#please say there is some sort of demand for it

[neontiger]

breakfast downtown

♡ MDNI 18+

♡ Jason Todd x fem!reader

♡ Bad week at work? Don't worry, princess. You can take your frustrations out on Jay. He's a big boy, he can handle it. Maybe. Smut served with a side of angst.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A scream bubbles in your gut as glass crashes to the floor into a million pieces. Maybe the stars were out of alignment, or mercury was in retrograde, or some other bullshit – something to explain the absolute mess of a week you’d had. Maybe you’d done something wrong, pissed somebody off, and they’d put a curse on you.

That guy on Tuesday, the one in your section at table three, the one who’d flirted with you relentlessly and then called you a bitch when you turned him down. Maybe he’d fucked up your week. It certainly had thrown you off-balance enough that by Friday night you were demanding Saturday off because you couldn’t take it anymore. Thankfully you had sick days saved up.

The elevator is still out of order, and you have to make the hike up three flights of stairs. A normal week that would be fine, but tonight each step sounds like echoes of bullshit. You wonder if Jason will be waiting or if he’s already gone for the night.

That pisses you off too. He’s always running away. You’ve never spent an entire night together – no, that would be asking too much of somebody who thinks of themself as some sort of savior of a city that could not give less of a shit about him. He’s like a goddamn cat, coming and going as he pleases, with a set of morals to match. What are you to him? Is your apartment some sort of fucking safe house?

What the fuck is he planning with you? Is he even planning anything, or is he just here to get his dick sucked?

You forget to remind yourself to rein it in before you shove open the door to your apartment. The first thing you see is Jason’s mask on your kitchen counter next to a sink full of dishes. Your bag drops to the floor with a loud thud.

Jason gets up from the couch. He’s half in his uniform; the leather jacket is thrown over the back of the couch along with the multitude of holsters. He walks up like nothing in the world is wrong and leans in to kiss you.

You turn your head. His lips land on the corner of your mouth. He grips your chin in gloved hands and turns you back to him to steal the kiss you don’t want to give.

“Stop.” You shove his hand down.

“What’s wrong?” Judging blue-green eyes look you up and down underneath a furrowed brow and a curl of white. You roll your eyes and push past him, not bothering to be pleasant when your shoulder meets his arm.

He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t reach out. Just stands there, staring at you as you head to the wardrobe by your bed and rip out clothes to wear.

He takes a few steps and stops by the kitchen counter. There’s no space to hide in the studio apartment except the bathroom, so you gather your clothes to take them in there to change. He blocks your path. “What’s wrong?” He asks, again. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.” You could cut skin with the sharpness in your tone. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Here, I think,” he says. “If you don’t want to talk –”

“I don’t,” you snap. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed, so can you get out of the way and go do your stupid – whatever it is you fucking do, Jason!”

That’s not how you meant for it to come out, but you don’t come to that realization until too late – by then his eyes are narrowed with hurt and his fists are clenched at his sides, his mouth closed tightly, his feet taking a step back for you to move past. You don’t, not right away, frozen with the fear in your gut that you just fucked up something.

Jason lifts his hand, gestures for you to walk. It hurts your entire body to take that step.

You watch from the bathroom door as he clips on his holsters. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He nods, pulls on his jacket. “Okay.”

Okay is a brick to the head. You watch him put on the mask, and the Jason you know disappears. The Red Hood looks at you for a moment before leaving through the fire escape. You fucked up.

─── ⋆⋅❤︎⋅⋆ ───

Sleep doesn’t come until the sun does. You spent the night waiting for Jason to return, but he never does, and you fall asleep with tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes just as the morning light is peeking through your window. Hours later, after nightmares that have nothing to do with him, you wake up to the smell of coffee wafting through your apartment, and the sounds of the street below – cars honking, people talking and laughing. Music plays from somewhere and knocks on your skull, furthering the birth of a headache.

“Good morning,” Jason says dully.

You sit up halfway and frown at him in the armchair by the window. He’s out of uniform, now in a black tank top and a pair of black sweats. You want to admire his arms and chest, the muscles and the scars that mark him, tell his story…but you can’t, not now. There’s a new injury, still red and raw, on the knuckles of his right hand.

There’s also a tray of food on your nightstand, where the coffee you smelled in your sleep sits next to a plate of french toast and a bowl of berries sprinkled with sugar. You glance at it.

Jason frowns. “Or, good afternoon. Sleep bad?”

You sit up more, pulling your knees in. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” you say, voice breaking. “I’m really – I didn’t mean it, Jay. I’m really sorry.”

He nods. “I think you meant it.”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop the tears that bubble at the corners of your eyes. You shake your head, and open your mouth to say no, you didn’t, that you were just angry at everything in that moment, but he speaks first.

“It’s okay.” Jason runs a finger absentmindedly over his injured knuckles as his gaze remains on you. “I figure it’s not easy. I didn’t think we’d get this far, honestly. I thought you’d be tired of me.”

“I’m not,” you rush out with a choke.

He nods again. You’re beginning to hate that, but you say nothing, instead squeezing the fabric of your blanket to hold back your fears. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you are. We can…” His voice trails off and his gaze drops away from you to the floor. “Stop here, if you want. It might be better for you.”

“No.” You sound like a toy with a broken squeaker. You swallow, clear your throat, fight the tremble in your body to repeat the words, firmer and more sure. “No. I don’t want to stop here.”

Jason’s eyes jump back up to meet yours. “Are you sure?”

“Very. I'm sorry,” you say, more confident now as his gaze softens. “I didn't mean it, Jay, really. I've just…it's been a shitty week. I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

“Oh.” Surprise flashed over his face. “Next time just tell me. I can help you…with your frustrations.”

The breakfast he brought sits at the back of your mind. You don't think that's what he meant, not with the way his mouth curls around his final words. “Where'd you get breakfast?” You ask.

“That place downtown. Remember the one on the water we went to last month?”

“You went all the way downtown to get me breakfast?” A soft laugh escapes your lips, something you didn't think possible moments ago. Then it hits you. “Did you think I was mad at you?”

Jason stands up suddenly and stops by the bed, towering over you and blotting out the sun with his broad frame. The weight of the morning seems to lift from your shoulders at the delicious sight of him, and you can finally take him in as he deserves, dragging your eyes down from the scar on his cheek to his body, muscle rippling under tanned skin. The autopsy scar cuts across his chest and dips under the dark fabric of his fitted tank. You stop short of the waistband of his sweats and wrench your eyes back up. The ache between your thighs demands otherwise, however.

“I guess I should make it up to you. Last night.” You run your fingers lightly down his arm, tracing over a vein that runs down his forearm, until you reach his hand. You take it in yours and press your lips just above his knuckles. ‘What would you like?”

Jason smirks. “I was thinking the opposite. Gonna take care of you, get your mind off whatever's pissing you off.”

You blink up at him. “What? No. I was…I was mean. I should –”

His large hand keeps you in place as it grips your cheeks and his mouth crashes on yours, silencing any protest you might have had left. Spit connects your lips as he breaks from you. “Lay down,” he orders, breath hot on your skin.

You throw yourself back onto the pillows. Jason grins, a dark look in his eyes, one you've come to know well. You've wondered before if it's the same look he gets when he's on the streets at night, but you hope not.

“Uh-uh, princess. On your stomach.”

You roll onto your belly without second thought, sticking your ass in the air for him. Your attire is far from sexy, an oversized shirt (Jason's) and a pair of pajama bottoms that hang off your hips, but he quickly remedies that problem by tugging off your shirt before pulling down your pants, leaving you in nothing but gray cotton panties. He snaps the band once before slipping them down your ass and legs.

If he was being honest, he'd admit this was his favorite view, you ass up, face down, pussy already slick with arousal. Yeah, he likes all versions of you, but this one hits him differently, twisting his stomach into anxious knots and rushing all blood to his cock. He strains against his sweats, has to fight the urge to stuff you full of him this very second.

Jason swallows. “Keep that ass up,” he instructs, lifting off his own shirt now. You bite your bottom lip, savoring the reveal of his upper body. He places a knee on the edge of the bed and moves out of view, positioning himself behind you.

“You want to tell me…” His breath brushes over your slit, hot and cold at the same time. “What happened? Why are you so upset?” He blows gently on your clit, sending a shock through your body. You push back in an attempt to connect with his mouth but he pulls away.

“It’s stupid…it’s not – ah…” Cheek pressed into the pillow, your gasp is still audible enough to motivate his tongue, causing it to dart out from his lips to flick your clit again. His hands keep you in place with a solid grasp on the back of your thighs, preventing you from trying once more to quicken his pace.

Another lick, this one longer, slicking up through your folds. Your eyelids flutter, mouth suspended in a moan against the flower-patterned pillowcase. In an effort to keep still, you squeeze the life out of the pillow as your core burns with impatience.

This time Jason’s tongue presses inside, deep enough you feel the tip of his nose against your slit. One hand lets go of your thigh so he can press the pad of his thumb to your clit, making small, teasing circles. His tongue retreats and you nearly cry. “If it’s stupid, then why take it out on me?”

The question ruins the work he’s doing. Your cheeks flush red, guilt bubbling in your stomach. “I shouldn’t have,” you say. “The week – rough mm –”

His tongue shoves back inside your heat as he works his thumb with more sincerity, clearly seeking to see you undone. Your body trembles in his grip and the fight to keep still and not shove your whole cunt in his face starts to feel impossible. His hand brushes up your thigh to cup your ass, lifting you higher for him. “Make you feel better,” he whispers, the words vibrating against your pussy. “You want that? Kiss away your problems.”

You mumble against the pillow. “Uh-huh…I want…”

Jason runs a finger through your folds, teasing the entrance with the thick digit, and lowers his lips to capture your swollen clit in them. “Mm. What do you want, princess?”

“Jay.” At the moment you want to kick him, make him stop teasing with his fingers threatening to sink inside your heat but never making the connection, his lips brushing your clit, every word a jolt that doesn’t complete. You whine, squirming in his grip. He tightens his hold on you in response and pulls his mouth away from your cunt completely…to bite you on the fat of your ass.

You cry out, jerk your head around to glare at him. “What the fuck, Jason?”

Jason smirks, kissing the same spot. Heat emanates from the mark left behind by his teeth, a pulsating type of warmth that echoes in your core. It felt…good, maybe. But you don't want him to know.

“What do you want?” He repeats the question with his lips pressing your ass again, teeth scraping the skin like a threat.

He always does this – wants you to say it. Exposed as you are, arousal dripping down your thighs in his face, you still find it difficult to get the words out. Clothes on, maybe you've got an attitude – last night proved that completely – but like this, under him? You whine into the pillow. All that does is get him to sink his teeth into your soft flesh again, this time the back of your thigh. Your walls clench desperately around nothing.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumble, whiny and feeling hot.

The tip of his finger presses inside your slit. You inhale, forget to exhale, as he takes his time sinking into you. “Like this?” He drags his finger almost out. You tighten around the digit instinctively, refusing to let go even though it's not exactly what you're looking for. This ache cries for something bigger, deeper.

Jason adds a second finger and scissors them in your cunt, stretching you out. His other fingers pinch your clit lightly. “So wet,” he whispers, almost too low for you to hear. “For me. All this…huh…”

You try to glance back, realizing he is talking to himself. He mumbles against your cunt words you can't make out, and fuck if it doesn't stoke the fire in your belly, the way his lips wrap your clit with intent, fingers fucking into you slowly, coiling you tight. He moans as he sucks. You watch him through clouded eyes, his free hand palming the front of his sweats, his cock in desperate need of some friction.

“Jay, please,” you whisper. Why is your voice breaking? “Fuck me now. I’m sorry.”

He pulls his fingers free, leaving you empty, and runs both hands up your thighs to your lower back as he gets up on his knees. The touch continues up your spine and guides you to flatten on the bed with your thighs pressed together, your skin soaked. He leans to whisper in your ear. “I know. It’s okay.” He sighs, and presses his lips to your neck. “You scared me. I’ve never…” He laughs softly, shifting above you as he pushes down his sweatpants. The bed shifts but he keeps you in place, sits on the back of your thighs, and kisses your cheek. “Never been scared like that.”

You twist to look up at him but can barely turn halfway with his weight holding you down. “I won’t do it again. Promise,” you say.

Jason says nothing. There’s no smile on his lips, but a tender look in his eyes remains locked on your face. He swallows. “I…” His mouth hangs open, a thought just on the tip of his tongue that doesn’t complete. Lips move, but nothing comes out.

“What?” You run your fingers up his arm, his hands on either side of you the only piece you can comfortably reach.

He exhales shakily. “I…uh, you’re beautiful.” He wets his lips before leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Gorgeous. Can’t wait to make you a fucking mess.”

You roll your eyes. Jason straightens up and places a hand on your lower back as the other grips his cock. The tip nudges your entrance, and you arch and lift as best you can to urge him on. He fills you achingly slow, spreading you open and stealing your breath until he bottoms out. His hips sit flush against your ass as he gathers your hair in one fist, tugging it gently out of the way for him to press his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His teeth sink in – this time there isn’t an ounce of protest in your cry and your walls clench around him as he leaves his mark. His hips pull back and snap forward roughly, slamming the head of his cock into your cervix. You grab onto his hand where it fists the mattress for stability as he repeats the move. He flattens his hand and laces his fingers through yours.

The bed creaks underneath you, the headboard smacking the wall almost as loud as the sound of skin meeting skin and the squelch of your needy cunt. Jason fucks a quick rhythm, hardly pulling out enough and never leaving you empty, like he can't stand the feeling of being apart from you right now. Neither can you, your walls clenching around his cock every slight draw backwards, slick coating his length. You squirm, make small circles with your hips that pull groans deep from his throat.

“Fuck yes,” Jason pants, pulling on your hair and lifting your head from the pillow. He watches where his cock is sucked into your greedy hole, mesmerized with how well you take him, how you can't keep still because you need him that bad. “That's good, baby…don't stop. That's a good girl…” He leans forward for another taste, biting into your shoulder as his pace shortens, thrusts becoming animalistic and hard.

Your lungs constrict, hardly able to suck down air from his weight on you, and moving becomes impossible. He jerks on your hair to expose your neck further to him and give his teeth purchase on your throat. Your hand almost breaks from his – would have, if he doesn't tighten his hand around yours the moment he feels you try to pull away. His cock grinds against your cervix with overwhelming pressure. You squeeze your eyes shut, crying out with pleasure. Another sink of his teeth in your neck has your legs trembling as the orgasm rocks your body, release dripping from your swollen cunt to soak your thighs and the sheets.

Jason grunts close to your ear. “Close, baby – fuck.” Lips press your cheek. His breath burns your already feverish skin. His words are strained, caught between heavy breaths. “Where…do you want – ahh – want me? Tell me, baby.”

“Inside,” you choke out. The single word is a spell that undoes him. His body shudders under climax, cock desperate to press as deep inside you as possible as he comes. Inside your core it's hot, close to burning, as you clench around his twitching length. You can feel it, his release coating your walls, overflowing to drip down and mix with your fluids on the bed.

Jason rests his head on the pillow next to yours. Your hands, palms sweaty, remain tangled together, but you make no effort to pull them apart now. Instead you let your eyes close as you relish in the full feeling of him still inside you. Gradually his cock softens but stays snug, and you could almost fall asleep like this…if it wasn't for the need to breathe.

Jason, on the other hand, seems to have gotten too comfortable. He snores softly next to your ear, and you almost feel guilty jostling him awake. “Jay. Jay, can't breathe.”

He groans as he lifts himself, cock slipping free at last with a soft plop that reddens your cheeks. You startle as you feel his fingers brush your sore slit. He mumbles to himself.

“Stop,” you say, shivering. Not that you don't want it, but…you feel too exposed like this, knowing he's devouring you with his eyes, taking in the mess he's made.

Jason leans to kiss your cheek. “Sorry. Let me get you cleaned up.”

“No.” It comes out so fast, surprising both of you. You turn onto your back, self-conscious of the dripping down your ass when you do. “It's fine. I'll take a shower later. Just lay down for now.”

The bed shifts as he collapses next to you, pulling you into his arms. You nuzzle his chest and find his heart beat, still fast, not yet come down completely. His fingers make lazy circles on your arm. You want to sleep, but any thought of it seems to have faded, and all you can think about now is staying in this moment.

“Do you work tonight?” Jason asks.

“No.” You match his circles with traces of your own, going over the scars on his chest with light fingertips. “I took a sick day. Go back in Tuesday.”

He inhales deep and sighs, rolling you with the motion. “I won't go out tonight,” he says. “There's nothing…important. I'll stay here, if that's okay with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that's alright.” You prop your chin on his chest to look up at his face. His smile is soft, dreamlike. “Where do you live anyway?”

Jason shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a couple places.”

“Oh, really? Is one of them, like, an abandoned warehouse? A cardboard box under a bridge?”

He laughs. “You think I'm homeless?”

You hadn't really thought about it before, but the signs are there. “You always shower here. Your clothes are here, your toothbrush, and I've never seen your place…you just appear out of nowhere. I mean, shoe fits.”

“I like it better here,” he says.

“Then why not stay?”

He shrugs again, but this time it's almost sheepish the way he glances away, like he can't look at you. “Stay,” you say, before he can object, find some excuse. “I mean it. Move in with me. You pretty much live here anyway.”

Jason reaches to the tray on the nightstand and picks up the cup. He takes a sip and frowns before replacing it on the tray. “Coffee's cold. Let me up so I can make a new pot.” He starts to sit up, pulling his arm away and letting you fall softly to the pillow.

You stare at his scarred back as he tugs on his sweats again. “Jason, we're talking.”

He shakes his head. “Later. I have to think about it.”

Maybe an hour ago he was upset because you hadn't talked to him, hadn't told him what was wrong. He'd been scared. And now you can only stare at him in the kitchen, scooping coffee grounds into a thrift store coffee maker. You don't reach out. You don't know what you're supposed to say.

You say nothing. A scream bubbles in your gut but goes nowhere.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Fifty Two)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Fifty Two: Cillian returns from his Oscars trip, and Y/N is so happy he's home. But after a nap on the sofa to recharge his batteries, Cillian wakes up with what seems to be a dose of flu or a heavy cold. Y/N leaves him to sleep alone and finds herself recalling the day she met Cillian's sons for the first time as their Dad's girlfriend. By the time Friday morning arrives, nerves are ignited for the scan. [Fluff/Whump/Mild Anxiety]

@cherrycilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @borntodiemp3 @strangeions @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01

Cillian's homecoming, whilst unceremonious, is a relief. He ambles through the door with his case and an exhausted but a little bit sun-kissed face. His kiss is sweet, his arms are warm, and then he immediately demands a sofa nap and for you to fuck off. You oblige, and leave him to kip for a while. Even with his trip being short, he needs the adjustment time. He is wired and tired at the same time, complaining of ‘just feeling drained’ and socially he has had his fill for a month, you know. You continued working whilst he dozed and, when you reappeared later that evening, you found him balled up on the sofa and absolutely loaded with a cold. He is miserable - eyes red, face pale, and throat sore to the point he sounds husky and as sick as he looks. 

“Can I get you anything?” You ask, running your hand through his hair where he lay with his head against the seat of the sofa, close to the outside wall that leads into the kitchen. 

“Nah,” he croaks, then coughs loudly. It barks through his chest. 

“Oh, love, you sound terrible.” You stick out your bottom lip sympathetically. “What about some honey and hot water? It'll soothe your throat a bit.” 

He shakes his head against the cushion. “I want a fag but it can't even be fucked getting up.” He sounds very sorry for himself, but you can feel the heat of his temperature from the top of his head. 

“Well that won't help you anyway!” You tut. “Have some paracetamol at least, get your temperature down a bit.” He isn't helping himself at all, curled up there with a sweater on and the throw from the back of the sofa over his legs. “I'll get the paracetamol, and some water.” You say and tap your fingers against his head gently before you walk away. When you return, he has pushed himself to sit up with his back into the sofa, but he looks even worse. His cheeks are rosy and at the same time he looks deathly pale. You hold out your offerings - two pre-popped pills and a tall glass of water. He takes them gratefully but holds them without any action. “What's up?” You ask. 

“I think I'm gonna be sick.” He says, and huffs a breath out through pursed lips. 

You cringe in solidarity. “It's your temperature, love.” you sigh. “Go and stand outside, get that jumper off. If you throw up out there, you're alright and if you don't at least you'll be cooling down.” 

“I feel too dizzy.” He moans, then sort of laughs at himself. 

You give him another sad face. “It's all down to your temperature, Cill. Get your jumper off.” 

“I don't want to move, I'll get sick.” He sighs, closing his eyes. 

You disappear back to the kitchen for a moment, and return with the washing up bowl from the sink. “Well, if you're going to puke, aim for there. But please, love, take the jumper off.” You place the bowl into his lap and take the glass and tablets from his hands. You watch as he pulls pained and uncomfortable faces but does as you've told him, ripping the thick sweatshirt off over his head. He tosses the jumper off to the side and then grips the bowl on his lap as he sits back, bringing it up beneath his chin. You grimace, bracing for him to vomit. He wretches once, groaning painfully, then sighs as the feeling evidently fades away. 

“Ugh, this is disgusting.” He moans, and his voice scratches from his throat roughly. 

“Aeroplanes are notorious for spreading bugs, love, and you've been surrounded by people for a few days.” You say. 

“But the scan is Friday. I can't be gross, I wanna see her.. I don't want to miss it, Y/N.” He sounds so husky and sad, and rests his head back against the sofa, then coughs harshly. 

“Well, drink this and swallow these if you don't think you'll throw them back. Then go up to bed. I'll sleep in one of the boys’ rooms tonight.” You say, holding out the glass and pills to him. He takes them silently, pulling a face as he sits up again. He swallows the tablets slowly, not wanting to sicken himself, and holds the glass as he rests back again. 

“I don't want to get you sick too, but I want you beside me.” He sighs, and gives a comical, halfhearted smile. 

You smile back, “If you're this poorly, Cill, then as much as I love you, I do not want it.” 

He sighs, “Ah I know. I'll go up to bed,” he says, “I'm bringing this.” He taps the washing up bowl then slowly gets to his feet. He is wobbly as he stands and you feel badly for him. He isn't one to get wiped out with over dramatic responses to minor illnesses, and you know if he's responding this way then he genuinely does feel this unwell. You keep your eyes on him as he heads up the stairs, water and bowl at hand, and you wait until you hear the bedroom door shutting tightly before you decide you can relax a little. 

When you head to bed yourself later on, a little after nine, you bring the box of paracetamol with you. You head straight for your bedroom and open the door quietly. The TV is on, but Cillian is panned out across the bed on his belly, facing away from you, but snoring lightly in his snotty existence. The washing up bowl and glass of water are on your nightstand, and while the water is halfway gone, the bowl has also been decorated with at least a mouthful of vomit. You grimace as you pick it up, placing the paracetamol beside the water, and take the bowl with you into the bathroom. You wash it out in the bath, rinse it thoroughly, and give it a quick spray with disinfectant sitting on the windowsil before rinsing again. You're just as quiet returning to the room, and place the bowl back onto the nightstand. He's still sleeping, still snoring, and you consider it's the best thing for him if he's so poorly. 

You take a pair of pyjamas from the dresser and your phone charger from beside the bed, and take yourself into Malachy's room. Though you wonder if it'll remain Malachy's room for much longer - one of the rooms will have to be taken over for Clíodhna, and it might as well be that one. You shut the door behind yourself and look around the sizable space. Malachy rarely stays these days, of course, but it does have his stamp on it - a few photographs, an iPod dock that was rarely touched nowadays, and a stack of DVDs beside the TV. You throw your pyjamas on to the bed and sit down on the edge. You did miss the earlier period of time when Malachy and Aran would stay more, if you admitted it to yourself. Cillian was always in a great mood when the boys were around, and he was so proud of them for slipping into a new way of life the way they had with you and him. The nights the four of you would spend eating pizza and watching awful films were some of your favourites in that adjustment period, and you hoped that you'd get nights like that with your little girl as she grew. But your mind falls back further as you spot the photo of Cillian and a very young Malachy and Aran on the dresser near the TV. You remember when you first met the boys, and it feels like a lifetime ago….

It's been over thirty minutes since Cillian was supposed to meet you, and the coffee shop above Eason's is filling up. You check your phone for a message you know you haven't received. He'd only gone to get the boys, promised to meet you, and still he wasn't here - he knew you were nervous, fearful even, of what they were going to think. It's only been, in the grand scheme of things, a few short months since Cillian and Yvonne had separated, and you suspect this is the last thing the kids want to be doing, but you know it's important to him. You do consider texting, asking if everything's alright and giving him the option to arrange it for another time, but as you pick up your phone for a second time, you look up at the movement of bodies through the entrance into the cafe and see him there - and his boys trail behind him with grumpy faces. They're not little kids, but they're smaller than you'd expected, somehow. Younger. And you feel horrible. In some strange move, you stand up as Cillian raises his eyebrows and juts his chin by way of a hello, and he and the boys walk towards you. 

Cillian looks tired, flustered, but beautiful in his green quilted jacket, blue hoodie, and black jeans. His hair is blown around and teased by the wind. He shoves the aviator glasses in his hands into his jacket pocket. Aran and Malachy come to a halt behind their Dad as Cillian stops just in front of the four seater table you're at. “Sorry,” he tuts, “We got on the Luas and it was a fucking nightmare.” 

“Where's the car?” You ask, frowning, still standing and not sure what to do with your hands. 

“Back at Yvonne's…” he shrugs. After a moment of looking at you nervously, he turns to face his sons. “So, eh…,” he claps his hand down onto the shoulder of the lad closest. “This is Aran. And this is Malachy.” He looks back at you and smiles awkwardly. “And this is Y/N.” He gestures towards you with his free hand. 

“Hi,” you offer a weak wave, and try to smile without feeling so sick. “Good to meet you both.” Aran offers a small, closed-lipped smile in return and Malachy nods his head; his smile is a little more sincere but it isn't wide. 

“Right, here, sit down,” Cillian nods to the table. “You want a drink?” He turns back to his boys. Both nod their heads but say nothing. “Y/N, green tea, yeah?” He smiles at you.

“Yeah, thanks love.” You smile, and out of the corner of your eye you see Aran's eyes narrow drastically. Your stomach flips over and you feel your face flushing - shit, will Cillian talk to you about that later? He smiles at you, though, before he disappears towards the counter near the entrance way. You stand awkwardly, looking between the boys and towards Cillian's back, and then slowly lower yourself back into your chair. It occurs to you that at the square table, either Cillian will be beside you - which may weird the boys out - or one of them will have to sit there, and you're not sure they'll like that. 

After a moment, Malachy sits down in the chair directly opposite you. You remember that Cillian had told you he was fifteen - you think - and looking at him you can see he has his Dad's features in some ways. Aran does too, but in an entirely different way. Malachy smiles at you, but you can see he feels awkward. But, with his older brother seated, Aran seems more comfortable sitting down, too, and he drops into the seat beside Malachy with a flop. You can't help looking between them, sporting all the ‘Cillian things’ you can. Aran has his facial structure a little more, you consider, and the spacing between his eyes, while Malachy has his eye shape, and holds his face in the same tensed way that Cillian doesn't times, sharpening his jaw. You wonder what they'll tell their mother, what they think of you, and what they think that they think of you from the coverage of you and Cillian you know exists online. 

“So…” you shrug. “It wasn't fun on the Luas?” Stupid fucking question, you curse yourself, they're kids, what to they care?! 

“Just busy,” Malachy says. “And it stresses Dad out when there's loads of people, he gets all…overstimulated.” He smirks and Aran laughs lightly beside him. You suspect Cillian may have been a bit of a stress head in the journey into the city centre and you're almost sorry you've missed it! Malachy then proceeds to do what you immediately glean to be an impression of Cillian, swearing and pulling faces that makes Aran laugh again. You smile at the scene, even though you're entirely out of the loop. 

You look up as Cillian approaches with two cans of Fanta in his hands and a small wooden sign with the number eight on. He sets the cans down before his sons, leaning into the table from behind them, and places the number in the middle before he walks around and sits in the seat beside you. “They'll bring ‘em over.” He says as he shifts his chair slightly. Under the table, he rests his hand against your thigh. It's instantly grounding, but you're consumed by worry that you'll do anything to make the boys uncomfortable. 

“They…um, we're just saying that you didn't like the Luas.” You babble awkwardly. Why does this feel so hard? 

Cillian tuts and rolls his eyes, “Ah, sure…” he shakes his head and smirks. “I dunno why I decided it'd be the best idea. It's a kip at the best of times, but on a weekend it's worse than the Tube.” he sighs. “And didn't we nearly end up in Dundrum.” He widens his eyes, “Got off and switched, but…” 

“And you called that guy a wanker.” Malachy scoffs, laughing loudly into his can. 

“You didn't?” You turn to look at Cillian, eyebrows high. “Cill!” 

“Under me breath, like,” Cillian laughs at himself. “He didn't fecking hear me. And can you stop grassing me up?!” he looks back at Malachy, shaking his head. “Anyway, did you two have anything to ask, or is there anything you've heard recently that you want Y/N and me to clear up about…the two of us, and eh, and who she is?” He's suddenly serious, suddenly sober, and there's an authoritative but respectful manner to his voice that you're surprised by. He addresses his sons as little men, not as unthinking babies, and while he commands a level of  respect in his tone, he is also offering it, too. 

The boys look at one another, and you and their Dad, at their hands, their drinks, into the near distance… they do anything other than speak up.

“You can ask anything you like,” you say, “I don't mind.” You're not sure if your opinion matters to them, but you offer your words anyway. 

After a moment, Aran looks at you squarely. “Your Dad's girlfriend?” He says, and while you're sure it's a question it sounds more like a statement. 

You nod your head. “Yes,” you say quietly. Cillian's hand moves lightly over your thigh. It's soothing, but your anxiety is not in the least bit calmed. 

“I read something,” Malachy sniffs. Cillian nods his head slowly. “It called you a homewrecker.” Malachy continues, and Cillian winces. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I've read that too. I understand it - your Mum and Dad had a long marriage, and your Dad has a lot of people who admire him, evidently. I didn't expect that the reception would be cheerful, and I'm sorry for the things you're probably seeing about your Dad online right now.” 

“Nah,” Malachy continues, “I just mean, Dad had already split up with Mum, so it ain't like you did anything wrong other than go out with him. Though I don't know why you'd want to do that, anyway.” He smirks, and there again is that face like his father. 

You laugh a little, amused at the young man's sense of humour. He has Cillian's comical timing - a thing you'd found with many an Irishman you'd come into contact with - and he grins like him, too. “Well, he has his good points.” You tease. 

“Yeah, don't tell me about them.” Malachy widens his eyes and lifts his can to his lips. 

You all fall quiet when a young waitress arrives carrying two mugs. “Green tea?” She says in a thick north Dublin accent. You smile and she sets the mug before you, “And camomile.” She says, and leans across the table to place it before Cillian. “Enjoy.” She mutters as she walks away. 

“Anything else to ask, Aran? Anything bothering you?” Cillian asks. He wraps his fingers around the handle of his mug. Aran shakes his head slowly. “Sure?” Cillian presses. Again, Aran shakes his head. “Now's the time, bud.” Cillian insists, but again he's both respectful and authoritative. “I mean you can talk to me whenever, you know that, but we're all here now if you've anything to get out.” 

Aran sighs and purses his lips. “You're gonna get married now?” 

“No,” Cillian shakes his head immediately, “Your Mum and I are still married for a start, I mean eventually we won't be but we are now. And Y/N and I are…only getting to know each other.” He says and you're surprised by his ease. 

“Why? Did you want to be the best man?” Malachy quips, and Cillian chuckles into his cup, mid-sip. 

“Shut up.” Aran huffs, digging his elbow into Malachy's arm. 

“Eh!” Malachy raises his eyebrows, gestures both hands at his little brother, and stares at his Dad. “Did y’see that? This is what I'm living with, Dad!” 

“Ah stop it now. Don't be winding him up,” Cillian shakes his head, speaking calmly. “Aran, don't be hitting at him.” 

You smile as the boys proceed to beat one another with open palms, laughing as they get one up on each other each time. You turn your head to Cillian, who's staring at them with an amused frown and shaking his head. You can see the love, and the pride, and it endears you to him even more. 

.........You sigh yourself back to reality, looking around the bedroom again. You're not sure how Malachy will feel, but you're sure you want this room for Clíodhna when the time comes. It feels nice in here, and that's got to be a good sign. You get yourself undressed and pull on your pyjamas, leaving your clothes in the floor by the dresser. You hope that by the morning Cillian is at least broken from his temperature and feeling a little better, and you hope harder he's feeling well enough to come with you to the scan on Friday. It'll be special, seeing the baby that way, but it'll also be terrifying if it identifies anything with your little girl. You know you don't want to be alone for that, for all of that. 

When Friday arrives, though still heavily blocked up and huskier than ever, Cillian seems to be feeling much better. He hasn't smoked a cigarette in two days and, with the best of intentions, has promised he won't restart. You're hopeful, but you're not holding him to it. Mostly though, upon Friday's arrival, Cillian is just glad he's not feeling so horrendous that he can't come with you for the scan. He's excited about it, but he's nervous too, and you're almost glad that he is - it feels validating to you that he shares your exact emotions on something for once rather than just trying to understand them. Sitting together on the sofa, still in your pyjamas and with a coffee each in hand, you can tell Cillian is feeling better by the fact that he's finding himself hilarious as he talks to your belly. As you sit in the corner of the sofa, he's sitting cross legged to your left with an arched back and his face up close to your exposed bump. He'd pushed your pyjama top up so that the baby could hear him, apparently, as he explained the rules of camogie. But it was when he got a little sentimental, and a little serious, that you found yourself desperately more in love with him. Coffee in his right hand and his left on your tummy, he began to repeat a children's rhyme in Irish. 

“Cupán domsa, cupán duitse, crúsca mór lán le huise, spúnóg domsa, spúnóg duitse, uachtar reoite agus briosca…” he looks up at you by lifting his face slightly and smiles cheekily. Sitting up, straightening his back and drawing his hand back from your belly, he smiles a little wider. “What?”  he laughs, then covers his mouth as he coughs.

“That's adorable,” you smile, feeling a little tearful. It's made more special, though, by the fact that you could feel the baby shifting about a little more as he had been talking. 

He laughs a little, then coughs slightly again, *Ah here, if you heard it in English you'd change your mind. It's only cute because you don't understand it!” He brings his mug to his lips and sips quietly, wincing as he swallows and it grazes his sore throat. “Don't ask for a translation,” he says, swallowing again with a pained face. “It'll ruin it.” He smiles. 

“She liked it,” you smile at him brightly.  

He nods his head with a loving smile, “I could feel her.” He sounds so in love with her, and you're swept away by every bit of interaction he has with your stomach, anything that puts him closer to your little girl.

“I can't believe we'll be able to see her face in 3D today. It's crazy. I looked at 3D scans online.” You shake your head, “Cill, they're so detailed. We'll be able to see her features, her little hands and toes!” 

“We'll get plenty of prints, and bring some around to the boys.” He says with wide eyes. “Prove to Mal there's no fucking mickey in there.” He laughs lightly.

“If it turns out we've been saying girl these last few weeks, and it's actually a boy, it'd be so funny.” You chuckle. 

“Your one was certain,” Cillian smirks, and sips at his coffee again. “And I remember with the boys, like it was fairly fucking clear there were wee langers there.” He laughs at himself. “I think Aran was even having a tug at one point.” 

“Oh, Cill, stop!” You close your eyes to his comment, but you can't help laughing. You sober up quickly though, as you remember what this scan is actually about. “What if they find something with her?” You ask him. “Something wrong with her organs, or her body, or that she's sick in some way?” 

He looks back at you quietly, and his cheerful expression slowly drops to a more somber one. “Nothing changes.” He says and shrugs a little. “I mean, if it's serious and there's…things they want to do, I don't know. I don't know what happens then, Y/N. But, like, her arm looking a wee bit different, or a thing they can fix when she arrives… we'll love her the fucking same. Nothing changes.” He insists. “And what do I keep telling ya?” He raises his eyebrows. “Whatever happens… yeah?” You flatten your lips into a thin line as he stares at you, waiting for your response. Nodding silently, you sigh. “Don't be worrying yourself sick,” he says, his huskier voice in a whisper. “I'm here with ya.” 

.

[starrylayle]

literally nobody has asked for this but,,, i'm currently writing a monster high fic!! It's an AU that's basically a mash of each generation -- because i feel like each generation has something to offer in terms worldbuilding and charcterisation ( yes -- even g2 loll).

It's gonna be Jackson and Holt centred + the main ghouls because i said so!! And I plan on doing alot of the worldbuilding coz i feel like the canon worldbuilding is so inconsistent?? Like do they live amongst humans?? or in an alternate dimension?? how do these relations works?? i want more monster politics and lore please!!

Also basically everyone will be some sort of queer because i am physically incapable of writing cishet ppl.

Would anyone be interest in reading smth like by any chance? or should i just leave it in the drafts lol

[hermitcraftx]

just got a dm abt one of my posts and y'all please don't try and show the hermits (or any minecraft youtuber or content creator for that matter) my posts, i'm uncomfortable with it and don't want any of my posts shown to a cc. if they stumble upon it naturally that's unfortunate but i can live with it since i do maintag a lot (something i REALLY need to stop doing tbh i already know i need to make a tagging system just for my blog that wont clog results) but going out of ur way to show a cc is entirely different and something i am not comfortable with.

no hate to the person at all but even if i wasn't a little silly and weird with it sometimes i wouldn't be comfortable with it, i want my blog to be a purely fandom only space with none of the creators involved <3 please respect this

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[httpscameron]

simon sorts a drunk out for you.

you worked as a bartender, it was at a nice little pub in between towns in the country, it was charming and did what it needed to do. during the day youd get your families and when it would get late the usual regulars who were most likely avoiding their wives or coming home from work would pop in for a pint or five.

it was a sunday night and a slow one at that, a few of the army men from the base close by had popped in. stleast you could count on them to busy it up and make it look lively in here.

there was a regular that you didnt particularly like, when hed have a few on board hed get alot more aggressive and demanding. you were serving one of the soliders, he was tall and intimidating but you chose not to look into it. they all were in some aspect except for john, well price but he lets you call him john he always tipped you even though tipping is unnecessary.

“come on love, let me take you home.” the drunk said his brows furrowing now, you told him no nearly five times now and had refused him service due to the state he was in but he wouldnt cease.

you tried to focus on the customer infront of you, pouring his pint, “is he botherin’ ye?” he muttered gruffly. his wallet in his hand getting ready to get the five pound note out to pay for the drink.

“he’ll eventually stumble his way out if i ignore him long enough.” you muttered trying to sound somewhat in control of the situation but god do you wish he would hurry up and leave.

“me an’ the guys can sort ‘im out if ye want?” he asked his tone a little lower. the drunk piping up again.

“look at me, not him, youre coming home with me tonight, i told you.” he says his fist drunkly smacking against the bar, his words slurring together being barely audible.

you shouldnt really but the drunk was making it uncomfortable for everyone in here now. “please?” you muttered to the solider. he nodded,

“cmon then,” he walked over to the drunk looping his arm around the drunks. “lets go.” he says in a huff as he drags him out of the pub, dropping him on his arse on the pavement outside. a few harsh words could be heard outside and maybe a rough punch but as far as your concerned not in your pub not your business.

when the solider returns you give him a smile and a free extra pint. he just gives you a nodd as he took the two pints. “thank you.” you say to him in graditude.

“yer welcome, let me know he causes ye trouble again? yeah? keep yerself safe love.”

after that the drunk didnt return but the solider who you learn to be simon does.

masterlist

[itsoutrageouss]

Part four of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley seeing you cry for the first time, due to demand which I am (so) grateful for. Simon’s accidentally a little mean at the wrong time lol- readers on her period.

It’s the second time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that he looses himself into some kind of caretaker instinct.

The last time it had happened, it was after a brutal mission where he’d found you as a crying heap on the floor. So naturally his heart started pounding painfully in his chest when he creaked the door open to your room and saw you curled in bed, sniffling softly.

Once again the vulnerability you showed seemed to hurl him away like a storm. It was such a precious, private side of you and he wanted to go on his knees for you in thanks for allowing him to see it.

He’s by your side with three stalking striders, crouching down next to the bed. His hand hovers over your waist, then your shoulder, then your face because he doesn’t know if he can, or even where he should touch you right now, your shoulders shaking as your head nuzzles into your tear stained pillow.

“Hey. Stop.” He says, voice almost holding a small tremble, laced with panic because as much as he adored this side of you, he wanted you to smile again. Please?

You didn’t respond, only curled further away like an uninterested cat. He frowns and then grabs your neck, gently turning it until you meet his gaze. He wants to gasp at how pretty you look with glistening, red cheeks and glossy eyes, lashes sticking together as you pout at him.

“What is it lovie?” The nickname slips before he knows how to stop it and he winces internally, tensing. But it seems to coax you to nuzzle your face into his hand instead, and he keeps it completely still, scared that a single movement would scare you away. He feels your cold cheek press into his palm, itching to curl his fingers into the soft skin.

“Nothing” you whine.

He huffs. Jesus Christ.

“Nothing, yeah? That’ why you’re crying like a baby?” He smiles, eyes crinkling behind the mask but yours have closed and he sees your face contort into more sadness, more crying and his eyes go wide, immediately holding you a little tighter.

“No! No, shit, sweet’eart it was a joke” he says quickly, voice urgent. You usually took all his teasing with great stride or an even better comeback, but seeing you cry even more because of him made a strange knot form in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow down.

You demonstratively turn your back to him on the bed. It was actually insane to him, seeing you like this. You were always sharp, focused, witty; slapping Johnny and Simon on the arm when they start bantering too much on the way to a mission.

He was sort of addicted to it, he thought, as even your back turning made something warm flutter in his stomach as he reached for your shoulder, entire hand able to envelop it and tug gently.

“M’ sorry? M’ sorry just… talk to me.” Silence ensues.

“Please.” The word falls unnaturally from his lips.

It seems to be the keyword because your head turns painfully slow until you blink up at him, now with a slight scowl.

“It hurts” you whisper, bottom lip jutting out. He immediately pulls your cover down to your thigh to start looking you over for injuries but your cold hands tug his wrist and puts his palms over your lower stomach. He blinks.

“You pregnant?” He blurts.

Your eyes widen and he swears he sees a hint of a smile and triumph floods his system. “No you idiot! I’m on my period. Cramps!” You say with a shake of your head, eyes closing for a beat.

He was a bloody idiot to be fair. A lot of things from today seemed to click for him when you said that, and his shoulders relax, head tilting as his eyes narrow, framed by the black mask. His hands on your stomach fan out, thumbs stroking the skin under your shirt. He feels your muscles tighten at his touch.

“Sensitive?” He muses.

“Shut it” you mumble, looking away and trying not to let the enjoyment of his touch show too much, but your eyes flutter closed and he could practically hear you purring. But he doesn’t say anything, once again afraid he’ll ruin this little bubble that you’ve let him be a part of, for reasons he doesn’t understand.

After long minutes of comfortable silence, his hands running over the expanse of your stomach, caressing and massaging softly, he sees your lips part in soft breaths. Slowly and lingering, his hands retreat so he doesn’t do anything stupid. But you whine, immediately noticing the lack of his touch, even in your half asleep state, grabbing for him. His jaw flexes as he tried not to smile.

“M’ gonna run you a bath, lovie. I’ll be right back.” He promised, suddenly turning into some kind of caretaker role he never thought he wanted to be. Until you came along and now he finds himself wanting to do all kinds of things for you, after seeing how you reacted to his touch. The scrunch of your brows when he tells you he’ll run you a bath gives him a high he can ride for days.

He’s just trying to repay how sweetly you bandaged his hands weeks ago. To repay how you played along to his little story at the last mission about how you and him had met.

Trying to repay these insatiable and foreign feelings you brought forth in him, so you wouldn’t take them away. Ever.

Now maybe he just had to actually tell you about them? No. No way. The thought was forced from his mind immediately.

series masterlist

[evie-sturns]

all night long - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when you start getting needy for more during a makeout session with matt, he gives you more.. too much more.

contains: rough sex, overstimulation, making out, faux sympathy, face fucking, dom!matt (everything he does is consensual)

‘🎵imma make you scream, all night long🎵’

————————————-🎀————————————

i shift on matt’s lap, my hands intertwined in his silky hair as i let out desperate moans into his mouth.

tonight went from matt and i baking, to us making out messily in his room. we haven’t seen each-other in over a month, so this was definitely needed.

his soft lips press against mine harshly as his tongue fights for dominance in my mouth, his large ringed hands find their way down to my hips,

he grins me against his clothed bulge, he pulls away from the kiss for a second,

“you see what your doing to me?” he pants, his eyes travelling down to the obvious tent in his boxers.

“i need you- so bad matt.” i breathe, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

he peels my hands away, placing them back on my lap.

matt collides our lips together again, his hands travelling to the back of my hair.

i whine into his rosy lips, rubbing myself against his jeans.

“i want you so badly- please.” i almost beg matt, speaking against his lips.

“yeah? what exactly do you want?” he taunts with a small smirk on his face.

“you!” i say frustratedly, reaching down and palming him through his jeans.

he looks at me, his head cocked to the side. “i think i’m gonna need some more detail,” he sighs, pretending he doesn’t know what i’m saying.

i hesitate for a second before speaking “i want your dick matt- ‘want you to fill me up.” i practically whisper, avoiding eye contact with matt.

he still has that stupid smirk on his face, his cheeks a dark hue of pink.

“there we are, wasn’t so hard?” he smiles, shifting me off his lap

he stands up out of bed, his hands finding their way to my shoulders.

he flips me over on my stomach, before dragging me to the edge of the bed by my ankles.

my skirt rides up my thighs from the friction of him pulling me across the matress.

he flips my skirt up, revealing my lacy panties. i would’ve put on some sort of lingerie if i knew this was going to be the outcome of matt and i’s baking session.

he doesn’t waste time to pull off my panties, ripping them down the plush of my thighs.

“spread your legs apart f’me.” he demands, his tone lower than earlier.

i spread my legs apart, my face pressed into the sheets as i feel matt’s hands run across my ass from behind me.

“did you touch yourself in the month i was away?” he asks, his hands trailing over my lower back.

i shake my head, burying my face into the matress.

“why not?” he asks, moving his hand down to my entrance.

“didnt- didn’t feel good.” i breathe out,

“yeah?” he says, dipping his long middle finger inside of me.

i gasp, the last time that had sex was with matt right before he left for his trip, i’m not used to anything being inside of me right now.

he doesn’t waste time to add a second finger, i whine loudly.

“god, you’re ‘fuckin tight.” matt says quietly, pumping his fingers in, and out of me.

“i- i cant-“ i protest as he pushes his fingers faster, with each thrust he speeds up significantly.

“you can’t? weren’t you just begging for this?” he replies,

i squirm on the mattress, all of my moans being muffled by the blankets on matt’s bed.

i clench around his fingers, causing him to quickly pull them out of me,

“i didn’t tell you to do that.” he states,

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry-“ i repeat myself,

he grabs my waist and flips me over onto my back.

my skirt is still pushed up, he reaches over and scoops me up under my arms, lifting me onto my feet.

my legs wobble slightly,

he points to the floor, instructing me to sit.

i kneel down on the cold wood planks of his floor, my knees digging into the ground.

he stands infront of me, his clothed bulge right by my face.

he looks down at me, waiting for me to do something.

i hesitate before reaching for his belt buckle. fiddling with it before sliding it out of his belt loops.

it falls to the floor with a loud clank.

i unbutton his jeans, letting them drop to his ankles.

finally i tug down his boxers, he’s already fully hard.

“gonna let me use that pretty mouth, won’t you?” he says, wrapping his hand around his base and positioning his tip at my lips.

he rubs his tip over my closed lips, his precum spreading across my mouth.

i nod,

“go on then, open your mouth.” he speaks,

i slowly part my lips, matt quickly pushes his length into my mouth, inch by inch.

i squeeze my eyes shut as i take more of him, feeling his veins against my tongue.

matt’s hand finds its way to the back of my hair, twirling it into a makeshift ponytail.

“gonna take it all?” matt asks, followed by a strangled whimper from him.

i whine around his dick, he pulls out of my mouth just to the tip, giving me time to breathe before forcing his length down my throat.

i reach up and grip the back of his thighs as he quickly pulls out again, followed by him thrusting back inside my mouth.

“oh my god..” he groans, i look up at him through my lashes,

he watches his cock thrust in and out of my mouth, i don’t try to protest it because of how many moans are falling from matt’s lips.

my mascara runs down my cheeks as matt’s leg starts to subtly shake.

i run my nails up the back of his thighs, which seems to tip him over the edge completely.

he finishes with a loud groan, his head tipping back as his release fills my mouth.

he quickly pulls out of my mouth, “swallow it.” he says through deep breaths.

i squeeze my eyes shut before swallowing his load,

“there we are.” he says, picking me up off my knees and throwing me onto the bed.

i squeal as i hit the matress, matt lets out a low chuckle before flipping me over onto my back.

he wraps his hands around my ankles and tugs me to the edge of the bed. matt pushes my legs back so i’m fully revealed for him.

“did so good.” he mumbles, pushing my knees close to my stomach.

he wraps his hand around his base, positioning himself at my entrance.

he scans over my face as he pushes inside of me,

my mouth falls open, matt’s definitely not going slow.

he buries his cock inside of me, his tip kissing my cervix.

“matt-“ i whine, he gives me no time to adjust before he’s thrusting full force inside of me.

he keeps a firm grip on the back of my knees as he repeatedly fucks into me.

“god look at you.” he scoffs,

i have mascara running down my face, my hair is messy and spread across the mattress as i let matt completely use me.

his pace quickens with each thrust,

“too fast- too much” i babble out, which matt pays no mind to.

his hair flops on his forehead with each thrust, his blue eyes fixed on where his length disappears in my pussy.

he repeatedly hits my g-spot with the angle he has me on,

my mind goes completely blank as i arch my back off the bed,

with a loud scream of matt’s name i clench around him, my stomach releasing.

my legs shake in his grip as i finish,

matt doesn’t stop.

he continues to push into my sensitive core, i squirm on the matress as he overstimulates me.

“gonna let me finish inside you?” he breathes out through small groans.

i nod frantically, “that’s my good girl.” matt reply’s, his voice hoarse and shaking

he thrusts deeply inside of me once more before finishing inside of me,

he fucks into me a couple more times, burying his release inside of me.

my head flops back against the matress, my stomach spasming.

matt pulls out of me slowly,

i go to reach for him, but he pins my hand back down onto the matress,

“you thought we were done?” he asks,

shortly after he flips me over onto all fours, i shake my head,

“oh poor thing.” he sighs, his two hands finds their way to my hips and tugging me back towards him.

my ass rests on his pelvis as i breathe heavily

“cant take more than one orgasm, that’s pathetic.” he breathes,

“i can-!” i protest,

“can you?” he reply’s,

his tip drags through my sensitive folds,

“yes- i promise-“ i whine,

he pushes his tip inside of me, his hand resting on my lower back to make me arch more.

he fucks his tip inside of me,

my eyebrows knit together as my mouth falls open.

without warning he pushes his whole length inside of me, instantly starting to pound into me.

i let out a squeal as i grab a pillow from beside me,

i bury my face into the pillow, muffling my screams.

matt’s never fucked me like this before, i don’t know if it’s because we’ve been seperated for a month, or whatever it is, but he’s going rough.

his dick slams into me repeatedly, his tip bruising my cervix over and over.

he’s hitting insanley deep spots in me, making my mind go blank.

“matt!!” i scream into the pillow, the sound of our skin colliding fills the room.

“i can’t! i can’t!” i follow up,

“i thought you could? didn’t you promise?” he asks from behind me, his hand gripping my hip.

“i- i lied!” i reply back instantly.

“i don’t like liars.” he says, pushing on my back, making it arch even more.

“i’m sorry!” i yell into the pillow,

“are you?” he says shakily, leaning foward and resting his hands on either side of my head.

his chest presses against my back as i feel his rapid breathes on the back of my neck.

i let out uncontrollable noises which are now, muffled.

without warning i clench around him again, the knot in my stomach snapping.

“i didn’t tell you to do that.” he says from behind me.

-

10 minutes later matt is still thrusting into me, pulling more and more orgasms out of me.

“i can’t-“ my voice wobbles as i lift my head from the pillow.

he grips the sheets beside me before finally finishing, burying his seed inside of me.

he pulls out of me with a slick pop, then collapsing next to me on the bed.

i fall foward onto my face, my legs shaking.

i can barely see, nor think.

he tugs me into him, wrapping his tattooed arms around me.

“jesus fuck-“ he sighs into my messy hair.

“are you okay?” he asks, stroking my arm.

i nod, matt sits me up on the matress.

he grips my hands and stands me up, my legs instantly wobble and i stumble over.

“oh-“ he almost laughs, picking me up.

“that was.. insanity.” i finally speak, earning a small laugh from matt,

“i’m sorry gorgeous.” he sighs,

“you promise you okay? are you hurting?” matt asks, walking us into the bathroom.

he sets me down on the toilet, his cum leaking down my thighs.

“i’m okay- oh my god.” my voice shakes as i smile at matt.

he bends down and grabs a towel before dabbing the insides of my thigh with it.

he brushes it over my entrance, i wince.

“i know- i’m sorry.” he sighs, wiping me clean quickly.

he grabs my hand and pulls me up onto my feet, i instantly fall into him.

“you seriously can’t stand?!” he laughs,

“matt what do you think!”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmelbaesunpostre @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos @downbad4reid

[mysicklove]

summary: Sukuna might not be the best older brother, but at least Yuuji doesnt seem to mind.

wc: 1.6k

a/n: wrote this instead of kinktober. oopsies. i was feeling soft, ok? leave me alone.

big brother au masterlist

Two little fists bang at the door and you find yourself awoken from your sleep. In your half-sleep state, you manage to hear the desperate rattling of a door, and you furrow your eyebrows. Then, a sniffle, and a broken sob. “Brotherrrrr!”

“No Yuuji!” Sukunas voice echoes in your shared room, and at this, you seem to jump awake. Sukuna, turns his stare from the door back to you, and his lips curl upward. “You awake? C’mon lets go for round two. Been waiting hours.”

You pull yourself up, ignoring the suggestive kisses that your lover places down your neck. Another cry is let out from behind the door, and more pounding. “I-I'll be a good boy! Please, please, please Kuna!”

Sukuna growls into your neck, pulling away and yelling back a, “Yuuji, I told you it's adult time. Go watch your cartoons before you piss me off!”

A whined, “Noooooooo!” Is let out, and Yuuji by now must be sobbing, clawing at the door like some sort of puppy.

You turn to Sukuna, and his cocky smile returns, leaning forward to press more kisses along your cheek. You pull away, a scowl on your face, and he groans knowing what's to come. “Aw cmon, don't be mad. You promised me we would go again. ‘ts not my fault the brat is a clinger, Uraume is supposed to be watching him.”

You pull the sheets away from your body and Sukuna makes a noise of complaint. “Hand me your shirt,” You demand, pulling on your underwear as quickly as possible. He rolls his eyes at your tone, but pulls the cloth over his head and throws it to you. You are quick to put it on, satisfied when it comes just above your knees. 

Then you pad over to the door, while Sukuna sighs, and pinches his brows. He isn't getting lucky for nights to come, you've already decided.

When you open it, you find Sukunas four year old brother standing with his bunny stuffed animal, and tears streaming down his face. When he finally processes that its you, he immediately drops the bunny, and stumbles over to you as quickly as he can, the cries coming louder. His arms shoot up and he is warbling a, “Up! Up!”

You are quick to abide by his request, picking him up and pressing the boys body to yours, and shushing him when he sobs into your neck. Your hands run through the near identical pink hair, and you mumble out a, “I know, I know. Sukuna is so mean. Its okay. Shhhh, don't cry.”

The boy fails to listen, and you don't blame him. He must have been really hurt by his brother blatantly ignoring him. You glare at your lover as you make your way back toward the bed. He holds his hands up sheepishly, and you roll your eyes. You crawl back into bed, resting your back on the headboard, while the four year old straddles your lap, crying into Sukunas shirt.

“You coddle him too much,” The pink haired man complains, glancing at his brother who was staining his shirt.

You scoff at him, continuing to run your fingers through the boys hair as he finally begins to calm down from his wish being granted. “So you were going to let him just cry out there?”

“It's what our parents did to me, and I turned out just fine.” You bite back a frown, but place a comforting hand on his own. His eyes flicker to you, and he nods, not saying anything. You are glad their parents are gone, and he is too. Although being left to raise his brother was more tedious than he thought, to Sukuna at least.

The last of Yuuji's tears fall, and you wipe them away with a small smile. The boy leans into your hand, loving every second of physical touch. He always seemed to want to be touching one of the two of you, whether it by means of having you carry him, or him very tentatively asking his brother to hold his hand. In those moments, Yuujis smile seems to be the brightest. 

The puffy eyed kid turns to Sukuna, while continously holding onto your arm so that you don't stop your petting. “Brother is so mean!” Yuuji complains in a high voice, but he doesnt sound upset, only mimicking what you told him earlier. In fact, a smile was already beginning to creep on the boys face, already forgetting about the situation. 

A playful finger jabs into the boys chest, and the boy squeals with delight. “Wouldn't be mean if you weren't such a brat.”

Yuuji shakes his head, a massive grin plastered to his face. “Nuh-uh! You are brat!”

Sukuna raises his eyebrows and you chuckle, nodding at the boy with approval. “Tell me about it,” You encourage, and the boy in turn giggles, liking that you took to his side. 

The older of the two holds a predatory smile, and you raise your eyebrows. “You wanna say that again, kid?”

Yuuji doesnt understand threats, nor does he know that brat is considered an insult. “Brother Kuna is brat! Like me!”

Sukuna’s hands dart out to your lap, and make their way to Yuujis sides, quickly running his fingers over the skin. The boy squeals again, and then begins to frantically giggle at the ticklish feeling. Your lover's hands are tortuous on the boy, and in turn Yuuji's laugh begins to echo in the room, as he tries to squirm away. “No! Kuna! No!” He squeals, tiny fingers clawing into you as he tries to seek help from you. 

His brother holds a small smile too, obviously trying to hold the cold front, but can't when hearing the infectious laugh. Eventually, when Yuuji seems to be loosing airflow from all his laughing, you defend the boy, batting away your lovers hands from his small body. Yuuji comes collapsing into your abdomen, trying to catch his breath, but smiling non the less. You stare fondly at him.

Sukuna, on the other hand, manages to find a paper folded in Yuujis pocket. He glances at the kid, who is already watching him with pure adoration. The kid had a huge problem of idolizing his older brother, even after being tortured by tickling and left outside the room.

Yuuji points to the paper. “Gift!”

“Did you draw us something?” You question, tapping on Yuujis nose. He smiles and nods, squirming in excitement for you guys to see.

Your lover unfolds the paper, glancing at you with a bored expression. You read right through him though. He is curious to see what his brother made, you just know it. Yuuji's hands grips onto your shirt.

Inside is three stick figures, obviously drawn by a young child. Some of the heads are too big, and they are drawn with purple crayon, sloppy, but made with love. There is a little figure in the middle, coated with pink hair, and holding onto two taller peoples hands. On his left side is a carbon copy of the little one, also with pink hair, but frowning. On his right, was the color of your hair made sloppily with marker, and a smile big enough to match Yuujis. Cute.

“That ones me!” Yuuji exclaims, pointing to the little figure in the middle. 

“I couldn't tell,” Sukuna says very much sarcastically. Yuuji doesnt understand it, so he beams with pride, excited at the idea of possibly being compared to his brother that he idolizes so.

The boy giggles, and turns to you for confirmation. “Do me and brother look alike?”

You hum in thought, dramatically tapping your chin. “Definitely. But, one of you guys happens to be way cuter than the other though.” Before Yuuji can ask who, you lean forward and blow raspberries on his stomach, chuckling when more squeals and giggles come tumbling out. Sukuna hides a smile.

A second later Yuuji comes flying out of your lap and into Sukunas. The older grabs him forcefully by the hood of his jacket, like a mother cat does to its kittens. You roll your eyes at the treatment, knowing well that Sukuna by now knows how to hold a child. But the boy doesn't mind, now sitting contently in Sukunas lap and staring up at him. “You wanna look like me?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Sukuna licks his hand, and you furrow your eyebrows. Then he very much too forcibly runs his fingers through Yuuji's hair. You jump watching the boy nearly collapse backward at the motion of his hands, but braces himself. Sukuna has a really bad problem of treating his brother with a little to much force than what a child should be used to. But Yuuji was a strong kid, so he never barked a lick of complaint – it was only you that were biting your fingers with nerves. 

Sukuna brushes the pink hair backward, similar to his hair cut. Then he uses more saliva to spike it up. Once finished he nods at the kid, content with the hair that looks identical to his.

“Alright. Good. Now go grab a sharpie, we gotta give you some tattoes.”

Yuuji borderline has a tantrum when you tell him why you can't do that, while Sukuna laughs the entire time. But, the two of you compromise, and now there is a picture hung in Sukunas room where Yuuji is coated with black marker tattoos, identical to his brother.

[dollarbils]

tell me i’m your only fan | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your most active fan on onlyfans soon piqued your interest as she became something much more.

warnings. phone sex, ofstar!reader, (i probably made up half of the features on onlyfans)

request masterlist

regardless of the public opinion, you quite liked your job. you’d made the switch to onlyfans just recently, finding it a much more comfortable platform, and most importantly: much more profitable.

most of your ‘fans’ so to say were the regular dynamic of people you’d expect. rich, older men with nothing better to spend all their money on. but curiously, a huge part of your audience was women. in particular one woman. your favourite, you’d call her. she’d been subscribed for about a month now, consistently watching your uploads and streams. often taking the spotlight as well, sending gifts and paying large amounts of money for personalised content. but what seriously did it for you, was when she bought your entire wish list five minutes after you’d published it, requesting a special ‘unboxing�� of everything she’d bought you.

naturally, it didn’t take long for you to start talking. it was difficult to remember she was one of your fans, your conversations straying far away from anything you’d ever talked to a fan about. she seemed to care about you, take interest in your personal life. and once you’d gotten wrapped up, it was almost too easy to get attached.

“god just keep speaking, baby.” her voice was almost a whine, as she relished in your soft laughter and emotive expression.

“how are you always turned on?” you remarked somewhat as a joke, knowing it was true though.

“i’m talking to the woman i jerk off to, i think it’s justified.” she never failed to be bold, often taking you by surprise.

“well you’ll find my recent uploads have been the outcome of what some would call a ‘muse’. you’re quite sexy yourself, babe.” she groaned and it went straight to your core, the familiar pulse settling in.

“jesus. it’s like your tryna make be bust a nut in my pants right now.” the masculinity to her words only made them more filthy, urging you to rile her up some more.

“i won’t deny it.” she chuckled, a momentary pause before she sighed.

“i bet you tell that to all of them, huh? your fans, they all think they got lucky, that your reserved for them.” her words stung quite a bit, knowing the truth was far from it.

“hardly, it was pretty stupid of me to give you my number. i’d take it as a sign that you did get lucky.” she almost scoffed at your words.

“i’m going to need to cut back on the glazing if your gonna act like this.” she was serious now, testing the waters before committing.

“oh yeah? tell me what’s so wrong with my behaviour.” a low sound from the back of her throat revealed the success of your words. clearly it was turning her on.

“you’re really testing me, baby. you can’t even imagine what i’d do if i was there with you right now.” you felt a pool in your underwear forming, liking how this was going.

“please, tell me.” her breath hitched, her confidence faltering slightly. but when she spoke again you’d never have questioned her confidence.

“i’d treat you like what you are. a fucking slut.” her filthy words only turned you on more, your skin tingling at the sound of her heavy breaths through the phone speaker.

“oh yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? you’re not here, you cant stop me from doing anything.” she chuckled, a mocking tone following.

“oh please angel, it’s cute you think so. i bet your hand is doing some filthy things as we speak. am i turning you on, baby?” your hand stopped at your lower stomach in an act of a sort of shame, your breaths quickening.

“i’m guessing the silence means i’m right. don’t deny yourself babe, touch yourself for me.” you couldn’t help but follow her demands, seeking your own pleasure along with your submission.

“fuck.” she laughed softly, again, enjoying the vocal effect she was having on you.

“you’re gonna kill me angel.” a smile formed on your lips, as you continued pumping your own fingers into your heat.

“tell me i’m your only fan.” her words were seductive, a plea to recognise her as more than a fan.

“you’re my favourite fan.” your reply seemed to satisfy her as she sunk deeper into her mattress, the sheets ruffling through the phone as she bit back a moan.

“are you close?” she mumbled, evidently riddled with her own sweat release.

“fuck, y-yeah.” you stuttered, the heat of the moment taking over, fogging up your senses.

“i like that title, favourite fan. sure seems well deserved, doesn’t it.”

“more than well deserved.” you huffed, slightly out of breath as you chuckled into the phone.

part 2

[gtgbabie0]

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!reader

{The upcoming war has brought a great stress upon you which causes you to go into an early labour}

!CW!//blood, premature childbirth// Enjoy lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The days following Aegon’s coronation were nothing short of exhausting, the mornings dragged and the nights were sleepless. The new king found himself in over his head with the only solace being you, someone who has stubbornly been there for him since childhood.

There was a familiarity to your warmth and kind words of encouragement, you were his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions and he latched onto that never willing to let go. Always checking up on you and the babe inside your womb with worried eyes.

In turn, you had done the same, constantly seeking him out when horrible thoughts of the brewing war were all that plagued your mind, leaving you paranoid and constantly on edge.

You were each other’s anchors in ways that you both never thought possible.

The afternoon sun drips through the clouds, casting warm orangey rays through Kings Landing and across the Red Keep, bathing your shared bedchambers in a comforting light.

It is supposedly meant to be peaceful, or that is what Aegon thought when he practically demanded for you to stay in bed. Yet it has proven to be much more stressful, the books and cross-stitching doing nothing to distract your mind from what lingers over the horizon.

You have taken to pacing the length of the room, much to the dismay of your maids who watch on with panic in their eyes. A few of them had prompted you to sit down, trying to sway you with tea and sweet cakes but you waved them all off with a frown, desperately trying to ignore the dull pain that was beginning to grow in the small of your back.

You refuse to believe that your baby is arriving, it is far too early, yet you can hear the Maesters voice in the back of your mind telling you how ‘stress is not good for the babe’.

“Your grace, please take a seat.” The youngest of your maids try once more, daring to step forward to you with careful footing as if you were some sort of scared deer.

At her words you shake your head, turning your back to her with a small sigh, your fingers pressing against your lower spine and your other hand resting against the swell of your belly.

“Where is my husband?” You demand, turning back to face the women whose eyes never leave you.

“The King is attending a small council meeting, he shan’t be long, your grace.” Her words do nothing to calm the way your hands tremble nor the thoughts that race through your mind, despite how soft her tone is.

You purse your lips together tightly with a sharp inhale as shooting pain rips through your lower abdomen, causing you to hunch over slightly, grasping onto a chair for support.

You can hear the women behind gasp, saying something about blood but it all seems like distant noise almost as if you were underwater. There is little you can do but groan in pain, finally allowing your maids to guide you over to your bed.

You know something is deeply wrong, having already been through this once before. But that was extremely different, your mother was there even Aegon who stood speechless in the corner of the room with wide eyes… Gods you were both so young then, it seemed like a memory that wasn’t yours.

Now you are alone, save for the Maesters and Maids who are frantically trying to keep your temperature down with damp cloths, water dribbling down the side of your temples as you lay in fear.

You push yourself up onto your elbow, resting up on the mountain of pillows, letting out a strained cry at the feeling of an agonising pain that cramps up your abdomen causing you to fist the bedsheets beneath you.

The sound of your bedchamber doors slamming open catches your attention, but only for a brief moment before collapsing back down against the bed with a stomach-churning cry.

The staff around you don’t dear to try and turn Aegon away, especially when his eyes darken at the sight of the blood stains on your chemise and bedspread, a heavy look of terror masked behind an anger that sends a chill through the hot room.

“She is bleeding— why is she bleeding?!” He shouts, demanding an answer from the Maester who is trying to coax you to breathe deeply and then push.

His demands are met with silence before Orwyle steps away from the bed where you lay, squirming in pain. The maids and nurses all rush together, trying to guide your breathing through your clenched teeth.

“The babe is breeched your grace, coming feet first.” Maester Orwyle says, casting his eyes down to the floor with a troubled expression.

The sound of your agony echos within Aegon’s mind sending his thoughts spiralling far out of his control, the helplessness of it all eats away at him making his hands tremble with frustration that he can’t do anything to help you, to take you away from this damned situation. His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking anywhere but at you as if he was trying to find a hidden answer to save you from this nightmare.

“Well, then why are you still standing here? Do something, help her!” He shouts, slamming his closed fists down upon the wooden table as he watches the Maester scurry back to the bed.

He stands there frozen, his breathing ragged suffocating on his own emotions. He wants the throw things, and curse the gods, the mother and the warrior because where is mercy and strength as you lay there in this torment?

“Aegon…” the sound of his name leaving you so weakly, the hushed word that is strained in desperation tumbling past your chapped lips hits him square in his chest, almost flooring him in shock.

His body moves on its own, practically collapsing onto the edge of the bed with his brows pinched together and his glossed-over eyes looking down at you. He wants to help you so bad but the only thing he can do is stroke your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“Do not leave, stay here please,” you plead through gritted teeth, looking up at him through your bleary sight.

“I am staying… I’m right here.” He tells you firmly, the back of his fingers caressing your warm cheek gently. The cool metal of his rings keeps your eyes from falling close, fighting the fatigue.

He watches you intently, every twitch of your face only sends him further down into this maddening spiral of despair and frustration. “You’re doing so well… keep going.” He whispers, brushing his thumb over your hot cheek.

Aegon doesn’t move from his spot beside you, allowing your hands to tighten harshly around his own each time your body is wrecked by a contraction. He takes one of the damp rags from the maids, dabbing it against your chest and face in hopes of soothing you, even if it is only for a mere second because he cannot… he will not sit there doing nothing.

“We must sit her up,” Orwyle says through the sounds of your screams, resorting to the last possible option.

“What will that do if not cause her more pain?… I will not have her suffer more than she already is.” Aegon retorts with a deep frown, his words stern and laced with worry.

He was extremely stubborn and firm, even more so when the matter was about you. Never letting you leave from his side let alone out of his sight any longer than needed and even then he made sure at least one Kingsguard was standing behind you at all times.

“It is noted that movement helps set the babe correctly, your grace.” His words do very little to calm the maelstrom of dread that wraps around his heart and chokes him up. “Unless you wish to leave her in the hands of the gods…”

Aegon’s eyes meet your own for a very brief moment, the gods have already failed her, he thinks.

“No… no sit her up.” He agrees, looping his arm around your shoulders and pushing you upwards as you demand and scream for him to stop, fingers digging into his arms as you call his name weakly.

The hours that you were in labour for the Red Keep was still, silently waiting on bated breath for news of you and your babes' wellbeing. The echoes of your screams and pleas were the only thing that could be heard even from all the way down in the kitchens.

It was the hour of the owl when you finally made the final push, sinking back down against the pile of soft pillows. “Congratulations your grace… a boy,” Orwyle announces as your son wails making his presence well known. The maids swaddle your son up in a clean blanket before placing him gently upon your chest.

You take deep laboured breaths, your eyes heavy with exhaustion as you look down at your son. He was tinier than the twins when they were born, so much more delicate, his breathing weaker.

Aegon was completely stunned, he doesn't know what to say or do, instead, he simply watches you and the way cradle the baby’s head ever so gently, greeting him with a soft kiss on his forehead.

He had seen this before but yet he still feels as if his heart might just leap out of his chest. An overwhelming feeling of pride bursts through him leaving him all teary-eyed and soft smiles.

“He’s beautiful.” Aegon finally breaks his silence, his voice thick with indescribable emotions. The words don’t do your son justice, the little ball of pureness that is cuddled up against your chest. He can’t believe that something so precious… so innocent could be half him but the shape of his nose could attest that, he was Aegon’s.

You nod softly, brushing the back of your finger across his cheek as you admire him. The rest of the world seems to disappear, the maids cleaning up around you turn into white noise, and all you can focus on is your boy.

“Would you like to hold him?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from all the crying and screaming that was so worth it for the price of this feeling of contentment that has washed over you.

He holds back a sharp response that his hands were too rough, too clumsy. The last thing he wanted to was hurt him, he was already so tiny. You can see the look of trepidation that passes through his amethyst eyes, he was hesitant.

Your fingers slip between his own, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t hurt him Aegon, I promise.” You tell him, melting away all of his persistent worries that had rooted themselves into his heart.

With a small, almost nervous, nod of his head, he pulls the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows before you place the newborn babe in his arms, his heart stops for a small second, the breath in his lungs completely gone and all he can do is marvel down at his son.

“You’re amazing…” he whispers, voice steeped in reverence as he casts his gaze down to you as if you were some sort of deity to worship. You had nurtured a life and now here he is holding that very same life, it completely astonishes him.

You chuckle at his words, lifting your hand to rest against his cheek ever so gently. He leans into the warmth of your palm, pressing a soft kiss against your wrist. “He’s ours Aegon, yours and mine.” You remind him with a weak smile.

It’s a simple word, ours. But the way you say it with such emotion, with no hesitation, leaving no room for doubt to plague his heart made him happy. So happy.

“Ours,” Aegon repeats, brushing the back of his fingers across his son’s cheek ever so gently. “Maelor…” He smiles, testing the name softly before looking back down at you as you nod in agreement, repeating the name lovingly.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

The following days were slow, quite a nice change of pace especially with everything that had been happening. You sit, leaning back against the velvet cushions of the chair, with Maelor in your arms as you wait for Aegon and the twins.

“Remember, you have to be gentle and quiet,” Aegon says, walking into the bedchambers with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera at either side of him.

They both let go of his hand before rushing over to you with wide curious eyes, looking down at their new sibling with excitement.

“Can he play with us in the garden?” Jaehaera smiles, looking up at you.

“Not just yet my sweet, he’s got a little growing to do before then.” You tell her softly, brushing her curls behind her ear.

“Am I allowed to read to him?” Jaehaerys asks next, his hand grasping the armchair as he leans over to look down at Maelor.

“Soon, let’s give him time to settle first.” He nods at your words and soon enough they’re both asking question after question.

Aegon stands behind you, his hands massaging your shoulders as you answer the twins with a patience he admires. The sight fills him with a sweet warmth that bleeds through him, his heart full of love. Perhaps the weight of the crown isn’t so bad if it’s for you four.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

Dad Aegon as he deserves.

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[suiana]

Yandere british policeman but its just this https://pin.it/713T0xSDg

(yandere! british policeman x gn! reader) (idk why you want a british man in particular but you know what it's fine) (it could've been worse, like a french man /j)

"right love, gonna need you to open the door and talk to me."

you merely stare at this... random ass man through your peephole. who the hell does this guy think he is? this is the fourth day in a row that he's showed up at your doorstep! for four days, he's delibrately taken time out of his day to show up in front of your door!

hell, he's been following you since way before! trying to pull you over on the road, yelling something about 'pulling over' or telling you to 'freeze'... you suspect it's been about a few months since this random man started showing up in your life like a damn pest.

who the hell even does that?

"go away!"

yeah nah, you're not going to let him in. no way in HELL. plus, he always shows up wearing that same weird outfit! when you first confronted him, he said he was some sort of... officer? and that what he was wearing was a uniform?

hah! imagine having to wear a uniform. he really is just a young chap playing a prank on you. how annoying, that's why you haven't opened the door for him no matter how long he spends knocking away. let him knock, maybe he'll finally get the hint and leave you alone.

"i'm going to have to break down your door if you don't open it, love. you're a person of interest in a really serious crime, you know. it'll be better if you just cooperate with us."

and there he goes again. again with his rambling and nonsense talk of breaking down your door. does he really think he has the authority to do that? nah, you'll just call the police if he does! they'll deal with him like they should!

in fact, you think you'll call the police now! have this guy arrested for harrassing you non-stop!

"if you don't leave, i'll call the police!"

silence.

"so you're scared huh? i knew it! you're just a loser-"

"darling, i am the police."

and then all of a sudden, your door fails to function properly and just falls to the floor, the hinges unhinging on itself. your jaw drops as you face the tall policeman, your eyes wide. but before you could say anything else, he starts talking about his nonsense police stuff again.

"sweetheart i'm putting you under arrest as the prime suspect of a hit and run. please turn around and put your hands against the wall."

"hey wait just a second! i never hit anybody!"

despite your protests, you couldn't really fight against the guy. not when he completely dwarfed you. not when he had huge hands and big pectoral muscles... and that ass in those tight pants... and just seeing him in his uniform... you wonder what would happen if you smacked his ass...?

but back to the problem. hit and run? bro you don't even drive! how could you be a prime suspect of a hit and run? there was only one answer.

"you're a fraud! no way a guy like you is an actual officer! i demand you let go of me until a real-"

then he pulls out an authentic looking police badge and license. no way, he was real? but... but you didn't commit a hit and run! how could this be happening?! no, no, no! get these unsexy handcuffs off!

"you're coming back with me. gonna have to discipline a criminal like you the hard way. not letting me in for four days? tsk tsk, i am so very disappointed in you, love."

wait a second!

just wait a second!

why the heck was he dragging you into a real police car?! no way! this is some big shit! you can't believe this is happening!

"come on dude! you can't seriously be-"

"yeah, you didn't actually commit any crime. i'm just using it as an excuse to bring you back to my home where i can love and adore you."

HUH????

[yeonmuse]

— Bloodlust 18+

IN WHICH, you’re stuck with him, following his rules, obeying every order all because your father had made a binding vow to strengthen your bloodline.

( pairing) - vampire!sunghoon x f!r 2.8kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of blood/sexual themes/asshole sunghoon [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

Req from anon: “hi can you please do a vampire sunghoon x reader smut ive been reading all of your rockstar series and i can’t wait for you to finish it”

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jiamini @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time

**Jake and Heeseungs parts can be found in my library **

It went without saying that you absolutely hated Park Sunghoon, since the moment you’d arrived at his estate he hadn't shown the slightest ounce of hospitality to you. He was cold, demanding, self centered and an absolute asshole.

Of course you are forced to put up with him nonetheless, having been given to him by your father under the agreement of some sort of pact he had made with the Park Bloodline. You’d be prompted to give both your family and the park family an heir, forever binding your bloodlines and ending the decade long feud between your ancestors and the parks.

Though just because you were forced into such an agreement didn’t mean you had to make it easy, you had made every day for Sunghoon hell as well, always talking back, flirting with his friends when they’d visit, you made the simplest of conversation with him an argument and it aggravated him to the highest degree.

Today would seem to be the only day of peace that you’d be getting, being told Sunghoon would be away on business for a while, You found yourself roaming the empty library you had now become quite familiar with. The warmth of the fireplace engulfed your body, and you let out a content sigh upon finally having gotten some peace and quiet. Fingers dusting over the old outdated novels, you scanned through most of them until finding one that caught your eye. A soft hum spills from your lips as you stretch out your arms to grasp a book on a higher shelf, jumping back once you feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Not quite tall enough to get it yourself hm?” The familiar tone was a dead give away that it was none other than Park Sunghoon.

“Get lost, I'm trying to read, I was told you wouldn’t be here.” Rolling your eyes you remove his arms from your waist as you continue to reach for your chosen book.

“Seems to me you’re rather struggling to get the book more so than you are reading one.” As if it took no effort he reaches for the book you had been eyeing for mere minutes now and raises it into the air.

“Tell me little one, are you interested in such a book?” Leaning down he made sure that his autumn colored orbs stared directly into yours all while you shot him an annoyed glare, seemingly struggling to retrieve the book from him.

“Oh, go on little bunny, maybe if you jump a little higher you’ll get it.” He found it amusing watching you struggle, since the moment you had moved in with him he made it his mission to get under your skin just as you did to him.

“I swear to god, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk.” Your frustration had only grown the more he opened his mouth.

“No, but I do get tired of hearing you, little rabbit.”

‘Bunny’ ‘little rabbit’ two nicknames he has used frequently since you’d moved into his estate. That was how he viewed you, a helpless rabbit for him to prey upon whenever he desired, though when you first arrived he hadn’t expected a little thing like you to give him as much trouble as you had.

“It’d make that pretty face of yours even more desirable if you’d learned to keep quiet.” Finally he brought the book down and handed it to you only for him to grab your hand and pull you into his chest the moment you reached for it.

“You’re always so sweet and coquettish when it comes to Jaeyun or Jongseong, yet you love to make it difficult for me?” His thumb gently brushes over your wrists as he stares down at them, he could smell the blood running through your veins, and the beating of your heart didn’t go unnoticed by him either.

“Wait-” before you could even protest Sunghoon had already had you pressed against the shelf behind you, his leg locked in place between your thighs to keep you from moving. His thumb immediately pressed into your wrist, silencing you, making you yelp as his nails pierced your skin.

“From now on only speak when I tell you sweetheart, I’m sick of your mouth.” His eyes pierced into yours in a way that made you fall silent almost immediately. You hated it, you hated him, even more you hated your father for having made the agreement to give you up so easily. You also hated that the moment he gave you that command you were forced to comply.

“I told your father I’d be polite, that I'd wait until you were compliant and willingly giving yourself to me, but all you’ve done is act like a brat.” He chuckles and grabs your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes, a hunger seemingly lingering in them, a look you hadn’t realized until now.

“sweet little human, I could break you in far more ways than you know. Yet you still know how to pull strings until I’m singing to your tune.” He brought your lips to his wrist, and you watched as his tongue escaped past his lips and dusted across your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“You’re so quiet now hm? Haven’t heard that pretty mouth speak a word.”

“Fuck off.” He chuckles before his lips meet your skin again, this time sucking at the bare flesh of your wrists as he presses his knee against you, a grin cutting into his lips as he hears a moan spill past your lips mere sections after you had just cursed him.

He eyed your every move as he slid his tongue across your skin, he found himself very much satisfied as he sensed a rise in the heat of your body. As your eyes met his and you spotted that familiar cocky smirk on his lips, part of you wanted to pull away from him, to tell him off. To not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you feeling vulnerable to say the least. Though there was no fooling him he could tell you were struggling to pull upsets together, that you were failing at your attempt to fight against him. Though he also knew you were still annoyed with him, and that would make it all the more enjoyable having you crying and begging for him to make a mess of you.

“I’ll show you the proper use of that pretty mouth you got, I’ll teach you when and when not to speak.” He forces you down to your knees, holding your face in his hands to keep your mouth open. He absolutely loved the way you looked at him as if you wanted to destroy him, like you were completely pissed at him. His thumb brushes over your lip as he stares into your eyes and he leans in mere inches away from your face.

“Go on sweetheart tell me how much you hate me yeah?” Before you could manage even one word he yanks your head back by your hair and shoves his fingers into your mouth earning a frustrated moan from you.

“Let’s prepare you, yeah?” He watched as you almost instantaneously fell into your role and he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Already making good use of that mouth, look at you.” His eyes were locked in place, watching the way your tongue swirled and danced around his fingers. It gave him all the more reason to stuff your mouth full of him. He wastes no time undoing his belt and shoving his pants to the floor, his boxers not too far behind.

The moment he slid the tip of his cock between your lips a groan spilled past his lips. He was ecstatic. The feeling of your lips around him making him eager to explore the rest of you. He loved the way your sweet eyes gazed into his like you hated him, even though your actions said otherwise.

“Fuck,is this all I have to do to shut you up? Fuvk this pretty face?” He growls, his head falling back as he takes in the feeling of your mouth around him. Grinding his hips against your face. You took his thrusts so easily, eyes trained on him above you as you began to suck, one hand on his thigh to keep yourself still and the other on the floor beneath you. Falling into the rhythm was surprisingly easy and felt very fucking natural with him.

While Sunghoonseemed to be lost in the sensation of your sweet mouth.You on the other hand, you were a moaning mess, fingers digging into his thigh as he fists your hair and fucks your throat. The slurping and gagging noises that spilled past your lips were enough to make him cum right then and there, but he didn’t, he just kept fucking your pretty lips as if he were trying to permanently shut you up.

“Should have thought of this before you got so mouthy” Following his words Sunghoon forces the rest of his dick down your throat earning a cry from you as you feel the head of his cock excessively abuse it. He kept mercilessly fucking your mouth, muffling every moan that threatened to escape your lips. You simply whimpered pathetically, clawing at his thigh, clenching around nothing, feeling so pathetic at the fact that this had actually been turning you on. Your desperation pulled a grunt from him, making him yank your hair harder forcing a cry from your mouth which was swallowed up by his cock.

“Fuck”

Without any warning he forces himself to reach the back of your throat as he finishes in your mouth. Shooting his load into the depths of your throat, and not giving you any time to breath before he has to propped up against the bookshelf.

“Still hate me baby hm? Still angry at me?” Before you could manage even one word his lips wrapped around your lips and he began to suck at your clit. This earned a frustrated moan from you, when he treated your body in such ways there was no way you’d let out any words that were remotely coherent.

“I’m asking you a question, let me hear it.” His tongue began to lap at your folds like he was hungry for it. his nails digging into your thighs with every whine or moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips. It made him hungrier for it, hungrier to hear you crying and begging beneath him. Usually he was content with just annoying you but right now he wanted to break you.

When he was met with continued silence he removed his lips from your soaked cunt to kiss along your thighs. You became very aware of his fangs as they grazed the skin of your inner thighs earning a whimper on your part. A whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon, tempting him to do it again.

“Oh? Does that turn you on? You're so pathetic, all it takes is my cock down your throat and tongue deep in your pretty little cunt for me to get you compliant.” He seemed to call you out on everything, everything you tried to hide or deny he knew that’s what made him so frustrating. His eyes remained trained on your face as he continued to tease your body with his fangs. At some point he even went as far as teasing himself by piercing your skin and licking the blood that spilled between your thighs.

“Mmm, a sweet taste to match the scent.” As you watched the way his tongue lapped at your blood you couldn't help but want him to take more from you, to hear more satisfied groans as he drank from your body.

As his eyes remained focused on your face he immediately dug his sharp teeth into your thighs, a satisfied moan spilling past his lips at the taste. Your taste was addicting and it was now clear to him why the others always had such a rough time being around you. He watched the way your eyes rolled back as you pulled his hair, the wetness that gushed from your thighs all while your heart beat began to speed up at the painful pleasure. Once he had finally taken enough blood to satisfy his thirst he moved back between your thighs to once again hear the lovely Melodie’s that would spill from your lips.

The way he worked his tongue was godly and it went without saying that no matter how much you disliked him at times, with a tongue like his you could easily be put in your place.

“Fuck, Stop talking and just fuck me.” His nails pressed into your thigh, a mere warning for you to fix your attitude.

“Beg for it then sweetheart, if you want me so badly.” He forced his fingers past your folds and uses them to stretch you out, watching the way your jaw clenched in annoyance as you tried to force back a moan

“Please, please Hoon it hurts, I need more.”

"Yes, say that again..beg. My pretty little human, tell me what you’d like." He loved that you didn’t shy away from begging for it. You were his, his perfect little slut, his precious little human and he’d ruin you and watch you crumble in his arms.

“please.” Your fingers coiled within his dark locks and he watched as your eyes gazed down at him full of desperation.

“I’ll train you well enough, you’ll be able to take me any time and anywhere I please.”

“Fuck, just shut- u” before you could even finish you felt him push past your entrance stretching you out until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach

“Go on finish your sentence sweetheart” He continued to jerk his hips up into you knowing that if he kept at it you wouldn’t be able to say a word. He found pure amusement in watching the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“So pathetic, the moment you get stuffed like a pretty little cocksleeve you immediately go mute.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back against your chest. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He wasted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails clawing at the shelf behind you and your mouth fell open, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as gargled moans spilled past your lips.

“H-Hoon.” The sound of his name spilling from your lips was like heaven. He immediately leans down to take your nipple between his lips while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the flicking of his tongue against your breasts every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“Look at you pretty girl, you hate me so much yet here you are taking my cock like a desperate fiend.” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little whore gonna cum all over my cock after complaining all this time about how much she hates me.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for Sunghoon to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. Your legs shook violently as his thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock along with the desk in mere seconds. Subghoon wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way your tight cunt clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill his load into you.

He took pride in watching you struggle to catch your breath.

“Still hate me sweetheart?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good thing I have forever to fuck it out of you then.”

[kiiarahehe]

Hiori x Reader short fic

Warning!!

-smut, (mischaracterising PERHAPS), blowjobs, sadism, rough oral sex, somewhat degrading?? 18+,this post is extremely short so not many tags..

18+ MDNI!!!

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!!

You and Hiori are competing in a video game for “favors”

“You suck.”

You teased; the score increased, and you were pleased by the automated dialogue saying “matchpoint”.

“Yo, this is the third time I’ve beat you. Just give up.”

“Second ya mean, games not over yet.” Hiori corrected, “You owe me that favor if I win.”

“Still delusional as ever, Yo. It’s 11-4, there’s no way your team can actually come back!” You laughed, condescension apparent in your tone. “T’s not too late for you to call it quits and gimme my money~” Your chime only irritated him more.

“Nuh uh. One more round.” He interjected, determined to keep playing.

“Fine, but since I’ll be winning three games, it's only fair you triple the money. That’s three meals.” You agreed, eager to end the match for your delighted reward.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

The match ended. 11-12.

Hiori won.

“Who’s suckin’ now, bitch?”

Hiori mocked as he drilled his cock into the back of your throat, eyes glued to your glossy lips that leaked saliva and a combination of his precum. He grabbed the back of your head, hands tugging into your hair, and ruthlessly pushed into your mouth. It was like he was trying to deprive you of all air, abusing your throat to reach for who knows what. You gagged, but your efforts for him to stop were of no avail. He continued to fuck into your mouth as tears dripped down your face. And yet you didn’t hate it.

You noticed his rhythm began to change as your cute eyes bubbled and your puffy-red cheeks sank inwards while you practically inhaled his dick. Attempting to give yourself some sort of pleasure, your thighs involuntarily rubbed against each other, the friction leading to your high.

“Fuuuuck, keep lookin’ at me like that would ya?” Hiori teased, his movements delayed so he could better admire the sight of your pretty-crying face. His thrusts were slow but deep, stuffing your mouth further. Your moans against his dick felt satisfying, and he threw his head back at the ecstasy.

“Love it when ya whimper on my cock, feels so good.” He groaned as he played with your throat, regaining quick momentum as he was about to orgasm. Gripping your hair firmly, his hips thrust up into you to reach the deepest part of your mouth. “Stick yer tongue out,” Hiori demanded, pulling out of you for a split second. You were panting as you willingly did so, and he was buoyant in how much better you looked than those models on the old vhs tapes he’d seen.

“Say ‘Itadakimasu’~” Hiori moaned out while his cum spurted out onto your tongue, drops splattering your chin and the surrounding areas. The bitter flavor hit your taste buds, something you weren’t quite used to. The fluid glistened on your tongue and lips, and Hiori just stared in awe. You looked so sexy with your face ruined, and he knew it meant he would have to keep making these favours if it meant he could indulge in the sight! His brow raised, but with astonishment as you accidentally swallowed his load, an audible gulp in your throat. “Didn’t even have t’a ask..”

“Yo..” you managed to croak,

“You enjoy yer first meal, angel?” He taunted.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Happy new year my loves. Here’s to 2025 ✨

The kitchen was warm, the air filled with the rich, enticing aroma of tomatoes, garlic, and paprika. Alexia stood at the stove, her focus sharp as she stirred a bubbling pot of sofrito, her movements fluid and practiced. She had tied her blonde hair back into a loose ponytail, the strands swaying slightly as she moved. She looked impossibly beautiful, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she tasted the sauce with a flick of her wrist.

You were perched awkwardly by the counter, watching her with both admiration and a growing itch to help. “Can I do something?” you asked, your voice hopeful as you leaned forward on your elbows.

Alexia glanced at you, her expression skeptical. “No, cariño,” she replied firmly. “Sit and watch. I’ll do it.”

“Please,” you whined, pushing off the counter and walking toward her before winding your arms around her waist. You squeeze tightly, hands clasped together on her hip.“I’ll be careful,” you promised. “Just…let me help a little?”

She sighed, softening at the pleading look in your eyes. With a small shake of her head, she gestured toward the chopping board. “Fine. Vegetables. But be careful.” Her tone was stern, but you caught the faintest tug of a smile at the corners of her lips.

Grinning triumphantly, you grabbed the knife and got to work. It started well enough, the rhythmic chop of the blade against the cutting board filling the room as Alexia stirred her pot. But then—predictably—you slipped. A sharp sting shot through your finger, and you hissed, jerking your hand back as the knife lands on the chopping board with a clatter.

Alexia was at your side in an instant, her green eyes wide with concern. “¿Qué pasó? Let me see,” she demanded, grabbing your wrist gently. The cut was small, barely more than a scratch, but the sight of the blood made her frown deeply.

“It’s nothing,” you tried to say, though you winced as she dabbed at it with a dish towel.

She shook her head, muttering something in Spanish that you couldn’t quite catch before disappearing to grab a plaster. When she returned, she carefully wrapped it around your finger, her touch soft and deliberate. “No more knives,” she said firmly as she hoisted you up onto the counter. She pressed a kiss to the bandaged finger, and despite your embarrassment, you felt your heart swell.

“But I want to help,” you insisted, tugging lightly on the hem of her shirt as she turned back to the stove. She sighed again, this time deeper, and allowed you to pull her to stand between your legs.

Her hands came to rest on your thighs, her thumbs brushing soothing circles through the fabric of your leggings. “You’ll get hurt again,” she said, her voice softening as her eyes met yours.

“I won’t,” you promised, leaning in to pepper her face with kisses—her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose. “Please, Alexia. Let me do something. Anything.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly trying to steel herself against you. But then she relented with a small groan, a lopsided smile breaking through. “Fine,” she said, lifting you down from the counter with ease. “You can stir the sauce. Nothing more.”

You beamed at her, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Gracias,” you said, drawing out the word dramatically. She shook her head, chuckling, and handed you the wooden spoon.

Stirring the sauce seemed simple enough. “This isn’t so bad,” you said confidently, glancing over your shoulder at Alexia as she diced something at the counter like she was some sort of Michelin chef.

But then you had the bright idea to taste it. You scooped up a bit of the sauce with the spoon, blowing on it lightly before taking a bite. Immediately, your tongue burned, the scalding heat overwhelming your senses. You let out a yelp as you instinctively swallow, dropping the spoon back into the pot as tears sprang to your eyes.

Alexia spun around at the sound, her expression shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. “What happened?” she asked, rushing to your side.

“Hot,” you managed to choke out, fanning your mouth desperately with one hand. She grabbed a glass of water and pressed it into your hands, her other hand resting lightly on your back.

“Drink,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. You took a long gulp, the cool liquid soothing the worst of the burn. When you finally set the glass down, she was watching you with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“You’re dangerous in the kitchen,” she teased, though her hands came up to cup your cheeks, her thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had escaped. “Sit. There.” She pointed to the counter again, her voice firm.

You pouted, but her no-nonsense expression left little room for negotiation. With a dramatic sigh, you hoisted yourself back onto the counter, crossing your arms and watching her resume her work as you absentmindedly swing your legs.

It didn’t take long for boredom to set in. Your eyes wandered around the kitchen, landing on a nearby tea towel. An idea sparked, mischievous and irresistible. Grabbing the towel, you twisted it tightly, creating a makeshift whip. You waited for the perfect moment, watching as Alexia turned her back to you.

With a flick of your wrist, the towel snapped against her backside with a satisfying thwack. Alexia yelped, clutching the spot and spinning around to face you. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“¿Qué hiciste?” she demanded, her voice sharp but tinged with disbelief.

You froze, your laughter dying in your throat as you saw the look on her face. Without thinking, you slid off the counter and made a break for it, darting out of the kitchen. “It was an accident!” you called over your shoulder, though your grin betrayed you.

“¡Vuelve aquí!” Alexia shouted, her footsteps echoing as she chased after you.

You rounded the corner into the living room, but you weren’t fast enough. Alexia caught you easily, her arms wrapping around your waist as she tackled you onto the sofa, her legs ending up on either side of your hips.

“You are in trouble now,” she said, her voice low and teasing as she pinned you beneath her, hands circling your wrists.

“I’m sorry!” you said between giggles, though your hands came up to cover your face as she started tickling your sides mercilessly.

“Lo siento? That’s all?” she taunted, raising an eyebrow as she leaned closer.

You nodded quickly, your laughter making it hard to breathe. “Yes! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

She finally relented, her hands still resting on your sides as she hovered over you. Her eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “You are lucky I love you,” she said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I know,” you replied, grinning up at her. “You can’t resist me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, allowing you to sit up before pulling you into a tight hug. She was straddling your lap now, and the familiar sensation of her weight on top of you was oh so comforting. Your arms circled her waist as burrow your nose into her neck, and you hear her hum in content as she wriggled forward a little to get closer to you, her hands running absentmindedly through your hair.

You hold one another in silence for a few moments before the smell of food reminded her of the stove, and she sighed dramatically as she pulled away and climbed off of your lap. “I need to check on dinner. You stay here.”

You stuck out your tongue but obeyed, watching her walk back to the kitchen with a satisfied smile.

**

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