smiling, amor.”

“Ok, how about this,” you remove the towel and softly cover his behind with your hands. “Can I massage here?”

Miguel looks back at you, eyes darker under these lights.

“Isn’t this a full-body massage?”

You bite your cheek to try and stop your face from lighting up, but it fails.

“Then, continue to relax, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“I prefer Mr. Boyfriend, actually.”

Humming, you push into the plushest parts of him, repeating the motion circle after circle.

You try to ignore his hole peering out every time you knead.

Miguel is breathing deeply, back rising and falling.

Looking down, you can tell that his earlier words were true. Poor thing was barely rutting against the table.

You slide a thumb on his taint, marveling at how he lets out a sharp gasp. The feeling makes him grind harder into the soft material.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Please, what, Mr. Boyfriend? Anything I can do to make your experience better?”

“I want,” you brush your finger over his hole and he groans. “Want more.”

You stop and grab the lone tile, wiping the oil from your hands.

Walking near his face, you lean down and kiss his ear, the skin heated, “This requires more facilities. One momento!”

Luckily for him, the dildo from the last time was already clean.

Coincidentally.

You grab it and some lube from the bedroom and rush back to Miguel who is sprawled out on the table.

“Sorry for the wait,” you say. “Let’s start back.”

With lube on your fingers, you rub a thumb over his hole, pressing until you breach past.

Miguel sighs, “Shock. I missed this.”

That surprises you, “Really?”

“Yes,” he moaned as you reach in further. “You make me feel good. I just didn’t have the time to enjoy it.”

Your heart soars, switching from your thumb to two fingers. The way his hips rise shows a beautiful line in his silhouette. When tell him such, he shudders.

“You always compliment me on the things I couldn’t care less for.”

“There’s beauty in all of you though, Miguel,” your words contrast how you’re digging into him, adding another finger and brushing past the ball of fire.

Miguel tightens his fists, pushing back against your hand, “Put it in me.”

“Do you like it when I praise you?” you ask, ignoring his request.

“You already know the answer. Por favor, bebé.”

He was getting whiny and you remembered that this whole endeavor was supposed to be for him, about him.

You climbed back over him, a palm pressed into his back, “I know, I know. I got you.”

“So needy,” you say as you lube up the pink plastic.

Miguel gears up to respond but you shush him when you glide the tip in.

Your name is on his lips, singing along with the melody of the instrumental playing in the background.

You pull your gown up a little, fur on the trim riding up your skin. You moan with him as you let the dildo go deeper.

From here, you can see the glow of his back, glistening under the candlelight from the oil that drives him crazy on you. The nape of his neck is starting to shine with sweat and his fingers are pressing into his palm so as to not puncture the table.

Continuing your movement, you move your wrist continuously, pushing into him and cupping your breasts to stop them from moving.

You’re drenched and when you slide your heat over his cheeks, the end of the dildo feels amazing against your clit. You hold the end of it close and move your hips along every thrust.

“Keep going,” Miguel says, reveling in the way you were getting off on top of him. “Don’t stop.”

Your hips move faster, hand on your chest moving to his back, nails digging into his skin. Your body leans over him, skin-to-skin separated by your thin gown.

No words can be formed as you listen to Miguel let out satisfied grunts, the sound of him covering and uncovering the dildo aligning with him.

You angle it so that it can slide along your folds before it enters him, keening into his skin every time.

“I love you so much, Miggy,” your nails scratch against him, your body tensing like he was the one pinning you into the table.

Miguel jerks, panting out, “Love you, too. Te amo mucho, ángel.”

You continue, Miguel’s words blending from begs for more to confessions of love.

When he reveals that he’s close, arching into you, you suck a kiss into his back, working your dildo past his prostate.

He groans, cum spreading under him. You pepper kisses across his back.

“Hm,” you got up and switch the dildo for a plug, squeezing a cheek for good luck. “I didn’t finish the massage.”

Miguel turns his body around, careful not to knock you off.

“You’re always up to something.”

He smiled, looking at your ruined gown, oil making it cling to you. He’s still hard, cum smeared across his lower abdomen.

You bring your face to his, kissing his lips while his hands slide up your hips.

“I’m just a little crazy when it comes to you,” you reply, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Miguel moves his chin up, a hand coming to cover your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your nose against his. He laughed at the gesture and rubbed down your back.

“Shall I continue, Mr. Boyfriend?”

“I’m at your command, Ms. Girlfriend.”

You lean up and slowly pull your gown off of you. Miguel watches you, not missing a single moment.

“While I did have ideas of exactly how this massage was going to go,” you reach back and scoop up the milky liquid on his stomach. You take him in your hand and pump once, twice. “I think I’ll end it with a bang.”

When his tip goes past your entrance, his eyes roll back and his hands grab your hips instinctively.

Your head dips past your shoulders as you sit further, the feeling of him familiar but still overwhelming.

Your hips stutter as you try not to let the greedy feeling of chasing your orgasm come back so quickly. To fight it, you place your hands on his pecs.

“Usually, the chest massage is done in the opposite direction,” Miguel hikes his hips up as you try to get back into masseur mode, earning a high moan from you. “B-but you get special privileges today.”

You focus on applying pressure to his collar bones, working over a fading love mark.

Miguel isn’t having it as he holds your hips and snaps up.

“I think I have a more severe problem area,” he says as you push the skin of his chest towards his armpits. He wasn’t even tense there.

“And I’ll get to it-“

“You don’t understand,” Miguel says, locking his arms around you. “It’s serious.”

He thrusts up, delving into you like he was always meant to do so. You grip his shoulders and hold on, mind hazy at the shift.

“The prettiest masseuse in the world,” he breathes out. His eyebrows are scrunching up, ever so expressive. “My private one.”

“Yes,” you sigh, close from before. You’re turning into putty in his arms.

Arousal builds as he continues to work into you. Your mouth parts, unsure as to what was coming from your mouth.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’re there,” Miguel moves one hand to grip your shoulder. “‘M ready to pay you.”

You convulse around him, core swimming with his words.

He follows right after, hips attaching to you as he fills you up. The table creaks as he pumps a few more times into your lifted body.

When you both come down, your muscles feel like they’ve been reconstructed. Miguel lifts you off of his length, keeping you in the air for a bit just to watch him drip out of you.

“That’s a pretty steep payment,” you say once you’re lying on his chest.

Miguel snickers, “I’ll help you manage it later.”

“But before that,” you wave a hand in the air making a holographic screen with blue squares appear before you both. “Leave a tip?”

Miguel wipes it away as you cackle.

“You’ve ruined me for all future massages in a normal setting and you want a tip?”

“I’m just kidding,” you kiss his pout away.

“Besides,” you reach down and graze your fingers over him. “This tip is pretty good.”

“Only ‘pretty good’? Do you need another one?”

You put your eyes to the sky, thinking, “Let’s eat dinner and get away from the nearly ruined, rented table first.”

Miguel smiles softly, “Good idea.”

dividers by: @/adornedwithlight @/inklore

a/n: I think I would like to consider this story, Is It Tight?, and Wash Day all in the same universe.

Sorry to the people in my taglist who don’t really rock with pegging. It probably won’t happen again. 😭

taglist: @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern

@tatatida @haveclayeveryday @corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae

@maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vmpz8sauceee

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhideout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @av3da @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jaykookies @snails-doodles22 @xo-zeze @plantxella @thedevax

@f1-hoff @stressed-cherry @mozzella @appledressing @abbbbbysvt-17

@woahhajime @vicravluv @xodeity @somniasworld @obsessgurlll

@starboygf @undf-stuff @bmoplanet @alexxavicry @ladysimp