#rose divider is mine too

[p1xiemeat]

[vagabond-umlaut]

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

Or: you and the two fearsome monsters, your knightly husband must wage a war against everyday, for the sake of a glimpse of you.

▸ dad!gojo satoru x mom!reader; 1.45 wc; fluff, fluff, gallons and gallons of fluff; a pair of cute, possessive and too-wise-for-their-age babies who love their mama wayyy too much; poor miserable deprived 'toru; sprinkles of humor too added in there; implied no curses!au

▸ i dump the blame of this on @afortoru's shoulders. A, look what you made me do ▸ writing this genre for the 1st time! characters, image or divider used aren't mine. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Do you know what’s the best thing about work? 

Every evening it ends early. 

Do you know what’s the best thing about home? 

Every evening you’re there.   

Walking into the barely-lit flat, a soft smile lights up the expanse of Satoru’s face as the quiet sounds of snoring float over from the bedroom. Dumping the bag on the sofa and shrugging off the coat, the man moves silently further into the apartment – weary mind conjuring images of you in an oversized black tee [of his], curled into yourself in the king-sized bed, the cutest little pout on your lips as you babble in your sleep – then pauses, a hand on the doorknob.  

Two pairs of blue eyes sparkle at him from the almost-darkness of the room.  

Satoru closes the door behind and slumps against it.  

Two matching grins aim at his heart from the human blanket over your form. 

Sharp. Shrewd. Cruel. 

You wrap an arm round each of those two monkeys – the latter back here from their grandparents', two days before schedule.  

Ten years ago, were anyone to tell Satoru there would be a day in the future when he would have to fight for you, only to taste defeat, again and again and again, the man would have emptied his glass of champagne on their clothes, then kicked them out of the reception party. 

Yet, now... as he trudges closer to the door and extends a hand to brush a few wily wisps of hair away from your forehead – only to have it slapped away harshly by a little palm – he can’t help but wonder what sin he committed in his previous birth, to have received an angel like you as his wife, but two demons like them for his children.  

Sachiko, the older of the twins, glares up at her father. “Papa, no!! Mama’s sleeping,” She whisper-yells, eyes darting from him to you than back to him, lips tugged down in a scowl, the likes of which he has only seen in a mirror. On your other side, a mop of white hair nods, albeit not without a tiny yawn – Sachiro’s definitely inherited your sleepiness in a rainy weather.  

Satoru lifts an eyebrow in return. “I can see that, you two. Now go, play with your toys or something. I wanna cuddle with my wife.” 

“But we too wanna cuddle with Mama,” Sachiko retorts as she slips out from under your arm and sits up on the bed. The tiny ponytail on her white head stays in a complete disarray; your husband watches your daughter tug at it a couple of times, frowning, before she gives up, returning her glower to him as she continues, “So, you can’t cuddle with her. Mama is ours now.” 

Your son again gives a small “yes” at her words, followed by a yawn – a reaction which Sachiko doesn’t deem to be enough, apparently, given how she throws a glare his way next. “Hey, whose team are you on, dumbo? Mine or Papa’s?” 

The answer arrives in an instant, in the most matter-of-factly voice possible from a five-year-old. “Yours, obviously. I don’t want Papa to steal Mama away. She’s ours.” 

The smug grin directed his way next makes Satoru want to flick two foreheads pretty hard – but he doesn’t. Any rash or impulsive action can only do him more harm now, driving him further away from his goal.  

So, cogs whirring in his brain, he crouches down to his kids’ eye level and smiles.  

“What do you think of a compromise, kids? Why don’t you make a deal with me?”  

Two pairs of blue clash with the original pair of blue for a while, suspicion in one, suspicious curiosity in the other, while challenge swirls in the last; before a huff breaks the staring contest and your daughter folds her arms across her chest. Exchanging a glance and a nod with her, your son too sits up and announces, “Okay, we’re interested. What’s the deal?” 

Your husband lets out an internal whoop of victory. 

“Belgian chocolates in exchange for a cuddling session with my wife.” 

“Bleh!” Sachiko makes a disgusted face – something which takes him back to his younger days when Suguru and Shoko used to imitate his expressions – and whines, “They are so bitter, yuck! Suggest something better.” 

“A doll house for you and a car for Sachiro, if that’s the case.” 

The latter is the one to turn down this time. Tone brimmed with disappointment – something he can only ever learn from you – he says, “But you just bought us one last month, Papa! Mama always asks you to save money... why don’t you ever listen to her?” 

A knife of guilt lodges itself into his heart and twists. Satoru sighs. “I do... I try to, always, but you two make it so difficult for me to! Why are you like this? Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her? She is as much my wife as much she’s your mom.” 

“We know,” The addressed two answer in unison with sage little nods of their head. The girl continues with a grave expression matching her brother’s, “But we can also ask you the same, Papa. She is as much our mom as she’s your wife. Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?”  

“Besides, you spent five extra years with her, before we were born. We just want to make up for the time lost,” Sachiro chimes in with a pout. “Tell us, Papa,” The two again speak in a heart-wrenching chorus, “Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?” 

“The kids are right, y’know?” A mumble pops the gravity of the situation at hand, and Satoru looks down to find you awake, cracking an amused smile at them. He huffs, rising from the floor and plopping on the bed next to you, arms folded against chest.

“Can’t believe I am so unloved and unwanted in this world. My kids don’t love me. They don’t listen to me. My wife too doesn’t love me. She never supports me. Welp, got to be the unluckiest to be in my shoes right now, I guess.” 

Your husband pauses, giving a small break for the words to sink into everyone, before you let out a long exhale and send him a minor twitch of your lips. Sachiko moves to pat his head, the same moment Sachiro reaches over to clasp his small arms around his neck. You too rise and embrace him from behind, placing a small kiss in between his shoulder blades.  

“Y’know, it’s not like that,” You say, placing your ear on his back, “Just ’cause the kids love me more doesn’t mean they don’t love you. And it’s not even your fault – my personality is so awesome, everyone can’t help but adore me the moment they see me – isn't that right, babies?” 

“Right, Mama,” A pair of wonderstruck voices ring out in reply to your jocular question – you continue in the same note, with another kiss, this time on the nape of his neck.

“And because your awesome Mama’s asking you now, will you two be good babies and let Papa too sleep here with us? Look at him: he’s so tired and sad. You don’t want your dearest Papa to be sad and tired, right? You will let him cuddle with us, won't you?” 

Satoru watches the twins look at each other for a second, then the younger acquiesce, “Papa can cuddle with us. That’s okay, maybe.” The two then proceed to shoot a particularly sharp look at him; one he responds to with a cheeky smirk, which disappears into a soft smile when he feels you manoeuvre his face towards yourself, a light grasp on his chin.  

“See, the kids agreed. Now, are you feeling loved and wanted?” 

“Infinitely more,” He replies with a peck on your lips – however, before he can deepen the kiss a tad more, you bring him into a sleeping posture beside you, the kids immediately piling on top of the two of you. You offer him something between a cute pout and a sorry smile, which earns a wink from your husband. 

Turning to one side, Satoru drags you, Sachiko lying on top of you and Sachiro lying in between him and you, into himself, letting him be lulled to sleep by the melody of your laughs and your kids’ half-hearted harrumphs.

  

Do you know what’s the best thing about life? 

Every tiniest bit of it he gets to spend beside you, the light of his life, and the two imps, your and his love brought into this world – even if he knows he’s going to get kicked out of bed the very microsecond you fall asleep again. 

▸ masterlist

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉…𝓈𝒽ℴ𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹

req: Rafe X r. She has only had one boyfriend and that’s the only person she has been intimate with. Because of her more sweet introverted shy nature, he assumes that she has never done anal so Rafes jokes about “at least getting to claim her first somewhere else” but then gets so shocked when she confesses.

a/n: i thought of season one Rafe for this for some reason. Also im trying new formats lol my older ones sucked and im trying to figure out better ones. send some inspo maybe??

warnings: smut, fem!reader, possessive rafe, anal, a lil titty sucking (I’m not sorry) porn w plot, praise kink hehehe, names (baby, my girl)

MASTERLIST

divider below by @/plutism

“Hey,” Rafe rasped out from behind you, you jumping and turning to him. His hands went to your shoulders, eyes looking you up and down in your dress.

You thought that he was still in his room, you were clearly wrong. You had stayed the night at Tannyhill for Midsummers, and Ward insisted on you staying in the guest bedroom.

This was your first time seeing Rafe in this suit, and God, it was hot on him.

“Jesus, don’t scare me.” You pouted and gently shoved his chest, a playful smirk on his face. “But, hi.”

“You look good.” He told you, a smile also forming on your face at his compliment.

“You do too.” You replied shyly, cheeks burning at his compliment. You knew that look in his eyes all too well. That look of lust, of need, his eyes glossed over and turned a darker shade. He leaned in to kiss you, his hands traveling down your back, and to the curve of your ass.

You let out a little moan when he squeezed the flesh through your dress. When he pulled away, you shook your head. He pouted at you.

“C’mon. Just like… one round.” He tried, already trying to get you on the guest bed that you slept in for the night

“After.” You murmured against his lips, Rafe pulled away when he heard a knock on the door.

“Y/n, Rafe, c’mon! You’re gonna make us all late.” Ward spoke, you sighing. Rafe opened the door for you.

“Oh, you two look adorable.” Rose told you, a crooked smile on her face when you both walked out together.

You gave her a shy smile, Rafe turned to you, whispering something in your ear.

“Hey, we’re gonna spend the night at Top’s.” He told his dad. Ward just nodded and said goodbye, not thinking anything of it.

You giggled as he pulled you away from the crowd, and you both walked hand in hand down the street.

“Why are we staying at a hotel again?” You asked him, turning to look at the boy.

“Well, there’s only one reason, right?” He said with a smile on his face, turning to look at you.

“What’s that reason?”

“You don’t know the reason?” He teased. You shook your head.

“Just tell me!”

“Well, I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you. And then we are gonna go get drunk. As drunk as we possibly can.” He said shamelessly with a shrug, your cheeks burned up and you shook your head at his word choice, just glad that the buzzing cars and the sound of loud music blared through so no passerby’s could hear.

You both got the best room that money could buy, Rafe opening the door for you and leading you inside, smirk on his face.

He pushed you down on the bed, hovering on top of you, his lips traveled down your body.

“God, all fuckin’ mine, huh?” He murmured, more to himself. His hands went to your back, you arched your back and helped him shove the dress off of your body.

“At least I can claim you first somewhere else, right?” He murmured, smirk on his face as his eyes raked down your body, his hands working at his belt and pants.

“What does that mean?” You asked him with a quirked eyebrow.

“You lost your virginity to that other douche, right?”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, still very confused.

“He hasn’t fucked that ass, though.”

Your eyes widened, looking around the room. His hands were now tugging off his boxers before you started stuttering, holding a hand out.

“What? You don’t wanna?” He asked you, stopping and looking down at you, slightly afraid he scared you and did something wrong.

Usually you were up for everything, and you both had brought up the topic before and you said you wouldn’t mind it.

“No- no, I do, but- I…” you shut your eyes as you mumbled the words out, confessing to him. “He did.”

“What?” His eyes widened, movements stopping for a moment.

“He has before.”

“Shit.” He laughed out, running a hand through his hair. That was not what he expected.

“Are you mad?” You asked him quietly, opening your eyes now, looking up at him.

“Course not, baby.” He scoffed. “Just… shocked.“

“I’m sorry.” You murmured.

“Nah. That’s alright. Because it’s all fucking mine now, ain’t it?” He asked, lips back on your skin, leaning down to kiss your cheeks and your neck, you letting out a moan and nodding against him.

“Fuck. All mine.” He muttered against your collarbone, his lips moving against your boobs, he looked up at you as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, taking one in your mouth, making you let out a cry of his name and look back down at him.

He released it with a ‘pop’, going back down to your holes. He spit on his hand, before bringing it down to his cock, jerking it a few times with grunts and groans before lining it up with your tight hole.

Your hands went to his shoulders, letting out a gasp and a sob as he stretched your hole out.

“Shhh, shhh, shh..” he told you, groans escaping his mouth as he felt your walls clench onto him. “You’re a’ight.” He murmured, going to kiss you again, licking away your salty tears.

He sighed when he bottomed out, waiting for you to get adjusted to his size. After a while, you nodded against him. “You can move.” You whispered out, causing him to slowly start moving, a hand going to your clit, rubbing circles on the button, you letting out soft and quiet moans that were like music to his ears.

“God, you feel so good.” He told you, feeling you clench down harder on his length at his praise, a small smirk on his face. “My girl. Fuck,”

“Rafe!” You cried out, nails clawing at his bare back, sure to leave marks. “I’m gonna-“

“I know, I know.” He grunted out, feeling himself also come close, his fingers working faster on your clit, pressing down on it. That was all you needed to come undone, crying out his name and holding him closer, as he came in your ass with groans and grunts.

You both panted, foreheads put together as he started to laugh. You furrowed your eyebrow and looked at him, confused.

“We need to do that more often.”

[traumatrios]

i can't stop thinking about Stanford!art in his backwards hat!! could u maybe write something for Stanford art plsss no pressure tho.

warnings! frat boy!art, drinking and suggestiveness (?)

josie’s notes! loved this look sm 🧎‍♀️ pls tell me if yall understand the ending bc idk if i was too vague…

You don’t know where it came from— besides the obvious Stanford merch shop on campus. Art just began to wear the cap every day. He always defended the look with “it helps keep the hair from my eyes” and how the girls “totally dig it”.

He was right, even when being sarcastic about it. You did ‘dig’ it.

It gave him the flare of a true college stud, especially when he decided to join a lesser-known frat and paired the red hat with a Kappa Alpha t-shirt on.

God, you would feel the drool pooling in your mouth the first time he gave you a peek at the new look.

Frat boys weren’t your type, but when Art sported the charisma one could get only from brotherhood, it was just so attractive.

“If you take a picture it will last longer.”

Art appeared in front of you with a red solo cup in one hand and the other stuffed into his jeans. Fuck, you were caught.

Parties became a regular occurrence in Art’s social life, which eventually meant it became one in yours, too. Especially when your mutual friends swear you’re only seen together… which isn’t true!

“You don’t think my eyes are pretty?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at the boy, your intoxicated state influencing the confidence that gushed from your features.

“Very pretty,” he smiled. Art was surprisingly tolerant of his alcohol, which is something you’ve questioned for the past two years of your close friendship. You, on the other hand.

“Mm, like your hat,” you reached a hand up to twist the rim of his cap. Now he had been shadowing his forehead rather than the back of his neck.

Now he looked like a golfing dad, especially with the million dollar twinkle in his eye and the way he charmed you to the bone.

Unhappy with the new look, Art took the hat completely off of his head and fixed it on yours. The canvas material of the hat wrinkled around the width of your head and even slid to the space between your brows. Nonetheless, your smile persisted.

He was convinced it lit up the whole room.

“Your head is big,” was all you could say, giggling at how he rolled his eyes and threatened to take the hat back by lunging one of his large hands toward the cap. You swung up your forearm in defense, turning your head away from the boy.

Art pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you twirl away from his playful attacks. “Mine now?” you asked.

“No-no, but keep it on ‘til the morning,” he flicked your forehead, just above the adjustable snaps of the cap.

You rose an eyebrow in question. “Morning?”

Art didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just wrapped his fingers around the rim of your cup sauntered off to the kitchen.

divider by @benkeibear!

[sarawritestories]

Serenity Found

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: A quiet night in, causes the General of the Night Court to Reveal his true feelings to you.

Content Warning: None

Word count: 592

A/N: I'm sorry I keep promising things and not delivering. I'm juggling a lot and writing has been put to the back burner so much so I cried about it today. So here is a cute fluffy drabble for you. If you see any mistakes...no you didn't.

Dividers by the beautiful @tsunami-of-tears

ACOTAR MASTERLIST Taglist Request

The warmth from the flames in the library fought against the winter chill that had blanketed Velaris. Tucked into a blanket, your head finding purchase in the lap of your best friend, The General of the Night Court’s Armies. His fingers were idly gliding through your hair as he read his novel. Looking up at him for a moment; you were entranced by Cassian’s rugged beauty.

Illuminated by the fire crackling in the hearth, his face had a golden glow, his hair up in a bun, a few stray pieces framing his face that now held stubble after going days without shaving. His wings were relaxed against the couch. You fought the urge to press your thumb against the crease between his eyebrows as his Hazel irises focused on his book.  Unable to resist the urge much longer you reached up to do just that when his free hand gripped your wrist. “Knock it off.” His tone was light, and a smile appeared causing your heart to flutter. He resembled one of the old gods that Rhys’ mom would tell you about, handsome, kind and exudes raw power off his body. All those attributes describe your best friend of centuries. You were the moment he smiled at you and remained his when he had rescued you from the cruel fate of servitude. If only he realized he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

He remained unaware and you were left with a void in your heart the size of an Illyrian warrior.

The Mother was a cruel vixen.

“Sweetheart?” You blinked and noticed his smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of concern. “Where did you go?”

You smiled, “No where, I just missed you,” You turned back to your own book.

His hand grazed your arm, the soft scrap of his callouses against your skin, causing a shiver to race down your spine. “I promise to not be away for so long. I missed our reading nights. Being near you brings me such…”

“Serenity?” You glanced back to see him give a curt nod. Heat crept to your face at his admission, “Me too.”

Cassian’ lightly pulled your arm so you were facing him once more, “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay?” I rose from my spot to give him my full attention.

“Can I show you?” My head tilted, “Its better if I show you.”

You weren’t sure if your heart was beating, “Of course, Cassian. I trust you.”

Cassian’s Hazel’s eyes held your gaze with an intensity that wasn’t there a moment previously. “Good.” He cupped your face, and, in a moment, his lips were on yours. Quickly grip his waist in your hands he pulled you close. Pulling away before you could deepen the kiss, Cassian wraps a muscled arm around your waist and places his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Cassian.” You whispered your chest warming as the gold thread tethered your soul to his. You pushed him slightly as if you could see the thing tethering you two together. “You’re my-

You looked up to find the General’s face morph from shock to pure happiness, “Mate. You’re mine.”

No longer fighting your urge you slid into his lap and peppered his stubbled face with kisses. “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And as the night went on you two sat in the library, in each other’s arms fast asleep. As two lonely souls morphed into one. Calmness falling between them as sleep consumed them.

Finding Serenity at last.

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @lanea-1 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[sepherinaspoppies]

Riding the Dragon- Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: after a great dinner with Aemond, he decides to give you a ride on his motorcycle, a Dragon T6.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, public smut, pussy on bike, cum play?, reader getting off on Aemond's bike, some tiddy succin, mentions of p in v sex, I think that it?

wc: 3,064

click here to be added to my general taglist!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

masterlist

click here for a tiktok that gives off aemond in this story lo

notes: this is my first time writing in reader's pov? the whole 'you' kind of perspective. I apologize if it sucks ass, I wanted to try something different. And can y'all believe I wrote majority of this when I was ovulating? HAHA

“I had a really nice time tonight.” The man in front of you says with a content and flirtatious smile on his pretty chiseled face. 

Heat coats through your cheeks to the tip of your ears. Definitely not the effect of the two glasses of wine you’d drunk not too long ago. Wine hardly ever did a number on you to slightly fuddle your conscience. 

You give him a sheepish grin, scraping the tips of your heels against the pavement, shying away from the intensity that his eye holds. “Same here. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His face contorts in a way that clearly indicates that the feeling is in fact very, mutual. “Mind if I take down your number?” He asks, pulling out the latest new Iphone from his pocket. You only engaged in conversation through the dating app both of you met in and you thought it seemed only fair to give him your number after weeks of meeting him.

He taps a few things on his screen before you’re met with a white screen with only your first name and birthday typed. It is then when you wonder how he came about on knowing your birthday, if you had ever mentioned it in your electrifying conversations either on the app or this date. Most likely the second option. 

You knew his name, well if you’d call it that, supplying you only his first initial. By his angelic looks, he was definitely of Valyrian descent. And you hate how much of a sucker you were for those blonde bitches. You knew he was in the last year of university, double majoring in political science and business here in the capital. You also knew he had a geriatric maine coon cat, Vhagar, who’d stuck with him since he was a child. 

But that was pretty much it. 

You nod, typing out the most critical information both of you needed in order to secure the second date. “Here you go,” you hand back his phone with such caution that causes his lips to quiver in a smirk. 

He leans forward, too forward in a way you feel his breath steadily fanning your face and the warmth that radiates through his chest. You don’t pull away as his head lowers, keeping your gaze steady with his, admiring the amethyst hue of his lone eye that twinkles against the low street lights. 

A snakes his hand around your hips, which normally you’d slap away if it was any other man. But he was different. A rare gentleman who bought you a single winter rose even when you were five minutes late, let you devour the fries off his plate, and hashed your steak without asking. 

You wanted him to kiss you and perhaps even more. 

You wouldn’t say no. If anything you’d whimper out a simple “please” if it came to that. 

However, just as you expect his lips, it doesn’t come. He pulls away with a lupine smirk on his face, waiting for a response to a question you did not hear.

You cough away the slight embarrassment, “What?” 

“I asked what your password was,” 

Before you process how he did it, you see him wave the gray screen of your phone around your face, waiting for the six digit code. 

Oh. 

“I got your number but you did not get mine and you’re gonna need it when I take you out to dinner again.” The blonde in front of you points out. 

True.

It almost feels too goofy revealing the code that multiple of your friends tease you for. Nevertheless, you stutter out the numbers: one, two, three, four, five, and six. 

You hear him dryly laugh, shaking his head side to side as he types out the three sets of numbers. “Mmm, you need a better password, darling. One might think you want your personal information stolen,” He teases. You shift your thighs to a close at the term of endearment, already feeling the slightest tingles in a place where you desired him the most. 

You make a sound of agreement making a mental note to change it later tonight. After he hands back your phone, he combs back the loose silvery hair out of his face into a neat bun that well flatters his face. “Take mine for example; it’s five, twenty-two, one-thirty. Easy to remember.” 

“Is that your cat’s birthday?” You questioned. 

“No. It’s the day we matched on Tinder.” 

You are lost for words. Not even you knew the exact date you matched with him, only knowing it was around a few weeks ago. Judging by your reaction, he knew what you were thinking. 

After a few more rounds of flirtatious conversations, you both decided to call it a night, waving each other goodnight as you watched as he sped up in a black, shiny Dragon T6, a vintage motorcycle that was the second most precious thing he owned. (The first being Vhagar). You’d be lying if that wasn’t one of the list of reasons why you swiped right. A tall Valyrian man, with long locks, that rode a motorcycle definitely modeled the countless dark romance books you’d spent hours reading. 

To your frustration, the price of Uber had doubled the amount you’d paid for hours ago. Not even Uber Share happened to be near your price range. For ten gold dragons, you could buy a week’s worth of groceries!

So you sighed, turning off your phone. Your usual bus was still in service and way cheaper than the ridiculous prices of Uber. And while it was too late to be out by yourself, it was a risk you were willing to take. 

As you rummage through your wallet for some copper coins, you hear a deep, rumbling sound of an engine revving up close to where you stand. 

It’s him. Braking his bike on the side of the road where you are. His expensive Lysene suit coat no longer hugged his body, wearing only a white dress shirt that was half unbuttoned, giving you an impeccable view of his perfectly rounded cleavage and the multiple hidden tattoos you didn’t know he had. 

“Hop in,” He says, pointing his head to the side. It was not a request but a demand. 

You tilt your head, unsure whether to say yes or no. “Is it safe?” You ask. His chest moves, seemingly laughing as he opens the visor of his helmet. “Of course it is. I’m a cautious driver, never had an accident and I don’t think I ever will. I made sure to drink water after a glass of wine, so I’m not under the influence.” 

He narrows his eye, observing the hesitation written throughout your face. He offers the spare helmet from his bag and hopes that it will coax the uneasiness. 

“If you’re so dubious about it then by all means the bike is yours to drive.” 

It’s your turn to laugh because the thought of you riding something of high value and rarity seemed absurd and silly. You were someone who did not have experience in driving in general whilst also being terrified of the narrow and steep roads of King’s Landing. 

But there was no humor in A’s eye. 

“You’re not serious are you?” 

He powers off the bike before he scoots back from his seat. “I am.” He eagerly pats the spot he has saved for you. 

“You do realize that this is a Dragon T6, right? They practically don’t make these anymore!” You gesture your hands around the expensive looking machine that was probably worth more than your left kidney. 

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms on his chest. “What’s your point?”

You scoff playfully, “My point is that manufacturers don’t make these anymore and if I crash it–”  

“–You should have a little more faith in yourself. Maybe this will come naturally to you but you’ll never know if you don’t try.” 

You can’t help but exhale in slight failure. This was a conversation you knew you couldn’t win with him. “Look, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing but I happen to be a great teacher. And if you do crash I’ll buy another, they aren’t that expensive anyways.” The Valyrian man shrugs as if thousands, or hundred thousands of gold dragons were nothing. 

You mutter a “fine” under your breath which makes him all giddy with excitement and slides the helmet down your head. He double checks if it's secured before he lifts you to sit properly on his bike. 

“Or I have one or two things in mind of how you could repay me.” 

Every single piece of information he hurled your way was taken deep into your head. And you did your best to pay attention to it all under the sharp needles of nerves going through your spine. At some point he had given you little rubs up and down your back to soothe your nerves. The effect was anything but that, instead all you could think about was how his hands would feel against the bareness of your body.

Fuck. 

You tried to push those lewd thoughts away as he demonstrated the anatomy of the Dragon T6. The ignition was a little red switch right below the speedometer, whilst the clutch was on the left hand side and the accelerator in your right. The gear shift was something you had to get used to as it was not on your eye level but rather a small little lever near your foot. 

Once he feels you’ve gotten the grasp of how everything works it was time for the ultimate test. “Alright now we start. Are you ready?” He asked with an eager smile tugging his lips. 

No.

You nod your head, adjusting the mirrors to match your height. You feel the tips of his fingers lift and turn your chin towards him, “Use your words, darling.” There it was that name again that made you clutch your thighs together. You audibly gulp, “Y-yes I’m ready.”

“Good,” His hands squeeze at your hip bones to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widen almost comically to what you assume is his cock pressing insistently onto your ass. It was hard, and through the thin material of your dress you could feel it throbbing full of want and need. Gods, how will you ever focus now?

A brief image flashed through your mind of how much and what was packing underneath his undergarments. The length and thickness and how it would feel wrapped around your palm as you’d stroke him from base to tip, or the taste of him as you’d take him inside your mouth, or having his full length stuffed deep inside you as he fucked you dumb. 

Something tells you that he knows what you are thinking but neither of you speak about it. 

Finally, he takes your hands onto the handles of the clutch and the accelerator and you, being a step ahead, check if the gear is on neutral before you release the clutch and to your satisfaction it is. The blonde behind you smiles at you proudly like a teacher would to their student. 

“Now, you’re gonna slowly release the clutch and twist the accelerator slightly…there you go, good girl. You’re doing such a good job.” He coos at your ear. 

The beat of your heart raced almost out of your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of a small accomplishment or the low timbre of his voice praising you but you welcomed it. 

With confidence you didn’t know you had, you decided to drive the rest of the way to your apartment without complications and took up every tip the man behind you advised. The cool air kissing your skin and the adrenaline wildly pumping through your veins, awoke something in you and slowly you began to comprehend why A loved riding. 

You had felt like a small bird taking its first flight through the skies. 

When you both reached the parking lot to your apartment, you returned his helmet and a small part lingering inside you did not want to let it go. You enjoyed it and the freedom it brought you.  

“That was so fun! I can’t believe it was that easy. Think I need to save me up for one of these,” You quipped patting the bike. 

He throws his head back to let out an amused laugh, “Or I can just give you this one,” A tone of nonchalant laced through his voice. 

You look at him baffled, “I was–” 

“–But first we need to get you your license before I–” 

“–Absolutely not, I was jesting.” You snipped, making him roll his eyes with a slight pout drawing out his lips.

“You’re stubborn and difficult, has anyone told you that?” You chortle thinking of the numerous times you’ve been called that. 

“Plenty of times but I reckon this won’t be the last.” 

He hums tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “I guess I have to fuck it out of you.”

You blink.

The hue of your cheeks increased tenfold, your feet and body became paralyzed to what he had just confessed. 

Had he just said that to shut you up? If so it worked. 

You didn’t know how to respond to something as bold as that and to your inclination you lowered your head but the blonde behind you couldn’t have that. You felt the tips of his fingers roughly grip your jaw to meet his gaze. The amethyst hue of his eye turned into a darker shade of violet as he eyed between your eyes then your lips. 

Every part of you screamed for him to kiss you or to do something to appease the longing. 

You instinctively parted your lips when his head began to dip towards your lips. The tip of his nose brushed delicately against your own then it slowly trailed to sniff at your neck, the sweet smell of spiced peaches. 

“Nyke jaelagon ao,” He whispered in his mother language. 

“Pār emagon issa,” You said before you mentally said ‘fuck it’ and knocked the wind out of him with a kiss. 

He lets out a mix between a growl and a groan as he feels your wandering hands tugging the roots of his hair. Something you yearned to do ever since you saw how long and silky his hair was. 

And Gods did it meet your expectations. 

His lips moved against yours most ardently and with equal fervor. It was hungry and needy the way your teeth clashed with his, tongues dancing for dominance until you hissed when he bit your lower lip. 

You melted into his warm embrace, deciding to tease him by rubbing your palm on his clothed length, detecting a damp patch. You shot your eyes open, separating away your lips. 

“Did you just cum?” You panted heavily. 

A smirked, “I came when you first got on the bike and I was about to cum right now.” 

You quirked a brow, “That’s what did it for you?” Redness coated his cheeks and before you knew it his lips were on you again and his hands lifted the hem of your dress, exposing the black lacy panties you wore just for him. 

“Incase you get lucky,” Your best friend Sara teased just the day before when you and her took a shopping trip to a Lysene lingerie store. 

Through some imaginary telepathic communication, you thanked Sara. 

He groaned feeling the wetness that gathered through your folds. You weren’t just wet, you were dripping like honey on a hot summer’s day. A mischievous idea popped into his mind, something so lewd that made the head of his cock twitch with excitement. 

You squealed as he swiftly turned you around and twisted the ignition switch on. Was he going to make you drive in this state? 

“Move your panties to the side.” He commanded behind you. 

You pushed away the curiosity and did what he bid you to do. “Good girl. Now lean forward a bit.” You shifted yourself forward until you could feel the warm metal of his seat pressing tenaciously at your bare cunt. 

A gasp turned into drawn out moans as the blonde behind you revved the accelerator at a speed that made stars appear in your eyes. It felt good, so obscenely good that all thoughts about being in a public setting flew right over your head. 

You began to grind yourself with the vibrations, creating as much friction to your bud as you could. 

“That’s it, darling,” He encouraged behind you, increasing power to the accelerator just enough for your arousal to coat his bike. “Fuck yourself on my Dragon.” 

You clenched around nothing, whining as you felt the pure waves of ecstasy slithering down your spine. It was unlike anything you ever felt, not even the vibrator you owned made you topple over the edge.

In ten seconds or less, you loudly moaned, not caring who heard or saw you, as your legs shaked and the coil around your stomach loosened, cumming absolutely hard. 

Your limbs felt entirely spent as if you ran three laps around Rhaenys’ hill. 

“Mmm, do not get too comfortable, now, darling.” He boasted smugly as his fingers scoop your honey to his lips, humming at the delicious taste. “I haven’t even fucked you senseless yet and after witnessing this I want nothing more but to ruin your ability to walk straight for week.” 

A low whine escaped your lips at the thought of him roughly taking you. “Is that what you want?” He questioned, lowering the straps of your dress to expose your breasts to his gaze. 

You sighed contently, feeling his tongue enclosing around your perk nipple. “Yes please,” You tenderly loop your fingers through his hair. 

“I promise I will never make you beg,” He murmurs against your breast, “But you sound so pretty when you do.” 

He had kept true to his word as he not only bent you over his bike as he fucked you raw, but took you three more rounds on your couch, bed and shower until you absolutely passed out in his arms. And for the rest of the week you couldn’t walk straight without limping. Thanks to Aemond Targaryen. 

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche @iamkookiesforyou @jeben196 @just-a-harmless-patato @moneypriestess @ladymoon666 @angelinap09

empty is who I couldn't tag sowwy besties.

[haechvn]

Dating Shuri Udaku Headcanons

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Fluff, Toxic!Shuri, Angst and Smut since yall nasty asf

Summary/Request: I got so many requests for an update so here it is!

Word Count: 1k words

Author’s Note: I decided to make her mean since you hoes wanna be treated like shit or whatever. I'm getting back into my groove with this one for sure. 18+ MDNI fr or imma beat yall ass. NEED MORE SHURI GIFS WTH

Taglist: @inmyheadimobsessed @theblacksuccubus @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @theblacksuccubus @cherios @shuris-whore @nut4shuri @gaspyghosttt @elliesdinosauar @idkhersposts @ziayamikaelson @trinthebean @sleepingnova @yunhofingers

Credits: @anitalenia for the super cute dividers get into itttt

Fluff 

Cooks breakfast for you every morning after the two of you have sweet and reckless nights together 

Loves getting the two of you matching sets of grillz. Gold, silver, diamond studded. It doesn't matter

Brings you alongside her for all of her council meetings as she truly values your opinion and wants you to be involved and know your role in leading the nation with her

Has a throne for you next to hers 

Trains you with the Dora because she doesn’t want what happened last time with Namor to ever repeat itself

Buys you whatever you want right off each and every runway during all the major Fashion Week shows

Always get the biggest section when y’all got out and you betta be shaking that ass cause she gon be throwing them bills babyyyy

The amount of decorated hotel rooms you get from her is ridiculoussss. She’ll decorate a whole hotel for you just because she loved seeing your smile in the morning.

Always has her hand in yours no matter what the two of you are doing. Even hold your hand while you two brush your teeth

Never breaks eye contact with you while the two of you are speaking

Has more that 100 nicknames for you

Toxic/Angsty 

Purposely starts arguments with you because it turns her on to see you riled up and she can’t stop thinking about you putting her back in her place

Used a bit too much of her strength on you during training and you had to stay in the hospital for a few nights. She locked herself in her room and couldn’t even stand to look at you when you were released. 

Sometimes she lacks empathy because she believes she’s gone through the worse shit. She definitely gaslights you sometimes and walks away if you complain to her about having family issues

“Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom everyday. Where’s mine? Oh yea right. I’m done listening”

Tries to deny that she felt anything for RiRi but will constantly talk about how beautiful she is just to get you jealous. You end up beating her ass bc wtf

One of those lesbians that doesn't like when you talk to other women bc why the fuck would you?

Will look you dead in the eyes and tell you that you aren’t more important than her work and you should just leave her alone and spend the money she gives you. She sent 2 mil to your account while you stormed out of the lab

She’ll deny you sex because she didn’t like the way you spoke to the Dora earlier that morning. You said hi 

She sometimes embarrassed by the lack of strength you have. Like tighten up tf

“Can you stop touching me? Even the Dora don’t smother me this much.”

Hates when you constantly run your hands through her hair like she didn’t just get it done

Kisses her teeth when you try to shake your ass and it doesn’t move the way she want it too

“Try harder maybe? Ugh just stop actually. You look cringe doing that” LIKE WHERE'S YOUR ASS MA'AM????

Smut

Shuri likes when you eat her pussy with her panther suit on. Yes. That part is cut out 

She has different grillz for eating your pussy and then ones for eating you ass— SHE A BOTTOMFEEDAAAA

Shuri loves pressing her kimoyo beads against your clit and sending intense vibrations there. Rose toy who???

She eats your pussy at night sometimes because if you look hard enough while she’s making your head spin, her inner bottom lip glows softly with her vibranium tattoo, being the only source of light in the room

LOVES WHEN YOU DRILL HER SHIT TO THE POINT THAT SHE CANT BREATHE AND TRIES TO GRASP AROUND BUT SHE CANT BC THE VIBRANIUM CUFFS TOO STRONG EVEN FOR HER SO SHE HAS TO BEG YOU TO RELEASE HER EVEN THOUGH SHE KNOWS YOU WON’T AHHH

Can literally eat you out for hours and against your (consented) will, she definitely does

RIDES YOU IN THE NASTIEST SLOPPIEST WAY LIKE SHE LOVES SEEING YALL CREAM MIX AND IS OBSESSED WITH HOW STICKY SHE IS AND HOW MUCH STICKIER YOU ARE UGH SHE PRESSES HER LIPS AGAINST YOUR AS IF SHE CAN GO INSIDE YOU BYEEEEEEE

SHE AINT NO FAKE GAY NO MA’AM

Wakes you up most mornings with her lips sucking and teasing your breast bc babe she can’t get enough

BOTTOM!SHURI LOVES WHEN YOU SIT ON THE THRONE AND SHE TRIES TO MAKE HERSELF CUM OVER AND OVER RIDING YOUR THIGH WHILE YOU SIT ON HER THRONE OH WOW

SHE WHINES SO MUCH AND IS NOT QUIET AT ALL. Constantly getting complaints from everyone in the palace

Likes getting her ass devoured. SORRY NOT SORRY 

Kissing you alone get her wetter than river Niger omgggg (I’m African and this how we say it PLS)

Constantly talking you through EVERYTHING she does to you

“You take my fingers so well”

“Hmm, you know I love when you squeeze around me like that. Fuck, do that again.” (THE WAY SHE ROLLS HER R’S UGHHH)

“Please, I can’t take it. I-I… Fuck you feel so good. Don’t stop fucking me, put me in my place”

Never breaks eye contact with you when she’s drilling the shit out of you 

LOVES WHEN YOU FUCK HER FACE WITH ALL THE STRAPS SHES MADE IN THE LAB

Literally she’ll be in the lab with her goggles on with all her tools scattered all of the table and gets wet picturing you standing over her and using her mouth like a toy OMG

Loves when you tie her up with pink and purple ribbons and stuff her mouth with your panties BYE

LIKES BEING BLINDFOLDED AND WEARING FLUFFY EARMUFFS SO YOU CAN DO ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING TO HER AND GIVING YOU FULL CONTROL

WHITE FLUFFY EARMUFFS WITH PINK RIBBONS AND HER CURLY HAIR SHAKING AROUND EVERY TIME SHE MOVES

[chrollogy]

SFW; fluff, atsumu eats your leftovers but according to him, he has a very good reason why. inspired by my prev post but what i experienced wasn’t anything like this :(. divider: cafekitsune.

── “what part of ‘mine. don’t eat.’ do you not understand?” the question flies right into atsumu’s room the second he opened his door, sharp tone greeting him before he could even fully see your standing figure. genuinely confused, the male furrowed his brows, free hand scratching at the shaved part of his nape. and he has the audacity to look confused, you thought, head tilting to the side as the anger rose within you.

for the past few months, you’ve been roommates with atsumu—he was nothing but polite, and respectful, albeit a little rowdy at times but nothing too unmanageable. that was until two weeks ago where you had stored leftovers in the fridge at night, saving it for tomorrow’s lunch. unlucky for you, it disappeared the next morning. that was fine. okay. swallowing the unpleasant feeling that settled in your chest—maybe atsumu thought it was for him, you blame yourself for not labelling it as yours. a rookie mistake.

the second time it happened, you were beyond speechless. wanting to give atsumu the benefit of the doubt, you concluded it as a coincidence—maybe he was tired from practice, there was nothing else appetising in the fridge except your leftovers. so, again, you let it slide.

the third time, however, it was a pattern without a doubt, and you knew better than to let it slide. having to look forward to something—especially a good meal—only for it to be taken away in an instant was something you wouldn’t even wish on upon your worst enemy. though, your worst enemy was standing right before you, hand behind his head, clueless as hell. maybe you would wish it upon your worst enemy. “hm?” atsumu mirrored the tilt of your head, only spurring your annoyance further.

“my leftovers. i know you’ve been eating them, miya. we’re the only ones who live here.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut at his lack of common sense. being angry was one thing, but being both angry and hungry was a whole different discussion. “explain. i went out of my way to put a sticky note to let you know that it was mine yet you still ate it.” atsumu couldn’t help the familiar feeling blossoming in his chest—the one that occurs whenever he was in your presence.

you looked so cute all riled up. the way your brows furrowed, carving lines between your forehead or the way the corners of your lips pointed down, forming a small pout. atsumu didn’t even care that he was on the receiving end of your hangry mood. he gave you a sheepish smile, one that would’ve had your cheeks heating if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, “i’m sorry. .” his two-worded apology hung in the air, waiting to be completed.

so you stood there, arms crossed, eyes boring into his own. atsumu looked away, gaze lingering on the door hinge as if it was the most interesting piece of metal in the world. “i have a valid reason but it’s silly.” he let out an empty chuckle, hand rubbing at his nape. valid reason? what kind of reason did he have to justify him eating your leftovers? ones that you bought with your own money.

atsumu took your silence as a signal to keep going. oh god, now he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole—for the carpet beneath his feet to just split apart and let him fall into nothingness. the more atsumu scoured his mind for the right words, the more he felt like an idiot, embarrassment engulfing his every being. mind you, he wanted this to happen and now that it was playing right before his eyes, he couldn’t help but chicken out.

the sentences laced together in his mind were useless anyway when he blurted out ‘i think you’re cute’ which only deepened the creases between your brows. silence. there was about a good 10-second silence, and during the span of that, atsumu really wished he was swallowed whole. but nope, he had to face the consequences of his stupid actions.

it wasn’t because he was being a dick, no, far from that. ever since atsumu saw you walk through the shared apartment, he felt something foreign—he felt his heart skip a beat, and not in the way it would during intense rallies in a match. all atsumu knew was that he wanted to get to know you better, even if it meant getting your attention in silly little ways—although, annoying might be the better word to describe it on your end.

there was nothing but mutual respect with the bond you two shared but it was also not intimate, and atsumu craved intimacy. you’ve both remained civil ever since living with one another, giving and receiving pleasantries throughout the day, small conversations but nothing too deep. it didn’t help that you weren’t the type to make small talk, only engaging in a conversation with atsumu whenever he initiated.

so, he devised a rather smart (idiotic) plan to gain your undivided attention—to simply put it: eating your leftovers so you would notice him. atsumu mentally noted to give himself a pat on the back for mission accomplished, though, that’d have to come later since he had no backup plan for how to deal with this situation. “that’s it . . ?” he felt small under your judgement, not to mention the amusement in your tone.

atsumu would rather be on the receiving end of sakusa’s spikes than ever admit to you that he’s been craving for your attention like a lovesick puppy with its tailed tucked between its legs. alas, here he was facing the consequences, a crimson blush painted on his cheeks while animatedly explaining in complete detail of why he’s been eating your leftovers. you didn’t know whether to be upset, flattered or both.

upset because out of all ideas, atsumu thought resorting to eating your food was the best candidate. flattered because he thinks you’re cute and have been silently pining for you and your attention. both because of how silly this all sounded—the moment you came knocking on atsumu’s door, you expected a concrete explanation for his actions, not a full blown confession.

you laughed, not because of being upset nor flattered but because of how dumb the situation was. atsumu mirrored your laugh despite the gears turning in his head, trying to find a reason why you were laughing at him. “you know, you could’ve just told me about your feelings in the first place and i would have happily accepted them.” that was atsumu’s first thought but it was too easy for him (no it wasn’t, he doesn’t know how to properly talk to people he pines for.).

later in the evening, after returning from a dinner with your friends, atsumu found a singular takeaway container sitting in the fridge with a little note: for you :P <3

a few hours ago, the food would’ve been labelled as ‘mine’ to deter him from eating it but atsumu has a good assumption that he was the one labelled as yours, this time.

[cas-kingdom]

The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,776

A/N: whew. okay. we’re back, we’re updating, and we’re getting back on track. i think the motivation behind the madness is becoming a little clearer. or at least, more clear. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and especially reblogs are always appreciated. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​

It’s your wedding day, again. 

  You remember the soft white satin of your dress like it was yesterday—only it’s today, isn’t it? How can something happen again if it hasn’t happened yet? You look down at your hands, where the lacy sleeves of your wedding dress loop gracefully around your thumbs—your nails are picked raw and bleeding. You look back up at the mirror, and your own distraught face stares back at you. 

  I don’t want to get married. 

  No, that isn’t right—this is a good day, a happy day, why don’t you want it anymore? There is knowledge that dances just out of touch as you stare fuzzily at the mirror in your bridal suite. Something is wrong, but you don’t remember what it is. The mirror fragments, each component folding away as the world tilts on it’s axis, wood flooring becoming red carpet strewn with rose petals. 

  You stand at the altar, the priest beaming at you. 

  You will take him won’t you? As husband, husband and wife—Ransom splits in two like a cell, and both of them hold your hands so tight the bones creak and hurt and—

  “I love you, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling, Mine—” One voice, two mouths, one person, two bodies. You don’t realize they’re pulling until you tear, splitting right down the middle  like you’re made of tissue paper. too. Pulling you to bloody pieces as they repeat oaths of husbandly devotion. 

  My wife.

  MY  WIFE.

  You wake up in darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. It disorients you, and you blink, expecting the cloud to clear from your eyes but it doesn’t. Immediately your hand goes to your stomach, and your frantic heartbeat calms just a fraction as you rest a hand on the gentle swell. The thoughts in your head are still an anxious jumble. Ransom, Lloyd, the party—

  God, the party. 

  Your stomach churns as you recall Lloyd’s cruel smile. 

  Tell him. Tell me what he says. 

  You clap a hand to your mouth as an anguished sob threatens to escape. Ransom, Lloyd… where had they taken you? You frantically feel your way to the edge of the bed, your feet slipping a little on the cool tile as you stand. 

  “H-hello?” You call out into the darkness, but there’s no response. Trembling, you begin taking short, halting steps forward, your hands outstretched. “P-please, someone—fuck!” You curse loudly as your foot catches the edge of something, a table, a chair, you can’t tell. “Answer me!” 

  No one does. 

  You wander forward blindly until you reach a wall, and, feeling along it, you feel plaster turn to glass. You gasp, frantically dragging your hands along the surface until feel something—a switch. You flick it up, and there’s a sound like whirring gears. The lights don’t come on, but something else happens instead: the blackout shades on the other side of the thick pane of glass begin to lift, light creeping in underneath the edge. It’s blinding at first, spots dancing in your eyes as you throw a hand up to shield them, but after a moment, they adjust. 

  You see… a beach. 

  An empty beach. 

  The clear blue water comes straight up to the window like an aquarium. There are no people on the pristine, white sand—no one to hear you as you frantically beat your palm against the glass. Frantically, you turn around to take stock of the room, grabbing for a nearby chair. You knock over the little coffee table in the sitting area next to you, but you don’t care. It takes all your strength to heft it above your head, screaming as you slam it into the glass—

  But nothing happens. It connects with a dull thud, the treated wood splintering as it cracks. The window is unharmed, barely even scratched. An anguished wail tears from your chest as you throw everything within reach that you can lift, beating everything into splinters until you’re left panting and sobbing in the wreckage. 

  “Sweetheart you know that really isn’t good for the baby.” You whirl around frantically, grabbing for the leg of a chair you’d broken into kindling against the indestructible-fucking-window, brandishing it threateningly. You hadn’t even heard the sound of a door opening—in fact, as you stare, wide-eyed around the room, trying to pin down his point of entry, you can’t seem to find a door at all in the lavishly decorated suite. 

  “Fuck you!” You snarl at him, your lip curling. “Let—let me out of here!” Ransom clucks his tongue at you like you’re an errant child.

  “You’re a smart girl, Love. You know I’m not going to do that.” 

  “You can’t fucking keep me in here—” Ransom shakes his head. 

  “I can, Sweetheart. And I’m going to. We’re going to.” He casts a disparaging look down at the ruined chairs and table by your feet. “Lloyd did tell me not to put the good stuff in first—I underestimated your temper.” The casual remark makes you want to swing your makeshift bat at his head. “He designed it for you, you know. I thought we could just lock you in the basement, but now that I see it, I think this is better.” 

  “You’re a monster.” You’re crying, hard, hysterical sobs that leave your throat raw and aching. He actually has the gall to look hurt by your insult, his face crumpling as his mouth presses into a thin, angry line. 

  “A monster that loves you. That would do anything to protect you—even from yourself.” Your body seizes with fear as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, gripping your shoulders with furious hands. You whine as he squeezes, pressing harder and harder until you drop the scrap of wood you’re holding. You don’t know this Ransom, this maniacal, cruel man wearing your husband’s face, your husband’s ring. 

  “Do you remember what it was like when we got together?” He asks. Ransom shakes you a little, like he’s trying to jog your memory. “Living at home with your parents, helping them with every single bill because you were terrified your sister was going to graduate high-school on the streets—”

  “So what?” You spit back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

  “I gave you everything.” For the first time you see the same possessive madness in his eyes you’d seen in Lloyd’s. “And you think you can just walk away? Take from me until you’ve gotten your fill? That’s not how this works, Sweetheart.” He releases you and you stumble away, clutching yourself. He straightens his shirt, smoothing back the errant hairs that have fallen into his face. 

  “We’re going to give you such a good life, Sweetheart. You just have to trust us.” 

  “I will never trust you again.” You growl the words at him like a threat. “I hate you.” And then, inexplicably, he’s your Ransom again, his blue eyes soft as he looks at you, like he knows something you haven’t yet come to accept. Like an adult admonishing a child for fears they’ll soon leave behind as they grow to accept the way things are—the way they always will be. 

  “You won’t always.” His eyes flick down to the destruction you’ve wrought, and he clucks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll talk to Lloyd about bringing in some new furniture for you, if you’re good.” Ransom’s handsome mouth curves up into an amused smile. “Maybe something a little heavier.” He kicks at a piece of the table, before making his way back over to the other side of the room. A door the same color as the wall opens at his touch. 

“Lunch in an hour.” 

—

   True to his word Ransom returns with Lloyd in tow, a tray held in his large hands. You’d waited for this moment with a dark sort of anticipation, and for a brief moment, their stunned, angry expressions as the door panel slides open fill you with a sense of profound pride.

   You’d done your level best to destroy everything that wasn’t nailed down,  methodically and systematically taking apart everything you could get your hand on. Even the mattress lies ruined, feathers and wood splinters littering the torn cover. Though the mirror had refused to break—and indeed proved too heavy for you to lift—you feel a smug satisfaction in seeing what you had been able to accomplish with jagged pieces of plywood.  

  Fuck you. 

  Lloyd steps in first, squatting down to inspect a piece of the smashed coffee table. 

  “I told you we shouldn’t have put this stuff in here first. Empty room, Ransom. You always have to start with an empty room.” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles softly—affectionately. “Hi, Princess.”

  “Go to hell, Lloyd.” Ransom steps fully into your room then, shutting the door gently behind him before setting the tray on the windowsill. He sighs. 

  “I know it was stupid to hope your attitude had improved in an hour, but stranger things have happened.” He glances back at the tray. “You should eat something, Love. It’s been four days of—” His words become a static drone as the panic begins to set in. Four days? I’ve been out for four days? The questions fill your head almost faster than you can process them. Where are you? Your parents, your sister? What happened? 

  “What is this? What is this fucking place?” 

  The pride in Ransom’s eyes makes you want to vomit. “We made it for you. Just for you. It took—how long, Lloyd?” 

  “A year, give or take.” He rubs his fingers along the growing stubble on his upper lip. “And then finding staff…” He pauses. “The hotel, or just the Room?” The way Lloyd says room makes it sound singular, important. You cannot help but gape at them

  “You’re sick—both of you. Y-you—what you did to me—” You shake your head. “A-all of this.” You gesture at the room around you. “For what?” Lloyd threads his fingers together, and you can hear the soft metal click of his rings tapping against each other as he does. 

  “I know you’re not deaf, Princess. It’s for you.” 

  Cold trickles down your spine. You’ve been doing it ever since you woke up, running through each moment in the past four, five and cataloguing each one you couldn’t make make sense. You’re doing it again now,  thumbing back through the index cards of your memories and finding empty slots. Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters—Ransom had told you it had been a year, but you can’t trust that, you can’t believe him, not after everything.

  “My family won’t let you do this sick fucking shit, you know that.” You spit. “They’re not going to let you kidnap me—”

  “How much is Nathalie’s school, Sweetheart?” Ransom asks, cocking his head. “Per year.”

  “What?” The question throws you off, the freight train of words in your throat piling up messily on your tongue. “What are you—”

  “How much is her tuition?” He repeats it slowly like you’re having trouble understanding him. You bare your teeth at Ransom as you grimace. 

  “I don’t know. She has a scholarship. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s $63,000.” Ransom gives you the figure so matter-of-factly it’s like he rehearsed it. “Per year.” Your stomach sinks, like your body knows before your head. “What, you didn’t know? No one ever reads the paperwork, do they, Lloyd?” He glances at his brother over his shoulder. “What’s it say on the checks? T. H. B. Inc., doesn’t it?” He licks his lips. “The T stands for Thrombey, Sweetheart.” 

  You almost want to laugh for the insanity of it all—you even try, but no sound escapes your tight, dry throat. Lloyd nods. 

  “Same as the ones your father gets. Funny how his company’s picked up these last few years, isn’t it?” 

  Your fists clench and unclench as you sit there on the floor, staring up at them. There’s nothing left to destroy, nothing left to break except the two of them—and you already know how that ends. Instead, you’re forced to sit there, hot rage coiling in your chest as the realization dawns cold and cutting—

  Your family is already bought and paid for, even if they don’t know it. 

  “I never asked you for this.” You spit, nails biting into the meat of your palms as you press angry fists against the cool tile. “I didn’t ask you for fucking any of this!” 

  “I promised to make a home for you, didn’t I, Sweetheart?” He squats down in front of you, his hand out like he wants you to take it. “A good husband provides.” It isn’t supposed to feel like being cut into a thousand pieces to hear his wedding vows regurgitated like this. His gaze drops to the ring still on your finger. You hadn’t noticed it until he did, and as he watches, you rip it from your finger with a violent twist, and throw it at him. He actually looks upset at this, a hint of his earlier rage passing over his features like a cloud. 

  You hate the way it makes your gut wrench because you want him to fucking hurt. It’s like your body hasn’t realized yet just who he is—who they are, and it makes you even angrier. You turn away, loose nightgown bunching under your thighs as you turn to face the wall instead. 

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not until you eat something.” You aren’t sure if it’s Ransom that speaks, or Lloyd. You press your eyes shut and bite your lips to shutter the angry, frustrated wail that threatens to leap from your throat. “That’s not good for the baby.” 

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the fucking baby.

  You want to hate it now; the child growing inside of you, even if only to spite the men standing behind you. But you cannot bring yourself to—and you hate that too. 

  Shame is not a new feeling, not for you, but it feels new today as you pick apart the plain chicken salad sandwich they had brought for you. Assume it’s drugged. You hate yourself as you tear off chunks with stiff fingers, forcing your mouth open and swallowing it down with a grimace. Assume everything is drugged. When you’re finished, you drag the back of your hand across your mouth roughly, tossing the tray at Lloyd’s feet. 

  He doesn’t pick it up. 

  “Good girl.” You shiver. It’s involuntary, and you know he sees it, the way his mouth twitches with the urge to lift into the smug smile you know so well. “Your wish is our command, Princess.”

  Ransom bends to pick up the ring wordlessly, and follows his brother out of your room. 

  —

  They don’t come back that night.

  You watch the sky outside the glass wall of your prison turn dark, and then brighten again with stars as you sit huddled against it, hugging your knees to your chest. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your body won’t let you, jerking you back to wakefulness as soon as your eyelids start to droop. The thoughts won’t stop coming either, cycling through on a loop you can’t seem to stop. 

  I wonder what Nat’s doing. 

  I wonder if they’re worried about me.

  I wonder what Ransom told them.

  You want to pinpoint the time your life went off the rails but you can’t, you don’t know it. College, perhaps? 

  When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

  You drag yourself away from the window after a few hours of staring bleakly out at the empty beach. It feels like too much to hope for that someone would happen by, not with the lengths they had clearly taken to secure you. The comforter bleeds feathers as you drag it to the floor beside the bed, wedging yourself between it and the wall. You know you aren’t safe—you’ve little control over that—but the solid press of concrete behind you makes you feel more secure. 

  It’s what allows you to finally fall asleep, though it is not restful. It feels like you wake every few minutes at every imagined sound, jolting back to consciousness and scanning the still empty room before quickly passing out again. You half expect Lloyd and Ransom to be back, waiting for you to open your eyes but when you finally do, you are still blessedly alone, but for the fresh tray in front of the door. 

  You wait for a few minutes, just to see if they emerge from your peripheral vision, the places in the room you can’t see from your vantage point—but they don’t. Everything is as it was before, the destruction from your earlier rampage still strewn across the floor. It feels surreal. Slowly, you pick your way across the debris and grasp the tray in your trembling hands. You don’t want to eat it, not really, but your stomach clenches and rumbles at the sight of food as you peek beneath the tray cover. 

  It isn’t anything special—another sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. You check beneath the styrofoam plate just to be sure, there’s no note, no nothing, and you cannot help but wonder when they’ll be back. They’re messing with your head, you know they are—and you hate that it’s working. You’re rattled, upset, anxious—just how they want you. 

  The urge comes again to pick up the largest piece of anything you can find and smash it against the window until it breaks. 

  We made it for you.

  Your stomach churns with disgust even as you take a greedy bite out of your sandwich. How hadn’t you seen yourself and your family waltzing right into the palms of their hands? How hadn’t you noticed? Lloyd had always been overly interested, overly gracious, even after you’d rejected him, and started dating his brother. You’re reminded of Linda’s curt smile and her slickly delivered barb. You tore them apart without even thinking about it. And Lloyd’s admission…

  It was more than a little crush.

  You don’t know how to reconcile the madness simmering behind your husbands eyes with the man who’d held your hands and said his vows. As he’d griped your wrists, staring into your eyes with his own fever-bright, you could barely recognize him. 

  You clean your plate, washing it down with the water before casting another look around the room. It’s blank, empty beyond the few pieces of furniture you hadn’t been able to destroy. No books, no television—nothing. You search the walls near the door panel, looking for something, anything that might make it open, but you find little. The smooth white keyboard does not respond when you push your thumb against the rubbery buttons, and the seam is so narrow you can barely wedge your fingernails into it to try and pry it open. 

  For hours you walk the perimeter of the room, running your hands along the walls, feeling no breaks in the smooth, cool surface. You have to get out of here—but you don’t even know where here is. How far you are from the resort, if you’re even on the same island. As the room darkens, you realize you’ve been pacing for hours like a caged animal, and neither Ransom nor Lloyd has come to check on you all day. Somehow, the thought fill you with apprehension. Not knowing when they might appear is unnerving, and you suspect they mean it to be. 

  You thread your fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you watch the sun sink into the sea, a panicked, claustrophobic feeling rising in your chest until you realize you aren’t breathing. You can’t stay here like this, you can’t—

  Before you realize it you’re running for the door, beating your fists wildly against the panel. 

  “Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!” Your frenzied wailing rings in your own ears. It’s like you’re numb to the pain as you swing with all your might. You’re aware-even if only dimly—of the fact that your fists will be sore and aching later, bruised and beat to a pulp but you don’t care. Not if it gets you out—not if it gets you away from them. 

  “Ransom! Ransom let me out! You can’t fucking keep me here! You can’t!” 

  Nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, and there is no answer to your increasingly panicked demands. You scream for hours. Until you’re hoarse, and your trembling fists ache to raise above your shoulders. Still, you bang your open palms against the panel as your firm insistence becomes a stream of nonsense pleas. 

  “Please, please don’t do this, if you l-loved me y-you wouldn’t do this!” Tears and snot run down your face as you collapse to your knees, exhausted. “Please.” You mumble, curling in on yourself in front of the door. The tears come again, and you don’t even try to stop them, sobbing open-mouthed on the cold tile, your hands fisting in your nightgown. 

  “Please.” 

  You lay there until the room goes dark. 

  —

  “I hate seeing her like this.” The cameras are good—too good. He can see the pain on your face too clearly, hear the betrayal in your voice just a bit too well through the speakers. 

  “You think I like it?” Lloyd asks irritatedly, and Ransom sighs. “She’ll even out soon. If not, you can up the mood stabilizer. She’s cleared for it until the second trimester.” Ransom knows his brother, knows that’s his version of comforting reassurance. “Besides, you’re the one that decided to play keep-away.” 

  Ransom looks at the camera again, at your softly moving shoulders. He’s both thankful and irritated at the hair covering your pretty face—but at least it blocks the sight of your tears. As he watches, you shudder—like you’re still crying, even in your sleep. 

  “I know. We have to make her grateful. For us.” He says, still looking at the screen. And he does. He understands the necessity of it—it was his plan, almost more than Lloyd’s. “I still hate it.” 

  “I don’t anticipate she’ll keep it up more than a week. Two, tops.” For the most part, Ransom has seldom ever found himself envious of his twin, but now he felt his lip curl with irritated jealousy at Lloyd’s confidence. “Don’t worry little brother,” he grins. “Our Princess will love us again.” He turns back to the cameras. “I’m sure of it.” 

To be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[noahsresources]

MORE CRINGY DIRTY & FLIRTY PICK-UP LINES SENTENCE STARTERS !

this is extremely self-indulgent, don't mind me lmfao. feel free to use these for whatever you want and change any details that need to be.

❝ you're so hot, my zipper is falling for you. ❞ ❝ i love my bed, but i'd rather be in yours. ❞ ❝ nice outfit. it'd look even better if it were on my bedroom floor. ❞ ❝ roses are red, violets are fine. you be the six, and i'll be the nine. ❞ ❝ do you have any room for an extra tongue in your mouth? ❞ ❝ if you're feeling down, i can feel you up. ❞ ❝ my ideal body weight is yours on mine. ❞ ❝ your belt looks really tight. can i loosen it for you? ❞ ❝ there are 206 bones in your body. think you can handle another one? ❞ ❝ let's play carpenter so i can nail you. ❞ ❝ i'd tell you a joke about my dick, but ... it's too long. ❞ ❝ hey, i might be wasted, but the condom in my pocket doesn't have to be. ❞ ❝ i may not go down in history, but i'll go down on you. ❞ ❝ you must be a chicken farmer because you know exactly how to raise my cock. ❞ ❝ sorry, what's your name again? i want to get it right when i shout it later. ❞ ❝ you must be an elevator because i want to go up and down on you all day. ❞ ❝ i'd love to kiss those beautiful, luscious lips. and the ones on your face. ❞ ❝ if you were a toe, i'd bang you on every wall, table, and chair in this bar. ❞ ❝ sit on my lap, and let's talk about the first thing that pops up. ❞ ❝ do you work for UPS? 'cause you've got a fantastic package. ❞ ❝ want to play a game? i'll be the squirrel, you be the tree, and i'll bust a nut in your hole. ❞ ❝ your legs are like an oreo cookie. i wanna split them and eat all the good stuff in the middle. ❞ ❝ i bet i can touch your belly button ... from the inside. ❞ ❝ how do you feel about doing some math in the bedroom? all you need to do is add me, subtract your clothes, divide your legs, and we can multiply. ❞ ❝ remember my name, because you'll be screaming it later. ❞ ❝ my doctor told me i have a vitamin d deficiency. wanna go back to my place and save me? ❞ ❝ if i flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head? ❞ ❝ my dick's been feeling a little dead lately. wanna give it some mouth-to-mouth? ❞ ❝ i'm no weather man, but you can expect more than a few inches tonight. ❞ ❝ is your name medusa? because the moment you look at me, i get rock hard. ❞ ❝ can you tell me what time your legs open, please? ❞ ❝ are you a rubix cube? because the more i play with you the harder you get. ❞ ❝ you look too god for a pickup line, so let's cut to the chase — wanna fuck? ❞

[l33bang24]

Healing Hearts (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Single Dad! Chan x Fem reader

Summary: Y/N, desperate to leave her troubled past behind, decides to start fresh in a foreign country. Struggling to secure a job, she stumbles upon a babysitting opportunity offered by an elderly woman who lives nearby. Babysitting the daughter of a famous idol is the last thing she ever expected to be doing. What will she do when her past comes back to haunt her just as she begins to find peace?

⚠️CW⚠️: Angst, Depression, Anxiety, Drinking, Yelling, Crussing, Name calling, Physical Abuse, Talks of drug use, Miscarriage, Death of character (not leading), Crying (if I missed anything, lmk)

🏷: @manuosorioh @palindrome969 @real-life-dwaekii @nebugalaxy @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa @catlove83 @ivydoesit23 @resi4skz @vinumque @ntlmundy @rose-w-00-d @rundontwalkshesaid @jennibahng @lailac13 @gn4bnahc @addies29 @greyyeti (Taglist open)

(All dividers are made by @saradika, all credit goes to her)

Next>

Y/N’s POV

“We will be arriving at the Incheon International Airport in 15 minutes," the captain's voice crackled over the intercom. I felt my hands cramp from clutching the armrest for so long. Exhaustion was slowly creeping in, but I was determined to hold out until I reached the hotel. I've never been fond of flying, so I attempted to stay awake for as long as possible. However, my efforts were in vain; I drifted off and only woke up when the turbulence jolted me from my sleep. Since then, I've been wide awake, anxiously awaiting our landing.

Taking off and landing are always the most nerve-wracking parts of flying for me. However, when the pilot announced that we had arrived at our destination on this particular flight, I realized that I hadn't even felt the plane touchdown. Perhaps I was just too lost in my thoughts to notice. I patiently waited for other passengers to pull out their bags before reaching for mine. A courteous older gentleman insisted that I go ahead of him, and I expressed my gratitude. Once my luggage appeared on the carousel, I hailed an Uber to the hotel. After retrieving my belongings, I skillfully weaved through the crowds and exited the main doors.

I spotted a cluster of cameras and excited fans as I approached the exit, signifying celebrities' imminent arrival. Feeling relieved, I silently expressed gratitude for being able to leave before the chaos ensued. Loading my luggage into the waiting Uber, I settled into the back seat and informed the driver of my resort. Once inside, I unzipped my carry-on and reached for my phone. As my fingertips brushed against the screen, a distinct memory I'd been trying to suppress suddenly flooded my mind, and I quickly returned the phone to my bag, unsure if I was ready to confront it just yet.

Closing the bag, I take a deep breath and shut my eyes. I begin counting backward from 10 to 1, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "It's okay," I reassure myself, "I can make it through the day without dwelling on it." Eventually, I'll have to switch it back on or maybe consider getting a new phone altogether.

I arrived at my temporary sanctuary, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The check-in process was a bit of a blur as I was eager to settle in. After receiving the key to my room, I made my way through the corridors until I finally reached my destination. As I entered the room, I couldn't wait to collapse onto the comfortable bed and unwind after a long journey. As I lay down and rested my head on the soft pillow, I quickly succumbed to slumber, and soon, darkness enveloped me.

Bang Chan’s POV

I loved my lifestyle. The music, fan adoration, the energy of live performances, and the camaraderie with fellow musicians were incredibly enriching. The thrill and allure of those experiences paled compared to the sheer delight of raising a five-year-old daughter. As we strolled through the airport, a profound sense of joy surged through my entire being.

Once we hit the road, Felix turns to me and asks, “What do you think Miryung is doing about this time?” I can't help but grin. “Well, if she's listening to Mrs. Kim, she should be napping.” Lee Know glances at me with a small smile of his own.“You say that like you know she isn't going to do that.” I can't help but run my tongue over the inside of my cheek. “One of her uncles taught her how to use YouTube to watch videos of her father, particularly when he arrives or departs from an airport.” I focus my gaze on the culprit. "Hey! She pleaded with me to show her. I can't say no when she gives me those irresistible puppy eyes." Han reenacts what she did to him while Lee Know hurls his neck pillow at him and purposely hits him in the face.

When I arrived at the house, I bid farewell to the guys and pulled my luggage from the van. While carrying my bags to the front door, I noticed something new on the porch. To my surprise, an angel statue was placed there. I instantly recognized it as the statue that had been stored in the attic for quite a while.

“Oh, Channie, let's look at the garden gnomes! I bet they have some cute ones I can put in the yard.” Ryung pulls my hand toward the garden statues. “Ry, have I ever told you how strong you are since you got pregnant?” I hummed as I rubbed my hand over her still-growing bump. She smiles up at me with those honey-colored eyes. Oh, how I wished our baby had her eyes. I wished she had her everything.

As soon as I looked at her, it was crystal clear: Miyrung was the spitting image of her late mother. I shook my head, anticipating the problematic conversation I would need to have with her. I inserted the keys into the lock, turned the doorknob, and entered the house.

As I set my bags down, I heard feet running across the floor. “Daddy!” I opened my arms as Miryung jumped into them. I hold her tightly as a litter kisses all over her chubby face. “Daddy quit!” I shook my head as I pulled back. “No, ma'am, I will not quit. I'm your Dad; I can kiss you as often as possible.” She would generally try to fight back with me, though this time, she doesn't.

She places her head on my chest. “I missed you, Daddy.” There it is, the heartbreaking. I knew trying to raise a child alone in a world like mine wasn't all rainbows and unicorns. It was hard, but luckily, with the company's support, fans, guys, and family, I could take time away to raise Miryung properly. When she reached a certain age, I could return to my everyday hectic lifestyle.

“I missed you too, Pumpkin,” I say, kissing her on the top of her head. Knowing that she wasn't going to release her grip on me anytime soon, I guided us over to the couch and settled down.“Did you behave for Mrs. Kim while I was away?" When she looks up, her eyes widen. "Yes, Daddy, I was good.” I arch an eyebrow at her. "Come on, Miryung. You know I taught you always to tell the truth. Don't start lying to me now." Her gaze drops, filled with guilt, and her bottom lip trembles. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I know I'm not supposed to go into the attic, but one night, I saw you putting some of Mommy's things away. I didn't want to forget about her, so I pulled out her Angel statue.”

Miryung gazed back at me, her eyes filled with tears, and at that moment, it was as if a sharp blade had pierced through my heart. “Pumpkin, it's not just that you pulled your Mom’s angel statue down; you were up there alone. What would have happened if you had fallen off one of those beams or the latter came back up and closed on you? Miryung, you would have been trapped up there, and Mrs. Kim would have been looking for you everywhere.” I pushed her brown locks behind her ear.

“I just want you to be safe. Okay?” I gently pull her back into my embrace as she bobs her head, feeling her warmth against my chest. I fight back the tears as I look up towards the ceiling. ‘I would never want to get rid of you, Ry. Ever.’ I soon hear a stomach growl, and I can’t fight back the smile that graces my face. “Do you want to order takeout?”

Y/N’s POV

I was drying a whiskey glass when I heard the door slam shut with a resounding bang. Startled, the glass slipped from my hands and crashed onto the hard floor, shattering into pieces. Frantically attempting to clean up before he noticed, I accidentally cut myself on the shards, but I hardly noticed the pain. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?!" His voice boomed from the other room as he stormed into the kitchen. I hastily discarded the broken glass as he approached. I instinctively clasped my hands over my stomach, trying to shield it from view. I could tell he noticed this as his expression darkened, and he felt even more anger.

“Did you take care of that matter as I requested?” He inquired, his intense brown eyes burning with fury. “ANSWER ME! DID YOU?!” He bellowed, causing me to flinch. "No," I responded timidly. "What?" he demanded. "No," I repeated, trying to speak with more conviction. The sudden sting of a slap across my face barely fazes me as I grit my teeth. However, the vice-like grip around my windpipe sends a jolt of fear through me.“You fucking worthless bitch! I told you when I came home, you better have taken those drugs and obliterated that fatuous newborn!!” I could barely get half a breath while clawing at his hands to get free. That only made it worse as he tightened his grip. “Ad-der p-pl-please.” I was breathless, tears streaming down my cheeks, and I watched as dark spots appeared in my peripheral vision.

“I TOLD YOU THAT HEATHEN ISN’T MINE!! I KNOW IT IS SOMEONE ELSE’S!” Adder flung me into the nearest wall. "Ad-Adder, I haven't left the house. It can-" The next blow landed on my face. “DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME! I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN HANGING AROUND DANIEL! I'VE SEEN THE WAY YOU LOOK HIM! IS IT HIS, HUH?! IS IT!!!” No words escaped my lips before a powerful kick landed on my swollen belly. “No, no, no, NO!”

I suddenly woke up from a vivid dream, or what felt more like a memory. My body was drenched in sweat, and I was trembling uncontrollably. I hugged myself tightly and burst into tears. Grabbing a nearby pillow, I unleashed all my pent-up agony and frustration with a gut-wrenching scream. “I’m so s-sorry, my b-baby.” I choked up, clinching on the pillow for dear life. “I-I’m sorry I-I did-didn’t protect y-you.”

(I'm honestly really excited for this series! I think this will be a good one. 🤞🏻🤞🏻 If you would like to be added to the taglist, just lmk in the comments 😊)

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[thefairylights]

And I cannot say even now that I regret Claudia, that I wish I had never seen her, nor held her, nor whispered secrets to her, nor heard her laughter echoing through the shadowy gaslighted rooms of that all too human town house in which we moved amid the lacquered furniture and the darkening oil paintings and the brass flowerpots as living beings should. Claudia was my dark child, my love, evil of my evil. Claudia broke my heart.

And on a warm sultry night in the spring of the year 1860, she rose up to settle the score. She enticed me, she trapped me, and she plunged a knife over and over again into my drugged and poisoned body, until almost every drop of the vampiric blood gushed out of me before my wounds had the precious few seconds in which to heal.

I don't blame her. It was the sort of thing I might have done myself.

And those delirious moments will never be forgotten by me, never consigned to some unexplored compartment of the mind. It was her cunning and her will that laid me low as surely as the blade that slashed my throat and divided my heart. I will think on those moments every night for as long as I go on, and of the chasm that opened under me, the plunge into mortal death that was nearly mine. Claudia gave me that.

[sarawritestories]

Kneel Before Your High Lord

Eris X Fem reader

A dedication to @ninthcircleofprythian for encouraging the feralness.

Summary: A stressful encounter with the High Lord of the Night Court has you coming home to your High Lord, your mate, who is all Too willing to help you unwind for a while

Content Warning: Night Court being shady, dom sub dynamics, male oral receiving implied, fade to black, unedited

Divider made by @tsunami-of-tears

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I left the dark hallowed palace the High Lord of the Night Court called home. My mate entrusted me to go to this meeting on his behalf. To ensure our alliance was secured now that Beron was gone.

I had failed.

His band of miscreants humiliated me, the shadowsinger looking at me as if I were a play thing he could bend to his will. Something in his gaze unnerved me rightfully, so the reputation of the spymaster was as long and as gruesome as his wings.

Being completely disregarded and made to feel like I was not worthy of Rhysand's presence I was dismissed with barely a hand gesture and a smug, "If the High Lord of Autumn wishes for a meeting, tell him he will have to show his face in order to do so."

Embarassing.

Eris had said they were all dreamers, and all had the same goal of maintaining peace, having the freedom to simply exist. The nagging side of my brain couldn't help but wonder if they only showed that side to him. That only to those who deem respectable and powerful were worthy of looking within the mask.

You would think that being the High Lord's mate would have given me that level of respect.

Before a tear could slide down my cheek, I windowed to the one place I felt safe.

Home.

My mind had been reeling deeply that, that I was unaware of Sadie; my hound Eris had gifted me as a mating gift guiding me to his study. It was only when her tongue met the palm of my hand that I was pulled from my stupor petting her soft gray fur I lightly knocked on the door.

"Enter." Eris' voice filled with the command of a high lord caused my toes to curl as I opened the door. His copper eyes met mine and instantly softened, "Home so soon, My Love?" He tilted his head his red curls illuminating against the setting sun. His eyes assessed my face and immediately rose from his chair to approach me. "What happened?" His calloused hands cupped my cheeks, his thumbs stroking idly along my face.

The dam broke, and my body tore out in a string sobs.

Eris tucked my face in his chest as he stroked my back as I told him of my encounter in the Court of Nightmares.

"Eris, please don't make me go back there." Eris ran his fingers through my hair, his soft lips pressing against my temple. His touch was always so soothing for me.

"The next time I go over there, Rhysand will wish he never treated you with such disrespect, Pet." I stiffened slightly at the sound of his name for me. He pushed me away gently, in order to see my face, even through the tears I could make out the cute freckles across his nose that made him look youthful, a youth that was stolen from him.

He gripped my chin with his thumb with just enough force to tell me what wad going on, "Would you like to forget for a little while?" My heart began to flutter as I attempted to nod my head only for him to firmly keep my head in place. "You know better. Use your words."

Heat began to pool between my legs at the commanding tone in his voice, "Please, my Lord. Play with me."

Eris pressed his lips to mine, giving my bottom lip a small bite before releasing me. "Put on your uniform, and return here when you're done." He pulled the pin from my hair, allowing my curls to cascade down falling to my shoulders. "Hair stays down."

"Yes, My Lord."

Eris gave me a mischievous grin, "Good Girl."

I walked back into his study in my silk robe, knowing well that I didn't want the staff to see the Green Corset and matching lace panties that left little to the imagination. "Robe off." His command jolted me as he hadn't even looked up from his paperwork.

I quickly remove the garment to reveal the bodice of the corset with intricate gold lace design that compliments the green lace around my thigh with Eris' name in gold lettering. Eris' eyes finally meet mine, and the russet hues of his iris glow like the fire in his veins. He tucks his bottom lip behind his teeth as though assessing my appearance and his gaze causes my cheeks to warm. "What to do with you, Pet."

I bow, "Use me how you wish, My Lord."

Eris motions his finger, indicating for me to move closer to him. I do as instructed, and when I approach, there is a stagnant pause. He resumes his work, "I expect my pet to kneel before her High Lord."

"Apologies, My Lord." I whisper, my stomach flipping at the command in his tone, my need to serve him and not think for a while. My knees hit the plush carpet, and my head lowered. His fingers is immediately running through my hair.

"My Sweet Girl. My sweet, loving girl. Look at me." I meet his gaze, and there is a warm smile on his face. "You are amazing, I need you to know that. You didn't fail me. You made me proud. Do you hear me?" I nod my head, and his eyes darken, "Words, Love."

"Yes, my Lord." He leans down to kiss me. I go to grip his face when he catches my wrist.

"Good, now be my good girl and make your High Lord feel good while I work. Then, when I'm done, I will worship you like the goddess you are."

I smiled and tucked myself under his desk and showed my high Lord just how much I loved him.

[holdmytesseract]

Birthday Magic

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everybody around you tends to forget your birthday, because of all the Christmas trouble. Except Loki, of course...

Warnings: none, except a tiny bit of suggestive smut (Blink and you'll miss it.), fluuuuff

Word Count: 1,9k

a/n: This fluffy lil' oneshot is a part of @fictive-sl0th 's Secret Santa Event! 🎅🏻🎁 I had the honour to write mine for @give-me-a-moose ! 🤗 I really hope you like this! 🥰 And happy belated birthday! 💚

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficionaldomina @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @cultofcarter @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @glitchquake @holymultiplefandomsbatman @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @quirkiest-turtle

Tags: @huntress-artemiss @chennqingg @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @goblingirlsarah @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds

divider by the lovely @jiyaxedits <3

Yawning, you stretched and opened your eyes; blinking, before you reached over to turn off your alarm clock. The winter sun shone through the big French doors of your bedroom. You immediately saw that it had snowed over night; a white blanket covering New York City. It was beautiful - and yet was a certain sadness overshadowing the wonders of winter...

You sighed and rolled out of bed; finding a little note on your bedside table - like every day. Even when Loki was on a mission, the note appeared on your night-stand magically.

'Good morning, angel. Have a great day. I love you. x'

Your boyfriend's words made you smile at least a little bit, until realisation hit you. He didn't remember. Of course he didn't remember. Nobody ever does.

You hung your head; trying to suppress the upcoming tears. Today was your birthday, but since it was December and Christmas in not even two weeks, hardly anyone remembered your birthday. Everyone was just too caught up in the preparations for the holidays. And as sad as it sounded... You got used to it. Perhaps that was the reason why you stopped telling people about your birthday.

With another sigh, you made your way into the kitchen to eat a little something for breakfast. Then you got ready, put on your winter coat, boots and beanie and went to work.

Luckily, it was at least a normal day at the office. The regular every-day madness. You quickly got all the things done on your to-do list and were even able to call it a day one hour earlier than usual. After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you took the subway and headed back home. On your way, you got a chocolate cupcake - a little something for yourself to celebrate your birthday. You could already picture it... You, the cupcake, decorated with a single candle and a big glass of alcohol. Perfect.

Sighing, you turned the key in the lock of your apartment on the 5th floor. You absolutely had zero expectations of today and expected not the slightest thing to happen. Therefore, you were more than just surprised, when you walked inside a literal pool out of balloons, birthday decorations and... confetti? You frowned; thinking out loud. "What...?"

You weren't able to finish your thoughts, when suddenly Loki jumped around the corner. "Surprise, my love!" He wore the biggest smile on his face - and a party hat on his head. "And the happiest of birthdays to my ray of sunshine!"

You blinked; felt like a deer caught in the headlights. It was beyond your wildest dream. Never ever surprised you somebody on your birthday like Loki just did. Sure, your parents did, back when you were a child, but... Late teens and early adult years? Nope.

"L-Loki? I-I... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be o-on a mission?" You stammered out; trying to grasp this. Your boyfriend was still smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Of course not, darling. It was just a little white lie, so that I was able to set this up while you're at work." Then his smile faltered a little. "Do you not... like it?"

You could've cried then and there out of happiness.

"What? No! No! I do like it! Gods, I love it! It's been years since the last time somebody surprised me on my birthday like this!" You couldn't help yourself but to jump into his arms; wrapping your legs around his waist. "Thank you. Thank you so much, baby." Loki chuckled; his big hand stroking your back in a reassuring, loving manner. "I-I thought you forgot my birthday... Just like everyone else and-" "Darling..." Loki interrupted you immediately. "I could never forget the birthday of the person I love the most in all the nine realms - and especially not the first birthday we are about to share together."

A few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of happiness. "You're the best." A low chuckle rumbled through your boyfriend's chest again, before he gave you a wink, "I know." and a smile. "And this..." He gestured around the hallway. "This is only the beginning."

Loki didn't exaggerate when he said that this was only the beginning. Oh no... After he had carried you through the sea of balloons into the kitchen, he showed you the cake he had baked for you. You were absolutely thrilled of course, and it tasted delicious. You blew out the candles and ate a big slice, just like Loki.

After that, he told you to wrap yourself up in warm clothes, because you were going outside. And again, you weren't in the slightest prepared. You wouldn't have thought that Loki rented the ice rink only for the two of you... For as long as you wanted.

"Loki, are you... Are you insane?" You laughed; not believing what was happening right now. The god just laughed and tied the laces of his ice skates, "Insanely in love, perhaps." before he glided gracefully on the ice rink. "Are you joining me now, my love?" He asked with a mischievous smirk, while he skated like the ice prince he was past you. You smiled brightly and quickly exchanged your boots with ice skates.

After you and Loki have been enjoying yourselves on the ice rink; making races and even tried to 'dance' to the music playing in the background together, you went back to your apartment. Cold and with frozen toes, but happy.

"I think I need a hot shower now," you said; feeling the goosebumps on your skin. "You do just that, darling." "Won't you join me?" You asked suggestively; wagging your eyebrows. Loki chuckled. "I'd love to, but I have a few more things to organise. I'll see you later. Take all the time you need." He pressed a sweet kiss on your lips and left you alone to shower. You were slightly sad that Loki wasn't going to join you, but you were also super excited. This birthday was already the best you ever had. What would be able to top that?

Wallowing in the memories of the wonderful hours you already spent with Loki today, you showered and stepped thirty minutes later out of the bathroom. To your surprise was your apartment immersed in darkness - and your boyfriend vanished.

"Loki?" You hesitatingly called down the hall, but received no answer. "Where is he?" you mumbled to yourself; making your way to the bedroom. Arrived there, you switched on the lights and immediately saw a large, thin box laying on the soft mattress. Frowning, you approached the bed. A note was laying on top of it, on which you could clearly make out Loki's handwriting.

'I hope this dress is worthy of the goddess who is going to wear it. You will be awaited downstairs at eight o'clock.'

Your heart almost stopped at his words. A big smile formed on your face. Biting your lip, you carefully opened the box - only to find a beautiful emerald green dress inside it. It was so stunningly beautiful, it took your breath away. With wide eyes, you lifted it out of the box; gasping. "Oh he can't be serious... He can't..." You let your eyes roam the fabric. "Wow..." You breathed in awe, then squealed; excitedly getting ready and dressed. The dress fitted you perfectly; molded against your dips and curves.

Five minutes before the clock stroke eight o'clock, you made your way downstairs. Excitement and nervousness coursed through your body. You couldn't wait to see what Loki had planned.

When you stepped out of the main door to the rather small building you lived in, you felt your breath catch in your throat - again.

Loki was standing on the sidewalk, in front of a black limousine; dressed in a green velvet suit with a black dress shirt and bow tie. A bouquet of black roses was in his right hand; his other stuffed in his trousers pocket and a bright smile on his face.

He looked devastatingly handsome.

You felt like fainting and crying out of happiness at the same time.

"There you are, my love." He said in a happy voice; "You look ravishing." giving you that smouldering look. You blushed. "T-Thank you. You look handsome, t-too." The god softly shook his head; causing his long raven curls to sway. "Not remotely as beautiful as you look."

He then stepped closer; gave you a soft kiss and handed you the bouquet of roses. "T-Thank you. For everything. For the cake, the ice skating, the dress, the roses..." Loki only chuckled; placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the limousine. "Like I said, darling... It's only the beginning. We are not finished yet." Mischief twinkled in his beautiful blue orbs, as he opened the car door for you.

"After you, my goddess."

You blushed even more and sat in the car.

A fifteen minute car ride later, you stopped in front of one of the finest, noblest restaurants in whole New York City. Once more, your jaw dropped. "No, Loki... You... You are kidding me, right?" Your boyfriend chuckled; shaking his head "I'm not." "B-But Loki, this... This is way too expensive! I-I don't deserve this, I-" He interrupted you by taking your hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "You, my love, deserve the world. Especially on the day you were born."

He led you inside the fancy restaurant then, to a table he had reserved for the both of you.

The time you spent there with Loki was splendid - just like the food. It had been quite a while since you ate so good. Especially at a restaurant. The ambience was lovely and the waiters absolutely kind and friendly. You enjoyed the talks with Loki, the glasses of wine and also the soft jazz music in the background.

After the dinner, the limousine took you and Loki back home.

"Thank you for this wonderful day, baby. I didn't have such a wonderful birthday in years. Thank you for thinking of me and giving me all this. And especially... Thank you for your love." Loki smiled and embraced you; gently, lovingly swaying you from side to side. It almost felt like you were dancing.

"You don't have to thank me for that, my love. It goes without saying. I love you - and my purpose is to make and see you happy. Oh, which reminds me of something... Your actual birthday present..." Your eyes widened once again. "No, Loki, stop you've given me enough..." Loki shook his head; still smiling. "It's not a physical present."

Now you were confused. Something the god noticed immediately.

Loki took both your hands in his. "Your birthday present is a trip to Asgard."

You stared at Loki; speechless. "W-What?" He just smiled. "I know that you always wanted to go there; see my home and... I... I think I'm ready to go back with you and show you everything you wish to see." "R-Really?" He nodded. "Really."

Tears formed in your eyes. The realisation hitting you that Loki was willing and ready to open up the doors to his past for you was touching you deeply. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me this much, I- Wow, I... I love you."

Loki smiled. A gentle hand caressed your cheek and wiping your tears of happiness away. "I love you too."

You couldn't help but to stand on your tiptoes and kiss the god.

"This is the best birthday ever!"