#which i doubt but better safe than sorry

[robotic-poet]

having to pretend to be a #girlpower super girlboss capitalist liberal in order to get along w roommates has to be the deepest struggle of all. We were watching the kardashians and my roommate was like. "yknow i get they're rich or whatever but you have to admit they're kind of feminist icons for how they're some of the only powerful women in media" and i had to be like. chews glass. haha yeah so true i agree they're kinda girlbooss ^^is a communist btw

[eyesoftxmorrow]

idc how yaoiful joe and layton get i refuse to ship them in any way shape or form until we get full confirmation ab who joe actually is

[lovelybucky1]

Little Red

warnings: dubcon, fem!reader, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, age gap, breeding, 18+ minors dni // divider by @strangergraphics

You know it isn’t safe to walk alone in the forest. The trees are dense, the paths are windy, and dangerous animals lurk in the underbrush, stalking their prey. You convince yourself that you’ll be fine; you’re only taking a short walk to your grandmother’s house with a basket of treats. Technically you’ve never made the trek by yourself before, but it can’t be that hard, can it?

You were overly confident when you walked into the woods, but you were quickly humbled when you got turned around. You came to an intersection of paths and you couldn’t remember which to take, so you took your best guess. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one. As luck would have it, it started to rain during your walk, leaving your cloak, dress, and shoes soaked. You’re cold, uncomfortable, and lost.

After a mile or so more of walking in your wet socks, you stumble across a house. It isn’t your grandmother’s cottage with the lush garden in the front, but a log cabin with an overgrown lawn. You figure that someone inside must be able to give you directions, so you walk up to the door and knock.

At first, there’s no answer, so you try again. You can hear some shuffling from inside and you nervously squeeze some water out of your cloak as you wait for the person to greet you. When the door opens, a large man appears, blocking your view inside the house.

“What do you want?” the man asks with a gruff, slightly irritated voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I got lost on the way to my grandmother’s house. Could you point me in the right direction?” you ask. You feel intimidated by the man’s intense eyes, but you hope your nerves don’t come across in your voice.

The man opens the door wider and steps out, allowing you a better look at him. He is in a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face is scruffy like he hasn’t shaved in a week. His hair is a little wild, along with the look in his eyes. He’s undeniably handsome, in a rugged, lumberjack kind of way. You can tell even from under his shirt that he has muscles, and you have to stop your mind from picturing them.

The man raises a thick eyebrow at you as he takes in your appearance. You’re too distracted to notice the way he licks his lips.

“A little girl like you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he says.

“I know, sir, but I thought I knew where I was going,” you say, feeling embarrassed to explain your lack of direction to a stranger.

He sighs through his nose and opens the door wide enough for you to squeeze past. “Get out of the rain ‘fore you catch a cold.”

Accepting the kind invite, you walk inside the cabin. It’s cozy inside, with not much more than a bed in the corner, a wood stove, and a dining table. Books, candles, and bottles were strewn around, making the place look well-lived.

The man pulls out a chair at the table for you and you sit down. Wordlessly, he pulls your cloak over your head and drapes it near the woodstove to dry. The cabin is thankfully warm, and your frozen hands start to thaw. You quietly thank him, then introduce yourself. In return, he tells you his name is Logan, but he doesn’t offer any more information than that.

“You want some tea to warm you up?” he asks, and that rough voice is music to your ears.

“That would be great.”

He pours you a cup of hot tea from the kettle on the woodstove and you accept it gratefully. The tea is a bit too hot and burns your tongue, but the warmth inside your belly is still welcome. He watches you intently as you drink it, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.” He doesn’t smile, but he gives you a soft kind of look. “It’s nice in here,” you say, looking around at the cabin’s interior.

“Don’t get many visitors,” he says.

“I doubt you get lost girls on your doorstep very often,” you joke.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he says, finally cracking a smile. “Been a long time since I’ve had something as sweet as you.”

The comment strikes you as odd, but before you can think too much about it, he sits down next to you. You get a closer look at his scruffy facial hair, his slightly wild eyes, and his teeth. When he opens his mouth to place his cigar inside, you catch a glimpse of his sharp canine teeth. They’re a lot sharper than your own, sharper than any you’ve ever seen on a person before. They intrigue you, and you want to get a closer look but your view is blocked by the end of his cigar being put into his mouth.

He must catch you staring at his mouth, because he gives you a small smirk around the cigar as he lights it.

“I really should get going,” you say, putting your empty mug down on the table.

“You only just got here,” he says. He places his hand on your wrist, gently pinning it to the table. “You’re still cold.”

You shiver at the feeling of his large, warm hand on your still-clammy skin but you try to brush it off. “My grandmother’s expecting me. I don’t want her to think anything bad happened to me.”

Through a puff of smoke, Logan says, “but something bad did happen to you.” You furrow your brows in confusion. “You got lost in the woods and wandered into a stranger’s house for safety.”

His grip on your wrist tightens and fear starts to build in your stomach. He grins at you, but it’s not a kind look. It’s sharp and predatory, like he’s about to eat you whole.

“Please let go,” you whisper.

“You’re mine now, dollface. I’m not lettin’ you get away.” You try to tug your arm back, but he’s too strong. “Even if you did run, you don’t know where you’re going. There’s monsters a lot worse than me out there, y’know.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your mind races to figure out how to get out of this situation. You’re in the middle of nowhere, well and truly lost, and the only person around is the man currently bruising your arm.

“Monsters that would rip a pretty thing like you to pieces. Not me, though. I know how to appreciate a delicate little flower.”

Logan stands up and tugs you to your feet. He moves his hands to your waist and holds you in front of him. You don’t bother trying to move because you know your efforts will be futile and likely will anger him. He looks down at you hungrily, and this time, you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth.

“Your teeth are so sharp,” you whisper.

Logan grins. “You like ‘em, sweetheart?” As afraid as you are, you do like them. “You wanna feel ‘em?”

Hesitantly and with a trembling hand, you reach up and touch the point of his tooth with the pad of your finger. The tooth is blunt enough not to pierce your skin, but you’re certain that if he bit down, he’d have no trouble drawing blood.

“You’re shaking,” he points out, as if you weren’t well aware of that fact.

Logan grasps your wrist and brings your hand back down to your side, pinning it there. He holds eye contact with you for a moment before leaning in close to you. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your skin.

His lips touch before his teeth, but the feeling is unmistakable. It’s a hot, painful pinch but he’s obviously restraining himself because you don’t feel a trickle of blood running down your neck.

You gasp and try to move away from him, but his hold on you is too strong. He chuckles against your skin and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs.

Logan’s hands wander from your waist to underneath your skirt. He pushes it up around your middle and he leans back so he can catch a glimpse of your panties. He growls low in his throat when he sees the scrap of pink cotton between your thighs.

He’s not even holding you anymore, but you’re frozen in place. You know you should be afraid. You are afraid of the man who's been threatening to eat you, but your body doesn’t seem to be on the same page as your mind. Fear and a strange sense of arousal mix in your stomach, and the feeling is only strengthened by the hungry look in Logan’s eyes. He sniffs the air, and a smirk forms on his lips.

His fingers toy at the elastic band of your panties before they slip beneath them. Your pussy is traitorously wet and Logan is delighted to learn this.

“You got a needy cunt, huh, doll?” he asks. You shake your head, but there’s really no use denying it. “Seems to me like you do.”

He pushes the fabric of your panties entirely to the side, exposing you to the air. He strokes over your lips with his fingers, and he slowly pushes his middle finger in. You take a shaky inhale at the feeling, and you pray your knees don’t give out.

“She takes me so easy. This isn’t why you came here, is it? Put on this whole act just to get this pussy played with?”

“No!” you whine. “My grandmother really is waiting for me.”

“Forget about her. Just you ‘nd me now.”

He pulls his finger out of you and wipes your wetness on the side of your thigh. He then bends down to lift you off the ground. He’s so strong and you’re powerless to do anything to stop him from carrying you over to the mattress in the corner of the cabin.

He lays you down and covers your body with his own before you can attempt to crawl away. He grabs your ankles and bends your legs so your pussy is presented to him. His finger returns inside of you, thrusting and stroking your inner walls.

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans, not wanting him to hear how much you’re enjoying this. You don’t want to be enjoying this, but he knows all the right places to touch you.

He works a second, then third finger inside you. Your arousal makes the slide easy, but this is the widest you’ve ever been stretched before. If he thinks you need three of his thick fingers to be open enough for his cock, you’re nervous for what’s to come.

“This ain’t your first time, is it, kid?” he asks fondly as he brushes his thumb on your clit, just enough to tease.

You’re afraid to answer his question. If you lie and say it isn’t, then he might go rougher on you. If you tell him you’re a virgin, however, it might awaken a different kind of beast.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, bet no one’s been in here before. That right, baby? You can tell me.”. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, your belly burning with shame and desperation. “Fuck,” he growls. “‘Course you fuckin’ are.”

He removes his fingers from your cunt and works open his fly, not caring that your wetness is getting on the denim of his jeans. He pushes them down far enough to free his cock from his boxers. Your fears have come true, and he is fucking huge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow,” he says as he grasps his dick and strokes it. “You’ve been so good for me.”

He positions himself at your entrance and hits his cock on your clit a few times. You jolt at the contact, but the stretch of it inside of you is more shocking. Luckily, he stops once the tip of it is inside, allowing you to prepare yourself for the rest of the length.

“How’s it feel, dollface?” he asks.

“Good,” you squeak out. It does feel good, but it’s not enough. You’ve felt empty since he pulled his fingers out of you and you need to be full again.

“Can you take the rest or do I need to fuck you like this?” he says, pulling the tip out just to push it back in. You let out an involuntary moan which encourages him to do it again. He gives you shallow little thrusts which don’t do much for him, but have you whining pathetically. “All this just for the tip? The whole thing’s gonna blow your fuckin’ mind.”

“Please give it to me,” you say hurriedly, before the humiliation can catch up with you.

“Yeah?” he asks, cocky. “You were so scared before, but now you’re beggin’ for it?”

He slowly pushes in further, feeding your hungry pussy the rest of his cock. His tip hits your cervix before he bottoms out, and you whimper at the contact.

“Little puss can’t take all of me. Fuckin’ adorable,” he says as if he’s talking to himself.

He begins to fuck you, making sure not to go too deep and hurt you. If your mind wasn’t so clouded with pleasure, you’d find it odd that this monster is making an effort to be careful with you. You expect him to push in without any prep or worry for your comfort.

“Squeezin’ the fucking life outta me,” he growls. His hands grip your hips possessively and he uses them to control his thrusts. “Virgin cunt’s always been my favorite.”

You wonder how many times he’s done this; taken a lost girl’s virginity just because she wandered up to his door. You wonder what kind of state he’s going to leave you in, if you’ll be able to walk away or if you’ll have to stay in his bed while you recover.

“Fuck,” you curse, accidentally letting it slip when he bumps you cervix.

“That’s a dirty word, sweetheart. Am I making you feel that good?”

He’s making your fucking head spin, that’s how good he is. You don’t have more than your fingers to compare him to, but having someone else bully their way into you is so much better than your own fingers that can’t reach deep enough.

“Yes, fuck, Logan.”

“Keep fuckin’ begging for me, angel. I’ll give it to you good.”

He moves his hand onto the mattress next to your head and he braces himself on it. The new position gives him leverage to fuck into you, rutting quick and hard. The slap of skin against skin sounds like thunder in your head, and the flash of his white teeth is the lightning.

His cock is reshaping your pussy, making room for him to sit comfortably inside of you. He is claiming you in every sense of the word, and you’re happy to surrender yourself to him as long as he keeps making you feel this way.

“You were fucking made for me. My little girl, feelin’ so fucking good around me,” he mutters.

Logan’s pace gets progressively quicker and rougher, and he’s getting more animalistic. He’s growling and panting above you, and that wild look in his eyes is back. Like this, he looks exactly like the monsters from the stories you were told as a kid. Feral, aggressive, preying on innocent girls, taking virgins from their families. You’re not scared anymore, though. You’re being throughly fucked by the big bad wolf, and you’re feeling the best you’ve ever felt in your life.

Logan moves so his elbows are bracketing your head and his chest is flush against yours. He fucks you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. You manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, and it only takes a few touches to have you cumming around him. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and he curses under his breath at the feeling.

“Good girl, keep cumming for me,” he praises. “Knew you were gonna be the perfect mate.”

His words don’t register in your hazy mind until it’s too late. He’s grunting, growling out your name as he shoots his seed as deep inside of you as it’ll go. Your over-sensitive, aching pussy twitches at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you.

He rides out the waves of pleasure, but he doesn’t pull out of you even when he’s finished. He’s still on top of you, pinning you down but having enough mind not to crush you under his weight. His cum is plugged inside you, prevented from spilling out.

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, there is silence. The rain outside has stopped, and the only sound from inside is the mix of your breathing, both quickened from exertion.

You’re not sure how long it is until Logan sits up and pulls out of you, but it feels like ages. You’re boneless and tired, having had every bit of energy and pleasure drained from your body.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he smiles down at you. He moves to lay next to you on the bed, turning your body so he can slot himself behind you. He pulls you flush to his chest and you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

“So good,” you attempt to say, but it comes out a slurred mess.

He chuckles softly at that. “Get some sleep. You’re gonna need your energy.”

You don’t know what he means by that, but you decide you don’t care right now. You fall asleep listening to the loud, steady beat of his heart.

And what a stupid little lamb you are, turning your back on the wolf who’s wanted to eat you since he first laid eyes on you.

[doctorsiren]

Okay, doodle request:

Reigen meeting Serizawa before Claw got to him. Maybe helping him start leaving his room?

I had a lot of fun with this one. I wanted it to parallel the scene of Serizawa meeting Suzuki, and so pages 6-8 are directly referenced from the manga (just in a flipped format so it reads left to right like the rest of the pages) and I also referenced some shots from the anime (like the final panel of page 10). For the dialogue in those middle pages, I referenced lines from the unofficial English translation of the manga, the official English translation of the manga, and the anime. (I was picking and choosing which lines I liked better). I also had fun with the colouring, which is something I love to do in comics especially. It starts out with Reigen in a muted, paler, desaturated palette with no highlights. But when he meets Mrs. Serizawa (I gave the name “Azumi” because it means something along the lines of “safe home/harbour”), she’s much more warmer and saturated and she has highlights. Once she starts explaining her son’s situation, that’s when Reigen has the variation of colour as well as the introduction of some small highlights. Then, the colour palette changes in every panel after that point. Serizawa is done with a grayscale palette, with the only colour on him being the bright light of the TV screen (reflecting video games as his only joy and his escape from reality). As Reigen talks to him, Reigen slowly start to lose some of that variety and saturation (AKA hope) he got from Mrs. Serizawa until he goes grayscale as well when he thinks that Serizawa might know he’s a fraud. He decides to switch up his approach and actually open up, which is what causes the variations in colour to return. Serizawa stops being grayscale in the panel where Reigen reveals that he too is lonely. (He’s a gray-blue palette, but it’s not true grayscale). The next page is in bright colours as Reigen opens up and doesn’t lie, which causes Serizawa to have bright colour as well, since now there is light and hope. In the page after that, Serizawa’s colour fades until he is grayscale again because it’s him not believing fully and still having doubts, while Reigen maintains that bright colour. (Also silly Falsettos reference on that page). I have Reigen’s colours shift from yellow until he reaches pink which is the colour I just have assigned as His Colour (since his tie is pink). Serizawa gains colour again and he shifts from that muted dark blue to finally orange (which is his colour) as he finally accepts Reigen’s help. The light from the TV is no longer coloured, and is just white, because Serizawa now has a new source of colour in his life (that being a real friend.) It ends with them being in their normal palettes at a normal happy saturation, contrasting the muted colours of the start of the comic. With the umbrella, I still wanted to include it and give it a role in the story, but in a different way from how Suzuki used it. While Suzuki used it to directly manipulate and control Serizawa, Reigen used it as a way to open up a choice for Serizawa to either let Reigen stay or make him leave. He asks Serizawa if he can sit and stay for a while since it’s raining outside and he didn’t bring an umbrella, despite clearly having done so. And then I ended the comic with a shot of the umbrella to emphasize that point.

Sorry for the long and probably unnecessary explanation. I just really love explaining my intentions and symbolisms in my art. Yeah I just had a good time over the last few days doing this :) I thought it was an interesting idea and I couldn’t think of a way to reflect it better than in a comic (which was also partially inspired by this wonderful Ageswap AU comic made by @fend13th about Reigen helping Serizawa)

[mariana-oconnor]

Types of AO3 Summary

Option 1 - The Excerpt:

The quickest, the easiest! Find a section of your fic that contains the main premise of said fic and also showcases your writing. Copy paste that into the summary box. BOOM! Done.

Best used for any fic, unless it's so short the excerpt would be the whole fic.

Option 2 - The No Frills:

Just a description of the fic. No need for drama. No need to complicate matters. Keep it simple, keep it safe.

Example: "A short character exploration of Blorbo's thoughts after Daisy leaves."

Best used for short fics, poems and fics where the style/format is more important than the plot. Or fics that tie directly into a scene/episode from canon or another fanfic.

Option 3 - The Hook:

Draw the reader's interest by giving them a set up with no conclusion. Introduce the main character(s), introduce the status quo, describe an inciting incident, leave a question in the reader's mind.

Example: "Blorbo is a barista at a coffee shop, struggling to pay their bills, but after handsome rockstar Obrolb walks into their coffee shop they find that they have to decide whether a chance at love is worth the cost of fame."

Best used for mid to long fic where there's a strong premise and follow through. Especially good for AUs. Can be expanded for more complex plots or used multiple times in one summary for multiple characters or subplots.

Option 4 - The Sitcom One-Liner:

"The one in which [over simplified description of one of the main plotlines]" This is essentially 'boil your plot down to the very simplest statement you can, oversimplify if possible. The more bizarre or unhelpful the better.

Example: "The one in which Blorbo learns to like cake".

Best used for fics with at least a little humour in them.

Option 5 - The Rule of Three:

Three is a magic number. Find three key moments in your fic and just list them. That's it. Often ends with 'not necessarily in that order' if used for comic effect. If it's an AU, establish that quickly (i.e. 'Star NHL player Blorbo…').

Example: "Blorbo makes a friend, falls in love, and almost burns to death, not necessarily in that order."

Best used for anything, really. Three is a magic number. The human brain loves things that come in threes.

Option 6 - The Trope Lure:

Why bother describing the plot? We all know AO3 readers are here for the tropes. Similar to The Sitcom One-Liner just using tropes instead of plot. Often followed by the phrase 'that nobody asked for'.

Example: "The Space western / A/B/O / Mail Order Bride fic that nobody asked for."

Often tacked on to the end of The Hook or The Excerpt as a tl;dr.

Best used for fic that plays its tropes straight with no shame or second guessing.

Option 7 - The Pre-emptive Strike:

(Not recommended) You just wrote this fic, the self doubt is consuming you. You feel the need to apologise profusely for your existence for no apparently reason. You feel cringe, you think the fic is cringe, you want everyone to know that you think the fic is cringe in case they don't like it and judge you for it.

Example: "So I fell in love with this pairing and had to write this. It's weird and terrible. Lol! I suck at summaries! Sorry!"

Best used for no fics ever. I cannot stress this enough.

(Seriously, I am begging you, don't do this. If you're planning to use this option, rethink it and do one of the others. I guarantee you more people will want to read your fic.)

Sometimes added on to any other summary as a strange disclaimer. (srsly. don't.)

Option 8 - The Unapology:

Embrace the mayhem, embrace the deep dark depths of your soul. The opposite of The Pre-emptive Strike. A combination of The No Frills and The Trope Lure that truly gives no fucks.

You have committed crimes and you are proud of them. You know what your USP is and you're going to make sure your target market finds you. Look upon my works, ye readers, and despair!

Example: "There aren't enough tentacle fics in this pairing, so I had to write one myself!"

Best used for fics with controversial/polarising tropes with all relevant details already clearly stated in the tags.

Option 9 - The Interrogation:

What if you wrote a summary entirely in questions? What if your readers had to read the fic to discover the answers? Who knows what will happen if you do this?

Example: "What happens when Blorbo McBlorbo gets his wish and Daisy doesn't make it to the plane on time? What happens when Obrolb finds out? How will this change Daisy and Blorbo's friendship?"

Best used for... I honestly don't know. This style of summary does not vibe with me. Mystery fic maybe? Sorry guys.

Option 10 - The Multipack:

Got a bunch of shorter fics in one work? No way of summarising them all without a wall of text larger than the Great Wall of China? This one is similar to The No Frills in that you're not describing the plots themselves and similar to The Trope Lure in that often broader genres and tropes are mentioned. What links those fics? Are they all in the same fandom? The same pairing? The same challenge? Just slap that right in the summary. A chapter list with 1-2 word trope/pairing summaries can be included or not.

Example: "A collection of Blorbo/Daisy/Obrolb fics based on Tumblr prompts. Chapter 1: Regency AU Chapter 2: Werewolves vs vampires Chapter 3: Ghost!Daisy Chapter 4: Space pirates!"

Best used for (obviously) works that are compilations of fic.

Option ? - The Void:

I said The Excerpt was the quickest and easiest summary to do. I lied, well... I didn't exactly lie. What is quicker and easier than not having a summary at all? After all, that's what the tags are for.

Example:

Best used for... nothing? Write a summary, guys. Please?

[reidmania]

I MISS YOU IM SORRY | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series masterlist!!

summary; Spencer calls after being broken up for a month.

warnings ; fem reader, hopeful/happy ending, angst, exes to lovers, mentions of arguments, breakups, miscommunication, avoidant reader, loving spencer, break up bc reader pushed him away bc of self doubt, pretty tame. i love this i think

an ; RAHH fic twoooooo ehehehe. risk is coming soon i just had to pump out the angst really quick ok bare w me!!

You said, "Forever, " in the end I fought it Please be honest, are we better for it? Thought you'd hate me, but instead you called And said, "I miss you", I caught it. You said, "Forever, " and I almost bought it I miss fightin' in your old apartment. Breakin' dishes when you're disappointed. I still love you, I promise. Nothin' happened in the way I wanted. Every corner of this house is haunted And I know you said that we're not talkin' But I miss you, I'm sorry

The call came as a shock. When you were holding onto the doors of your pantry, leaning back slightly as your eyes skimmed over the contents of it — Which was not a lot. You we’re thinking about that fact you needed to go grocery shopping.

How long could you avoid that?

It started right after you and Spencer broke up, where you refused to go because of the chance that you might see Spencer there. It was right between yours and his apartment so the chances weren’t completely low — and normally you and Spencer did the grocery shopping together.

It would normally consist of you dancing around the store picking up random things and Spencer watching you fondly as he pushed the cart. He would mutter something about what was healthiest and you would hum approvingly then grab the opposite of whatever he suggest because it ‘tasted better’ He would chuckle and press his lips to the top of your head.

You wanted to relive that so bad that the idea of being inside the shops without him seemed so wrong. It felt like doing something behind his back. Like watching an episode of the show you two were watching together without him. It just felt wrong.

So you decided you would go to a different shop, an hour drive away. Just to be safe, but who just had time for that?

Which was how your pantry had gotten near empty.

You still had the big bag of his coffee beans that he left here. The ones you weren’t a fan of buy it didn’t matter because Spencer would compromise and just buy both, or just yours. You had use all of yours and started using the ones he left here.

They left a bitter taste on your tongue and a sweet sensation down the back of your throat, they were strong and kept you awake for hours longer than your normal ones did — but weirdly enough; they felt like home.

The bag was brand-less, and you should’ve memorised what it was you were sure you knew. You just couldn’t remember.

How were you suppose to ask? Call him? Message him? Pop by his house and ask. You were sure if he got any soft of contact from you— about anything, you would be blocked in milliseconds. The feeling that thought provided made your stomach tighten more than you’d like to admit.

You almost stumbled over your own feet when you closed the pantry as your phone started to ring, you saw it light up with a contact but your mind paid little attention as you answered, not even actually looking at your phone, your attention elsewhere.

“Hello?” You muttered as you walked towards the coffee machine you and Spencer had decided to get as an anniversary present. To fuel both your coffee addictions. You shoulder held your phone against your ear as you grabbed the bag of coffee beans — Spencers coffee beans.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone, “Hey.” The voice. His voice. Tired and groggy as if he had just woken up but you knew him well enough to know he didn’t. You pulled your phone away from your ear as your mind clouded foggy. Your eyes danced over his contact for a moment. He was calling you — He called you. it sent familiar butterflies to your ribcage.

“Spencer?” You exhaled, despite already knowing it was him. You wondered if maybe this was some prank, if he was just calling because he needed something or maybe to call you and degrade you over every mistake you made in the ending of your relationship — you deserved that.

He had every right to hate you for how things ended, he had every right to hate you, period. You had assumed that was how he felt towards you. Hatred. You knew he loved you throughout your relationship, that wasn’t something you had to question but the idea of that still being the case after everything unfolded the way it did.. It didn’t even seem fathomable.

“Hi” He repeated. His voice was low and quiet, you didn’t know what that meant and it was driving you insane. Your feet pattered around the house suddenly feeling cold in the kitchen. Nothing but memories fogging your mind every corner you looked — that didn’t go away as you moved around the house. It was filled by him and it was consuming you whole. 

You let out a heavy breath. “Do you need something?” It didn’t come out how you wanted it to. It wasn’t harsh or anything but your voice weakened half way through your words making embarrassment creep up the back of your neck.

The other side of the phone was silent for a minute, making anxiety pool in your stomach. Your head tilted as you sat on the corner of the couch, wrapping yourself in the blanket on the couch — the one you used more often than you’d like to admit, since some night sleeping in the bed that was suppose to be shared with Spencer felt all too consuming, the way his scent lingered faintly over the sheets and his little nothings covered the window sill, his jacket still hung up in the closet.

“Spence are you okay?” The nickname fell from your lips before you could try to stop it. You heard a muffled sound on the other end of the phone making your stomach twist. Slight worry and confusion filled the wrinkles by your eyes as you squinted slightly.

“Ye- Im.. Im okay” He breathed out his voice heavy and filled with something you couldn’t place if you tried. You were sure it was an emotion you had felt since you felt a sick feeling of familiarity in your abdomen. “I just- Can we talk?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your knees pulled to your chest. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?” You asked, in your mind there was a point to this conversation, there was something specific he needed to talk to you about or why else would he call. He wouldn’t, you thought.

“No-Not like that, i just- I just want to talk to you, about anything. Whatever you want I just—” There was a pause, his voice got quiet, almost a whisper, “I miss you.” The words that left his lips buried themselves deep inside your chest, building themselves a home there.

Your head span. He said it so quietly you were scared you might’ve missed it if he said it any quieter. But you didn’t, you caught it. A deep breath left your chest as your hand came to your forehead, your mind was so focused on the fact that, he missed you. He called because he missed you. You almost forgot to answer him. You figured if he said the comment so quietly, maybe he didn’t want a reply on it, so you continued on with the conversation as the words interfered with the rhythmic beating of your heart.

“What coffee beans to do you buy?” You settled on. You heard him chuckle on the other side of the phone before passing a comment asking ‘why? You hated them’ It made your heart flutter uncomfortablely. The two of you continued talking about coffee beans for ten minutes before he muttered about how he had to go, you knew it was probably work related. But god he sounded so sad saying it.

“Spencer?” You asked softly, your voice coming out quieter than what you expected. You heard his soft hum on the other side of the phone. You didn’t want to admit how much you missed him, how your entire being craved him every minute of everyday regardless of what you did — nothing in the world could fill the him-shaped- hole that took up the space of your gut.

“I’m sorry” You apologised and you hoped it was clear you were apologising for everything, for the arguments, for the breakup, for pushing him away for no real good reason beside your own self doubt. It was the sorry you were too proud to mutter out a month ago.

There was a moment on the other side of the phone where you were almost convinced he was going to hang up — you worried you brought up what he didn’t want to talk about.

But instead, “I miss you.” He said louder this time, as if he believed you didn’t hear it the first time. The words made your stomach clench tightly and your muscles both tighten and relax at the same time.

You sigh, you should have shut up. He had to go, you know that but the words came out honestly as “I still love you” You said. You wanted to slap yourself in the face, now you really weren’t gonna be surprised if he hung up and blocked you.

There was a heavy breath, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “Well-“ He huffed, “If you still love me, and- I still love you..” He muttered out intentionally, hoping you caught on to what he was insinuating. Your mind however was captivated by the fact that, he still loved you.

“We should probably talk” He finished when you didn’t, “Please?” It was thrown in there both to use manners and to show how badly he wanted this. You weren’t ever gonna say no in the first place.

“We should. Do you need to go grocery shopping?” You asked, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you almost smiled. You could almost imagine his confusion.

“Um— I guess that depends —Do you?” He asked. You huffed out a small laugh, nodding your head absentmindedly as you realised he couldn’t see you. “Do you still go to-“

He cut you off, “No. No i started going to the one across town, about an hour away” He said, honestly. You head tilted slightly as you realised he started going to the one you were going to. The conversation continued as you both ignored — or forgot the fact he needed to go.

“Why?”

“So you didn’t feel uncomfortable if I was there when you were” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It made your stomach scrunch up and your chest to bruise your ribcage as the beating of your heart only increased.

“Let’s go grocery shopping, at our shop. Then um— you can come here and I can make you coffee?” You suggested slightly awkwardly, as you worried about the chance of rejection and the embarrassment you would feel.

“It’s a date.” He smiled, you could hear it in his voice.

“Okay.” You exhaled out.

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ MOUTHWASHING ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠-

P3

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

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Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

————

3 MONTHS LATER

You sat in the medical room, squirming in attempt to get comfortable on the small red chair. Anya sat across from you, paper in one hand, pen in the other. You were in your pajamas while she was still in her uniform. She hands you the two items before speaking.

“This is just a psych eval to see how you’re doing while working in the Tulpar with us. Then, you can head to bed.” She gives you a soft smile, easing any doubt that this was for something bigger. You hesitantly nod before glancing down at the paper, looking at the questions.

You’ve asked previously before to do it in silence, rather than her asking you the questions and you answering them. You opened up better that way, you said.

Question 1.

“How has the captain been treating you?”

You think for a moment, trying to recall any moments you’ve spoken with Captain Curly. You scribbled the word ‘fine’ down, keeping your answers short.

Question 2.

“Have you had any problems with any of your co-workers in crew 5?”

You paused. You didn’t know if you exactly had a problem with anyone, but you knew you had a few uncomfortable situations with one of them. You wrote; ‘I’ve had a few moments with Jimmy where he seemed strange”.

Question 3.

“How has working with crew 5 impacted your performance working in the space industry?”

You kept a soft expression on your face, thinking about how fun it is to hang out with your crew mates. You put down; “they’ve impacted me by including me in their work and conversations, which I think made my performance improve.”

You continue writing answers to the questions, casually glancing up at Anya from time to time. She rests on the chair, patiently waiting for you to be done. She didn’t rush you, which you were grateful for.

Question 10.

“If you were given the opportunity to quit working with crew 5, would you take that chance?”

You blink, wondering why this was a question. You scribbled down the word ‘No’ without hesitation. You lift your head, passing the paper and pen back to the older woman. She took it from you with care, placing the paper in front of her and the pen in the pen holder.

“Am I done?” You mutter, your voice soft. The calm silence of the medical room made you feel at ease, knowing that once you step out of this room you won’t feel the same way. Anya turned her head back to you and nodded, sending you on your way.

You stood up, giving her a slight wave before walking out the door. You felt exhausted. Obviously you’ve felt this way for a while, but never this bad. You sniffle, feeling like you could melt through the cracks of the floor as you drag your feet, making you way towards your crush’s room in the sleeping quarters.

You don’t know if you could call it a crush, but it was certain that you felt something for that man. You felt your heartbeat get faster whenever you were near him, and you sometimes stumbled upon your words. Typical crush stuff, right?

You rubbed your eyes before knocking on the brunette’s door, wanting to huddle close to him and fall asleep. As embarrassing as it sounds, it’s true. You felt safe with him. You’re pulled out of your thoughts as the door opens, revealing Daisuke in his sleepwear. He also looked like he could fall asleep any moment. Or maybe..

“Oh shit, did I wake you? I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, regretting your decision. “H-Here, I’ll go, alright?” You started to step back, only to be stopped by a hand loosely attached to your forearm. The look of panic floods Daisuke’s face before he shook his head.

“No, you’re fine! Please, come in.. I only fell asleep for a few minutes, don’t worry.” He mumbles, attempting to comfort you. You relax against his hold, his eyes softening as he lets you go. His door widens, inviting you in. You accept, stepping into his room. As you did so, his hand lightly glazed yours, causing your fingers to curl around his.

Once he shut the door, you turned around, his hand still in yours. You held it gently as you suddenly felt the urge to risk your friendship in hopes of it becoming more.

“Daisuke, can I ask you a question?” You murmured, staring into his eyes. A soft smile ran across his lips before he spoke. “You already did.” You grumble, not in the mood for his games.

“C’mon, you know what I meant!” You rolled your eyes as he chuckled, dropping his act. “Yeah, yeah. What’s up?” You took a deep breath in, feeling your face heat up from embarrassment. “Do you want to..” You mentally punch yourself in the face as your palm gets sweaty. Maybe holding his hand wasn’t the best choice.

“W-Would you like to be my boyfriend?” You mutter quietly, his ears barely picking up on the words coming from your mouth. The room goes silent for a few seconds as Daisuke registers what you said. You avoid eye contact, fearing his rejection.

He opens his mouth before stuttering, surprised by your confession. “R-..Really!?” His voice is filled with excitement before he grasps both of your hands, holding them in his. “Of course I would.. I’d love to.” Daisuke lets go of you completely before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his grasp.

Relief washes over you as you realized he didn’t reject you. You wrap your arms around him, your hands resting on his upper back. “At least the embarrassment is over.” You lightly giggle, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck.

His hand moves from your back to behind your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he played with it. As he did so, you felt your eyelids weigh down on you. You practically rely on Daisuke to keep you from falling, your body almost giving out on you.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you were worn out. He felt your body get heavier as he held you up, guiding you to his bed. He chuckled as you fell back and laid down right next to you.

You embraced each other, your arms over his neck and his arms over your back. Your chin rested on top of his head as you stroked his hair.

His hands lightly rubbed your back, the warmth of your body and the sound of your heartbeat soothing him. Suddenly, you heard sniffling. You looked down to see Daisuke’s face covered in tears, the sound muffled. Your brows widen in surprise.

“Daisuke? Hey, what’s wrong?” You whisper, concern written all over your face. His grip on you tightens as he mutters. “I-.. *sniff* I didn’t think anyone.. *sniff* liked me like this. Like the way you do, I mean.. I’m s-sorry, I shouldn’t be *sniff* crying..”

A gentle grin formed on your lips before you kissed his temple, whispering against his skin as you chuckled.

“Of course I like you. In fact, I love you. Daisuke, you mean so much to me. No matter what happens.. please don’t forget that.” You murmured, setting another gentle kiss on his forehead.

He smiled up at you like a little boy who just got candy. He snuggled closer, hiding his face in your chest once more. You pet his head, twirling the strands of his hair around your pointer finger.

You felt his body weight get lighter, light snores leaving his nose. You close your eyes, not ignoring the ache in you to rest any longer. Just after a few minutes, you felt your body relax, sending you into a peaceful sleep.

————

1 WEEK LATER

You knocked on the door to the maintenance room, hearing Swansea’s voice on the other side. You waited patiently until the door opened, revealing the short haired brunette.

“Ah, Y/N.. how’s it going?” He asked, expanding the door’s entrance and allowing you to step around him. A soft grin appears on your lips as you step inside, glancing around the room before back towards the older man.

“It’s going just fine, Swansea. Thanks for asking.” You give an appreciative nod. “What are you doing?” You stare at the ceiling, seeing the vent opened with a few thin black wires hanging out. Sparks flew out, causing you to shuffle back a step or two.

“Be careful, now.” Swansea called from behind you. He grabbed your shoulder and gently shoved you back to avoid getting burnt. “I’m just trying to attach the wires back to the vent. Damn things..” He grumbles, shaking his head before turning towards you.

“Why’d you come here? Ya need something?” He raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Uh.. well, no. I don’t need anything. I just wanted to hang out with you, I guess?” You shrugged, not sounding very confident.

He chuckled. “You hanging out with me?” He couldn’t believe it. You quickly nod, confirming that you indeed wanted to keep him company. “Alright. There’s nothing entertaining to do in here, though. Just fixing things.” He turned back towards the ceiling before stepping towards the ladder, placing a foot on it, about to climb.

You watch carefully, handing Swansea any tools he needed to help him. As you did so, you asked where Daisuke was.

“I sent him to take a break. Kid almost triggered the emergency foam. Couldn’t let that happen with all the wires..” You nod along, understanding why he wasn’t with you two. It almost sounded like Swansea was protecting Daisuke.

You smiled at the thought before handing the man a screwdriver. He must’ve been working fast because after just a little while, he tucked the last wire into its original socket. You stared in awe, not knowing he was that good at his job. You would never tell him that, though.

He climbed down from his ladder before chuckling at your expression. “I’m surprised at how little time that took! You’re really good at your job, huh?” You grinned, glancing in his direction.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been in this business for over twenty years, you know.” He sounded like a proud dad showing off to their kid. “Seriously? I could never have the patience to do that.” You replied with a shrug, a hint of jealousy in your voice.

You sighed before turning towards the door, the knob in your hand as you spoke. “It’s been fun talking to you, Swansea. Thanks for letting me hang out.” You shot him a smile before stepping out of the room, shutting the door behind you.

Suddenly, you felt a firm hand rest on your shoulder, making you instantly turn around, your body jumping at the feeling.

That hand that was placed beside your neck belonged to Jimmy. Your smile faded, your lips straightening. A soft expression sat on your face, matching the man’s energy. “Do you need something?” You muttered, not wanting to be near him alone.

He nodded, staying silent for a few moments before placing the same hand on your bicep. ‘What the fuck..’ You thought, glancing at his hand before looking back up at him. “Yeah, I do. Do you know where Anya is?” He smirked, taking his hand off of you before settling his hands on his hip.

You swallow your saliva, not wanting to deal with this guy. “No, sorry. I don’t.” You shake your head, lying to him. Right before you talked to Swansea, you were in her bedroom, just talking. “Maybe she’s in the medical room?” You suggested, shrugging your shoulders.

He hummed in agreement before pushing past you, not letting a ‘thank you’ slip through his throat. You turn back to him, watching him walk away from you. You grumbled to yourself, your hands fisting in anger. He could’ve at least said something.

————

0 HOURS BEFORE THE CRASH

You heard the captain yelling in the halls, causing you to peek around, confused why the Tulpar was rumbling. You began to shake in fear, stomach feeling uneasy. You were in the halls when it happened. You were alone. Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you ran towards the noise, determined to know what was happening.

As you turned a corner, you bumped into Daisuke. He looked afraid like death was approaching. He immediately held your hand before questioning you.

“What’s happening?” He yelled, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know! Where is everyone?” You gripped his bicep, your nose wrinkling as your eyebrows lift, becoming more afraid than before. You felt like you were about to start crying. He shrugged, His face softens as tears well up in your eyes, filling them up.

“We need to go. It’ll be okay, I promise.” He whispers, tightening his grip on your hand before practically dragging you down the hall as he ran. You stayed close by, not daring to lose him.

You felt your breathing get heavier, becoming worn out. “Where are we going..!?” Your head was pounding due to the sound of the alarms, the red colors taking over your vision.

“F-Far away from where we just were! Captain Curly’s going crazy over there.” Daisuke exclaimed. You didn’t question it and continued on your way, not wasting a single second to get as far away as possible.

It was a single flip of a penny. The Tulpar could either blow up on one end, or the other. You prayed that it wasn’t the end you were headed towards.

Suddenly, you heard a loud explosion from the other end of the space freighter. You and Daisuke shot each other a look before rushing back to where you came from. You let his hand go to be able to run faster.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you stumbled upon in the cockpit.

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author’s note

could anyone tell I was getting tired of free styling this thing?? (but ofc I still loved writing this chapter and I’m gonna love writing more!)

I was WAY too over excited to finally show you guys the next chapter, I just had to release it early. Can you blame me though??

next chapter is you finally getting into where the gameplay starts, yay!! bye for now<33

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 11

Dear lord… this took a million years to write and I’m sorry for that 😭 I’ve never written something of this nature before and I wanted to get it right. I hope you enjoy because this is a shift in the whole thing!

The Favor masterlist

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WC- 6.5k

Warnings- cuckolding, Danny (ew), bd/sm elements, dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, creampie, slight angst, fluff, obvious smut, soft dom!h, kinda asshole h (to Danny hehe)

Y/N wasn’t sure what she had thought this sort of scenario would look like, but she was putting her trust in Harry. In this case, it was her trusting him to set this up at a hotel instead of his place, saying that neutral ground would be better in case Danny had an unsavory reaction. 

It was a classy joint, that much was obvious. He’d painted it as a weekend staycation for the both of them, which she liked more than she cared to admit- but there were mixed reaction she had in the idea of Danny being there at all. It was like an intrusion in a way, having him look in to their private little world… but on the other hand, she wanted to show him how far gone she was for him. How Harry could provide for her things that she needed and he could never provide. 

“Y’alright, pet?” He stroked over her hair as he knelt down in front of her. His shirt had been discarded to the side not too long ago, setting up the bed for their activity. The dominant had ran through what would be happening tonight with her a number of times to make sure she felt safe and comfortable, but there was nothing like the anticipation of her boyfriend she was actively planning on dumping coming up to watch the man she was utterly infatuated with give her the type of sex that had made her dream come true. 

“Yeah. A little nervous.” The admission was quiet, her eyes reaching his own. It was instant comfort. Another reason why she knew it was the right thing to break up with Danny. As cruel as it may sound, she’d be doing him a favor. Never in her life had she had just a simple look calming her down. Perhaps it was the trust, maybe it was the familiar, but there was no doubt in her mind that Harry was going to take care of her. 

“That’s alright, and very normal.” He reassured. “But it’s not too late to cancel. It’s never too late to stop. The moment you color, we can stop and we can send him out. Okay?” The tenderness he treated her with had never failed to make her fall further down the cracks, right into the palm of his hand. 

“I know. I trust you.” Reaching out, her hands cupped his face and impulsively brought him forward. 

It was something that had started to become normal. The kissing like lovers, kissing for comfort and passion, and it far exceeded what a strictly Dominant and Submissive relationship would be, but they both knew it was much more than that. He was going to be hers Officially soon enough, and selfishly he was giving in. Indulging, smug that finally she had decided to drop the man- and better yet, prove to him that it was only the natural choice. 

Humming into the kiss, he stood up and guided her to follow, securing his hand over her throat and giving it a gentle squeeze as he pulled back. Wet lips and a soft pant, he thumbed over her lip and wiped away a bit of the slickness his tongue had left. “I trust you, too. And m’happy that you’re….” He paused for a second. “I’m happy that you are leaving a relationship that isn’t good for you.” 

It was a moment she could have ignored, simply nodding her head, but she could see that subconsciously he was searching for validation in his own way- so she gave it to him. “I’m leaving him because someone else is making me happier than I ever thought I could be. So I’m very happy, too.” 

The loaded statement had him staring at her for a few seconds before his mouth fell back on hers, a bruising kiss making her whimper into the air. He was happy with that, more than that, but he had no time to properly respond when there was that dreaded knock on the door. 

Fucking prick, always ruining everything. As evil as it was, he was going to take full pleasure in fucking Y/N in front of him and making him see how he had failed to provide even the simplest pleasures to her. He wasn’t going to mourn their friendship like he thought he would. Not when he got the better option in it. 

“Go lay on the bed, baby.” He gave one last kiss, a small squeeze to her throat before he loosened up. “I’m gonna let him in and remind him of the rules.” 

They had decided that she was going to keep her lingerie on. Harry wasn’t keen on him getting a full show, full access to what now belonged to him- and Y/N not so excited to have him see every part of her at once. He’d be able to see Harry’s cock in her, but her breasts would be hidden away. That was solely for H. 

She did as he asked, getting into the agreed position. Face down, ass up. Hands at her side, face turned away from the chair Danny would sit in. The silk eye mask slipped over her eyes, she did her best to be a good girl and laid on her position as she heard the murmuring. 

The pre established rules had been simple 

No touching 

No talking to Y/N 

Phone off, Harry would place it inside a drawer.  

Leave when he said to leave. 

This was something that she hadn’t expected to happen when the arrangement had first started, but then again- she hadn’t expected to fall in love with Harry either. 

Silly, foolish girl. As if she ever had a chance at resisting.

It was nearly impossible to not fall for him. Between his attentiveness, his thoughtful gestures, his sweet demeanor, his humor, his patience, his ability to take care of her and the way he fucked her?  It was inevitable. There was no way she could have ever resisted that. 

The water bottle he’d gotten her sat on the side table of the bed, filled up with cool water for when she needed it, for fucks sake. Danny had barely ever gotten her gifts, let alone just because he was thinking of her. Not that she needed to be showered in material things, but the fact that Harry had come up with the ideas on his own and thought of her enough to grab something just for her had been enough of an indication that it was something she liked and wanted far more of.

Her decision to break up with him wasn’t one she had come to lightly, but seeing how she was treated by Harry had proven she deserved better. Even if… Harry decided he wasn’t into her anymore down the line, he set the new precedent that she could and should be treated with more respect. She could have the things she wanted and it wasn’t necessarily odd of her to ask for them. The right person would be happy to fulfill those wants, and more.

Her body was cold, but her insides were hot. Hearing the shuffling, the door closing, being unable to see but having the knowledge that he was sitting on that chair about to watch Harry, the man he’d essentially pawned her off to on loan, give her the things he couldn’t dream of doing. There had been mixed feelings at first, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but considering he had asked and consented, Harry had calmed her about it. 

He was kind enough not to mention how wet it had made her when she had spread her legs after that conversation and he got a glimpse of the wet patch on her cotton panties. 

Her mind was going a million miles a minute, not stopping once as the thoughts continued racing around her brain- until she felt his hand on her. Smooth, large fingers running over her back, all the way up until he gently wrapped them up in her hair and pulled her face up, giving her cheeks a squeeze with the opposite hand. “You know your safe words, my sweet. At any time, for any reason, if you want to stop…. What are you gonna say?”

“Red, sir.” She peeped, leaning into his touch. It was her body’s natural inclination now. The moment Harry started talking in that specific tone, that tilt to his voice, her body knew exactly how to react. Melt, give in, please him. It’s all she wanted. 

“That’s my good girl.” Another squeeze to her cheeks had her lips pouting out before he gently laid her head back down on the sheet. “You just keep bein’ good for me and I’ll take care of everything. Just like normal, hm?” He ran his hand back down her body, using one finger over her asscheek. 

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, rubbing her face against the soft fabric. “Take good care of me always.” 

Harry grinned, moving back towards the end of the bed. “Good. Be as loud as you’d like tonight, my pet.” His eyes were soft when he looked down at her, body splayed out on the blankets but not completely bare. There were some things Danny was never going to get to see again- and god, did that make him happy. Moving towards the side, he undid his belt lazily. Letting it draw out not only to build anticipation, but to leave her guessing. 

Danny had never seen anything like this before and in all honesty, they’d agreed to keep it relatively vanilla for that reason… and another. He didn’t deserve to see the flogging, the paddle, the ropes, not at all.. Y/N wouldn’t feel fully safe with him in the room with Danny watching either, so she had eagerly agreed to keep it downplayed, insisting that their sex had been missionary and bland to begin with so even the shit they’d done without the bells and whistles would be enough to shock him. Even though that made him jealous, it only added motivation to prove that Harry could give it to her a hundred times better even without the toys and tools. He could make her cum harder than Danny could have ever dreamt of with just his fingers, just a few flicks of them, because they had a connection that no one had been expecting. 

Perhaps his inkling of a god complex was showing, but he was more than happy to show off just how much better he was. 

“Legs together.” He ordered, watching with a little smile as she immediately placed them together. “Don’t want to deal with you squirming too much today. Know you love to when it gets to feel too good, but I think keeping you restrained would be better.” Diligently, he wrapped the leather through her ankles and began to wrap them up. Firm, he tightened it so she had no chance of wriggling them out, he hummed at his handiwork. 

“Is that safe?” For the first time, Danny spoke. Harry’s head snapped towards him, a reproachful look shot his way. 

“Yes, it’s safe. Everything we do is safe. I’d never put her in danger… Not too much.” His hand ran over her thighs. “Now shut up. You want to watch? Fine. But we’re going to pretend you aren’t there.” His voice was gruff as he placed his attention back to Y/N. There was nothing else said as he used his binding as a grip, pulling her down so her feet nearly touched the ground, her upper body on the plushy bed. 

“Yeah.. This is a nice position, isn’t it?” He murmured, focusing solely on her now. “You look so gorgeous like this, pet.” His fingers gently slipped over her cunt, cupping it lightly as he got that gasp he was looking for. He bit back a groan as he felt how wet she was for him, how she had ruined the pretty lace. Giving it a squeeze, he clicked his tongue down at her. “Exactly what I expected. S’not a day that goes by that this cunt isn’t desperate for my cock, hm?” 

Y/N held back the urge to grind into his hand, her breathing picking up as he began to touch her. She felt hyperaware of everything going on around her- and a little fucking pissed that Danny had opened his mouth. 

How dare he ask as if he actually gave a fuck? He had essentially made her someone else's problem, not at all looked into the sort of shit BDSM could entail. Thankfully Harry was an absolute godsend, but what if he hadn’t been? Would he have just given her up to any other of his friends? Just because someone did kinky shit didn’t mean they were good enough or safe enough to give our girlfriend over to. It was infuriating. 

“Yes, sir. I always want it.” She answered without hesitation. It was the truth. Over her time with Harry, he’d fine tuned her into being addicted to him in every possible way- and now she was pretty sure he felt the same way about her. 

“That’s good. Considering how much you whine for it, I’m not shocked.” Thumbing over her clit, he felt increasingly smug. “You need to get that wet for me anyway. Poor little hole has a bit of trouble fitting me in, doesn’t it?” 

“Mhm. I love it.” She breathed, only to squeal a few seconds later as his hand came down on her ass. The burn sent tingles down her body, cunt throbbing against his hand as she opened up her mouth again. “Sir! I love it, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure y’are, pet. You usually are so good for me, jus’ a little overwhelmed. I know how my girl is.” He crooned, leaning himself forwards and pressing his cock against her ass. “Kept you worked up all day. I know it’s a lot for you, ‘specially when your pretty head gets a bit empty when you’re waiting for my cock…. But you have been so good for me.”

Harry found himself slipping into his own headspace. They’d both agreed to keep it relatively short with the other man in the room and he had been more than happy with that agreement, but he liked that he was getting a look at how she came undone for him. That he got to hear the little gasp she let out as he slipped a finger inside of her cunt, and then two, fucking them into her slippery hole.

“There it is. Barely touched you and you’re dripping like a whore.” His coo was contradictory to his harsh word, tone soft with a slight chuckle at the end because of course she was. Y/N got worked up so easily, the tiniest things making her wet for him and that was one of his favorite things about her. Her eagerness that could borderline desperation. The submissive could try if she wanted, to pretend that she wasn’t a whore for him- but it would be a lie. “Do you like being a slut for me, pet? Barely touched you and you’re dripping down my knuckles.” 

Y/N’s head spun at his word, nodding into the fabric under her face. Maybe she’d be embarrassed if she hadn’t come to terms with the fact that Harry had some sort of magic touch to him, but between the both of them it was no secret. She’d get on her knees or bend herself over the moment he even suggested it because she was greedy and they both knew it. “Uh-huh.” She nodded. “I love being your whore, sir.”

To his credit, his fingers knew exactly where to curl, where to stroke, how hard and fast to move. Harry had been becoming an expert in all things Y/N, but especially when it came to how her body reacted to him. The feeling of her bound ankles keeping her from squirming too much and the practiced ease of his fingers curled right into a spot he knew would make her weak already had her feeling pathetically close. “Sir- I’m gonna cum- can I-“ 

A sharp spank was given to her ass again, his free hand squeezing the stinging flesh as she bit back a moan. “We’ve been over this, pet.”

“S-Sorry, may I? I’m gonna if you keep-“

“Cum.” Harry didn’t make her finish her sentence as he continued his motions, watching his fingers sinking into her and her legs tremble just a bit. He had known exactly how to get her there, betting on it actually, as he felt the fluttering around his digits as she breathed heavier and did her best to writhe despite her constraints. It was one of the most beautiful things, he thinks, watching her lose herself to pleasure that he personally gave her. 

He just didn’t stop there. He could feel her pulsate around his fingers as he fucked them into her harder, placing one hand on her lower back as he continued thrusting them inside her weeping cunt. Overstimulation was a favorite of his, always, but he liked even more so making her cum when he knew it was getting her to relax. To get to that headspace easier. Part of him wished he could see her eyes, watch them get teary for him as she began to babble slightly, but he didn’t want anything taking her out of this moment. 

Out of the corner of his eye he was reminded that they had someone watching but he didn’t pay him any mind, focusing solely on the woman in front of him that took up the majority of his mind even when she wasn’t here. 

“H-ha…” She went to say his name but caught herself, letting out a muffled moan as she buried her face in the comforter of the bed again. The leather of the belt bit into her skin but in the best way, the burn of her legs trying to push apart to both trap his hand and push it away adding to the pleasure swirling in her tummy. It was borderline too much, his palm slapping against her and the constant stimulation to her spot, but she knew that Harry knew best.

“Hm? What was that you’re tryin’ to say, pet?” He hummed, gently letting his nails run over the expanse of the lingerie. It tickled, making her squirm a bit but she had no complaints except a hybrid of a giggled moan. “Are you feeling good?” 

 “S’good, it’s so good.” Her head nodded quickly. “I’m just- you’ll make me cum again, sir. A-and I haven’t even made you cum and I don’t wanna be greedy, I want to make you happy and-“ her words were cut off with his fingers back in her hair, pulling her up a bit so he could make her back arch. 

“I’m doing what I want. This makes me happy. Like seeing you dripping on my fingers, squirming around the bed because you can’t help it. I’ll cum when I feel like it. I want you to do it again on my hand and then we’ll worry about me, yeah?” 

The pinpricks of the grip on her hair had her mouth hanging open, and if the eye mask was uncovered he’d see her eyes rolled back into her head. It was a heavenly combination in her opinion. The only thing that would make it better would be to replace his fingers with his cock but she wasn’t about to make any demands. 

“Now cum for me again. Want that cunt nice and soft for me when I slip into it.”

Y/N knew that Harry had an ungodly level of control over her body just by command alone, but it took the both of them off guard by how quickly her orgasm came. Wet gasps into the air as his honorific left her lips, slick arousal dripping off his knuckles and over his palm as he worked her throat the second orgasm well enough before giving her another surprise.

The dominant didn’t give her a chance to recover as his cock was pushed into her, a garbled moan leaving her throat as she felt it fill her up. Her nails dug into her palms as she felt the grip on her hair tighten, pulling her further up as he dug in deep. It was in her stomach, her toes curling as she panted into the air. “Oh-“ 

Harry repeated it. “Shush.” He muttered, slipping his fingers into her gaping mouth. “Suck these clean. You want me to feel good? Take my cock and shut up, sweetheart.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” 

Danny. Y/N had forgotten about him until she heard his voice, her body tensing slightly- but Harry didn’t stop. Pushing his fingers back in her throat he made her gag, knowing that she’d need the distraction to keep sucking again. 

“If you can’t keep your mouth shut, you’ll get the fuck out.” Harry’s voice was unlike how it usually was, even being mean to her. It was cold. If it was ever directed at her like that she’d cry- but she couldn’t deny that a part of her liked him being mean to Danny. Especially because it was mostly on her behalf. “She likes this shit. Clearly, you’ve no fucking clue what gets her off… S’why you sent her to me, isn’t it? Couldn’t get her off in the way she wanted so you sent her to someone who could.” He scoffed, pulling his saliva soaked fingers from her mouth. “You like when I tell you you to shut up and take it, mm baby?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded without a second guess. “I l-love it so much. I love how you fuck me.” The second part wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to say it. As if it wasn’t visible and audible by how wet she was around his dick, how she moaned. Then again, Danny really didn’t have a clue about how to make Y/N feel good anyway. 

“See?” Harry grinned maliciously, finally glancing over to the man. His face was flushed and he looked slightly bothered, but he wasn’t making any effort to move. “I’ve taken the time t’learn what she likes, I’ve listened to what she wants- shown her the shit you’re too scared to even try. So if I want to tell her to shut up n’take it so she soaks my cock a bit more? M’gonna fucking do it.” His thrusts were deeper, making Y/N let out little noises as he got into her tummy. “If you want to keep watching, don’t talk. I won’t warn you again. I’ll simply kick you out and make her finish on my own.” 

Maybe she should feel bad about how aroused this was getting her. The show of dominance and how overwhelmingly clear it was that Harry was in charge, that he’d always been in charge and that he was so blatant about the fact that he was the one making her feel good. It would make her felt guilty later, she’s sure, that her cunt got more slick and she clenched around him as he essentially told him to shut the fuck up and let him get to business or get out, that their pleasure wasn’t indicative on if he was there or not. 

But right now, it had her melting, malleable, easy for him to do as he pleased. 

Subconsciously she could probably surmise that it was because a man was finally showing initiative. He was claiming her, in a way, with little care for anyone but her opinion. He had made sure she was okay with this but leaned into it with the somewhat unspoken knowledge that this was going to further prove that they were the better match. Harry showed that cared about her when he smacked her ass and pulled her hair and called her a filthy bitch when he came inside of her, because he knew that’s exactly what she wanted. 

“More.” Her voice broke through the weighted lack of words, only the sounds of sex. “More, sir- I want more.” 

“Okay, pet.” He grinned- she didn’t have to look at him to hear it in his voice. “Been going too soft on you, I know.” 

The dominant knew what she wanted. So he gave it to her. 

The last threads of caring about the man she called a boyfriend in name only fell away as Harry fucked her. Deep, heavy thrusts as he pulled her up and wrapped his arm around her chest, letting his mouth pant against her ear as his cock filled her over and over again. 

“You like it.” He murmured, just for her. “You like that he knows that he can’t give this t’you. My dirty girl.” He pressed a kiss right under her ear, chuckling as she immediately gave him room. The proof was in how she held him tight, dripping and weeping all over his cock as he manhandled her. She had no control in this, not in appearance anyway, and it’s what she wanted. 

“I want…” her voice was hoarse as she tried to turn her head so Danny couldn’t hear. “Wanna have you cum in me with him watching. It’s your pussy.” The words fell out as her guard lowered, interrupted at the end by his mouth. Part of her wished to be naked right now so she didn’t have the layer between them, but Danny had lost the privilege of seeing her fully nude. That was something she only wanted Harry to see. 

“That last part.” He grunted. “Say it louder.” 

“It’s yours.” Even with a slightly straightened voice, she tried her hardest. His other hand collared her throat, keeping it tightly wound with slight pressure. That promise had been something that set him off, and she liked that bit of power she felt with making him lose it slightly. 

“I can’t quite understand, Pet.” He spoke louder, giving the ability for it to be heard now. “What’s mine? Need you to elaborate on that for me.”

“My cunt.” She gasped, feeling his teeth graze her jaw. “My cunt- it’s yours. You- you fuck me so good and I want it all the t-time. I need it.” 

“Yeah, baby? You need me?” He’d let the softer pet name slip, as well as the fondness he’d been trying to keep from his tone- but if the man sitting in the chair had any sense at all, he’d be able to see that he’d lost the girl. That she was Harry’s, and it was his own fault. 

He’d sent her straight into Harry’s arms. Straight into his bed. He’d stupidly assumed that Y/N didn’t actually know what she wanted, that she’d be scared off- but now, she knew even more so. She begged for it, was greedy for it. She was hiccuping slightly as he slowly pushed her down, pushing her face into the blankets as he adjusted just so- making her let out a soft sob. He’s found the spot he had been avoiding, her legs quivering under them. 

“Yeah, I need it. I need it, I need it so much, I need you-“ she let out a shuddering breath. “Please, Sir. You’re gonna make me cum again and I need to- I need you to cum too. Wanna be good.” It was her favorite line. 

Little did she know, Y/N was always good. Harry had been a little spooked at first at just how good she actually was, how much he had wanted her.  He had been a goner since day one, as soon as he got permission to look at her as more than a friend’s lover and potentially one of his own- he should have known he’d never be able to give her back. 

“You are, pet. You are. Such a good fucking good with a perfect cunt. Dunno how anyone could ever let you out of their sight.” A slight dig at Danny, but he wanted him to watch and understand. “Where do you want me to cum, hm? Your precious cunt’s got me close.” He slipped the hair away from her mouth, adjusting the mask over her eyes. “Want it on your ass? On that cute little tummy?” 

He was taunting her, making her ask for it out loud. 

“No- no, sir. Please, y’know where I want it. Want it inside me.” She was whining, his sweet girl, pushing her ass up the best she could with the position she was in. “Please, please, please, just let me cum n’I can take all of yours, I’ll do a good job. I’ll clean you up, I-“

“Oh, darling. Love when you ramble like that, know there isn’t much going on in your head when you get drunk on cock like this- but I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so good.” The praise seemed to have her melting into the bed. “Go on, baby. Tell me who you belong to when you cum on my cock.”

Harry knew it would be a lot, but he didn’t realize how satisfying it would truly be to hear her whine out loudly, her body trembling under him as she soaked him. Slightly gushing on his cock, his brows furrowed as he watched the mess she made on him. Even he had underestimated how good this would be. “Yours- m’yours, it’s yours, H-sir, I can’t…” her tongue tied, her body writhing slightly under his as her pussy massaged her his cock. 

It wasn’t like he stood a chance. Coughing out a loud groan, he hovered over her, burying his face in her hair as he let his hips stutter and cum shoot into her. It felt like a lot- it probably was, considering how heavy his balls had felt- but he felt a piece of his settle. The scent of her shampoo he’d gotten her, her softness underneath him, the velvety walls of her cunt milking every drop from him, it was almost there. The claiming in front of him has felt like one of the final pieces, a nail in a coffin, lips pressed against her temple as he whispered praises to her. 

The only thing that caught his attention was the sound of ruffling that had his head turning. Danny stood looking a mixture of angry and…

Something else. Unsure what to do. Harry sighed, not wanting to leave the warm confines of her pussy. 

“Your phone is in the drawer in the entrance. You can leave.” He said simply, deciding that was enough. There wasn’t much else that could be said- could there? 

He couldn’t apologize. There was nothing he was sorry for. Being the better man and giving the girl the proper treatment wasn’t something he’d feel bad for. He’d asked to watch himself, and maybe it hadn’t been all the paddles and whips and chains but it had been kinky in terms of someone watching- so he got a hint of it. A real clue about how good Y/N felt with him. 

His whole body relaxed once he heard the drawer open and the door close, finally ridding them of the man neither of them really wanted much to do with in the first place. 

“He’s gone, baby.” Harry spoke softly to her, ever so lightly lifting the mask from her eyes. He could see her wince at the light, though not much of it, the cute little nose wrinkling making his cock twitch inside of her. Even the cute things she did made him feel borderline insane. “There she is.” He cooed, leaning further up to kiss under her eye and over her brow. 

“Hi.” She said quietly, blinking up at him a few times before letting her cheek melt into the bed. They were alone now, truly alone, and she could let her guard down. As much as Harry made her feel as safe as she could in that scene, it was exactly why she had wanted to feel in relatively vanilla. Add in the idea of anything experimental or really kinky and she wouldn’t have had good connotations. 

“How are you feeling?” It felt like a dumb question to ask but he couldn’t help but ask it. It was something he needed to know. 

“I’m okay, weirdly.” She admitted. “I thought I’d feel more emotional. I don’t, though.” There was peace underneath it all. Yes, she’d deliberate later about how she would actually have the conversation with him about breaking up with him- but she wanted to enjoy her weekend with Harry first. “I think… I’ve known it’s been over for a bit and it felt nice to…” it was hard to say it out loud but not because she regretted it, but more so because it was difficult to put into words. “I think that I felt nice knowing he was getting to see that you care about me and you give me something he never has. Part of me felt guilty at first but not so much anymore. I forgot he was here most of the time.” Harry was her focus. 

“Okay.” He nodded, seeing that maybe it was something that she needed to think about some more on her own. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind she was going to go through with it, but he knew it had to be difficult to break up with someone. She was over him and that was clear, but the anxieties that surrounded all of that would rise to the surface soon and he didn’t want to make it worse. “We can talk about it some more later.” The last thing he wanted was to pull out of her but he needed to undo her restraint and make sure she was cleaned up and comfortable. “But for now, why don’t you let me clean you up, hm? I’ll order something for us on the room service menu, you won’t have to think about a thing.”

—-

One of the best parts about being with Harry was letting go. It wasn’t just physically, though that was nice- but emotionally, mentally. She felt the restraints slipping, allowing him to make decisions she usually would make herself. It wasn’t that he thought her as incapable, no. Not at all. But he wanted to make it easier for her. It started with him picking out food for her in the room service menu, and then her sleep set. The next morning, he’d asked her if she wanted him to do the same and she had shyly agreed. 

He picked out her outfit from the bag they’d packed for their little staycation- a lilac dress with a little cardigan to go overtop, her comfy pink cotton panties (which had surprised her considering there were sexier options) and her slightly beat up black converse. It was interesting to see what he had chosen to put on her, but she felt extra giddy as he let his eyes roam over her, humming in approval when she finished getting ready. 

“Love this.” He pinched the cardigan. “I like you in those. You look soft. You are soft- but S’like a reminder.” And fuck if she didn’t fall to her knees right then and there. “Can you put your hair up for me, please? S’a little windy today and I know it bothers you when it gets in your face. Or do you need help with it?” 

Y/N realistically didn’t need any help. Thousands of times she had tossed her hair up, but when it came to the specific ask… she wanted to have him do it. It took a few tries, but he got it eventually, focused on making sure there was no fall out except a few pieces that framed her face. “Beautiful.” 

It had haunted her all day, really. Flirting at the back of her mind, but knowing it wasn’t exactly the time to ask it. Was this something they could do all the time? Was that something that he’d want?

It came naturally to him. That much was very glaringly obvious. Harry was easy to slip into the dominant role both in and out of the bedroom and she wondered if he was fully aware how he was doing it as they walked around. They were only 30 minutes outside their town, but it felt like another universe as he held her hand firmly, making sure he walked on the side of the street near traffic, opened doors, ordered for her during lunch again, picked out some clothes she had trouble deciding on when they went into the shops. It felt right. 

She didn’t want to go home. 

As much as she missed his house and his dog, she wanted to live in this little world. 

“You’re quiet today.” He noticed. Of course he did. Y/N doubted there was much the man missed. When you first met him you wouldn’t expect the sharp eye for detail but she caught on fairly quickly how attentive he was to even the slightest shift in her demeanor or her face- or even her texts. 

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, sitting back on the hotel bed. They’d decided to spend their last night here before returning to Harry’s tomorrow. “I just don’t want this weekend to end.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped in what  seemed to be relief as he took a seat next to her, gingerly pulling her legs on his lap. “I don’t either. But we’ve got next weekend. Or… well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Depending on when you have your discussion with Danny, I don’t think we’ll need to stick to just a weekend schedule. If that’s something you’d like, of course.”

Seeing him blush wasn’t super common, but it was fucking adorable. She wanted to coo but instead smiled, placing her hand over his as some of the nerves at the idea of him wanting to end all of this because her breakup with Danny would mean the deal was over slipping off her back. “Yeah? You don’t think you’d get sick of me?” 

The man scoffed. If only she knew just how clingy he had started to feel. How he had to talk himself out to texting her far more than he did, how he had tried his best to make sure he didn’t come on too strong when she was still figuring things out with her last relationship- but if she was willing to spend more time with him, he would take up every single crumb, every second, every tiny sliver her could. “I don’t think you really get how…” he sighed, readjusting the words. “I don’t think that you comprehend how much I’d love to have you around more often. I don’t think it’s possible for me to get sick of you.”

That brought a smile to her face. “I don’t know. I do sing a bit obnoxiously. And I keep forgetting to put the cap on the toothpaste…”

“As long as it’s a good song, I don’t mind. As for the toothpaste… we can work on it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know plenty of ways to get you to remember. Don’t worry about that.”

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[dxddykenn]

I apologize in advance if this isn’t well written. I’m fairly new to writing and wanted to get this idea out of my head after watching The Strangers lol. This most likely will be done in two parts. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions - Naiya🤍

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Michael B. Jordan as Erik “Stranger 1”

Aaron Pierre as Terry “Stranger 2”

Method Man as Damon “Stranger 3”

Home. A place that is your sanctuary. Somewhere you can escape from all the problems of the outside world. A place that provides you with a feeling of warmth and a sense of safety. What happens when it isn’t?

It was a late Friday night, the crisp Autumn air blew the fallen leaves along the ground. Freshly showered and skin moisturized you were on the couch catching up on your latest reality show obsession. As you were getting up to refill your wine glass, a loud thud sounded throughout the house. Your movements stilled, waiting to hear the noise again.

*Thump Thump Thump* the noise sounded again coming from the front door.

You glanced up at the clock hung in the living room ‘11:45pm’… strange, you aren’t aware of anyone planning to stop by. Walking to the door you peek through the curtain of the sidelite. You were met with complete darkness aside from the light shining faintly from the driveway.

Opening the door you’re startled by a man standing just below where the porch light normally would shine down. He was dressed in a jacket, dark pants and boots, but you were unable to see his face.

“Can I help you?” you ask him.

“Is…Y/n home”. A chill runs through your body. “I’m sorry?” you question.

“Is…Y/n home” he repeats.

You look at him curiously “Who are you?” you ask.

In return he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he walks off towards the end of your driveway. Puzzled you reach up for your porch light, noticing that the bulb was slightly unscrewed. Tightening the bulb, you close the door behind you, wondering who the man was and where he came from.

Currently, you were in Georgia where you owned a vacation home that sat on a few acres of land. You were 24 years old studying to become an Optometrist. Between the never ending hours of studying, classes and life in general, you decided that you needed a mental break. Planning to stay for a few weeks you packed up and headed to Georgia. Only a very few people knew that you were leaving, which you preferred, allowing you to disconnect from reality for a little while.

Walking back towards the kitchen, you stop to set your alarm system “Better safe than sorry” you whisper to yourself.

Hours go by and you feel yourself slowly nodding off. Another episode of Reasonable Doubt playing in the background as your eyes grow heavier and heavier. Eventually you fall asleep, unbeknownst to the masked man standing behind the couch.

Three knocks jolt you awake. The man silently walking away, disappearing in the house.

Looking up at the clock again, it’s now 2 am. Getting up you cautiously walk to the front door. Peeking through the curtain of the sidelite you’re met with darkness again.

“What the fuck?” you say to yourself.

Quickly you disarm the alarm and snatch open the front door. Instantly your heart dropped, it was like the events from earlier were replaying all over. There the man was again. Still unable to see his face. Standing in the same spot as before. And the porch light out.

“Sir can I help?” you ask.

This time you notice the roughness of his voice as he repeats the same question “Is…Y/n home?”.

“Why do you keep asking that?!“ you snap.

Once again he just turns away and walks off. Slamming the door you rush back to the couch in search of your phone. Once in hand, you’re suddenly surrounded in absolute darkness.

“You can’t be serious”

Fumbling with your phone you turn on the flashlight, as your heart started to race. Slowly you walk towards the power box. It was located in a closet down the hallway just off of the kitchen. The light from your phone casting shadows along the wall as you moved. Your hand was out in front of you to ensure you didn’t knock into anything. Normally getting to the closet would have taken a few seconds but turned into minutes in your state of panic. Your hand grazes the doorknob rattling lowly. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you grip the knob.

“Finally” you say as you open the door.

As you direct the light into the closet it hits something. Frowning, you steady your hold on the phone so you could see clearly. The light lands on a pair of boots. Moving up it falls on a pair of dark pants, next a jacket. As the light goes up further it lands on a straw face you jump in fear, when you finally realize it was a scarecrow.

“Y/n get a hold of yourself” you chuckle as you run a hand down your face. Clicking the switches, the lights in the house turn back on. Turning off the flashlight, you close the door turning to walk back down the hall when you smack into something. Stumbling back you grab onto the wall steadying yourself.

“What the-” you mutter.

Inch by inch you look up. The boots. The pants. The jacket. Looking all the way up, you lock eyes with the man from earlier. A burlap sack with two eye holes and a simple smile drawn onto it now covered his head.

A sharp, piercing scream leaves your mouth as you trip over your feet, knocking over a table in the hall. Frantically you run as fast as you could, trying to get to the front door. Snatching it open you’re met with another man. This one wearing a dusty black suit, a doll face mask covered his face and a knife in hand. You staggered back as tears well in your eyes.

“No…No!” you scream as you run towards the garage.

You only make it a few steps when you encounter another man. Towering over you he looked at you wearing a skull mask. A long sleeved flannel shirt and overalls covered his body, carrying an axe.

It felt as if the world just stopped. There were now three men in your house. There was no where to run, no where to hide. You didn’t know where to go or how to get away.

Backing up you go to run when you were grabbed from behind. Instantly you start to kick and scream when you feel a prick in your neck, your vision slowly fading to black.

Groaning, your head feels heavy and your body sore as you wake up. Blinking your eyes you're in a room illuminated by a red light. As you try to move you, you notice that you were suspended off the ground, bound by your arms and legs. That's when you notice three sets of shoes in front of you. Glancing up all three men were standing in front of you, masks still on their faces.

Your body starts to tremble in fear.

The air felt thick and that time was stuck as they just watched you. Breathing. Not saying a word. Just standing there.

All you could do was cry, not understanding why this was happening to you. “Why are you doing this!” you scream out, your voice shaking. The man standing in the middle of the other two slowly leaned towards you. Your eyes locking onto his, he mutters “Because you were home”.

As if on queue all three remove their masks, your breath catching in your throat. All three were breath taking. It didn’t make sense, what did they want?

“I’m Terry” the man wearing the burlap sack introduced himself. “This is Damon” he points to the man who was wearing the dusty suit. “And he’s Erik” he points to the man to the right wearing the flannel shirt.

Confusion was written all over your face as you just stared at them. Damon and Erik chuckle.

“Don’t worry we don’t want to hurt you Y/n” he strokes your cheek. You jerk your face away causing him to chuckle, gripping your throat bringing you back to face him.

“If I were you I would listen” Erik chimes in.

Terry rubs his finger along your bottom lip before speaking “We have a long night ahead of us. You’re going to listen and do what we say if you want to make it to the morning” he smirks before roughly letting you go.

What were you going to do?

[starogeorgina]

𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚

Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, child birth

1.03

You blink away unshed tears as you stare up at Ser Harwin; the look on his face was earth-shattering. No traces of anger or bitterness could be detected on his handsome face; the softness in his eyes made you feel nothing but guilt. You should never have believed the rumors, given into your husband's taunting or gone near Criston Cole.

You’re unaware that you’re crying until Harwin wipes them away with the pads of his thumb. “Prince Daemon told me your news; congratulations, princess.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead, and in a quiet voice, he says, “He also told me what he said to you. I wish I’d known sooner.”

Ser Harwin wasn’t a fool; he knew his beloved princess’s outburst of believing the rumors surrounding him and Princess Rhaenyra being true hadn’t come from thin air, but he had no idea Daemon was the one behind it. The Targaryen prince thrived in chaos, but after causing so much damage, the knight was grateful to be away from the keep for some time; otherwise, he might have done something to get himself executed.

“Do you forgive me?”

Harwin sighs, “There’s nothing to forgive. It was a misunderstanding.”

Pouting, you shake your head. “I should never have doubted you... henujagon īlva, valzȳrys.” (Leave us, husband.)

You wait until you hear Daemon leave; he didn’t need to be involved in your conversation, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist if he was within earshot. You take Harwin’s large hand in yours and say, “I love my husband; he’s the other half of me. Targaryens are made to burn together, but I love you too. I don’t know how to explain it; it’s a different kind of love. Since I was a girl, I always knew I’d marry Daemon, regardless of how I felt, but I chose to be with you. You make me feel safe and—”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me?” Harwin wipes away another fallen tear. “I’ve memorized each time you’ve confessed your love to me, which is how I know something is wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know whose baby this is. I forgot to drink moon tea after the last time we lay together.”

His blue eyes fill with tears. “Prince Daemon will be the father.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart aches a little when Harwin hugs you; he was a good man. A far better person than you, Daemon, or Criston. He wasn’t selfish, violent, or entitled. You only wish you’d never questioned his loyalty to begin with.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

—

As the months passed, your body changed, and the gorgeous gowns you had made could no longer hide how large your bump had gotten. Rhaenyra often thought you were carrying more than one baby when your bump first started to swell, but now you were convinced she was right.

Daemon smooths his hand gently over the fabric of your dress, feeling the baby kick beneath. You were comfortable laying on your left side with multiple pillows fluffed around you to keep you in that position. Your husband lay behind you with his face nuzzling into the side of your neck.

“Have you spoken much with Ser Harwin?”

“No,” you say, feeling your lip tremble slightly. “Perhaps it is for the best; the less he is near during my pregnancy, the less people will talk.”

Daemon kisses your cheek. “The baby could look exactly like us, and the Greens would still gossip. I suspect the same will happen with Rhaenyra as soon as she has an heir.”

Your sister and her husband, Ser Laenor, had gone to visit various houses in the realm on behalf of your father, who was too ill to travel the distance himself. Although they had gone on dragonback, a large number of knights, including Ser Harwin, had been sent to protect them. When you confessed your antics with Cole to Ser Harwin, he was mad for a while but insisted he still wanted to be with you; he just needed some time.

“And what if the baby doesn’t look like us?” You knew no matter what, you’d love and protect your child fiercely, but you needed reassurance from Daemon. “I’ve been beyond foolish; I’ve given them the opportunity to make my child’s life miserable before they are even born.”

“I will cut out the tongues of anyone who dares question the legitimacy of our child. Any baby you have will be an extension of you; it would be impossible for me not to love them.” He rubs his hand along your stomach again. “This is my son or daughter growing inside you. Nothing anyone says will change that.”

—

“Princess, it’s time to push again.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” You sob, clutching onto the bed sheets tightly. The pain was overwhelming; you were convinced this is what dying felt like.

“Push!”

The midwives help guide you through the last few pushes until your daughter finally enters the room. She is placed on your chest, and you sob with happiness, “She’s perfect—oh fuck.”

Your daughter is quickly carried away to be cleaned up as the midwife pushes your legs open again. “Time to do this second time, princess.”

—

Daemon hums while gently rocking your daughter Daella to sleep, while your son Gaemon suckles at your breast. They were only a few hours old, but it already felt like you'd spent a lifetime loving them.

“Perhaps when you are feeling up to it, we can pick dragon eggs for the baby’s.”

You smile and say, “That would be nice.”

With Syrax having laid another clutch of dragon eggs, you were on your way to the dragon pit to pick one while being accompanied by your husband and sworn protector, but before you could leave the courtyard, your waters broke. Ser Harwin immediately picked you up and carried you back to your chambers, while Daemon sent for the maester and midwives.

“There, there,” Daemon says before gently placing your daughter into the crib next to your bed.

You smile down at her. Daella shares your pale complexion; her silver hair and the shade of her purple eyes were an exact match for yours. Gaemon got almost all his features from you, like his sister; his skin was pale and his hair silver, except his eyes were a dark brown.

“I think he’s had his feed,” you say when Gaemon stops feeding and his eyelids slowly start to close.

Daemon takes him from your arms so you can readjust your nightgown. He kisses the baby on the forehead. “They really are perfect.”

—

Sitting underneath the weirwood tree, you smile as Daella attempts to walk along one of the thick roots sticking out of the ground, with your loyal knight Ser Harwin right behind her, ready to catch her the second she slips. Gaemon lays back, his head resting against your legs, as you read a story about dragons out loud. Both eggs had hatched in the cradle, and your children were now getting to the age where they understood how powerful and magical dragons are.

“Careful, princess,” Harwin says softly. “Slow down before you fall.”

Daella grins up at the knight before jumping onto a different root. It wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of her, and she attempted to climb the tree.

When screeching comes from the distance, Gaemon points to the sky and says, “Mama, look! It’s kepa!”

You look up and see the Blood Wyrm flying in the direction of the dragonpit. Daemon always made a point of returning from dragon riding before supper time so he could dine with his family. When you lower your gaze from the sky, you are met with the cold gaze of Ser Criston Cole. You often notice the knight observing your son and daughter from a distance, but he makes no attempt to interact with them.

Although Cole would never admit it, you had a feeling he would risk his life for them just as Daemon and Harwin would.

—

Harwin takes one of the pebbled nipples into his mouth while you lean over him, your hands pressing against his chest. Daemon kisses the back of your neck, occasionally nipping at your sensitive skin with his teeth as he thrusts into you from behind. Over time, the three of you had come to an agreement that when the time came and you wished to have another baby, you and Harwin couldn’t fuck as you normally would, eliminating any chances of him getting you pregnant since you wouldn’t be drinking moon tea. But you still wanted to be intimate with Harwin, and your ever-devoted husband came up with an idea.

Daemon’s voice is cocky as he says, “So, Ser Harwin, how do you feel about our princess taking what she wants from us at the same time?”

Harwin grins. “Do you think you could take both of us?”

“Yes, I want you both.”

“Greedy girl!” Daemon smacks your ass.

Your heart races with anticipation at the thought of having both of them inside you at the same time. You're used to making love to them both, but this would feel different—more intimate, more primal. Harwin and Daemon had mutual respect for one another, but they mainly bonded over how much they loved your little family.

Your husband chuckles softly, his warm breath caressing your ear. “You’ll get what you desire, my love. I’ve bet you’ve thought about this plenty of times before, haven’t you?”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you nod.

A princess desperate to feel her husband and lover fill her up at the same time.

Daemon slowly withdraws his shaft from your cunny, leaving you aching for more. He sits down on the bed beside Harwin, but before you have the chance to move over to his lap, the knight hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you up until you are hovering over his face. Not wasting time, Harwin starts flicking at your sensitive clit with his tongue.

Daemon smirks as he listens to your whine. He had already ‘prepared’ both your holes before Harwin joined you in the bedchamber. After coming apart on Harwin’s lips, Daemon gently pulls the small cock-shaped object from your anus, then pulls you onto his lap so you are facing him, and slides his cock into your cunny again.

He leans back and pulls you down with him, gripping your shoulders and spreading them while Harwin readjusts himself behind you. The thought of having them both causes your clit to throb, “Please.”

Harwin guides his thick cock to where you’re aching for him. With a gentle nudge, he pushes past your resistance and enters your tight hole. You gasp as he fills you completely. The sensation of having them both inside you is foreign and exhilarating. Harwin begins to rock his hips gently, slowly pulling them out before pushing them back in again, while Daemon thrusts upwards at a harsher pace.

“How does it feel? Daemon asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers. “Good as you imagined?”

“So, so good.”

Your mind becomes hazy with pleasure when one of them starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. You come apart, squeezing both of them tightly. Harwin shoots his seed inside you, then Daemon follows shortly after, coating your cunny in his seed, which he will hopefully take.

The knight slowly pulls out, then brushes your sweaty hair out of your face and kisses you deeply. Daemon smirks, “Take your time catching your breath, my good knight, as we will be here all night.”

[clarencethemouse]

Daydreams

requested from @hulkingharbor

note: I'm attaching this to the Bleeding Light lore because I love the character I made, and this scenario is eating me alive :))

this is a long one. Sorry not sorry

Summary: Kurt doubts his beauty and worth. Ready takes it upon themselves to prove how much he means to them. Angst and fluff (kinda spicy but also not). Gender-neutral reader.

The mansion roof was a lonely place, but good to relax one's mind. Good to let creativity flow without the judgment of coworkers and students. Good to drown out the never-ending plaguing thoughts with bird chirps and whistling wind.

But no better remedy to stress is a best friend.

You and Kurt stopped conversing on the roof a long time ago. All that was left was a stagnant, yet calm silence. You lay on the bare concrete, letting each spinal joint decompress and muscles settle. Kurt sat next to you, staring off into the horizon, which was turning into a marvelous spectacle of purples and oranges.

You turned on your side, facing him with your body and eyes. He didn't notice you, but this didn't phase you. All you needed was to see him.

"You're so beautiful."

The words barely escaped, the whisper sticking in your throat. Kurt's head whipped down to you. Those perfect golden eyes flashed with confusion. "Pardon?"

A soft smile graced your cheeks. Your eyes couldn't help but light. "I said you're beautiful."

Kurt's eyes fell from you. You watched his jaw clench and muscles agitate. Several moments passed before he spoke again, and the one-word response grated on your mind with his frustration.

"Why?"

"Why am I talking?" Your grin faltered.

"Why are you doing this?" His accent tainted his words thicker, his telltale sign of nerves. You pushed yourself up to level with his face. "Please stop lying."

"Love, I'm not lying-"

Kurt's nearest hand hit yours away as you tried to touch him. "I'm not in the mood. Stop."

"Kurt, I'm not lying!" You ducked around to peer under his insistently ducked head. "Why would I lie? Have I ever lied like that before?"

"Because... stop." He scooted away from your gaze. His tail flicked in agitation - he never used that with you. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Your lips settled in a horrified frown. "Why do you think I'm lying? Please talk to me."

Kurt did not talk to you. He disappeared without another word in a cloud of purple and black smoke.

You threw your hands up, head whipping around the perimeter of the roof. "What the fuck?" You shouted to the sky. No response. No Kurt. You shuffled together your papers and pens, throwing everything into a haphazard pile in your arms before booking it down the stairs.

Nothing tugged at your heart more than to find Kurt immediately, but you couldn't function with your supplies so loose in your arms. Shouting for him all the way, you threw open your bedroom door and let the papers and pens fall to the floor just inside. Only mere feet back down the hall, Rogue chased you down.

"Y/N! Are ya okay?" Her powerful hands landed on your shoulder, concern painted across her lovely face.

"Have you seen Kurt? He just ran away from me after we had an argument. I'm worried for him."

"Oh, nah, I'm sorry, sugah. Do ya want me to find 'im for ya?"

You huffed a strong sigh from your mouth, propping your hands on your hips. A dull lump was forming deep in your throat. "No. This is my problem."

Your next stop was his bedroom. It had to be. His only other safe place was the roof, which he would never hide on if he thought you could still be there.

Your breath quickened with every nearing step to his door. With the number of times you'd made this walk in happiness, in giddy readiness for a late-night movie or jam session to grade papers, the growing pit of fear in your stomach should not be so frightening. Never before could you fathom dreading his bedroom.

Your knuckles made a quick rhythm against the door, calling his name one more time. You hated to risk invading his privacy, but you were desperate just to see him; a fulfilling conversation aside.

Slowly the door creaked open, revealing his empty bedroom. After a quick sweep of the visible areas, you backed away to retreat before a soft sniffle hit your ears. Barely, just beyond the edge of the couch, a dark spade lay pathetically on the wooden floor. As quietly as possible you closed the door, tip-toeing to the side of the couch. The side of Kurt's body revealed itself by the side coffee table.

"Please go away."

"Not until you talk to me, Love." You crept closer. The air between you fizzled. He was contemplating leaving again. Your body lurched to the floor, landing one hand on his bicep. "Please! Don't leave me!"

Kurt tossed your hand to the side. His curls hid most of his face, which you could sacrifice a finger to see fully. Anything to see him. You sighed, crossing your legs before him. "Why do you think I'm lying?" You prompted again, your voice softer with a newfound patience. "I'm here for you. What will it take for you to talk to me?"

A hand freed itself from the safety of his lap to wipe the running nose beneath the tear-soaked cheeks. "Ich weiß nicht was ich tun soll." His shoulders heaved.

"Babe, I still don't understand," you muttered pathetically.

Kurt's tongue swiped over his bottom lip. Your mind flashed to inappropriate places. "I am not beautiful," he stated, his flawless curls shaking with his head.

Okay. The nub of the problem.

This scenario had run through your head a hundred times before, all in different ways. Different places. You or him being the first to initiate. But no amount of practice in your imagination could prepare you for the looming threat of destroying the best relationship in your life.

Anything for a chance to cheer him up. To see his gorgeous smile, his perfect eyes light up for only a few more minutes.

"Okay. I'm going to tell you this once and you just... need to believe me," you swallowed the bile - the fear that everything could go wrong. That you had ruined everything so perfect about your relationship with three simple words in a moment of adoration. "I do love you. You are my best friend. I cherish our friendship so much-"

"Stop..." Kurt tossed his head back. Given the context, you despised the way his Adam's apple bobbed and the way you wanted to study its perfection under a microscope.

"Just- let me get through this all. I cherish our friendship so much. You understand me better than anyone. I feel the safest around you. And I love the endless nights bonding over the silly nerd shit on the balcony with endless ice cream." This was it. No going back now. "But the amount of times I've gone to bed at night daydreaming about something as simple as going on a date with you... I mean, a proper date. And I imagine so many kisses, so many other things that friends don't do. Sometimes, I even get so desperate that I go through scenarios from that day, but I imagine I'm treating you the way I truly want to."

You couldn't look at him anymore. If so, you may see him staring back at you with such horror and disgust, that you would never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again. "And I do this just in the hope that the daydream will turn into a real dream, and I can sleep through those lovely imaginings and wake up... and... yeah. That is that."

Nothing from him. No words, no shift in position. All you could offer now was the closing line you rehearsed in your mind a hundred times since opening his door.

"I do think you're beautiful. You're the most beautiful person in this entire damn mansion. I'm not daydreaming about anyone else."

When the suspense was ready to rip your heart open, you finally peeked. Kurt was staring. Not with disgust, but with wonder. Hope.

"How do you think these things?" was all he could muster out.

"Pardon?"

His six fingers fidgeted with themselves. You wanted nothing more than to reach out, take them, and kiss each of them until all doubts were ridden from his pretty little head.

"I don't understand. The last person I gave my heart to was disgusted. Horrified by me. I don't understand how you... don't."

Impossible. The thought of him with someone else, no matter how long before you, dried your mouth and made you want to hurl right there. But even more so, the thought of anyone convincing him such horrible narratives could be true... it made your blood boil. Your skin crawl. Nothing was comprehensible to you of how anyone could think of him in such a way. Not Kurt; not the handsome, skilled, kind, and brave man in front of you.

He was too kind for the world. No matter what became of him, how the world treated him, he never faced it with hate. Never pure, genuine hate for the world. Only for himself.

Slowly, knees cracking and heart aching, you reached for him as you willed yourself to stand. Kurt watched you silently beg him for a moment before accepting the offer. You led him to the edge of his bed and simply sat. Held his hands harder when he allowed himself to settle and relax.

Apprehensively, you sucked in a deep breath and steeled your eyes with his. "Please hear me, Love. You are not horrifying, Kurt. You're not disgusting. You are not. I love you, whether or not you choose to believe it, I love you. Both as a friend and as... anything else. However you'll take me."

Your hands snaked up to his neck, cupping the lean muscles beneath your palms. Warm, soft, and true. "It's okay if you don't reciprocate. I just need you to know that someone sees you as beautiful. I would never lie to you."

As if time stopped and you were left fighting through molasses space, your lips touched his cheek. Lower to his chin. Lower to his neck.

"I think your skin is so lovely. It's my second favorite color; second only to yellow."

His throat rumbled under your lips. A firework of giddiness exploded within your stomach.

While your lips traveled onto his collarbone with delicate kisses, daring to taste the rich blue skin only twice, your hands traveled with a mind of their own to play with his three-fingered hands.

"People have three fingers all the time. I see this as no issue." You brought one of his hands to your face, planting more kisses on his palm and down each individual finger.

"I quite like your ears," you confess, dragging one finger along the edge to mess with the pointy tip. "You know folks dig the elves from Lord of the Rings. So how could this be any different?" You smile.

For the first time since you dared call him what he was, Kurt smiled back. He grinned enough to flash the brilliantly pointed canines, which evoked vivid images you would dare never tell your mother.

You were about to start the journey down his chest, something you'd been all too excited to see for months, when the other hand laid a delicate grip to your chin. Masterfully, Kurt steered your face to his, and within milliseconds your daydreams came true.

His lips were still salty from the onslaught of tears, but nothing could have tasted sweeter. Together your lips worked as one, moving and sucking as though life itself lay beyond. Your back hit the mattress, hands scattering to touch every inch of his lean torso.

And then his shirt was off.

While you admired him, finally unburdened and accepting of your words, his mischievous tail snaked to your torso. Butterflies fluttered deep into your abdomen when the strong tail wrapped partially around your waist and lifted you closer to Kurt's body. He smirked down at you, amused by your desperate squirm.

"Is this what you dream of, schatz?"

A sly giggle escaped you as one finger ran down his back, so near to the spine to send gentle shivers through his entire nervous system. "You have fur," you smiled, tilting your head curiously.

"Ja?"

"It's cute." You pulled his face down to you again. You allowed this kiss to be slower. To taste him more. When Kurt pulled back with a wider smile than ever before, there was room in his eyes for nothing more than joy and relief.

"Ich liebe dich."

You ran your lovesick fingers through that beautiful head of hair. You knew what that phrase meant.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Dancing Spies

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader 

Words: 900

Summary: You and Bucky are undercover at a ball and he’s not ready to let go of you.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to have hair + height implied to be shorter than Bucky. Idc how tall you are, you're 6 feet? OK well in this universe Bucky is 7ft, etc lol. No use of y/n.

A/N: IM BACK BABY! Ok not really lmao this was 90% written since April 2022 (holy shit over a year before I even started posting here.) As always, sorry it’s short, sorry if it sucks, but also I’m not that sorry if it sucks because it’s short so it’s not like I’m wasting hours of your time. Idk if anyone is even going to read this.

Also: special thanks to @questionableratatouille00 for being so patient and kind to me. ❤️

divider cred: @saradika

“I didn’t realize you could dance,” you mumbled into his ear as you stepped in time to the soft music.

“Well, there wasn’t that much to do in the 30’s,” Bucky adjusted his grasp on your waist to be more comfortable, “with, y’know, the Great Depression and everything.”

“Ah, yes, a time of great prosperity, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely.” He gave a short chuckle, and continued to gaze around at the other couples dancing around him. He wasn’t avoiding your gaze—he was simply doing his job. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. 

A sweet chorus of piano and violin flew through the air, enchanting the large group of people into following in time. Despite his watchful eyes lingering upon the room for the past ten minutes, he couldn’t tell you any details.

How many couples were there? What was everyone wearing? How big was the dance hall? He could only guess, as his mind was solely focused on his steps, and the person in front of him: how close you stood next to him, how he could smell the faintest scent of lavender from your hair, how your hand sat so tenderly upon his shoulder, and how he wished he could take his gloves off so he could get a better feel of your gentle hand intertwined with his right. 

“How much longer, do you think?” you whispered.

“M’ not sure. Until Steve gives the signal, which could be anywhere from now to twenty minutes.” He only allowed himself a quick glance of you as he twirled you outward and back in.

“I doubt it’ll be twenty minutes. I think ten is more reasonable.” 

“It could be twenty,” he argued.

“That would be way too long, there’s too much risk in that.”

“Twenty minutes is fine. There’s nothing wrong with twenty minutes.”

Sensing you were looking at him, he met your gaze. 

Your eyebrow was slightly arched, and you gave him a small look of confusion at his strange… passion. Nevertheless, you dropped it, deciding not to question him.

He felt a slight tug of guilt at his heart for acting weird, but truthfully, he simply hoped this moment wouldn’t end. It felt right. He didn’t want to accept that it could be over so soon.

Naturally, as if the entire room was choreographed, everyone slowed as the song ended, and another started. This song was even slower than the last, and couples pulled each other close accordingly. 

You and Bucky did the same. 

Bucky’s breath hitched at the closer proximity, and he prayed you couldn’t feel his rapid heartbeat now that you were practically chest to chest, and both your arms were wrapped around his shoulders as his rested on your waist.

“Hey Bucky,” you said so quietly, it was barely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I get that you’re trying to be alert, but you need to stop looking behind me. It’s not natural.” 

His cheeks flushed at your comment, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” He hesitantly looked down and met your welcoming eyes.

“Better,” you softly smiled.

He curtly nodded.

They continued to slowly sway along with the music. But the tune only served as white noise for him as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Luckily, you hadn’t caught him staring, since you had placed your cheek onto his chest, nuzzling into the warmth. 

He liked that you felt safe with him. Safe enough to rest your head on him. Safe enough to let him hold you with both hands, and not cower at what those hands had once done. 

His shoulders relaxed at the sound of a soft sigh from your lips.

“Comfortable?” He leaned his head down slightly to whisper into your ear.

“Mhm.” You confirmed.

“Tired?” He breathily laughed, seeing your eyes closed.

“Only a little,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut. 

He was content with where he was. It wasn’t the most familiar feeling for him, but he liked it. 

His thoughts were no longer focused on the mission(not that they ever really were—the second he found out that the two of you were meant to be a couple dancing on the main floor, he was distracted by you and the possibilities of what would happen,) and he remained focused on you. Your soft and slowing exhales, the affection you spawned in his chest, and how beautiful your hair looked. 

Seeing you at peace, put him at peace.

He could feel himself smiling as he watched you. His tongue flicked over his lips like it always does when he’s about to make a decision. He started to lean his head down to rest on top of your head when he paused.

Is this a good idea?

Screw it.

He rested his chin ever so carefully on your head, and couldn’t hold back his growing smile when you made no effort to move.

“I wish this was real life,” you sighed. “No more fighting. Just dancing.”

Motion from above caught his attention. Steve tipped his hat—the signal. 

Bucky just looked back. He continued to sway with you, shielding you from the outside world with his chest. 

Steve, slightly taken aback at his friend’s lack of action, tipped his hat twice more.

Bucky subtly shook his head and returned his gaze to you.

“Have we gotten the signal yet?” You murmured, eyes still closed.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Let’s just dance.”

If you liked it pls let me know so I know I'm not just screaming into the void.

photo credit

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 22: heirloom

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

The idea that in just a couple of days you were going to marry Spencer Reid felt unreal.

Your dream had always been to get married and start a small family with a good man: one who was gentle, hardworking, and, of course, kind.

Spencer adored you. There wasn’t a moment in the day when he wasn’t attentive to your needs, and even when work demanded a lot of his time, he made sure to stay in touch. He cared about you.

You doubted there were any words to describe the feelings you had for him. Love seemed like too short of a word compared to how you would practically give him your life if it made him happy. You were sure that the main reason you could sacrifice everything for him was that you knew your fiancé would never ask you to do such a thing.

You had gone to pick up your wedding dress from a fashion house that specialized in modernizing them, so you could wear what had once been your late mother’s dress. You thought it would be a nice way to honor her and let her know that you were now walking down the aisle, just as she had always hoped to see.

“Knock, knock,” you heard a voice at the door of the room that was serving as your dressing room.

Your future husband was wearing a dark brown tweed jacket, and his wavy hair fell gracefully around his face. Maybe it was the excitement of your upcoming wedding, but you found him more and more handsome, with that fair skin and those pink lips that made you want to cover him in kisses.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, I just tried on the dress a moment ago, and everything is perfect,” you said happily. He approached you, put his arms around your waist, and stole a kiss. “I look pretty.”

“You always look pretty,” he added. It seemed that this mutual adoration was shared because, at that moment, Spencer was looking at you as if he saw the sun, the moon, and the stars in your eyes.

“Do you want to see the dress?”

“No,” he quickly replied. “It’s bad luck.”

“Seriously?” you huffed, incredulous.

“They say it can ruin the ceremony or the marriage, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“For a man of science, you turned out to be quite superstitious.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he murmured, pouting a little, which you had no trouble kissing away. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“Something’s going to go wrong, that’s inevitable. Maybe I’ll trip on my way to the altar, your suit will catch fire, a guest will get aggressive, the priest won’t show up, we’ll get completely drunk, have sex, and I’ll get pregnant…”

“Everything sounds catastrophic except the last part,” he mused, making you laugh.

Your fiancé had been more affectionate lately, and you let him kiss your cheek. Slowly, he sniffed your face, moved to your hair, and finally nibbled gently on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

“Spence…”

“I brought you something,” he whispered, his voice velvety near you.

You missed his warmth when he pulled away, rummaging through his pocket. You waited patiently and then saw him offer you a small burgundy box.

“But I already have my engagement ring, handsome,” you laughed, showing him your left hand.

Spencer shook his head and said it was something else, so curious about the contents of the box, you did as he asked. Inside was a beautiful gold locket, with a light blue surface and a white engraving of a bird flying near some flowers.

“It belonged to my mother,” he explained. “It’s kind of a family heirloom. It was supposed to be passed down through the daughters, but Mom only had me. And the week I was in Las Vegas, I asked her if I could give it to you.”

“Is that a hummingbird?”

“Yes. They have many spiritual meanings, but in this case, symbolize that our love is light, joyful, and enduring, as hummingbirds can travel great distances despite their size. It could also be a symbol of hope for a bright future for us.”

As he explained, you felt strangely moved by it all. You had never received anything like this before, and you always thought this kind of tradition was reserved for aristocratic or wealthy families. But no, your future life partner was offering you this treasure because he wanted you to continue that tradition, implying that one day you would have a daughter to pass it on to.

“There’s nothing inside.”

“You can put whatever you want in it.”

“I’ll put a picture of my husband,” you said with a smile, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. “I love it. Thank you so much for giving it to me.”

“Mom was so happy. She loves you a lot.”

“And I love her. I’m grateful she’s letting me steal her son.”

“And she thinks the opposite. She’s happy to know I’ll be in good hands, with someone who loves and cares for me.”

You were drunk on love for him. You knew that, like everything in the world, relationships had their complications, but sometimes you liked to think Spencer was the perfect man for you.

Children always assumed their parents were soulmates, and you knew with certainty that yours wouldn’t be wrong.

Suddenly, one of your hands moved on its own to his hair, twirling a lock around your finger.

“How strange would it be if I put one of those golden curls I love so much in my locket?”

“In this situation, it’d be romantic, actually. But if you were a stranger, it’d be classified as stalking and could escalate to homicide.”

Laughter burst from your chest, and he smiled to himself, pleased he had made you laugh.

“I still find it hard to believe we’re getting married. It’s so strange.”

“In a bad way?”

“No, no. I mean, it feels… like a dream. I feel too happy for it to be real.”

“Well, I assure you it’s very real,” he assured you, holding you tenderly.

Even if Spencer didn’t tell you he loved you (which he did all the time), just looking into his eyes would be enough for you to know. Those honey-colored eyes, like a deer’s, that refused to look at anyone but you.

A phone call interrupted your moment, and you caught a glimpse of the contact name: David Rossi. Spencer greeted him kindly but somewhat confused, and as the conversation progressed, his frown deepened. You heard him tell the man several times that it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t want him to go to the trouble, and he shook his head more times than you could count. But apparently, his friend was insistent on the matter, whatever it was.

“Is everything okay?”

“Rossi wants us to go to a wine tasting now. He says he’ll cover the cost of all the drinks for the wedding reception.”

At that moment, you understood why Spencer had been so adamant in refusing, and you were quite surprised by the offer. David knew you, but you didn’t expect him to offer something on that scale.

“Isn’t that too much?”

“I tried to tell him, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. He insists it’s a special occasion since the baby of the unit is getting married.”

A soft exclamation escaped your lips, and Spencer chuckled, not entirely pleased that you agreed with the nickname.

“Everyone loves you so much. We love you so much.”

You stood on your tiptoes to give him one last (or so you hoped) kiss on the cheek and hurried to grab the bag with your dress. You were about to leave when you stopped in your tracks, telling him you had forgotten something.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to ask for your help fastening my locket.”

He smiled and happily obliged, taking special care with the task. From that day on, the piece of jewelry became practically a part of you. And, as tradition dictated, it was passed on to your daughter when someone was worthy of receiving it.

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."