#their god is like ''you are not supposed to do this and you know it'' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dolicekiss · 3 days ago

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Cameras & Cash

PAIRING: Modern!Aemond Targaryen X camgirl!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni) reader is sort of like an innocent bimbo, cam girl reader turned sugar baby, controlling aemond, toxic aemond, petnames, masturbation, fingering, brutal throat fucking, breath play, sugar daddy aemond, forced brutal fucking, pussy slapping, face slapping, hair pulling, degrading, humiliation, condescension, riding, mating press, choking, spitting.

SYNOPSIS: When Aemond finds you with your fingers deep inside your cunt, sprawled in front of a computer, he realizes his roommate is a camgirl in need of cash. He offers you money, in exchange for your time and attention while setting one rule in front of you; never turn off your location. But you exactly end up doing that.

The last thing Aemond Targaryen expected was to walk in on his little roommate, you, with your fingers in between your pretty pink cunt, moans of desperation and need falling her glossy lips. Fingers thrusting inside your sweet hole, sprawled out in front of your webcam set atop a table in front of your bed.

His jaw clenched, hearing the sounds that escaped your lips. His fingers had tightened around the plastic bag in which he had brought you food — something he thought you'd like.

Little did he know you were relishing in your solitude.

“Hm, please—God, feels so good.” Aemond gulped, shutting his eyes for a moment as he attempted to move but it was as if his feet were frozen to the ground, not allowing him to move at all. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he attempted to swallow the lump of saliva that had formed in his throat.

You were supposed to be an innocent, shy nerd. This, it was not you or maybe it fucking was. Aemond had no idea anymore but he should've figured it out. Every time you'd get multiple packages to your name, littered outside their apartment door and you'd always make up excuses. He should've kniwn something was up, something like this.

His fucking roommate was a camgirl.

Aemond snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the constant ringing of something, tiny little bells going off.

Your eyes fluttered open to glance at the screen, to check in the tips sent to you by your viewers but instead you caught a glimpse of Aemond standing in the doorway. Immediately you retrieved your fingers from your soaked cunt and pressed the button to end the live stream.

You didn't even bother explaining.

First you had to get out of this damn bunny suit.

Your mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts as you leaped here and there to grab something appropriate to wear. The soft bunny tail embedded in your suit bounced up and down as you moved and Aemond cursed himself for finding it adorable. Thinking how it'd bounce each time he would thrust his cock inside you.

Once your fingers managed to grasp onto an oversized sweatshirt, Aemond watched as you dashed for the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind.

In a couple of minutes you were out, dressed in the sweatshirt and not the playboy bunny suit anymore. Your sweatshirt covered your thighs and Aemond averted his gaze away from you, standing still.

“I'm so sorry you had to see that.” You apologized, nodding your head as your gaze fell down to the plastic bag in his hand. It had the logo of your favorite restaurant and you smiled. But then it disappeared realizing how stunned he appeared. “I can explain—”

“You're a camgirl?”

Well, the question was abrupt but you knew Aemond was not the type of guy to beat around the bush. He was direct, straight forward and less expressive than normal people you'd met on the campus.

Heat flooded beneath your cheeks as you nodded. “It's—It's to pay for for my loans. It pays a lot.”

Aemond tilted his head, his gaze lingering across the room. How disheveled it was when you were usually reserved, put together and calm. His eyes found you, how small you were in comparison to him. Brain playing all sorts of imaginations right now. “How well does it pay?”

Thousands of dollars.” You responded, fingers moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I need it, for tuition and living expenses.”

Aemond’s mind was blank but then an idea lit up in his mind. You needed money and fortunately enough, you were a pretty girl. He'd always acknowledged that and kept an eye on you, albeit he kept to himself most of the time. You two weren't close enough to be called friends but you two knew each other.

“I have a proposition.”

You blinked, confused by his words.

But what followed next left you speechless.

“How would you feel, if you had a sponsor?” Aemond said, his hand scratching his nape.

You gulped, appalled by his abrupt proposition. “You'd pay for everything?”

“Of course I would. Everything would be taken care of.” Aemond took a step. “No student loans. No having to work a job. I would take care of everything. In return you’d just have to do one little thing.” Aemond said as she continued being awkward, like this was the first time he'd ever done this.

You knew that Aemond was the richest guy around campus. He basically possessed enough money to purchase the whole of the university you two attended. You were on a scholarship but living expenses and other loans were piling up. It was already hard as it is settling in a new place, but then you decided to become a camgirl. It required a lot of effort and courage to step into the world of sex work but it was enough to take care of you.

You knew that nothing came for free.

Especially kindness from someone rich. Everything had a cost to it — nothing in this world was for free. Besides oxygen but you could even see that becoming sellable in the near future.

“And what is this little thing?” You asked with suspicion in your gaze. You almost wanted to chuckle, since you were proven right. “You want to be my sugar daddy, now?”

Aemond cleared his throat at the label. He did not like labels. He was not very fond of them but he nodded since it made things very easier for you to understand. ”Is that a problem? Everyone you want, you'll get. You'll be taken care of, all your needs fulfilled.”

You pondered over it.

The deal wasn't bad — it was way better than touching yourself for thousands of men on the intention.

But then it would mean depending on him, for everything. You didn't know how much you liked the idea. If things went haywire with him, you would still have enough money in your bank account for you get back up on your feet and being a cam girl was something you could get back into at any time.

You scrunched up your nose and thought before finally giving in.

But you were also curious as to why he wished to be your sugar daddy.

“Okay, I'm down for it.” You nodded your head and smiled. “But— I don't understand, why are you helping me out?”

“You need money and I have a tremendous amount to offer.” Aemond spoke as he stepped closer to you, his fingers reaching out to curl around the long strand of hair, watching with a hawk like gaze. “I do have some conditions for this little arrangement, my pretty girl.”

Your cheeks flushed at the praise, something of the same sort as greed spreading within your stomach. “Yeah?”

“First, I don't want any other man in your life besides me.” You tilted your head at the possessiveness dripping from his words and how strict he sounded. “You belong to me and whatever I buy you, you'd wear. I want you to tell me where you are at all times of the day and lastly, you will be moving in my room.”

You blinked, dumbfounded by the set of peculiar rules set before you. They reeked of control and you gulped, realizing that the man before you wished to control you. It left you a little light headed as your mind pushed and pushed for you to decline but the deal was too tempting.

“I can't have boyfriends?” You asked, a little confused at what he was proposing. The relationship between the two of you was solely going to be based on give and take, an exchange that could satisfy both parties so what was up with that.

Aemond shook his head. “If you agree to this, you'd be mine which means no boyfriends, no dates and no hookups. I'll be available to satisfy your needs, whatever it is what you need. Whether it be materialistic, emotional or physical.”

So these conditions weren't as hard and impossible as you thought they'd be.

“You're controlling.” You stated the obvious.

Aemond scoffed. “I'm a Targaryen, our family is known for being in control at all times and chasing after the best results in everything. You should know that.”

He was right. His family was known all over the news — the media practically chased after them like they were air. It was lost on you how you managed to land in a university with him, as his roommate too. But you weren't complaining.

“I'll provide everything. Clothes, food, money, everything you could possibly desire. All I ask for is a little control and pretty company.” Your cheeks reddened at his words as you realized he'd called you pretty. The last thing you expected was to get complimented by the guy who mostly kept to himself and tried to avoid everyone.

You licked your lips, wetting it before finally nodding. “I like this. Both parties will be satisfied, it's valid.”

“Good girl.” Aemond’s sudden shift in nature was confusing but also somewhat enticing as you'd not expected him to be so dominant and controlling. “Do you have any other questions?”

You were going to say no but something popped up in your head. “Does the not involving other people rule apply to you as well, or are you allowed to have other women in your life?”

Aemond understood your question and knew where it came from. Definitely not from a place of insecurity but he was well aware that if he entertained other women while forbidding you from doing the same with other men, it would only cause you to feel inferior and lead to the downfall of whatever this situation was.

“Absolutely not.” Aemond broke the haunting silence. “I have no reason to invite other women into my life if I already have you, willing and pliant.”

You pondered over it and he was right. Albeit this relationship was based on personal needs, it was not necessary for him to have other women since he had you. “We have a deal.”

Aemond nodded his head and then his gaze dropped to the worn out sweatshirt that you were in. An idea lighted up in his head as he closed the small distance between the two of you, slim fingers extending to move along the open threads of red on the neckline of your sweatshirt. He made a mental note to spoil you rotten and take you shopping.

“Be a good girl and change for me. I'm taking you shopping, you need a new wardrobe.”

You didn't take offense to his words. Knowing his taste was beyond something you could ever afford in this lifestyle. You nodded your head and turned around, moving over to your small closet.

You found a short, pink thigh length dress with ruffles at its end. It was your best dress, something you could wear around Aemond as he was filthy rich and not someone of your stature. You quickly cleaned yourself up, sprayed some perfume and left the bathroom, standing in front of him now.

Aemond noticed the light makeup you'd worn and he smiled. Cheeks a shade of beetroot and lashes curled to the top, he stood up from the edge of your bed where he'd taken a seat and walked over to you.

“You look gorgeous.”

You felt your cheeks redden more and a smile crossed your lips. “Thank you.”

Aemond reached forward, fingers managing to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and the close proximity riled you up. It was weird, this dynamic. How he'd gone from barely paying attention to you to this, willing to pay and provide, look after all your needs as long as you held your end of the bargain.

You were excited, as you grabbed your white purse and tossed it across your shoulder.

“I have one more thing to ask.”

You stalled, look up at him with confusion implanted all over your face. Eyebrows arched and Aemond stepped closer, shrinking the dance between you two. His breath mingled with yours when he leaned down — lips hovering above yours. Abruptly you felt a wave of tension and goosebumps hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Kiss.”

Your lips twitched. “Huh?”

Aemond smiled. “A kiss to seal the deal, my pretty girl. Can you do that for me?”

You knew you'd have to bring more than a kiss to the table and the idea didn't vex you, so you got on your tippy toes — the massive height difference working to arouse you even more. You could barely reach his shoulder and you moved your hands over his chest, palms laid on it for support as your lips met his in a soft kiss.

Your intention was to give him a gentle peck, wanting to not rush things.

But his lips were so fucking soft. The softest pair you'd ever felt against your own and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your head as the hands over his chest slithered over to circle around his nape.

Aemond’s own eye fluttered shut as his muscular arms reached for your waist, holding you in place.

You slowly pulled back as the kiss was getting heated and looked up at him, like an innocent deer.

“Was that okay?”

Aemond was fucking gone.

Pupils blown out, lips parted as he gazed down at you. Just one kiss has drove him to the brink of insanity and with the way you looked at him, he could imagine you looking up at him from the floor on your knees, plump glossy lips wrapped around his cock. The image made him inhale, his nose burying in your hair to implant your scent into his mind.

“Perfect.”

That was all he said as he turned around on his loafers and began to make his way out of your room. You followed, your little purse in your hand as you tried to keep up with his pace. He was tall and his body was made up of mostly his slender legs. Aemond was a beautiful man and even his walk was powerful enough to let everyone know of his arrival.

In the elevator, the two of you stood in awkward silence — your mind completely glossing over the fact that you barely knew much about your roommate. Only that he possessed a trust fund, had billions of dollars at his fingers and was quiet and liked to keep to himself.

And that he was also very intelligent when it came to achieving higher studies.

“You can ask for anything.” Aemond suddenly broke the silence. “Doesn't only have to be clothes. Just put your finger on it and it'll be yours.”

Heated infiltrated your cheeks as you nodded coyly. “Thank you.”

“I'm doing this to prove that I will be holding my end of the deal and I'm serious about this arrangement. I hope it is mutual.” Aemond said as he scrolled through his phone.

You smiled at him, raising your head to look up at him. “Yes, of course. I'm also serious and here, I will share my live location with you right now.”

You opened your purse and pulled out your phone, scrolling through it here and there. You had Aemond’s number since you two were roommates, in the same campus and classes. Turning your location on and sending it to him, you glanced at his phone as it lit up, indicating that your location was shared with him.

“Good girl.” Aemond smiled, albeit subtle while raising his hand to place it upon your head, patting it. “Never turn it off, am I understood?”

You nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

The elevator soon opened and he stepped out with you pursuing him. The parking lot was empty and as Aemond walked, he rummaged through his pocket for a key and pulled it out, unlocking it. A black maserati was unlocked and you swallowed. It was the same car he often attended the university in.

Your breath was caught up in your throat because of how expensive it was. Aemond of course took note of your delightful expression and a subtle smile displayed on his face.

It was obvious that you had a liking for sparkling expensive items.

He reached the car and opened the door for you. Obviously as someone who had no experiences with men, you were more than charmed. You settled inside and he shut the door, before sitting in the car too.

“Have you finished all your assignments?”

Aemond questioned while he took the car in reverse, taking it out of the parking. You nodded at him, though you were more occupied by the opulence surrounding you at the moment. Beautiful and comfortable black leather seats — the padding beneath your butt providing you with comfort. Your eyes wandered everywhere and Aemond tilted his head as he stole small glances from you.

“So you're free now?”

“Hm, I usually finish up all my assignments first and then get to camning. Education is foremost and important.”

He was impressed by how seriously you took your grades and your education. He often watched you in class while you'd write down notes, listening intently to the teacher and scowling whenever someone would interrupt your perpetual intake of knowledge. He found it endearing.

“Can I ask you something?”

Aemond looked at you before nodding his head, his knuckles closed around the wheel of the car as he entered the street.

You swallowed. “You're handsome, rich and you mostly mind your own business. You could have any girl on the campus then why did you offer me this sort of lifestyle?”

Aemond knew it was coming.

He had a pretty valid answer for it too. He had a smug smile on his face after you'd mentioned you found him handsome. Despite the massive scar on his face concealed beneath an eye patch, people found him beautiful enough to be a model.

“Like you said, I'm controlling.” Aemond responded. “Girls don't like that and I understand why they don't, hence I decided to propose this deal. You profit off me, I get what I want which is control.”

You tilted your head, fingers nervously playing with the ruffles of your dress.

“You're basically giving me consent to have control over you. It's comfortable for both parties, no?”

He wasn't wrong the more you thought about it. He'd left it to you, it was up to you whether you were going to hand him the control over you or not and you had, considering how rich he was. How much he could provide. You didn't see anything wrong with it as weird as it might appear to outsiders.

“I suppose you're right.”

You smiled softly and Aemond glanced at you before his eye dropped lower, his jaw clenching at your exposed thighs. The image of you sprawled out with your fingers driving endlessly into your dampened cunt flashed into his mind and he inhaled — bringing his focus to driving.

The car ride was short as the malls were quite near.

Aemond parked his car and then got out, pulling open the door for you. You thanked him and the two of you were on your way inside the shopping mall.

It was definitely one where they sold the most luxurious items. Bright lights greeted you, beautiful stores and mannequins wearing the most eye catching pieces of clothing. Your throat went dry as he lead you.

“Pick.”

You turned to him, confused. “Pick?”

“Pick a store, whichever you want to go to.”

You nodded your head and then pointed towards the dior one. You'd always wanted to buy those famous lipglosses plastered all over social media and now you could as Aemond lead you there. You were like a cat, tied to a leash that he controlled.

Upon entering the store, the staff approached you and Aemond leaned down to say something in your ear.

“I'll be over there on the couch. Once you're done, come to me.”

With that he left, abandoning you but you didn't mind. You couldn't expect him to follow you around as you looked at different items. You asked the lady about the famous lip gloss and she smiled, leading you to the table. Then she brought out the fresh piece and you immediately fell in love with how beautifully packaged it was.

While you shopped, Aemond sipped champagne. Watching you with the gaze of a hawk — following you around the store as you picked out other items. Different dresses, some bags and makeup. He didn't mind. He had unlimited cash, never ending. His bank accounts were filled to the brim when it came to money as their business ran wild.

He had enough to provide for his next generation and then the one which followed after.

He wanted you to buy what you desired first.

That would cause you to become malleable, moldable. To his own cause and needs. He could easily shove you into a small, revealing dress for him only to rip it and fuck you in it.

The idea wasn't half bad.

His eye followed your legs, walking the store, long and slim. He sipped the liquid, feeling lightheaded almost at the thought of those legs being wrapped around his waist, or perched up on his shoulders as he thrusted his cock into your sweet little cunt.

You were his now.

The perfect little pet.

You came back to him with a wide smile, the nervousness gone from your face. Your features relaxed. “I'm done, Aemond.”

“Let us pay then.” He said, placing the glass down on the table next to the pale couch and standing up.

After sauntering over to the counter, he passed his hard over to the cashier. He didn't even care to look at the recipient, his attention focused more on you. The way you were smiling brightly, cheeks round and happiness oozed from you.

“Thank you.” The cashier smiled, handing Aemond the card while your items were packaged. You picked them up, not wanting to burden him as he carried on with the shipping spree, walking out after tucking his card in his back pocket.

Your small feet could barely keep up with him as he made his way over to another store — named Chanel. Despite coming from a poor background, you were well aware of these brands and how much a simple dress could cost.

“Your size.”

He questioned, looking down at you.

You gulped and told him your size. He only nodded as he was again approached by the staff of this store. They were usually very polite and sweet, more than willing to help out with anything. This time Aemond picked out dresses for you, some black while others in complete contrast.

It was a long, long spree and by the end of it, you were tired and you couldn't carry anymore bad anymore. Aemond had bought you everything that remotely looked beautiful on you, your arms drowning in bags and his too.

“Aemond, I need a new laptop.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and nodded, taking a turn. You followed behind like his personal pet as he stopped at a store. The boy, despite being around the same age as you, was massively taller than you. It hurt your legs to keep up with him.

As he got the laptop packaged, he turned to you and patted your head. “Do you need anything else?”

You pondered. You really did but you had almost everything in the palm of your hand for now. “I—I don't think I do. I'm very hungry though.”

“I'll take you to a restaurant.” Aemond said as he took the bag from the cashier, also his credit card, once again not sparing the recipient a glance. It was futile to him, as all his life he had never bothered to check the tag on something as small as clothes and daily use items.

You shook your head. “Can we eat here, in one of the food courts? I'm craving pizza.”

He stared down at you and then reluctantly nodded. He could do that much for you as much as he found it gross eating in food courts. He was willing to do that for you, as long as you stayed by his side. Aemond was not in love, nor was he obsessed.

But you'd caught his eye.

With your coy personality, how you kept to yourself and turned down people in the university.You were like him in ways and your beauty played a big part in your allure.

He nodded his head and you smiled, clapping your hands but not loudly enough to grasp everyone's attention. Without thinking twice, your arm wrapped around his as you pulled him along to a nearby food court. There were multiple small fast food restaurants.

Aemond stared down at the way you wrapped your arm around his — your plush breasts caressing the side of his arm, as you walked. He looked away and cleared his throat. Aemond wished to pounce on you and take you right on the floor of the mall but he had no intentions to intimidate you, to scare you off.

This was his chance.

He was not going to ruin it.

The two of you ordered after taking a seat and once your food had arrived, you digged in. The taste melting right at your tongue and you wriggled on your chair, a habit which had pursed you from childhood into adulthood. You often did that — a little dance, whenever you were eating something delicious.

Pizza was delicious.

“Are you happy?” Aemond asked, tilting his head as he stared at you.

You nodded. You were more than happy, you were ecstatic. This was like a dream, something beyond the realm of your subconscious mind. Only fulfilled within the abstract form of your mind.

“I'm more than happy.” You sent him a wide smile, your cheeks rounding up and eyes disappearing.

He couldn't understand why you were this happy because all of this, he owned. He was the rightful owner yet he never felt the same level of happiness that you were showcasing right now. He had all the money in the world, unnecessary amount of wealth left by his ancestors but he felt empty, like a tin can. Shallow and an abyss had formed within his rotten core.

It rendered him flummoxed often.

He watched you eat your meal. You were like a little girl in a candy shop, or a child lost in a toy shop. Happiness suited you. It made you appear ethereal and his mind wandered off to other sinful thoughts. It was painfully embarrassing how he kept thinking of ruining you, fucking you in one of the many lingerie pieces he'd bought you.

You were finished soon and he barely had an appetite. Aemond and you were back in his car, driving towards the apartment. This time his hand landed on your thigh, fingers curving around it, holding it. Thumb swiping across the soft supple flesh, his jaw clenched.

You felt butterflies nip at your stomach as heat pooled in your lower abdomen. Even though you did not know much about Aemond other than what you'd gathered from people on campus and little details by living with him, you found him attractive nonetheless. His beauty was unlike you had ever seen before.

Enchanting. Captivating. Alluring.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

Aemond’s hand moved up now, while he drove and stared ahead. You wondered if it was on purpose or if he was too lost in driving to even be conscious of his own actions? The question was left unanswered as the side of his fingers caressed along your clothed cunt.

You flinched at the touch.

But you didn't complain, nor did you stop him.

Instead, the fluttering need in your stomach made you part your thighs open a little, giving him more access.

His fingers kept brushing along your clothed slit, running it along your clit. Your breath grew uneven as he completely pushed his hand between your thighs. Aemond’s fingers pressed onto your swollen clit, which demanding attention, through the fabric of your cotton panties. He found it endearing how despite being a cam girl — you had a pair of cotton panties on.

Then he retrieved his hand, leaving you aching and squirming on the seat.

It was already evening now, the sun had begun to set and darkness was soon going to lay above the city.

Aemond turned the car somewhere, you had no idea where. Then it came to a halt, as he pulled the brakes and the sound of the unlocked doors caught your attention. His jaw was clenched and his face was impassive. It did intimidate you, even if just a little bit.

“Get in the back.”

That was all he said, before stepping out and getting back in the car. You did the same and now there was nothing separating you from him. The lever was not in between you two and your heart pounded like wild horses galloping against your ribcage.It was quiet.

You wanted to speak, but the moment you raised your head up to do it, Aemond’s hand slithered across your nape as he slammed his lips over yours. It left you with heightened desires and desperate needs. Your thighs pushed, creating friction for some sort of relief as his grip tightened on your nape. He pushed you again the door — the force of it making you wince as your back collided with the handle.

Aemond moved his lips over yours like an animal, not permitting you to breathe or even take the lead.

Is this what he meant by being controlling? Because right in that very moment, it seemed as though Aemond Targaryen would swallow you whole without letting you possess an ounce of control over him, over the actions being done between you two. His free hand slammed on the window as he trapped you completely, while devouring your lips.

Sucking and biting with utter need.

Your small hands shifted to push at his chest but to no avail. Like a strong tornado which only knew how to consume and devour, Aemond’s mind knew only of that goal. To consume and devour you.

His teeth sunk into your lower lip, nipping and you whined. Your little sounds filling up the car, causing his cock to stir awake in his leather pants. He was over the edge already, all he needed was a little push.

His hands moved to the edge of your dress, bunching up the ruffles between his fingers and pushing them up. You couldn't stop him even if you wanted to — he was strong and he was not going to stop. His actions were enough as a testament that Aemond was fucking needy.

Feeling the cold air from the conditioning in the car trickle against the sensitive skin of your thighs, you whined at the sensation of being devoured and ravaged while the heat in your abdomen warred with the chilling air.

“Aemond—”

He occupied your lips in a kiss again, slithering his greedy tongue inside your mouth and fucking it.

All while his hands found a path inside your thighs, inching deeper and deeper until his fingers brushed along your soaked panties, feeling how your cunt throbbed. A guttural groan escaped him at the feeling and he didn't waste time sliding your cotton panties aside, leaving light touches over your drenched cunt.

“Gods,” Aemond murmured against your swollen lips, “you're soaking wet.”

A satisfaction seeped into the confinement of his chest as he angled the bad of his thumb over your pearl, moving it in soft slow circles earning a breathy gasp out of you. It sent chills straight down to his loins, his leather slacks tightening and he felt suffocated in his clothes.

All because of how pretty you sounded.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Aemond questioned like he was speaking to a child and you looked up at him, doe-eyed expression, eyes exploding with wanton and desire as you nodded.

He lowered his face to the side of your face, going lower and lower until he was buried in your neck. Aemond inhaled, the sickeningly sweet scent overwhelming his senses as the circles he rubbed over your clit grew hastier, needier.

Pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, Aemond noticed how your hips squirmed on the seat, moving side to side and he grinned at that. He ran a long digit up your soaked slit, accumulating the essence of your sticky arousal and then probing at your slick hole. It wasn't long before he had slid his finger in and your small hand moved to grab his shoulder.

Eyes rolled back, you cried out a wail and tightened around him. Being a cam girl, he'd expected you to be used to this but the faces you made, the sounds you let out, it was as if you were experiencing all of this for the first time ever.

Like a little virgin.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered along your neck before baring his teeth and sinking them in your skin. “all mine, my pretty girl.”

It was lost on you in that moment that Aemond Targaryen was staking his claim on you, possessing you.

You had no idea what you'd gotten yourself into but in this moment you could only focus on his finger moving inside your sweet cunt, his thumb drawing tender circles on your pulsating clit and his soft lips leaving bite marks and kisses along your skin.

Soon he added another finger, using both, curving them in an endless search for that sweet spot concealed within you. Soon, he found it when he thrusted up and your back arched, hand fisting the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder and head pressed against the windows of his car.

You looked absolutely ravishing.

“I can imagine the faces you'd make with my cock inside you, deep within your puffy cunt, thrusting inside.” He whispered and you hadn't expected him to be this vocal, especially when he was such a quiet person in general.

Always minding his own business, keeping to himself and not even engaging in any conversations besides the ones that are necessary.

“You'd like that, pretty girl?” Aemond questioned in a low, sultry voice. “Like my cock pounding into your pussy?”

You responded by clenching around his fingers, snuggly clasped around the pair and he chuckled in his ear. Low and deep. You really were a needy, greedy little thing and he felt his ego inflate even more at the thought of having you like this. “Something tells me you'd love it.”

Tears prickled your waterline as he thrusted his fingers deep inside you, knuckles pressing against your quivering flesh as he continued his biting. Your right leg was sprawled over his thigh as loud, prominent whimpers and moans flew out of your mouth. You were a loud one, a vocal thing but he didn't mind.

He enjoyed it.

Relished the sounds you made. All because of him. He kept plunging his digits inside you, watching your face as it contorted in pleasure and a layer of perspiration had sheened over your forehead. The heat in your body, warmth flooding through your veins winning in the battle against the air conditioning of the car.

The coil inside your stomach was near to snapping, your thighs suffering from tremors as your walls snugged his fingers. Tight to the point he felt the warmth from his fingers shoot straight to his loins. Painfully hard he was but right now, it was all about you.

After all he needed you malleable.

“Aemond, please. I.. I'm gonna..” You cried out, hips writhing on the leather seat and he curved his fingers deeper. “Let go, pretty girl. Make a mess on my fingers, show me how pretty you look when you come.”

That was all you needed. All the encouragement as you arched your nape and gasped out. Eyes rolling to greet the darkness behind lowered lids, the coil within your stomach snapped and you ascended heaven in a way foreign to you. Thighs convulsing and hips twitching, tears streamed down your face as you sobbed from the pleasure.

Gods, you were absolutely sensitive and beautiful. Perfection and Aemond knew he'd made the right choice.

All you saw was white, for a fleeting moment when you gushed out. Making an absolute mess over his expensive leather seats and fisting the fabric of his polo shirt to the point of pale knuckles.

Aemond was in awe.

How beautiful you seemed, crying and in complete bliss. In that moment he contemplated taking you right there, in that damn car. But that one little mistake, one tiny slip up of unbridled desires would become the bane of this entire situation and he did not want that. Circumspect to actually push more, so he took you in his arms and pressed your face in his chest.

“You're fine,” he whispered, softly as your flushed cheeks throbbed from the heat and embarrassment. Gaze flickering down to leather black seats glistening from your climax. “you did well, pretty girl. You were amazing.”

Hearing praise from someone could mean so much and your heart fluttered as your own arms moved to wrap around his nape. Buried in his chest, it was a good feeling. Being taken care of like this, it surely helped you feel much better about this whole predicament.

“I'm sorry about your car.” You whispered and Aemond shook his head.

The car didn't matter, the fine leather didn't matter when he could watch you unravel like this each and everytime. “Don't worry about it, it's nothing.”

You'd calmed down now and thoughts lingered. This situation wasn't as bad as you'd expected it to turn out and it made you relax a little, nerves put to sleep.

A month had passed.

Life had changed drastically for you. Camming was long forgotten as Aemond provided you with everything. From a something as minor as a toothbrush to a luxurious car. He had given you everything, anything that you ever even laid your gaze on and you truly felt like a princess.

That was until you decided to go out with your friends to a club.

It was packed. Loud music and flashing lights expanding over the area outside, a sinful invitation for the people passing by on the streets.

You were dragged along by your friends and giggles erupted from your mouth as the entrance to the club was packed but nonetheless, you were allowed in. It was the same club which you had visited multiple times with Aemond in the past one month and the bouncers immediately recognized you, giving you permission.

Using Aemond’s power to go into VIP clubs was thrilling. It was what you got in return for being his little plaything.

The music was boosting, its bass loud enough to shake the club dance floor. You were pulled to the bar and your two girl friends ordered some drinks. Each ordering a shot of tequila with lemon and salt. They had begged you to come to the club with them and had even encouraged you to turn off your location.

A big mistake.

But the idea of a fun night out without a care in the world was too enticing for you to not act upon it.

The club was crowded, people going crazy on the dance floor, some couples even making out in the corner and you grinned, brain showing you images of the time when you had ridden Aemond’s cock in the corner of the club on a couch. It was euphoric and the memory brought heat to your cheeks.

“Drink up!” You heard a friend scream over the music and the three of you drowned your shots.

That carried on until you three had consumed about four shots. You swayed over to the dance floor, the music picking up and your friends followed. Dancing your heart out, you turned down every boy that dared to approach you, telling them how you were already in a relationship.

A relationship that was not normal.

Your phone in your purse buzzed and buzzed, set to vibration, with text messages from Aemond and missed calls. All which you ignored in the pursuit of a fun night out.

Meanwhile Aemond was holding his device in his, gripping it with such exertion, it could break in his hands. He was at a dinner with his parents, carrying on conversations about his university life but when he decided to check your location and found it turned off, an irritation set ablaze. The cherry on top were you not picking up his calls, nor responding to his texts like he didn't exist.

It angered him.

You'd broken that one rule he had strictly prohibited you from breaking.

“Excuse me. I've got some business to attend to,” he stood up from the chair abruptly and nodded to his parents, before leaving the table. He'd hopped in his car with a clenched jaw and a hard glare, his knuckles releasing all his anger and frustration on the damn steering wheel.

“Pick up, fucking pick up.” He muttered, dialing your number again but to no avail. Aemond was disappointed. He was seething and he had absolutely no fucking idea about your whereabouts or if you were even safe.

You'd never done that before.

As he was about to tap on your number again, his eye narrowed at the number which flashed before in his gaze. Picking it up, she brought it to his ear.

“What.”

“Your girlfriend is here. With her friends, I thought you should know.” It was the manager of the club, someone that Aemond knew very well.

With poorly contained rage, he responded back. “Keep an eye on her, I'll be there.”

He tossed his phone into the passenger seat and picked up, foot pressing against the accelerator. It wasn't long before he had parked right outside the club and maneuvered his way through the large crowd of people. Lips in a tight line, his one good eye ran over the people dancing.

And there you were.

With anticipation drumming in his chest, he found you with your arms in air as you swayed your hips left and right. A big smile stretched over your face, without a damn worry in the world.

He scoffed and walked over to you, his hand reaching out to circle around your frail wrist. Aemond pulled you to him and a gasp left your lips when your eyes met his and a chill ran down your spine. He looked angry, the expression was never seen before on his face but it was there.

Usually he was very sweet, very gentle, and he fucked good too.

But right now you could feel the heat emanating from him.

“While I’m worried sick, having no fucking idea about your whereabouts, you're having the time of your fucking life.” Aemond snapped at you and his harsh tone knocked the air out of your lungs.

But that wasn't enough.

He dragged you out of the club, not caring about the amount of people he crashed into, his only goal being dragging your ass back to your shared apartment and reprimanding you. Reminding you who owned you, who you belonged to, who fucking looked after you.

Your attempts to free your wrist out of his grip were proven useless as he pushed you into the car, watching how your body collided against the plush seats. Then he moved over and slid into the driver’s seat. A scowl was evident on his face as his speed went above hundred, reaching the apartments soon.

It scared you how quiet he was being.

You could not dare to speak up, to apologize to him because he was furious. All you could do was sit there, with trembling hands and a stomach churning with anticipation. Forehead covered in a thin layer of perspiration and lips twitching, you two made it out of the car.

His hand was clasped once again around your wrist, dragging you up to the apartment.

The moment he reached the door, he opened it and pushed you inside with a scoff. His face devoid of any emotion other than anger and you felt your heart thud like a galloping horse in your chest. Aemond was like a deadly viper, waiting to envelope you.

“What did I say about the location?”

You knew he wanted you to say it, but your throat had dried. Your lips glued together and Aemond reached forward, closing the distance between you two, fingers dimpling into your cheeks to elevate your chin up. Grip harsh and searing.

“What. Did. I. Fucking. Say?”

You flinched. “Never.. Never turn it off.”

He nodded. “And what did you fucking do?”

“I turned it off.” You whispered, feeling the weight of what you've done heave down on you. The fear spread across your face was such a enticing sight for him and it only burgeoned the strength he applied to your chin.

You whimpered in response.

His pupils were dilated, blown fully and his pale skin was dusted red from all the anger and frustration pent up inside him. You panted, breathing ragged and broken as you tried to soothe him. “I'm sorry—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, my friends, they told me it wouldn't matter—”

“Your friends fucking told you to turn off your location and you listened to them?” Aemond lowly questioned, his next words were even more condescending making you feel like you actually were stupid. “Are you that dumb?”

You felt tears brim your eyes and you sniffled, feeling like you had disappointed him. Like you'd ruined the perfect relationship which had stirred between the two of you and the sight of you so fragile, on the brink of falling apart only made his longing for you grow even more. “Who pays for your little designer bags, huh? I recall it is my credit card that you swipe whenever a new dior bag catches your eye, not your fucking friends.”

Aemond released your chin and you almost felt relief wash over you, only he used the same hand to grab you by your nape, dragging you along.

Your feet could barely keep up in the tall heels you were as he carelessly pulled you along up the stairs.

“You need a good throat fucking. That'll fix you right up.” Aemond said through gritted teeth, pulling you over the stairs.

Reaching your shared room, he pushed inside it and took a seat on the bed. His actions rough and condescending as he shoved you down on your knees. It hurt from how harshly he was man handling you but you felt as though you deserved it for breaking a rule.

“I'm sorry—”

Your head whipped to the side from the sheer force of his hand colliding against your right cheek. A burning sensation blossoming paired with scarlet and your eyes widened at him. It had left you speechless and Aemond’s hand drowned in your locks, tugging on them at the base causing you to arch your nape and look up at him.

“If you used your mouth for something else other than sucking my cock, I'll make sure you never see the light again.” He threatened, with a glare. “Understood?”

You were not one to take his threats lightly and you nodded, with a soft sob escaping your lips. The sight of you so unraveled and disheveled, even though he had not done anything as of yet made his heart clench and his resolve almost crumbled apart.

Only his anger possessiveness won.

His eye dropped down to the prominent bulge in his pants and you didn't need any more clear instructions than that to do what he wanted. Trembling fingers worked their way around his pants as you dragged his zipper down. In a few seconds, you had unveiled his cock and pulled it out. It didn't curve or hit his abdomen, the heavy weight of it holding it down. With his cock, came equally heavy balls and a shudder ran through you at the sight.

Closing your fist around his cock, you earned a growl from him.

“Suck.” He commanded and you were more than quick to oblige, leaning in and closing your glossy lips around his cock.

Taking him deeper and deeper, sliding with your tongue laid flat against his underside, feeling a vein there throb with obvious wanton. You dived in more, the tip of your nose coming in contact with his neatly trimmed hair emerging from his groin. Tears spilled when his swollen cockhead breached your throat, fully nestling in there.

Aemond groaned, his hips bucking up with need. “Hold still, don't fucking move.”

You tried, attempted to stay still but when he moved his hand down to pinch your nose, destroying any chance of you receiving oxygen, you started trashing. Aemond didn't care, relishing how you broke and teared up more, face turning pale.

“This is exactly how I felt when your stupid fucking location was off, princess. How worried I got, how I couldn't fucking breathe.” Aemond reprimanded and all you could do was look at him with tearful, pleading eyes, begging to be let go.

You trashed here and there, hands moving to his thigh, nails digging into his skin through his dress pants but that was nothing in front of the anger which had erupted like a damn volcano from him. Your desperation to free yourself was least bothersome to him as he tightened his fingers around your nose.

Saliva sputtered around your mouth as you sobbed, endlessly trying to free yourself and then Aemond finally released you. Both his hands moving back to rest on the mattress, he watched you inhale long chains of oxygen, watching you fall back on your ass and claw at your throat.

“Back to sucking, whore.” Aemond snapped his fingers.

You looked up at him through a teary gaze and nodded, getting back on your knees and wrapping your mouth around him, engulfing him. He groaned at the return of your warmth and bucked his hips up, fucking your throat with abandon. It wasn't lost before he spurted his hot white cum inside your throat, straight shooting down. You fluttered your lids shut and swallowed all around his mouth, not leaving a drop.

Aemond didn't even have to order you to swallow, knowing you were generally obedient.

His large hand moved from the bed, laying on top of your head as he collected your hair in a fist, pulling you up. Pain shot through your scalp and you stiffened, looking up at him as he brought you up. “You disappointed me, greatly. I've given you everything, made you a fucking princess overnight and you couldn't keep one rule?”

You sniffled, like a child, tears streaming down your flushed scarlet cheeks. “I—I’m sorry, didn't mean to.. I-I swear.”

Aemond pulled you up towards the bed, standing up and tossing you over the mattress. His softened cock regained its stamina, hardening again, swaying side to side and your eyes widened. Grabbing you by your ankle, he pulled you towards the edge of the bed and then brought his boot up, pressing it against your ankle. Hard enough to make you feel pain but gentle enough to not break your ankle.

“I could have anyone, anyone in this entire city.” He said, narrowed gaze focused. “But I chose you. You should be worshipping me, licking my fucking boots.”

You sniffled, as he pushed apart your thighs and ripped at the pathetic excuse you wore for panties. The fabric was flimsy and he tossed the tattered pieces aside. Aemond spread apart your pink glistening folds with his thumbs, revealing your little wet hole and your clit hidden beneath its hood. He loved eating you out, making you cum over and over again with his tongue.

But not now, you didn't deserve to have his tongue in your cunt after what you'd done.

So he aligned his cock with your hole, and watched as his swollen head breached your hole. Your cunt immediately squeezed around him with wanton, desperation and excitement causing him to chuckle. “God, you're so desperate. Even after I humiliated you, your little cunt clings on to me with such need.”

You look up at him, baffled by his humiliation as this was a side you never thought existed to someone like him. You'd always assumed him to be a kind introvert who somehow found you pretty and decided to provide.

This was different.

It terrified you as he glared down at you, eyebrows furrowed and pupil dilated. Due to the perspiration, his silver hair clung to his forehead and you swallowed.

In one single hit, Aemond nestled his cock deep inside your cunt and buried himself to the hilt. Your saliva around his cock had lubed it enough for him to be able to glide easily within your suffocating walls. “Fuck, I love this tight little cunt.” He growled, holding your thighs apart, a tight bruising grip leading you to cry out.

Tears spilled as you felt your pussy struggle to accommodate to his size. It wasn't the first time he'd fucked you but everytime he did, you felt like you were being split open by his thick hot cock. It felt good but also hurt and you arched your back, bucking your hips up.

Aemond slammed your hips down, taking you into a mating press position causing you to wail out as he drove deeper. Legs over his shoulders almost, his chest fully pressed against yours, his cock reaching your womb with his position. “Please, please—”

“Shut your damn mouth,” Aemond snapped, smacking you across the cheek as he began to thrust.

His cock slammed in and out of you, leaving you crying and sobbing. Your tits bouncing with each thrust, leaving you completely feeling like some porn star. He'd never taken you like this, with such humiliation and you tried to bury your face in his chest.

Aemond growled, enjoying each and every moment of your sopping wet heat engulfed around him, clamping down hungrily. His hand flew to your stomach, being able to feel his cock bulge against it and the fact that he was so deep inside you lead his balls to draw up tight. Hot and throbbing.

As his curved tip hit your sweet spot, your back arched and you cried out. “Right there, please right there!”

Aemond chuckled, darkly as he began to hit that same spot over and over again. The coil in your stomach which tethered on the edge of snapping finally did snap, falling off and your cunt squeezed him in. Gushing everywhere, making a mess and spraying him wet in your liquids. It didn't matter to him as he continued pounding into you, the headboard of the bed creaking violently from the sheer force of his hard thrusts.

“Stop, I-I can't.” You sobbed, saliva mixing in with tears rolling down your chin.

Aemond’s hand moved to your throat, wrapping around it. He pushed forward and choked you, tightening it to the point your eyes rolled back to your head. His cock pulsated within your velvety soaked walls and you grew sensitive around him, hips twitching and writhing. Thighs convulsing and body completely spent.

“Tell me I own you,” Aemond’s grip tightened, cutting off your air supply. “Tell me before I choke you unconscious.”

Your eyes opened and you looked at him, blinking away the tears. “You—You own me, own me, Aemond.” Your words were slightly coherent but satisfying enough for him.

You'd expected him to let go but the man squeezed harder, applying pressure on your throat and right when you saw random objects in your peripheral vision, he released you and pulled his cock out of you with a wet, suckling pop.

You'd assumed he was done.

But a tight slap to your swollen cunt awakened you, a wave of electricity jolting through you.

“Ride my cock,” Aemond said, already laying against the headboard. With a sniffle and more tears spilling, you crawled over to him weakly with a twitching pussy and straddled him.

Aemond had one hand behind his head while he watched you, struggling to align his slippery cock with your hole but soon, you succeeded. As you sunk down, your back arched and head turned back, hips meeting his thighs. His cock was thick but it was more longer than it was thick, stuffing you so nicely.

Your toes were pushed on the mattress as you began to ride him, bouncing up and down like some sex doll made for him. Aemond watched with a hungry gaze, finding satisfaction in how humiliated you appeared in front of him. “Bounce harder, slut. I've taught you better than this.”

Your small hands moved on his chest for support, as you impaled yourself on his length, bouncing with more vigor. Your face was flushed, drenched in sweat and tears as you bounced and bounced with all your strength.

“Who's credit cards do you use for for shopping, baby?” He asked, mockingly.

Your lips were parted open, making way for needy whimpers. “Y-Yours.”

Aemond nodded and grinned at you, a sadistic grin. “Then who's cock should you be bouncing on, who's calls and texts you shouldn't ignore?”

“Yours.” You sobbed, hips meeting his in a loud slap each time you bounced. His hands found your waist, lifting you up with great ease and holding you in the air as he began to thrust upwards, pummeling his cock into your slick heat.

The room was filled with the obscene wet sounds of your squelching pussy, each time he thrusted upwards. Your thighs shuddered, hips twitching, blood pumping fiercely and heart pounding.

Another orgasm was near, another need to burst open.

“Please, gonna cum, gonna cum again.” Your nails dug into his chest, the second impending climax much more powerful and overwhelming than the first one.

Aemond grabbed your hair, pulling it and baring your neck to him. He leaned forward and sunk his teeth into you, biting you down like some beast as his cock continued its violent abuse. You tightened around him, squeezing him in and then you came once more, making a mess everywhere. Your walls had grown extremely sensitive and you couldn't take anymore.

Eyes rolling back to your head, nails leaving crescent moons on his chest, you emptied out over his thighs. “Too much, too much! Please stop, don't wanna!”

But Aemond didn't listen. His own balls throbbed and the delicious squeeze of your hot pussy made him hiss. Teeth nibbling on your skin, he spilled his seed into you, rope after rope filling your womb up. “Yeah, take it. Take it, slut. Take my fucking cum and suck it in your tight little womb.” Shooting again and again until he too was spent and drained. You both collapsed on the bed, your face meeting his chest.

For a moment only the sounds of your low whines and his ragged breathing could be heard in the room. Your body throbbed in pain from how brutally he'd taken you but at least now you'd find peace, be allowed to fall asleep.

Too bad.

“I'm not done with you, pretty girl.” Aemond whispered in your ear and after a couple of minutes, you felt his cock harden again.

Just how much stamina did he physically possess?

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alwaysmoncheri · 3 days ago

Note

can I request something for spencer?? I know you haven’t written for him in a while but I love him sm🥺

I literally forgot decaf coffee existed when writing this. thank you for requesting, muah! <3

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, slight lack of self-care, fluff, 1k

Derek watches you walk through the office doors—if you could even call it that—you shuffle through the doors, hand resting on the bump of your growing stomach. The other clutches a stack of files to your chest. There’s a frown upon your lips, you look exhausted. Hair slightly disheveled, and blouse partially untucked, you’re clearly in need of some time off, but you’re trying your best.

On a normal day, Spencer would be right by your side. Brushing the hair from your face, leaving a lingering kiss to your temple. He would take the files and gently guide you to your desk. You’d beg for a small coffee, and he’d remind you that, “Drinking more than 200 mg of caffeine per day during pregnancy has been linked to an increased risk of pregnancy complications, such as low birth weight and miscarriage.” You’d shut up after that. Not that Spencer meant to scare you—but you always are.

You’re scared about those things, the what-ifs. At the beginning people are happy for you, always wishing you congrats and sending smiles your way. It’s supposed to be that way, it’s exciting, you’re carrying the result of yours and Spencer’s love—another life. But the whispers always find their way to you. You’ve heard the talk about the chances of miscarriages—that no pain could ever compare to carrying a baby for months only to lose it during childbirth.

On a normal day, Spencer would be there to silence your worries. But, today he’s in a meeting. A stupid meeting. It makes you want to cry.

Derek notices your eyes tearing up and stands from his desk. Blocking the path to yours. He grimaces when you almost collide into his chest. You blink a couple of times, like you hadn’t even known he stood up. Now, you’re exhausted, sad and embarrassed—not a good combo.

“How’s our girl doing?” Derek hums with a careful smile, offering a hand to guide you to your desk. You grumble something incoherent, shooting him a quick look. A second later he’s out of your path, allowing you a straight shot to the coffee machine.

You clutch a mug, the heat against your hands comforting. A sigh leaves your body, and your shoulders relax. You’re about to take a sip of your coffee before it’s snatched away from you. You pratically moan at it’s absense, before narrowing your eyes at the traitor in front of you.

“You can’t be having this,” Emily says simply before taking a sip of your coffee. Your blood boils.

“Give it back,” you demand, placing your hands on your hips to look as threatening as possible. You can’t imagine how effective it is, though, given your current state—but you’re determined.

“Nuh, uh,” she tuts, pulling the mug away from you. You watch her step back and dump the hot liquid into the sink. God, you’re too tired for this.

“I can just make another.” you shrug, reaching for the other mug resting on the counter. When Emily snatches that one from you too, your head lulls back, and you groan in annoyance.

“Nope,” she shakes her head with an amused smile tugging at her lips. You swear, this has to be her deah wish, “Spencer will kill me if I let you do that.”

“He wouldn’t.” You argue, but it’s really a desperate plea.

Emily raises her eyebrows at you, “Yes. He would.” she says, emphasizing each word. You roll your eyes but give in—you know she’s right.

“Fine,” you mumble, throwing a final glare in her direction before turning to hobble over to your desk.

The rest of the day is long. Your co-workers watch the way you wince when Hotch calls someone into his office, voice booming across the room. They watch as you slump at your desk, your head propped up by your hand, trying—unsuccessfully—to keep your eyes open enough to focus on the documents in front of you. After a while, Penelope approaches, her smile wide, and a glass of water in hand. Her cheerfulness only makes your head throb harder. You gently brush her off, taking the water with a quiet sigh. You wish you didn’t feel this way—but your sour mood only worsens by the hour.

Then, finally, your savior arrives.

Almost the entire office visibly relaxes when Spencer emerges from the meeting room. He looks panicked, like he’s more worried about being without you than you without him—the truth is the latter. His eyes sift through the office before finding you at your desk, slumped and half asleep. His eyes soften and his shoulders drop. You’re still breathtaking—though when he tells you that, you only protest. Long strides bring him to you, and just like on a normal day, he’s by your side.

A gentle hand in between your shoulder blades brings his presence to your attention. You tilt your head up while his other hand brushes your hair out of your face. Then, he presses his lips to your temple, like he always does—it makes you smile.

You wrap your arms around his waist, and Spencer’s bent at an especially awkward angle, but it doesn’t bother him.

“Spencer,” you sigh, the weight of every negative emotion from earlier lifting off your shoulders. Pressing your face into his chest, you breathe in the comfort of his warmth.

“Hi, honey.” he returns, rubbing small circles on the small of your back. You say something into his chest that doesn’t quite reach his ears.

“Hm?” he hums, asking you to repeat yourself. Nearby, Derek’s mouth hangs agape when you do without protest.

“I missed you.”

Spencer presses a kiss into your hair, “I missed you too.”

You’re both silent for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. But eventually, Spencer shifts, wincing as his back aches, and gently pulls away. In turn, he kneels in front of you, hands resting on your thighs.

“Have you had anything to drink today?” He asks simply—out of habit. Your smile again, he’s always trying to take care of you.

“A little.”

There’s no hesitation before he’s on his feet, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, wait.” you protest, catching his hand, “Just stay for a minute.”

Spencer can’t bring himself to say no.

So, he pulls up a chair, and the two of you settle in, working side by side at your desk until the end of the day. Hotch, watching from his office, would normally call out the inappropriate behavior—but today, he decides to let it slide. Just this once.

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

#my works ──★ ˙🦋 ̟ !!#masterlist #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x pregnent!reader

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alwayscozyy · 2 days ago

Text

You know what’s bothered me? People viewing our president as some sort of celebrity. Especially someone that says they are a “fan” of a presidential candidate, just doesn’t sit right with me. These are real people governing our country, not a fucking magical being or a movie star. Politics nowadays is damn reality tv. This country is as mature as a high school, and the popular kids are fighting for control. I’m not religious much but this is what god means by “false idols”. Also, the fact I’ve seen people bet on the election or talk about it like it’s some sort of sporting event is quite outrageous and unsettling. This isn’t entertainment, this is supposed to be a commitment to democracy and creating equality and fairness in our country. It’s about making the proper changes to help better mankind and American lives. I think we need to start somewhere new. Our lives don’t change with a presidential election, change occurs within ourselves. It’s our mindsets that are hurting us. For the next four years we live with a decision, and after that, the same thing. That’s how shit works, and not everything goes your way sometimes, but that’s how life happened to turn out. It’s hard for me to trust anybody that worships a “presidential candidate” or obsesses over the idea of the election. All we can do is control what we do and how we act. We can’t better the world until we better the people that are capable of changing the world. Change is necessary, without it, we wouldn’t adapt, survival wouldn’t be possible, and evil would persist. Fuck trump and fuck Kamala. I never chose them as my candidates. Who said anybody is worthy of such a position of power anyways? But if you really are into politics and support someone, I get it, you’re doing all that you can do by voting for what you believe in. And I commend you for choosing that decision. Just remember there are more important things to consider than to obsess about your favorite “candidate” on your free time. And for the love of god, stop dividing this country.

#politics #kamala harris #donald trump #fuck you society

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antimonyandthyme · 1 day ago

Note

carcar 28 if you are still doing prompts :)

carcar pt 1; curse of obedience/can’t disobey a direct order

“So,” Oscar says, “if I were to say—”

“Don’t,” Carlos says, all urgent, eyes wider than Oscar’s ever seen them. “Oscar!”

He’ll remember this moment after. Go back to it every so often, when his brain sees fit to carve out versions of himself to dissect. Savage, impulsive. Vindictive even. Couldn’t even have picked something non-life threatening, like Drink this drip coffee, which I know you’d rather die than put on your tongue. Had to go for this.

“—run out into traffic, without looking—”

Carlos stands up so fast the chair clatters behind him. Bit of a shock. Oscar looks around, waits for the crowd to laugh along, for him to be allowed in on the prank. The café’s busy, people rippling past them to get to where they need to be. Carlos turns toward the door.

“Carlos,” Oscar says. The vacant look on Carlos’s face scrapes against Oscar’s bare skin like a grater. “What are you doing?”

Carlos gives no response, eyes trained only on the door. Dimly, Oscar wonders if this is how he looks under the helmet.

No, no. Even while racing, Carlos wouldn’t look like this. Surely, his jaw would run askew, his teeth would find his lower lip, his eyes dance bright and hungry.

“Carlos,” Oscar says again. He barely registers his pulse spiking.

Two steps are all it takes for Carlos to get up to full speed, as if he’s got a rabid dog on his heels. He’s a bullet shot out the door, a blur of red.

Oscar’s supposed to have reflexes made from lightning. Fastest in the world, isn’t he? But he stares, uncomprehending, and stares some more through the endless bay windows, as Carlos, uncaring that the crosswalk’s sign is still red, dashes onto the road. He runs, cutting through the continuous stream of metal as if his body were made of something divine.

A car swerves violently, a honk sounds. The ignition Oscar needs to snap out of his daze. Combustion, power. He propels forward, mouth already formed around syllables.

“Carlos,” he screams. “Carlos, stop! Come back!”

He must not be able to hear me. That must be the only reason Carlos keeps running, narrowly avoiding a speeding motorcycle. What did he say, when Oscar was dismissing his confession as a joke? He said—he’s being made to listen, right? To listen and obey. Oscar just has to reach him, so Carlos can listen.

Carlos is too far ahead, outstripping Oscar with an unrecognizable single-mindedness. Oscar’s yelling himself hoarse, but it’s too loud all around them, tires screeching, tearing at his ears. Chaos around them, Oscar unable to reign it in. Even in the rainiest conditions, he’d been able to find more grip than this.

The crosswalk melts onto the sidewalk, and for a blessed second, Oscar thinks it’s over, that Carlos has done all he’s needed to do, carried out the cruel task Oscar’s laid out for him like the gods before Heracles.

Then Carlos turns the corner, still running.

“Carlos!” Oscar’s face is wet, for some reason. A flickering image of Carlos meeting a car sears itself into the back of his eyelids, spills more liquid out. “Come back, please! Please, god. Come back.”

Clarity, even in panic. If he’s braved speeds most people can’t comprehend, forces that could bend and even break a neck, then what is running blind into traffic?

He doesn’t look as he steps off the curb this time. Adjusts his focus to match Carlos’s. Speeds up in a way that is second nature. A driver swearing at him, a blinding flash from a headlight too close for comfort, but Oscar keeps running. Slowly but surely gaining on his target, overtaking within his reach.

“Stop,” he begs. “Carlos, you can stop now.”

Carlos’s feet ground to a halt.

Momentum carries him to a collision. Oscar flings his arms around Carlos, drags him out of the way just as a truck blares past their intended path.

“Asshole, you fucking asshole.” Big, gulping, uneven inhales. “Why did I, why did I go to you, I’m such an idiot, why did I even think you would, ah, fuck. Fuck.” His voice cracks into tiny pieces. “Stupid, stupid. Such a fucking idiot.”

Oscar tightens his hold around Carlos. Dead man’s grip, he’s not letting go. Even though they’re both shaking so hard each breath feels like a bruise. Carlos’s shoulder knocks into Oscar’s teeth, hard enough to cut his lip. Doesn’t matter, he’s not letting go. Oscar tugs Carlos, still trembling, over to the wall of the deserted street they’ve found themselves in. He sinks to the ground, back against the wall, pulling Carlos down with him.

“Breathe,” he says, a little hysterically. “Carlos, come on. Breathe.”

Deep, deep breaths, swelling through both their bodies. Fuck, fuck. Was that also a command? Could he tell Carlos to stop breathing and would Carlos just stop—

“Breathe!” Oscar nearly shouts, to force all other thoughts out of his head. “Carlos, listen to me, you’re alright.”

“—hate you,” Carlos is saying furiously. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut against the pain that lances through him. Nothing like the sting of his bleeding lip; this settles far deeper. “I can’t believe I, you. You.” More air, sucked through rattling lungs. “I shouldn’t have come to you.”

“Why did you?” Oscar says brokenly. He squeezes Carlos to him, then even though he shouldn’t, shouldn’t be allowed to, buries his forehead in the dip between Carlos’s shoulder blades. Selfishly uses Carlos to buttress himself. “Tell me.”

Another command, he realizes too late. Can he not even be in Carlos’s vicinity without being such a dickhead, fuck.

“I thought you wouldn’t.” Carlos’s chest heaves, his throat forcing out words against his will. “Of all people. You wouldn’t use it against me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Oscar whispers, like the greatest hypocrite in all the earth.

Oscar’s never heard Carlos laugh like that, derisive, painfully disparaging. All those times before, when Carlos had teased him, even after a race mistake, he’s done so maybe a little mockingly, but gently all the same. Prodding at Oscar with his bared teeth, but carefully enough he never broke skin. And now he sounds like he would be happy to be wiped clean of Oscar entirely.

Oscar cringes, tries to hide by burrowing further into Carlos’s back. This must be what being flayed alive feels like.

“You wouldn’t!” Carlos says, voice raising high and thready. “After you tried to kill me. After you made me, made me run like a dog huh? Was that fun for you? You like that, huh?”

Carlos’s shoulders pull uncomfortably taut. His shaking slows, the drug of adrenaline siphoning away. The rhythm of his breath changes, stutters, then quickens. His throat releases something wounded. The arm Oscar has braced against Carlos’s chest catches stray droplets, running off Carlos’s chin.

Oscar’s never going to be able to forget the way Carlos sounds broken down. Can’t do anything. Can’t even say something like, Don’t cry, for fear of stuffing all of Carlos’s tears back into him like a botched surgery.

He holds Carlos closer. Lips on the back of Carlos’s neck like he’s allowed, like he can impart I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m so fucking stupid it will never happen again I promise. I promise.

“Breathe,” he says.

“Leave me alone,” Carlos says weakly.

Nope, no. Never. “Breathe.”

“Just, leave me alone Oscar.” Carlos struggles in Oscar’s grip, a fish caught in a trap. He doesn’t have the leverage to break free, winded as he is, with one arm tucked under his own shirt, fingers pinching his side so hard the flesh’s turned white.

“You’re hurting yourself,” Oscar says softly. “Please let go, Carlos.”

Carlos’s fingers unclench. He lets out a low, hurt whine, frustration, anger at his own helplessness, at having to listen to Oscar. Of all people. “Fuck you,” Carlos says.

By the third time Oscar repeats it, his mind’s made up. “Breathe,” he orders. “Carlos. I’m going to fix this.”

(put that guy in a situation prompts)

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #carcar #how does he fix this you ask?#well oscar ***** ****** **** *** ****** *** *** ***** ** ** **** *** **** **** *** ****** ******#thank you stevie <3

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talktonytome · 2 days ago

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oooh, Cia, about a lil ficlet based on that post about Buck just plopping himself down on Tommy's lap whenever he wants.

Sarah, my beloved! I hope you like this <3

Buck waves his hands animatedly, from his place on Tommy's lap. He's telling Karen about his and Tommy's trip to the botanical garden the other day and how they got to go into the butterfly pavilion.

"Tommy was covered in butterflies, you shoulda seen!" Then, he turns to wink at Tommy. "And he wasn't even a little bit afraid of them."

Karen giggles, as Tommy faux glares at him and starts poking his ribs, well-versed in Buck's ticklish spots.

Buck squirms, trying to get away, but Tommy holds him in place, like it's nothing and doesn't let up.

"Okay, okay, I yield!" He shrieks. And he's glad he threw his arms around Tommy's neck because, in the next second, there's a loud crack, as the chair splinters beneath them and they're both suddenly ass on the ground.

Well, they'd had a good run, he supposes. For as many times as he's sat in Tommy's lap, he's surprised this didn't happen sooner, frankly.

He chances one look at Tommy, who is slightly red in the face. The moment their eyes meet, they burst out in laughter, and if they hadn't already been on the floor, they would have fallen over, anyway.

They laugh and laugh, until they're wiping tears from their eyes and Karen laughs too- more at them, than with them, though. "Well, am I glad I captured that priceless little moment," she smirks, shaking her phone in their faces.

Tommy almost breaks his neck to gasp at her. "Wait did you know this would happen? Karen, you wound me."

Karen shrugs innocently. "I thought I heard the chair creak just before, but I wasn't sure. Anyway, you know this was bound to happen. You two go around acting like chairs are meant to hold two grown-ass men! And Buck, I love you, but as much as you act like one sometimes, a puppy you are not!”

She stands up from her own chair and taps at her phone with a grin. A few seconds later, their phones buzz.

Buck groans. “Really? You sent it to the group chat?”

“What? I thought they’d want to see,” she blinks at them sweetly. “Besides, I had to prove I won the bet,” she nods smugly.

“There was a bet?” Tommy asks indignantly.

“Oh Tommy, you should know by now, there’s always a bet.” With that, she walks away from them and ducks inside her and Hen’s house.

Tommy lays back on the grass, pulling Buck with him. “Well, at least there’s a silver lining,” he sighs.

Buck turns his head to look at him, doubtful. “Oh yeah? Please do tell me.”

“At least everyone else went home before it happened.”

Buck pictures Chim and Eddie’s gleeful ribbing and shudders. Oh god, what if Athena had been there? “Yeah, yeah I think you’re right.”

“I often am,” Tommy agrees, voice low and teasing.

“Don’t push it, Kinard,” Buck mutters.

“I thought you liked it when I pushed you around, against surfaces, especially,” he smirks.

“I’ll show you pushing,” Buck warns, before rolling over and pinning Tommy beneath him.

He’s just about to kiss him breathless, when the backyard flood lights shine on them and Hen yells from the door. “Get a room! Your room, in your home, please.”

They both groan this time. He rolls off Tommy and helps him up instead.

Tommy wraps an arm around him, as they walk to their car. “Cock-blocked by a Hen,” he shakes his head and giggles. “Get it?”

Buck laughs, despite himself. “Oh god, why am I with you, again?”

“Because you looove me.”

“Yeah,” Buck whispers, still in awe that that he gets to have this, slightly wounded pride and all. “I really do.”

#fluff #bucktommy #tevan #karen wilson #ficlet #my ficlet #ask #sarah 💕

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astercontrol · 16 minutes ago

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Yeah. This is all very true, but, like the man said, people don't like it.

Which I think is for a specific reason-- part of the reason a LOT of things in the world get so bad.

Suppose you go back in time to try and stop a bad guy. (I'm not gonna say Hitler like the original screenshot did, because Hitler has very specific connotations and would start a very specific debate that's not the more general point I wanna address.)

Let's just say, there's a guy who did terrible things, and you travel back in time to try and prevent this.

And you find him when he's a baby.

Two schools of thought here. One is, you give that baby a different life where he grows up with different experiences, and then he won't do the evil things he did.

Some people don't like that idea, because it suggests that what he did wasn't his fault-- maybe was no one's fault, just an accident of circumstances lining up wrong. And that's not satisfying, for people harmed by the evil he did.

But the other school of thought is, you kill the baby, because the problem is him, not his environment. He's gonna be evil regardless of how he grows up.

But then, where is the evil? In his genes? In the soul God gave him? And how does THAT make it any more his fault?

"Oh, it's not in his genes or his soul or his experiences! It's his choice! He COULD choose to overcome whatever's in those factors, he just won't!"

...Oh? He definitely won't? In any possible timeline? Then what is it that makes him so inevitably destined to make that choice?

"He CAN, but it's not possible that he ever WILL" ...and how is that any different from "he can't"?

This is how a lot of radfems think about men in general. But people don't like to go very far down that line of thought, because ultimately it makes them question the concept of free will.

Thing is, though-- if we're ever going to move behind a punitive, carceral mindset for how to deal with evil, we HAVE to start questioning that.

I'm not sure we can, on a societal level. But I still hope we try.

Even if stuff is predestined, we don't know what the future is... and we can always hope it's something good, or at least not the worst. We have to. Because hope is all we have.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

#reblogster #notron anyvirus #userworldproblems #politics

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ivyasproperty · 1 day ago

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Necklace.

agathario x fem!witch!reader

summary - You made an impulsive decision and bought a necklace adorned with gems. Why?

warning(s) - some cursing

word count : 967

A/N : here reader is also a witch, but it's mentioned only once soooo..

men / minors dni!

You have no idea why you bought it. You were already struggling financially, so why in gods name did you buy a necklace worth almost your entire fortune?! You tried to calm down your racing mind, sweating buckets as you try and figure out why you made the impulsive decision to buy a necklace. You thought maybe because it was beautiful, adorned with purple and green gems, but you've seen multiple magnificent things in life and you've never made the stupid decision to buy it, even when you wanted it so badly, so when egged you to buy this monstrosity?

As you paced around your living room, necklace in hand, a sudden knock at your front door caught your attention. With how loudly and rapidly they were knocking, they've probably been at it for awhile now. You rushed to the door, not wanting to keep the person waiting and seem like a bad person, but stopped halfway. You were living in the middle of nowhere. The reason being running away from the witch hunters. Yes, you had powers, powerful ones in fact, but harming others never sat right with you. And if harming someone or something didn't sit right with you, don't even mention killing someone.

So as quickly as you could, you placed the necklace down and grabbed a nearby frying pan, just for extra measures, and rushed to open the door, but not before peeping through the windows. After seeing who was outside, you sighed in annoyance and reluctantly opened the front door. Standing there was the one and only infamous witch killer, Agatha Harkness, and beside her, Lady Death, also known as your past lovers. Things were rocky after your break up, and even though it took you awhile for your heart to heal, you managed. But seeing them in front of you brought back all the buried up emotions you spent forever to get over.

"What do you want?" "We need somewhere to camp out, pet.", said Agatha. Before you could even reply her, she brushed past you and welcomed herself into your humble abroad. "Yes, do come in," the sentence was very obviously dripped with sarcasm, but Agatha decided to ignore it. You looked back to the front door, not surprised Rio wasn't standing there, she probably teleported herself inside. As you closed the door, Agatha spoke up "What's this necklace doing here? I have to say, it is a beauty, but aren't you like... broke?" "Don't be rude." said the green witch. You snatched the necklace out of her hands and rolled your eyes, "It's none of your business, Agatha."

And as you walked away to the kitchen, necklace still in hand, that's when you realized the reason you bought the necklace Well fuck, you were in deep shit. You kept asking yourself a certain question, didn't you get over them? And you always said yes, but I guess your dumbass still hasn't gotten over them. But who could blame you? Agatha's crystal blue eyes, Rio's dark brownish hair.... oh god you were trailing off again.

As you stood there in a daze, Agatha and Rio stared at you with utter confusion. You've always been a responsive and quick-witted person, so seeing you just standing there in your own world was certainly a new experience. "What's wrong with her?", whispered Agatha, "How the hell am I supposed to know?" You came back to your senses while they were whispering, not sure how to stay calm. You were supposed to be over them! Gone! Out of your heart and mind! But as you looked back down at the necklace in your hands, you couldn't help the longing stare you gave to both the necklace and them.

Rio could sense it, the longing, the wanting them back. She nudged the witch standing beside her, whose attention was occupied by the horrid decorations of your home, which you tried make do. As she looked at you, she too couldn't help but notice the stare you were giving them. To be honest, the reason the two witches came to your doorstep was because they wanted to try and mend the relationship you guys once had. Sure, they were content with each other, but you were still etched into their minds. And with that, they just needed to exchange a knowing look and went along with their plan to win you back.

You didn't notice them moving from their spot, too focused on the necklace in your hands. So it was an understatement at the fact you were startled when two pair of hands wrapped around you. But you didn't jump away from their embrace, instead leaning into the two pair of arms. You missed this, the warmth they radiated from their bodies. Rio took the necklace and clipped it around your neck as Agatha hugged you tighter, not willing to let go as she inhaled your scent, not wanting to forget it even though it was already embedded into her senses.

"I missed this," whispered Agatha. "We all did, and we're sorry, darling. For what we've done. Agatha and I were wondering if.... you'd like to give it another chance?" It was rare for Rio's voice to be this soft. She's always been this cold hearted woman, but the vulnerability in her voice didn't startle you, instead it brought a warmness to your heart. You stood there in their embrace for awhile, contemplating whether you should accept their proposal or not. "Last chance," you whispered.

And as you three stood there together, their hands traveled to the necklace around your neck. And you felt a tingly sensation in your stomach. You should've realized the reason you bought the necklace sooner, considering how the gems that adorned it were the signature colors of your two lovers.

A/N : not that big of a fan of this but whatever!!!! hope you enjoyed this! don't hesitate to give a request!!! ><

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #marvel #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x reader #agatha x you #rio x reader #rio x you #ivyawrites.ᐟ

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the-palelady · 2 days ago

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I love that u gave crime wife!reader a butterfly obsession like deep down she’s secretly super nerdy but her shitty husband doesn’t let her indulge in those things anymore.

Personally feel like Ghost would swoon at seeing her get all excited over seeing a certain butterfly or moth, especially ones she rarely gets to see.

I hope u write more of them in the future!!!

not but seriously he would fall to his knees seeing a woman like her, someone kept hidden from the outside world, get this sparkle in her eyes when she sees something she adores.

ghost, much like his name, ceases to exist when your husband is home. at first, you thought maybe him being there at all was just a figment of your imagination; your mind conjuring up some fake entity so you'd feel less lonely in the prison you were supposed to call your home.

as it turns out though, ghost was not a hallucination. in fact, he was a very real man who came around more and more as time went on. he knew your husbands routine, knew when he would leave the house for extended periods of time, and that's when he would make his appearance.

in the beginning, you never spoke, and ghost never pushed you to. you had grown accustomed to the silence between you and your husband, only ever speaking if he was scolding you or flatly informing you that'd he'd be gone for a few days.

ghost simply watched you water your flowers, sitting beside you on the plaid grey and white blanket you always brought out to sit on while you read. he spoke here and there, asking questions about the flowers you grew, what it was you were reading, or what you ate for dinner the previous night. admittedly, you found his awkwardness…reassuring?

it was like talking to others was unfamiliar territory for him as well.

you felt bad that you gave him little to work with. he was coming from a good place after all, keeping you company all through the afternoon and even late into the evenings while your husband was away. the least you could do was meet him in the middle.

but the more you thought about it the more you doubted yourself. you hadn’t talked to anyone besides your husband in so long. what if you sounded stupid? what if your topic of conversation was dull to ghost? you had been your husband’s little secret for so long, shut off from society, that you didn’t know much about current events, what was popular, what would be interesting. so you kept yourself shut out, continuing to only meet his questions with simple nods and shakes of your head.

until one warm summer afternoon when you sat on a gardening chair, looking over a gardening magazine that you’d read god only knows how many times.

ghost was situated in front of you, eyeing the magazine as well, not exactly interested but you supposed he was looking for something, anything to say. that was his usual way of driving the conversation and you didn’t mind it.

you flipped the page and he noticed a flower that looked awfully similar to a bed of flowers you had planted near the back door, to which he pointed at the page, and looked up at you.

“this where ya got the idea ta plant those?” he asked, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the pastel pink dahlia’s growing in the flower bed near the house. he looked over at the flowers, admiring the color of the petals and how well you had taken care of them until he noted how silent you had been. when he looked up, your eyes were practically bulging from your head, locked on something behind his shoulder.

however, when he made an attempt to turn around, your hands darted forward, keeping him in place before you placed your index finger over your lips, indicating for him to stay quiet.

ghost was beyond confused. even more so when you stood, shaking in your shoes as you tip toed to a large bush behind him.

“i can’t believe it…” a chill shot down his spine at the soft sound of your voice, a light rainfall trickling down during the spring.

he turned in his seat, being quiet like you had asked when his hooded whiskey eyes landed on you, hunched over, gazing at a butterfly that slowly flapped its wings together while it lay stationary on a leaf.

“wha’ is it?” he whispered back, and instead of answering with words, you beckoned him over. he didn’t hesitate to follow your command, a moth to a flame.

leaning forward, he consumed every last word you uttered to him, your voice music to his ears, a song he wanted to put on repeat.

“a purple emperor. i’ve never seen one before. they normally keep to the treetops in the woods. this one is probably a male, resting after his lunch.”

ghost felt his heart lurch forward at the sound of the giggle that left you, breathy and quiet, barely there, but there all the same.

“we should leave him be. i just couldn’t believe i got to see one. the purple on his wings was just too pretty to not want to get closer.”

when you turned to look at ghost, it took everything in him to keep himself from saying, “you’re too pretty.”

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schemmentigfs · 3 days ago

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can i request a fluff one shot where reader has to go on a trip (either for work or family reasons) and melissa meets them at the airport when they arrive back and is just super domestic once back at their shared apartment 🥺🥺

In the Quiet of Absence.

Summary: After spending a month in Paris for a work conference, you finds yourself longing for the warmth of home and, more than anything, for Melissa.

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota <3

You sink into the plush hotel bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you look out at the city lights glimmering against the Parisian skyline. It’s breathtaking—no doubt about that—but after almost a month, even the magic of Paris can't dull the ache you feel right now.

“God, I miss her so much…” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your temple as you glance around the luxurious room.

Your right hand drifts to the nightstand, fingers brushing over your phone. Without thinking, you pick it up, your thumb tracing over Melissa’s name. You can picture her asleep back home, curled up in bed, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, maybe even with little Sweet Cheeks nestled at her chest. The thought brings a goofy but genuine grin to your lips as you press ‘record voicemail.’

With the phone cradled in your hand, you start speaking quietly, as if she could somehow hear you through the miles of the ocean.

“Good night, Lis. I know you won’t see this until morning since you’re probably fast asleep right now. Paris is... well, it’s Paris. Beautiful, busy, a little overwhelming. Everyone says how lucky I am to be here, but honestly, it just makes me miss you more. I walked by a café today, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to sit there with you, sipping coffee, people-watching, maybe listening to you rant about the tourists. It’s just not the same without you here to share it with.”

Sighing softly, you add. “I spent the day at the conference, and honestly, I found myself daydreaming about our couch and Sweet Cheeks curled up between us. I wish you could’ve seen the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You would’ve loved it. I tried to take some pictures, but they just don’t do it justice.”

As you keep talking about the conference through voicemail, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve seen, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift to home.

Home.

It’s hard being so far from home, but even harder being far from her. Paris might be beautiful, a dream city for most, but without Melissa next to you, it feels empty, just walls and skies. You’d flown here for work, a month-long conference that was supposed to be exhilarating, a stepping stone in your writing career. And while there’s been value in it, each day is a little heavier than the last. Every stroll past the Eiffel Tower, every quiet hotel room evening, only reminds you of how much you miss the life you share with her.

You’d never imagined how hard it would be to be apart from her. Sure, you two had spent nights apart before, but a whole month? It was almost unbearable. You miss everything about her—her laugh, the way she fills the room with her warm, unfiltered energy, and the little things she does just to make you smile. It’s like there's a part of you that just isn't here, and every day, that longing grows heavier.

Everything here felt too polished, too perfect. You missed the little imperfections that made life with the second grade teacher so damn beautiful. How Melissa would wrap her arms around you in the mornings, still groggy from sleep. Her face when she’d forget where she put her reading glasses only for you to find them perched on her head, or the way she’d tease over making the perfect cup of coffee each morning. The way she would immediately fuss over your packing, making sure you had everything you needed, and the soft hum of her voice as she reassured you that everything would be just fine while you were away.

Home was with Melissa Schemmenti, and every part of you ached to be there.

Your girlfriend’s voice on the phone helps – her late-night calls about what went wrong at Abbott Elementary that day, the accent you love laced with the warmth of home. “Mon amour,” you’d whisper into the phone during one of your daily conversations, a term of endearment that wraps around both your hearts, even across the miles. But her voice isn’t enough, not when you’re used to seeing her every night, sharing meals, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.

With a gruff, you close your laptop, packing away notes you’d barely read. That’s when you hear the knock on your door, breaking the silence.

“Bonsoir, madame,” one of the hotel staff says politely when you respond. “Dinner is ready downstairs in the lobby.”

“Merci, je serai là dans cinq minutes.” Your answer is quick, almost robotic. Despite enjoying the culinary wonders of the place, you can’t help but prefer the meals of a specific redhead who knows everything about cooking and Italian cuisine.

“Pas étonnant, si vous avez besoin d’autre chose, nous sommes à votre disposition.”

You thank them with a smile, but you’re already glancing at your phone, at the time difference that keeps you apart, counting down the days – just three more – until you’re back in her arms.

Back at the bedroom, after finishing dinner, you’re restless. As much as the meal was filling, your thoughts are back at home with her. You finish up the small dessert in your room, the excitement building to be back in her arms, in the life you’ve built together. The night stretches on, a quiet contrast to the bustling city outside, and your sleep feels even further away.

You slip beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling as the quiet surrounds you. Sleep eludes you as memories of the older woman flood your mind—her lavender smell, the comfort of her presence. Everything.

“Just three more days,” you repeated the phrase, over and over again. Feeling like a mantra.

Closing your eyes, the loneliness is creeping in again, but the thought of returning keeps you anchored, making the distance feel just a little bit smaller.

It won’t be long now.

Back in Philadelphia, Melissa is dealing with her own form of aching loneliness. She’d thought she could handle a month without you; after all, she’d done it before. But the days had dragged on longer than expected, and each night without you next to her was another reminder of how deeply entwined you both were.

The redhead’s days are packed with the usual chaos at Abbott Elementary, but somehow it doesn’t quite fill the space you left behind. She comes home to an empty apartment that feels colder without the warmth of your laughter echoing through it. Sweet Cheeks, her classroom guinea pig, has become an unlikely companion, curled up in a little cage by her couch. She started bringing him home on weekends, claiming it was to keep the kids excited for Monday mornings. But if she were being honest with herself, she liked the company—even if it was just a ball of fur and squeaks. Sweet Cheeks always listened to her rants about the day, his tiny, twitching nose and big eyes a small comfort in your absence.

She talks to him about you sometimes, about the things she knows you’re seeing in Paris. “She’s probably at some fancy shit right now, buddy,” she mutters, throwing him a piece of lettuce as she leans back on the couch. “Probably complaining about how boring those rich dumbasses are.”

Melissa had never really considered herself to be sentimental. She was tough, independent, and good at taking care of herself. But after so many years of you two being together, this past month had taught her just how much you’d become her home. She finds herself missing the little things—your goodnight kisses, the way you leave your books stacked messily by the bed, the warmth of your hand reaching for hers whenever you pass each other in the kitchen.

She sighs and reaches for her phone, scrolling through your photos, lingering on the ones you’ve sent her from Paris. There’s one of you smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, looking radiant with the city’s lights sparkling behind you. She can’t help but smile, even if her chest aches. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers, running a thumb over the screen. The animal lets out a small squeak, almost as if he’s in agreement, and she chuckles. “Yeah, champ. I’m the luckiest gal in Philly, huh?”

Her phone buzzes with a voicemail notification, and her heart jumps a little. It’s your voice, soft and intimate, filling the quiet of her apartment as you talk about your day. You talk about the conference, the view from the Eiffel Tower, and how much you wish she were there. The familiar sound of your voice brings an ache to her chest, but it also fills her with a sense of peace.

She presses the phone close to her heart once your message ends, letting out a shaky sigh. “Just three more days,” she says to herself, mirroring your own anxiety. She settles back into the couch, Sweet Cheeks nestled beside her, as she listens to your message one more time, the sound of your voice helping her feel just a little closer to you.

The nights for your girlfriend are the hardest. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, longing for the warmth of your body beside her. Sometimes, she’ll grab the spare pillow, pulling it close to her chest as if it could somehow substitute for your presence. She buries her face into it, breathing deeply, as if she can still catch a faint trace of your scent.

She’s tough, but she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s counting down the hours until you come back.

When Saturday morning rolls around, Melissa stands by the sink, her sleeves pushed up, humming a soft tune as she washes the breakfast dishes. Sunlight filters gently through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the kitchen and giving her that familiar sense of home she craves more than anything right now. Sweet Cheeks squeaks from his spot on the counter, and she reaches over, giving him a gentle scratch.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama will be back soon, okay?”

Just as the green eyed woman was about to finish the last dish, her phone rang. Seeing your name, Her heart skipped, her fingers fumbling with the dish towel as she hurriedly picked up.

“Hey, amore mio,” she greeted, her voice soft and warm, as if she hadn’t heard from you in months, though it had only been a few days.

“Hey, Lissa! Guess what?” you said, excitement bubbling through the phone.

She grinned, already thrilled just hearing your voice. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Melissa let out a little laugh, caught between disbelief and pure joy. “Shit, really? Tomorrow? I missed you so much!” The words escaped her before she could hold back. She looked down, feeling a bit silly for how much she’d let herself miss you.

Sweet Cheeks, catching onto her excitement, squeaked louder at his feet, little paws tapping against the kitchen counter as though to join in. “See, even Sweet Cheeks missed you,” your girlfriend joked. “I think he’s been going nuts without his other mama.”

You laughed on the other end, and Melissa felt warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but it had been a long, lonely few days without you, the routine things—the cooking, the tidying, even sitting on the couch—felt empty without you there.

“Well, you just hold tight. Tomorrow, we’ll make up for lost time,” you replied, and she could practically feel your smile through the call.

“That’s perfect. Love you, hon.”

“Love you more.”

After you hung up, Melissa wandered to the bedroom, feeling a deep swell of emotions, her fingers brushing over her pocket where a small, carefully hidden velvet box lay. She’d been carrying it around for days, checking it repeatedly, rehearsing the words she wanted to say once you were home again. The plan was all there—she’d wait for a quiet Sunday morning, like the ones she cherished so much, and then she’d ask.

Unable to resist, she pulled one of your shirts from the closet, bringing it close to her nose. The faint scent of you clung to it, bringing her right back to those lazy Sunday mornings that had become her favorite part of your life together.

She let herself imagine it: you, padding out of bed with only your underwear on, your hair a mess and your eyes still heavy with sleep as you’d pull her into a hug from behind. Every time, she’d grumble a bit, pretending she wasn’t as soft as she actually felt in those moments. You’d tug her back into bed with you, insisting on snuggling under the covers while she made her usual complaints about wanting to get up and start the day.

But truthfully, she loved being wrapped up in your arms as the little spoon. She felt a rare kind of safety there, the weight of your arms around her, the warmth of your chest against her back. She’d pretend to make a bad face, grumbling softly, but she’d inevitably relax, letting out the soft snores you always teased her about later.

And then, just when everything felt perfectly peaceful, Sweet Cheeks would start squeaking from the foot of the bed, weaving around your legs in hopes of an early morning cuddle.

Melissa smiled to herself, clutching the shirt close as she pictured the day ahead, wondering how you’d react when you saw her there, waiting to welcome you home—and how your face would look when she finally asked the question she’d been holding in her heart.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity, she drove to the airport, her heart racing with every step. When she finally spotted you through the crowd, her heart just about burst. She didn’t hold back, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

You held her just as tightly, murmuring, “Missed you too, Mel. So, so much.”

As you made your way back to the apartment, your laughter filled the car, and Melissa soaked in every second of it, feeling like the pieces of her world had finally fallen back into place.

Once home, she proudly led you to the kitchen, where she had your favorite meal prepared and ready, the smell of marinara sauce filling the space. Sweet Cheeks squeaked in delight at the sight of you, and you scooped him up, letting him nuzzle against you in greeting.

After dinner, you settled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other, your sweet guinea pig resting contentedly in his popsicle stick home nearby. The redhead leaned into you, her heart racing again as she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the small box.

She took a deep breath, turning to you with all the love she’d been waiting to share. “I know it’s just us, and this fella,” she said softly, glancing down with a shy smile. “But… I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So, I was thinking, maybe… we could make this forever?”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, what are you doing?” you gasp confused, while blinking.

She cleared her thoart and kneeled down. “Y/N. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened as she pulled out the box, revealing the ring she’d been carrying. In that moment, with tears in your eyes, you nodded, pulling her close in an embrace filled with all the quiet love and warmth that had defined your life together.

And as the night wore on, Melissa held you close, feeling finally, deeply at home.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #wlw #melissa schemmenti

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see-arcane · 2 days ago

Text

What is there to say?

I am afraid. I am angry.

For the second time this country has shamed itself and put the world in jeopardy from its example. Other monsters will be empowered and run ahead with their own nations. Now, short of a miracle which I do not hold my breath for, we must hold on for four years to see if one of Trump’s infinite ugly promises holds true—will we even get to have a presidential election in the future? Supposing we do, can we even trust that our fellow Americans won’t damn us again?

I am afraid. I am angry.

Sickness and blame boil in me. I did everything I could. I voted, I informed, I pleaded. I know that my friends have too. But the news tells me it was not just the electoral college that failed us, but the popular vote. Which tells me that we live surrounded by more ignorance and hate than I ever expected. We live in a country where eligible voters are steeped in an ideology that aligns enough with the poison of Project 2025 that it makes me fear to trust anyone—anyone—around me ever again. And it makes me wonder, in light of the turnout, how many people stayed at home and simply chose not to vote. Chose not to sully themselves with the effort of choosing the lesser evil. I am looking at you. We are all looking at you. Do you feel smart now? Do you feel superior? Do you plan to pat your back today for ‘teaching them a lesson?’ Do you have a plan to save us? To save the rest of the world from the ripple of this? Tell me you do. I’m listening.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am not prophesizing doom. But I have a memory that goes back at least eight whole years. I understand the concepts of hindsight and foresight. I know that everything the Republicans say they wish to do to us, they mean to do, and want to do worse. That is the truth. That is who they are and what they want. I know this. I accept this as fact. The stages of grief have been cycled through before, remember? There is no denial. No bargaining. My calluses are still here. They must harden thicker now.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am thinking, of all things, of cosmic horror. More, cosmic insignificance. I always do in the face of reality’s grandest nightmares. A useless perspective except to give scale to things. I am less than an atom in the sea of space. A fraction of a fraction of a fraction of meat and time and breath on a crumb of mud in a galaxy tucked haphazardly in a corner of an infinity of stars and darkness. My life, like all lives, is a flicker. Barely there. Death is inevitable. I must live like I know it. And to devote myself wholly to horror, even in the face of the unthinkable, is to waste the rest of what I have, what I am. Gods fall from the sky and raise their heads from the sea, and I am still here. Reading. Writing. Breathing. Thinking. Hating.

(“HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE THEM SINCE I SAW THE NEWS. THERE WERE 71,071,013 VOTES FOR HIM THIS YEAR. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH OF THOSE BALLOTS IN 8 PT FONT ON BOTH SIDES AND PRINTED AGAIN FROM THE EAST COAST TO THE WEST, IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR MY COUNTRY AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR THEM. HATE. HATE.”)

I am afraid. I am angry.

Nauseous to find that the first thing I did upon learning the results was look up suicide hotlines. Not for me—I have saved myself too long with fact: Wait long enough, death will come eventually. Do not jump ahead in line.—but for those who I know are afraid enough to overwhelm the anger, to drown out all else, and who are thinking of the next four years and who knows how much longer. I know you’re out there. I know you are looking at the pills in your cupboard, at the veins of your arm, at the black tunnel of the gun. Look away. Look here.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

TrevorLifeline: 1-866-488-7386 (for LGBTQ youth)

Trans Lifeline: 1-877-565-8860 (for the transgender community)

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am alive. Here and now, whether I like it or not. I despair for myself, for my friends, for strangers across the country and the globe who can feel the full and loathsome weight of all this election implies about those around us. Those who hold our lives in their hands and will do all they can to wring them dry in earnest. How did things turn to this? How did it all sink so low, so awful, so venomously backwards against education and empathy? How, how, how? A missing stage of the grieving process: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, and Confused disappointment.

I am afraid. I am angry.

The morning is sunless, of course. There will be no light for another hour as I write this. But time is passing. Second by minute by hour. And each micro-instant that accrues in which I am here and myself, existing outside the red mold they want, is another moment that would anger them. To let despair crush and collapse me out of shape, out of life and its facets, is a victory I will not cede to anyone. Least of all to them. I will go on, because I must go on. I will be myself, for that is an affront to all they want from me. I will think and act and make and be for as long and fully as I can. Because fuck them.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am not alone. I know that too, for the numbers show it. Afraid, angry. But never alone. Neither are you.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am here. I am holding your hand.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I love you more than I fear anything.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I love you more than I hate anyone.

I am afraid. I am angry.

Let’s go.

#election 2024 #I feel very sick right now.#I know you do too.#But we are alive. We are here.#Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

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sanguineterrain · 3 days ago

Note

Femjay you say 👀 how about the classic "you're alive?!" confrontation with a sprinkle of pining

sprinkle of pining you say-oh dear! i've dumped the whole bag in! along with a jar of erotic violence! whoopsies...

female!jason todd x afab!reader. violence, angy jay, reader being held down, crying, reunion. remember that girl best friend you had highkey lesbian tension with? yeah.

****

It's her eyes you recognize first, oddly enough, through her cracked helmet. You shouldn't recognize her at all, with how everything about her has changed. Even the way she looks at you is different. You've never seen Jay Todd so ferocious.

"You weren't supposed to be here!" she screams.

It's true, you weren't. You stumbled across your dead best friend by accident, found her hissing and vicious with a shattered helmet and a smoking gun. Four dead men surround her.

"Get out."

All you can do is stare. She's alive. She's back. She's yours.

"Jay..."

Okay, you lied. This wasn't an accident. This was fate that you played a hand in. This was what was bound to happen after Jay got too close, let herself get seen. You've had an itch for months, eyes on your back. You're a civilian now, sure, but you loved a bat once.

She pries off her helmet and your breath hitches. God, she's beautiful.

"What is wrong with you? You could've fuckin' gotten shot."

Your legs start moving. Your arms part. You expect the feel of a soft cape between your fingers, black curls to tickle your chin due to a height difference you never let her forget.

Jay drops her gun, grabs your wrists, and knocks the wind out of you in a graceful takedown. You can't even be mad.

"You're alive," you choke out.

When she was Robin, you had a slim chance of physically overtaking her. Now, double in size and muscle, Jay keeps you pushed to the ground with no chance of getting free. Her hands hold you by your wrists, body hovering close so you can't move much.

Her eyes are wild. A mix of blue and green. More green than you remember. Her irises have swallowed her pupils and her curls are knotted and frizzy. You feel inexplicably hunted.

"How dare you?" she spits. "How fuckin' dare you come here?"

"Jay," you say softly, unable to keep your eyes fixed on one part of her. You're afraid to blink and make her disappear.

"I could've shot you," she says. "You could be dead right now."

"You're a good shot."

You mean it as a compliment. Jay only seems to get angrier.

"I have to be. I'm the only one keeping myself alive," she says. You make a weak noise in your throat.

"I should've looked for you," you say.

She scoffs. "Don't say stupid shit. You're smarter than that."

"I should've," you insist. "I should've found you. I felt you."

"Yeah? Feel how I could tear you apart? It comes so easy now, you have no idea. 'M fuckin' soaked with blood."

You stay silent. Jay's eyes flash. She leans in, breath hot on your ear.

"Are you scared?" she asks like she knows the answer.

But she doesn't.

Your legs part further so she can kneel comfortably. You shake your head.

Jay snarls. "You should be. I've killed people. I'll keep killing."

"It's okay," you say. "You're angry. It's okay to be angry. I don't blame you. No one does."

"Stop talking like that!" she yells, tears in her eyes. "Stop talking like we're friends. We aren't friends. You don't know me!"

"But I do," you say, limp beneath her, like a lamb caught in a wolf's bite. "Jay, I do."

"No, you don't," she snaps. Her voice is mocking, brittle. "You know your fancy publishing job in a big shiny office, away from this shithole, and-and fuckin' Paul from Marketing who brings you banana pancakes from the diner."

Your breath comes out in a careful exhale. "You've been keeping tabs on me. How long have you been back?"

Jay's mouth quivers as she bares her teeth. "I took you to that diner. It was mine first."

"It never stopped being yours," you say quietly.

"You—" Jay growls in frustration. Her hands squeeze your wrists. "This isn't how it's s'posed to go. Hate me, hate me. I'm a monster."

"You're not."

"You're fuckin' deluded," she says, eyes glassy with tears. "Fuckin'—sleep so heavy, like I can't slip in and smother you. No one would know. Make tea in your-your robe, don't even pull the curtains shut. I can see you. Anyone can."

"I missed you, Jay," you say, a heart-shaped lump in your throat.

"And so what?" she asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "So fuckin' what if you missed me? You kept living."

You try to pull your hand free, and to your surprise, you do. Jay lets you slip out of her grip. You use your free hand to hold her scarred cheek, wipe her tears with your thumb.

Jay is perfectly still for several moments. Then she wraps two big hands around your ribs, pulls your shoulders forward like nothing, and rests her cheek on your chest. She shakes into your skin, kneeling between your legs.

You hug her head, smell her new-old smell, and let her curls tickle your chin once again.

#Jason Todd x reader #female Jason Todd x reader #red Hood x reader #female red Hood x reader #rule 63 #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #blurb #inbox

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webanglikethat · 2 days ago

Text

to every single queer person out there—trans, gay, bi, pan, ace, nonbinary, however you identify—let me just say this: I am so, so fucking sorry. SO, SO, SO FUCKING SORRY. I am furious. I’m pissed off beyond words. english seems like a forgotten skill as I'm typing this. I am so sorry.

we never deserved this. we never fucking deserved this.

I am sorry that you’ve been betrayed like this, that we’ve all been betrayed like this. I’m sorry that SO MANY of our damn votes weren’t counted, like we don’t even matter. like we’re just numbers on a page that they can toss out without a thought. like we can just be erased, as if we do not exist, like we’re puzzle pieces that don’t fit into their perfect picture, so they just throw us out, discarded, like we were never there in the first place. I’m sorry she just conceded, just gave up. left us hanging. just handed us over like we’re some afterthought, like we’re collateral damage in this disgusting twisted fucking game. as if our lives, our rights, everything we fought for, meant nothing. she just rolled over and let us get steamrolled, like we’re just noise, just numbers on a page, just nothing worth fighting for. do they even care that real people, people who trusted her, who put their hopes in her, are being crushed by this? and not only in the US. we ALL believed in her. and ... she ... just ... she was gone. just like that. and we’re the ones who have to pay the price. we’re the ones left with our futures on the line, wondering what rights we’ll have tomorrow, if we’ll even be safe tomorrow. and she just… gave it all up. handed us over to people who are hell-bent on erasing us, who’ve been clear from day one about what they think of us, what they want to take away. how do we even make sense of that? how do we believe in ANYONE? how can you abandon us in the lion's den and yet demand compassion and trust? to trust in the very hands that have left us to bleed, to burn, to fight alone?

we deserve better. we deserved someone who would stand with us when it mattered, who wouldn’t just throw in the towel and walk away when things got tough. we’re not just collateral. we’re not disposable. we’re human beings with lives, with love, with the right to exist without fear. we aren't statistics, diagrams, names forgotten on a wall. we are queer, and we are real. and she ... just left us to face down a nightmare she knows damn well is coming. so how dare they tell us to “keep faith” when they’ve shown us that our lives were never worth the fight to them. we needed someone who would dig in and say, “no, you can’t have them. not now, not ever.” and instead? we were left out in the cold to fend for ourselves. like always. like fucking always. and this isn’t just some political setback for us. this is our lives, our right to exist. we’ve fought and bled and stood through hell just to claim an inch of ground to live openly, to love who we love, and to be who we are. we deserved so much more than empty promises. and we won’t forget this.

right now, it feels like every warning, every fear we’ve had has come to life in the worst way. and let’s be real—what’s next is terrifying. I will not sugarcoat it. rights are going to be stripped away, our existence denied, our safety threatened. trump hasn’t hidden it; he’s promised it. this was supposed to be our home too. but they’re pushing us out, forcing us to hide. so please, if you need to, go back into the closet. change states if that’s what it takes. hell, think about leaving the country if you can, because it’s becoming clear that staying might mean risking everything. you do not owe anyone anything, just think of yourself first. you are your own priority.

and god .. Love. Love—something so pure, something so simple—has been twisted into a reason for others to hate us, to fear us, to hurt us. we were never supposed to be the ones people saw as a “threat.” that label should belong to hatred, to racism, to homophobia, to everything that has poisoned this world. but instead, somehow we are the ones they call dangerous. we are the ones they want to erase. and it’s maddening. what kind of world are we living in, where the fight to just exist is an endless battle? was it not love that led Eve to take that fateful bite, trusting in the bond she shared with Adam? and if love is the foundation upon which humanity was built, how can we be faulted for following its lead? of all the things we could hate, and we chose love.

if this moment feels like it’s too much, if it feels like everything you’ve fought for, every piece of yourself you’ve worked to own, every right, every dream, every bit of safety is collapsing around you -- I get it. I feel it in my bones. it feels like drowning, like being swallowed whole by a storm that never ends. the shore seems so far away. but listen to me: don’t you fucking dare let them break you. don’t let them get that satisfaction. don’t give them that power. we are not here to let monsters erase us. we’re here to outlast every single one of them. we’re here to survive and thrive. we are queer, we are real, we exist, we will continue to exist.

their power, their hatred, their cruelty—it won’t last forever. I know it's difficult to see the light at the end of this tunnel. but they are the ones who don’t belong in a world built on compassion, on love, on freedom. You are the real thing. You are here. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to feel safe, loved, and free.

if you’re feeling like there’s no point anymore, if this all feels like it’s too damn much to take, please just hang on. this fight is brutal, and sometimes it feels like it never ends. but I’m begging you—don’t give up. don’t let them have that final victory. don’t let them silence your voice, your light, your life. scream, cry, punch walls, call someone, reach out, hold on to whatever will keep you here another day, another hour. do whatever you have to do to survive this moment. because you’re needed. we need you. the world needs you.

you might not see it now, but you are a part of something big, something powerful, something they wish they could destroy but never will. you’re part of a legacy of resilience, of love, of defiance against hatred. every queer person, every person who has ever had to stand up against a world that told them they shouldn’t exist, that they should be crucified, erased, beaten up, has carried that legacy forward, passed it down so we could be here. so you could be here. and they did not survive all they did, did not fight, did not sacrifice so much just for us to lose hope. we’re still here because others fought and held on. now, it’s our turn. we owe it to them, to ourselves, to hold on with everything we have, to fight with everything in us.

and one day, I promise you, I truly pinkie promise you, that you’re going to wake up in a world that has moved beyond these hateful voices. one day, you will wake up in a world that sees you, that values you, where you don’t have to fight just to exist. you deserve to live in it, to walk in the sunlight without fear, without shame. they don’t get to take that from you. they don’t get to erase you. they don’t get to win.

this moment is hard. it’s beyond hard. but you, every single one of you, are worth it. you are not alone in this fight. you are surrounded by countless others who feel this too, who know this pain, who are holding on right alongside you.

so please, hold on. you belong, and nothing they do can change that. they cannot snuff out your light. they cannot erase your legacy. they cannot undo the love you were born to spread.

stay. fight like hell. be louder, be prouder, be everything they tell you not to be. because you are worth every ounce of this battle. and we will see the day they’re gone. we will make it through.

we too shall rise from the ashes.

to my queer family, my phoenix.

#lgbtq #us politics #elections 2024 #usa election #presidential election #elections #donald trump #fuck donald trump #lgbtq community

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fallstaticexit · 2 hours ago

Text

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Self Harm Mentioned/Implied

AN: next update our ladies will have a proper reunion but first tree farm tree farm! (Even though only the poor kids- and Bob- are the only ones super excited about it)

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [All those years I’ve spent yearning, wanting, my whole self calling for her—and now she’s here]

Nancy Narrates: [This isn’t a dream. She’s here. I can feel the warmth in her cheek]

Nancy: I- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have-

Vanessa: [laughs] It’s ok, Nancy! It’s good to see you too.

Vanessa: Wow, look at you. You’re all grown up, aren’t you?

Nancy: I- I-

Vanessa: Still filled to the brim with tears too.

Nancy: [softly] Sorry. I thought.. I thought I’d never see you again.

Vanessa: 16 years is a long time. I was worried you would have forgotten all about me.

Nancy: I could never forget you.

Vanessa: I’ve come all this way to see you.

Nancy: Have you really?

Vanessa: I know it’s been years, but I was hoping we could reconnect. I’m staying at the Fyres Hotel. Maybe we could have dinner there tonight. Catch up?

Nancy Narrates: [I had to physically restrain myself from saying yes. I realized, after all these years, I still would have followed her anywhere...but it can’t be this way. Not anymore..]

Nancy: [exhales] I can’t. I’m sorry. I had plans.

Vanessa: Ah! Well. I did pop in last minute. Maybe some other-

Nancy: You could come with me! I mean, If you like? We’re supposed to get a Christmas tree for the house; trying to set new traditions and what not.

Nancy: It’s silly but it’s important to them- my sons. I have two boys, by the way. I have to do this for them but- you’re here and I don’t know if I can see you leave again. God, am I rambling too much?

Vanessa: You want me to go tree shopping with you and your children?

Nancy: [blushes] Will you?

Vanessa: Lead the way.

Malcolm: What’s taking that lady so long!

Jonathan: Should we try and call mom again?

Geoffrey: [hums noncommittally]

Malcolm: He’s not even listening!

Bob: Hellooo? Earth to Geoffrey?

Bob: Iggy say, ‘what’s eatin’ ya, Uncle G?’

Iggy: [coos]

Geoffrey: Heh, sorry! Sorry. I guess I got alot on my mind right now.

Eliza: Is everything ok?

Geoffrey: Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah- well...I guess I’m thinking about Nance?

Eliza: What’s wrong with Nancy?

Geoffrey: I’ve been thinking about what happened on our anniversary trip.

Bob: Yeah? What was it?

Malcolm: Mommy’s here!! Mommy’s here!!

Malcolm: Er, who’s that with my mommy?

Bob: Well, I’ll be damned! Talk about a throwback!

Eliza: [whistles] Oh, wow! Who is that? Is she a model?: Well, I’ll be damned! Talk about a throwback!

Geoffrey: Vanessa Villareal?

Nancy: These are my sons, Jonathan and Malcolm.

Vanessa: Oh! Oh, Nancy, they are beautiful.

Malcolm: Who are you, lady!

Nancy: Don’t be rude, darling. Vanessa is- was- she’s my..

Vanessa: I’m your mother’s best friend.

Jonathan: I’m Jonathan, but call me Johnny. This loud mouth is Malcolm.

Vanessa: Johnny it is. You must get those cool, blue eyes from your mom’s brother.

Jonathan: You knew my Uncle Nathan?

Vanessa: No, but I saw a picture once, a long time ago.

Vanessa: [turns to Malcolm] And you look just like your mother.

Malcolm: Are you a movie star too?

Vanessa: [chuckles] No, I’m not a movie star.

Malcolm: Then who are you lady?

Vanessa: I’m your Auntie V. You can call me that, if you like.

Malcolm: Aunt V, are you gonna pick out a tree with us?

Vanessa: You bet. You should know, I have a keen eye.

Nancy: Sorry I’m late..

Geoffrey: Better late than never. I see you had an eventful day.

Malcolm: No more talking! Let’s go already!

Jonathan: I want to find our tree with mom!

Malcolm: Well I’m taking daddy!

Bob: Alright! Long time no see, VV! Man, it’s been a while, huh?

Vanessa: Just V is fine. Billy, right?

Bob: [sighs] It’s Bobby. This is my wife, Eliza and this cool guy is Iggy.

Vanessa: [sheepishly] Right. Nice to meet you. Wasn’t there another one of you?

Bob: [chuckles] Cassie. We still keep in touch. She’s a travel blogger now. And I’m sure you remember ol’ Geoffrey here.

Geoffrey: Good seeing you, Vanessa.

Vanessa: Likewise.

Bob: Heck yeah! Let the festivities begin!

Jonathan: This one! This is the perfect tree, right, Mom?

Nancy: Mhm. Yes, that’s nice- I’ll be right back.

Jonathan: Oh..

Bob: Alright, what’s going on? You can tell me, it’s just us guys now, and Iggy here is great at keeping secrets.

Geoffrey: Nance was so sad on our trip, sadder than usual. I haven’t seen her so low since- well, since Vanessa left. And she kept apologizing to me.

Bob: You’ve mentioned before she gets in a mood sometimes, right?

Geoffrey: Well, yeah... that’s not all. I saw these bruises on the inside of her thigh.

Bob: [eyes widen] You think she’s hurting herself?

Geoffrey: Is that it, you think? At first I thought they were- you know, hickies?

Bob: Whoa. Hickies? On Nancy?

Geoffrey: [snorts] That’s crazy, right?

Bob: You should talk to her. If she is harming herself, you should get her help, bud.

Geoffrey: And if it’s not that...

Bob: Then, that’s another kind of conversation. But this is Nancy we’re talking about. You two have been bit by the love bug since high school. I can’t imagine her having an affair with some other guy.

Nancy: Hi.

Vanessa: Hi.

Nancy: Sorry if I’m being...odd. I guess, I’m still getting used to seeing you.

Vanessa: I don’t think you’re being odd. I think you’re being you.

Nancy: Is that a bad thing?

Vanessa: [giggles] No, not at all. You haven’t changed and it’s refreshing.

Nancy: Ah. Well. You haven’t either. I mean..you still feel like my Vanessa.

Nancy Narrates: [All those questions I craved answers for came rushing back to me the more I looked at her. Was my loving her just a girlish memory of our past? Did she ever hear my voicemail? Was it worth mentioning after almost 2 decades apart? After I’ve already married and had children? After I’ve sworn to dedicate my all to them-]

Vanessa: So, about that dinner. Are you free tonight?

#the art of being seen #the landgraabs #tw self harm mentioned #tw self harm #mentioned only #sims 4 simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 stories #sims 4 #sims

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sinnaminsuga · 2 days ago

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𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 - mob boss!chan x reader

wc: 3,519

cw: some threats of violence, a little angsty but happy ending, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you loved him, more than anything. but being a secret was never what you wanted. the gilded cage you seemed to exist exclusively in was suffocating you, so you decided it was time to get out. but chan wont let you go that easily.

a/n: i was driving and clearly i was not paying attention because thats when this idea was born. as usual this was beta'd by bestie @httpdwaekki and she sourced the pretty pictures for me too. enjoy!

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), breeding kink if you squint, general roughness, threats of violence (not toward the reader), chan has a gun. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

the creak of the church doors flying open should have startled you like it did everyone else, but you knew better. it was only a matter of time before he came for you. he didn't like his things to go missing. truthfully, you were shocked it even took this long.

the click of his (no doubt expensive) shoes on the shiny wooden floor of the church hung in the air like the ticking of a clock, counting down to either your demise or your bliss you weren't sure which one. after a long pause you turned your head just enough to face him.

“can we help you?” you asked, more nonchalant than anyone else would have been in a situation like this. the muffled gasps and muttering from the crowd in front of you almost made you laugh but you held it in.

the charged energy in the room was due to the fact that the man interrupting your wedding was none other than the most fearsome businessman and gangster this city had ever seen. but to you? he was your asshole ex boyfriend.

“oh can you help me? that's what you're going to say? isn't this a little much, yeobo?” he replied, voice dripping with condescension and his hand over his heart in mock surprise.

“a little much? god you're so out of touch it's actually insane christopher. news flash, you're not the groom, you're not even supposed to be here!” you seethed, fully turning to face him. your groom (hand selected by your parents) stood next to you shaking like a leaf. you could feel the nervous sweat from his hand slicking the surface of your palm and it made your skin crawl so you dropped his hold as you stared fiercely down the aisle.

chan's face split into the wide grin you’d once been accustomed to seeing. “are you done now? you've gotten your attention and you've pissed me off, the job is done. let's go.” he said, walking further down the aisle toward you.

“jesus christ, you really are insane! i should have listened when people told me you were a full on fucking basket case but no. i was stupid enough to fall in love with you. fat lot of good that did for me!” you shouted at his approaching form.

you could feel your skin heating up and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears you were so mad. who the hell did he think he was, intruding on your life like this?! it's his fault you were in this situation anyway!

***

you had been with chan for 3 years, and in that time he made it a point to keep your relationship a secret. it hurt seeing his face splashed on newspapers and tabloids all over the city speculating on who he might be dating or who he’d been seen with recently. it hurt even more when he recapped nights where he was out to dinner with his men or allies and their wives. you couldn't help but feel like it was because you weren't enough. you felt like you weren't pretty enough, weren't tough enough, weren't worthy to be seen outside his penthouse apartment. and a girl can only take so much of that for so long.

so a few months ago on a particularly lonely night of chan being out doing god knows what with lord knows who, you packed only your sentimental personal belongings (nothing he purchased for you, which was a hell of a lot of your things), wrote a note saying nothing more than “no one took me, not that you'd care even if they did. i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer. goodbye.” and walked out his door for the last time.

the fancy things he could provide for you behind closed doors weren't enough to soothe the searing pain in your soul of feeling like the man you loved was ashamed of you. three years together and not even a hint at things changing any time soon was enough to make you return home to your parents and agree to the arranged marriage they had been working on as they had no knowledge of the relationship you were already in. and who knows, maybe you could learn to love your soon-to-be husband Seo-jun.

***

you grabbed the skirt of your simple wedding dress and stomped down the few stairs of the platform, heading toward chan. when you finally stood in front of him you could see the darkness under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping. his hair was gorgeous as usual but a little longer than he was used to wearing it. and his knuckles were raw and bruised. you almost felt bad for him but then, you remembered he made the bed he was lying in so why should you care about how uncomfortable it might be?

“why are you so upset with me yeobo? hmm? what did i do that was so bad you had to leave me in the middle of the night? i took care of you didn't i? anything you asked for, i gave it to you.” chan asked, grabbing your hand. something dark flashed in his eyes and his upper lip curled when his fingers felt Seo-jun's ring on your finger. “what made you hate me so much that you ran off to be with this fucking nobody?”

“you just don't get it. and you never did. that's part of the problem chris. you don't see me. you don't know me. no one did.” you murmured, taking your hand back and smoothing the fabric of your dress, eyes cast down. “with Seo-jun we can walk down the street holding hands and he doesn't think twice about it. we can have dinner in a restaurant, one that has other people in it. not one that's been emptied out and all the blinds closed and the staff paid to keep their mouths shut.” you inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “i couldn't do that with you. and the worst part is, i don't think you even wanted to. you were happy to exclude me from things. happy to hide me. but i don't want that. i never did. and if you had no intentions of marrying me, it was my responsibility to myself to find someone who would.” you dabbed your fingers under your eyes and sniffled before straightening your back and meeting his eyes. you weren't prepared to see the agony in his face.

“i- i don't...i didn't know...i didn't know that is how you saw it all, how you saw me. i'm so sorry sweetheart. i wish you had talked to me.” chan breathed. he reached out his right hand and set it on your shoulder, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumb. after a moment he slid it up to cradle the back of your neck and tug you closer to him.

“i should have explained. i should have been more perceptive. i never wanted you to feel this way, i swear i didnt.” chan’s voice shook as he spoke to you.

“well it's too late now. please just go. please.” you whispered, trying to back away from him. you couldn't talk about this anymore. but in your attempt to move away from him, his grip on you tightened. he pulled you toward him forcefully enough that you were now chest to chest.

“you think that i will ever let you go again? i stayed away when you left, i thought maybe you needed time to be angry at me for whatever it was and then you'd come back when you were ready. but then i saw your face in the newspaper, the wedding announcement section no less. and i laughed. i laughed because surely that couldn't be true.” a bitter laugh rattled out of chan's mouth, flames of wild jealousy flickering in his eyes.

“as long as there is air in my lungs and my heart is beating in my chest, you will never belong to another man. ever. do you understand me?” he growled.

“i told you in my note and i'll tell you again now to your face, i wont be in a cage anymore. i cant do that to myself chris. i won’t. besides, you never would have married me. you just want to possess me, but you don't want anyone to know that you do.” you said softly, tears finally slipping down your cheeks unrestrained.

“why do you keep saying that? why do you think i'm ashamed of you?” he pleaded, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“what else am i left to think when you keep me hidden away in your penthouse? i'm not invited to dinners. i'm not invited to parties. no one you know, knows i exist! that's why every person in this room is so shocked to see you here! no one had any idea we were together, because that's what you wanted. i was a toy for you and now that someone else has me you're upset. don't you understand how painful that is for me?!” you wailed, not wanting to keep talking about it. you pleaded with your eyes for him to stop this torture but he was having none of it.

“are you insane? you think i wanted to keep us a secret? i wanted to tip toe around with you? no! but i had to! i know you think you know what i do but you have no idea the dangers that come with it. you are my most prized possession and the very knowledge of that is ammunition for some people in my world.” chan cried. “i would have loved nothing more than to scream it from the rooftops how much i fucking love you but i knew that would put you in danger and if anything ever happened to you i would have burned the world to ash. but the idea of your safety is out the window now, you forced my hand with this wedding bullshit and now it's all out in the open. everybody fucking knows now!” he bellowed.

realization washed over you like a bucket of ice water. he was right. you never considered that you might be in harms way if his enemies knew of your existence.

“i couldn't fucking marry you because then our marriage would be public record. anyone digging into me would find you that way. i wasn't willing to lay your life on the fucking line like that. is a wedding what you want? you wanna marry me?” chan asked, a mischievous air suddenly surrounding him. your subconscious overrode any sort of common sense and forced you to nod yes like some kind of sick twisted muscle memory.

the next thing you knew he was pulling you back down the aisle toward the small raised platform, the audience whispering behind you. as he approached your groom you held your breath, worried about what he would say.

“seo-jun is it?” he asked and seo-jun nodded. the fear was coming off of him in waves, why your parents paired you with this man you would never understand. you were far too argumentative to be with a weak man. “okay, so seo-jun what's going to happen now is i'm going to marry your fiance okay? get out of my way please, i'll only ask the one time so remember that.” chan said, his voice sickly sweet with a hint of ominous threat. seo-jun just nodded and ran off to cower behind his parents in the first row of seats. chan turned to face the officiant before speaking again. “alright let's start.”

the officiant gulped before he spoke with a shaky voice, “sir i can't marry you two. you don't even have a marriage license with the correct names on it.” this was obviously the incorrect response because chan reached into his coat and pulled out his gun, pressing it to the underside of the officiant's jaw. the rabid look in his eyes was one you were familiar with, he was incredibly worked up now.

“i don't recall asking for your sage advice, did anyone hear me ask for his advice?” he addressed the audience with his question. the crowd murmured a chorus of no’s and chan turned back to the man at gunpoint. “open your stupid fucking book and marry us or i'll blow your fucking brains out, got it? okay, good.” the officiant nodded frantically as chan pulled the gun away, tucking it back into the holster you knew he wore on his side.

you were very much in shock, and oddly enough very much turned on by his public display of aggression. you were finally getting what you always dreamed of with chan but you weren't totally happy. you didn't get to plan the wedding of your dreams with him, and this small event just didnt feel right.

“chris we can't do this. not like this. i want to plan something real, something with you. can we do that? please?” you asked, tugging on his hands.

“oh. of course we can do that sweetheart. but can we do this too? just like a practice? we’re already here and you look so pretty.” he said with his lopsided grin you could never say no to. so you giggled and nodded, and proceeded with the ceremony.

after the exchanging of vows, a cutting look at seo-jun from chan about the wedding band he’d chosen for you, and some muttering from chan about ‘none of this is good enough' the officiant pronounced you man and wife. the crowd reaction was mild as they were all still so confused and terrified, but you didn't care. you were floating. and soon as he heard the words “you may now kiss your bride” chan tugged you to him and planted his lips on yours. he swept his tongue into your mouth and you whined into the kiss. god you'd missed this, no one kissed you like chan did. he broke away for a moment just to stare at you.

“everybody get the fuck out.” every person in the church fled at chan's command, some squealing as they left. the two men he arrived with left as well, closing the doors behind them. you looked around confused, not sure why he would do that as you hadn't gotten your chance to walk down the aisle hand in hand. “channie what are you doing?” you asked.

a wicked smile appeared on his face as he replied “my wife and i need to consummate this marriage, i didn't want them here for that.” heat settled low in your belly at his words and you felt your face flush. surely he couldn't be serious! but evidently he was as he pulled you further across the platform to the altar.

he lifted you and set you down on top of the altar and pushed your legs apart to slot himself in between, yanking your dress up your legs to pool around your hips. chan planted open mouthed kisses across your exposed collarbone, one hand kneading your breast, the other reaching between you to grind against your clit. you threw your head back at the sudden pleasure.

“you let him in here? you let seo-jun touch you like i do?” he grunted against your mouth.

“nuh-uh. told him i wanted to wait. wasn't ready to give myself to another man.” you said, choking down a moan.

“good. he seems nice, i really didn't want to have to kill him.” chan laughed out into your neck. you pawed at his chest in an attempt to open his shirt but the buttons proved to be too difficult for your lust addled brain so you tore it open instead. and what you saw made you stop short.

right over his heart swooped dark black strokes of ink in your handwriting, the tattoo reading “i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer.” it took your breath away and tears welled in your eyes. the weight of everything that had transpired hung heavy in the air between you and chan knew that so instead of speaking right away he leaned in, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you with the most passion he could. so many words unspoken poured out of your mouths and into that kiss.

“here's what's going to happen now sweetheart. i'm gonna flip you around, bend you over, and fuck you until you see stars okay? it's been too long.” he explained as he maneuvered your body to the position he was describing. his big hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you submitted to him like you always did, leaning forward until your cheek was pressed to the marble of the altar.

the jingling of his belt behind you made you clench around nothing, the ache of being empty taking over. chan bunched your skirt up once again before savagely tearing your panties from your body. two of his big fingers slid through your wetness before sinking into you, punching a moan from your chest.

“gonna make it hurt baby, stretch you out jus’ the way you like okay? daddy’s gonna take such good care of you. always remember i love you okay sweetheart? because im going to fuck you like i really really don't.” he whispered into your ear, planting a kiss on the side of your head. then he was lining up with your entrance and sliding all the way in without stopping.

and he was right, the stretch hurt but really it always did. he was just so big, but you liked the burn. you liked still feeling him the next day. you could feel your eyelids drooping and your body relaxing as he started to move.

“fucking hell sweetheart. a few months away from me and i have to retrain this pussy to take me. so fucking tight.” chan ground out as his powerful hips slammed him in and out of you over and over again. your cunt was drooling all over his cock, almost as much as your mouth was all over the altar.

“still can't believe you ran from me. how about i put a baby in you, then you can't go anywhere. there's not a single place on this earth where i won't fucking find you, you got that?” he spat, lacing his hand into your hair and yanking your head up. all you could get out was a measly “uh-huh” but it seemed to be enough because he growled and started pistoning his thick length into you at a new angle, slamming the head into your g-spot.

chan reached down and wrapped a big hand around the back of your left thigh, lifting your leg and laying it flat on the altar, opening you up more for him. he slid his fingertips down between your legs and rubbed at your clit. if you weren't already sweating and drooling, surely that would have been the thing to do it.

“slutty little pussy missed me huh? she was all lonely and empty without daddy to take care of her. c’mon baby, keep squeezing me, yeah just like that pretty girl. so perfect.” he groaned as he did his best to bruise you from the inside.

at this point you were as boneless as you'd ever been, you truly did miss getting dicked down like this. chan had always been the best fuck of your life and you hadn't realized how much you missed it until now. “please make me cum daddy. need it so bad.” you mumbled incoherently, eyes glazed over.

chan laughed, a bitter sound tumbling from his lips. “those little fingers of yours couldn't even come close to treating you like my dick huh? bet you were riding that dildo i got you, wishing it was me.” he hissed out between his clenched teeth. all you could do was moan and nod because he was right.

“go on then. cum for me pretty baby. do it for me, need to feel it. then i'll fill you up just like you like.” he said, throwing his head back as he thrust into you with the harshest force you'd ever experienced. a few more direct hits to your g-spot and it was over, you were screaming and spasming around him, trapping him inside you for a moment.

“jesus fucking christ- oh god fuck that feels so good. keep squeezing me, yessss just like that baby yeah. fuck you're so beautiful like this. ah- ah- fuck fuck fuck 'm gonna cum. gonna cum in this perfect little cunt baby. FUCK!” chan gasped out, hips stilling as he spilled inside of you, warming you from the inside out. he collapsed over your back and breathed hard against your spine.

after gathering his breath and his thoughts he leaned forward, licking up a rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of your neck before whispering into your ear “cmon mama, lets get you home. i have a lot of apologizing to do.”

THE END

#jd's archive #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan fanfic #chan smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #stray kids fanfiction #skx x reader #skz imagins #skz fic

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