#the ENTIRE time i giffed this last night all i could think of is how miles told me i would wanna climb this man like a tree

[burningembers91]

Looking Up - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Outside Looking In

In the Bleak Midwinter

Without You

Synopsis: Desperate to start afresh and build a life for the both of you, Nam-Gyu searches for a new job. But, with no qualification and no experience, will anyone take a chance on him?

A/N: I saw this gif and it instantly made me think of his itchy interview suit i’d pictured 🥹

Nam-Gyu’s suit was itchy, the fabric pinching at his skin as he sat in the waiting area. His tie was too tight, the uncomfortable compression around his neck making him squirm in his seat. He wasn’t sure why he’d let his brother talk him into borrowing his old suit; it was poorly fitting and the beige colour did nothing for him.

But Nam-Gyu had been desperate, and had nowhere else to turn. You’d been living together for two months now, both of you searching for different jobs that would hopefully lead to better prospects and more money. You’d manage to find a job in a florist, and although it paid almost as poorly as the hostess job, you were so happy. It was what you’d always wanted to do, and your boss was incredible.

Nam-Gyu had decided to take his father’s advice and find a proper job, something in insurance or finance. He’d always been so scared of having a “normal” job, so terrified of becoming another nobody. But he didn’t feel like that anymore; not with you. You made him feel like he could do anything, and for the first time in his life he was happy to blend peacefully into the background. He had you, and you were all he needed.

He’d been looking for jobs for weeks but had been turned down at every corner. He had no real experience, and had never stepped foot inside an office before. This junior finance assistant job was quite probably his last chance, otherwise he’d have to go searching for a job as a waiter. He wanted a job that could support you, that could relieve some of the financial stress you were both under. He’d been awake most of the night thinking about this interview, and as he sat waiting his palms were sweating.

His parents hadn’t spoken to him since the night they kicked him out. Nam-Gyu was hoping that if he got this job he could show his father how hard he’d been working, that he’d finally decided to grow up. He really wanted them to meet you as well, to meet the girl he’d fallen head over heels for. His brothers had met you, and while they would never admit it to Nam-Gyu, they thought you were perfect for him. You grounded their little brother, kept him stable but at the same time made him happier than they had ever seen him. He was an entirely different person around you, no longer cocky and brash, but sweet and gentle. You two were made for each other.

“Park Nam-Gyu?”

His head snapped up at his name to see a woman in a sharp suit eyeing him through a doorway.

“We’re ready for you now.”

Heading into the interview room, he tried to swallow his nerves, wiping his sweaty hands on his itchy suit. A group of two men and one woman sat opposite him, their faces stony as he sat down. His throat suddenly felt impossibly dry, his lungs no longer seemed to work. He couldn’t take a full breath, and he was desperate for a glass of water.

“Tell us a bit about yourself,” one of the men said. “Do you have any experience in finance or accounting?”

“Uh… well…” Nam-Gyu knew the interview was over before it had even begun. He had no experience of anything other than standing out in the cold handing out leaflets that nobody wanted. He’d been rejected for every job he’d applied for, and he knew this one wouldn’t be any different. So what did he have to lose?

“No, not as such.” He admitted. “I was a club promoter for many years. I spent most of my time trying to attract customers to different venues around Seoul.”

“And were you successful?” The woman asked, her razor sharp eyebrow raised high.

“For the most part,” he lied. He wasn’t going to make himself look like a complete idiot.

“So why the change of career?” She asked him.

“Well,” he smiled as he pictured you. “I fell in love. I didn’t think I ever would but I’ve met someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, and that means I need a job; a real job.”

He couldn’t tell how the rest of the interview went. He wasn’t able to answer any accounting related questions, but they asked him lots of questions about his life in general.

He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as he made his way home, eager to shed the uncomfortable suit.

“How did it go?” You squealed, as soon he came through the front door. You’d been a bag of nerves all day, checking your phone every two minutes in case he’d texted you.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, hastily removing his suit jacket and pants. “I was honest and told them I didn’t have experience.”

You could sense his frustration, and you wished there was something you could do to help him. He’d been working so hard the last few months, studying accountancy books he picked up at the library, staying up until the early hours of the morning apply for jobs. You wished someone would take a chance on him, to see the hard worker he was.

The two of you spent the rest of the day on the sofa with the TV playing a show neither of you could concentrate on. Nam-Gyu kept checking his phone, refreshing his email every five minutes to see if anything had come through. With each passing minute, his hope waned. No one was going to take a chance on him; not that he blamed them. There was a cafe down the road that was looking for part time workers. He’d head there tomorrow and fill out an application.

It was late when his phone rang, the two of you half asleep in front of the TV. Nam-Gyu shot up at the sound, noticing a number on the screen he wasn’t familiar with.

“Oh my god! It could be them!” You cried, “answer it! Answer it!”

You clapped your hand over your mouth to stay silent, the nervous excitement almost bursting out of you.

“Hello?” He answered the phone, his voice shaking.

“Park Nam-Gyu, this is Kim Ha-Ri from the interview today. I’m just calling because we’d like to offer you the job.”

Nam-Gyu couldn’t speak for a few moments. He’d been so sure he hadn’t got it, was so sure he’d been passed over that he didn’t know what to say.

“Mr Park? Can you hear me?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered, shooting you a quick thumbs up, his face beaming. “That’s incredible, thank you much.”

“Can you start tomorrow? 8am?”

“Absolutely! Thank you so much, I’ll see you then.”

The call ended and he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, finally things were starting to come together.

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled, pulling him close to you. “You just watch. It’s only up from here, I promise.”

Nam-Gyu was determined to make this new job a turning point. He was going to make good money, find a new place for you both to live that wasn’t cramped and damp, save up enough that he could take you on holiday. He wanted to show his parents that he had changed, that he was capable of becoming a son they could be proud of.

For the first time in months, you both slept soundly, the prospect of a new life so close you could almost touch it.

[miwtual]

EWAN MITCHELL as AEMOND TARGARYEN HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022—) 2x08, “The Queen Who Never Was”

[wlwxreader]

Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker. 

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“You…” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackie—”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’s—” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.

[slut4thebroken]

Reminisce

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | Your boyfriend of almost nine months finally reveals something to you.

Warnings | Consensual to NON CON, smut, forced breeding, baby trapping, scars, praise, forced orgasm, crying, blackmail?, past rape, lots of talk about rape, like a lot.

Words | 1.4 k

Notes | Pretend I posted this a week before Halloween like it says in the fic lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 19: forced orgasm

Also idk this gif just reminded me of this part “he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, just barely smirking at the state he had you in.”

“Good girl… Take my fucking cock.” He gruffed, wrapping a hand around your neck, fucking you even harder. You cried out and clung to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. He was leaning over your body with your legs on his shoulders basically pushed flat against your chest, unable to do anything other than take it. 

“Jackson..” You whined. Each hard thrust was punching little breaths and grunts out of you and he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, just barely smirking at the state he had you in. 

“God— This reminds me so much of our first date.” He groaned, confusing you. Your first date was at a restaurant and he only kissed you after walking you to your door… You didn’t know what he was talking about and his cock ramming into you was making it really hard to think about it. He chuckled quietly when he saw your furrowed brows. 

“You don’t remember? It was right here in this bed, you were dressed up as a cute little fairy for Halloween and I was wearing a mask…” He trailed off, waiting for you to finally figure it out. Your stomach dropped as you recalled what was probably the worst night of your entire life. “You looked so pretty crying and begging for me like that, I knew I had to make you mine.” He said with a small smile, sounding almost endeared. 

You stared up at him in shock and horror as the small scar below your collarbone started aching at the memory. There’s no way that your boyfriend of almost nine months was the one who broke into your apartment and raped you last Halloween. 

“W-what?” You said through a breath, voice barely audible. His smirk widened as he took in the terror on your face. 

“I was thinking of waiting until Halloween, but I just couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled. “Plus it’s only a week away, and I figured you might shut down on the actual day.” 

All you could do was stare at him, a huge wave of emotions crashing down on you. When the angle of his thrusts shifted a little and he hit that one spot inside of you, you suddenly remembered that he was still fucking you and you started pushing him away. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” Any malice in your tone was completely overshadowed by fear. In response, he just grinned and squeezed your neck even harder until you gasped for air. 

“You were so tight that day… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for almost a year.” He groaned, then his eyes flitted down to your chest. “And that scar… Every time I see it I remember how pretty you looked, crying and begging under me as you took my cock like a good little girl— just like you’re doing now.” 

“Get off!” You yelled, the tears in your eyes beginning to fall as you thrashed under him. He shushed you and just grabbed your wrists to pin them above your head with one hand while the other moved to trace over the scar. 

“You know… The first time you got all choked up when I asked about it, I had to go to the bathroom and jerk off.” He chuckled quietly, looking between your face and the scar with an almost fond expression.

“Stop!” You screamed, becoming hysterical. “Jackson, please.” When you broke out into a sob, he cursed under his breath and moaned loudly, his thrusts becoming more frantic. 

“God- you were crying just like this…” He groaned, dragging his gaze all over your tear streaked face. “Only last time you weren’t about to come on my cock.” He said smugly. 

You shook your head almost violently, but you could feel your orgasm still approaching, despite what you just learned. 

“And, between you and me… based on how hysterical you were last year, I was worried you wouldn’t be interested in a relationship at all— let alone sex…” He said teasingly, but his voice was becoming breathless as he neared his own release. “But you surprised me.” He chuckled quietly. You could barely focus on his words with how hard you were crying, feeling completely frozen underneath him. “You were so desperate for it too. I guess that’s normal though… Something about reclaiming control over your body and what not.”

“Jackson, please stop.” You sobbed brokenly, but he wasn’t deterred at all.

“Stop? But you were just moaning like a little whore for me two minutes ago.” He said coyly. 

“I hate you!” You suddenly screamed, making him laugh again. 

“No. You hate yourself because you’re about to cream all over your rapist’s cock.” The hand not holding your wrists down moved to rub your clit and your crying intensified. 

“Stop!” You shrieked, thrashing under him uselessly. 

“Beg harder, baby… I’m close.” He moaned as his thrusts sped up. The smirk on his face that used to make you blush, made you sick to your stomach this time. 

You were mumbling incoherent protests and pleas and he let his head drop down as he moaned loudly. His fingers never faltered on your clit and you could feel your unwanted orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“No… No— please.” You sobbed weakly, making him look at you again. 

“Do it, slut. Come on my fucking cock while I rape you again.”

You were crying almost violently now, tears streaming down your cheeks as you practically started hyperventilating. “Please..” You whimpered, squirming under him weakly. The coil of arousal in your belly wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending you over the edge. “No,” you sobbed and Jackson groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock. 

“Oh, good girl…” He cooed, making you cry harder. “That's it… Cream all over my dick, baby.” His usually smug tone that used to fill your stomach with butterflies, now just made you nauseous. 

“Stop! Please stop, Jackson…” You sobbed brokenly, unable to hold back your moans and whimpers as his fingers continued rubbing firm circles on your clit. 

His lips parted in a silent moan and his eyes closed as his head fell forward, landing on your chest. With one final grunt, he bottomed out, his cockhead pressing against your cervix uncomfortably. You whined through quiet sobs, all while Jackson moaned… savoring every last bit of your suffering.

“Fuck..” He said through a breathy laugh once his orgasm finally faded. He leaned up, taking in the sight of your glossy eyes and quivering lip, then grabbed your cheeks to hold you still, letting him kiss you. No matter how hard you tried to turn away, he was stronger. He only released you once he was completely satisfied. “Mm… good girl.” He murmured, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You were completely frozen under him, only able to let out hiccuping sobs. 

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, his voice overly sweet. “But you’re not gonna leave me.” You stared at him, trying to keep a brave face, but you knew he could see your fear. “Raped twice? You’re damaged goods, sweetheart. No respectable man is gonna want you now.” You let out a choked sob and closed your eyes, hearing him coo again. 

“Plus…” when his voice turned a little serious, your blood ran cold in anticipation, “you’re gonna need me to stick around for our kid.” 

Your lips parted and you stared at him with both confusion and fear as you trembled. “What?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Lucky me, finding a girl who’s selfish enough to make sex feel less good— all because of the ‘hormones’ and side effects of birth control.” He sneered, his voice cold but with a cruel, almost playful lilt. Then he casually added, “You should be pregnant by now. I’ve been poking holes in all the condoms for almost two weeks.”

“Jackson…” You sobbed brokenly, not even knowing how to react. 

“I know, honey, but I’ll take good care of you.” He pet your hair gently, then wiped away the tears on your face. “Your boss should be getting something in the mail soon. After he fires you, you’ll finally be able to live up to your full potential. You can move in with me and only have to worry about taking care of the house and our kids, and servicing my cock. Doesn’t that sound nice?” All you could do was cry and shake your head. 

“You’re gonna love it.” He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I promise.”

[mrs-weasley-reid]

INVITATION LETTER

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader ↳ part 1 here

Sypnosis: The team finally finds out about your relationship with Aaron Hotchner. WARNING: nothing, all fluff! A/N: not my gif, ctto!

"WHAT?!"

You and Aaron looked at each other in his office at the sound of Emily's voice echoing in the entire floor.

"You think they got it?" You asked in an innocent tone as a growing mischievous smile lifted up the ends of your lips.

A knock brought both your attention to the door.

Aaron looked back at you. He was biting back a smile, "I think they did."

You chuckled and walked to the door. You gave Aaron one last glimpse before swinging the door open, spilling the entire BAU team inside his office.

Penelope was first at the door, losing her balance from an equivalent weight of four agents on her back. She waved a card as she stepped inside the office, looking back and forth between you and Aaron. "This! What? When?" She took a deep breath, "What is this?!"

You calmly went closer to Penelope and gently grabbed the card, "Let me take a look." You pretended to read the contents as if you hadn't printed them out yourself. "Looks like an invitation to me," You handed the paper back to Penelope.

"Yeah?" Emily butter in, shoving Spencer aside. "An engagement party invitation—"

"Your engagement party invitation," Penelope concluded, pointing at the two of you.

JJ, being the most level-headed person in the group, stepped in, "I guess what everyone is trying to ask is... What? When? Where? How? And how long?" She smiled sweetly, but you could sense her impatience.

"You will answer us now, and you will answer us now!" Penelope threatened in an ever-energetic bounce of avidity.

You chuckled as you stood next to Aaron's desk, "You just said the same thing, Pen." You exchanged looks with Aaron.

"That's not the point. Why didn't you tell us?" Emily crossed her arms like a toddler.

David peeked into the office, holding his copy of the invitation card. "Ahh, I see you told the children." He joined the commotion inside, closing the door as if it'd change anything.

Emily scoffed, pointing at David, "But he knew?! That's so unfair! I thought we were friends." Her face was in utter disbelief.

Derek spoke from the back, "I'm not going to lie, but I kind of feel betrayed." He sighed, now also crossing his arms. "I expected it from Hotch, but not from you." He looked at you disappointingly.

"It's not like we purposely kept it a secret," Aaron leaned against the back of his seat. "We were always off on the same day. Thought you all would've caught up by now."

"You said you have movie nights with your son every Friday. Are you telling us that's a lie?" JJ worriedly looked at Aaron as if he had done a horrible crime using his child to get out of work and go on a date with you.

Spencer hummed, looking at you, "I specifically remember you saying you spend time with family every Friday. You asked me about superheroes because one of the kids in the family loves superheroes... Were you both talking about Jack this whole time?" He questioned, tilting his head in wonderment.

You and Aaron nodded at the same time. The team even got a glimpse of Aaron's small smile. He cherished the days he spent with you and Jack.

Penelope groaned, "You lied to the three of us." She stood between JJ and Emily, pointing at themselves. "We asked if something was going on with you and Hotch, and you denied it! You lie oh so well."

Emily nodded in agreement, "Yeah, that hurts a little bit. I didn't see this coming." She placed a hand on her chest, displaying disdain.

"Relax, guys, I'm sure they have a good reason why they didn't bother announcing it to everyone." JJ turned to the two of you with an annoyed smile, "Right?"

"Honestly, we just thought you'd figure it out yourselves." You shrugged, gesturing towards David. "I mean, Rossi knew."

"Uh, duh! Pasta man always knows everything." Penelope remarked.

"Hold on, please. Let's not bring me into this. You're mad at your parents. Don't blame grandpa." David reminded everyone, sniggering to himself as he saw you and Aaron glare at him.

Derek placed a hand over Penelope's shoulder, "You still haven't answered our questions." He emphasized the last word. "Is this real? Are you guys really getting married?"

You glanced at Aaron and were about to speak when he beat you to it, "We've been together for almost three years and engaged for a month." Aaron didn't mean to talk over you. He just felt like it was something he really wanted to announce himself. He was as excited as you were but just a tiny bit casual about it.

"A MONTH?!" Penelope's eyes were wide. You worried that a sudden move might cause it to pop out of her sockets. "We missed Hotch on his one knee?! Oh, my golly gracious! Pictures? What about pictures?"

Now that she mentioned it, a small part of you felt regretful that you and Aaron weren't great at capturing memories together. You just were always in the moment and forgot to stop one second to leave a picture behind.

Penelope shook her head as if she could read your mind. "You don't have pictures of your engagement?!" She freaked out, fanning herself.

David raised a finger, fishing his phone in his pocket. "Ah! I think I have some." He began tapping on the screen.

Emily scanned them and gave David a blank expression, "No offense, Rossi, but you suck at taking pictures. Sergio can take better pictures."

Another round of noises filled Aaron's office. He reckoned it had never been that crowded in that room before. The two of you watched as your small family of agents childishly reacted to your secret relationship. They responded just as you both predicted: a complete madhouse.

Aaron stood from his seat, walking around his desk to wrap you in his jacket. He did it more upfront, glancing at you with a smile as he laid the lapels of his coat flat on your shoulders. He fixed the collar, leaning against your ear, "Let me borrow this for a second, sweetheart." He whispered.

You only knitted your brows as you tried to make sense of what Aaron meant. Your hand reflexively felt the base of your neck as soon as you saw your engagement ring glistened in Aaron's hand. It may have caused you a mini heart attack when you felt nothing, but you quickly realized that Aaron meant to borrow it for everyone to see.

Everyone's mouth shut as soon as they noticed their unit chief on one knee, lifting your ring, just like the first he did.

JJ clasped her mouth with both her hands. Penelope had her phone in a flash. Emily was smacking Spencer's shoulder, to his dismay.

"You're my solace. The one person that I found myself vulnerable and yet the safest. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, so I hope that you'll allow me to spend it with you." Aaron spoke your name with such softness and love. "Will you let me marry you?"

A huge smile was plastered on your face. Granted, Aaron had said the same words a month ago. You were wearing a better dress, one of his jackets around your shoulder, per usual. His suit was more for leisure and not his everyday office attire. The venue was more privy and gave both of you such intimacy you couldn't help but cry.

But despite the crowded room and unromantic setting, the effect was still the same.

You felt the rim of your eyes heat up, nodding vigorously as if you hadn't been engaged for the past month. "Yes!"

Aaron placed the ring on your finger for the second time and grabbed you into a quick, soft kiss. The joy he felt coursed through his body. He couldn't help but have you in his arms.

The team cheered, clapping their hands in excitement. Some raised their hands to express their happiness.

"She said yes!" Emily jumped out with joy. She had one of her arms wrapped around Penelope's.

Penelope was satisfied; even if it wasn't the proposal in her mind, she was happy to be a part of such an amazing event in the whole team's entire lives.

"Now, can you all go back and do your jobs?" Aaron spoke firmly, jolting everyone into place.

You lightly smacked his chest as you laughed. You turned to the others and smiled, "He's kidding."

"I'm not," Aaron shook his head.

"He is," You clarified, giving him a playful glare.

Spencer was the one to break your banter, "So, like... do we call you mom, now?" The entire team looked at him as if he was asking the obvious. "What? I was just making sure."

"Come here," Emily hooked her arm around Spencer's neck, dragging him out of the office. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll set him straight." She kidded, leading the line of agents out of the office.

[lazycats-stuff]

How about Batfam x male reader, where reader is Russian and has a slight accent, unless someone really pissed him off, that's when it really shows. Reader is always eloquent and kind, and you don't notice his accent unless you are really paying attention to the way he says certain words, but after a few galas where a fat businessman keeps insulting him somehow, and Damian or Jason are trying to defend Reader, but Reader just tells them no. When the fat businessman insults his brothers, Reader finally snaps and just goes full blown Michael Blackson Teacher style roast on him and his entire family in front of everyone, even his Russian accent comes out (I just think it would be funnier with the accent). After the gala is done, Bruce tries to scold the reader, but everyone is constantly trying to contain their laughter except Jason, as Reader finally snapping is the funniest thing that ever happened at a gala. Even Alfred can't bring himself to scold Reader for what he has done because he was there.

I know you are probably busy, so whenever you have the time for this one-shot. Thank you.

Oh hell yeah. Also, I couldn't find a GIF. I'm sorry...

Summary: (Y/N) is Russian and takes no disrespect.

Warnings: fat shaming? Only when (Y/N) was insulted.

Bruce would say that all of his children are nice, but (Y/N) is an exception to a certain degree. He is nice, eloquent, kind and loves to help others. He's Russian, can speak Russian fluently and his accent is rather hidden. You can hear it come out in certain words, but other than that, it is rather hidden. And Bruce loves to listen to it. Especially when he is frustrated about something, or simply can't remember a word in English.

That's when the Russian actually comes out. Of course everyone will revert to their native language when frustrated, mad and everything else. It was something that was rather endearing. Cute even. Just some grumbling underneath his breath about something in Russian. (Y/N)'s brothers found it cute. And they started to pick up a few phrases of their own.

But not curse words, because Alfred doesn't want to hear any cursing in the manor. None. Not in English, Russian, Arabic or any other language. It doesn't matter if it's a dead language or a live one, because Alfred is going to lay down the law.

Even now, while there was a gala going on in the Manor, Bruce watched his sons carefully. Jason was evading it with everything in him, Tim was getting some food, Damian was his usual grouchy self, Dick was conversing with some people and so was (Y/N), using his eloquence to get his points across. Bruce smiled as he brought a glass up to his lips, sipping some champagne.

All was well.

For once.

Bruce was surprised, but wasn't going to complain or actually question why the universe has decided to bring peace upon the Wayne Manor. Peace was seemingly a rare thing in this Manor and Bruce was going to cherish it for the rest of the night. Actually, for as long as it lasts, Bruce will cherish it.

Oh, that peace wasn't going to last long.

At all.

As (Y/N) was talking to a woman about some charities, a big, fat businessman approached. Sure, it's not nice to call someone fat, but, if someone's stomach is spilling over the pants, then it's just a fair game. Bruce watched from afar, just observing the room.

He raised his brow when he saw (Y/N) frowning, clearly mad about something. Bruce could make out a few words and one of them struck a nerve. Commie, or short for communist. (Y/N) never liked that. Never. Just because Russia was a communist country, that doesn't make him bad. And how the hell is that an insult?

(Y/N) shot right back, calling him a capitalist for not caring about his workers, which were the more prevalent rumors in the high society. Bruce watched, wondering how it will unfold. But then it hit him. This was the man that (Y/N) had problems with for the last few galas. (Y/N) always remained polite, but Bruce knew that it would rile him up and upset him.

Damian and Jason noticed and both have jumped to his defense, defending him with polite and tense smiles. But the businessman wasn't letting up. At all. Being this relentless in insulting was rather... Weird. Bruce kept watching, ready to step in the moment it gets too tense or it escalates.

And (Y/N) had a rule. It was, insult him all you want, but insult his brothers? He will retaliate. Tenfold.

And that's where the fat man opened the door for him to retaliate. The moment that the man insulted Damian's Arabic heritage and Jason's life on the streets before adoption, (Y/N) was absolutely fuming and has decided to go onto the offensive.

He hurled insults onto the man, but one that made Bruce nearly lose his mind was, and he quotes this, " You are one sandwich away from a heart attack. " And (Y/N) wasn't done, far from done. Firstly, the Russian accent came out during all of this and he wasn't letting up. Since the family of the fat businessman joined, (Y/N) was not battling on two different fronts.

And he wasn't holding back.

At all.

Jason and Damian were trying to keep straight faces but it's not easy.

Bruce had no doubt that Jason would later say that the insults are a work of art.

The gala was now over and everyone was sitting in the kitchen, munching on the leftover food. Alfred was standing there, watching (Y/N), knowing what had went down in the ballroom. Bruce was supposed to scold him. Maybe ground him, perhaps. Take away certain things?

But then again, he was defending himself. The man insulted him first so... Well...

So Bruce was going to try to scold (Y/N). He has to. And that was difficult when everyone around them was trying not to laugh so hard. Even Alfred. Seeing (Y/N) snap, when he was normally kind and calm. And with a Russian accent too. It was all too much for Jason who was laughing his ass off the entire time whole Bruce was trying to scold the reader.

" You know what, I won't scold you, " Bruce declared, making Jason cry from laughter.

" (Y/N) snapping is the best thing that has ever happened at a gala. Ever. EVER, " Jason wheezed out, slapping his knee.

Alfred tried not to break, because he was supposed to be a serious one, but Alfred couldn't even hold it together. He was about to break. Should (Y/N) be scolded? Yes. However, he didn't start the insulting, the man did... Alfred tried to keep it together. He did.

And he was going to keep it together.

So, to conclude the evening, in the history of galas, (Y/N) has put his mark in it.

[intheorangebedroom]

I love how this gif jumped straight from WhatsApp to my inbox.

Explicit yes below the cut.

When you moved in with him, he plucked the Gladiator VHS out of one of your boxes and asked if you still had a VCR. You shrugged and said no, but you love that movie and that VHS has been with you forever and “have you seen Russell Crowe in his Roman uniform???” with an upward curl of your lips that had him raise an eyebrow.

Okay. Russell Crowe. As a Roman general. He knows only too well -and appreciates- your taste for veterans, but he had no idea it extends to the Roman legion.

First, he thought about finding an old VCR and surprise you with it. So you could play that tape and watch the movie together with What’s-his-face commanding his legion or whatever it is that put that spark in your eyes. Show you he’s not the jealous kind.

But then… well then he gets a far better idea.

He takes him a while to find it, and when he does, he has to drive all the way to the city to the rental place, then back home, where he hides the whole thing in an inconspicuous container under the workbench in his toolshed. Not too close to where he keeps the zip ties because then you’ll surely find it.

It's huge, and cumbersome. It comes with so many accessories, the shoes and the cape and a sword and the frigging golden laurel wreath in a wooden box…

Yovanna and Santi are throwing their annual Halloween party, which will provide him with the perfect occasion to wear it. As the day draws closer, and you keep asking him what he’ll go as, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain a poker face. “I don’t know what you got up your sleeve, Morales, but your Halloween costume better be scary.”

At long last, the 31st is here. He dashes in from work and goes straight to the toolshed. The whole attire is a nightmare to strap on by himself, but after 15 years of his life adjusting tac vests, he manages. 

When he steps into the bedroom, you’re zipping up a dark blue Michael Myers suit. You usually prefer to coordinate your costumes, only this year he decided to play solo, so you had to improvise on your own.

You turn around to the sound of his footsteps on the carpet just in time to watch him walk through the threshold, clad head to toe as a Roman general. 

And oh! he’s a mighty vision. His silhouette looks twice as massive. The chest armor, adorned with two winged chimeras, emphasizes his impossible breadth. His shoulders fill up the entire door frame. A white cape, embroidered with threads of gold, is flowing behind him, and on his plush lips, a devastatingly smug smile, and you forget how to breathe. Your ribcage caves in on a breathless gasp. Your eyes grow wide and your mouth falls open.

It's not... It's not the grime and crimson of battle. It's the white and gold of triumph. It’s as though all the light in the room emanates from him. Like he is made of it. Made of gold. And his hair, oh his hair, underneath that golden crown, curls in every direction, like that bust of Agrippa you once fell in love with in the Louvre.

He is magnificent.

And that son of a bitch knows it.

“You son of a bitch…” you whisper.

His grin stretches, revealing his dimple. And he fucking chuckles.

You briefly consider texting Yovanna to cancel. Bail out on your favourite evening of the year, but then you think different. You're going to go to that party and walk into their house with that man of pure golden light on your arm. Parade him all night. And then, you’re going to go home with him and ride him into next year.

When you get there, you are rewarded by the attendees' collective gasp upon his entrance. You’re probably hovering 10 centimeters above the floor with sheer pride. Yovanna shoots you a “good for you, girl!” look you have no trouble interpreting.

You spend the entire party watching him with a coveting gaze, hiding behind your mask. You might die, from want and anticipation and also dehydration with how hot and sweaty you get, with the size of his arms, and his naked legs on display, thick and solid and strong in just the right proportions. He looks so good it's obscene, and from across the room, he makes sure you're looking at him. That grin hasn't left his gorgeous face. You know he can see through your mask, through your thoughts, through your need.

On the drive home, both of you are silent. There's too much tension, it's crackling and sizzling like butter on a pan, and you zip your combination down to your waist to free the upper half of your body from the dense cotton material. With a side glance, you catch the working of his pebbled throat, confirming he’s registered how snugly your black tank top hugs your breasts. 

You are wet all over. Saliva pools into your mouth at the sight of his freckled skin, the rippling muscles of his exposed forearms and his thick fingers curled around the wheel.

You don’t even make it to the bedroom.

As soon as you get home, you step in front of him and brace both hands on his massive chest. The rigid armor feels so real, and you are reminded, once more, of the fabric of him. Of what his life has been. Of what he's done and seen. The battles he’s fought, the wounds he survived. And the way he chose love to redeem all his sins.

A warrior. A lover. Your man.

Quietly, you undress with trembling hands under his trained gaze. The dark pool of his eyes glimmers in the semi-darkness, in the feeble glow from the table lamp that catches at each and every golden detail of his uniform.

With a light touch, you back him up into the armchair. When he sits down in it, it looks like Caesar's throne. 

And then, you kneel before him, on the rough carpet, between his spread legs, hands splayed around his calves, skimming up to rest over his thighs. Feverish palms to feverish skin.

His tongue peeks slowly between his parted mouth to lick at his plush bottom lip, and you clench, sticky slick leaking down into your ruined underwear as you bunch the white toga in your fists and push it back.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice a quiet rasp.

“Yea,” he husks, bucking his hips forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his large hand a loose curl around your jaw as he guides your face closer to what has you begging.

Brushing your cheek against his thigh, you nuzzle the bulge of his boxer briefs, and the heady scent of his sex makes you dizzy. He’s hard when you pull him out, hard and warm and throbbing in the palm of your hand, and his heavy breathing fills your ears. Pursing your lips around the fat tip of him, you taste his want. The tangy flavour travels down to your core and you squirm wantonly at his feet, eyes fluttering shut at the heavy glide of his cock over your tongue. 

Carding his fingers through your hair, his hand wrapped on your nape, he draws you in gently, down to his base, inch by inch, and you focus on what he’s giving you, on the impossible size of him, eyes flickering open to lock onto his, as he watches you take him in. Your fingers burrow into the thick of his thighs, nails digging in, and he thumbs away a stray tear from the round of your cheek as you keep him there, pulsating hot and heavy inside your throat until you can’t breathe. 

When you pull away, heaving chest and teary eyes, with a thread of saliva bowing down from your mouth to his cock, he bends forward in a creak of leather, to grab at your waist and motion you up. You moan in complaint, please Frankie please, jolting at the cold touch of his golden cuff on your skin.

“Shhh, c’mere,” he husks.

You stand up ruefully but docilely between his legs, and you might be crying, looking down at him, because it rips through your chest, it tears your bleeding heart apart, the timeless beauty of him. The reassuring breadth of his solid frame, the fathomless depth of his dark eyes, the pensive crease in his brow. His perfect features framed underneath the wreath of laurel. The softness of his touch, the restraint on his strength, when he slides your panties down carefully.

You cup his face between your hands to make sure this man is real, scraping your nails through the scruff of his beard, thumbs resting over the bare patches of his sharp jaw. 

He runs a thick digit through your soaking folds and your whole body shivers, knees buckling, you’d crumple on the floor if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. 

“So? Do you like the costume?” he asks softly, teasing your entrance with his middle finger, and you laugh through your tears. 

His grin falls as he leans forward with a frown, rustling fabric and creaking leather, to press his forehead into your belly, chin pushing at the apex of your thighs, tongue darting to lick a broad stripe across your folds. His primal grunt vibrates along your spine and down your limbs, so fucking sweet, baby. 

The sharp edges of his golden crown bite into your palm when you thread your fingers through his curls. 

“C’mere,” he beckons, drawing you in, “come sit on it.”

His large hand skims down along your smooth skin and curls at the back of your leg, sitting you in a straddle over his lap. The armchair is large, but he’s larger yet, and even more so with the cape and the chest plate and the leather pteruge, and it’s a fumble to find a good position. 

He scoots forward over the seat but your knees knock uncomfortably into the armrest, and he huffs in frustration. You tilt up his face and realise you haven’t even kissed him yet, too caught up in his glorious beauty. 

“Francisco,” you breathe out, and he stills. 

You lower your mouth to his, tongue gliding over the soft cushion of his lips, and he opens up, kissing you back full and deep, your tongues entwined and swirling languidly. His hands find the plump of your cheeks, spreading you for him.

When he breaks the kiss, it's with a rushed grumble of “let me take this fucking thing off,” but you're already sinking down onto his length with a pained moan, furrowed brow and eyes clenched shut at the blinding stretch, fluttering walls and quivering chest.

You settle there, the coarse hair at his base grazing your swollen clit, his warm shuddering breath fanning your face. You feel him throb at the center of you, and you cling on to him, to his cape, forehead to forehead, the cool surface of his armor pressed to your peaked breasts.

“Keep it on, Frankie, please. I want to know what it feels like to fuck a god.”

—

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY, MY LOVE 🧡

[reiderwriter]

You'd Be Like Heaven To Touch♣️

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After a whirlwind weekend, you're finally ready to go home and deal with the mess you created in Vegas. But you just cannot get your new Husband out of your head.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, no mention of birth control, and you're going to hate me by the end of this sex scene bye

A/N: They're officially out of Vegas! I'm so excited to share the next few parts with you guys, and we finally got our first taste of smut!! Also, the Reid in the gif is the exact one I'm picturing in this scene so yeah 🤡 smirk and all 😏

Here's the series masterlist, and my general masterlist!~

Prev. Chapter // Next Chapter

The race back to the hotel was easy compared to the ensuing rush to pack up an entire hotel room's worth of mess in the time between their arrival and their check-out time. Sure, they’d had to pack light as travelling FBI agents, but with the added mess you’d created in Spencer’s room, and the additional luggage of their marriage licence, the packing was needlessly more frantic than usual. 

When you finally did make it down to the lobby, you froze up a little, realising that you were the final one to exit your room. You watched as seven pairs of eyes shifted to you as soon as the elevator door opened, hauling your go-bag further up your arm from where it was slipping down. You thanked your past self for having the foresight to put some makeup into the bag, having used up a copious amount of your concealer to cover up any evidence of your night with Reid. You still kept a small distance from the others, just in case.

“Sorry, were you all waiting for me?” you smiled at them as you got closer, hoping that they’d not ask questions at what had taken you so long. Your eyes caught Reid’s and you could see that he was looking down at your neck. 

After an entire day morning and night in your company, you knew he’d seen the results of his handiwork. You wondered if the look that raked over you now was that of the dominant Reid from the night before, who you presumed marked you in such prominent places so people would know you were his, or that of the concerned team mate, who didn’t want to be caught and questioned by the others. You tried to shake both images from your head, not sure which would please you more. 

“It’s okay, you’re not late, the cars are being bought around now and the jet leaves in 30,” Hotch greeted you when you finally got close enough. 

“Late night, mama?” Morgan laughed at you as soon as he turned to you. “How did all that drinking last night go for you?” 

You were so wrapped up in Reid and what he may or may not be thinking that you had to pull yourself back to reality for a second to realise that Morgan had been talking to you. 

“What? Oh yeah, I guess. I don’t think I drank too much, but I did sleep like a baby, so who knows.” You laughed a little to punctuate the point, and then watched Morgan’s reaction closely. You were still looking for the two “agents” who had been witness to your marriage, after all. 

“Ooh, you didn’t sample the local goods last night then? I’ve heard that Downtown Las Vegas is the best place to meet single men, and you were just complaining that you hadn’t been out in a while,” Penelope said from beside the man. 

“No, no, the place Reid took me to was more library than bar, and as far from Downtown as you could get, so it was a nice and easy night for me.” 

“And if the local men are anything like our resident Las Vegan,” Emily jumped in, looking at Reid. “Then I’m sure they’re not really what Y/N is looking for.” She laughed and they all start making their way out of the lobby. 

You try to avoid meeting Reid’s eyes after that last comment, sure that you wouldn’t be able to stop the grimace of apology from coming to your lips. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you forced your eyes up into a small peak at his face, only to see his downturned eyes and the small smirk that was crossing his lips. 

You hung back for a second, needing to clue this out, and nudged him with your elbow. 

“What’s that look for?” you whisper at him in a harsh tone, hoping that no one was watching the two of you. 

“It’s nothing.” He says, but the smile stays on his lips. You give him another look, silently communicating that you’re not taking that first answer and he nods a little as he walks beside you. 

“If they could see the marks on your neck, they wouldn’t be thinking that I’m not what you’re looking for, right?” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, and you playfully whacked him in the arm a bit, before pushing through the doors of the hotel and feeling the sun on your cheeks once again. 

You watched him climb into the car you took earlier and stop yourself from following him. You were going to need some time to think about how you should take that last comment, and a half an hour drive outside of his presence would probably do you good. Climbing up into the other SUV, you take a deep breath, feeling all the restlessness of the night before creep up on you.

–X–

You don’t know where you are, but you know that you’re burning up under his touch. His lips are on your skin, working their way down from your neck to the valley between your breasts and all you can hear is the sound of your own lustful moans as his hands trail further still. 

You don’t know who it is on top of you, but you know that you’re dying for him to be there, to push his tongue into your mouth and make you submit to his will. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and roughly pull them down, opening you up to him. You feel his lips ghost down further still, until he’s there between your legs. 

“Is this where you wanted me, baby? So desperate to have me, my little slut.” His words send another shiver down your spine as you roll your hips up into his face again. 

He lets out a small chuckle and gives you what you want, finally lowering his tongue again and letting it meet your desperate cunt. He sets his attention on your clit, and your eyes roll back in bliss, not caring who it is between your legs giving you this much pleasure, just desperate for them to keep going. 

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, fisting a handful of your mystery man’s hair. It’s soft to the touch, a little curly at the ends and it feels familiar, but you’re unable to think about it for more than a second before he’s pushing a finger into you. 

“That’s it baby. Look at you, so fucking tight around my finger. You want me to push my cock into you, you’re going to have to relax for me baby, okay?” You still don’t know who it is, but you nod for him, knowing you want nothing except everything he’s telling you that you want. 

He’s thrusting his fingers into you at a relentless pace now, adding one digit every few thrusts, until he’s up to three. His face is still buried in your pussy, tongue still flicking against your clit, his other hand pushing you down by the hips as he forces you closer and closer to the edge. 

His hand drops down to your thigh, pushing your legs further apart, and it stays there feeling overly warm, almost burning you up from just that simple touch. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, going to take my cock now?” You whimper and nod your head as fervently as you can, begging him with your eyes to push into you. He finally pulls his head up to your own, and you’re finally face-to-face with your mystery man. 

“So wet for me, right baby? So wet for your husband?” Spencer questions you as he pushes into your wet, dripping hole, and you’re so surprised that all you can do in response is moan. 

With each thrust, he drops a moan into your ears, and you feel your climax building quickly. 

“Ah fuck yes, Y/N,” you claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer. 

“Spencer, don’t stop, fuck.” Your name begins dropping from his lips like a prayer as his thrusts get sloppier, wetter, deeper. 

“Y/N… Y/N……… Y/N….” 

–X– 

“Y/N, are you finally awake? We’ve been calling your name for a minute now.” Your eyes snap open and you come face to face with Emily and JJ from the seats opposite you on the jet. 

“We thought you might be having a nightmare. Want to talk about it?” JJ asks, her voice in a hushed tone as a look of sympathy crosses over her face. 

Whatever that was, it certainly was not a nightmare. But the scenario you were in now certainly was. 

“What? Oh, yeah. I don’t know, maybe it was a nightmare.” You desperately hope you sound convincing enough for them to drop the subject. The last time you’d mentioned a lack of sleep, half of the team had approached you with different home remedies and tips for getting your full 8 hours. The last thing you needed right now was the constant reminder that you’d just had a sex dream about Spencer Reid on the jet whilst surrounded by all your close friends and colleagues. 

Including the man himself, you realised, as you stretched your neck out from its awkward sleep position, and caught the sight of him there next to you. Your car had reached the jet first earlier that day, and it had taken all of two minutes after boarding before you’d been claimed by sleep, so you hadn’t realised he’d positioned himself next to you. 

A quick glance down had told you he’d done more than that. Wrapped around your legs, and so big that it stretched over his too, was a large blanket, the one that he usually used on your longer trips home. He was asleep in the seat next to you, you noticed after an embarrassing amount of time, head resting in one of his hands, lips slightly open, looking the image of tranquillity. 

His other hand was beneath the blanket, somewhere you couldn’t see, but as you shifted slightly in your chair trying to get comfortable again, you realised it was definitely somewhere you could feel. His hand had somehow fallen into your lap, and he had a firm but sleepy grip on your left thigh, the one closest to him. Now that you had moved, so did his hand, rubbing gentle strokes into your skin every few minutes. Slow enough that you were sure he was still asleep, but still enough to have am effect.

His hand was hot against your leg, and his touch burned. You remembered the sensation from your dream and immediately did your best to temper your facial expressions, not wanting to gather any more concern from the two women opposite you at the table than you already had. 

“Y/N? If you want to talk about it, we’re always here you know? This job can be overwhelming at the best of times, and we just worked a hard case. No one would blame you for needing to take some time for yourself.” Emily looked at you in concern now, and it was taking all of your will to keep your eyes on her, and nod at the appropriate time, your brain short-circuiting now that you realised Reid was so close. 

Where did this sudden infatuation with him come from? You’d always appreciated that he was a good looking guy, but you’d never thought about him so thoroughly before, and certainly not enough to lose yourself on the jet to inappropriate thoughts. 

It was the insanity of the weekend, you told yourself, it had to be. You’d learnt more about him and accidentally, possibly, maybe slept together, and now your body was just getting it out of your system. Either that or you’d just learnt too much about his preferences and your brain was just trying to come to terms with each revelation. 

You settled back into comfortable conversation with Emily and JJ, trying your best to convince yourself that your dream had meant nothing, blocking out any noise in your head that was suggesting otherwise. 

Especially the little thought at the back of your brain that was reminding you that you hadn’t removed his hand from your thigh, and that you really didn’t want to. 

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[macabre-mangled]

More To Grab

Astarion x Curvy/Thick!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, blood sucking, mostly fluff, talk about body insecurities

A/N: this doesn’t take place in a specific time in the game but you can assume it’s after that confession scene

gif not mine ^^^

You could feel his eyes on you. There was something undetectable in them. It was hard to place but it almost seemed as though it was admiration. But that couldn’t be! He never said anything about his feelings about you. Surely you think you’re imagining it. It felt strange. His eyes not being blown with lust. But instead blown with something akin to affection. His scarlet eyes were focused, he hasn’t noticed that you know he’s looking at you. You follow his gaze to the love handles and extra pudge at your hips that is exposed by your father racey top. Ahhh. So it was lust. At least that’s what you thought.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm? Oh! Hello darling! Don’t mind me, just staring at your lovely and full body.”

You could see the blush decorating his cheeks but his confidence never faltered. However the lingering looks from the closed minded villagers dimmed your own. Their judge mental stares were enough for you to feel yourself shrinking. The other party members took notice quickly. Shadowheart enters your vision and whisks you away before you could dwell on it longer. You were all sat by the fire. On the outskirts of the village. You were listening to Wyll tell a story, well you were half listening. You were still thinking about the events of earlier today and it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain companion of yours. His saccharine eyes were filled with concern as he stared. He knows that you’re going to continue thinking about it all night. And he knows you shouldn’t.

“Come Darling, let’s have a little chat.”

Astarion whispers in your ear and placed a hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you towards his tent. He leans forward to look you in the eyes. His own filled with that same look that you couldn’t decipher. As you look closer you can see that he has some blood left on his lips and teeth. Presumably from his last meal. He quickly noticed your gaze on his mouth and chuckles. It’s deep and throaty. Sending shivers through your body. Warming you from the inside. His eyes glowing in the moonlight. Reminding you of a cat’s or perhaps an owlbear. It looks predatory to those who don’t know how to read his expressions. But to you it’s simply one of interest and curiosity. Before you can think any further you feel his hands squeeze your stomach. Softly kneading as if you were dough. His face lights up at the feeling and he pulls you closer. His hands wander and squeeze throughout your entire body. Hands kneading anything he can reach.

“When I said I love your body love, I meant it. You’re like a deity to me.”

“Really? But I’m-

He cuts you off before you can finish that sentence.

“Chubby? Yes I know darling. But there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact I adore it. I love feeling your body against mine and I especially love the way it looks when you’re naked.”

You scoff at his words but he continues nonetheless.

“And I love it because it’s you. I’d love you no matter what body you have. But I do adore your body. There’s more to grab. And to hold at night.”

You felt his arms tighten around you as he pulls you closer. His hands rubbing circles against your back. Humming softly. You’d probably have the same fear again but you knew he’d squash it.

[k4marina]

— vii. Eastwatch || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: the arrival of an old friend marks the beginning of a cold and eventful journey north

warnings: language, night king, game of thrones cannon events, spoilers to the episode Eastwatch, pretty tame chapter ngl

all dialogue in italics are in Valyrian

a/n: note with an update at the end pls read.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

8k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

Weeks had gone by since the attempted sacking on Highgarden and both Tyrion and the Unsullied had returned from Casterly Rock after successfully securing both regions of the west. The entire castle was bustling, Jon and his men mined and prepared the Dragonglass, forging it into weapons and to transport it to Winterfell for when the time was right. Daenerys was busy planning ahead for her battles against Cersei and now the Night King as well. 

During the last few weeks I’d been extra careful of whose eyes were on me, considering that there’s a high chance they’re one of Varys’ spies. The young girl, Alana, had periodically come back to do Varys’ dirty work while giving Dany and I information. Like I had suspected, the young girl's parents were killed by Stannis for refusing to take him as their Lord and as Robert for their King. 

Regardless, it was clear that Varys wasn’t to be trusted (which I already knew) and that he had eyes and ears everywhere, even on those closest to Daenerys.

I walked around the outside of the castle, taking in the fresh air while clearing my head. Who knew planning for a war that you already knew everything about was so hard. I paused, catching the dragons flying around in the sky. My gaze traveled downwards, spotting Daenerys, Jon, a Dothraki guard, and another man. 

Is it time? I carefully made my way to where they stood. He did show up to Dragonstone after the Sack of Highgarden. 

Daenerys and I briefly made eye contact as the man bent the knee to her. 

“Your Grace,” he slowly stood. Despite only seeing the back of his head and back, I could tell exactly who this was. His voice was deep, a light gravel to it. His hair, a mix of ginger, blonde, and gray. 

“Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend.” 

“I served with your father,” Jon said. “He was a great man.” 

Jon and Jorah nod, acknowledging both of their prowess. 

“And this,” Daenerys motions towards me. “Is Y/n Vellarys. She’s been a trusted advisor of mine and a very close friend.”

Jorah turns, spotting me. He doesn’t bother masking his confusion and shock, thinking that I’d be someone else. I watch him look over my hair, clothes, and the sword on my hip. It’s only when I subtly raise a brow does he snap out of it. 

“My Lady, it’s an honor to meet you.” He bows his head. 

“You look strong.” Says Daenerys. “You found a cure?” 

Jorah bows his head, bashfully at the small compliment. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. I return to your service, my queen. If you’ll have me.” 

“It would be my honor.” Daenerys smiles. 

My eyes roamed down his exposed arm, wrapped in bandages, but overall looking good. 

“It seems that Sam has done a fine job.” I commented.

“Sam?” Jon repeats, asking, my Sam?

“He was the one who healed Ser Jorah. Isn’t that right?” 

Jorah slowly nods. “How did you know that?” 

“I just do,” I shrug, nonchalantly. 

“Does that mean that Sam is still at the Citadel?” Jon asks.

“Yes.”

“No.” 

Jorah and I respond at the same time, the former looking at me confused again. 

“He was there when Ser Jorah left, but by now he’s left the Citadel.” I explained. “A raven from Winterfell has to have arrived by now, which means he’s preparing for his departure for Winterfell.” 

“Oh,” I caught myself before I forgot. “Speaking of ravens, one has arrived for you, Jon Snow.”

“Then we should converse further by the table then.” Daenerys steps forward, and everyone follows suit. 

I walked beside her to her left while Jorah was a little back and to my right while Jon was to the left of him, behind me. 

“You don’t seem surprised that he’s here.” Daenerys says, loud enough for me to hear. 

“Not at all. If anything I was waiting for his arrival.” 

“What do you know?” 

“After you sent him away he traveled to the Citadel. There, he was given the diagnosis that he’d only have a few months left, but he met Samwell Tarly who found a cure and saved him.” 

“Samwell Tarly? As in the son Randyl Tarly sent to the wall?”

I nod. “He and Jon are very close friends, brothers even. And, he was the first man to kill a White Walker at the Fist of the First Men.” 

“How do you think he’ll feel once he knows the truth?” 

“As any son would. But I’m sure if you are clear with what happened he won’t be as.. distraught.” 

––

Daenerys and I sat side by side while Varys sat further down. Tyrion and Jorah stood near Daenerys and Jon and Davos stood by the end of the table. Everyone watched as the King in the North read over the raven for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead.” Jon sighed, relieved. 

“I’m happy for you. You don’t look happy.” Daenerys points out. 

Jon shook his head. “Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make it past the wall-” 

“The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years.” Varys says as if he’s correct. “Presumably-” 

“They’ve never traveled down this far.” My eyes glanced down at the table where Eastwatch was marked. “And if the Night King can raise the dead for his army then a wall of ice made of magic is nothing.” 

Jon clenches his jaw, looking up at Daenerys. “I need to go home.”

Daenerys furrowed her brows. “You said you don’t have enough men.” 

“We’ll fight with the men we have.” Jon sighs. “Unless you’ll join us.”

“And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away she marches in.” She shook her head. 

“If it’s the West you worry about, we have men protecting it. You can call upon Dickon Tarly to defend Highgarden and Casterly Rock.” I say. 

“Cersei thinks the Army of the Dead is nothing but a story made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?” Tyrion suggests. 

Jon shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll come see the dead at my invitation.” 

Tyrion walks around the table, closer to Jon. “So bring the dead to her.” 

“I thought that was what we are trying to avoid.” Daenerys frowns. 

“We don’t have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier.” I nod. 

Davos turns to Jon. “Is that possible?” 

Jon thinks back. “The first White I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from Beyond the Wall.” 

“Bring one of these things down to King’s Landing and show her the truth.” Tyrion says. 

Varys shakes his head. “Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we step foot in the capital.” 

Tyrion purses his lips into a line. “The only person she listens to is Jamie. He may listen to me.” 

“And how would you get into King’s Landing?” Daenerys asks. 

The room falls silent and everyone looks to Ser Davos. “I can smuggle you in, but if the Goldcloaks were to recognize you, I’m warning you, I’m not a fighter.” 

Tyrion nods his head, understanding. 

“Well, it will all be for nothing if we don’t have one of these dead men.” I said. 

“Fair point. How do you propose to find one?” Varys asks Jon. 

Jon pauses and stares at the ground, but Jorah answers before him. He turns to Daenerys, “with the queen’s permission I’ll go north and take one.” Daenerys turns to him, surprised. Jorah continued. “You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you.”

Jon nodded. “The free folk will help us. They know the real north better than anyone.” 

“They won’t follow Ser Jorah.” Davos reminded Jon. 

“They won’t have to.” Jon replied. 

“You can’t lead a raid beyond the wall.” Davos shakes his head. “You’re not in the Night’s Watch anymore. You’re King in the North.” 

“I’m the only one here whose fought them. I’m the only one here who knows them.” Jon double downed. 

“I’ll go as well.” I nodded towards Jon. 

Daenerys shook her head. “I haven’t given permission to leave.” She gives Jon and I a pointed look. “To either of you.” 

Jon straightened his back. “With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a king. And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger because it's our best chance.”

Daenerys pauses, everyone looking her way. She looks down in thought for a moment before looking up at Jons pleading eyes, nodding. 

“Alright.”

––

“You’re insane.” 

Daenerys paces back and forth while I sit in my chair, watching. 

“No I’m not.” 

She stops, turning to glare at me. “You want to go North and fight an Army of the Dead. That is insanity.” 

“So does Jon and his men, does that mean he’s insane as well?” 

“That’s different.” 

“How?” I huffed. “It’s exactly the same.” 

“No it’s not.” She shakes her head. “This conversation is over. You are forbidden to go.” 

“Are you saying that as my queen or my sister?” 

She purses her lips, sighing out of her nose. “Why do you want to go so badly?”

“There’s something I’m looking for.” 

“In a vast tundra?” She raises a brow. 

“Yes.” I sighed, standing up and walking to her, grabbing her hands. “Trust me. I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think it was important. Besides, those boys won’t last long in the North without me.” 

She looks down at our hands, nodding. 

–––

I stood by the docks, watching as Tyrion stepped onto a small smuggler boat. Davos reached over to untie the mooring line. 

“Be careful, the both of you.” I remind them. “And Ser Davos,” he looks up at me, “don’t waste your time wandering around and go straight to the Street of Steel. He’ll be there.” 

He frowns, confused, but understands what I’m saying. “I will, My Lady.” 

He pushes the boat away and begins to row. I look up to see the sun getting closer to the horizon. By the time they reach the shores of King’s Landing it will be nightfall. I watched them go, before turning back and spotting Jon not too far away, giving orders to his men preparing for their departure for Eastwatch.

“All’s well?” 

Jon turned around. “We should be ready to leave by the time Tyrion and Davos return.” 

We fell silent andI could tell by the look on his face that he’s itching to say something to me.

“Out with it, Snow.” 

He looks down, debating, and then back up. “How do you know?” 

“Know what?”

“All of these things. When I first told Daenerys about the Army of the Dead everyone except for you looked shocked, as if you’d already known. You knew about Ser Jorah and Sam, as if you were there yourself.” He shakes his head. “How?”

“I can’t tell you how I know things, but know this; I won’t lie to or betray you and Daenerys. Just trust me and listen to what I have to say and all will be fine.”

He stares at me for a moment and then nods his head, accepting my answer for now but it was clear there was still more on his mind. 

“Keep your chin up, things are going to progress fast and we all need to be in shape.”

He nods, “thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. We’re all fighting a war against a common enemy.” 

“Yet Daenerys seems to be more concerned with Cersei.”

“She does care. If she didn’t you wouldn’t be standing here.” I said. “But you have to understand that all her life, all that she’s wanted is to come back home. And while Dragonstone is her family's home, so is King’s landing. She’s the last of her house and the people responsible for that are sitting on her family's throne. You can’t blame the girl for having her priorities in line.”

–––

Once Tyrion and Davos had returned Jon and I were ready for our departure. I stood by the steps, watching Davos and a young looking man speaking to one another. His hair was short, but jet black and he carried a hammer. 

“You can back out, if you want.” Daenerys came to stand beside me. 

“We both know that I can’t do that.” 

“Will you at least tell me what’s so important that you have to go?” 

“A sword.” 

“A sword?” She frowned. 

I nodded. “It’s really pretty, too.” 

Daenerys gives me a funny look, but doesn’t say much after that. We both descended down the steps and onto the beach. There were two landing boats on the beach, surrounded by two groups of men. A large sailboat was anchored in the water. Tyrion and Jorah talked among themselves as we approached them.

“We should be better at saying farewell by now.” Daenerys says. 

“Your Grace, I-” Jorah’s expression flatters. 

Daenerys reaches over and takes Jorah by his hands while Jon, Davos, and the black haired man come out of the cave and to us. Jorah bends the knee and kisses Daenerys’ hand as a goodbye. He stands and turns back to the boat, readying it. Davos and the young man both get into the boat. Jon turns to Daenerys, a soft look in both of their eyes. 

“If I don’t return at least you won’t have to deal with the King in the North anymore.” He joked. 

Daenerys smiled. “But I’ve grown used to him.”

He returns the smile. “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace.” 

They share one last look before Jon walks off to the head of the boat. Daenerys watches him, almost longingly and I try my best not to smile. I loudly cleared my throat, catching her attention. 

“Ahem!” She turns to me. “I wish you good fortune as well, Your Grace.” I teased. Daenerys’ face turns red and she looks away. 

“Enough,” she lightly swats her hand against my arm. “You be safe. Now, go and hurry back.”

I laughed, and nodded. I gave her a formal bow and turned back, making my way to the boat. I sat down next to Davos who left a seat for me. 

“Heave!” Jon commands. 

The men push the boat into the sea and step on, rowing to where the ship was anchored down. I looked back at Daenerys and Tyrion on the beach, giving them a small wave. A loud roar caught my eye. I glanced atop one of the castle turrets where Viserion stood. He lets out another cry before taking off into the sky. 

“He will be joining us?” Ser Davos asks. 

“Of course.” 

How else would we be leaving the North?

–––

The boat was filled with men to the point it smelt like them; dirty and musty. I stood on the upper deck, watching as Dragonstone got smaller and smaller. 

“Already feeling sea sick?” 

I looked to my left as Ser Davos approached me. I shake my head. “Not yet. I was just thinking.” 

“Mind sharing, My Lady? I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” 

“It’s weird.” I said. “Being away from Dragonstone for this long.” 

“Ah,” he nods. “First time being far away from home.” 

“It is. It’s fine, though, I’ll get over it. I saw that you got what you were looking for in King’s Landing.” 

He nods. “I did. Thank you, for the advice. But, if I may, how did you know?”

I smiled. “I just do. It’s funny, I said the same thing to Jon when you had left with Tyrion. I’m surprised you were able to hide Robert Baratheon's bastard so well.”

“We hid him in plain sight.” 

“And it worked in your favor. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you. I have to say, I thought that Cersei would have  found him by now. The boy was right there.” 

“She’s dumb.” I said, dismissively. “Did Jon and him already meet?” 

“They did. They were reminiscing over their fathers.” 

I hummed. “The honorable Ned Stark and the Usurper.” 

“I take it you’re not a fan.” 

“That’s putting it mildly.” I shook my head. Everyone praised Robert as if he was some hero, even in the future people still thought of him as some sort of  “alpha” and disregarded his actions after taking the throne.

“You won’t hold that against him, will you?” 

I frowned. “Who? Gendry?” I shook my head. “His fathers sins aren't his to suffer. And if we’ve learned anything about the children of questionable men, it’s that we shouldn’t judge them so quickly.” 

The sun dips below the horizon and the stars start to come alive.”It’s getting late. I’ll be in my cabin.” 

Davos bows his head as I turn back and walk below deck. It was my first time in a boat, let alone made of this time period. It creaked and moaned and I swore the further down I went I could hear the water. The hall, or rather walk way was narrow, big enough for two people to sideways cross each other. The doors to the other rooms were filled with men talking. 

At the far right was a closed door with the Stark sigil. I knocked once, hearing a muffled “come in.”

Jon stood by a large desk, papers thrown around. I closed the door behind me and stood across from him at the table. I looked down at the map he was glaring at. Circles were drawn on the map, all north of the wall. 

“Is this where they’ve been?” 

“Aye.” Jon sighs, crossing his arms. “They’re moving fast and we don’t have enough men-” 

“We do. We have a gaggle of them.” 

“But-”

“No but’s. We’re going to defeat the Army of the Dead and then we’re going to deal with Cersei and then Daenerys is going to ascend the throne and everyone will live happily ever after.”

Jon frowned. “How are you so sure? What if we lose? What if Cersei wins?” 

“Because I have to be sure. I have to believe that all will turn out fine. The more I think about the what if’s the easier it is for me to lose sight. And neither can you. We’re going beyond the wall, into White Walker territory and I need to make sure you’re fit to lead us. Are you?”

“I am.” 

“Good.” I smiled. “Besides, a certain dragon queen is waiting for your return.” I said in a lighter tone, teasing him. 

Jon visibly blushed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Uh-huh.” I say, not convinced. “Honestly, what are your thoughts on her?” 

I could see heat creep up his exposed neck. He clears his throat, “she’s beautiful.” 

“That she is.” 

“And charming. Ahem, and kind.” Jon smiles to himself. “She’s witty, and has a child-like wonder. She’s also brave, not just because of the dragons, but because of what she’s gone through. She’s resilient and a true leader, everyone holds her in such high regards not because of her birthright but because of her character and morals.” 

“If I knew any better I’d say that Jon Snow has grown to fancy our queen.” I laughed at his face turning red again. “That’s enough fun for now, I guess. I’ll leave you to do your duties.” 

Jon smilies, shaking his head as I take my leave. The hall is a lot quieter now, mostly because everyone was in the mess, eating their dinner before some settled into the night or prepared for night duty. A door in front on the left swung open and out stepped Gendry. He makes eye contact with me, but quickly looks away and rushes past me. He makes it a few steps before I stop him. 

“Stop.” 

His footsteps flatter. I turned around, his back to me. “You’re not going to greet me properly?”

I could see his shoulder tense, but he turned around, bowing his head, still not making eye contact. 

“Apologies M’lady. I mean no disrespect.” 

I hum. “What’s your name?”

“Clovis,” he responds quickly. I almost laugh at the name. 

“Clovis,” I repeat. “Clo-vis. You don’t look like a Clovis.” I stepped closer. “More like a Gendry.” 

His head snaps up, shocked. He looked as if he’d been caught with his pants down. “How?”

“Doesn't matter. I wanted to see you for myself.” My eyes roamed across my face. It was clear as day he was a Baratheon. The jet black hair and the clear blue eyes. How Cersei's goons didn’t find him was beyond me. “You sure are a Barathron. Just a little leaner, but I’m sure with a little work you’ll beef up.”

“I’ve got muscles.” He argued. 

“Are you sure?” 

He flexed his arm at his side to show me his muscles. They were there, but considering that Baratheon men were built like brick walls, it was nothing. 

“That?” I shook my head. “I’ve seen little girls with bigger biceps than that.” 

He glared at me, hot headed. “What do you know about muscles? You sit on Dragon all day.” 

“No I don’t actually, it’s very uncomfortable to do that. But I can show you mine, they’re very impressive. Even the Dothraki are impressed.” 

Gendry looked like he was about to blow a fuse and I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. Quickly, he caught on to what I was doing. 

“You’re messing with me.” He huffed. 

“Guilty.” I grinned. “I couldn’t help it.” 

He shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d be so.. friendly.” 

“Am I not supposed to be?” 

“Well, considering our alliances.” 

“To Jon?” 

“No. My father.” 

“You’re fathers actions aren’t yours, I have no reason to hold any hostility towards you. Anyhow, it’s late and we have a long journey ahead of us. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, M'lady.” 

I turned back and headed for my own room, pleased with the progress I’d made with the young Baratheon. Originally, in the future and after the whole Burning of Kings Landing, Gendry takes the Stormlands as its next Lord. He grows into a formidable man and becomes a fair and just man while bettering the lives of the people in his domain. 

If Daenerys takes the throne this time, he’d be a good person to have around as an ally. Not only do the Baratheons have a long history with the Targaryens, having them close would also show that we’d put a collar on the house that led a rebellion against the Targaryens. 

–––

Viserion screeches above head, fire erupting out of his mouth and raining onto the army of White Walkers, turning them into ash. The fire melts the frozen lake causing the charging Wights to fall and drown in the freezing lake water. Up on a hill, a White Walker calmly unsheathes a spear made of ice from his undead mount and hands it to the Night King who strides forward. 

The men on the snowy ground continued to fight off the undead as Viserion circled above, looking for a place to land and let everyone climb aboard him. The Night King approaches the edge of the hill, an unsettling calm to him and readies the spear in his undead hands, his eyes trailing Viserion. 

With a swift throw, the spear cuts through the air and pierces through the green and gold scaled dragon, a flame erupting where the spear hits him. A pained screech rips through the air and everyone goes to cover their ears. Blood pours out as the dragon falls to his death, crashing into the frozen lake. The ice shatters and the dragon sinks down to the bottom of the frozen lake, lifeless. 

Everything goes eerily silent and the Night King mounts his horse and trots down to the lake while the wights labored together, a few jumping into the lake with large metal chains. They work hard to wrap the chains around the dead dragon's neck. The rest of the White Walkers pulled the chains, slowly dragging the dragon up. The ice breaks as Viserion’s head is pulled up. The undead continue to pull until the lifeless dragon is completely out of the water and clear the way for the Night King. He approaches his corpse, his glowing blue eyes locked onto Viserion’s form. Wordlessly, he reaches forwards and touches the dragon's head and Viserion’s eyes snap open, icy blue as a White Walker.

My eyes snap open, my body covered in a cold sweat. My chests heaved, my lungs screaming for air. I could hear my heartbeat loud in my ears as I pulled the sheets back and out of bed. My throat felt dry and I staggered to the table in the middle of the room, pouring myself a glass of water, downing it in seconds. I took a moment to myself, letting my pounding heartbeat slow down and for the room to stop spinning. My hands trembled as I set the glass back down and I sighed, walking over to the window. 

All these days on the sea must have started to finally take a toll on me.

I glanced up to the stars and moon shining bright. Even with the window in between, I could still feel the chilly air of the night, the smell of the sea lingering in the air. I let my eyes travel down from the stars and to the horizon..

Out in the distance I could see land and the edge of the seven hundred foot wall of ice. 

––

After nearly a week of sailing up through the Narrow Sea we’d docked on the beach of Eastwatch in the early hours of the day, just as the sun rose. Everyone disembarked the ship, and I couldn’t be anymore grateful that I was finally on the ground. Everyone collected their things, as I looked up at the old castle on top of a large rocky hill. 

We were dressed in thick furs and multiple layers as much as we could be. I wore a black long sleeve wool dress with a thick outer cloak. A leather belt with a circular clasp with the Targaryen sigil was hung around my hips, my sword at my side and a heavy black furred cloak with a hood was on my shoulders. My forearms were wrapped in leather for added protection and to secure the thick black gloves. 

I shuddered out a breath, watching it come out as fog and dissipate into the cold air. We trekked up the stone steps and into the castle. The men of the Night's Watch glanced at me warily wondering what a woman, nonetheless a silver haired woman, was doing at the Wall. 

We entered the great hall, where a group of men were already there waiting. A tall wildling man stood by the fire, watching as we entered. He wore mostly furs, a leather belt hanging around his waist, and had wild ginger hair and overgrown beard. 

“Crow!” He grinned happily. His voice easily bounced off of the walls and he opened his arms wide open, giving Jon a large bear hug. He shakes hands with Ser Davos and turns his attention towards the rest of us. His eyes land on me. 

“You’ve brought the dragon queen?” He sounded impressed, glancing at me. “She’s small.” 

“Wrong person.” I said.

“This is Y/n Vellarys, Queen Daenerys’ trust advisor, she’s here to help us.” Jon said.

“Advisors? We need warriors, Crow, not advice.” 

“Tormund-”

“I can assure you I’m here to fight.” I said. “And if it’s any comfort, I’ve brought a dragon.” 

Tormund pauses and turns to Jon. “I like her.” 

Jon shakes his head and moves everyone to sit at one of the tables. We reiterated the plan to Tormund, who seemed to be listening quite intently. 

Once done he turned to Ser Davos. “Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” 

I stifled a laugh, completely taken aback. 

Davos sighs, “I’ve been failing at that job as of late.” 

“How many queens are there now?” 

“Two,” Jon replied. 

“And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?” 

I silently laughed at how he remembered Daenerys and Cersei. Jorah, besides me, smiles my way, very amused himself. 

“Both.” Jon replied. 

“Well, the one with the dragons believes you.” I corrected. “It’s the one who fucks her brother we have to convice.” 

Tormund nods. “How many men did you bring?”

Jon glanced around the table. “Not enough.” 

“The big women?” Tormund asks, expectantly. 

Jon smiles, but shakes his head to Tormund's disappointment.

“We were hoping some of your men could help.” Jorah says. 

“Why? You have a dragon. She said so.” He points to me.

“I did, but it’s a big risk. If the Night King see’s him, he’ll come charging towards us with his army. We can only use the dragon when necessary, otherwise none of us make it out alive.” I explained. 

“I’ll be staying behind.” Davos says. “I’m a liability out there as you well know.” 

Tormund nodded, “you are.” He turned to Jon. “You really want to go out there again?” 

Jon nods, sure of himself. 

“You're not the only ones.”

––

We were led down, deep beneath the castle into its underground dungeons. Tormund led us down the rows of cells. “My scouts found them a mile south of the wall. Said they were on their way here.” 

He stopped in front of a cell and we all peered in, spotting three men. Two stood out to me, one with the eye patch and the other with a burn scar on the side of his face. They looked familiar, reminding me of the description of a small group of men that traveled with Jon and his men Beyond the Wall.

“You're the Brotherhood Without Banners.” I realized, raising my brows.

Jon gazed over to the man with the scars. “You’re the Hound. I saw you once at Winterfell.” 

The Hound, Sandor Clegane, pulls a blanket tight around himself, shielding himself from the cold, and sits up from the table he was laying on. 

“They want to go beyond the wall too.” Tormund said. 

“We don't want to go beyond the wall, we have to.” The one with the eyepatch says. “Our lord told us the great war is coming.” 

Gendry shakes his head. “Don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them.” Everyone turns to him as he walks up and presses his face to the bars of the cell, glaring at the three in the cell. “The last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a Red Witch to be murdered.” 

Melisandre. She must have a thing for Baratheons. First Stannis then his nephew.

“Thoros?” Jorah finally spoke, stepping closer to get a better look at the man he’d been staring at for the last minute. One of the men, Thoros, sits up from a dark corner and glances at Jorah. “I hardly recognize you,” Jorah says to him. 

“Ser Jorah Mormont.” The man recalled, a mix of relief and surprise in his voice. Tormund turns and angrily looks at Jorah.

“They won’t give me anything to drink down here. I haven’t been feeling like myself.” Thoros says. 

Jorah didn’t have the opportunity to respond as Tormund finally piped up. “You’re a fucking Mormont? Like the last Lord Commander?”

“He was my father.” Jorah nods, a slight edge to his voice. 

“He hunted us like animals.” 

“You returned the favor, as I recall.” Jorah quipped back. 

“Here we all are at the edge of the world at the same moment heading in the same direction for the same reason.” The man with the eyepatch interrupted. 

“Our reasons aren’t your reasons.” Davos quickly adds. 

“It doesn’t matter what we think our reasons are.” The man stood up and walked towards the bars of the cell. “There's a greater purpose at work and we serve it together whether we know it or not. We may take the steps but the Lord of Light-” 

The man's preaching is interrupted by an annoyed Hound. “For fucks sake, will you shut your hole.” He turns to look at Jon and cuts straight to the point. “Are we coming with you or not?”

“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?” Jorah asks. 

“Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell waiting to die?” Thoros said. 

Jon glanced at me, debating. I subtly nodded, agreeing with him. “He’s right.” I said aloud. “We’re all on the same side.” 

Gendry frowned. “How can we be?” 

“We’re all breathing.” Jon replied.

Tormund hands the keys to the cell to Jon and he opens the doors, letting the men out. The four of them step out, stretching their limbs and grunted in satisfaction. They were escorted up to the castle courtyard where some of the Night's Watch men were preparing the new Dragonglass weapons. Jon and Tormund led them to the main hall to warm them up and feed them while the others dispersed around the castle. I stood off to the side, watching everyone work, and leaned around the stone baluster. 

I took a moment to myself and thought back to the dream I’d had the night before. At first I chalked it up to my imagination going loose. It made sense, after all, all the stress of the past few weeks could make anyone have the most imaginative dreams. But this wasn’t that; it was too clear, too vivid to just be a dream. There was the other possibility of it being a dragon dream, but I’d brushed that off just as soon as I’d thought it. If I was a dreamer, and that was a big if, there would have been signs and patterns, but there weren’t. 

Which only meant the dream was one thing; a warning. 

From who? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the Gods, or maybe it’s my subconscious warning me what would happen if I let Viserion wander too far, leading to the Night King claim him for himself and shift the tides of this war for a second time. 

Regardless, one thing was clear; the Night King can not get his hands on Viserion. If he does, we run the risk of going down the same path that’s written in history books. 

A hand reached out to grasp my left shoulder. “M’lady?” 

I snapped my head to the left to a confused Gendry. He slightly fornwed and gave me a once over to see if I was hurt. 

“Are you alright? I’d been calling you for a moment, but you didn’t respond.”

“What? No, I’m fine.” I shake my head, straightening my back. “Sorry, I was just thinking. What’s going on?”

“His Grace has summoned everyone to the map room so we can all further discuss our plan.” 

“Alright, lead the way.”

He gives me one last glance before turning to the left and silently leading me to where the others were. He held the thick wooden door open for me and I gave him a silent thanks. The inside of the room looked damp and dreary, the candlelight adding to its ambiance. Everyone stood around an old wooden table with a map of the wall and whatever was known north of the wall. I stood in between Jon and Davos. Tormund stood on Jon’s left with a few Wilding men besides him. Jorah and the Brotherhood stood besides Davos. Gendry closes the door behind him and comes around to stand in between the Hound and the Wildling men.

“Last we saw the Night King was at Hardhome where he laid waste to Mance Rayder's camp.” Jon drops a stone marker at Storrold’s Point. “It’s best to assume that they’ve traveled down the peninsula and are roaming through the Haunted Forest.” 

“We should travel around the edge of the forest perimeter,” I ran my finger down the edge of the treeline. “We have a better chance at catching anything by this route. Besides, If we go any deeper into the forest then extraction will be too difficult.” 

Tormund reached over and poked around the map. “This is the best path we can take, then. It’s clear, we’ll have the high ground, and it's by the forest.” 

“How do we catch one?” Gendry asks. 

“We have to gag it for starters,” I explained. “If it screams it can alert the others and then we’ll be fucked.” 

Jon nods, “we can tie it with chains and toss him into a crate that one of us can carry on our back.” 

There’s a few grunts of agreement around the table and the conversation shifts to supplies and to what we’ll take. We planned enough for at least a week's ration and planned ahead where we’d spend the night if needed. By the time we’d finished our planning, night had fallen and I had opted to retire to my room for the night with my dinner.

After an early morning breakfast everyone was ready to leave. We made our way down to the ranger gates that led into the true North. I had my sword fastened to my side as well as a new Dragonglass dagger. I looked at the raiding party made up of Jon and I, Tormund, Gendry, Jorah, Thoros, Sandor, Beric, and a small group of Wildling scouts. The gates open to the true north, a blizzard raging over the tundra. Jon looks back, glancing at everyone. We hold each other's gaze for a brief moment before he nods and he begins to march into the wild.

––

We marched in the blizzard for what felt like hours, my face feeling as if it was covered in a layer of ice. We trekked through a frozen valley of jagged rocks at the base of a steep snow covered mountain. Everyone carefully climbed up, making sure each step was planted firmly. I let out a labored breath after a difficult step. 

“Are you all right?” Jon asks me. 

I nodded, “nothing I can’t handle.” 

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Why did you leave Viserion behind?” 

“Historically, dragons have never done well this far north. There have been plenty of times when rides have tried to bring their dragons north of the wall, but they’ve all refused.” 

“And you think Viserion won’t come north?”

I shake my head. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again. “No, I just don’t want to expose him too much to whatever is up north. He may be my dragon, but he’s Daenerys’ son and the last thing I want to do is go back to Dragonstone and tell her her son is dead.” 

Jon only nods, understanding. 

“Ever been north before?” Tormund suddenly asks, leaning down towards me. 

I had, plenty of time at ski resorts and winter camping trips. I’d even traveled beyond the Wall to the Fist of the First men and other places. It wasn’t as restricted as it was nowadays, but still a desolate tundra if you stray too far north. 

“No.” I replied. 

“Beautiful, eh?” Tormund smiles. “I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit.” 

“You’ve never been down south.” Jon corrects him from my right. 

Tormund scoffs and plainly states, “I’ve been to Winterfell.” Jon huffed, shaking his head.

We continued up north and climbed a steep mountain. The view at the top was breathtaking, quite literally due to the high altitude. The snow sparkles and glistens in the sunlight almost blinding me. A few trees were scattered about and some lakes had frozen over, a thick layer of ice and snow on the top. Off into the distance you could see the treeline of the forest.

“How do you live up here?” I asked Tormund. 

“More importantly, how do you stop your balls from freezing over?” Gendry asks from behind us. 

“You have to keep moving. That’s the secret.” Tormund says. “Walking is good, fighting is better, fucking is best.” 

“There's not a woman within 100 miles of here.” Jon comments.

Tormund turned to Jon and then back to Gendry and I. “We have to make due with what we’ve got.” He hints. Gendry, surprised and slightly weirded out, backs off. I shake my head, realizing that Tormund was mostly joking, or at least I think he was. 

Tormund turned back at Jon. “This one is maybe not so smart.”

“Davos says he is a strong fighter.” 

“Good,” the Wildling nods. “That’s more important than being smart. Smart people don’t come up here looking for the dead. So, you met this Dragon Queen, huh? And?”

“She’ll only fight beside us if I bend the knee.” 

"You spent too much time with the free folk and now you don't like kneeling.” Tormund says. “Mance Rayder was a great man, a proud man. The king beyond the wall never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?”

Jon doesn’t respond, only nodding and thought over Tormunds words. I didn’t say a word and just glanced between the two. It seemed that if I couldn’t get Jon to agree to bending the knee then I may be able to use Tormund in some way.  A gust of wind  blew past us causing me to shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself. Despite the thick clothes and multiple layers I was wearing, the cold still found a way to seep through. No doubt if I was flying with Viserion I’d be warm. 

“So you have a dragon?” Tormund asks out of the blue. 

“I do.” 

“How? You're small and dragons are supposed to be big. If I were a dragon I’d want someone big, not small.” 

I shrugged. “I didn’t pick him, he picked me.”

“Dragons can pick?”

“They can. The dragons get to decide who they want to bond with. If they want you, they make it known, and if they don't then they really make it known.” 

“How long do you bond?”

“Until either the dragon or I die.”

“Is yours big?”

“It is. It’s also the eldest of the three dragons that Daenerys has.” 

“You said that the dragon is yours.” 

“Yes, I’ve bonded with it, but ultimately, he’s Daenerys’ son.” 

“She gave birth to dragons?” He asks with a mixture of confusion and interest. 

“No, it’s like a figure of speech. She had three dragon eggs turned to stone. When her husband died she took them and sat with them in the funeral pyre. When the fire died down the eggs had hatched and she was called ‘Mother of Dragons’ because she brought stone eggs back to life. I may have bonded with one of her dragons, but he still listens to her and protects her with his brothers.”

“Like a son?”

“Like a son.”

He stays silent for a while, but speaks up again. 

“I want a dragon.”

––

We continued walking for a few more hours, taking breaks whenever necessary for either food or water. The trek was getting a bit easier now that the terrain was starting to level out. I'd migrated somewhere behind the pack, wanting to go at a more steady pace and a clear path so that snow wouldn’t clog my shoes again. 

“You seem to be taking this journey well, My Lady.” Joarh says, stepping in line with me. 

“I’m trying. The most walking I do is around the castle.”

He stays silent for a moment. “How did you manage to serve Her Grace?” 

Well, I was brought back in time and bent the knee and pledged to get her the throne with my knowledge of future events. 

“I bent the knee.” I say. “And swore to get her the Iron Throne. The rest was up to her.” 

“That’s it?” 

“Well I guess it also helped that my ancestor was Gaemon the Glorious’ mother.”

“What?” 

I nod, reaching into my neckline and fishing out my necklace. It sparkled in the sunlight as I held it up. “Vellarys of Old Valyria, but we’re currently in Volantis, y’know after the whole doom thing.” 

Seemingly satisfied (for now), Jorah nods and the conversation ends there. The raid party comes to a halt and Sandor looks off to the distance. There's a steep mountain that looks like it climbed up into the clouds. 

“That’s what I saw in the fire.” He points to the mountain. “A mountain like an arrowhead.”

“Are you sure?” Thoros asks. 

Sandor nods, “we’re getting close.” 

Everyone starts walking again, now towards the base of the mountain. The weather had significantly worsened over the hours, snow blowing past us, making it hard to see past a few feet ahead. 

The wind blew around us, wailing in our ears and the clouds covered the sky giving everything a muddled blue haze. A wildling scout was sent ahead to lead the way, armed with a spear. Jon, Tormund, and I were at the front of the group when Tormund saw the scout’s feet flatter. He places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, his other hand motioning everyone behind him to stop marching.

“Look!” 

We all tried to look through the whirling snow, squinting our eyes. Up ahead, a shadowy figure emerged. It was hard to make out what it was. 

“A bear,” Sandor realizes. 

“Big fucker,” Tormund comments. 

“Do bears have blue eyes?” Gendry asks wearily. Everyone looked further at the bear, now seeing its glowing blue eyes. 

“No.” I replied aloud. 

The bear begins to charge towards us and the terrified scout who began running back towards the rest of the group. Everyone draws their swords, holding it out in front of themselves, ready. Despite the scout's best, the bear lunges forwards and catches the scout and tackles him towards the ground and into the snow. Everyone runs to where the bear had dragged the scout, only to find a patch of bloody snow and his spear. A bear grunts in the distance and everyone searches for it, turning their backs towards each other in a tight circle. 

The wind howls and the snow makes visibility almost impossible, but everyone keeps their position, eyes alert for the bear. I stood in between Jorah and Tormund, watching ahead when a bear screams and leaps from the snow behind us, tearing into another scout with its teeth. Tormund lunges forward to attack but the bear knocks him aside. Sandor runs to check on him while Beric and Thoros ignite their swords and advance to the bear. The bear mulls another scout, throwing his corpse aside with a gruntled roar. Beric dodges the corpse and plunges his flaming sword into the bear, who catches fire. The flaming bear roars and moves erratically and locks his eyes on Sandor who hesitates, his steps flattering. 

The bear launches towards him but Thoros throws himself in between the two and the bear jumps on top of him trying to eat his face. Thoros braces his flaming sword in the bear's mouth, using all his strength to push the bear back. Out of nowhere, Tormund swings his axe into the bear, only for him to be thrown aside, again. Taking it as an opening, I lunged and drove my dragonglass dagger into the bear’s neck, finally killing it. 

The bear falls onto Thoros and Jorah and Beric pull it away and help Thoros onto his feet. Beric extinguishes his sword in the snow and I turn to where Jon and Tormund stood by the dead scout, looking down and following the bear's paw prints with their eyes. 

“We’re getting close.” Jon said.

a/n: happy new year to you all!! i hope this year is a thousand times better than the last for all of you :) tbh i had planned for this part to come out on the first, but then i remembered who i was and decided to wait a bit.

hopefully, you all enjoy this chapter. lmk your thoughts on the dynamic between the MC and a certain ginger haired wildling man ;)

ALSO, i with bad news. i will be gone for all of febuary to the first week of march. i will be traveling out of the country (usa) and won't be able to update. so to make sure you're all fed, i'll be uploading another chapter before i leave and when i'm back in march i'll give you two more again.

i was thinking that while i was gone why don't you guy leave me any questions? sorta like a Q&A for this series. you can send them as asks or through my dm's or comment them, idc, i'll do it if you guys want.

anyways, happy new years, and enjoy the chapter :)

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat @evilunicorns4minions

[firstprinceofhearts]

My friend sent me a gif of this kiss the other day, asking why it's "kinda innocent but so fucking hot"...

Exhibit A - The kiss:

Naturally I've been overthinking it ever since, because she's absolutely right, it is both adorably innocent and insanely hot all at the same time. It also happens to be one of my favourite kisses in the whole film, so let's explore it further, shall we?

In the White House garden (Exhibit B, below), Henry has just come to the realisation that, not only is Alex straight, and definitely not interested in him, Alex is also completely oblivious to the fact that Henry has been flirting with him this whole damn time. He's sad and hurt and drunk, and when he kisses him it's an impulsive, almost helpless reaction to those feelings. It's an act of desperation, with no real hope of reciprocation, which means that when Alex actually kisses him back, he's not remotely prepared for it... so he freaks out and bolts.

Exhibit B - Henry kisses Alex (and Alex kisses back):

Then we come to the Red Room where, this time, Henry is the one taken off guard (Exhibit C, below). He's presumably spent the last month berating himself for his drunken stupidity, only for his apology to be cut off before he can even make it.

He doesn't have much more than a second to think about it, let alone rewrite his entire world view, but he knows what he wants, so he literally grabs the chance he never thought he'd get with both hands and kisses Alex as hard and as hungrily as he can.

Exhibit C - Alex kisses Henry (and Henry kisses back):

So, when they finally make it up to Alex's bedroom for their late night tryst (Exhibit D, below), one can only imagine that they've both been thinking about little else all evening. Add to that, Henry has likely been thinking about little else for months (if not years), and he wants everything. It's hungry, urgent, desperate... and hot as fuck. *ahem*

Exhibit D - All the kisses:

By the time we reach this kiss, though, the kiss (Exhibit A, above), the last one of the night, they're more relaxed in each other's company than they've possibly ever been before. They're both satisfied (because I refuse to accept a universe in which Alex didn't reciprocate in some way, no matter how inexplicably put together Henry looks afterwards - seriously, he's still wearing his jacket? And his bow tie isn't even a little crooked?!) and they've instinctively fallen back into their usual dynamic, pulling each other's pigtails, only now the flirtatious undercurrent isn't so 'under' and inevitably their roughhousing quickly turns into more kissing.

Except it's not hungry or desperate or urgent like all the other times, it's not a means to an end, it's affectionate, playful. It's a kiss just for the sake of kissing and, incidentally, I'm willing to bet that's why Henry bolts again (Exhibit E, below), because he realises it too. That this isn't just a one night stand to get Alex out of his system. That there really could be something more between them, and that terrifies him.

Exhibit E - Poor baby:

Anyway, that is why I think it's got such an innocent vibe (they really are just playing around), but the levity of the moment doesn't change the way that Henry pushes him back against the cushions, nor the fact that he is literally pinning Alex down and that is really fucking hot.

[tkwrites]

Elimination - Quinn Hughes x ofc

 gif by @thombordeleau 

Title: Elimination

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Sad Quinn, fluff and comfort, smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), if I missed any others, please let me know. 

Summary: When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Word count: 4,200

Comments: This snapshot has been a long time coming. The idea of Sarah comforting Quinn the way she does came to me while I was driving to work one day, and I immediately wrote it down. It took me quite a while to figure Quinn’s family into the story, including his brothers (yes! They're finally here!). 

As I was editing the comfort scene, I found the story continuing in a way I didn’t really expect, but mirrored Before I meet your parents… in a way I couldn’t ignore. 

If you enjoy it, please let me know by commenting or reblogging! Your comments really do inspire me to keep writing! 

Elimination 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The playoffs were a whole different beast than Sarah had become accustomed to. Not only was the season much longer than any of the guys were used to, practices were more intense and heated, video more in depth, the need for rest and recovery more acute. She knew first hand how tired the team was because she knew first hand how tired Quinn was. 

In the first round, they'd lost the first game in the series before rallying to win the next three. The Kings won one more before the Canucks stamped them out with the last win coming on home ice in overtime. Despite the final score only being 1-0, it was the most exciting game Sarah had ever been to. 

When she was sitting with Quinns family, Luke had taken to teasing her in that little brother way every time her hands ended up clutching her face with each shot directed at Demko or Talbot. 

“Calm down, Sarah,” he’d said, when she jumped in her seat, hands flying up to cover her mouth as Demko barrel rolled to stop another shot from Kopitar.

She'd sent a playful glare his way, “I'm surprised Kylee hasn't told you you should never tell a woman to calm down. That's a surefire way to get yourself into trouble.” 

Kylee, who was sitting on Lukes other side, snorted. “Oh, I have. He just doesn’t listen.”

Luke took it in stride and laughed. He reminded Sarah so much of her oldest nephew, Ryan. Good natured, friendly and a little bit goofy once she broke through that shy shell.

Sarah glanced at Jack, who was sitting with his some of his cousins farther down the row. His eyes darted away, as if caught staring at something he shouldn’t. 

The strained way he acted around her was getting better, but he was still pretty standoffish toward her. When she asked Quinn what she could do to fix it, he said to just give it time, and Jack would come around eventually. He didn’t think it was actually anything about her, but rather Jack needing time to adjust to the situation. 

“I think he finally realized how serious I am about you.” 

“You’re serious about me?” she’d asked, all flirty lashes and coy smiles. 

“You know I am,” he’d responded before leaning in to kiss her. 

So, she turned back to the game, giving Jack time and hoping he would see  how much she loved his older brother and that she only meant well. 

When Garland shot the overtime goal off a picture perfect pass from Quinn, he managed to catch Talbot above the blocker, sending the puck sailing into the back of the net with a definitive whoosh. 

The arena erupted into a wall of sound.

The entire team, clad in blue, spilled onto the ice, throwing helmets and gloves, crowding around Conor and Thatcher. 

Quinn was ecstatic that evening. Practically bouncing off the walls of the club they went to to celebrate. Sarah had never seen him so loud - caught up in the atmosphere and moment. 

Halfway through the night, he pulled her into a dim corner and kissed her so thoroughly, she actually considered pulling him into the dingy bathroom to have her way with him right then. 

Jack interrupted, drunkenly loud, and demanded that Quinn come with him for a round of shots. 

Quinn paused, meeting Sarah’s eye. 

“Go celebrate,” she encouraged, trying her best to not come between them. She and Quinn could find a spare moment to celebrate on their own later. 

With his family in his house, that moment hadn’t come, but she was glad to see Quinn celebrating so heartily with his brothers. 

In the second round, after three straight losses to the Predators, Vancouver battled, forcing game five, before dominating in Nashville two nights later, selling their comeback story.

When they got back to town, the whole city was buzzing.

Despite the excitement, game six was awful to watch. Sarah had her hands over her mouth through most of it.  

Now that they were fighting to tie, and the Preds were fighting, once again, to clinch the series, Nashville was playing dirty: exploiting every Canucks weakness they could find. They needled, drawing penalty after stupid, preventable penalty until they were three goals up at the end of the second period. 

Quinn was exhausted. Sarah could see it in his skating and in the slumped set of his shoulders as they went into the dressing room for the intermission.

She sent him a text, I’m so proud of you. 

He didn't reply, but they battled back, holding off all Preds offense and getting within a goal by the time Demko was pulled at the end of the third. Quinn battled fiercely to keep the puck in the offensive zone for more than a minute, giving a master class on body-eye coordination as he skirted the blue line, dodging Nashville players as if someone were controlling him with a top ice view. 

Their passes were perfect: tic-tac-toe from Quinn to Mikheyev to Lafferty, but as Sam tried to get the puck to Höglander, the pass was intercepted.

Nashville fought to center ice and chipped the puck into the Vancouver end. 

Quinn chased it, but he just didn't have enough in the tank. He caught up just as the puck bounced back out of the open net. 

Full of frustration and despair, he smacked it into the boards. Caught at just the right angle, the puck ricocheted back at him, and he had to lift a hand to block it from hitting him in the face. 

Sarah could practically see the frustrated embarrassment radiating off him as he skated to sit down. 

Demko was pulled again and Quinn managed to get the empty netter back, but through the ugly march of time, the clock expired before they could score another. 

The buzzer sounded and Nashville celebrated, throwing equipment all over the ice, all hugging and jumping as the Canucks limped into the dressing room. 

Even despite the disappointment of losing, everyone was thrilled to see them get this far. Going from the middle of the pack last season to top of the league this year was no small feat. She knew Quinn wouldn’t be satisfied until they got the cup, but she was so proud of him. 

He sent a text, telling them to go home and he would meet them there when he was done with the media. 

It was torture for Sarah to have to leave and wait for him. She wished she could go down to the dressing room, but knew not only would she not be allowed in, Quinn would hate it. He would want to talk with her privately. 

Everyone was subdued as they puttered around the apartment, waiting for him. Both Jack and Luke were on their phones, sprawled out over the living room furniture, while Ellen, Jim and Kylee were doing something in the kitchen. Sarah was too nervous to even distract herself. Quinn had lost before, of course, but she’d never seen him lose like this — not this kind of a season-ending, brutal loss. 

When the elevator dinged, Sarah jumped to her feet, his family following suit, clambering into the living room.

To her surprise, Quinn came straight to her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His suit was rumpled, his tie attempting to slither out of his breast pocket. When she wrapped him in her arms, he practically collapsed against her. 

Ellen knew Quinn loved and trusted Sarah and that he spent far more time with her these days, but it was still a bit shocking when he bypassed them all to go straight to her for comfort.

Sarah reacted in a way Ellen never had and upon seeing the scene play out, she realized Sarah’s reaction may have been something Quinn had been longing for for a long time.

She would usually hug him for a while, before talking him down. They would soon end up dissecting shifts and plays. He would lament how he could have been better, and she would try to comfort him while still being realistic. 

Sarah just stood there, holding him. She didn't say a word, even when Quinn started to cry softly. She just ran a hand into his wet hair, while the other traveled slowly up and down his back. 

 She didn't assure or placate him, or even try to get him to stop crying. She just let him express the emotion without judgment or commentary. It hit Ellen suddenly that Sarah reacted this way because she had dealt with so much sorrow in her life, she knew how to comfort in these hard moments. 

The family stood by and watched. She didn’t look up and meet their eyes with a conspiratorial, he’ll be alright, look, or invite them into the embrace. Her whole intention was focused on Quinn. 

While it was sweet to see them together in this way, it was also a little awkward to watch, especially for the boys, who looked like they had no idea what to do.

It was full minutes before anyone said anything, and even then, it was just Sarah asking if he wanted to sit down. He shook his head so she did a little two-step, and kept on. 

As Ellen watched them interact, it was obvious how much they meant to and understood each other. It was so sweet to witness her son finding the person he needed that she pulled out her phone to record them, wanting to document the moment. 

When they finally spoke, Ellen was glad she was filming. 

“I let everyone down,” Quinn said, his voice choked with emotion, just above a whisper. 

“No.” Her voice was quite loud, the word definitive, leaving no room for doubt. It was a bit shocking to hear Sarah be so forceful.

Taking his jaw, she gently lifted his head up so he had to look into her eyes. 

“No,” she repeated, her voice a little softer now. “This wasn't only your fault, and it didn't happen because of anything you did by yourself.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she would go that far… If he had gone for a change, someone with fresh legs may have been able to chase down that empty netter.

“You don’t win as a team, but lose by yourself. That’s not how this works.”

Now she understood where Sarah was going. 

“I know this run is ending sooner than you wanted and I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad.” She paused for a long moment, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. When she didn’t find it, she continued, “I just - I want you to remember that I don't love you because you play hockey.” 

His lower lip trembled and Ellen felt hers do the same. 

“I love you because of this big, kind heart,” she said as she pressed a hand to his chest, “and because of this brilliant, thoughtful mind,” her other hand slid into the hair at his temple. “And those are the same as they were this morning. You're so much more than hockey.”

He was looking at her like she'd hung the moon. 

Ellen felt tears slip down her own cheeks. All her life, she’d been trying to strike a balance with her boys - trying to find the right way to tell them hockey was just a part of who they are. And here Sarah was, walking into their life, and saying the exact thing Ellen had been trying to say all along. 

Right then and there, the remaining reservations she had about Sarah were swept onto the back burner. She knew it would still take some getting used to, but how could she not love this woman standing in front of her, telling her son she loved him for who he was and not for the things he did? It was all she could ask for as a mother. 

She glanced over at Jack, who looked a little dumbfounded, as if seeing Sarah for the first time. Luke was smiling in a glad, knowing way, his arm looped around Kylee. 

Jim, standing on Ellen’s other side had a mixture of pride and disappointment on his face. Ellen knew he was going to battle with himself at the thought of Quinn crying over being eliminated. When they were kids, he would have told the boys to buck up, despite Ellen’s insistence it was okay for them to express their sadness for a little while. 

The happiness at seeing someone accept Quinn as he was won out, and Jim put his arm around Ellen with a conspiratorial smile.

“Of course you’re going to be sad,” Sarah continued. “Like I said, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But you,” she poked him gently in the chest to emphasize her point, “sure as hell didn’t let me down.” 

Quinn threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”   

“I love you, too.” 

He wiped at his eyes, then turned to the family. They embraced him one by one. 

After she’d hugged Quinn, Ellen went to Sarah, “I don’t know how you did that,” she said, pulling her close, “but that was exactly what he needed.” 

When Quinn made his way back to Sarah, he kissed her temple. His eyes were still red, cheeks still splotched with color, but he looked settled. Not satisfied or happy, really, but settled.

Later that night, Ellen sent the video to her sister, making her promise to not share it with anyone. She just needed someone else to see the tenderness. 

Oh, Elle, I'm so glad Quinn finally found a good one. I can't wait to meet her. 

At the same time Ellen was texting her sister, Quinn was lying next to Sarah in bed. Her words from earlier replaying over and over again in his thoughts. 

He'd practically begged her to stay over. She hadn't planned to with his family in the house, but he felt a bit needy and wanted the comfort of her next to him. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, turning to her.

She rolled onto her side so they were face to face. “I'm always gonna be in your corner, Quinn.”

Leaning in, he kissed her - gently at first, but it soon turned more passionate. 

The fact that they would be apart before too long was on both their minds as they made love that night. 

“Oh, Quinn. Right there, right there,” she chanted, voice soft. 

The simple fact that he could make her feel this way made his heart feel full to bursting. At least he hadn't lost that. 

Keeping eye contact, his hand traced to her left knee and pulled it up over his hip. He didn’t want her to have the same old orgasm. Not tonight. A big part of him wanted to prove he could still excel here.

Head tipping back, Sarah panted.  

His other hand came up to guide her chin back down. 

The way she clenched around him when their eyes met made his hips stutter.

She lifted herself up to catch his mouth. It changed the angle of his thrusts, making his whole body quiver. He tried to brace against it, slowing down and concentrating on kissing the breath out of her. 

It worked in that they were both breathless before too long, but didn't ease the feeling of being pulled to the very edge of his restraint. The competitive streak inside him wasn't about to allow himself to come before she did - especially not tonight, when he had so much left to prove. 

“No,” she gasped  when he pulled away. “I was right there.”

He laughed into her skin. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, before tracing his mouth over her clavicle and trailing his tongue between her breasts, savoring the salty taste of her skin. 

The blankets pulled with him as he settled between her legs, and Sarah gasped as the cool air of his room hit her. 

She looked so ethereal in a pool of soft light from one of the skylights, her chest rising and falling at a hurried, steady pace. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered. 

Times like these, Quinn still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Sarah. She seemed to be his perfect match in every way. It wasn’t always smooth sailing - nothing ever was. This summer was sure to take a toll on their relationship. He knew, somehow, they would come out on the other side, better and stronger, but all the same, he wasn’t looking forward to spending so many nights without her. 

Pushing that worry out of his mind, he concentrated the task at hand and lowered his mouth to her hot center. 

It was his turn to give thanks.

She was acutely aware of his family in the apartment: brothers on the floor below, while his parents were down the hall. They were never particularly loud in bed, but the thought of his family overhearing hushed her vocal cords even more. 

“Quinn,” she whimpered.

He ate up every whisper, every little whine and panted breath, knowing they were just for him. 

Making some unintelligible noise, her back arched, lifting off the mattress. 

She whined when he eased two fingers into her and lifted his mouth. 

“Help me find it?” he whispered, crooking his fingers.

“Higher.”

He moved slowly, not wanting to go too fast and pass over it.  

“There, there,” she panted. 

Reaching up with his free hand, he disentangled her fingers from the sheet so he could grasp her hand, linking them together.

“You can press a little harder. It’s not as sen -” her voice broke off into a groaned, “oh, fuck,” as he urged that soft, spongey spot with a heavier touch. 

They’d done this more after his revelatory first time, and he loved discovering new things about her. He still had a hard time finding her g-spot on his own, but he was learning. Tonight felt like a whole new ego stroke, one he was seeking if he was being honest with himself.

His mind wandered back to the first time he’d touched her, the way she’d reminded him of Helen of Troy - beautiful beyond belief. He ached for her the same way now as he watched her fall apart. Mouth dropped open as her body pulled taught as a bow string, one hand grasping the headboard for stability while the other clutched his like a vice.

As she came down from her high, he kept his fingers pressed into her.

Even as she squirmed against the sensitivity from his strong touch, she felt a blaze of pleasure reignite in her belly, faster than it ever had before. 

Still kneading with his fingertips, he lowered down, sucking her sensitive pearl into his mouth. She let out a strangled cry that left him dizzy with satisfaction. 

The contrast of his warm mouth and soft tongue on her core against the harsh rasp of his playoff beard on her inner thighs wound her tighter and tighter until he was sparking so much ecstasy in her body, she couldn't quite remember why she was trying to be so quiet.

Her fingers tightened in his at the same time her legs trembled and he knew she was close. He continued on, mouth soft and steady while his fingers worked with more focused intent. 

The way she whimpered his name made him groan and rock his hips into the mattress to get a bit of relief.

When the tension in her pelvis finally snapped, Sarah cried out. 

It was only after she came back to herself and he eased his fingers from her that she worried about how loud she'd been. 

Before she could ask, he knocked her breathless again as he slid his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with apparent relish. 

“Did I yell?” she whispered as he crawled back over her. 

He shook his head, “not too loud. I don't think they heard.”

The anxiety ebbed away as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“Can you turn over?” he asked, lips barely grazing hers. 

She pulled back to look into his face. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he said. 

“You already did. Twice.”

“Please?” he asked, ghosting his lips over her cheek, “let me make you come one more time.”

In reality, Quinn was tired, but his pride was insistent, eager to feel her again and he knew if he got her on her stomach she’d come faster than in missionary. 

He could see worry in her expression, but she did as he asked, the sheets clinging briefly to her back as she rolled. 

One of his hands grazed down her side, following the curvature of her hip before tracing her hamstring all the way to the knee. Hooking his hand there, he eased her leg out to the side. 

He really was spoiling her. Eagle with a broken wing was her favorite position other than missionary, but they didn’t do it terribly often, both generally preferring to see the other when they were together. 

She felt Quinn’s heat before any of his skin, and raised her hips slightly to facilitate him. 

“You’re —” she broke off into a groan as he eased into her again. She was so sensitive, she was fairly certain she would have fallen apart all over again if he had given her an intense enough look. Heat was already climbing up her spine and he hadn't even moved yet. 

His hands appeared near hers as he braced on his forearms. She moved to lace her fingers through his. 

When he began to thrust, he felt her fingers curl until her nails kissed his palms  

Listening to her sweet sounds, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to live in her forever.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, chaos sparking all over her skin. “I didn't think I could come this many times so quickly.”

Her hushed statement rushed to his head. “Sarah,” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Sarah.” 

His mouth traced the curve of her neck before gently biting the ridge of her shoulder.

The prick of pain from his teeth combined with the way he was hitting her g spot in a steady, continuous rhythm had Sarah’s mouth falling open. “Oh. Quinn,” she moaned. “Just like that. Please don't stop.” 

Feeling out of his mind with pleasure and pride, he rested his forehead on her back.

Only after he felt her tremble and pulse around him and chanting that he loved her, he let himself go, spilling into her with a loud groan he tried to muffle into her skin. 

They stayed that way for a long while, his sweaty chest pressed into her back. He was a comfortable weight, pressing her into the mattress.

Quinn talked himself into moving and eased out, his wince matching the breath she hissed through her teeth. Before he could decide which side to roll onto, she was turning onto her back, and pulling him into her embrace. 

Resting his head on her chest, he sighed. 

Sarah smiled, tired but gratified and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but waited, knowing Quinn needed this extra affection.

“I don't…” he started to say, then trailed off, slowly tracing a circle around her belly button. 

He had never felt supported and loved like he had today. Not only when she just let him cry, but when she reminded him that she loved the things about him that weren't his job. 

Quinn hadn't known how much he needed to hear Sarah’s words until she was saying them. His whole family was so entwined in hockey that, even though he knew his parents loved him, it sometimes felt like his success and failure in the arena were wrapped up in their affection and approval. It was one of the reasons Jack always felt like the favorite child, as he had the most natural talent. 

“You don't?” she urged when he didn’t say anything else.

He shook his head and took a steadying breath. “I feel like I don't deserve you.” 

A little smile played on her lips, “I feel that way sometimes, too, but I'm not really sure it's about deserving. Everyone deserves love.” 

She paused for a long time playing with his hair. It relaxed Quinn, causing him to practically melt into her.

“I'm glad we're both willing to put in the work and try to meet in the middle,” she said quietly.

He agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast.

As they stayed that way for a long time, Quinn felt cocooned in her love and hoped she felt the same. 

“Okay,” she said a little while later, starting to feel sticky and itchy, “I’m sorry, but I really need to shower, or at least rinse off.” 

They took a quick shower, and Quinn changed the fitted sheet as she redid her skincare. 

When they finally fell asleep tangled together, she in a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, and he in his boxers, it was well after three. 

After sleeping like the dead, Quinn woke close to ten, still feeling that strong swell of gratitude easing the disappointment in his chest. 

If anyone in his family had heard them, they were all excellent actors, and didn't say a thing. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[velvetm00light]

Snowed In

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: The entire BAU team decides to take a vacation to snowy Vermont. After a day of traveling together and being the last of the team to show up to the cabin, Spencer and y/n are exhausted and in need of quality time with their friends. When alcohol and games are mixed, Spencer decides to get y/n worked up before sneaking into her room that night to show her what can happen when the sexual tension between them finally snaps.

Warnings: smut, choking, alcohol consumption, others in the house, teasing, sneaking into her room, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexual tension, games (Twister).

A/N: I know it's freshly November but that's close enough to Christmas for me. This idea has been plaguing my brain for literal days now so I just couldn't resist the itch to write this. I also don't want to keep a masterpiece away from you guys especially since I probably won't be able to write for a week after this :(. But, as always, I hope ya'll eat this tf up like I did while I was writing it. <3 Also, I think I like the 3 pic banner so much better than the gifs so I might start doing that :)

THE ICE THAT COATED the sidewalk became a mirror, the concrete beneath twisting into the twin of the gloomy, gray sky above. Y/n's frost-bitten fingers tremble against the ebony wool coat she was wearing tightly wrapped as close to her body as she could possibly pull it. The unrelenting wind bit at her cheeks, her skin raw and burning.

She and Spencer had decided to walk through the cabin's yard rather than risk slipping on the glassy ice, which proved rather asinine as both of their boots and luggage wheels caked in packed snow and mud the deeper into the yard they hiked, slowing their pace. She peered ahead at Spencer under her heavy hood. His chestnut boots a bit more worse for wear than hers, considering he's worn the same ones probably every day of his life.

One hand shoved into his pockets, the other gripped onto the handle of his suitcase so tightly his knuckles blanched. His head dipped against the sharp wind. If she had any energy left by the time they finally reached the cabin's wooden front door, she was going to one hundred percent rub it in his face. They had a negligible argument prior to arriving at the cabin - Spencer completely hellbent on not needing a winter coat, and y/n explaining that Vermont's climate is completely paradoxical to Virginia's at most times of this year.

When they had left Virginia, the sky had been a meager blue, and the wind had grown a bite to it, indicating the impending winter but not intense enough to warrant them to avoid being outside at all costs yet. Temperatures had called for slacks and the usual sweater under a proper coat during their last few cases prior to their very welcomed vacation time. She just wanted to laugh in his face at how right she had been proven in the 5 minutes since they'd parked their rental car in the snow-packed driveway.

When they finally reach the cabin door, Spencer fumbles with the brass knob, his frozen fingers barely able to grasp it enough to twist and open. The door opens without difficulty and y/n almost slams into Spencer's back in an attempt to flee the harsh cold of Vermont.

Y/n hastily shut the door behind her. She and Spencer didn't bother unwrapping any scarves or unbuttoning any coats until they could feel their extremities again as they made their way into the expansive living room, leaving their suitcases by the door. A fresh pine tree lay decorated in lights and garland in the far right corner, the smell of pine welcome in her nose, a large window hiding behind it, climbing halfway up the logged wall before stopping and becoming more logs, with a smaller window on top, shaped to a slope to match the cabin's sloping ceiling.

JJ, Emily, and Penelope sit perched on the chocolate-colored couch to the left of the pine tree turned Christmas tree, wooly sweater sleeves pulled over their hands as they gently hold warm mugs of hot cocoa, most likely.

"You're finally here!" Penelope calls, setting her chipped mug gently on the coffee table just a leg lengths away from the couch. Emily and JJ copy Penelope's actions as they rush over to greet the two latecomers.

"We thought you guys might've gotten stuck or frozen to death or something," Emily explained, engulfing y/n in a hug so tight she thought her lungs might have to escape her body entirely to relieve the pressure.

"With the way Spencer drives, I think we almost got stuck like 4 times," y/n teased, resulting in a malicious side eye from Spencer but giggles from the women in front of her.

"To be fair, we only actually got stuck once. We made it in one piece so I don't see the issue."

Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, the rest of her energy spent on the single ridicule, her mind unable to continue the back and forth.

"The rest of them are in the kitchen," JJ explains, leading them through an archway embellished with fake leaves and fairy lights.

Rossi's back is to them as he pulls a steaming mug from the microwave. When he finally turns to spot y/n and Spencer, the last two team members to make it through the treacherous countryside of Vermont, he places the mug on the kitchen island. "I was just making you guys some cups of cocoa, but it's the packet kind. I would've made it from scratch if I thought I could survive another trip outside."

The team erupted in chuckles, "Yeah, I wouldn't suggest going out there, Rossi. You might freeze on the spot," Morgan laughed.

"Hey, I'm old, but I'm not that old."

Spencer reached delicately for the mug resting on the kitchen island, sliding his fingers through the handle and carefully lifting it as to not spill it over his hand. He turns to y/n and holds out the cup for her.

"I'll take the next one," he smiles. She gives him a sweet smile back as she takes the hot cocoa from him, "Thanks, Spence."

Y/n rose to sit upon a marbled counter, her hot cocoa clutched into her hands, greedy for the warmth it brought to her numbed fingers. Her legs swung, feeling restless despite the exhaustion that weighed her entire body down.

Vacation had began to seem like a myth considering serial killers never cease to kill and each and every person in the kitchen with her had the same mindset when it came to their work. People need us. She can't remember the last time one of her coworkers had taken a vacation or even just a day off as if they were avoiding it like a contagious disease.

She had to admit, it did almost make her feel uncomfortable to think about taking a vacation. She didn't hold much trust in others to do their jobs for them. But, nevertheless, she was grateful to finally have some time to spend with her favorite people doing nothing but watching cheesy Christmas movies and playing board and card games like she was a child again.

With all her might, she pushed down the lingering guilt she always seemed to feel when she wasn't working towards catching a bad guy. Villains always need their heroes, and she didn't like the idea of letting the villains run rampant for too long.

Her internal battle must have shown on her face because Spencer laid a secretive hand over hers as he leaned against the countertop she sat upon. He tilted his face upwards to look at her, silently asking her, what are you thinking about? Spencer seemed to be the one person who could read her like a book, despite y/n keeping the book of her life and emotions locked, shut, and completely hidden away from everyone else.

She shrugged, not important. She diverted her gaze from his, the weight of his causing her mouth to part slightly, wanting to spill everything running through her mind - but she clamped her mouth shut because that is definitely not something she wanted to do in front of her entire team.

She could feel his gaze still on her, reading the emotions on her face like a book, as if he looked long and hard enough, her thoughts would display themselves above her head. "Stop profiling me, weirdo," she whispered, just loud enough for only him to hear.

He rolled his eyes at her, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up into a smile.

"How was the drive, Spence? It seems like you guys got the worst of this incoming storm," JJ stated, her mug had been retrieved from the living room coffee table and now rested in her cupped hands as she rested her elbows on the kitchen island.

"Dangerous," y/n muttered. Spencer playfully elbowed her. "Hey! You can't tell me you didn't fear for our lives at least once during that drive."

Spencer didn't bother responding, knowing she was right. The drive hadn't been the worst it could've been, but the snow had began flurrying as they arrived to the airport, y/n's hood pulled so far over her head she kept her eyes locked on Spencer's boots in front of her to lead her. The roads were slick with snow and ice, and the winding strip of road leading up to the isolated cabin had not been the easiest or safest to navigate.

"It's a good thing you guys got here before it got too bad, we might have to really get comfortable with each other considering we'll most likely be stuck here longer than we want," Emily suggested. The team nodding in agreement. Y/n was grateful she had remembered to bring every card and board game she could get her little hands on - Monopoly, Cards Against Humanity, even Twister. She couldn't wait to get the team drunk and convince them to play Twister.

"Speaking of, I think it's time we whip out the alcohol and the games," Emily smiled, as if reading the thought directly from y/n's mind, taking a bottle of top-shelf Tequila by the neck and wiggling it in the air.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Rossi stated.

Y/n and her team made their way into the living room, spiked hot cocoa in hand. She relaxed in the middle of the couch after grabbing her Cards Against Humanity box from her suitcase by the door, Spencer to her right and JJ to her left. Rossi and Hotch taking the two reclining chairs and pulling them forward to reach the table. Emily gracefully sitting on a pillow on the floor, Morgan settling for sitting directly on the carpet, and when Spencer attempts to offer Emily his spot, she dismisses him with the wave of a hand and a suggestive glance towards y/n.

Spencer repositioned himself again on the couch, the meaning of Emily's glance fully understood.

Y/n takes the liberty of pulling the cards out of their designated box and separating them into piles scattered across the coffee table, making sure every has access to a pile of white cards. As she finishes, the conversation about who goes first and random rules to add immediately sparks. Considering the instructions clearly read that whoever pooped most recently was to be the one to start.

The conversation turned argument continued on longer than any thought necessary, laughter filling the cabin to the brim. "Well if we're really trying to have a good time, all the losers each round have to drink."

Once in agreement, the team finally quieted as Hotch reluctantly grabbed the black card on the top of the stack in the middle of the table and read it aloud.

Y/n's head began buzzing as they were a fourth of the way through the stack of black cards, the game no where within bounds of stopping. Her limbs finally felt loose from being curled up in a plane and car seat for hours, trying to avoid looking at the snowy danger they had to travel through.

The entire team shed their worries, stresses, and found it in themselves to be in the moment. Everyone had equal amounts of pain lacing their chests and stomaches from laughing too hard at cards played and also equal amounts of disgusted faces and a little bit of gagging after the rules began to increase the more alcohol consumed - they had began ranking everyone's answers by the fourth time around, the person in first being exempt from drinking anything, the person coming in last being required to take a shot instead of a sip of their drink. Y/n seemed to be on a losing streak.

Luckily, her team was too engrossed in the game to notice when she took smaller shots than she was supposed to. She didn't want to be totally inebriated in the first few hours of her first vacation in God knows how long.

Spencer's arm was outstretched on the couch behind her, his other hand holding his cards secretively, knowing that y/n would a hundred percent be trying to take peeks now and then.

Once they had almost completely blown through most of the black stack, y/n ceased the opportunity. "I brought Twister!"

The entire room cheered, and she stumbled over to her suitcase to grab it out. It was quickly set up within a minute and to her distress, they decided to make teams and compete, obviously.

The girls split into a group and the boys into another. Emily and Hotch started first, Emily easily more flexible than Hotch, his leg unable to twist towards the red dot in the corner, resulting in him falling over and a chorus of laughter echoing off the logged walls.

"Spencer, Y/n, you guys should do it next!" Penelope gasped. "You're both so lanky, it'll be a close match."

Y/n's heart beat against her throat and she felt the rush of heat bloom in her neck and rise towards her still raw cheeks. She took a deep breath, not willing to show how much of a reaction she had at the thought of being tangled up with Spencer.

JJ and Rossi finish their round, JJ sneakily leaning into Rossi enough to knock him over, giving the girls a 2 point lead. Y/n and Spencer stroll leisurely towards the edges of the Twister map. An arched brow climbs her forehead, "I hope you're ready to lose."

"In your dreams," he smirks, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

As Penelope spins the pointer, she begins to call out body parts and colors. Within minutes, y/n and Spencer are a heap of tangled limbs, her back resting against Spencer's chest as she's bent over to reach her left hand to yellow, Spencer's hand next to hers on green. Her hair obstructs some of the view of the colored circles beneath them but the look of Spencer's flexed, muscular forearm on the side of her head does little to ease her rapidly beating heart. His breath is hot on the nape of her neck, coiling a heat in her middle she desperately attempts to push down.

"I think I enjoy you being under me," he whispers onto the skin of her neck, sending shivers rattling down her spine. As Penelope calls out left hand blue, she racks her gaze around the mat beneath them.

She can practically hear the rush of blood in her ears when she finally sees the blue between her strands of hair. The closet blue dot is down towards her legs, considering her right hand was already on the blue next to her left, requiring her to bend her hips upward. She takes a deep breath and reaches her hand to the spot, her ass rising upward into Spencer's hips.

She can hear the catch of his breath as she tilts upward to get into her position. The next color is called too soon after, resulting in Spencer's right leg moving to the left side of y/n's body, their bodies no longer touching in the way that spooled heat further into her center. Their limbs fight for purchase on different colored spots as the game continues, their teammates shouting at both of them, the game obviously riveting from above, but completely distracting between the two players.

After a few more minutes of twisting her body in ways she never knew she could, her arms trembled as she reached towards a yellow. Refusing to let a man who probably weighed the same as her beat her in a game of Twister, she fought through the shaking of her body and painful stretch of muscles she probably haven't used in years.

She could feel Spencer's body tremble underneath her, placed in almost the same position as before, just on the opposite side this time. "I think I enjoy being on top better," she whispered in the same way Spencer did to her.

His body tensed under hers before he dropped to the floor, crowning y/n the winner of quite literally a battle to exhaustion in a drunk game of Twister.

The women on her team cheered and hugged each other before reaching out a hand to pull her from her spot on the ground in which she collapsed onto right after Spencer did. "That was probably the longest game of Twister in the history of Twister games," Penelope laughed.

Y/n and Spencer plopped onto the couch together, content to watch Penelope and Morgan go against each other from their comfortable spots on the couch. As Emily called out colors and body parts and the teams cheering on their teammates, Spencer leaned over to y/n's ear. "If you're gonna be on top of me I think it'd rather be able to see you."

Her pulse quickened, the heat that as been building inside her since the start of their Twister match is beginning to come to an edge. Get a grip, she chastised herself. They were on vacation with their entire team for crying out loud, now was not the time for flirtatious advancements or sexual tension.

"In your dreams," she murmured, trying to keep the want in her voice caged down, but with the way that Spencer's lips lifted in a smirk told her she didn't do a very good job at it.

"Certainly."

She couldn't get her eyes to leave his face, lowering them to his mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from saying anything stupid.

He noticed her do this and his expression turned hungry as he watched her work her bottom lip between her teeth. It was one of the things that always set him off without her even realizing. Her nervous tic could be taken as flirtatious by someone who doesn't know her. Even though Spencer knows better, it still causes tension inside his pants every damn time she does it.

"If you keep doing that I'm not going to be able to stop myself," he growled lowly.

The sexual tension between y/n and Spencer was almost palpable as the team said their drunken goodnights and stumbled to their respective rooms. Y/n climbed into her bed, pulling the quilt atop her closer to her face. Her thoughts swam, unable to stop them from completely consuming her with thoughts of Spencer - of his body on hers, his breath on her neck, and god damn the stupid comments he made, knowing they were working her up and torturing the hell out of her all night as they continued to play other games with their friends.

Her thoughts fell away, like birds falling out of the sky, as she heard a low sound. She sat up in her bed, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness swallowing her room, in attempt to see what the noise was. Her door opened gently and a figure quietly stepped through the threshold and shut the door behind them, obviously trying not to wake anyone up.

"Hello?" Y/n called out softly, at first she thought it was Penelope, coming to tell her some new gossip she overheard somewhere. But, it wouldn't make any sense of her to sneak in if she thought y/n was asleep. It most definitely wouldn't have been Hotch, Rossi, or Morgan and the only reasonable explanation for any of them to be in her room is if they mistook her door for a bathroom, but she doesn't believe they'd be that quiet about it. Emily was so inebriated she almost didn't make it to her bed by herself.

A nervousness began in her chest as the figure stalked closer to her bed and didn't answer her. Before she could react, lips met hers hungrily. She gasped into their mouth, an opening they took to their advantage as they slipped their tongue between her lips and battled hers for dominance. She supposed that if this was someone trying to kill her, they wouldn't have kissed her first and damn it was a good kiss.

She allowed the kiss to overtake her senses, small moans rising out of her throat as her bottom lip was taken in between teeth and tugged. When her bedroom intruder finally broke their kiss, they were both panting. "I did warn you I wouldn't be able to control myself," the voice growled. Oh.

"Spencer?" Y/n whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Well I wasn't going to wait for you to come to me," he murmured, dipping his head to her neck, trailing sloppy kisses downward to her collarbones. Her fingers tangled into his soft curls, a moan slipping from her lips as he teased her sensitive skin.

"Shh," he shushes her, his voice vibrating through her entire body. "You don't want anyone to hear, do you?"

"Spence..." she whimpered.

His fingers played with the hem of her tank top, only the thin fabric separating him from her breasts.

"I can't get you out of my head and it's been driving me insane," he muttered against her bare skin, his fingers trailing lightly over her exposed lower abdomen, sending goosebumps over her skin. "I can't stop thinking about that pretty little mouth wrapped around me, or the sound of your moans that I coax out of you in every possible way I can, or the sound of you screaming my name as you come."

Y/n feels breathless at his touch, the skin beneath his lips burning with heat. "Are you okay with this?" He asks after y/n's silence.

"Absolutely," she whimpers. "Don't stop, please."

As if that was his undoing, he tears her tank top from her skin, y/n almost unable to raise her arms up in time to get it over. As soon as her tank top is thrown to the floor, his lips latch onto her peaked nipple and a cry of pleasure gathers in her throat but she clamps her lips shut, not wanting to let anyone hear. He continues to work her nipple in his mouth, using tongue and teeth, mixing pain and pleasure.

Her fingers grip his hair tighter, her back arching to bring his mouth as close as it could possibly get to her exposed breasts. Without budging from her nipple, he removes her pants swiftly, gripping her hips with his hands to swing her under him.

Her eyes can just barely make out his face in the dark hovering above her, her body begging for more. She squirms underneath him, hardly able to contain the desire coursing through her blood. His smile turns feral as he realizes just how badly she wants him to keep going.

He lowers himself antagonizingly slow, leaving soft kisses along her naked body until he reaches her inner thighs. He settles himself comfortably in between her legs as she widens them to give him complete access.

He slides his tongue gracefully through her folds and she lets out a gasp. "I've been aching to taste you," he groans against her center, gliding his tongue from the bottom up again. "You taste fucking delicious."

His pace starts out tame as he saviors every whimper that leaves her mouth and the taste of her on his tongue. Another gasp escapes her as he slips a finger in, wasting no time in gently sliding it in and out, curling it upwards to hit her sweet spot just right. She bucks her hips, riding his tongue and finger as her pleasure builds in intensity, her breathing ragged.

Suddenly, his tongue and finger abandon her and she lets out a whine of disappointment. "Someone's needy," he chuckles lowly. "I'd rather make you come with me buried deep inside you."

Spencer quickly undresses himself and gently lines up with her center. He slides the tip through her folds, making her arch her back towards him, her silent plea.

Without hesitation, he slips inside her and releases a groan. "You're so wet for me," he smirks. She can barely see his face, but she knows he has a smug look on it. It's as if he's known how crazy he makes her, how she has fantasized about this very moment before.

His thrust starts out delicate, like he's afraid he's going to break her apart. She wraps her legs around his waist, an attempt to pull him as deep as possible. "Careful," he growls against her neck as he teases her skin once more. "I don't want to let loose just yet and hurt you."

"What if I like it rough?"

"Tell me how you want it, then." A challenge.

"I want you to fuck me dumb."

"Your wish is my command," he smiles against her skin and immediately latches onto her neck, sucking and pulling on her delicate skin. His hands grip her waist to keep her steady as he pounds into her, the sound of his bare thighs hitting hers. He places a hand on her throat and gently squeezes, as if he knows exactly how she likes it.

"Fuck.." Spencer growls, unhooking her legs from his waist with his available hand and using his weight to lift her legs above her head and driving in deep. Y/n claps a hand over her mouth to keep her screams in, her other hand gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles turn white. "You're taking me like such a good girl."

"Fuck, Spencer," she whimpers under her palm.

"Say my name again."

"Spencer..."

"Louder."

"Fuck, Spencer!" She cries as he hits home, her pleasure reaching it's breaking point hastily.

"Open your mouth," he demands. She releases her palm from over her mouth and opens wide, Spencer wasting no time in sticking two fingers on her tongue. She closes her lips around his fingers and slides her tongue over their length. He groans in pleasure as she continues to tease his fingers.

"Come for me."

Those words were her undoing as she falls over the edge, Spencer following her over and her body releasing the pent up desire. Her entire body trembles as ecstasy floods her.

He releases her legs but stays positioned inside her, face hovering just inches above hers. Their panting breaths tangle with each other in the air between them. "You took me like such a good girl," he coos, cupping her cheek gently and rubbing her heated skin with his thumb.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Y/n whispers, trying to control her wildly racing heart.

"Of course."

"I've thought the same things," she confesses, pulling him by the hair to meet her lips again. "And I hope you're not too tired for another round."

An animalistic smile grows on his face as he pauses their kiss, "I'm going to tear you apart."

[bigtreefest]

Take a Stab

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: You and Ari rent a secluded cabin at the lake for your one year anniversary.

Word Count: 2,537

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, protected p in v sex, outdoor sex, praise, secrecy and surprises, coffee sipping, happy crying, mentions of knife usage for whittling, pet names, like one swear

A/N: Ro, thank you for this hot gif. Ari with that sexy lean and the chest hair will never not do something to me. This. This is Ari getting up and making himself a pot of coffee when Duchess doesn’t think he’s awake yet.

As always, a great thank you to everyone who reads. I love your feedback in all forms. 🥰

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ari woke up to the creaking sound of the screen door at the front end of the cabin opening and closing. He immediately turned in the flannel sheets, reaching out for you, only to find your side of the bed still warm, but empty. Had you left something in the car? No way, he remembers checking one last time last night when bringing your bags into the cabin you had rented for the weekend. So what were you doing up when he knew this was a weekend built for sleeping in?

You and Ari were celebrating your one year anniversary together at the lake. Sure, you had your own cabin with gorgeous views, but this was a special occasion. And you didn’t live this close to water. A word to the wise: always take the opportunity to be near a body of water with Ari Levinson. He’ll most likely be shirtless, and that’s an image created by God himself. And definitely don’t turn down the opportunity of a canoe ride sunset picnic, either. The view is gorgeous…

But that was last night, and this is now. You woke up early in the hopes of getting a few minutes to prepare your surprise for him. A gift of true love to show how much you really valued Ari and took note of the meanings of his gestures. This was one you wanted to return: you were whittling him a spoon.

About a month into your relationship, Ari had gifted you one, along with his prized pocket knife over a bonfire in his backyard. He pulled out a block of wood to show you a few different techniques and how to get started, and that was one of the first moments you realized you really just enjoyed being with him. Sharing knowledge. Growing.

At the time, you didn’t know the significance of either of those things: the spoon and the knife. You just thought whittling was a cute little thing he did since he had the time and he had handed the knife over because he wanted you to be prepared since you were newly living in the outdoors. Nearly a year later, now, though, you were finally almost finished with your spoon for him. And Ari was constantly still shopping, looking for a knife like the one he gave you since it was no longer in stock, unbeknownst to you.

You had no idea the level of skill that went into making something as simple, or so you believed, as a spoon. It definitely wasn’t a throwaway gesture. And for him to do it that early into your relationship? You realized how much you’ve meant to him this entire time.

You could tell the knife was special, too, by the way he looked at you when you used it. He loved knowing it was almost always on your person, especially on hikes, and he was always trying to show you how versatile it was.

All that was left were the finishing touches: completing a small little carving of a bear in the handle, and then sanding it. If you played it right, you should be able to finish before Ari gets up. He should be exhausted from all of last night’s….activities still. So you had carefully slipped out of bed, reluctantly leaving his naked warmth, as to not jostle him, grabbed your supplies, and headed out onto the cabin’s wraparound balcony which overlooked the lake. It was a beautiful view, which in a few minutes would host the sunrise.

When Ari woke up in a jolt, he immediately padded through the cabin, looking through the windows to see where your possibly could’ve gone. As he got to the kitchen, halfway to the front door, he was relieved to see your head peeking over the outdoor furniture. Ari breathed out his sigh of relief as he moved around the large island and started to make a pot of coffee. You hadn’t even done that, probably out of fear of waking him, which led him to wonder what you were keeping so secretive.

He pulled down a mug from the cabinet, rinsing and filling it with hot water as the coffee brewed, to get the mug warm, doing the same for yours. He leaned back against the counter as he waited, looking out towards you. The amazing scenery around him didn’t hold a flame to your glow, even coming from someone who had admired nature his entire life. This was a dream vacation for him, but honestly, Ari would’ve visited a garbage dump as long as it was with you.

The front door surprisingly blocked out the loud whirring of the old machine since you didn’t stir as the last drops of coffee sputtered out. Ari poured out the water and filled the mugs, sauntering towards the side door of the cabin to the balcony. If you could be secretive, he could, too. And this door was much quieter.

As Ari rounded the corner of the porch, the high-pitched scratching of sandpaper became louder. He perched himself at the corner, silently setting down your mug and leaning against the railing. He just stood and watched you for another second, the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you were completing a task he was all too familiar with.

You held the spoon in front of you, checking if you missed any spots when you were startled by the sound of slurping coming from your side. You jumped, dropping the spoon when you saw Ari taking a sip of his coffee. The smile that grew on his face when your eyes met took your attention from his nearly nude form. He must’ve slipped shorts on before coming out here. Shame. You were about the same, though, only wearing a fresh shirt you plucked from his duffel on your way out here. Now he had one less clean shirt to wear? Tragic. Guess he was gonna have to find a way to deal. You wouldn’t mind.

Your face mirrored his, beaming in the soft haze of first light, before your face fell when realized what he had walked out to see you doing. You scrambled to pick the spoon up off the deck, tucking it behind your back. You sighed, slumping back in your chair and raising an eyebrow at him.

Ari continued to smirk at you, taking another sip of his coffee before clearing his throat. His voice still held a bit of a deep grumble from how early it was. “Good morning, Duchess. Keeping secrets, are we?”

He gave a light laugh as he grabbed your mug, making his way over to sit next to you. You grabbed your coffee in defeat, taking a big gulp before setting it down next to the knife on the small coffee table and turning to face him. Ari pulled your legs over his in habit as you reached up to stroke his bearded cheek.

“Less of a secret and more of a surprise. I thought you weren’t going to be up yet.” You leaned in to Ari kissing your forehead and pulled away.

Ari set down his mug next to yours and took the opportunity to pull you close, resting his chin on top of your head before pulling away again and leaning in for a proper kiss.

“Kinda hard to sleep when you’re missing…And you’re a loud walker. Zero stealth skills, Angel.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and lightly smacked his chest before reaching a hand behind you.

“I’m sneaky enough to have gotten by for this long. Now do you want your surprise or not?”

Ari knew the drill by this point, closing his eyes and pulling a large hand from its place rubbing your back and holding it out between the two of you as you pulled out the spoon. His one eye cracked open just enough for him to catch a glance at your proud smile before closing it again. He hadn’t gotten a very good look at what exactly you were doing before, so when he felt the curved wood hit his palm, Ari froze with stark, full realization.

His long eyelashes fluttered open just for tears to immediately soak them. He looked down and examined the smooth, freshly sanded wood before looking back up at you. You were immediately struck with worry at his visceral reaction.

“What, did I do something wrong? Are you upset I used your knife for it? Is it that bad? You don’t have to accept it.” You bit your lip in worry as Ari shook his head and ran his thumb over the small, intricate bear engraving in the handle. He could see how much time you put into it.

He quickly pulled the spoon to his chest like he would die if it ever left his grip. “No, it’s perfect. I love it so much. I’m just so…happy. You made this? Just for me?” He was touched beyond belief.

You giggled as tears began to fill your eyes at his reaction. “Yeah, of course I did. It took me way longer than I expected, but now we match.”

Ari nodded and sniffled before pulling you into a tight hug, tucking his face into your neck. You shivered at the vibration against you as he spoke. “God, I love it so much. I love you so much. I can’t believe you made this. Thank you.”

You ran your hands up and down his back in a soothing gesture, moving upward until you were at the nape of his neck. You began running your nails through his hair and Ari pulled away to look at you, deep blue eyes sparkling in the first few rays of the sunrise. He moved to set down the spoon, careful to keep an eye on it before he dragged you to straddle his lap.

“Really, Duchess. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. How long did it take you?”

You continued scratching his head as his eyes closed in satisfaction. “Hmm, about a year. I worked on it on and off. It’s not very easy, especially the little carving.”

Ari hummed. “Yeah, I bet. It’s absolutely amazing. I’ve never tried anything like that but you did great. You put me on it.” He opened his eyes and beamed up at you.

“Of course I did. You’re my sweet Bear. You deserve the same as you give. I love you so much.” You returned the smile and leaned in to kiss him.

Your tongues danced together in a tango of deep, overwhelming desire before pulling away, Ari pulling your hips down tighter against his crotch. You didn’t miss the deepening smirk on his face and the fire filling his eyes. “You know, it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful sunrise. What do you say you and I go up to the railing to watch it together?”

The sunrise was beautiful, painting the sky in pastel strokes of orange, red, and purple. You were enjoying the view, bent at the hips, leaned over the railing, with Ari right behind you, holding you close. Your shirt was hiked up, hanging on your hard nipples as Ari’s shorts hung just low enough for him to have pulled out his cock.

Ari was dragging against your walls in slow, deep strokes, as one hand rubbed your clit in circles in time with his hips and the other gently tweaked a nipple. His head rested on your shoulder, body molded against yours, as he looked out over the lake with you.

Every now and then, Ari turned his head to kiss your neck in the spot just above where it met your shoulder. The one that made you let out those delicious moans every time. He whispered in your ear as your one hand squeezed his forearm over your chest, the other digging into the railing as you braced yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so amazing. So talented. I can tell you worked so hard for me. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You whined and clenched at that, thriving on Ari’s praise and having thought the same about forever before, but never verbalizing it. Ari was it for you and the perfect shared moment proved it. You couldn’t have expected a better reaction to your gift. To have someone just as understanding of the little things as you was soothing to your soul. To have someone who carried their gestures with the same weight was one in billions and you couldn’t believe you found him.

You threw your head back against Ari’s shoulder, whimpering between heavy breaths. “So good, I-hmmm- I love you, Bear.”

You felt Ari’s chest rumble as he moaned against you, picking up his pace and grunting near your ear, captivated by the way the sun was hitting both of you, lighting up the heavenly moment. “Ah, I love you more, Angel. You’re so good to me. So sweet.“

He rubbed your clit faster, both of you rising towards your peak with the sun that was nearly cresting the horizon, almost fully in the sky. Your eyes squeezed shut before Ari looked over and caught it, taking his hand off your clit. “Ah ah ah, eyes open. Don’t wanna miss this moment.”

You forced your eyelids apart and looked over at Ari, a thin sheet of sweat causing some of his hair to stick to his forehead. The golden light was highlighting his features and weaving through his beard gorgeously. He was right, you wouldn’t have forgiven yourself for missing out on this view. He put his hand back on your clit and rubbed in furious circles, leaning in to kiss you harder, sloppier. When he pulled away, he softly smiled at you and spoke through red kiss-soaked lips. “Good girl.”

His warm breaths hit your cheek as your smile mixed with your blissed-out face. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed harder. You could feel yourself getting close as Ari’s thrusts became uneven. “Please. Please, Ari. Give it to me. Come with me.”

Your words set him off as Ari spilled into the condom within your tightening walls. He continued rubbing your clit and shuddering in response to your rhythmic squeezing against him as you leaned more of your weight into the railing, gasping for air after your release. Ari placed a kiss against your shoulder as he gingerly pulled out. He rested his forehead between your shoulder blades before quickly running inside to dispose of the condom and refresh your coffees.

When he came back out, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back close to his front and kissing you cheek. You turned and smiled up at him, nestling in closer, enjoying the view of the brightened trees and reflective water, surrounded by Ari, nature, and nothing else for miles.

Ari’s eyes twinkled when he caught your gaze again and held it. “This is the most amazing day ever already, Duchess.” He kissed your forehead. Neither of you had even been up for an hour yet, but you agreed that there’s not much else that could make it any better.

“Absolutely perfect, Bear.”

Bonus A/N: Whittling a spoon for someone is like, a HUGE sign of love. That PAIRED WITH giving over your prized knife? Y’all can deduce what that means. And yes, I do have a spoon whittled, waiting for the right day… what about it??

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

@jamneuromain

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[writersblog20]

Sunflower 🌻

Pedro Pascal x reader

Credits to the gif maker!!!

Summary: When your hot neighbor, Pedro Pascal, forgot to close his curtains while he was pleasing himself, you caught him. You feared the worst but maybe it was for the best that your parents were away for a while

Warnings: SMUT, mention of spying, The reader is still a virgin. Age-gap (reader is in the mid-twenties), P in V, no condom (don’t do it, please), jerking off, slight voyeurism, mention of panic attack, Fingering, overstimulation, a bit of dark Pedro in the beginning, reader is slightly naïve, unexperienced reader, squirting, chocking, calling Pedro daddy, oral Female receiving, blowjob, creampie, daddy issues if you squint, Pedro GUIDES the reader through it, a bit of DD/Lg vibes, Dom/sub dynamic, dirty talk, and I think that’s it

Words: 4,8K

Sunflower🌻

Pedro was your hot neighbor, who you had a crush on before the famous actor even  moved across from you. It was a well preserved neighborhood and your parents were good friends with Pedro, much to your annoyance. You see, there were so many countless of nights were you would stay up, reading smut about your favorite neighbor, watch them edits and mostly, losing count on how much you’ve touched yourself thinking it was him. You watched all of his movies and series that he was in and now you were following him in the Last of us and god did your crush grew ten folded when you watched him in that show.  

You were in your mid-twenties and still a virgin. Yeah, you chose to have it that way. Waiting for the right person and the moment you saw Pedro, you knew he was the one you wanted to give it to. Your room had, obviously, a window but sometimes, if you were lucky, you could see Pedro in his own house. You lost count at how many times you’ve spied on your neighbor but you really couldn’t help yourself even though that you knew it wasn’t okay.

Your parents were on vacation and had asked Pedro to keep a close eye on you and that if there was something going on, you could go to him. You were currently bored out of your mind and thinking about what to do. You listened to some music in your room, staring at the ceiling. “What would Pedro do right now?” you wondered to yourself when you turned your head to look at the window. You were thinking about it and curiosity got the better of you when you stood up. You looked out of your window and your eyes got bigger at the sight. Pedro sat in his chair, his head slowly tilted backwards while his hand softly stroke his cock.

Your breath hitched but you couldn’t look away. You were so lost in a trance at how absolutely gorgeous this man looked, how the warm light hit his face, his large hands caressing his huge cock and how his lips slightly parted. His eyes were closed and it almost looked angelic. You felt the familiar heat spread down and you slowly placed your hand in your panties, underneath your flower dress. Pedro’s eyes slowly opened, looking at the screen in front of him. You were curious to what he was watching. What porn category he would search for.

You were so caught up at your own feeling and the image in front of you, that it didn’t click in your head when Pedro’s head turned towards your window. You made eye contact with the brown eyed man and that was when it hit you. He could obviously fucking see you, knowing that you were watching him. You quickly moved away from your window, your heartbeat pounding against your chest as panic took slightly over. My god, he caught you. How the fuck are you ever going to face him again. You felt flustered, bothered and panicked. You didn’t know what to do right now than to just stand there, thinking about what to do. You had no idea how long you stood there when you peeked around the corner so you could look out of your window again. You saw that the laptop was still opened, the light illuminating to the chair that Pedro sat in, minutes ago but he wasn’t there anymore.

Panic took over your entire body. You stared in front of you until you heard your doorbell. You freezed on the spot. It felt like you had an entire black out, adrenaline shooting through your body and you moved towards your livingroom without thinking. Your body was acting on itself and you opened the door, seeing Pedro standing in front of you. His cheeks a little pink while he ran his hand through his hair. You both didn’t say anything, feeling extremely awkward. “I wanted to check up on you and see how you were doing.” He spoke up, ignoring the fact that you caught him and he caught you.

You nodded and forced out a smile as you stood to the side, letting him in. He walked past you with a soft smile and sat on one of the chairs. “Eh, do you maybe want something to drink?” you asked him, trying to act like nothing happened. Pedro smiled softly, unable to make eye contact with you. “Could I have a glass of water?” you nodded and your body acted on itself, moving you to the kitchen, Pedro watching you closely.

Your hands were shaking while you gave him a glass of water. You got one beer for yourself, hoping that it would calm your nerves. Pedro watched your shaky hands when you took a sip from the bottle. It was unbearably silent at the moment and it had almost send you in a panic attack until Pedro broke the silence with a question. “So how are you doing?” he asked you and looked into your eyes. “Good, yeah I’m doing okay. I like the peace.” You told him, shifting uncomfortably in your seat since you were still very horny.

Pedro knew about your not so secret crush on him and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like you that way either. You were so good and so pure, it absolutely drove him insane. He too, lost count of how many times he fantasized about you when he would touch himself, imagining it was you.

The air around you thickened and Pedro nodded when you answered that question and it became silent again. Both of you knew that it had to be addressed if you wanted to get the tension out of the air. “I’m sorry.” Pedro said uncomfortably while he scratched his neck. You looked up and felt panic float through your body besides, you felt nervous as hell around him let alone right now. “I’m sorry that you saw me. I should’ve closed the curtains… I hope we’re still okay?” he asked you softly and at the last part, he looked at you. The heat started to spread across your cheeks while you fumbled with the sticker of the beer bottle.

You nodded, unable to speak at all. His hand covered yours that was playing with the sticker so he could get your entire attention. You looked at his hand, covering yours before looking at Pedro, who was staring at you. Your heart started to beat faster and faster. You carefully turned your hand and started playing with his fingers, images of earlier that night flashed through your mind as it was the same hand that he touched himself with. Pedro looked down at your hand and then back to your eyes. He was surprised to say the least when you tried to make a move.

Pedro knew it was wrong but it felt so incredibly right that he couldn’t bare to stop you even though you were just playing with his fingers. The physical contact you made started to tightened his pants again. He didn’t want to admit it but when he caught you watching, was the only thing to send him over the edge and came hard. And all you had to do for that was just look at him.

Pedro let out a sigh when he thought about that exact moment. “What were you watching?” you couldn’t help but feel bold when curiosity stroked. You had an idea where this boldness came from and that was because you wanted that man and you wanted him now. “What?” you took Pedro complete by surprise. He wasn’t used to you being this bold. He knew you as the shy, innocent girl. Not that he complained but it started to get harder to fight his feelings for you.

“What were you watching when I caught you?” you asked him again. You looked at your hand that played with Pedro’s. Your hand looked so small compared to his. Pedro slowly took his hand away from you. “I eh…. I ehm..”  Pedro swallowed thickly, almost unable to breath. You felt a pang in your heart when he took his hand away from you. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise! I’m just…. Curious.” You told him, feeling shy again. Pedro looked into your eyes and he had a strict look as if you crossed the line. “Just curious?” his voice was stern.

You started to panic, feeling you ruined everything with him and let your head down. You were staring at your Dr. Martens boots. “You really want to know?” his voice turned slightly darker as he placed a finger underneath your chin, making you look up. “Do you?” you stayed silent but nodded, your eyes big at the upcoming revelation. Pedro nodded. “I mostly watch neighbor things, daughter of my best friend and stuff...” You eyes bigger at his confession while he took in every feature on your face. Pedro placed his hand carefully on your bare leg, making you jump at the sudden contact. Pedro lifted his hand quickly when you jumped before slowly putting it back on your leg, drawing circles with his thumb.

“Your turn, princess.” He told you, making you look up in confusion. “come on now. If we’re going to be honest, than be honest. I know you watch porn. What do you search sweetheart?” His hand carefully went up your leg underneath your dress. You felt yourself pulsing from  the heat. “Ehm… I watch… a lot of daddy stuff….” You confessed, not wanting to tell him more. “Do you now?” you nodded “And maybe some neighbor stuff as well.” you felt your cheeks heat completely up as you nodded, looking how his hand disappeared underneath your short dress.

“I know you have a crush on me.” he told you while looking intently into your eyes. It felt like you couldn’t breath anymore as the air kept getting tighter around the two of you. His fingers squeezed your leg, making you let out a moan. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand. “You like this?” he asked you, his hands getting towards your heat. You quickly nodded “I need to hear your voice Chiquita.” You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry from nerves. “I do daddy.” Pedro smirked, his finger going over your clit. There was already a wet patch on your panties, getting a groan out from Pedro.

“You are dripping through your panties sweetheart.” You moaned when his fingers picked up the pace. You covered his hand that was underneath your dress so his hand would stay there. “Yeah? You like that?” he asked you, making you nod again while you tried to gasp for air. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on my lap sweetheart?” he told you, his hand leaving your panty and placed both of his hands on your waist, making you stand up. The moment you did, he took your body completely in without shame. He pulled you closer and made you sit on his lap sideways. He looked down your body, his hand rubbing your leg and pulled your dress a bit up.

Pedro kissed your shoulder, his beard scraping your skin. You couldn’t wait longer and started to move your hips. “Oh baby, you are a needy little girl aren’t you?” You hummed, your hand over his again and guided him to your heat. Pedro smirked “You like it when I do this?” he asked you, his fingers over your clit again, your whole body reacting to it as if it got a shock. Pedro chuckled at how much your body gave you away. Your whole body tensed, making you grip his wrist harder. His fingers going faster while his other hand grabbed your chin, making you look at him. “Look at me.” he commanded. You couldn’t help but move your hips on his lap, feeling his cock grow harder underneath you.

Pedro looked deep into your eyes and you immediately felt more intimidated. You stared at his lips, desperate to kiss him. you moved forward to kiss him but Pedro pulled back. “No. You wait like a good girl. Only good girls get what they want. Do you understand?” you nodded but Pedro shook his head. “Use your voice, young lady.” You swallowed again, his hand went from your holding your chin towards your neck. You felt a pit in your stomach. “I understand! I understand!” you quickly said, almost beggingly as you grew closer to your orgasm.

“From now on, you address me as daddy or papi. Are we clear on that sweetheart?” Pedro’s voice was cold and unbothered while you squirmed on his lap, begging to come. “Yes! I understand daddy! Please, please can I cum daddy?” You cried out. This was the first time that Pedro didn’t sound stern anymore. He wanted you so bad that started to lose control. His breath shaky while his fingers put pressure on your clit over your panties and picked up the pace. “Go ahead sweet girl. Cum for me” he told you and as on que your whole body started to shake. Pedro let go of your neck and held your body tightly against yours while your limbs were shaking. “That’s it, just like that baby girl.” He cooed in a soft, loving voice, making your orgasm even more explosive.

Your eyes met Pedro’s and his eyes held so much softness and adoration in them that it made you weak to your knees. Pedro came closer and closed the gap between the two of you in a hungry, passionate kiss. You felt his tongue slide in while his hand caressed your cheek. You got out of the kiss, making Pedro look confused at you. You stood up and got completely in his lap so you were chest to chest. His hands found your waist. Pedro looked at your body, his hand caressing your leg, slowly moving up to your upper leg, just rubbing them. He loved how soft and delicate your skin was underneath his hands. His hands underneath your dress, holding you by your waist and pulled you in the kiss again.

Hungrily you discovered each other’s mouth. Pedro started to move your hips and you quickly took over, grinding on his lap. Pedro groaned in the kiss, sending goosebumps over your body. His fingers dug into your skin and his lips moved towards your cheek to your neck. Even more electricity came over you when his lips touched your neck, turning you on to the point of crazy. You grinded more aggressively on his lap and dick for at least some friction. Pedro’s hands went to your ass, squeezing them tightly, making you moan out. Your hands went through his hair while you pulled him closer to you. Your hips moving even more violent than before. “Are you going to come again?” he asked you. “Yes daddy” you cried out and Pedro chuckled because of how desperate you sounded. And not to find it funny how desperate you were for him but because it felt like his heart was going to give out from all the love he held for you.

“That’s it, you can cum whenever you’re ready baby girl.” He quickly placed his fingers over your panties again and rubbed your clit. You cried as your whole body started to shake. “There you go baby, let it go sweetheart. Let it go.” He guided you while your rested your head against his shoulder. His dick was fully hard by now and he could just cum without touching himself at the way you came on his lap.

“Show me your room, mi amor.” You stood up but your legs almost gave out. Pedro held you tightly. You looked at his lap and your orgasm dripped though your panties on his pants, leaving a wet patch and it was the hottest thing ever. You walked towards your room. You laid down on the bed and Pedro hang above you, kissing you even more. You couldn’t get enough of his lips while you held his cheeks with your palm. Pedro grinded against you, both moaning. You got out of the kiss, Pedro awaited what you were going to do. You rested your head to the side and was in thought. Pedro was confused, his eyebrows knotted a bit together as worry washed over him.

“Hey, hey? Are you okay sweetheart?” you nodded but was apprehensive to what you were going to confess. “Pedro…. I.. I’m still a virgin.” Pedro looked shocked at you and created a bit of distance between the two of you. That was the last thing you wanted so you grabbed him by his cardigan. “No. No, I want you to have it.” Pedro’s eyes softened. “Sweetheart… You shouldn’t give it to me.” You violently shook your head, completely disagreeing with him now. “No, I’ve always wanted you to have it. I don’t want to give it to anyone else. I really don’t.” Pedro looked at you contemplating. “Are you sure?” he asked you and softly cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb softly over your skin.

You nodded and Pedro slowly started nodding as well, giving in to your wishes. “Besides, you told me good girls get what they want. I’m a good girl daddy. I promise.” Pedro chuckled a little, giving completely in. “You’re right. You are a good girl.” Pedro kissed you softly. “So… you’ve never done anything with anyone?” he asked you and you shook your head. “You’ve never…. Sucked somebody off?” you shook your head again. “So no one has ever shown you how it is to be eaten out?” he asked you, sympathy glazed his voice while his fingers touched your pussy again. You gasped slightly and shook your head.

“Would you like to know how it feels?” he asked you with a loving smile on his face. You nodded and Pedro closed the gap again, kissing you. This time it was soft and passionately. He went over your neck with his lips towards your collarbone. His hands over your leg again before he sat up and got into position, his hands over your dress, moving it up. His hands going over your thigh, giving another shockwave over your body. Pedro smiled at the way your body reacted to his touch. His hands reached your panties and pulled them slightly down. You pushed your hips up so he could take your panties off.

Pedro slowly spread your legs and gave you another glance, wanting your permission again. Your breathing was heavy as you quickly nodded. Pedro started to kiss the insides of your thigh, slowly making his way up while remaining eye contact with you. His beard scratched your skin in the best possible way. Pedro took a long lick over your folds and you let your head fall back on the pillow. His eyes never leaving yours, taking in every feature. His arms wrapped around your legs, keeping them spread while he started to eat you out. You gasped at the sudden overwhelming pleasure. Your hand automatically grabbed his hair, tucking it a bit, earning a growl from Pedro, who started working on your clit now.

You were absolutely dripping right now. The sounds your pussy and Pedro made should be illegal but you were glad it wasn’t. Pedro teased your entrance with his finger while sucking on your clit. Pedro made eye contact with you again and slid his finger inside your pussy. You gasped and clenched on his finger, earning a couple of other growls. God you felt so good on his finger that he was afraid that he wasn’t going to last long when he would be inside of you. Pedro carefully started pumping his finger inside of you and the familiar feeling came back but as soon as Pedro curled his finger inside of you, another pleasurable feeling washed over you that you didn’t recognized.

You grabbed Pedro’s wrist again and tried to hold back whatever that feeling was. “Feels good doesn’t it princesa? Don’t hold it back sweetheart. I’m right here with you. Nothing bad ‘s going to happen. Let it go.” He comforted you through it. Pedro started to messily eat you out, sending another shockwave. “Daddy..” you moaned out, your eyebrows knitted together and eyes tightly shut in a pained expression even though it was everything but pain. Even if you wanted to hold back that feeling, you just couldn’t hold it back anymore and started to squirt while Pedro continued to eat you out. Your whole body tense as Pedro still held tightly to your legs to keep them spread. You gasped for air and saw that Pedro cleaned his face from all the juices. He grinned at you and took his cardigan and shirt off, hanging above you again. His hands softly going over your cheek. “That felt good didn’t it?” you nodded, still questioning what just happened. And as if Pedro could read your mind, he answered the question that lingered in your mind “You just squirted baby girl.” He smiled and kissed you lovingly.

“Can I ehh…” You rubbed his cock over his pants. Pedro looked down and back to you. “You can do whatever you want to baby.” this man got you all flustered with his words. Pedro sat up and so did you. You carefully undid his pants, looking at Pedro who was awaiting your next move. You reached into his pants and took his cock out. It was so big compared to your hand already and you swallowed thickly. Pedro let out a moan when you stroked his cock slightly. You placed your hands on his chest and laid him down on his back. You started to lick his shaft and Pedro let out a shaky breath. You’ve never done this before but you’ve seen some things so you tried that just out.

You tried to take him all in but that was a failed mission before you even started. You gagged on his cock while your hand jerked off what you couldn’t put in your mouth. You slobbered over his dick and Pedro shamelessly moaned out, turning you on even more. “God baby.” he moaned out. “This really the first time you’d done this?” he was surprised at your amazing skills as your hand even caressed his balls. You got his dick out of your mouth with a perfect plop and nodded before continuing. “My god you’re really good at this. Fuck baby.” Pedro held your hair back and couldn’t help but thrust into your mouth, making you gag but took in everything he gave you.

“I can’t wait anymore. If you keep doing this, I’m going to cum in no time.” He told you when he took you off his cock. He sat up and took your dress off from your body. his hands discovering your skin before he took your bra off as well. “God, you’re gorgeous” he admired your body before his lips found your neck again, kissing and sucking on it. You moaned out again and his finger played with your clit again. He went from your neck to your breast, squeezing them and sucking on your nipple. Excitement grew in your stomach again, spreading another heatwave towards your pussy while he sucked on your nipple. He knew how much you liked it when he did this by the way you moaned above him.

Pedro laid you down on your back again and spread your legs before laying between them. “You’re really sure of this?” he asked you again, making you nod and pulled him down for a kiss again. You pushed your hips up, grinding your wet pussy over his dick. Pedro felt himself grow weak already at the way you felt over his cock. Pedro groaned and took his cock in his hand and guided it to your entrance, looking at you again to see if you were in any pain. He carefully pushed the tip in and you moaned out loudly when Pedro groaned as well. You felt pain shooting through you.

Pedro waited until you were able to take more. A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, which Pedro obviously noticed. “Hey sshhh it’s okay. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop okay?” You nodded “Do you want me to stop?” this time you shook your head and Pedro softly left kisses over your face. He let out a shaky breath, he had to gather all of his energy to not to pound you out completely right now.

“It’s okay…” you told him and Pedro pushed more in, he wasn’t even halfway in and you stopped him again. He waited until you were ready again and sucked your nipple, making you clench on his cock. He pulled his hips back before he slowly entered you again. Not pushing anymore in but for friction. Your hands were on his back, your nails digging into his skin. “More please” you murmured out but loud enough for Pedro to hear you. He pushed his cock in and collapsed on you for a moment. “You feel so good on my cock. Like you were made just for me princesa.” You moaned out, wanting more friction so you moved your hips eagerly and Pedro looked down how you grinded your pussy on his dick.

“Please fuck me daddy.” He could just cum right then and there but he needed to last longer for you while you kept grinding. Pedro got out of you, making you feel confused. Pedro laid down on his back and hinted for you to come over to him. “Why don’t you ride daddy, baby. I know how you use those hips.” He told you and helped you up on his cock. You slowly slid down on his cock but you couldn’t take all of him in yet. You slowly moved up and down, Pedro’s hands on your hips, guiding you. “There you go baby. You’re doing so good for daddy.” Pedro murmured out while he let his head fall down.

You wanted to take him all in just for him. Be the good girl that he want. When you slid his dick completely in, he looked at you in surprise but the feeling caught up too fast with him and he moaned out. Your pussy was gripping his cock for dear life “oh you’re such a good girl.” He cried out and you slowly grinded on his cock. His fingers dug into your skin and you were sure it was going to leave a mark later.

After a couple of minutes of you grinding on his cock, he couldn’t take it anymore. “My god, I’ve got to fuck you baby. I’m so close.” He told you and laid you down on your back. He pushed your legs a bit up and entered you again, both moaning out at the feeling. He started to fuck you and you grabbed his hand, putting it around your throat so he could choke you. He carefully squeezed your throat while he started fucking you harder, his thumb rubbing on your clit. You were shaking again, you were so overstimulated that you really didn’t know if you had another orgasm in you.

His cock hit your g-spot perfectly and your pussy was making a lot of wet noises again. “Oh I make you feel good too don’t I, baby girl?” you nodded while he fastened his pace on your clit. “That’s it. Be a good girl and cum for daddy. Let go, remember?” he asked you again but  you were unable to respond as the euphory took over. You clenched his cock so hard that he fell through his knees. “I’m going to cum too.” He announced, wanting to get out of you but you pulled him back quickly. “No, please cum in me. It’s okay. Please I need it daddy, I need your cum.” Pedro couldn’t hold back anymore and you felt something warm fill you up while Pedro let out some grumbles and groans. You could feel him twitch inside of you.

Pedro tried to regain his breathing back and carefully got out of you, making you both moan out. He laid down on his side, facing you. “Are you okay sweetheart?” he asked you, cupping your cheek. You smiled and kissed him. “Yeah very much so.” Pedro smiled lovingly as well. He looked at you, completely mesmerized. He carefully went with his hand over your hair. You turned over as well and placed your arm around him, wanting him closer. “Can you stay with me tonight?” you asked him hopeful. Pedro smiled and kissed your nose. “Of course I will.” You smiled and shyly hid your face against his chest.

[disneyprincemuke]

where the fun begins, 2 * ls2 (ms47)

it’s friday: logan throws the party he’s claims he’s having just for you to come around, not even knowing if you’ll be attending

pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader

notes: um im on my phone in school i dont have a word count and neither did i plan on making this this long… sry guys uwu hope u like it (i’m desperately running out of logan gifs pls help me)

biggest thanks to @angsthology for helping me out with the white man fight and smug logan because i couldnt, for the life of me, figure that scene out so thank yew baby :*

(f1 masterlist)

| one | two | three | four |

friday rolls around, two days since logan had seen you in the bowling alley with another guy. he also spent the last two days organising a party, completely last minute, sending the entire house into a frenzy to set it in stone.

typically, parties are structured and planned at least two weeks ahead of time. but this time is different.

he can't ignore the frustration that clouds his thoughts when he thinks of that night. or you, in general. all he sees is you wrapped around someone else's arms.

he's been watching the door for the past hour, curious if you had taken him up on his invitation. it's been two hours since the start of the party, and logan knows damn well that word has gotten around about their open house party.

it should have been invitational only, as they usually host their parties. but it's way too last minute to make it an exclusive party. so, they made sure word got around.

he knows that you know what time the party starts. because mick's friends have already made their way into the frat house, drowning in alcohol and pressed up against girls on the dance floor. he only wonders if you would ever come by.

logan folds his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he watches the crowd pour into the dimly lit home. he turns to oscar. "see? i told you i could pull it off."

oscar stops next to him, hands in his pockets. "i got to say – this is the most effort i've seen you put in a girl," oscar teases, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes. "you must really like her."

"i just don't like losing," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "especially not to some loser like the guy she's with."

losing? no, he is jealous. but he would rather abolish this entire party as a whole than admit that to anybody.

"schumacher?" oscar laughs, throwing his head back. "he's not even a loser, mate. have you even talked to him?"

"whose side are you on, dude?" logan frowns, throwing his arms in the air. "there is a wrong answer to this question."

oscar rolls his eyes and punches logan. objectively speaking, he is on mick's side; for your sake. but in a friend perspective, he’ll always be on logan’s side. but even he can admit logan’s a bit of a dick sometimes.

"whatever, dude." he smiles to himself, watching liam open the door to let another crowd in. "it's a very well-put-together party. i'm surprised. where did you get the keg on such short notice?"

logan has this shit-eating grin on his face, one that oscar desperately wants to wipe off. but he can only step back and watch the downfall of all his antics. it's funnier that way.

"frederik knows a guy."

oscar raises an eyebrow. "alright, mate." he pats logan on the back. "liam’s hosting the beer pong. let’s go?”

logan shakes his head, staring at the door with his arms folded over his chest. “later.”

“staring at the door won’t increase the chances of her coming,” oscar hums proudly, patting him on the back. he pushes him through the crowd of college students and massages his shoulder as he tries to find where liam had set up the table. "and anyway, they're coming after pre-drinks."

logan stops in his tracks. "how do you know that?"

oscar steps back with a smirk. "lily told me. did i not update you on that?" he sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "must have slipped my mind."

he knew, since the night logan plotted this party, that you and your friends would be pre-drinking before coming here. another reason you're apparently dragging your feet here is for lily – not wanting her to be alone in a frat house.

as honest of a guy oscar tries to keep himself, it doesn't remove suspicion from him trying to take advantage of her. understandable and respectable. so he told you to take your time.

"dude!" logan scowls, shoving oscar back. "that's vital information you should have told me ages ago! i've watched the door like a fucking hawk all night waiting to see if she's coming."

"it's funnier this way," oscar giggles. "also, it's because i'm dating lily."

"you're what? since when? why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"way before you started seeing her. but you're focused on the wrong thing, mate."

"i doubt that, actually."

"oi, beer pong bitches!" liam screams, his hands cupped over his mouth as he beckons for the pair to approach him. he's knelt on a bar stool to catch their attention in the crowd. "logan is up first for the public versus the house."

logan chuckles, slowly making his way towards the beer pong table once more. "are you sure? i'm undefeated, mate," he turns to his friends, "you'll never get your turn if i'm up first."

frederik grins, gesturing towards the rows of red cups filled with sizzling cheap beer. "we wanna see how long you last."

oscar giggles, patting his back. "revenge for making us scramble to put together this party at such short notice."

"and anyway," liam laughs breathily, stumbling into logan's body. he takes a sip from the red cup in his hand. "we have another table for the casual games by the pool."

"and i don't get to play at that table? how rude," logan scoffs, stepping towards the table. he spreads his arms out as he looks around the crowd. "any takers?"

there are a couple who try taking logan down in his own game of beer pong. but as someone who's always in attendance at every party on campus, he's simply mastered the game – how to distract his opponents when he's losing, how to throw them off the game, and how to hit the ball into the cups.

he's figured it all out.

the games pass by very quick, and logan only drinks a couple of cups out of the 6 opponents that are brave enough to step up to the challenge.

"seriously?" logan giggles, slightly intoxicated from the beer. he watches the previous guy walking away, greeted by his group of friends and consolations for a 'nice try'. but logan knows it wasn't a good try. he didn't have a fighting chance at beating him. "where's the real challenge?"

"i could probably beat you."

he hears a chorus of 'oh's from his own friends crowded behind him, lifting his head to meet a pair of blue ones. he sees you first, hands on someone else's body and an arm wrapped around your shoulders. his eyes land on mick, smugly grinning at him with a hand inside the pocket of his jacket nonchalantly.

"yo, isn't that-"

"liam, read the room."

logan doesn't notice lily threading the edge of the makeshift circle over to his side, greeting oscar with a smile. he tilts his head at mick. "you think you can beat me? i'm undefeated, bro."

he sees you whispering something at mick, swatting at him with a small smile. logan knows that look: the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara under your eyes. you'd drunk a little too much during your pre-drinks.

and so do you with logan: the heaving, permanent sly lazy grin and slumped shoulders. you even notice the way he's already slurring at his words.

"mick, should you really be entertaining this?"

mick smiles down at you, squeezing you with a soft shake. "just a bit of fun. we're at a party after all. i'll keep it friendly."

"i know you will. but will he?"

"trust me?"

you tilt your head and lift an eyebrow. you sigh with a small smile, "fine."

"asking for permission?" logan scoffs. "what are you, scared?"

mick scrunches his nose, lifting his hands from you. "no, mate. reassuring her," he smiles. he slowly tears his jacket off of his arms.

logan clenches his jaw at the sheer audacity when mick turns around and hands you his jacket. he feels a wave of anger, something he's never felt before, rising in his chest when mick leans down and presses a quick kiss to your red cheeks.

this might just be jealousy. but it's an emotion so foreign to logan that he doesn't even notice it. in his head, he's just mad that he's lost you to this guy.

someone rumoured to have gotten into the school through his dad’s connections.

"you sure you wanna embarrass yourself in front of her?" logan asks sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip. "one more chance to back out, schumacher."

mick shrugs and steps towards logan. "all in, mate."

"just making sure you don't embarrass your little girlfriend," logan grins, craning his neck slightly and squints his eyes down at you. "you don't want everyone to see him lose to me, do you? you should advise him otherwise."

you don't even get a chance to react before mick steps into logan's line of vision to you. "don't bring her into this."

logan scoffs, eyeing mick up and down. he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. "huh?"

"let's keep this friendly?" mick smiles. he extends his hand towards logan.

logan's gaze trails to the hand held out in front of him. he chuckles dryly before turning away, earning another chorus of gasps and shocked whispers around him, walking over to his side of the table. "you know how to play beer pong, don't you?"

mick purses his lips together, retracting his arm before padding over to his spot. "yeah."

liam looks between them, drunkenly filling up the new set of cups with beer. the kiwi can only hope that they keep talking so that he doesn't have to rush with the cups.

"i can teach you if you'd like."

"no, i think i can handle myself."

"alrighty," liam stands, clasping his hands together. "enough yapping. play the stupid game, you guys. it's just beer pong."

logan remembers a time when you used to be in this crowd. cheering for him instead of some random guy you met in one of your classes. you should be on the other side of the crowd next to oscar and arthur.

logan doesn’t do great with losing. if that hasn’t been implied, he doesn’t know any other way to show it.

mick crosses his arms over his torso. “make a shot, reigning champ.”

“i can be generous,” logan scrunches his nose, pressing his lips together. “guests first.”

the boy across the table shrugs. the game doesn’t go by as fast as the previous ones that logan plays. mick was actually true to his word, knowing how to play the game.

logan’s drank more cups than he’s ever in the entirety of the evening. he has to take a couple of deep breaths, staring down at the table when mick hits the ball into the last cup on his side.

he lost. he… lost? how is that possible?

“good game,” mick smiles with a polite nod across the table.

logan scans the table, taking his last cup into his hand. he hadn’t even stood a chance against mick. he still had more than half his set on the table.

mick swiftly turns around, ready to approach you when logan speaks. “one more?”

“mate-“

oscar taps liam on the shoulder, his one arm around lily’s shoulders, and grins. “no, let him do what he wants,” he glances at lily, who is smiling back at him, “i wanna see how this goes.”

“he’s gonna get himself into a fight, oscar,” liam mutters, pointing at logan. “you know him.”

“let him,” oscar shrugs. “he’s an adult — he knows what he’s getting into.”

“one more?” mick asks, halfway towards you. “are you sure?”

“yeah. best of three?”

“logan,” frederik calls out, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. “mate. he beat you fair and square.”

“no, it’s alright,” mick smiles. “no hard feelings.”

“very hard feelings,” logan mutters to himself, reaching to the side to open a beer can to replenish everything himself. “you stole my girlfriend.”

liam quickly takes over logan, swatting his hands away as he fills one cup sloppily with half of the liquid trickling down the side.

the next game goes by even quicker than before, the entire duration flashing right in front of logan’s eyes. he’s lost again. at least, it was closer this time. it was tied down to one last cup. mick simply played his shot better.

in normal circumstances, maybe logan would have just taken the loss as one would. but this is mick we’re talking about. logan will be anything but diplomatic about it.

“you had me nervous for a moment there!” you giggle. you move your arm out to avoid spilling the cocktail that frederik very graciously mixed for you during the game. “i thought you were going to have to play the third round.”

mick laughs breathily, blinking rapidly with a hand on his chest. “me too. i’m filled with alcohol,” he laughs, sweeping you into his arms. he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, lifting you slightly from the ground. “let’s go whenever you want to?”

“aw, mate,” frederik sighs, heading over to mick. “house rules: the winner stays until defeated.”

“no way,” you whine, jokingly tearing frederik’s hands from mick. “i wanna head to the bar and get another drink with him!”

“fuck this,” logan mutters, throwing the racket down on the table. he snatches the last cup on the table and glances over at you excitedly bouncing as mick swept you up into his arms.

he rolls his eyes, whirling around and heading towards the backyard of the house.

mick hums as you engage in a conversation with frederik, his hand still on your waist. “um, hold on,” he whispers, tapping you gently. “i’ll go check on him. he looks mad.”

you tug on his shirt. “no, he’ll be okay. he’s just a sore loser, mick.”

he laughs, shaking his head as he detaches himself from your grasp. “i just wanna ask him if he’s okay. i’ll meet you guys at the bar.”

you hum hesitantly, letting go of his hands finger by finger. frederik nudges you in the direction of the bar where oscar and lily are already walking towards.

mick steps out into the backyard, hopeful to find the blonde that turned his back on them. while he didn’t frequent petty fights, logan’s reactions are just very entertaining to him. all because he had failed to appreciate your presence when he was blessed with it and mick stepped up to take you out on a date.

and when he was hearing whispers about logan remaining undefeated at the beer pong table, he took up on the chances. perhaps the alcohol made him feel slightly competitive.

he’s ashamed to admit that he let his ego get the best of him and that’s why he stepped up to logan’s challenge.

“mate,” mick announces his presence, slowly approaching logan sitting on one of the sun beds by the pool. “i hope you didn’t take the game to heart.”

“fuck off,” logan mutters, dropping his head low. he picks at the grass under the bed and clenches his jaw. “what are you doing here anyway? shouldn’t you be celebrating with your girlfriend?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.” logan looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “yet.”

“seriously, what’s your deal? have you just come here to parade in my face that you got the girl or something?” logan pushes himself up to his feet. “i get it, man.”

mick sighs. “no. i was checking on you. you look like you had too much to drink there.”

“i don’t need you babysitting me,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “i’m a grown adult.”

“do you need some water? i don’t imagine you feel so good after chugging that much beer,” mick mutters under his breath. “you should really sit down.”

“don’t act like you care.”

“logan,” mick sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to let his frustration pass. “iced or room temp water?”

logan rolls his eyes. “stop acting all saint-like, man. i know you wanna hit me.”

“mate, i do not want to hit you.”

“for sure, you do. you just don’t know it yet.” logan shoves his hands into his pockets. he takes a step forward. “we all know you want to hit me. just do it.”

mick takes note of the step he takes, but stays planted into the ground. “i don’t want to fight you.”

“i know you do. the urge just hasn’t clawed at you yet,” logan grins sloppily. another step forward. “or are you holding back? because she doesn’t like messy guys and you’re scared you’ll lose her it you throw a punch?”

“i’m not holding back. fighting is a waste of time — i don’t like it.”

“she’s very conservative, dude, but she’s very forgiving,” logan nods, looking into the glass doors that lead into the house. he tries to spot you in the crowd but when he doesn’t, he returns his attention to mick. “you’re allowed a couple mistakes.”

“i’m not taking advantage of her like that.”

“i’m not asking you to take advantage of her kindness. i’m telling you that if you need to throw a punch or two, she will definitely forgive you. no need to be scared.”

mick laughs slightly, throwing his hands into the air to surrender. “i’m really not looking to fight with you. that’s beyond me, mate.”

“she appreciates when you let loose a little bit,” logan nods to himself. “why do you think we were going out all those months together? it’s not just cause i won her over with my charm, ya know. she’s got a bit of a wild side, mate.”

mick tilts his head, squinting slightly. he appreciates the extent logan is going to just to rile him up.

“if you don’t know that, then maybe she’s just not comfortable with you.” one more step forward. “i know so well a side of her even you’ve never seen before.”

“do you?”

“yeah,” logan answers in a low tone. he drops his head, one corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. “she’s got that perfect picture smile from a magazine, but you should have seen her when we went to this one party on campus.”

“ah. so?”

“do you know that she gets touchy when she consumes tequila?” logan perks up innocently. “very brave — she’s taken body shots before, you know. off of me?”

“okay? that was a frat party; of course you guys would host that kind of activity. i was there when that happened.”

logan ignores the jabs at the fraternity.

“kissed her yet? in case you haven’t, she tastes like those strawberry mints she always keep a tin of inside her pocket. they’re very minty, but it’s lovely.”

mick grins, pursing his together. “yeah, i know.”

“have you seen her in that one baby doll dress that she likes wearing a lot? what about her yellow sundress that barely covers her thighs?” logan pouts his bottom lip out. “it’s a scene when the wind comes by.”

“mate, you’re kind of crossing a line now,” the german chuckles. “don’t talk about her like that. i know you like her too.”

logan takes another step forward, eager to find that one trigger in mick. “do you know the mole she’s got on her hip? on the left side of her lower back. it’s really really visible when you’re fuc–“

“aw, fuck’s sake!”

logan almost bursts into laughter when he realises what had happened. his back meets the land of grass in the backyard, a pain shooting through his face. when he looks up, a crowd has formed around them during their conversation and liam is already knelt by his side.

lifting his head, he sees mick covering his face with both hands. he runs his hands through his hair as he looks down at logan with wide eyes, hands cupping his warm cheeks. “oh, my god. oh my god.”

oscar and lily pour out of the glass doors with a crowd following them out, the australian raising his eyebrows at his best friend lying back on the ground with a bloody nose.

“logan?” oscar asks, already knowing that he’s probably done or said something to trigger the normally calm headed man in front of him. “what did you do?”

logan scoffs, letting liam help him to sit on the sun bed. “i have the bloody nose and you’re asking me what i did? why don’t you ask him? he hit me.” logan points at mick as he takes the tissues that liam is putting into his hands.

oscar stares at logan. “really? you’re going with that?”

“yeah,” logan grins, glancing at mick. he presses the tissues to his nose, hissing when pain shoots through his face again at the contact. “god, dude. you don’t look like it but you can throw a punch.”

mick nurses his knuckle, taking a couple of steps back. “i know, mate. i’m not stupid.”

you stumble out of the glass doors, heaving as frederik keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. you were in one of the bathrooms upstairs — where it’s exceptionally cleaner — when mick threw the punch (frederik was holding your purse waiting for you outside the door).

when you made your way back down, the crowd inside the house halved. frederik would tap ollie, taking body shots off of someone, asking where everyone had gone.

and ollie, lying back on the table as he put salt on his stomach, pointed to the backyard and muttered something about a possible fight. “logan, maybe,” he muttered before promptly shooing you away.

you look at mick first, who has his shoulders slumped with oscar and lily by his side and is staring at you with guilt all over his face. then you look at logan, being nursed by liam and someone else, with a tissue and an ice pack against his face.

“yeah?” logan perks up with a scoff at you. “can’t pick who to nurse?”

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