#so writing might have to be on hold until it gets sorted out
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weepingchronicles · 2 days ago
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The yandere caitlyn hcs where SO GOOD OMGG, can you please maybe write some about what day to day life would be like “living” with caitlyn. (now I’m picturing the reader doing a “grwm as a kidnapping victim” video) TYY
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part one
a/n: i giggled at the grwm joke,, i'd definitely watch that on youtube or tiktok. LMAO.
cw: captivity, yandere behavior, controlling and overbearing behavior, drugging, physical violence, infantilization, amputation
❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞
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💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think the day to day routine would change slowly overtime! Depending on how long you've been in Caitlyn's "care."
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I imagine for awhile from the moment you awoke to months after, Caitlyn would be pretty strict and diligent with routine. Wakes you up at 6 am, get ready for the day, breakfast at 7 sharp, activities for the day, lunch at 2 pm, dinner at 6 pm and bedtime at 10 pm. Obviously there will be small tweaks depending on what you both do but everything has to go through Caitlyn first. The reason for her absolute strictness on this is fear of what might happen if she does not abide by it. You could easily slip from her fingertips, she also wants to be the best caretaker for you and this is her way of proving it to you.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Fortunately, if you continue keep being good and stay out of troubles way she will eventually settle down! Things will be a lot more relaxed, she is still strict on making sure your health is well maintained though. But she'll let you stay up if you want, to a reasonable time of course. Or you can sleep in! As long as she gets cuddles in return. Ugh.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Honestly you'd probably get bored often, especially with Caitlyn's job. So she tends to spend as much time with you as possible.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She likes to teach you things! From piano lessons, painting and simply reading together. You might not be that willing at first but your boredom gets to you so often that you eventually accept those activities with her. Caitlyn thinks of it as bonding.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She also loves to pamper you, dressing you up in fancy clothing and dresses or having you try delicious pastries. If you have a sweet tooth then you're in heaven! On calm days, you both will drink tea while reading.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Her punishments vary, often if you are simply acting out as she likes to call it, she'll simply restrain you or drug you with a light sedative.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 For more severe offenses, like trying to escape or hurt Caitlyn, etc. She will not be happy. She'll restrain you, guide you away from whatever it is you're doing or stop you from trying to hurt her, etc and then she'll lecture you. Like some child. An unequal. You have to maintain eye contact with her too because if you don't she will grab your chin roughly or snatch your hair.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I can't really see Caitlyn letting you get away with things too easily, this girl holds a grudge so when you mess up it will take even longer to regain her trust back. No matter if you prove yourself or your behavior is as pristine as can be, she will question and look at you suspiciously. She will only relax when she is 100% sure nothing of the sort will happen again.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She will put you in a guest room and lock you inside, tying you up inside for a couple days until her initial anger wears off. During that time she'll bring you food or anything essential of course, she will also recite the rules of the house over and over, making sure you understand them and the consequences.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 If you're a particularly resistant darling then I am afraid things will not go well for you.. you can only disobey Caitlyn a handful of times before she has to do something about it. Permanently.
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She will straight up either break your legs so you cannot walk ever again or amputate them. You will need her constantly and she loves it. At this point she has no sympathy for you, at least not in the real way. She pities you but in her mind you made her do this. Why couldn't you just obey her and live her domestic fantasy?
💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "This is your fault, darling."
art credit: @/kulnifer on twt
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all-pacas · 13 hours ago
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i have been poking at this for ages and i hate it but i am BOUND AND DETERMINED to write fluff someday so here we go:
(you might recognize the first bit, i'm pretty sure i posted it before, i've been trying to make this story work for a LONG FUCKING TIME)
-
Chase buys the ring a few days before Valentine’s.
It’s the sort of expensive, impulsive purchase Cameron likes to tease him about: trust fund brat, she called him whenever he’d come home with a new TV or one of those new iPhones, and he likes to play into it, careless with money he really can’t afford to waste, all to make her laugh and tease him in the way she does: What would you do without me? she’d asked once, spotting him twenty bucks in the cafeteria.
Nothing, he thinks. And: nothing.
He’d gone to the jeweler’s looking for a Valentine’s Day present, so he buys a pair of earrings, too. Pearl, because Cameron has been hinting, and Chase finds it easier to do what she wants.
-
Valentine’s, Cameron gets stuck with a double shift. Chase has two appendixes and assists on a laminectomy and should spend the rest of his shift on transcriptions. Except House is sniffing around the OR via Kutner and Taub, and somehow it is crucially important House doesn’t so much as lay eyes on him: Chase knows, knows he’ll take one look and know about the ring, about all of it.
He does a couple extra hours in the clinic to avoid this. Has dinner with Cameron in the cafeteria at the end of his shift: she’s tired and quiet and only has fifteen minutes to wolf down her sandwich before she’s due back in the ER. He’s wondering if he should remind her of the day — Cameron can get weird about this sort of thing — but she has to go before he can really make up his mind. Gives him a tired smile and a quick kiss. “Don’t wait up for me,” she warns.
“Because you’ll wake me up when you get home?” he jokes, hopeful.
She laughs. “You wish.”
-
He’s asleep when she gets home, late that night. Stirs when he hears the shower, but wakes abruptly when she jumps him, almost literally: straddles him heavily and nips his jaw and kisses him until he rouses: she is slippery and damp from the shower, her hair wet and heavy and cold when it falls on his cheek, his shoulder.
They make love and he thinks about the ring after. He’s sleepy but Cameron is restless after a long shift, tired and simultaneously too wound up to sleep: he tries to stay awake to keep her company. She talks about her day, about running into Foreman in the locker room at one in the morning. House’s case and his team’s all nighter and Chase doesn’t like that much: not the lull and hum of her voice recounting symptoms and gossip but the way he can hear her smiling.
“Hey,” he interrupts, not opening his eyes — “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She breaks off; considers. “It’s two in the morning,” she teases.
They had an argument last year about it. She’d first asked him out the day after Valentine’s, he maintains: Cameron insists their anniversary isn’t actually until April. One of those little things. It bothers him, but he tries not to let it. Doesn’t matter, he’d told her: of course it does, she’d said. Otherwise our anniversary would be - what. That first time?
Why not? he’d asked, half joking, enjoying the indignant flush on her face. He’d like that, sometimes. To go back through the calendar, to push back the start of their relationship and make it so: not two years but three, five, six. He hums, shifts in the bedding. “I love you,” he says, and holds his breath until she murmurs it sleepily back.
-
In the morning he remembers to give her the earrings, and Cameron is appreciative, admires them nicely. She has the day off and Chase very reluctantly gets dressed for work. Cameron has been known to raid his shirts and sweaters for herself so he’d hidden the ring in the drawer with his socks and underwear, where he doubts she’d go looking: he bumps up against it while looking for socks.
“What time are you off work?” Cameron asks when he emerges, stretched out on the sofa with a coffee and wearing one of his sweatshirts and her new earrings.
“Not too late if we don’t get drowned in add-ons,” he says absently, looking for his bag and finding it behind the sofa. And then, experimentally: “Happy anniversary.”
“Don’t start,” Cameron sighs, and he tries to parse if she is more annoyed or amused or just hasn’t had her coffee yet.
Smiling over at her takes no effort, is not a lie. “Start what?” he asks, leaning over to give her a kiss.
She hums and doesn’t otherwise answer the question, brushing her palm over his cheek, stopping to fold down his collar. “Let me know if you have to work late.”
“I will.” Straightening, he admires her a moment: Cameron’s hair is unbrushed, she is wearing pajama pants and his sweatshirt, in his apartment with no intention of leaving. “I like you,” he says, and not marry me.
She smiles. “I like you too.”
-
He leaves the ring in his sock drawer. According to Cameron, their anniversary is in April. He can wait, he thinks.
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nkn0va · 17 hours ago
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THE LAST MINUTE RUSHED AS HELL CHRISTMAS EVENT
I'm writing this shit on Christmas Eve night, speedrun mode activate
Thanks to everyone who submitted and supported this rushed thing here. Hopefully next year if we last that long I'll be able to give you all something better. And hopefully none of this comes off as too half-baked.
Fun fact: Blazblue was not a two way, not a three way, but a FOUR WAY TIE, EVERYONE WANTED A DIFFERENT CHARCTER
To settle this dispute, I did it in the only appropriate way I knew how:
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We will be revealing the winners for each fandom as voted for by the submissions and the prompts that have been chosen as we go along here.
Without further ado, enjoy the first ever seasonal event on the NKN0va blog. Hope you all have a jolly Christmas day.
(Spoilers mentioned for Persona 5 Tactica in that section, proceed with caution)
Helltaker: Judgment's S/O getting her to ice skate with them on Christmas
-You bring this idea up to Judgment on Christmas Day after breakfast, much to the fallen angel's confusion.
-She has heard of skating before, and knew that there was a kind of skating specifically for doing it on ice, but that sounded extremely dumb and quite dangerous, especially to regular ol' fragile mortals like yourself.
-It takes a while, but she eventually gives in, she doesn't have the heart to shut you down entirely. Of course it's under the guise of protecting you and making sure you don't get hurt.
-It's best that you don't go to a public skating rink with her lest you get unwelcome stares from everyone and scare the children, so you manage to find a frozen lake somewhere with ice thick enough. Despite being alone, Judgment is still very much tense.
-Judgment for her part when she does get on the ice falls over a few times. Balance isn't her thing, but she does get it eventually, watching anxiously as she keeps an eye on you as you start getting on the ice.
-If you cannot skate she'll have a few words for you, but since you're already here you might as well do it together. She'll put your arm around you shoulders as she tries to keep you both upright until she is certain you can go on your own. Depending on your own balance this will have varying results.
-Consider her pleasantly surprised if you know how to skate without falling over, she thought you'd be struggling a lot more. Expect her to make some kind of competition out of the ordeal and taking it way too seriously. By the end you're aching all over and she has to carry you home. 10/10 would do again.
~~~
Under Night In Birth: Surprising Wagner with a Christmas Gift
(Thank you Vivian for breaking the tie this was way easier than if I got the alternative on a coin flip and had to do the other option instead)
-Wagner is no stranger to gifts. Especially super extravagant ones around the holidays thanks to her family background. This put you in quite the conundrum.
-As long as you've known the Crimson Knight, she's always been very hard to please. That fact that you're a normal person with a normal income also does not help matters. Trying to go extravagant enough to impress her would only break your bank in the process so you had to had to get more creative.
-You'd have to appeal more to her sentiment, and eventually an idea came. The only thing you knew of that appealed to her sentimentally enough was, well, you.
-Your gift searching soon turned into a craft session, taking photos from your phone of you two, printing them out, and putting them in a memories book of sorts and decorating it to what you felt was her liking.
-When the big moment came and it was finally in Wagner's hands, she sits there holding it like she doesn't know what the hell it is. It's only when it's opened that it clicks.
-She'll smirk and call it quaint in a half condescending, half endearing way. Some people might be offended by it, but you know better. This is her way of hiding her true emotions. Deep down this will be treasured for the rest of her life, anyone that dares touch it other than you will be turned to roast beef.
~~~
Persona 5: Erina ending up under the mistletoe with her S/O
(AU where Erina doesn't disappear after the events of the story)
-It had been quite a while since any holiday was able to be celebrated, thanks to Marie. There was a special feeling about Christmas this year around, being able to finally celebrate it peacefully.
-Erina for one seemed to be the most excited. Due to her...origins she'd never celebrated it properly before, and was learning the ins and outs of the festivities and traditions for the first time, her eyes lighting up at every new thing she saw.
-The two of you were walking around the town plaza taking in all the sights, watching as the citizens put up decorations. Out of nowhere, right in front of a bakery in the plaza, she stopped you and pointed up towards a strange looking plant hung on up one of the support pillars.
-While you were already dating Erina, it hasn't been all that long into the relationship, thus you were still taking to intimacy. With a slight bit of nervousness, you filled her in on what this mistletoe thing was.
-Erina takes in what you say with a thoughtful look. Then, as straightforward as ever, pulls you by your collar and gives you a longer than normal peck on the lips, pulling away with a slight redness on her face but a satisfied smile. She mentions how this might end up becoming a favorite holiday tradition of hers before dragging you through the city once more as if nothing happened.
-In all fairness, you probably should've seen that one coming.
~~~
AND TO BREAK THE STAGGERING (but probably not unexpected in retrospect) FOUR WAY TIE, THE WHEEL HAS DECIDED ON...
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I see the audience has a particular type...
Blazblue: Nine's Christmas Day Celebration with S/O (post Dark War)
-While Nine is typically a very busy woman, she is extremely family oriented above all else. She will take holiday time off, regardless of what anyone says. Not like they can stop her anyway.
-Definitely the type to go all out to spoil the people important to her. Over the top decorations, forcing the weather control system to make a light but not overbearing snowfall, and as many presents as she can humanly think of.
-This is probably the happiest you've ever seen her. With all the tragedy in her and everyone else's lives over the past decade there's so rarely been a time to truly let her guard down and celebrate a holiday like a normal, happy, healthy person.
-She wants to do every traditional (and perhaps cliche) tradition she can think of. Between having largely no parents growing up and spending most of her life during war time she's never had the chance to do any of it. Decorating a tree, giving out deliberately wrapped presents to you and everyone else important to her, going out to see the magical and technological lights hung up around Ishana, having a fireplace lit up and watching old movies.
-This is her way of healing from the long lasting trauma inflicted on her by circumstances outside her control. If the holiday season is about the people important to you, then she wants to take that time to cherish those people while she still has the chance, even if she can have a hard time expressing that.
-Also you're probably gonna have to stop her from bullying Terumi even now. If left to her own devices she is dressing him up in the most stupid holiday themed shit imaginable for her own amusement. I'm talking reindeer antler headbands and a Rudolph nose.
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t-errifier · 1 month ago
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it would seem that the internet lines got damaged because of the massive storm that we had here; so i deeply apologize for being spotty when i said that i had a day off & i was going to do a bunch of replies. i'm hoping that it comes back by tomorrow & i can be more reliable about things ;; we still have three more days to relax, so i will definitely be getting to what i owe to everyone !!
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celestiamour · 5 months ago
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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜
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ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel
╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words
setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited
➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write
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logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”
“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).
“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.
you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.
he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.
“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.
“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”
the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”
you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.
“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”
“it’s a gift! you keep those!”
“oh… right…”
he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 
“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 
the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”
“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”
“first what??”
“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”
“i have to name it?”
“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.
“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”
“that’s such a shitty name—”
“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”
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posh--bee · 5 months ago
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hotel room revelations || Spencer Reid
pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader
summary → While on a case, you have to not only share a hotel room but also a bed with the BAU's resident genius Spencer Reid whom you have had a crush on since he first joined the FBI. When you wake up during the night with his arms wrapped around you, previously hidden feelings come to light and you realize that your unrequited feelings for him might not be so unrequited after all.
warnings → sharing a bed, love confessions, early seasons!Spencer, insecure!Spencer, misunderstandings, friends to lovers, reader is part of the BAU, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used
author’s note → I love the "there was only one bed" trope so of course I had to write it with my beloved genius. I'm so happy to finally finish another fic again so let me know what you think about it! <3 (forgot to post this fic and now my cm obsession fizzled out, oops. But I know it will come back to haunt me sooner or later)
word count → 5.2k
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When you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not too happy about it and not sure who or what to blame for it.
You grumble your dissatisfaction without opening your eyes and the warm body behind you freezes.
Now you’re a little confused and you try to fight off the urge to just drift off again so you can actually form a coherent thought because you don’t remember going to sleep with someone else by your side last night. But thinking is still a little difficult when you’re half-asleep and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to even remember if you’re in your own bedroom right now or in another state in some sort of hotel room because of work, so your memory is not the most reliable source of help at the moment.
The someone behind you still holding you in their arms seems to get a little impatient and tries to slowly move away from you again but you don’t let them, instinctively grabbing their hand that is resting softly against your stomach and interlacing your fingers with theirs to keep it there. You hear a startled little sound close to your ear and feel the someone behind you going rigid, even holding their breath in surprise. Feeling bad about spooking your bedmate so suddenly, you apologize by soothingly stroking up and down their arm that is draped over your waist before going back to holding their hand. You don’t want them to let go of you even though you’re still not quite sure who exactly they actually are—but you’re still working on that.
What you do know, however, is that they’re warm and holding you in a gentle embrace and that you feel very safe and secure in their arms. And that you don’t want it to end.
You smile to yourself in satisfaction when you feel the someone gradually relaxing against you once more and you can finally pick up that derailed train of thought of yours to figure out where you are and why you’re not alone in bed.
But that’s when the someone behind you decides to speak up and solve the mystery at last.
“I… I’m really sorry, but I have to move. My arm’s completely fallen asleep…”
Oh. That’s right.
His voice is quiet, timid even and still laced with sleep, and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more awake than just moments before, your heart immediately picking up speed as you remember how you and Spencer ended up in the same bed together.
You’re currently in a little hotel room in a city halfway across the country because of a case JJ had presented you the day before. Five bodies with a sixth person still missing and the local police had decided to ask for the BAU’s help to stop whoever is responsible for these crimes. Spencer and you started to work on the geographical profile while the rest of the team drove to the scenes of crime and talked to the victims’ families. After working until the middle of the night but without making any considerable progress anymore, Hotch decided it was time to go to the hotel, rest, and return to the case after a good night’s sleep.
The hotel was pretty booked already when you boarded the jet so when you arrived at last in the lobby, exhaustion already weighing heavy on your shoulders and your eyelids dangerously heavy, the team was told they had to share rooms and even ended up with a room with a double bed instead of two single ones.
When JJ first announced this little circumstance at first, you really couldn’t care less. Somehow, your tired brain didn’t really consider that you would be one of the people staying in the room with a double bed and much less who would be the other person with you. But when Morgan sauntered over to you, letting the key ring spin around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eyes, you knew nothing good would come of it.
With a smirk he pressed the keys into your hand and announced that you and Spencer would be the lucky pair to share the room with the double bed, giving you a wink that made you want to kill him just a little bit. Morgan knows very well about your little, not all that serious crush on your coworker and makes a point to tease you about it whenever he can, which, unfortunately for you, is very often. Your only consolation is that Spencer is too oblivious to pick up on it even though Derek makes sure everyone and their mother knows how you feel about the young doctor. He obviously claims it’s only because he’s playing cupid and can’t stand the two of you dancing around each other for eternity, but you know for a fact that he’s obviously doing it for his own entertainment as well. Besides, playing cupid only gets you so far when only one person has feelings for the other one—which you’re painfully aware is the case for you and Spencer.
With an especially dirty eyeroll you grabbed the keys and turned to look at Spencer who gave you one of his signature tight-lipped awkward smiles. He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of having to share not only a room but also a bed with you and you tried your hardest not to take it personally. You know Spencer values his personal space so having to spend this and the following nights with another person next to him is nothing to look forward to for him—even if it’s with a good friend.
You masked your disappointment and bruised feelings with a small smile of your own and led the way toward the elevators at the end of the hotel lobby, pointedly ignoring Morgan’s teasing voice telling you to have a good night. You silently swore to yourself that you would get back at him for all of this when the case was solved and over, but right now you were more worried about surviving the next few nights of having Spencer so close to you yet completely out of your reach.
Dealing with your unrequited feelings for the young doctor on a daily basis wasn’t always easy for you but you contended yourself with being his coworker and friend even though it hurt more than you cared to admit. In the beginning, you hoped that your feelings would go away if you just ignored them—after all, it was just a stupid little crush on your adorable and dorky new coworker. But as time went on, and you were still plagued by an eruption of butterflies in your stomach whenever Spencer smiled at you, or accidentally brushed your hand with his when handing you a pen or a cup of coffee, or just stood near you for an extended period of time, you had to admit to yourself that your feelings for him were far more serious than you anticipated at first. The thought of just confessing to Spencer had crossed your mind a lot at this point, to get it off your chest, but the possibility of him rejecting you and losing one of your best friends in the process scared you too much to actually go through with it.
And before you knew it Spencer went on a date with JJ and made out with a gorgeous blonde actress in her pool and flirted with pretty barkeepers, and that was proof enough for you that keeping your feelings to yourself was the right course of action which didn’t mean it saved you from heartbreak or feeling sorry for yourself.
You started to distract yourself with alcohol and attractive strangers between cases, collecting fleeting memories with partners who never really helped you forget the one person who was always on your mind and in your heart. You went on like this until you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror anymore, feeling disgusted and ashamed of yourself, knowing that it would only get worse but still not stopping, telling yourself it was the price you had to pay for not having to spend the nights all by yourself. It was until you drunkenly stumbled into the apartment of yet another stranger, hurriedly opening buttons and zippers, carelessly tossing clothes to the floor, giggling when the stranger’s lips connected to yours despite feeling sick to your stomach. You saw it only when the stranger moved to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck; a photo of the stranger’s family, beautiful children and an adoring partner smiling brightly for the camera, and you wondered if you would ignore this too now that you have seen it, like you ignored the noticeable mark on the stranger’s finger where a wedding ring was clearly missing.
You felt faint when you pushed against the stranger’s shoulders, almost falling over your own two feet leaving the apartment only to find yourself in a part of town you were completely unfamiliar with in the middle of the night. Not knowing what else to do, you called Morgan who picked you up sitting on the curb, looking and feeling pathetic with tearstains on your face. He simply raised his eyebrows at you and wordlessly helped you into his car before driving back to his place. There, he gently wrapped you up in a blanket and cuddled with you on his old sofa for the entire length of three feel-good chick flicks all while alternating between handing you spoons of ice cream and tissues to dry your tears, listening to you in the early hours of the morning spilling your guts to him.
Thankfully, he never talked to you about that night again and you were grateful for it; otherwise, you would probably die on the spot from all the shame and embarrassment it would trigger in you. You had still apologized for inconveniencing him like this, staring at his shoes while stumbling over your words, fingernails biting into the palm of your hands. But Derek acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about, flashing you one of his defeating handsome smiles and you knew that all was good between you two, he was still your friend and didn’t think any less of you, so you pulled him down to press a grateful kiss to his cheek.
It didn’t however save you from Derek wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever Spencer and you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder absorbed in case files or when the two of you would share headphones on the jet while returning home. You are used to it by now, simply sticking your tongue out at him or giving him the finger when Hotch and JJ aren’t looking, earning a good-natured laugh from Derek and a confused glance from Spencer, who, to your relief, never quite understands what the constant teasing between you and the older agent is about.
So yes, after seeking pointless comfort with strangers until the point you almost didn’t recognize yourself anymore, you now are at a point where you would say that generally, you are just fine with knowing that Spencer would never see you as anything other than a good friend and coworker.
But after an exhausting day working on a grueling case, having made close to zero progress on it, and having to share a hotel room and a bed with Spencer only to wake up to him holding you in his arms, you really wish the universe would give you a break one of these days so you could take the time to get over your feelings for your genius friend once and for all.
You sigh quietly, willing your racing heart and those malicious butterflies in your stomach to calm down before letting go of Spencer’s hand, trying your best to ignore the pang of disappointment. The feeling only worsens when Spencer moves away from you, carefully putting some distance between yourself and him, taking all his warmth with him and you can’t help but to curl into yourself at that.
You feel him settle on the other side of the bed, already missing his touch even as fleeting as it was, feeling wide awake and wondering how you will ever fall asleep again tonight after that—and the nights still to come.
“I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that,” Spencer’s quiet voice cuts through the silence of the room, his bashfulness palpable with every word. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t, Spence. Don’t worry.” Quite the opposite, but you keep that thought to yourself, opting for lightening the mood instead. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, I had to share a bed with Emily before and I woke up to her having me in a chokehold so I prefer having you as my bedmate by a mile.”
You’re blessed with a little laugh from Spencer, your body relaxing against the unfamiliar mattress but still missing his closeness from before. You feel him shift on his side of the bed and can’t help but wonder if he too was more comfortable with holding you in his arms. But you quickly dismiss this silly thought of yours, knowing that indulging in false hopes and wishful thinking doesn’t save you from the reality that Spencer just doesn’t feel the same way as you.
“But I’m serious. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you reiterate after a moment of silence between the two of you, slowly turning around for a more comfortable position which isn’t in the slightest related to the fact that like this you are facing Spencer now. You can’t really make out his features in the darkness of the hotel room but maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, you probably would give into the temptation of reaching out and brushing a few unruly curls of his behind his ear, your fingers softly lingering on his face just a tad too long.
“That’s—I’m glad…” His voice is quiet, almost distant, and you wonder if he’s already drifting off to sleep again. You couldn’t blame him for that. The day the two of you had was long and wearying, coming into work just to be presented with gruesome pictures from various crime scenes, discussing the UnSub’s profile and MO while being on the jet before being introduced to police officers and grieving family members alike, getting to work without a single break on your mind. If it wasn’t for these inconvenient feelings of yours that caused your heart rate to resemble that of someone who just ran a mile, you would probably feel as exhausted as Spencer is. But in your case, sleep is currently not really something you can think about when all you want is to curl up in his arms like before, feeling warm and safe and happy until the harsh reality of the next morning catches up with you again.
“Still, I’m sorry,” Spencer then whispers into the darkness, your name leaving his lips in a soft sigh, and you frown. There’s really nothing he has to apologize for and you want to tell him as much, but he’s faster than you, his words coming out in a self-conscious rush.
“I’m sorry that you are stuck here with me. I know you’d prefer being with Morgan instead and I’m sorry that he’s being such an idiot about all of this.”
Now you really don’t know what he’s talking about. What does Derek have to do with anything? But Spencer doesn’t let you voice your thoughts, only to confuse you even more.
“I-I know you like Morgan so you were probably hoping that he would just assign this room to himself and you, and I really don’t get why he’s so set on acting like he doesn’t have feelings for you as well. I get he’s not really someone who does relationships but he’s lucky that someone special like you is in love with him so—”
“Spencer, stop—” you suddenly interrupt this agitated rambling of his, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s somehow convinced you have feelings for your fellow agent. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Derek Morgan. We’re friends, but that’s really all there is to it. What on earth makes you think that I like him like that?”
You push yourself up on your elbow in your bewilderment, the sheet that covers you and Spencer falling from your shoulders in the process. You quickly turn around, turning on the light by your bedside, not believing what nonsense you just heard. Dumbfounded, you look at the genius lying beside you, his expression confused and apologetic in return.
“I’m—sorry?” he starts while sitting up slightly so the two of you are at eye level, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I just thought… The two of you are always together, even outside of work, on the weekends. And you have all these little private jokes with Morgan and conversations that always stop whenever someone else gets closer. And he always makes you laugh and flustered, so I just figured—you know, that you like him more than just a friend or a coworker.”
He takes a deep breath and looks away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the stiff hotel sheet while you can only stare at him open-mouthed.
“And I figured that he’s an idiot for not realizing that he’s the luckiest man on earth to have your heart.”
The silence in the dim hotel room stretches on while Spencer pointedly avoids meeting your eyes and you continue to stare at him, your mind still trying to process that he is convinced about your feelings for Morgan when your heart only belonged to Spencer for a long time now, when you wish for nothing but to wake up in his arms like you just did every day for the rest of your life.
You reach for him and grab his face, holding him in place when he’s startled by your sudden action and the intense eye contact, his eyes widening in confusion and shock but you don’t care. You can’t. There’s a sudden need in you for him to understand how wrong he is about your alleged feelings for Morgan, to make him see the truth that was always right in front of him.
So you resolutely look into his eyes, ignoring the subtle trembling of your fingers against his soft skin and the ringing of your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve experienced explosions going off right next to you, you’ve cornered armed serial killers and ran into possibly lethal situations without a second thought, but somehow you’ve never been as fucking sacred as you are right now. You could ruin everything you have with Spencer with what you are about to say, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You need him to know how you feel about him, how you’ve felt about him for so long now.
“Spencer Reid, you listen to me. I am not in love with Derek Morgan, I never was and I never will be. I can’t believe you’d think that when I’ve been pining for you for literal years now! It’s always been you, I need you to know that. From the moment I saw you standing next to Gideon with that stupidly adorable sweater and that awkward smile of yours, I knew I was done for. So I never want to hear you say that I have feelings for Morgan when I’m in love with you!”
Your voice is shaking throughout your little speech, but you make it to the end, intently staring into Spencer’s eyes who looks back at you with such a stupidly shocked expression that you would’ve laughed at him if not for your heart beating so wildly against your ribcage that it physically hurt.
The silence that follows your confession is oppressive and all-consuming, and you let go of Spencer’s face so he doesn’t fall victim to your nervous urge to sink your fingernails into something. Instead, they bite into the skin of your forearms as you hug your midsection, watching the young genius open and close his mouth multiple times without making a sound, his eyes blinking rapidly.
Dejectedly, you nod to yourself, already putting together a list of romantic comedies in your mind Morgan will have to endure together with you while you pathetically sob into his shoulder, tissues and ice cream keeping you company on your little coffee table in front of the TV.
You didn’t really expect it to end any differently, but it still hurt more than you anticipated. Your eyes begin to sting and you close them, stubbornly fighting the urge to cry. You have enough time for that later, preferably when you’re not sharing a room with Spencer anymore and the case is over, so you take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself before opening your eyes again.
Spencer is still looking at you with wide eyes, a noticeable blush adorning his cheeks. Any other time you would find this discovery incredibly endearing, but right now, with your heart in pieces and dangerously close to crying, it only reminds you that you can’t take your words back, that now he knows how you feel about him and that your relationship with him will never be the same again, even if the two of you stay friends.
You manage a meek smile that Spencer doesn’t return, and you wonder if his silent reaction to what you revealed to him could be a blessing in disguise after all. You want him to say something, anything, to you but at the same time you don’t know how well you and your bruised heart would handle hearing him say that he doesn’t feel the same way about you out loud.
What you do know is that you can’t stay here any longer, you need to get out of this room, out of this situation, now.
With one last look at Spencer, you avert your eyes, your voice quiet, tinged with regret.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper before sitting on the edge of the bed, your back now to him, only tilting your head back to speak in his direction. “I’ll ask the others if I can stay in one of their rooms for the night.”
You move to stand up and that’s what snaps Spencer out of his daze at last, hurriedly reaching for you before you can get up, much less process what is happening, one of his large hands on your arm while the other is cupping your jaw tenderly, almost hesitantly. The kiss he pulls you into then is the opposite of that. It’s urgent and desperate and completely steals your breath away, your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach lurching in confused delight. Still, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, entirely too overwhelmed to react, but when you do it’s just as urgent, just as desperate. Your teeth clank together slightly but you ignore it in favor of meeting Spencer’s tongue with your own, your head beginning to spin. You’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the lack of oxygen but you really can’t care less about that at the moment, especially not when you swallow the appreciative groan that falls from Spencer’s lips as one of your hands finds its way into his curls and pulls not all too gently on them.
The kiss only breaks when you’re certain the two of you are running out of air completely but still Spencer whines quietly at the sudden loss of contact, following your lips until the hand in his hair tugs him back. You placate him with a quick peck to his nose before concentrating on calming your heavy breathing and frantically beating heart, your forehead softly resting against his.
You don’t protest when Spencer starts to pull you closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and guide you to settle in his lap, your head now resting on his shoulder, humming in contentment at the kiss he presses to the top of your head. You don’t say anything for a while, having no need for words, not when you feel Spencer’s heart mirror the rhythm of yours as you place your hand on his chest.
You look up at him when he covers your hand with his own and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that makes your skin tingle pleasantly. His eyes swim with emotions but he doesn’t look away as you try to decipher all of them even though his blush reaches from the tip of his ears to somewhere underneath the soft shirt he wears. Your fingers itch to pull the collar of the shirt down a little, just to see how far that blush really goes when he quietly clears his throat, the bright smile on his pretty lips faltering slightly.
“I’m sorry for—for not saying anything just now. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure you really meant what you said, I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t some sort of joke.”
You shift in his embrace, ready to repeat what you have said, to express what you feel for him until he is sick of hearing your voice, but before you can even open your mouth, he quickly steals a kiss from you, and then another one, effectively shutting you up and looking quite proud of himself too when he meets your eyes again. So you have no choice but to let him finish what he has to say like you always do, always giving him time to collect his thoughts and listening to him when he is ready to share them with you.
“But I know you would never lie to me, especially not about something like this and only then did I realize we could’ve been doing this years ago if I hadn’t been such an idiot and too blind to see what was in front of me all along because—because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now too.”
The smile that spreads on your face is so big it hurts your cheeks, radiant enough to challenge the whole sun and you have to twist your fingers into the front of Spencer’s shirt to pull him down to you so you can feel his lips on yours again. They’re soft and warm and real and when you part again the laugh that bubbles past his is like music to your ears, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.
You lean further into him and his arms around you tighten in response, enjoying the comfortable silence in this unfamiliar hotel room for a little while longer before gently speaking up again.
“You’re not an idiot Spencer. How could you have known when I’ve always been too scared to say anything? But now I did and we’ve finally found each other, and from now on we can make up for lost time. What do you say, my pretty boy?”
The adoration shining clearly in his brown eyes tells you everything you need to know and you move in to kiss him once more, preferably without ever stopping again, but suddenly Spencer tenses against you, making you look up at him with a quizzical look.
You can’t stop the little groan that escapes you at his next words.
“You and Morgan—did you really never—?”
As your genius worries his bottom lip between his teeth you really wish Morgan would finally stop being a part of your conversation.
“I—I believe what you’ve said, that you don’t have feelings for him,” Spencer continues, “but I’d understand if at some point, you know—because the way you are around each other—"
“Spencer. Let’s not do this again,” you have to interrupt a second time this night, but not unkindly. “Yes, even though I have feelings for you I have slept with other people, but it never meant anything to me—in fact, it just made me feel so, so horrible. And when it comes to Morgan—he and I are friends and that is all there is to it. It’s true I spend a lot of time with him, that we have a lot of little inside jokes and private conversations just for our ears, but do you want to know what the one common factor is with all of these things? It’s you, Spence.”
You emphasize your words with a kiss to his jaw, easing the tentative look he gives you by gently running your fingers through his soft hair.
“Most of the time I spent with Derek was just me whining about how much I wish you were mine and how unfair it is how adorable you look whatever you do and how smart and kind and pretty you are, and that you probably tried to kill me when you wore your glasses to work every day for some time. It’s honestly a miracle Morgan didn’t also develop a crush on you by sheer proximity to me, like through osmosis. He had to listen to me for years pining about you so he gets back at me for it by teasing me relentlessly about you, so I’ll have you know that all of our funny little private jokes are actually at my expense. My point is, even if Morgan would’ve wanted to start something with me—which he never did by the way—, he, and those other people too, never stood a chance because I only ever had eyes for you, Spence.”
“Oh.”
Spencer shakes his head in disbelief but he’s grinning like a fool with his cheeks and ears painted cherry red. He’s quick to hide his face in your hair, too overwhelmed by the sincerity in your voice and you think that now your genius finally, finally understands. But still, you would continue to reassure him about your feelings if his insecurities should get the better of him again, understanding that he doesn’t doubt you but that the voice in his head sometimes isn’t the kindest to him and that everything about this is very new to him.  
You close your eyes, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder until you’re on the brink of falling asleep, the comfortable and content silence of the hotel room and the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest steadily lulling you to sleep. After the long day you’ve had and the excitement of this night, exhaustion has now caught up with you and if the big yawn that escapes Spencer is any indication, he is feeling its effect as well.
You’re vaguely aware of Spencer reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before moving the both of you to lay down together, shifting and coordinating limbs until you’re both comfortable with him holding you in his arms, his hand resting softly on your stomach and your fingers interlacing with his.
You smile to yourself, knowing that from now on you’ll have the privilege of falling asleep like this every night—in the arms of your beloved genius.
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moonstruckme · 2 months ago
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Hi Mae!
I love your writing so much and think about it maybe too often haha. Today I fell and sliced the back of my hand open so I had to go wait 4 hours at the ER to get it sutured back together and I thought it might be a sort of funny scenario to write about with the marauders where R just walks up to them covered in blood like “heyy who wants to drive me to the ER” and is pretty chill in demeanour until the reality of having a hole in her hand sets in once they clean her up. I went into shock then, lost my hearing for a few minutes which was scary, but luckily I had a someone nearby who could help. Of course no worries if you don’t feel like it, I appreciate you and I hope you have a lovely day!♡
Thanks for requesting! I hope your hand is feeling better lovely <3
cw: blood, mention of razors (unrelated to blood)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 788 words
“Hey, Sirius?” 
Sirius screws the brush of his nail polish back into the bottle. “Yeah?” 
“Are you busy?” 
“Not anymore.” He gets up from the bed, wandering towards your voice in the bathroom. “What’s up, gorgeous? You need something?” 
Sirius stalls when he finds you. You’re standing there with a dissatisfied frown on your face, your hand a basin of blood held in front of you that’s overflowing into the sink. 
“Maybe a ride to A&E?” you ask. “If you’re free.” 
“What the hell happened?” Sirius goes to you. He tries to take your hand, but you move it away. 
“Wait, your nails—” 
“I’m not really worried about my nails right now, babe.” He holds you by the wrist, turning the faucet on to a gentle flow before bringing your hand underneath it. The blood washes away quickly, and Sirius blocks your view of the cut, leaning down to see it. “How’d you manage this?” 
“I was just opening my new razors—” 
“Razors?” 
“It wasn’t even the razors that did it,” you say, a laugh somewhere in your voice. Your raised voices have drawn attention from the rest of the house. Remus and then James appear in the doorway. “It was the plastic it comes in. Surprisingly sharp.” 
“What’s going on?” asks James. 
“She would like to know,” Sirius informs him, “if it’s convenient for any of us to drive her to A&E.” 
You roll your eyes. “Alright, you don’t have to say it like that. I just mean that it’s not so dire, I’m hardly bleeding out.” 
“You might be!” 
“What’d you do, love?” Remus moves forward to see, he and Sirius now clustered on either side of you, each closer to your own hand than you are. 
“She managed to injure herself with plastic packaging.”
“Okay. Again, the tone is a bit much,” you say. 
“Aw, sweetheart.” James’ arms wrap around your waist. He smudges a kiss onto your cheek. “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah,” you tell him, audibly softening at the affection, “it doesn’t even hurt that bad, it’s only stinging…” You go quiet. 
Sirius glances back at you, and you’re staring between him and Remus, your hand in your view for the first time. You look suddenly paler. 
“Hey, baby.” Sirius’ voice draws the attention of the other two to what’s happened. He steps in front of your hand again, squeezing up the length of your arm. “You’re okay.” 
“It’s…” You stare at where you had been for a moment longer, then snap your vision to the side. You’re breathing a tad faster. “God, sorry. I feel sort of sick.” 
“Take some breaths, dove, you’re alright.” Remus holds your hand close to his chest, shielding it from your view as he reaches into a nearby drawer for bandages. “We’re just going to stop the bleeding and then take you to A&E, you don’t have to do anything.” 
“All of you?” 
“Why?” James gives your middle a light squeeze. “Are there some of us you’d rather not have there?”
“I knew she had favorites.” Sirius grins. “Cruel. We’re only trying to be there for you, gorgeous.” 
You smile a little bit for their sake. You’re not sure either of them believe it, but James gives you a thankful kiss nonetheless. 
“Keep breathing,” he reminds you, big hand rubbing up and down your abdomen. “You’re really doing so well. I was surprised by how calm you seemed a minute ago.” 
“You should have heard her before you got here.” Sirius squints his eyes at you playfully. “She wouldn’t let me touch her hand because she was worried it’d mess up my nail polish.” 
“Sweetheart,” James laughs, giving you another fond squeeze. “Really?” 
“Priorities, babe,” Sirius chides you. 
“Alright,” says Remus. You feel a kiss on your knuckles, and then he’s turning around, your bandaged hand still held protectively between both of his. “Is anyone going to warm the car, or do I have to do everything?” 
You nod, chastened, and start towards the door, but you’re dragged back by three pairs of hands. 
“I mean anyone not injured, dove.” Remus’ voice is heavy with loving exasperation. 
“See what we’ve been dealing with? It’s a two man job.” Sirius squeezes your shoulder on his way past, presumably going to warm the car. James says something about getting your shoes and follows behind.
You give Remus a woeful look. He tsks, folding you into a hug. “Did you really prioritize Sirius’ nail polish over your bleeding hand?” he asks in a murmur. 
You mush your cheek to his chest. “Only for a minute.” 
Remus is quiet, but his amused breath fans over the top of your head as he brings his lips down for a kiss.
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uronlywon · 6 months ago
Text
I'M NOT HIM - s.jy ( 심재윤 ) ; drabble ➤ an attempt to get over your ex . . .
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pairing .ᐟ best friend!jake x afab!reader
contains .ᐟ dom!jake, mention of heeseung as an ex, jealous jake !!
warnings .ᐟ MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, porn with little plot, slight dubcon, pet name use (baby, good girl), little blindfold use, skin biting/sucking, mentions of mark making, unprotected sex (use protection pls), oral (fem rec), creampie, let me know if i missed something !
vee's note .ᐟ first drabble? it's more like a scenario but idrk... i'm afraid that this might be really terrible but i need some sort of filler while i continue to write bittersweet, which might i say, is taking forever.
wc .ᐟ [ 1.4k ]  other works . . . masterlist ; read more !
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YOU HAD JUST BROKEN UP WITH YOUR EX, LEE HEESEUNG.
To be honest, you kind of saw it coming, but it still painfully hurt you, you two had been together for almost 2 years. You caught him cheating on you with another woman in your shared bedroom, which you found absolutely disgusting.
If you weren’t going to be with Heeseung anymore, who else would satisfy you as good as him?
Maybe your best friend can; Jaeyun.
So you showed up at his place, holding nothing but a blindfold in one of your hands.
You quickly found your back pressed into the soft mattress of Jaeyun’s bed. Clothes were discarded all over the ground, the blindfold tied around your head.
For a few minutes now, he had peppered your neck with plenty of kisses, leaving a couple of red and purplish marks in his tracks. He suckled on your perky nipples, taking one in his mouth whilst his fingers flicked and twisted the other, stifling a soft moan out of you. It baffled him how pretty your breasts were, perfect curves topped with rose-coloured buds.
He continued to nip at your plush skin, from your jaw to your collarbone, painting you with his mouth as if you were his masterpiece in the making. You looked so pretty under him like this, even though you can’t see him.
After getting enough of your neck and chest, Jaeyun flipped you over onto your stomach, the sudden gesture startling you. With the blindfold on, it was hard to tell what things were going to happen next.
Jaeyun took his hard cock into his hand, pumping it a few times before bringing it to meet with your soaked pussy. He decided to ditch the condom, you never mentioned anything about it anyway. You could feel him prodding at your entrance, immense desire growing as you wiggled your hips closer to him, “Hmn-.. Please, hurry..” You whimpered out.
“Eager are we?” Jaeyun teased, a small chuckle escaping from his lips, “Good girls have patience. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He asked, voice almost completely oozing with lust.
You don’t respond.
Your brain was entirely clouded with just desperation that you could only let out another whimper.
A smirk forms on Jaeyun’s face. He never thought he would have his best friend, on his bed, spread open for him to use. He’s always had a tiny crush on you, he won’t deny that.
With Jaeyun’s cock already lined up with your pleading hole, he began to slowly let his length sink into you and oh man, was he big. The little moans he drew out from you only fueled him more, the desire to ruin you only becoming stronger.
Not long after, he bottomed out, his whole dick sitting deep and snug inside of you. “Fuck, Y/n, so tight for me,” He muttered, whilst beginning to thrust himself in and out of you slowly to get you adjusted to his size. Your cute tiny noises only grew louder.
“Mmf— More, please-” You begged, hands mindlessly grabbing the bed sheets beneath you, grip tightening until your knuckles were almost sure to lose their colours. “S..So good! Heeseung!—”
Heeseung?
Right. Maybe Jaeyun should’ve known better. You weren’t here for him, you were here for yourself.
And you wouldn’t be here right now if your precious boyfriend didn’t cheat on you.
You would be fucking with Heeseung instead.
With his jaw clenched, Jaeyun fucked into your went cunt faster and harder, the sound of both of your skins slapping against each other filled the lustful atmosphere. “Ignore it,” He thought to himself, trying not to think too much about it. All that mattered now was your pleasure and not his feelings.
Whilst fucking into you, he let his hands trail to the soft skin of your waist, his hands wrapping around your small middle, giving it a harsh squeeze in the process. “More.. More, more! Hee!” You chanted, the pleasure you were currently receiving clearly not enough for you. 
Hee.
It was getting harder for Jaeyun to keep his composure, the way you called out for Heeseung when he wasn’t even there, the constant ‘Heeseungs’ and ‘Hees’ clearly starting to irritate him. He used one of his hands to effortlessly spread legs wider for him to gain more access, then he proceeded to thrust into you whilst keeping himself in check. “Fucking.” Thrust! “Ignore.” Thrust! “It.” Thrust!
Your body began to grow limp, and you felt a familiar knot forming in your tummy, just waiting to burst. “Ah- ‘m so close!” You exclaimed, trying to chase your orgasm by rocking your hips at the same pace as Jaeyun’s.
“Yeah? Y..You’re close?” Jaeyun panted out, it was obviously a rhetorical question. “You like this cock this much, huh? Gonna come for me like a good girl, aren’t you?” He continued, stringing out more questions and praise.
It took all of your remaining consciousness to muster out a singular sentence. “Mhm! Hah— ‘mma come for you like a- g..good girl..,”
“Whose good girl?”
Was that a stupid to ask? Yes. Jaeyun knew he wasn’t the one you longed for, but he still had a slither of hope lingering in his head.
“Yours! Hee- Heeseung’s good girl!”
Wrong answer.
Then everything happens so quickly. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back again, blindfold ripped off your face as well as you pending orgasm. You no longer felt his dick inside of you, leaving you clenching on air. “What the fuck?!–”
When you take in everything that just happened, your eyes engulf your surroundings. The purple LEDs, how humid the room is and—
And…
Jaeyun.
Before you got the chance to say anything at him, or get upset at him for ruining the moment, he suddenly thrusted back into you, making you jolt. Then a series of words started to come out of his mouth. “God, Y/n.. Please, stop calling out to that fucker.” Jaeyun began, ‘that fucker’ referring to Heeseung. 
“Jae—”
“No. Listen.” He cut you off, obviously not done saying everything he intended to. He proceeded to speak whilst bucking his hips to meet yours, groaning softly. “Can’t you just accept it, Y/n?”
Accept what?
“Like- Can’t you just accept Heeseung doesn’t want you anymore? I mean, he cheated on you for fuck’s sake.”
Wow. You never expected somebody to ever say those words to you whilst they were fucking the shit out of your cunt.
“Please!” He beseeched, growing vulnerable as his thrusts picked up in pace. “Accept that—”
“I’m not him.”
The three words do something to you. Seeing your best friend at your mercy was not something that was very common, even though he held the most power in your current situation. But you couldn’t muster out a proper response, due to the sensation of being fucked into by him.
The way Jaeyun’s hips worked magic was dizzying you, or maybe it was the fact you just got edged?
Soon enough the pleasure was too much to bear, pleasure pricking at the corner of your eyes as your awaited orgasm approaches you. “Jaeyun!–” You called out, and you called out his name.
“Yeah, baby..? Fuck, say it again- Say my name again.” Jaeyun asked desperately, his own name rolling off your tongue pleasing him.
“J…Jaeyun! ‘m close- let me cum, please!”
Oh, he was gonna let you cum. If you answered correctly this time.
“Whose- good girl are you, huh?”
Panting, you make eye contact with him, the purple LED lights illuminating his face. Damn, you never realised how fucking attractive your own best friend actually is. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and he smirks at you.
“Yours..”
“Can’t hear you.” 
“Yours!”
Jaeyun’s hand comes up to your tummy as he continues to snap into you. He rests it on top of your abdomen before progressively applying pressure. “Who’s ‘yours’, hm?.”
The pressure on your lower stomach only adds up to your awaiting orgasm, each thrust bringing you closer to it. “Fuckfuckfuck! Jaeyun!- Gonna cum—”
“I know, baby. I know.” He grunted, drawing his cock in and out of you even faster, chasing both of your highs, getting sloppier by the minute. “C’mon baby, say it. Who’s ‘yours’? Whose good girl are you?”
You’re almost there. So, so close to cumming.
“J-Jaeyun’s good girl!” You exclaimed, loudly.
The smirk displayed on Jaeyun’s face only widens, “Good girl.” He muttered out, completely satisfied. “Shhii.. Cum with me, baby—” He moaned out, head throwing back as he chased both of your orgasms.
With one final thrust, the both of you come undone, your release coating his dick entirely whilst he fills you to the brim with his warm cum.
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LIKES ONLY GO SO FAR ! IF YOU LIKE IT, REBLOG IT.
vee's note .ᐟ sorry you had to read that because it sucks.
©𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺𝘸𝘰𝘯, 2024 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘋 | 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥
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arcadia-of-pluto · 3 months ago
Text
Casually calling them "daddy" LADS
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Word count; 1,913
Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship
Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff
Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!
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You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…
Xavier 
It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 
But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 
Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 
You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier��� who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 
You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 
“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 
You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 
“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”
“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.
 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 
You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 
“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 
Gosh, he was so cute. 
“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 
“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 
Zayne 
You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 
The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 
Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 
He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 
So, what did you decide to do? 
You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.
That should definitely go over well. 
Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 
“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 
“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 
"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 
“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”
“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 
Rafayel 
It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…
Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 
It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 
He was also so easy to fluster. 
You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 
You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 
Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 
As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 
“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 
“Huh?” 
It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 
“Again.” 
Now, it's your turn to be confused. 
“Raf, what–” 
“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 
“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 
“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 
“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 
“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”
Sylus
It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 
It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 
This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.
But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 
...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 
You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 
And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 
So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 
“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 
“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 
“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 
Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 
“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 
Okay, you got this. 
You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 
The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 
“Sure, kitten.” 
Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 
“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 
“Da–”
“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 
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I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!
I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!
I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)
Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.
I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷
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amomentsescape · 27 days ago
Note
Slashers handling ovulating s/o?? 😚
Btw I love your work so much! You’re amazing
Slashers with Ovulating! Reader
Slashers x Reader (Separate)
Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo
Warnings: MDNI, suggestive and mature content (It gets pretty steamy but nothing too crazy)
A/N: Definitely the most NSFW fic I've posted on this page. As a reminder, I don't write smut so this will probably be as steamy as I get for my posts. But this was a fun request, and I enjoyed writing for it! Thank you, Anon!
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Freddy Krueger
Your dreams give you away
(Yes, he'll watch your dreams if he's not already controlling them; there's no privacy with this man)
And he's very interested in these dreams you've been having recently
It only takes a couple for Freddy to quickly snap
You'll go to sleep one night only to find yourself immediately in Freddy's domain
The setting and environment feeling very familiar somehow
You won't see him at first, but you'll definitely feel him around you, his voice echoing around the dreamscape
"Wanna make those dreams come true, baby?" he cackles throughout the darkness
Before you'll be able to respond, you'll feel his hand slide over your waist
The question was mostly out of politeness
He's not going to let you say no now that he has you (not that you were going to anyways)
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Michael Myers
He picks up on everything in an instant
Your smell, your actions, your voice- literally everything is screaming at him
Now, Michael has a lot of self-discipline
He could just go about the day like usual and not need to indulge in anything
But he wants to
Don't mistaken this for "giving in"
It's just another way for him to put himself in control
You're just so desperate for him that he can just about get away with anything he wants
A simple touch has you weak in the knees, a slap on the ass has you arching your back
He could just absolutely ruin you these next few days
And he is very much planning on doing so
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Jason Voorhees
Jason is fairly innocent when it comes to this sort of topic with you
But unlike Bubba, he does pick up on your teasing after a bit, he's just too flustered to do anything back
He loves the attention, but the way you're making him feel is causing him to freeze up and blush wildly under his mask
He knows you love him, but he can't understand how someone like you could possibly desire someone like him
He can't even hold eye contact with you when you're looking at him like that
When you've finally grown too impatient, you'll hop on his lap and grab his cheek, forcing him to look at you
He'll give you a big sigh and concerned eyes, silently asking if you're sure
"Jason. I want you. I want you and only you."
Those words must have been laced with magic, because a switch flips, and he's suddenly standing up, holding you bridal style
He'll toss you onto the bed and crawl on top, suddenly more confident than earlier
Looks like all he needs is a little bit of reassurance during this time of the month
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Thomas Hewitt
It might just be the primal side of him, but he can literally smell it
Your pheromones during this time of month are always consistent to the point that he anticipates this weeks in advance
He lingers around you more often than normal (which isn't saying much since he stays near you 99% of the time anyways)
He's just waiting for the moment that you'll let him take a bite
And if you bump into him just slightly, his breath hitches and he'll freeze, hoping maybe you'll turn that bump into something more
Stands a little too close to you so he can breathe in your scent
But he's also hoping it'll increase the chance of you rubbing up against him on "accident"
This only makes things worse for the both of you until you two are finally alone together
All you have to do is give him that look, and he's throwing you over his shoulder, locking you two away for the night
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Bubba Sawyer
Bubba is a very innocent man
He didn't even really know what the concept of "sex" was before you
So unfortunately for you, pulling out all stops will quite literally do nothing
You could stand there completely bare in front of him, and he'll sweetly think you want to shower
That's not to say you're constant touches and flirting don't do anything for him
They do, he just doesn't understand what that feeling is yet
When you finally get to be alone with him, you'll gently let your hands wander, watching carefully at his reactions
Once you hit a sensitive spot, you'll know
His breath will hitch and he'll give you this soft, pleading look
And once you kiss him, that fire inside him will quickly engulf his body
You just have to give him a sweet questioning glance, and he'll be feverishly nodding his head, grabbing at your wrists to continue
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Brahms Heelshire
To be honest, whether or not your ovulating doesn't really change how Brahms acts around you day to day
Because he is always down bad for you
But he does appreciate how quickly you seem to return his advances during this time of the month
He enjoys turning it into some sort of game when he can too
You'll feel his breath on your neck, only to be met with an empty room
You'll feel his gaze on you all throughout the house without a single sight of his whereabouts
When you finally have had enough, you'll break
Turning on the shower peaks his interest
And the moment he sees that first button of your top open, he's revealing himself from the walls
You've been working so hard for him today
He thinks it's time for you to finally relax
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Norman Bates
Norman knows before you do
The sweet man tracks your cycles for you, always wanting to be prepared to care for you in the way you need
But this time of month isn't one where he feels too bold
He becomes even more shy somehow, having trouble holding eye contact
Every kiss or hug from you sets him aflame, and he turns into a blushing mess
It's honestly like he's the one who's ovulating
And all you have to do is hold him for just a little bit too long and whisper in his ear to make him break
He'll quite literally fall to his knees in front of you, waiting for anything
He'll do whatever it is you ask
Like I said, he wants to care for you in any way you need
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Billy Loomis
He tries to be smug about everything
You're more affectionate than normal, even doing some PDA that he's not used to from you
He just acts like his usual self out in public
But the moment you two are alone, he confronts you
He'll pin you against the door, his free hand wandering across your skin while he looks at you with dark eyes
"You think I can't see what you're doing? It's not very nice of you to be such a tease."
His voice is barely above a whisper while his grip on you tightens
His wandering hand finds the most sensitive spot on you and squeezes, causing you to let out a whimper
He smiles in return
"You're going to have to do better than that to make it up to me," he whispers, leaning in gently
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Stu Macher
Look at this guy
He literally can't keep his tongue in his mouth (sorry, bad joke)
He can tell something is up though
You're more cuddly than usual, practically sitting on his lap at all points during the day
And Stu does not mind one bit, but he isn't sure what's gotten into you
You're hoping he'll take the hint, but he's as oblivious as he is happy
It's only when you straddle his lap and kiss him deeply that he understands what's going on
His hands are on you in an instant
He'll happily oblige to your "demands"
Just be careful when and where you decide to break though
Because the moment you open that door, Stu will be having you in that instant
And if he has to pull you into a broom closet in public to do so...
He will
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Vincent Sinclair
Despite barely seeing the light of day most of his life, he's fairly knowledgeable about everything
But unlike his brother, he doesn't really get driven up the wall by this time of the month
He just wants you to be happy, so if being flirted with and touched every two seconds is what you want, he'll happily go along with it
Even though his face feels like it's going to burn off again every time
He won't initiate anything, but he also won't say no to anything you do
Just guide his hands and tell him what you need, and he'll be helping you out instantly
He doesn't even expect anything in return
But when you smile at him just like that, his brain might short circuit
He'll be your slave if you ask nicely
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Bo Sinclair
Bo is, well, Bo
He sometimes acts like he can't tell or that he's too "deep" into his work at the moment to be bothered
But he knows
And he loves the feeling of being needed and desired
You'll come up to him, hugging him for a bit too long, your hands lingering on his chest and torso
He likes to play coy
He wants to see you break first
He'll happily make it worse for you too
Hands on your waist, a gentle caress of your neck, that piercing gaze of his
He can see your face flush and body practically tremble at his actions
But he won't do anything about it
It won't be until the end of the day when he finally comes back home to find you already waiting at the door
You about have to throw yourself onto him before that smile finally breaks out onto his face
"So impatient, aren't we darlin'? Gonna show me just how badly you need me?"
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luveline · 7 months ago
Note
hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday
im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping
could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.
i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶
thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k
Can I come over? Are you home 
You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 
Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 
Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 
What kind of dinner my love  
Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 
Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 
You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?
You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 
What’s wrong??? 
Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 
You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 
“What does that mean?” 
“You don’t have to rush over.” 
“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 
“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 
Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 
“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 
“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”
“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 
“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 
“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 
“You’re always good company, you loon.” 
“You what?” 
“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 
“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 
“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 
“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”
“I know what you want.” 
“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”
“Don’t you dare.” 
“Spencer!” you laugh. 
“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 
“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 
“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 
Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 
You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 
He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 
You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 
“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 
“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 
“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 
“It’s in my back.” 
Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 
“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 
“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 
“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 
“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 
You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 
“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”
Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 
“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 
“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 
You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”
He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 
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rafesbangs · 4 days ago
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𝜗𝜚 mean!rafe loves cockwarming but you're not such a huge fan
c!w; mdni !! mean!rafe, desperate reader, cockwarming obviously tehe, bit of degradation ig?, use of the nickname bunny, dumbification sorta, overstimulation?, creampie, writer doesnt know what they're doing lol. notes; first work !! um i apologise in advance bcs i used to write wattpad fics but i've just been a tumblr lurker... until now lol. pls leave me feedback!
rafe had been fucking you rough for what felt like hours. you were basically seated on his lap, backup against his chest with his cock deep in your sore wet hole. he was always pretty merciless when you had sex but this? this was just cruel.
after rapidly pounding you with his strong arms holding you up slightly by your ass as you yelped and tried to claw at his flexed bicep, he had let you fall hard onto his lap again, but didn't move.
you could feel his piercing smirk adorning his lips even without facing him. the way you wriggled, trying to gain whatever friction you could again, as you sat there begging to cum made him sooo smug.
you tried to move again, dragging your legs up from being splayed out in front of you to gain some height and fuck yourself on his dick, but he stopped you. grabbing at your hips with a bruising grip, "ah ah, you need to be patient baby..."
you whined at his scolding, the feeling of being so full of cock wasn't enough, you needed to move. your lips were red and swollen from pouting and nipping at them all this time, you grabbed one of his hands that was still on your hip, hoping the desperate touch would convince him to let you have your way.
"sooo needy aren't we bunny? god, dick's got you acting all dumb, huh? just want to be fucked soo bad, don't we?" he teased, his words syrupy. he was torturing you on purpose, having fun with it. he could handle the lack of friction, the way you were desperately clenching around him, your cunt fluttering everytime his chest rose and fell because that was basically the only movement you were getting now.
"rafeee" you whined, eyes closed and eyebrows cinched together as if you were in pain, "please... pleaseplease. i need you to move." he loved the way you whined his name, the way you begged, there was almost nothing you could do to get what you want at this point.
you looked down, a creamy line of arousal gathered around the base of rafe's cock. your breathing going all ragged as rafe ignored you and the sight of his cock so deep in your pussy only made you more wet and desperate.
you tilted your head back, getting all dizzy from the pressure of waiting and the way you were breathing too heavily. "aww, 's my bunny getting flustered and dizzy? this cock got you so good all thoughts are gone baby?" rafe chuckled, his hot breath on your neck making you twitch.
"please rafey it's so deep i need you to fuck me so bad..." you said all breathy, his weakness. you figured you might as well pull out all the stops now. with your head leaning back on his shoulder, you could sort of see his face, his jaw ticking in contemplation as you could feel his dick perk up at your words before. you grinned and continued, "rafeee... it's all i want."
he rolled his head to the side before finally moving his hands, one slid from your hip to the heat fresh and pooling in your lower tummy, finding itself on your clit. you gasped at the touch while his other hand slid under your ass, gesturing you to rise up a little again.
as soon as you did, you could hear a little scoff at the back of your neck before he began thrusting into you again, hard and fast. your loud pornagraphic moans bounced off the walls as he groaned into your neck, both of you really winning in the end when you came simultaniously, rafe then fucking the creampie back into you slowly.
"mmh, such a needy dumb bunny" he'd mumbled, still playing with your clit as he watched your pussy swallow the white liquid.
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yesimwriting · 5 months ago
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Normalcy
A/n deadpool and wolverine drabble bc the movie was a little too good
Summary: Still reeling from the loss of your powers, you struggle to hold it together inside the TVA's void. Thankfully, you find an uncharacteristically peaceful distraction in your old friend Deadpool and in the wolverine variant who wants nothing to do with you.
Warnings/info: reader is a (former) avenger (bc i love the avengers <3), reader is described as having similar powers to wanda and having trained with her (bc i love wanda), implied beginning of an accidental love triangle if you squint ig, maybe too much lore for a drabble (?), me writing for characters for the first time so be nice 😭
----
The lines etched into your palms do not bend and twist to spell out secrets, there are no messages worth decoding pressed into your skin. Knowing this is not enough to stop you from staring at your hands like if you could just think about it hard enough...
"There you are, Peanut." The words are so warm you're briefly pulled out of your internal angst. You straighten, head lifting slightly and arms crossing in front of your chest. "Thought I lost you."
Wade continues forward until he's directly in front of you. He pauses, watching you with an unabashed openness that you'd only ever allow him to get away with. "Kidding," he tries, "I'd never lose you."
The familiarity of the casual affection eases you further, the corner of your mouth tugging itself upwards. "I was like 15 feet away from you."
"Sorry for caring." It's his go to comeback when it comes to defending the displays of affection you have the audacity to find overdramatic.
You blink, lips parting despite your lack of response. The world has felt a little slower these last few days, moving at a pace that leaves you with no choice but to reflect. Maybe it's the void.
"Hey," his voice feels a little flatter without his usual humor, "Are you okay?"
You let out a breath, shocked by this new low. Sure, you've known Wade for awhile and you've both seen each other through plenty of stages, but he's never felt the need to attempt a genuine pep talk for you. He's never struck you as the pep talk sort...for anyone. Do you really seem that off?
It's bad enough that your identity crisis has stolen the abilities that would have helped your trio pop out of the void with no real fanfare, you can't also make your insecurities everyone else's problem. "Yeah." The response doesn't feel convincing, but with Wade wearing the Deadpool mask, it's hard to be sure. "Just y'know...we're in a void and our reality might be ripped apart, so I've been better."
He's still watching you with a level of focus that's unnerving. You've gotten used to his familiarity, his lack of care for personal space or the social rules around watching people. "You're doing it again."
"Seducing you with my ability to have a heart to heart while looking this good in my suit?"
You sigh in an attempt to dismiss your slight smile. Happy or sad, superhero that once fought Thanos or regular person that can't regulate their emotions, Wade always treats you the same. "The staring thing. You said you'd stop."
"No, you said I'd stop." The correction is a return to what you're used to. He takes a step towards you, his proximity now forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to look him in the eye. "I'd never promise to look at you less."
"Comforting."
He angles his chin downwards, making the limited distance feel more significant. "I thought so." For a moment, he's quiet in a way that doesn't feel very him. "Are you sure you're...good?" His hesitance is another reminder that this is far out of his element. "I know this is your first..." Wade's rarely careful, only ever treading lightly on the one subject you never want to bring. "Outing, since..."
"I lost my powers."
Wade goes quiet again. If this conversation is as inevitable as it seems, a part of you wishes it could have come up elsewhere. Maybe in your shared apartment, definitely without the mask so you could better interpret his reactions. It's not often you keep secrets from him, but the hollowness you feel knowing the part of yourself you've lost isn't something you can just share.
It's more than just about missing your party tricks, it's about losing a part of yourself. They were all that was left of your time with the Avengers, of what Wanda taught you before Westview.
He lets out a breath. "They're not lost." You raise your eyebrows slightly, giving him a look meant to caution him against sympathetic optimism. "We don't know that."
He seems so happy to be able to tell you that there's no proof that any and all magical abilities have been flushed out of your system, you don't have it in you to remind him that that's mainly because you have no one to ask. What's left of the Avengers and your government connections either barely understand what you were or are untrustworthy.
"Educated wish?"
His mask muffles a slight gasp. You press your lips together in an attempt to resist smiling. "The last one worked out great."
Your eyebrows pull together skeptically, a reminder that the two of you are still technically in the middle of the last educated wish he attempted to speak into existence. "Didn't Wolverine stab you multiple times--"
He cuts you off with a heavy sigh. "If I took getting stabbed personally, do you know where we'd be?"
In a reality where Wade holds grudges over those kinds of things, you wouldn't be anything to each other, except maybe enemies. You've never pulled a knife or sword or anything sharp on him, but when you first met he did startle you before you had a total grip on your abilities, which resulted in him getting thrown through a wall.
"I never stabbed you."
His hand finds your shoulder. You let him drag his thumb against against the fabric of your suit. "And that's how I know you really love me, Peanut."
You roll your eyes in an attempt to dislodge the warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach. The last thing Wade needs is encouragement. "I mean, I do go around stabbing everyone I like less than you."
He lets out a sound that feels like a scoff attempting to mask itself as a dry laugh. "There's the sense of humor that'd hurt me if I knew you less."
"Well--"
He squeezes your shoulder, "I know you." Okay. You'll let him have this one because maybe there's some truth to what he's saying. "I'm going to go check on the car, because a fucking Honda Odyssey would break down on us for no reason before we got to the fight."
"For no reason or because of the bitch fight you and Wolverine had in it?"
There's a beat of silence in which all you can do is try to imagine Wade's expression behind the mask. You'd like to think that he's smiling. "Oh, Pumpkin." He sighs as if you've stumbled onto saying something terribly naive. "It wasn't a bitch fight, it was awesome, and probably turned you on."
You deadpan a flat, "You caught me." He hasn't let go of your shoulder, and a part of you is oddly glad for it. "I'd offer you help with the car, but..."
You're self aware enough to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses, car maintenance being the latter. Wade doesn't even let you get your oil changed by yourself anymore.
"I've met you." He squeezes your shoulder again, the gesture weirdly stabilizing. "Give me 15 minutes to actually look at the car and then I'm all yours."
Wade lets go of you, his arm falling to his side. "Aren't you always?"
He lets out an exaggerated gasp. "You're making me feel cheaper than my usual rate, Peanut."
You smile as he turns away. Things are always a little easier with Wade. It's more than just distraction, it's his way of making things feel a little lighter. You're not sure what to do with your 15 minutes of solitude to avoid falling back into self pity.
You originally broke away from the group of void trapped heroes under the premise of needing fresh air, but even here, with the expansive, sparsely wooded area at your disposal, the oxygen in your lungs still feels flat. If Wanda were around, you'd be able to ask if she felt the strangeness of this other plane of existence as well. At least then you'd know if your dislike of the void is only mental or an actual sign of life from your abilities.
You begin to walk forward, hoping to shed all thoughts of both your former self and the eeriness of this other world. There are other people you could talk to you. The others have been polite enough, or at the very least, passionate enough to be talked into facing Cassandra.
The trees you've been wandering through grow in their sparsity, the edge of the woods revealing a patch of grassland highlighted by a fire's warm glow. You squint past the tree line, attempting to make out the figure sitting in front of the flames. Wolverine.
Secluded from the group and staring at a campfire. Surprising. Though, you guess it's not fair to judge him too harshly, you left the group to brood as well.
He doesn't like you, doesn't know you well enough to dislike you, but it took him no time to find a way to get around that. Maybe it's your proximity to Wade. You've done your best to take his hostility as un-personally as possible. You've seen enough people you really care about go through the guilt ridden, fallen hero thing to know how deep that kind of hurt runs.
You've never known a Wolverine or Logan Howlett variant, so you have no way of knowing what he was like before. Sure, you've heard stories, but you're also overly aware of how the media can twist and turn those stories to fit their narrative. One day, a superhero is the world's greatest protector, and the next their the greatest menace. Maybe he was always a little dark, or maybe he wasn't.
"Don't just stand there." The gruffness of his voice startles you more than it should.
Heat crawls up your neck, a part of you more embarrassed than you should be. You weren't lurking, or at the very least, you weren't trying to.
You sigh as you abandon the safety of the tree line. "Sorry." He turns his head away from the fire. "I wasn't--I was just walking."
He's quiet for such a long moment you almost expect him to not respond at all. "Without your shadow?"
Wow, only a halfhearted dig at Wade. You must have caught him in a good mood. "Friend, and he's looking at the car. I'd be looking at the car with him, but I figured the odds for tomorrow are bad enough as is."
Another uneasy stretch of silence. "Yeah." There's not much, if anything, to take from the comment. "If you're here to convince me to go with you guys tomorrow--"
"I'm not." It's an honest answer. You had been walking around aimlessly and happened to stumble onto him. "I'm not into the pep talk thing." He scoffs, the sound lacking in genuine aggression. "What?"
He lifts his gaze from the fire, his eyes settling on some point past the horizon. "I thought you were an Avenger."
You're not sure what bugs you more, the fact that he's so sure he has you all figured out or the implication that the Avengers spend their days encouraging each other instead of actually doing things. What the Avengers are--or maybe were--is so much more than that.
You step forward, further separating you from the cluster of trees. "The Avengers are about a lot more than that."
His attention briefly shifts onto you before returning to the flames. If the silence is meant to be dismissive, it doesn't feel that way. There's a patience there that doesn't suit his usual brooding.
"Do you care if I sit?" The question is forced out before you can overthink it. "I promise no inspirational speeches or small talk."
After a beat, he dips his chin downwards in a nod so subtle you would have missed it if you had been watching him any less carefully. You're more relieved by his acceptance than you should be, your feet carrying you towards the campfire.
You sit at a polite distance, knees bent in front of you. His silence seems to push against the void's sluggishness. Maybe the issue has been you fighting this world's momentum.
"Why are you with him?" You're not sure if you're more shocked by the question or the break in silence. When all you can do is blink, he continues, "You seem--" He subtly clears his throat, as if struggling to admit this next part, "Nice, normal."
Oh. If you had been focused, you likely would have got what he meant without the clarification. "I know Wade's a lot--especially to you." You place a hand against your knee, thinking about that very specific safety you only feel with Wade. You don't have to try at being anything, or worry about earning your keep in any capacity. "But once you get to know him, he's a good friend."
You look away from the fire pit in time to see the skeptical look Logan throws in your direction. "I'm serious." His expression doesn't change. "He um--after I stopped being important to everyone else, he still liked me ." This isn't the conversation you wanted to stumble onto, especially not with someone who you barely know and actively dislikes you. "That sounds kind of dumb, but the point is, he's loyal."
He turns his head back towards the fire. "You always call him by his name." The observation is so stiff you'd consider it hesitant if it came from anyone else.
You've never thought much about Wade's name. Part of it is familiarity, and the rest of it is a force of habit. Even when you were with the Avengers, you preferred using actual names when off duty. It's easier to separate the mask from the person beneath it when you make an active effort to.
You shrug. "I'm not into off duty superhero names, Wolverine."
He falls silent again. You concentrate on the flames, the way they illuminate the world around you. "You can--" He cuts himself off, attention never wavering from the fire. "You can call me Logan, if you want."
An unsteady warmth roots itself in your chest. You didn't expect any sort of kinship between you and the wolverine Wade stole from some other timeline beyond him occasionally accepting your attempts at creating peace between him and Wade.
"Okay," you focus on keeping your tone measured, avoiding any emotions that might startle him, "Logan."
There's no tension in the quiet that follows. You let the minutes pass until you're certain that Wade's waiting for an interruption disguised as an attempt to help. "I should go, Wade's probably waiting for me."
You push yourself to stand. You let yourself glance at him one last time before turning towards the trees you emerged from.
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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago
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For your halloween special, can i have all dressed chips, with a espresso Martini by max verstappen plssss
halloween menu - bakery menu
spooky scary post-halloween submission! thank you so much for the request. it has been fun to write this one, so i hope that you love it. i know that the spooky season is over, but we can probably have a little more halloween magic until christmas, haha!
all-dressed chips: "i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." + espresso martini: dom!character served by max verstappen (formula one)
tags: smut/pwp, dom & mad!max, driver!reader, established relationship, car sex (sort of), fingering/clit teasing & oral sex (reader receives)
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"you can't laugh at this." you said as you zipped up the driver's suit to your neck. you looked in the mirror before you shushed your teammate. you turned in the mirror a little, "oh he's gonna freak when he sees this."
daniel laughed into his fist and you shushed your teammate before you turned to him and away from the mirror. the driving suit was so much baggier than yours. especially in the shoulders and thighs. you knew that if the team found out about this, they would lose it.
they were very particular with where the drive suit of the great max verstappen was at all times. and currently it was on your body as you and your teammate rushed to his car before you ended up at a halloween party in austin.
to be a couple on two separate teams often led to a flurry of discussions and rumors. you had about four pregnancy rumors happen oven the course of the season. that didn't mention the three cheating rumors (that was your cousin that photo) or the five secret wedding rumors. you hated those ones the most because they always made it seem like your wedding choices were tacky.
but tonight, you were thankful there were no press members lurking around the house that was rented out by the mclaren team for the austin weekend. and since it was close enough to halloween, that meant the drivers and others could have a party. and while it wasn't a dress up party, you took it upon yourself to have the best costume.
your teammate, daniel, was dressed a cowboy. you even remarked, 'you might give me a run for my money tonight." as you looked in the mirror to see if your lip gloss was ended up above your lip. he laughed and the two of you got out of the parking lot before the gate to the track was closed.
-
at the house, you spotted max waiting outside with his arms crossed and leaned up against the gate. when he saw you get out of the car, he was instantly over to you. it wasn't until he got closer that he noticed that you were wearing his driver suit.
he laughed, "you look so amazing." he scooped you up in his arms and looked at you with a smile, "very authentic."
you giggled, "it's a red bull original."
max looked at you, "i..is that my suit?"
you nodded, "yeah, well worn today and everything." you felt max hold onto you a little tighter and you got your hands into the front of his t-shirt. you looked at him, "i wanted to be the best dressed."
he swallowed then laughed, "well, i think it's a mission accomplished." he could feel the swirl in his gut.
daniel piped up after he locked the car doors, "what about me, max?" he laughed, "i think i kill it tonight too, mate." then winked at his former teammate.
max laughed, "why did i have a feeling that you were going as a cowboy tonight?" then ushered you into the house against his worst judgement. the back of his mind was calling for him to stuck you in the backseat and make the car rock.
so much was covered, but to know that you were in max's gear turned him on. so the entire night his gaze was on you, his hand on your lower back and when he could, his lips on yours. a night of partying ended with max driving you back to your hotel room.
"show me what's under it? got my fireproofs on too?" he asked. his hand was on the zipper and trying to get it down while you drove him. you helped him and he caught a glimpse of your bra underneath.
"i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." he laughed, "and not when there's a risk i'll crash the car." he did however snake his hand between your legs, "fuck, you're so warm."
you moaned as he managed to get under your panties and rub against your clit. the sensation made you jolt and he laughed.
"aw c'mon, my love. you're always so calm on the track? what's the problem now? can't handle a little fun?" it didn't help that the speed he was driving left after shocks through your body.
you were both on quiet back end roads in texas. no one around for a good while, so of course max could rev the engine a little bit while he stimulated your clit. the strength of a formula one driver was concentration and the ability to calculate many things at once.
for example max's rough thumb was against your clit, moving in motions that were making you a total mess in the car. his eyes were on the road and he was going over the speed limit so he could almost stimulate your achy sex. all while not crashing the car.
they could give him the wdc for that feat alone.
your heart was racing in your ears and your pussy soaked through your cotton panties. max knew if he smelled his suit the next morning, it was going to reek like your achy cunt. and he wouldn't mind racing like that.
"shit, max. ah." you groaned and you shifted your hips to get a better feeling of his rough fingers. you swallowed back a particularly loud moan to escape from your lips. you prayed, hoped that no one would find out about this. you didn't need that on the front pages.
"you sound so pretty when you're needy." he purred, "i love how you sound. i feel like i should spank you for stealing my suit, but stealing it is quite the feat i have to say. mmmm, pretty thing."
his words sent shocked through you as you felt the blush bloom in your cheeks with an erotic want. there was something about max verstappen that drove you insane.
eventually he pulled his fingers away from your soaked sex and licked the bit of wetness off his thumb and knuckle. he groaned a little before he pulled into a nearby closed gas station parking lot.
"get in the backseat." he said before he watched you scramble to the back and he followed after. he almost hit his head against the top of the sports car he was driving. you chest was heavy in the low light of the parking lot.
max tugged at the suit, almost ripping the zipper to get access to your soaked cunt. he pushed the crotch of the cotton panties to get access to your sex. you could feel everything tight as he was pulled, but max's tongue on your aching cunt made it all better.
his pace was messy with two of his fingers pushed inside of you for added pleasure. he was a messy eater when he ate you out and you weren't too sure how much time you'd have before someone drove by. the car rocked a little as he pleasured you.
"fuck, ah, max." you didn't know this would've given him such a response. but, you loved it. you loved how his tongue felt against your achy cunt. you had been thinking about him during the party because he was in your space so much.
he groaned against your pussy, your wetness was up to his nose and almost at his cheeks. he went all in when it came to oral sex, that was why it made it so easy for you to climax because of him.
you moaned a little louder and held onto his hair for a moment as you felt the climax wash over you. the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you hot all over. you felt the fire in your gut as he made you feel on cloud nine.
"oh my god." you panted heavily as he smirked against your soaked pussy before he looked up at you. you could see the glisten of your wetness across his face.
"i'm not done with you yet. let's see how durable this suit really is." he chuckled as you heard the unzip of his jeans.
-
being in red bull's head office the morning after a party was never a good thing. it was a situation most tried to avoid being. but as you sat with daniel and max across from horner and mekies wasn't a way to start the morning.
"can we at least get coffee." you groaned.
"no." horner replied.
apparently max's racing suit went missing last night. only to be found in your hotel room this morning. daniel was in the office for abetting in the theft. you wanted to die when christian showed the three of you the pictures of the stains on the suit. daniel hid his mouth behind his hand, to not make a very funny (yet very mean comment). you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and prayed for a moment that you'd go blind.
"this will result in a fine and community service." which made the three of you groan. the media was going to have a field day with this one <3
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boyfhee · 10 months ago
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심재윤 、STRAWBERRY LIPS
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featuring ⋆ tutor!jake, sort of classmates to lovers
warnings ⋆ pet names ( 0.5k )
note ⋆ i was studying and suddenly came up with this idea and it instantly reminded me of em so here's to her @goldenhypen
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you’ve been staring at jake for a while now, instead of focusing on studying. the soft glow of sunlight on his face with that dainty golden chain around his neck makes him look a bit too attractive, you can hear your heart thumping in your ears.
“what’s wrong, pretty?” there it comes. he leans a bit closer to take a look at the question you’re supposed to be solving. “you’re supposed to use the formula of the equation of trajectory for that one, angel.”
the trajectory of your life is about to change. 
because you don’t know what you’re doing. you should be studying but your eyes refuse to leave his sight, specifically fixed on his lips as he pops his lollipop back in, the warm summer winds entering your room through the windows and brushing across his face, ruffling his brown locks that glow like honey under the sun. 
summer is here.
however, you don’t know if it’s the season to be blamed as your cheeks heat up when he glances at you, or if it’s the man himself. 
“still stuck on that question, pretty?” he asks, the lollipop is still in his mouth, resting against the corner of his lips, you can taste the strawberry flavour on your tongue just by looking at him.
“uh, i’m trying—”
you offer a quiet and flustered response with a shaky breath, and jake couldn’t help but chuckle, cutting you off mid sentence, speaking in the softest, dreamiest voice. “it’s okay, i’ll tell you how to do it, sweetheart,”
you have no excuse for blatantly staring at his lips, but you couldn’t help it and stare in the same direction again as he takes the lollipop out of his mouth. every time he calls you by one of those pet names, you feel a flutter in your chest. when his shoulders brush against you as he leans closer, you suddenly get more conscious about everything around.
he’s explaining the solution and you’re busy looking at his lips again. the way they move when he speaks, the subtle smile as he writes the solution, you’re sure they taste like your favourite strawberry lollipop that he was eating earlier. his voice is reduced to nothing, your heart is beating faster and faster and when he finally looks up at you with only a few inches between you two— it feels like your heart has stopped. 
“are you even listening to me?”
you quickly avert your eyes from his lips, focusing on anything but him. you can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, hands fisting together on your lap out of embarrassment. it won’t be a surprise if your heart pops out of your chest. “y-yeah,”
when you don’t hear a response, you turn your eyes back to him, and he sighs, putting the pen down. you wonder if you’ve finally annoyed him, but jake pulls your chair towards him. it doesn’t down upon you how close you both are until you feel his breath on your lips.
“i might not be able to hold myself back,” he whispers, thumb brushing over your bottom lip ever so tenderly, sending shivers down your spine. “if you keep staring at my lips like that,”
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just-some-random-blogger · 3 months ago
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Tormented Spirit | 2
Part 1 2 3
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, smut (piv, loss of virginity, fingering, semi-public sex, Daemon talking you through it), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation/murder, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: i am surprised I got as many comments as I did on chapter 1 🥺🫶 it's not that I think my writing is bad... Well... Idk it felt aimless when I started so I am grateful for the positive reinforcement. 👉👈 I am once again asking for more pls comment n reblog I would love u forever if u did | cross posted on ao3
Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat
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Daemon heads to your chambers, eager to shake you awake and ruin your morning once more. When he arrives to the room, he stops in his tracks, disappointed to see you were risen. That is, until he realizes the state you were in.
You roused long before the sun had and could not find sleep no matter how badly you searched. You decided to draw yourself a warm bath in hopes of finding sleep in the tub; you only find more restlessness and simply accept your fate.
You hear Daemon's entrance and turn to him from the vanity you were wallowing. You were half dressed. Your corset was undone and you had given up on braiding the sides of your head. You smile weakly at him, "good morrow."
Nothing about your tired, sullen eyes agreed with that, and it irritates him to know that you're one of those people. Pretenders.
"Well, finish up then," Daemon furrows his brows, "get dressed. We have yet to accomplish our task."
You mimic his expression, brushing your dark hair back, "task?"
He rolls his eyes, "I do not believe yesterday counts as an introduction."
Upon realizing he meant the introduction to Caraxes, your body tenses. You look sick. You stand to try and convince him out of it, but Daemon reaches you before you can get on your feet. He places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Your heart thunders when he brushes your hair to one shoulder. He secures your dress from behind, and your breath grows heavy as you watch him from the mirror.
"It is not so bad, riding a dragon," the prince says to plant a false sense of trust in you, "who knows? You might enjoy it."
There is an unnatural warmth that spills across your form when your husband then completes your braids. He weaves in a manner far gentler than Gwayne ever has. It makes your lips part.
He brings you to your feet. Daemon takes in your expression, lips curling slightly, "there you are, wife."
Your brows knit.
He knew his artificial gentleness has you off-guard. There is no better moment to have you do his bidding than now.
One might be surprised to know that Caraxes actually enjoyed having you on his back, as did Daemon, not because they suddenly liked you— gods no, but because the sound of your screams were oh-so satisfying.
You could do little else but release cries of terror as you clung to your husband from behind. Daemon made it a point to do flips and all sorts of unnecessarily moves whilst flying, hoping your hold would falter. The time you spent in the air felt like eternity. It seemed your husband was set on touring the entire 7 realms.
You never thought you would be so ever happy to see the pit. The pit could not say the same about you however. You spill your guts out to the floor exactly like the first time you were here.
Daemon makes a face. He turns to the keepers and orders them to clean your mess up, lest it get on Caraxes' claw.
Woe is you who is forced to repeat the exact thing the next morning. You could not even plead your case, for your throat was sore. The sound of your screams this time were not as entertaining to Daemon, as your voice is hoarse. At some point, the terror is too great, you cannot scream. Because of this, he cuts the flight short in boredom, excited instead at the promise of watching you suffer through another retch. But, oh, by the gods, were you an inconveniencing woman.
Instead of remaining consistent, you just had to make a show and faint into him, did you?
He could not care less for you, which is why he chucks you off into the arms of a dragon keeper, but the damned old man could no longer carry such a weight, and so he was begrudgingly forced to throw you over his shoulder and bring you to a maester himself.
In truth, he'd all forgotten about his wife fainting until the next morning, when he came to the maester's quarters to ask for something to soothe his hammering head from his heavy drinking the night before. He was, in fact, offended, when the maester insinuated that he had come to check up on his bride.
Before he could give the greying maester a piece of his mind, he hears a terrible voice barking from the ward. Its grating timbre made it clear to Daemon that Lord Hand Cunttower was off on a yapping session again.
He walks deeper into the room. Weeping sounds become audible.
"—no, you do not understand," Otto snaps, hunched over at the side of your bed.
Ah, twas you who was being terrorized.
You dare not turn to your father, for you knew your throat would only tighten more that it already has. You force yourself to take deep breaths, but it's easier said than done. You remain still on the bed you laid on.
"You must sire as many children as your body can take, or you will die," the man says.
But you were dying anyway.
"The process will not be pleasant."
Nothing is pleasant.
"It will hurt-"
Everything hurts.
"-but it is a better fate than-"
"Enough!" you snap, glaring at him with angry, red eyes. You repeat, though your voice is weaker, "enough, enough, eno-"
Otto gravely speaks your name. Your body recognized the danger, but having realized upon waking up to the face of a maester, it mattered little where or who it came from, you were destined to hurt- to die.
"Do not fall complacent be-"
"You are no longer my lord," you quip. Sweat forms on your nape. This is the first time you've ever interrupted your father.
He is gobsmacked. He is bewildered. His back straightens, "what?"
You feel yourself descend into heavy fraught. Your saliva tries to choke you.
"What," he presses, "did you say, girl?"
"You are my father," your voice falters, "but not my lord."
Otto's face warps.
Your breath grows shorter and shorter, "my liege lord is my-" pant "-husband, and what he-" pant "-desires, I will-" pant "-do."
Daemon's ears and brows perk at your misplaced loyalty. Part of him wants to laugh out loud and make himself known, but then he sees, even from where he stood, how it got Otto twisted. He chuckles to himself instead.
Your father enunciates as though he means to stab you with them, "you stupid fucking whore."
You crumble like chalk. You fall into another round of body arresting tremors. Your chest is tight and you screw your eyes painfully shut. It becomes apparent to Daemon, as it would anyone who'd witness, where your condition sourced. Otto grabs your shoulders, "you know nothing of-" but then recoils.
Daemon shoves him away, glaring as he says, "unhand her."
Otto manages to balance himself, but he looks as though the veins on his temples were about to pop. He clenches his jaw, "I am speaking to my daughter."
"You mean at her," his silver hair slips over his shoulder as he turns to you, "she does not look like she can hold conversation."
"This is personal matter," Otto steps forward.
"Mmm," Daemon turns back to him, "I do say, I am glad to have interrupted," he shifts on his leg, linking his fingers together, "a dutiful husband should know all personal matters of his wife. Don't you agree?"
Though you were still wrestling with yourself, you heard every word. You knew if you did not interject, they will fight each other for your carcass. You feel lightheaded, but you force yourself to open your eyes and speak.
Of course, the only sound you manage to make is a strangled and pained one.
Otto averts his attention to you, and tries to come to your side.
Daemon steps in front of him and tilts his head back, "oh... I would adore it if you give me a reason to kill you."
You choke out, "Daemon."
Your father stiffens as he looks past the said man to inspect you, missing the way the said man smirks. Otto turns back to Daemon, feeling bile spread in his mouth as the prince says, "see. She does not want you."
Otto's lips curl and his hands ball into fists.
Your husband waves a hand, "go away. You're clearly upsetting her."
Otto does the most to remain calm, "she is my da-"
"She is my wife," Daemon snaps, imposing upon him.
You gulp with difficulty as you catch the way your father's jaw clenches. You force yourself to sit up and open your mouth to speak, but everyone's attention is averted to the Kingsguard that walks into the room.
Daemon's forehead curls at the Cargyll knight, "my prince. Lord Hand."
"Which one are you?" asks the prince.
"Arryk, my prince."
"State your business, Arryk."
"I-"
"I requested a ward for the princess," Lord Hand answers instead.
Daemon makes a face at him and chuckles dryly under his breath.
Arryk looks between the two again then slowly continues, "I and my brother have been awarded the honor of serving ward to the Princess of Dragonstone. I take first watch today."
Daemon chuckles again, "a bit late, aren't you?"
The white cloak stiffens then bows, "I was just given word this hour."
"Hmm. Well, Arryk," he motions, "why don't you go escort the Lord Hand out of the room before someone dies."
He stiffens again, but turns to the said man nonetheless. He does not question it and merely does what was instructed.
Or at least tries to.
"I do not trust you with my daughter's well-being," Otto steps forward, pointing a finger to the ground, "you are the very reason she is in that bed."
Daemon gasps dramatically. At this point, you finally had enough wits about you to speak, "please-" but your voice is easily drowned out however.
"Do you not remember thanking my brother for the, what was it," the prince pretends to think, "joyous union? Or would you like to watch me stake my claim upon he—"
Otto's face twists in horror and repulsion, but that is not why Daemon's words are cut short. It is because of the cold, clammy, trembling hand that takes his own that he looks down. He watches as you sigh out, "leave us, father."
The said man turns to you in grave offence. In your fear, you do not notice the betrayal that is mixed with it. His anger flares and he scoffs. He gives you one last look, and you knew exactly it was just that. This would be last time he would ever look upon you. When he storms away, you feel it in your chest: this is the last time you will ever call him father. You were forsaken, truly forsaken.
Otto is seen out by Arryk.
Your hand slips from Daemon's, as you no longer had the strength. You muster all your remaining energy to reach the drink propped on your bedside table. It was a futile attempt though, as instead of grasping it, you knock it over, which only leads you into another fit of tears.
Daemon curses and shakes his foot that's gotten soaked. He did mean to snap at you for it, but you were already clearly suffering. Your breathing is short and it seemed like you were mumbling something.
He hunches over in an attempt to hear you, "what?"
It takes a myriad of repetitions for him to realize you were apologizing.
His face contorts, "gods," what pathetic creature had he been given to?
Daemon's upper lip curls and he can no longer bear the sound of your whining any further. He calls for the maester, asking for another cup of water because you had knocked over your own. Just as the maester goes off to get you another drink, he remembers he came here for his own affliction because his head begins to hammer again. He rubs his temples and sits on the vacant bed besides yours.
"Here, my prince," the maester says upon arrival, "milk of the poppy enough for the both of you."
Daemon squints as the man places a tray on your bedside table. Daemon is handed a cup first, but does not drink it until after he watches you be helped to drink your own fill. After, the maester promptly leaves with a curt nod. The drink does not take effect on you until after Daemon finishes his own
Your voice shakes, "t-thank you."
Daemon puts his cup down.
"You did not have to come," you say softly.
"Do not flatter yourself," he scoffs, "I did not come for you. I came for my headache."
"Yet it remains," you turn to him, face tight and gleaming from all the tears you've shed, "you did not have to come."
He stares at you for a moment. You looked so frail, so devoid of hope. Truly, death would be mercy to you at this point.
Just then, ser Arryk returns. He finally sees you and gives you a deep bow, "princess."
Being addressed as such makes you feel sad... and lonely.
"I am ser Arryk Cargyll. I will be your ward, along with my twin brother, Erryk, who you will meet after my shift." The kingsguard straightens up, "I will do all that I can to ensure your health does not falter and that you are always seen to."
You think of your own twin as you take in the man's features. The idea that your father purposefully chose twin brothers as your ward made you feel sad and sick, but it was hardly Arryk's fault Otto liked mocking you, so you smile at him, "I have a twin."
The man nods, offering you a smile far more genuine than yours, "aye. Ser Gwayne Hightower. He is deft with the short sword."
You turn to your hands, recalling just a few days ago when you had watched him train. Your lips curl upwards, "though, not as good as I."
Daemon pulls his head back, face contorting. He is taken aback when Arryk's sniggers. The latter nods, "perhaps you will show me your tricks, my lady."
There is a twinkle in your eye as you turn back to him, "perhaps."
Daemon raises a brow at the interaction and decides to stand, "come," he reaches a hand to you, "some fresh air would do you good."
Fresh air? Your jaw slacks and you turn to Daemon with a fallen expression. Be as it was, you were no fool. You did not believe your husband had your best interest in mind, and yet, it was not like you had much of a choice. Against yourself, you to take his hand.
He pulls you up and Arryk comes to your side to assist you. He helps you to your feet, hand on your arm and shoulder.
Daemon is annoyed by his fussing. "Yes. Very good, Cargyll. I can manage to bring her to the dragon pit myself."
You close your eyes and sigh. Just as you dreaded.
"Dragon pit?" Arryk repeats.
"Yes. She needs fresh air." The prince narrows his eyes, "do you contest me?"
Arryk releases you and shakes his head, "I would not."
"Good," he motions with nod, "out of the way then."
You see, after being scorched by the fire of your maker— your father, the sight of Caraxes emerging from the depths did not strike as much fear into you as it did before. In fact, the promise of malice from the beast felt... cathartic, and for once, you welcomed Daemon's insistence on being brought to its maw.
You stumbled against Caraxes' scaly cheek. Having done nothing but lay in the maester's chambers, your hair was not tied or braided in any way. As the wind blew, it tickled against the dragon's face. Caraxes did not seem to enjoy the sensation, and so he growled and snapped his teeth.
Daemon was quick to chastise his mount, and for that, he did not realize your lack of self-preservation. Oh, but Caraxes did; he even growled again, only to be met once more by your unflinching demeanor.
Daemon would only realize your change after taking flight and landing on a beach. Upon dismounting, Caraxes takes it upon himself to screech as you hover. The prince doesn't know who is more bewildered, him or his dragon, when you screech back.
Your neck veins pop and spit comes out of your mouth at the intensity of it all. A harsh wind blows your hair and your skirt. You heave after releasing such a harsh noise.
In truth, perhaps Caraxes is more perturbed as, unlike Daemon's who presses forward, the beast pulls back and shakes his head. He bleats as he watches his rider grab your arm.
The prince means to berate you for your insanity, but then, gods, you rather conveniently succumb to another arrest to your heart and lungs. He does not know why he catches you when your legs give in but he knows exactly why he suggests: "get in the water."
You look up at him, your glassy eyes meeting his violet ones.
He lets you crumble to the ground and bends down to undo your dress, "a swim would do you wonders."
"N-no- you will regret-" you sputter.
But Daemon ignores you, not that it took much effort, for you were incoherent soon enough.
He pulls you out of your dress until you're in nothing but your slip. You sob, and he hushes you, assuring he will be by your side. He removes his tunic. Soon, he is dragging you down deeper and deeper, and you are choking and spitting saltwater.
Daemon decides to simply release you and wait until your body floats lifeless. With how you were gasping, it would not take long. He turns his head when his face is splashed by your flailing arms. When he looks back, the water is calm and your body is nowhere to be seen.
... well, that was rather quick.
He waits for a moment, watching bubbles float up. After a while, he purses his lips and decides to go back ashore. He should have done this sooner.
He freezes when you emerge in front of him, pushing your brown hair off your face. He is perturbed by the serenity across your features; it was as though you were reborn.
You sigh, "I told you you would regret it."
Daemon blankly stares at you.
"There is a great river in Oldtown," you wade around, "the water there is not nearly as pleasant or warm as this, but still... swimming was one of the only ways I could calm myself."
His jaw clenches. He does not even try to hide his disappointment.
You lick your lips at it and turn to Caraxes, who was happily soaking in the sun from the sandy shore, "take heart. Your dragon might entertain himself by eating me yet," you turn to him, "or perhaps my Lord Hand will kill me himself."
His face twists, "what?"
You shake your head and roll your eyes.
He pulls his head back, offended and confused by your sudden nerve.
You allow your body to float up in the water, "you need not pretend. I know you long to kill me."
Daemon is insulted by your brashness. He grabs your floating hip and pushes you down until you're once again face to face. Not a semblance of fear is on your features. It only angers him further.
He snaps, "I could have your tongue for that."
He cannot deny the way his stomach rolls when you place your hands by the base of his neck. The complete change in your temperament puts him on edge. Have you been playing him all along?
"Would it not be simpler to have my head?" you speak plainly, as though you were genuinely curious of his response.
His nostrils flare.
Before he can act, you are swimming off. You emerge from the water, dripping wet. Your clothing is sheer and hugs every part of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could not help but look, but then he was sorely insulted all over when you pet Caraxes head and he lets you.
It was a twisted hallucination. He is suddenly reminded of the milk of the poppy he'd drank; you've probably poisoned him and planned all of this with your cunt father like the conniving whore you really were.
You do not hear him emerge, but only know he did because he is upon you. He forces you around through a severe squeeze on your arms, "what is your game, Hightower cunt?!"
Your body seizes, but you do not succumb to the thundering of your heart, as you had just been relaxed.
He shakes you, making you gasp, "SPEAK!"
"There is no game!" you whimper.
He chuckles dryly, shaking you harshly once more "perhaps it should be said that I need no assistance from my dragon to kill you."
A shiver runs down your spine, "please-"
"Then tell me th-"
"-just do it."
The sound of Caraxes huffing brings Daemon back to reality. And yet it takes you speaking, "just kill me," for him to realize you meant exactly what he thought.
He stills where you descend into further torment. He knows then that it is true. There was no plot, or at least not one where this creature of agony could ever oversee. You were calmed by the water, but not cured. Very truly, he thinks again death would be mercy, convenient for him as well. Yet, in his nature, Daemon does opposite of what he is told and pries his hands off. He mutters under his breath, "ao mūdas run," you terrible thing.
You sob, as if you understood him.
You shed tears unlike the others he's witnessed; there is no panic or fear, only pain.
"Surely you agree it is better than living this way."
The clarity of your voice takes him aback. He turns away, uncomfortable of your sudden agency.
"I have been this way since I can remember," you confess, "and they've all have counted my days for just as long."
"Why must I bloody my hands for you?" he squints, "if you despise living so much, do it yourself."
Your laugh is haunting. You shake your head and wipe your face, "I am not as brave as you. I could not even kill the fishes Gwayne caught for me, though I ate them."
Daemon is unmoved, twice so at the mention of your brother.
"And Gwayne..." you sigh, "he would blame himself." You turn to your feet, warmed by the sand beneath it, "I would not do that to him." You shake your head again, "but again, take heart," you smile, "it will happen soon enough."
His forehead curls.
"I can feel it in my gut," you rub your belly, "it is putrid and festering... whatever it is."
He tilts his head, "then do me a favor and wallow in silence—" he walks off, sparing one last glance, "and try scheming with your cunt father somewhere you will not be caught."
You manically laugh and rip at your hair, "he is my illness, if it is not plain to you."
He stops and turns back to you.
"I am the way that I am because I-" you poke your chest, "am he, had he been born a woman." You rub your sternum, "he loathes me because he is I. I am his hair, his nose, his temper, his... weakness, only amplified because I did not inherit his cock.
"When I pray..." you sniffle, "sometimes I think the gods keep me alive for I am his reckoning— that I must torment him for all the years he has tormented others... tormented me."
Daemon watches the salt from your eyes join the salt on your slip. He stares at your pert nipples then watches you chew your lower lip. He licks his own, "did you mean what you told him?"
You watch as he inches closer, "what?"
"That he is no longer your liege lord," he reaches for your arm, "that I am."
"I-"
Daemon pushes the shoulder of your slip dress down.
Your hand darts to his chest, "i-it is the truth."
He hums and tilts his head. You gasp when he kisses your neck. He licks the saltwater off your skin, enjoying the sound you make when his teeth graze you, "very well then."
Goosebumps form when he pulls your skirt up your thighs.
"It would be beneath a prince to withhold aid for such a tormented spirit."
You do not speak for soon his mouth is claiming yours. It is not as horrid as you imagined it would be. You did not think someone who's shown nothing but aggression could behold you so tenderly. You shiver when he continues to rid you of your sopping clothes. When you break away for air, you manage to mutter, "someone c-could see."
Daemon's expression is changed as stares at you and pushes you to the ground. You gasp as you find yourself atop the garbs he already managed to remove. He undoes his breeches, "who? My dragon?"
You do not know if he means Caraxes.
"You are my wife," he drops to his knees, grabbing yours, "the sin lies with the looker," he pushes your legs apart, "not us."
You bite your lips, feeling the the need to repel him, but decide against it. You simply close your eyes and dig your fingers into the sand.
His loins burn at the sound of your sigh. He sinks into you and relishes your submission. He wraps your legs around him and rocks his hips into yours. You mewl and dig into his back. He bites your lobe before whispering, "you belong to me."
You scratch your nails up his back as his rocking hips send bolts of pleasure in your body.
"Say it."
"I-I-" you heave, "belong to you."
He squeezes your thighs, "you are to do what I so desire."
You gasp softly when he grabs your jaw, making you turn to him.
"-especially if it is against your father, yes?"
You gulp, unable to speak. You simply nod.
Daemon's eyes become hooded. He releases your jaw, claiming your thigh again, "good."
You both remain this way, kissing and rubbing, but then you begin to grow impatient. You bring your mouth to his to catch his attention but do not kiss him. He is taken aback by your unintentional tease and digs his fingers into your flesh. This is why you whimper as you speak, "you- can... enter."
He is broken from his trance, "what?"
"I," you scratch his skin gently, as if to encourage him, "know you are ready. You do not have to hold back. I am accustomed to pain."
He knits his brows, then tilts his head, "how could a virgin know such things?"
He watches bashfulness claim you. You shake your head, "I read it."
"Did your book not tell you it need not be painful?"
"I-" you let out a loud noise when you feel his fingers touch your womanhood, "Daemon-"
He purrs at the sound of his name, "I will show you how good it can feel so that you can tell your father all about it."
The horrifying thought does not even register as he makes you feel things you did not know possible. You begin to shiver and whine, but it is entirely opposite to what your body is accustomed to. Your breath begins to shorten and you instinctively begin to panic, but Daemon's voice keeps you grounded.
"Breathe," he licks your pulse, "it feels good, does it not? Breathe and think of how good I'm making you feel."
You are entirely subservient to him, to his baritone, to his fingers, to his hips. There is nothing but sand and Daemon. You whine when you feel a hard intrusion. The sensation is foreign, and it causes your belly to tense.
He kisses the line that forms between your brows, "relax, my wife. Now is not the time for pain," he hooks his hands behind your knees, "it's a time for pleasure."
It's all a blurry haze after this. Daemon moves into you in a way that makes you wonder how this could ever hurt. Every thrust sends ripples of bliss down your spine. Every hit draws out the lewdest of sounds from your throat. You understand then why they call it love making; you love every moment of it. Your bliss is heightened when he touches something inside you, and again, and again-
For once in your life, as your breath grows heavy, you do not feel like you're about to die.
Daemon alternates tempos, but ultimately resigns to fast and hard. He does not cease until your rigid body goes limp beneath him. The pressure in your stomach breaks into a million burning pieces, and just as it becomes all too much, he pulls out, propping himself up on one arm. You gasp at the heat thats spills on your thigh as he strokes himself. Soon, his arm gives out and he collapses beside you.
You behold the mess of red and white between your legs, but find no shame, only arousal, which you did not expect. You turn to your husband, watching his chest heave, his temples sweat, and his tongue lick his lips.
He's... he's beautiful.
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