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valeskafics · 5 months

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"No One But Me" - Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

a/n: combined a few requests into one - enjoy!! 💕

Summary: Daemon lusts after you, Viserys and Alicent's eldest daughter who is set to become a septa.

TW: DUBCON, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, canon-typical incest, corruption kink, innocence kink, religion kink, dacryphilia, thigh riding, fingering, oral f receiving, overstim, p in v sex, loss of virginity, breeding kink

Word Count: 2,515 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Daemon Targaryen never thought much of you, the eldest daughter of his brother and Alicent Hightower. You were a plain, mousy little thing the last time he saw you, at Rhaenyra’s wedding before he eloped with Lady Laena. You were sweet enough, curtsying and greeting him politely when you met him, thanking him for fighting so valiantly in the Stepstones. But that was the extent of your interaction.

After his second wife’s passing, he comes to Driftmark to lay her to rest. And that is when he sees you again. You are a woman now, he realizes as he watches you rest a hand on Helaena and Aemond’s shoulders, Aegon already off in his cups. There is something so sweet about you, your gentle disposition as you bend down to fix Aemond’s tunic, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. The boy, who has been dour the entire length of the funeral, comes alive with a bright smile at your attention, something Daemon finds quite interesting. You’re beautiful, the curves of your body evident despite the somewhat conservative dress you wear, no doubt hand-picked by your mother.

You approach him, a kind, sweet smile on your face as you offer your condolences, “I am so very sorry for your loss, kepus. I did not know Lady Laena well, but she will be dearly missed by many.” (Uncle)

Daemon simply nods and you step aside, taking Aemond and Helaena with you. He muses to himself that you seem more like their mother than Alicent does, too busy tending to his brother. It stirs something inside him as he watches you, those lilac eyes never once leaving your form. You have piqued the interest of the Rogue Prince, and he has every intention of claiming his sweet little niece as his prize. He stares after you as you retreat into the castle, your siblings trailing after you, like little ducklings in a line. And, as if you could be any more perfect, he watches you interact with his daughters. The kindness you show them, the affection you shower them with in the wake of their devastating loss.

The gears in Daemon’s head begin to turn and he realizes that you are the perfect woman for him. And that he is going to do anything to make you his. There is only one small problem. That is, when your mother announces your intention to become a septa at dinner. You beam with pride as your father, in a rare moment of care for you, leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. Aegon says something to you that causes you to slap him hard on the shoulder, that tiny spark you’ve shown lighting a flame inside Daemon. He saw the way your eyes danced with mischief. No, you cannot waste your days away as a septa, locked away from the world, your beauty never to be admired. He is most certainly going to have to do something about that tonight.

He finds you that evening, walking toward the humble Driftmark sept, no doubt going for your evening prayers. He heard your mother declaring to Rhaenyra with no little amount of pride that you have never missed a prayer. He steps out of the shadows, taking you by surprise, your hand flying to your chest as if to calm your heart. It’s adorable, really. You’re like a little rabbit, and he is a wolf going in for the kill.

“Uncle,” you greet in a soft voice, bowing your head in greeting before nervously fiddling with your fingers, “If you will excuse me, I am on my way to evening prayers.”

“Too busy to chat with kepa?” Daemon asks as he falls into step beside you, eyes roaming your frame, his thoughts growing more and more lustful with every passing moment, “I am sure that you aren’t too busy for a walk.”

“Perhaps another time, Uncle,” you say, gazing up at him with those doe eyes of yours, so innocent and unassuming, “I know you have never been religious, but my faith is something I hold quite dear.”

Daemon hums in acknowledgement, still walking beside you, glancing down at the subtle bounce of your breasts with each step you take, his mouth nearly watering at the thought of how you look under the fabric of it, the way your hair dances in the wind, “How old are you now, sweetling?”

“Nine and ten,” you inform him as you enter the sept, lighting a candle.

“Nine and ten,” Daemon repeats, “You are a woman grown. It is a shame that you’ve chosen to throw your life away and rot in a sept somewhere. You are very beautiful, you know.”

He watches with bated breath as you bite your lip nervously, “I… Um…”

“What does the faith even have to offer you?” Daemon continues, trailing after you as you kneel down before the altar of the Maiden, “A life of modesty and praying?” He leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “A life of never knowing the touch of a man?”

He sees the way you shiver, the way you gaze up at him with wide eyes as you ask him if he wishes to pray with you. He kneels beside you, gazing into those sweet, innocent eyes, so ripe for corruption, those soft, full lips, your hair framing your face. He wonders if anyone would even hear if he claimed you, here and now, in the eyes of the Seven. You bow your head and close your eyes, beginning to pray. Daemon bows his head for show, but simply continues staring at you, eyeing the swell of your breasts as your chest rises and falls with each breath. Your collarbones, your neck, your mouth. The urge to claim you grows with every breath you take. You’re so innocent, naive to the desires of men. He can teach you. He will teach you what it is to be pleasured by a man.

Your eyes flutter open after a moment and you give Daemon a polite smile, “Thank you for praying with me, Uncle.”

“You’re such a sweet little thing,” Daemon murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, thinking to himself how much he can teach you, “Might I ask you a question, little one?”

You nod slowly, “Of course.”

“How would you feel if a man kissed you?” Daemon’s nose brushes against yours, close enough to press his lips against yours if he so desires, “Would you hate it? Would you be disgusted? Or, perhaps, you would find yourself not hating it, rather enjoying it.” He watches as your eyes widen, “You know, it isn’t just your body that is beautiful, those lips are almost irresistible.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, turning your face away as you mumble, “I must go find my brother. Please excuse me, Uncle-”

He gently grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him, your chest flush against his as you gaze up at him, “No need to run away, little one. You know, your skin is so soft and smooth,” he says, caressing your cheek with his free hand, “Just like the rest of you, I imagine.”

You let out a soft gasp as Daemon presses his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. He feels you stiffen and then relax into his grip. His kiss is rough, aggressive, hungry even, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it, moving against your own. After a few more moments, you pull away, eyes darting around.

“I am a maiden, Uncle, I… I cannot do this…”

Daemon gathers you in his arms, his hand moving up and down your back in a motion you could almost consider soothing, “I don’t believe that, sweetling. I can see it in your eyes that you want this.” His gaze travels to your lips, slightly parted and swollen from the kiss.

“We can’t…”

He cages you in against the wall with his body, pressing up against you, “Oh, I believe we can, little princess.”

You whimper as Daemon’s lips along your neck, his hands moving to squeeze at your breasts, kneading the soft, supple flesh between his hands. He has fire in his eyes as he all but tears your dress from your frame, admiring how you look in just your smallclothes, the flimsy shift that does little to hide your curves from his lascivious gaze. You try to cover yourself, averting your gaze, and the innocence of your actions drives him nearly to the brink of madness.

He sits on one of the pews, pulling you onto his lap so that you straddle him, your weak protest coming, “Uncle, we could be seen-”

“Let them see,” he rasps.

His hands are all over you, squeezing your ass, moving up your body to your breasts again, his sweet little princess, there for him to fuck, to defile, to corrupt. You whine softly, grinding yourself against his hips, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he continues feeling your body.

“It feels strange in my stomach… Between my thighs…”

He chuckles, meeting your gaze, moving one hand to your hair, tugging it, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought, little one. I think you’re just a little tease. Look at you, rubbing yourself against my thigh like a wanton little whore. Come now, little one, make yourself peak. I know you can.”

His hands are all over you, calloused and warm, touching you places only a husband is meant to touch. You feel your pleasure building like a tidal wave as you continue moving your hips against him, rubbing your bare cunt against his thigh, feeling his muscles flex under you, how he bounces his leg ever so slightly to spur you on. His hands move to your hips, moving you faster and faster, listening to the sound of your breathing, coming out in soft, desperate pants as you reach your peak, eyes rolling back, body collapsing against his.

“What if someone walks in?”

Your voice is a hushed whisper as Daemon places you on the altar to the Maiden, tearing your shift in half, his eyes now nearly black with lust as he takes in the sight of your bare body. He pushes your knees apart, letting out a quiet laugh, admiring the sight of your bare cunny, already wet for him.

“That’s part of the excitement, little one. I’m sure any man would die to be with you, but you’re all mine, little princess. You were a maiden when you walked in here, but let’s see what you will be when you walk out.”

“This is blasphemous,” you say as he sinks to his knees, gazing up at you.

Daemon presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before burying his tongue inside your cunt, reveling in the whine of pleasure you let out, your hands gripping the altar so hard that your knuckles begin to go white. He laps at your folds, fucking you with his tongue, hiking your thighs over his shoulder as he tastes you, the lewd slurping and sucking noises he makes echoing throughout the sept. You whimper pathetically as he brings you closer and closer to your peak, his thumb rubbing against your pearl, your toes curling as you feel the pressure build in your stomach. He senses your climax is close and moves faster, his face moving from side to side as he devours you, his nose pressed against your nub, your arousal coating his tongue when you reach your peak once more with a cry of his name.

He moves to stand, cupping your mound, biting back a laugh at the way you try to shrink away from him, “It’s too much, Uncle…”

Daemon ignores your words, leaning in to kiss you, his free hand pinning your own above your head. He pushes one finger inside you, feeling the way you squeeze around his fingers, pumping it in and out ever so slowly, your entire body trembling as he continues his onslaught of pleasure. You gaze up at him, eyes watering from the overstimulation as he continues, his arousal only growing when fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Gods, you look beautiful when you cry. He adds a second finger, listening to you moan, your head falling back against the altar as you reach your peak yet again. But he has no intention of having mercy on you, wanting you to be nothing but a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him as he adds a third finger, his thumb circling your swollen pearl. His fingertips brush against that rough patch deep inside you that has your eyes going wide, lips parted in a silent scream as you manage to murmur his name. He moves his fingers, curving them so he can hit that spot with each movement, bringing you to your peak once more, feeling you soak his fingers.

Your entire body shakes and Daemon pushes his fingers between your lips, arching his brow in a silent demand for you to lick his fingers clean. He watches as your plump lips wrap around the digits, thinking to himself how lovely they’ll look wrapped around his cock, your eyes watering as you choke on it while he fucks your mouth, but he’ll save that for another time. He needs to be inside you right now. He needs to breed you, to make you completely and utterly his. For everyone to see your stomach, swollen with his babe, knowing that he fucked his seed into you.

Daemon quickly undoes his breeches just enough to free his cock, already achingly hard, giving himself a quick stroke before slapping the head of it against your cunt. You let out a surprised cry, your breasts bouncing as you jump slightly. He pushes inside of you, his thick length feeling as if it’s splitting you open in the most delicious way. He sheathes himself to the hilt inside of you, bottoming out inside you with a low moan. Daemon moves like some sort of feral beast, feeling your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him so tight, so wet for him. He ruts against you, pounding into you at an animalistic pace as you gaze up at him wide-eyed. It doesn’t take much for your poor, oversensitized body to reach your peak again, but he fucks you through it, chuckling as you pray to the Maiden for forgiveness.

“Little princess, we both know it’s me who you worship now. My cock.”

You don’t bother denying it, only wrapping your legs around him, allowing him to fuck into you harder, deeper, his hips stuttering as he reaches his peak, making sure to spill his seed inside you, plugging you up with his fingers so not a drop spills.

“After you have recovered, we will go to Dragonstone, where I will make you my wife, little princess. You belong to me now, not your mother, not the gods, no one but me.”

#daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #my writing #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #targcest #daemon oneshot #targaryen!reader #religion k*nk

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aphelea · 1 year

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nothing worse than realizing 3 months after the fact that i forgot a comma in that one line of that one fic. i know nobody will ever notice it but me. however i will be sitting here in agony forever

#it's already been reblogged so it's unsalvageable #<- that took way too long to figure out how to spell #anyway it's more like. a drabble? idk how many words it is but if you see the error. uh. sorry :)#i say this knowing all of my ao3 fics have massive formatting issues (the line breaks are so big??) but i'm too lazy to fix that #august rambles

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tim-shii · 1 month

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why do we have hands?

alt title: why do we have hands? (aventurine's version)

a/n: that one meme thingy idk how to describe it but hopefully u get the reference 🤞 uh there is like a good 40 days plus(?) until MY MAN COMES HOME live laugh love aventurine ,, also might possibly make dr ratio's version of this idk hes growing on me okay ,, who r we kidding I AM DOWN BAD FOR HIM AS WELL

why do we have hands? there are many reasons.

to pat the aventurine.

when aventurine is not at work or he doesn’t feel like gambling for the day, his usual frivolous and fairly confident persona slips away. instead, he turns into this lazy cat-like person with the way he curls up beside you on the couch, head on your lap and face buried in your stomach. he doesn’t say much (how can he? he’s literally in dreamland right now). however, he asks you of one thing; please do not stop running your fingers through his hair. it doesn’t matter if he’s already snoring away, never take your hands off his head. you need to use your phone with two hands? well, too bad ‘cause now you have to type with one hand for the next three hours.

to hold the aventurine.

aventurine has to travel a lot for his work. typically, his business trips would lasts between four days or two weeks. but this one is just taking too much of his time. it has been four months, two weeks, six days and seventeen hours since he last saw you. the phone calls and texts doesn’t do your presence any justice. aventurine’s pretty sure he’s slowly going insane and another minute without you will might as well be his 13th reason. so what does he do the moment he kicks down the door of your shared home? drags you to bed and drops all of his weight on you. he sighs and relaxes, the tension leaving his body when he feels you wrap your arms around him.

to cherish the aventurine.

with no work on his itinerary, aventurine wakes up early and gets out of bed before you. he then sneaks away to the kitchen after fixing the blanket around you and leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead. an hour later, as he’s waiting for the coffee, he feels your cheek against his shoulder, soft voice of yours mumbling a morning greeting. a nice breakfast is already set up on the table. as he’s pouring the coffee to your respective mugs, aventurine hums in content as you went to peck his cheek in gratitude (“thanks for breakfast.”)

to forfeit all mortal possessions to aventurine.

it’s either he’s really skilled in gambling or he’s just got an insane amount of luck but aventurine tends to win most poker games he participates in. that being said, his bank account is loaded. he doesn’t have to worry about spending too much, he can practically buy you anything you’d want without looking at the price tags. but when it comes to you buying him something, aventurine becomes speechless. he just stares and stands, not knowing what to do or say, as you hand him a trinket you bought after it reminded you of him. this happens every time you come home from an errand. it has reached the point where he has to tell you that yes, he likes and appreciates all the gifts you give, but please stop spending your money because he’s the one who should be spoiling you and not the other way around.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#tim writes.#hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail fluff #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr x you #aventurine fluff

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catcze · 6 months

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⠀「 Wearing his clothes 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Kazuha, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Kaveh (separate) x gn! reader

!! Hello !! Haven't even had a shot of tequila for the night yet but I'm already writing, look at me go !!

[ #KAZUHA ]

This guy has the absolute comfiest sweaters and hoodies!!

They're the ones that are warm and soft from use, and that you know he's cared for over the years. They're also so good because they smell like him, too! Smells like sunshine and a light breeze, if that makes sense?

Kazuha's hoodies and sweaters are practically free range for you— at this point, half of the cozy clothes in your closet have been pilfered from him!

And he always encourages you to steal from him, too!

It's a cold day out today? Here, have his hoodie. No, don't worry about returning it. Just keep it over at yours and he'll pick it up sometime. (spoiler: he does not, in fact, pick it up)

Oh, he left his sweater behind at your place while you were hanging out? It's okay, just keep it for now.

But really, he does enjoy seeing you in his clothes! Like, for one, it's you wearing his cozy clothes, so he's insanely attracted to you when he sees that. And for another, it makes him happy seeing you all cozy and bundled up, you know?

[ #WRIOTHESLEY ]

For Wrio, his leather jackets and black button ups are the premiere option to snatch from him.

His jackets are insanely comfy! His leather jackets always keep you warm, and the way it drapes over you and smells like his cologne makes it kinda feel like he's giving you a hug :(

And as for his button ups, he buys the high quality ones, you know? None of those itchy ones that chafe or anything. His button ups are so good to wear, whether you button them up and use them as an actual shirt, or just wear them as an outer layer over another shirt.

Funny thing is though, though Wriothesley doesn't really care about which of his button ups you snatch, he's very particular when it comes to his jackets.

Like, he'll let you borrow them of course, and if you're on a date and you get cold, he'll drape it on your shoulders and let you wear it while he walks you home. He even lets you steal a few right out of his closet and scurry them over to your home, pretending that he doesn't see that your bag is noticeably bigger than when you came over.

But sometimes, you'll get a call from him late at night— "Babe, is my jacket with you?" "Which one?" He then names one of the many, many jackets you've stolen. "Oh. Yeah iIthink I have that with me." "Can I come over and get it? I want to use it when I go for a drive tonight." "At this hour?"

[ #NEUVILLETTE ]

Oh, Neuvillette's coats are to die for!

They're the good ones, the designer ones. My guy doesn't shop in the discount aisle— no, he's bougie.

His coats are incredibly cozy and stylish without being too bulky or heavy. They're big, though! Neuvillette is a big, tall guy, and his coats are the same.

It's almost like drowning in an ocean of (expensive) fabric when you steal borrow his coats. But you do it so often because they're so so so warm and cozy!

You always snatch some of his coats if you can— and Neuvi never voices any complaints. He just smiles, and sometimes even makes playful jokes about you going shopping in his closet.

It's to the point that whenever the weather's cold and he comes to pick you up, he brings a spare coat just for you.

He does the thing where he puts it on you, straightens it out, fixes your collar, makes sure you look presentable and nods to himself when he deems that you are— then ends it all with a kiss placed on your nose.

"That's your rental fee for all my clothes you've scurried away," apparently.

[ #KAVEH ]

HIS SWEATERS !!! They are sooo comfy !!

Kaveh buys his sweaters oversized and the kind that gives him sweater paws— those are the ones that you always go for when given free reign of his closet.

Can you help it?! They're oversized sweaters with sweater paws! And they smell like your boyfriend! And they're incredibly comfortable !

It's especially cute when you both go out in his sweaters— both of you look so cozy and warm, wrapped up in your big sweaters, holding sweater paws.

He probably spritzes his clothes with whatever perfume or cologne catches his fancy that week, so that you smell similar to him when you go out.

And! If one of the sweaters has one of those kangaroo pouch things, you guys hold hands inside the kangaroo pouch, so your hands stay nice and warm <3

He's such a cutie about it too. Kaveh always grins sooo wide when he sees you wearing his sweaters. Makes sure to hug you lots too, because you look insanely huggable like that.

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvilette x reader #kaveh x reader #cw gn reader

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dollfacefantasy · 16 days

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Better Than One

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader x ada wong

summary: leon and ada take care of their needy puppy as your heat approaches

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (fem receiving), vibrator use, masturbation, daddy kink, mommy kink, threesome

word count: 2.4k

a/n: yippeee trying something a little different for me! hope you guys like. as always, i appreciate all the comments and reblogs <3

Any other time, the front door swinging open would’ve set you off into a happy prance to greet whoever it was coming home. Your ears would be perked up, tail swishing back and forth so fast it becomes a blur. You’d wrap either Leon or Ada in a tight embrace, nuzzling them and inhaling a deep breath of their scent you’d been missing for however long they’d been gone.

That would happen any other time, but not right now. Not when you're spread out in Leon’s lap with his hand holding a vibrator to your clit.

When the front door opens right now, you barely register it. Your droopy eyes don’t catch the motion, and your own whines and whimpers combined with the buzz of the toy make it hard for you to hear the familiar creak. You only become aware it’s happened when you see Ada standing a couple feet from the couch, staring down at you with a knowing look on her face. You want to say something, to acknowledge her at the very least, but all words get tangled up in the back of your mouth. They melt down into more needy moans.

“Starting the fun without me?” she asks. Despite looking at you, you know she’s speaking to Leon.

“It wasn’t really a choice. You should’ve seen her. She was practically humping my leg before I let her have this,” he says.

“I bet. It’s because you spoil her. She knows you’ll give in,” she says as she approaches the couch.

Leaning over you, she catches his lips in a quick kiss. She then turns her focus for you and guides your face to look up at her.

“You’re so cute though. I can’t say I blame him,” she says and gives you a kiss too.

You eagerly reciprocate the affection. Your eyes remain fixed on her after she pulls away and sits at the other end of the couch. Her gaze meets yours, sending a wave of pleasure straight to your center. Your eyes flutter shut again as your hips begin bucking harder against the toy and your head tilts back against Leon’s chest.

He chuckles and gives you a kiss of his own. “That’s a good girl, baby. Show mommy how bad you needed your toy,” he coos.

His free hand moves up on your body to fondle one of your tits. You arch into his palm while you can feel her eyes sweeping over your form from her seat opposite you.

“Has she cum already?” Ada asks.

“Oh yeah,” Leon answers as if it’s obvious, “How many times, pup?”

“Twice, daddy,” you whimper, your nails digging into the flesh of his forearm that was wrapped around you.

He rewards your correct answer by swiveling the toy over your clit in a mini figure eight. You cry out, and your legs begin trembling. Your ears pin to your head as more mewls erupt from you. He smiles down at you and continues to drag the toy over your pussy, teasingly prodding it at your entrance before taking it back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Across from you, she has slipped off her boots and brought one of her feet onto the couch cushion. Her legs spread, revealing the black panties she wore under her dress. You lock onto the sight, mouth already watering in anticipation. Two of her fingers slide down between her thighs and stroke over the fabric. She relaxes against the arm rest supporting her back and presses down a bit harder as she continues to watch Leon play with you.

“Daddy…” you whimper for the man behind you. Everything going on was piling up right now.

“What is it, puppy? You gonna cum for daddy again? Gonna gush all over my pants again. You’re already dripping so much, sweetheart,” he says softly while he continues to work the vibrator on you.

“I know,” you whine, “Can’t help it, daddy. Need it.”

“You need it?” Ada teases. Her voice has a breathy quality now as she plays with her own pussy over the black lace between her legs. “You really are getting to be spoiled.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, lip jutting out into a pout.

“Go easy on her. I think her heat is coming. She hasn’t even been complaining about it being too much,” Leon tells her with a smirk.

“Is that right?” she continues, “Maybe you really do need it then. You’re gonna need it next week for sure. Daddy’s gonna have to take extra special care of you, won’t he?”

You nod wildly, your hips moving back and forth on his lap like they have a mind of their own. You can feel the bulge that’s formed in his pants. Your ass pushes up against it with every rock.

“Maybe mommy will help you out too. I’ll pull out that extra special toy you only get when you’ve been really good,” she teases.

You again nod almost as fast as your tail can wag. Both of them caring for you at once, pressed up against you, filling you to the brim sounded like heaven. The image alone is enough to carry you to the edge and rip a shriek from your throat.

“Good girl,” he croons, “You cum again, princess. Cum for daddy and show mommy what she missed earlier.”

With his permission, you let loose. You gasp for air through ragged inhales. Your back arches and jerks with the weight of the euphoria crashing over you. The pleasure only intensifies when you hear a soft moan come from Ada as she watches you let go. Your eyes screw shut, and you rely completely on Leon to keep you from toppling off his lap to the floor.

Once you’ve been through the high and are on the way down, he clicks off the vibrator. He plants a wet kiss on your cheek and scratches the base of your ears gently. You curl into the love and squish your cheek against his muscular chest.

He smiles down at how sweet you are. His hand rubs up and down your back. “You love daddy’s lap. I think it might be your favorite place,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time the motion coming out slurred and lazy.

“That’s right. That’s cause it’s where good girls like you belong. Daddy always wants his precious little puppy close,” he says, “But I think mommy could use some attention too, yeah?”

You perk up at that, remembering that the other person in the room did in fact need your affection. Climbing off his lap and making your way to the other end of the sofa, you smile at Ada on the way there.

“There’s my girl,” she coos.

Her hand leaves her cunt as her arms open to welcome you. You collide with her and cuddle up to her. Nuzzling her breasts, you loop your arms around her waist.

“I missed you today,” you mumble.

“That’s good because I missed you too. You look like you had fun playing with daddy though,” she says and kisses your nose.

“Mhm, but I still missed you,” you say.

She smiles down at your loving nature and strokes along your jawline. “I think I know a fix for that problem,” she says.

You beam up at her in affirmation, having the same solution in mind. The solution you’d had in mind since she first flashed the seductive garment covering her pussy. You’re beginning to slide South when Leon grabs your ankles and tugs you towards him, speeding up your trip.

“Daddy!” you whine and throw a look over your shoulder.

He chuckles at your small cry of protest. He had undressed himself during the moment between you and Ada. His muscular abdomen was on full display for the both of you with his hard cock hanging between his legs. He steps closer to you, placing his hands on your hips and giving them a firm squeeze.

“Shhh, I think daddy deserves a treat too for playing with you, yeah?” he asks.

“I guess,” you huff. Of course, you would never actually turn down a chance to have Leon’s cock inside you, but you also liked playing annoyed sometimes.

You nuzzle into the junction of Ada’s thighs. Your nose swipes over her center, taking in the heady scent that had heat flowing through you. You kiss and lick at the fabric before pushing it aside. One of your arms secures itself around her leg while the other keeps the black cloth from getting in your way. You dive right into your task, lapping at her slick like it’d been years since you tasted it last.

“Such an eager baby. We never really trained patience into you, did we?” she sighs as her head falls back.

You don’t respond, too enthralled with her folds to register her words. You whimper against her skin. The taste alone is enough to have you squirming, but combine that with her hand smoothing over your head and her soft moans of “that’s it, puppy” and “so good for your mommy” and your own thighs were shifting against one another in search of even more relief than you’d been provided today.

Lucky for you, that wouldn’t be an issue for long. Leon shifts you up, pushing your face deeper into Ada’s cunt in the process. He elevates your hips to where he can access your own pussy. You’re already in the middle of the act, so he doesn’t see the need to tease you. Plus he was already so worked up from the multiple releases he’d watched you go through on his lap.

He slides right in with no resistance thanks to how soaked you were. He groans and sinks all the way in. You let out a satisfied moan but remain focused on Ada. You suck on her clit and flick your tongue on the bud before going back down and licking at her hole with sloppy strokes of your tongue.

He lightly smacks your ass from behind, drawing one more whine from you as he then begins to thrust. Your chin is coated in Ada’s arousal by this point, but that only spurs you on in your fervor.

Her noises gain volume, joining in the chorus of moans coming from you and him. Your noises are slightly muffled since you're buried in her cunt, but his skin slapping against yours with each movement makes up for that lost volume.

“Messy little puppy,” Ada whimpers as she watches you devour her, “Can’t get enough, can you?”

You shake your head as your head bobs up and down, pleasuring each inch of her. He picks up speed behind you, starting to slam into you at a faster pace. You bounce back and reciprocate the thrusts.

“Fuck, look at her go, babe,” he grunts to Ada, “So desperate for daddy’s cock.”

“That’s right,” she breathes, looking up into his eyes, “None of her toys could replace the real thing. She’s always gonna need that the most.”

“Is that true, pup?” he asks you with another slap to your ass. His eyes stay engaged with Ada’s for a moment longer, both sets glossy with lust and consumed with the pleasure you provided.

“Yeah, daddy. Nothing else feels the same,” you pant before pushing your face back against her pussy. Your nose bumps against her clit from the rocking motion of the man behind you.

“Sweetest little puppy in the whole world,” he groans and tilts his head back. He almost loses it when he sees how fast your tail is wagging as he drills into you. “Taking it perfectly, baby. You earned every inch.”

You moan at the praise and lap at her with increased dedication. Your whimpers get stronger and they can both hear it. Ada’s beginning to shake violently as you had when you were on Leon’s lap at the mercy of the vibrator. Her thighs fight the urge to clamp around your head before finally giving in when she reaches the edge.

“Fuck baby that’s it. Make mommy cum,” she moans.

You lick stripes against her pussy with precision, doing it just the way you’d learned she liked. From her noises, you know she’s reaching the boiling point.

“Make mommy cum, and daddy’ll give you a treat, pup. Your favorite treat,” he says.

Your tail starts wagging so fast he thinks it’s gonna fly off at any moment. He also feels you tighten up around him, bringing that special treat even closer to reality. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her thighs while keeping the panties as far out of the way as physically possible at the same time.

It’s no time before she seizes up above you and gushes all over your face. You take in every drop you can, not letting up at all as she rides it out. She grips the couch cushion and your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Leon watches the beautiful sight in front of him. Seeing it only serves to drive him to his own edge. He slams into you a few more times. Then he unloads and sprays your favorite treat deep inside you. He fucks it into you, making sure you get it all as he moans and locks his hands on your hips.

You have your own release too. It’s muted compared to the last three, but still enough to have your body rolling and your moans loud enough to be heard from within the confines of Ada’s thighs.

She’s the first to come back to reality. Leon’s pulled out of you and laying back against the cushion while you’ve collapsed where you were. She lifts your head and swings her legs around to sit normally. She places your head back down on her lap and soothingly strokes your head.

“Good girl. You did perfect. We couldn’t ask for more,” she coos.

“Thank you,” you murmur while pressing your face against her legs.

Leon isn’t long after her to rejoin the land of the lucid. He sits up with a few deep breaths and scoops up your lower body to flip you over and hold your legs in his lap. He rubs your belly and watches over you as you sit in the afterglow of all that ecstasy.

“You worked so hard, pup,” he says softly, “We’re so proud of you.”

They both relax and catch their breaths while showering you with gentle touches and kind words. You couldn’t be happier. While you were all tuckered out for today, you couldn’t help your thoughts from drifting to the next time you could play all together again. You float off into a nap as you rest in the loving cocoon of their affection.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x you #ada wong x reader #ada wong x you #ada wong x y/n

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rageserenity · 1 month

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year

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Dark!Aemond Targaryen: Size Difference

Pairing: Dark Aemond Targaryen x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Short reader; Non-con; Forced Breeding; Forced Pregnancy.

AN: I got inspired to write this out of nowhere. Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Aemond is absolutely infatuated with the way he towers over you. How the top of your head is barely able to reach his shoulder. How small and powerless you appear next to him.

It fills him with flaming desire and possessiveness to see your small delicate figure next to his robust one. The things he could do to you, if only you were married already.

He never skips the chance to ask your hand for one (or too many) dances, admiring the way his large hand envelopes your smaller one entirely and he can’t stop imagining how one single hand of his could cover your entire breast. The way you have to tilt your head upwards to be able to face him.

The fact that he’s enamored by you isn’t missed by the court. Rumors and gossip of the young and fierce prince having fallen for you. Your parent’s are overjoyed when a marriage proposal comes for you and even though you're not certain about Aemond, you bow your head and accept your duty.

Once you’re officially betrothed, Aemon will be much less careful when it comes to letting you know about his obsession for you. He’s always around you, continuously requesting your presence in the library to spend time together or summoning you for some supper together.

His hand will linger around the small of your back for more time than appropriate as he guides you through the extensive gardens for a morning walk. His hands enveloping your neck as he presents you with a diamond necklace.

If it’s a social event, Aemond will remain fixed by your side, a cold expression on his face as people approach you to speak. He doesn’t allow any man to ask your hand to dance, his eye squinting with annoyance if they dare to talk to you.

Aemond swears that the day of your wedding is the most marvelous day he’s lived. Even though you hold a solemn expression, Aemond still adoringly gazes at you, your delicate figure on the gorgeous white dress making his cock painfully ache for you.

That night, he’ll let out all of the filthy fantasies he’s been dreaming about.

As soon as you get to your private chambers, Aemond is quick to rip you out of the dress, shocking you to say the least. He swallows all of your protests with an intense kiss, easily holding you down on the bed with his hands intertwining your own on each side of your head.

It’s a struggle to fit his wide cock inside your tiny pussy and your wails of pain are more than enough to prove that, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

You’re so tight around his cock that Aemond can’t pull away from you. He fucks you with rough thrusts that make the bed quiver, his hips continuously hitting you with immense force, causing shaken wails from you.

He forgets about your pain, focusing on his own pleasure as he keeps thrusting you with long, deep strokes. His face close to your tear stained one, features contorted by pain as your new husband doesn’t seem to stop any time soon.

Aemond is restless, fucking you several times over the course of the night, even though you’re sore and tired. You’re not strong enough to stop him and he won’t cave in. He fills you over and over again until he’s sure you’ve taken his seed, his babe growing inside you.

In the morning, the maids are surprised to find you in a miserable state, dark bags and red eyes with the bed in a complete mess. But the way your inner thighs are covered in Aemond’s cum is more than enough to say everything.

Needless to say that your wedding night won’t be the last, Aemond’s insatiable when it comes to having you. He can easily bend you down, forcing you into any position he wants as you’re no match for him. He peppers you in kisses, muttering sweet words as he fucks you desperately.

Soon, you’re with child and Aemond is more in love with you than ever. It’s a dream for him, seeing you getting so big and fragile with his child growing inside you. That’s something he intends to keep doing for as long as you can give him babes.

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elllisaaa · 2 months

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how seventeen would confess to you - vu vers.

-> pairing : svt vu × gn!reader

-> words count : 3.5k words

-> genre : svt members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : while make you giggle and kick your feet

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.

YOON JEONGHAN - SNEAKY

he’s a tease.

i’m sorry but do something ridiculous and he’s gonna bring it back until the end of your life.

but you’ve been friends for a long time, and you have many embarrassing things to remind him too.

so it’s really a silly little war of who will tell the most unhinged story about the other.

both of you like to do game nights, but you eventually realized how competitive he was, and how he didn’t mind cheating as long as he won, luckily, you were the same.

it makes you laugh most of the time, especially when he is like that with his members.

but he also knows when to calm down and be serious. he would be there for you without you even needing to say anything.

i think he’s a great listener too, ready to ease all your worries and remind you of your own value.

he’s the sweetest when he wants to, but he’s also a menace.

because he’s also flirty sometimes, playing it as a joke but deep down, he hopes that one day you’ll catch on how much you actually mean to him.

being the tease he is, his confession would be like that too.

“- So, I need your advice on a situation.”

You sat in front of him, handing him a hot mug of tea, enough to last through all his gossip. It was not unusual for the both of you to meet on your days off and just spill the tea about your coworkers and friends, laughing at each other's stories.

“- I’m all ears !

I have a friend who’s like… Really in love with his best friend, he has been for years actually. I think everyone around them has noticed how much he likes them, except them of course. And he wants to finally confess, but he doesn't know how to, and I don’t know how to help him myself.”

Jeonghan tried to not let any emotion show on his face as he was telling you his well-prepared speech. His goal was to keep on his little game for as long as he could, just to tease you like he loved too. He got out of his thoughts when you talked again, answering his indirect question.

“- Well, I think he should just go for it. If they’ve been best friends for this long, they should be as comfortable around each other as we are, and he shouldn’t be afraid of breaking their relationship or not. Like, if you were telling me that you have feelings for me, it wouldn’t change anything for me. You’ll still be my best friend.”

Suddenly, doubt was filling up his heart. Has he been mistaken by your behavior and his friends' comments about the two of you ? What made him so sure that you loved him like he loved you ? But now that he was there, he should finish what he started, right ? Jeonghan took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his cup of tea, too shy to meet yours.

“- And if I tell you that this friend is me… Would you reconsider the best friend title ?”

The silence that answered his question encouraged him to lift his head from the contemplation of his drink, meeting your wide eyes already staring at him, making him giggle. You finally snapped out of it, a soft smile stretching out your lips as you reached for his hand over the counter of your kitchen, interlocking your fingers. Jeonghan hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat going crazy at the simple and sweet gesture.

“- It depends… If I get to call you my boyfriend, then yes.”

“you can call me whatever you want as long as i’m yours.”

HONG JOSHUA - SECRET

truly a gentleman like he’s holding the door for you, opens your water bottle for you, always asks if you need help when he has free time.

as seventeen makeup artist, you followed them on tour and on almost every event, being one of the seniors of your team.

and joshua always asked you to do his makeup.

you assumed it was because he had known you for a long time and was more comfortable around you than another younger makeup artist.

but as time passed, he started to throw little compliments between asking about your day and what you had for lunch.

he looooves the way you blush every time he tells you that you’re pretty. h

e’s so sweet too, always has one or two snacks ready when you come to do his makeup because he knows about your habit of skipping meals because of work.

he would inevitably end up giving you his personal number, and you would talk all day, coming to know each other more and little by little, you fell in love with each other.

but for the sake of both your jobs, it had to stay a secret, until one particular day.

“- Where’s Y/N ?

- Ah ! They had to replace someone that called in sick today. I’m sorry, I know you like her to do your makeup.”

Joshua shook his head, encouraging your coworker to go on and carrying a little conversation with her. But she could tell that he was out of it. He was thinking about you. About how he became so used to your presence by his side everyday. How not having you close to him, talking to him, touching his face had him feeling empty, as if something was missing. Well, you were missing. And he didn’t realize until now how much he was relying on you.

Of course, he knew how dangerous it was for his career to date you, how risky it was regarding your job too, but he couldn’t help being drawn to you everytime, and neither could you, like magnets attracting each other. He stayed professional on stage though, delivering his performance as perfectly as usual, but his members could tell that something was bothering him, and every one of them knew the reason very well : you.

“- Hey Y/N.

- Joshua ? What are you doing here ?”

He didn’t answer right away, gesturing for you to follow him to an empty dressing room. You couldn’t help throwing glances all around you, making sure that no one was witnessing this. But you trusted Joshua : he would never put you or him in danger voluntarily.

“- I have to tell you something. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I believe you feel the same about it but I need to tell you regardless.”

His gaze was so soft, so loving, you couldn’t ignore anymore how he made your heart swell. You had noticed that your feelings were mutual, but you also knew that you couldn’t be together.

“- You know we can’t… I don’t want to hold you back, I don’t want you to take such risks for me. You worked too hard for your dream to give it up just for me.”

Joshua could see your eyes filling up with tears, and he stepped forward, cupping your face in his hands in hopes it would comfort you. All he wanted was to take care of you, not to make you cry.

“- It’s gonna be complicated, yes, but I don’t want to give up on either my career or you. You’re so dear to me, I think you don’t realize how much you mean to me, how right it feels to be appreciated for who I really am. Maybe… Maybe we can at least try. I love you so much Y/N.”

And how could you say no to that ? To his lovestruck gaze focused on you, only you ? How could you reject him when he’s all you can think about everyday ? You stepped forward to hug him, relaxing in his hold and warmth as Joshua let out an audible sigh of relief too.

“- I love you too, I love you so much…”

“you’ll be my secret, this way I can keep you all to myself.”

LEE JIHOON - IMPOSSIBLE

i think that he would be a little cold with you at first, out of shyness and because he’s an introvert.

but you always made sure to include him In your conversations with the other members, and to talk to him even if he didn’t answer more than two words.

little by little, he started to open up, to feel really comfortable around you.

maybe it was because of the way you always focused only on him whenever he was talking, or because you were always interested in whatever he was doing.

would want you to listen to every song he produces before everyone else because he values your opinion so much.

he didn’t exactly know but he felt something so soothing when he spent time with you.

so when mingyu told him that you had a boyfriend, he was disappointed – and even more so when he finally met him and saw how badly he treated you.

jihoon would go on and on about how shitty your partner was, advising you to leave him, not only because of his selfish reasons, but mainly because he felt like the boy didn’t deserve you.

you would come to his studio after every fight, and he couldn’t do anything else than watching you cry your eyes out.

“- I’m sorry, I’m always here bothering you…

- You’re never bothering me Y/N, if you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to smile, but that only forced another tear to roll down your already soaked cheeks. As if he knew better than yourself what you needed, Jihoon opened his arms and you gladly accepted his hug, basking in his warm embrace.

“- What did he do this time ?”

Jihoon knew that his tone was accusative. But at this point, he couldn’t care anymore, he couldn’t bear to see you cry every other day because of an asshole who didn’t realize how lucky he was. And he could only assume that he did something bad, because all you’ve ever tried to do was make him happy.

“- He just.. Forgot our date, again… I’m so tired of this Jihoon, I’m doing my best for this relationship to work but he doesn’t even try…”

Your voice was muffled by his hoodie, your face still buried in his chest as you talked, but your words still broke his heart. He was tired too. Tired of seeing you cry, tired of seeing you wasting your time for someone who didn’t care about you, tired of seeing you think that you were not enough.

“- You already know what I think about this but… You should really leave him. You deserve to be loved, really loved. And he’s not loving you right.”

Slowly, you lifted your head from his chest, your teary eyes glaring confusingly at him.

“- But who would love me right ?

- Me. I would. I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

Jihoon lifted a hand, fingers brushing delicately against your cheek. He knew he could be good for you, knew that he could treat you well if only you let him, if only you let him one chance to prove it, he’ll do anything to make you happy. And you knew he would, knew that you would fit perfectly in his arms. But was it reasonable ? You had been with your partner for two years. Two years and still, what you felt for him never came close to what you felt for Jihoon, to how he made you shiver every time he touched you, to how he made butterflies come alive in your stomach every time he looked at you.

“- I think you could…”

And even if both of you still needed to figure some things out, you knew that you finally made the right choice. You were finally where you belonged to.

“i’m going to make up for all the times he couldn’t be by your side.”

LEE SEOKMIN - FLOWERY

sweet and funny.

i feel like he would treat you like his partner even if you’re not, maybe to hint at you that he has feelings but i mostly think it’s just because he cares so much about you.

he’ll do things like giving you his clothes when you’re cold, or feeding you when you want a taste of what he’s eating.

basically, it’s almost like you’re already together because he’s also very touchy and clingy.

he’ll hug you as a greeting every time, and he always has his arm around your shoulders when you’re sitting next to each other.

tbh, he would start to question your feelings at one point because was he not making it obvious enough that he had a big crush on you ???

but at the same time, he’s afraid that you mistake that for just a very close friendship so he doesn’t want to ask you straight away either.

so he would try to make something a little more sneaky by delivering a bouquet of your favorite flowers at your place, with a card only saying “i love you”.

“- Maybe they’re from Soobin ?”

You and your friend start laughing, but Seokmin, who witnessed the whole conversation, was not. Did you really think that these flowers were from someone else ? He clearly remembered the day you told him what your favorite flowers were, and that you also told him he was the only one to know that. So why would you lie to him ? Or tell it to anybody else ? Maybe it was nothing, but his heart felt heavy as he got back to his video game with Wonwoo.

You obviously noticed how Seokmin was very distant the whole day. It was supposed to be a fun afternoon with most of your friends, but you ended up being more worried about what was going on with him. Did you do or say something to upset him ? Did you hurt him in any way without being aware ? You couldn’t recall anything that could explain why he was so cold with you.

“- Hey Seokmin…”

The boy turned around when you joined him outside, and he couldn’t avoid you, nor the conversation that would follow this time. He knew that he was being childish, knew that he should have maybe just told you how he felt instead of being upset over you for something you were not responsible for.

“- Hi Y/N…

- You’ve been kind of avoiding me… Did I do something ? I just want to understand what happened so I can fix it.”

Seokmin closed his eyes and sighed, a pained expression on his face. He was dumb, he was so dumb. He wanted to make you feel loved, not like you did something wrong when it was him who was being sulky over nothing.

“- Fuck, no… You didn’t do anything, I promise. I’m just a coward.”

You looked at him, confused as you cocked your head to the side and Seokmin turned around to face you, trying to hold your gaze even if he could feel his cheeks start to burn from how ridiculous he felt.

“- The flowers… They are from me. And I heard you say that you think they were from Soobin instead and I… I don’t know why but it hurt because you said that you only told me which one were your favorites. And it made me feel so special, I wanted it to stay our thing.”

You stepped in, until you could hold his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. The atmosphere had switched to a much lighter one as you smiled at him, finding him very cute as he tried to look composed but was really not, with his red face.

“- I was joking, I knew they were from you, they could only be from you. And yes, it is our thing, because I want to share this kind of thing only with you. You’re special to me, and I wanted to thank you for your gift but you didn’t let me.”

Seokmin shook his head, laughing at his own stupidity. But all that mattered to him was how it turned out in the end.

“next time i’m offering you flowers, it’s to celebrate our first date.”

BOO SEUNGKWAN - BRAVE

needless to say that he is a drama queen, always has something to bitch and vent about.

but obviously, you’re the same - that’s why you get along so well - so you’re always here to listen to all his gossip, and vice-versa.

i think that both of you would also hold a grudge about something ridiculous the other did years ago but that you still bring up during every argument (thinking about me and my best friend fighting over a piece of salad and a potato since middle school)

overall, it’s very entertaining to spend time with him because he’s so sassy… that’s hilarious.

since you gossip a lot, you know almost everything about each other's lives, you have literally no boundaries.

and you also love to sit down after a tiring week, with a show you both love as a background noise while you talk about what happened.

a very comfortable relationship, based on trust and really open-minded.

that’s why you’re not afraid to talk to him about your love life even if seungkwan always seemed to push back on the subject (understandable when he had a crush on you for years).

“- So you’re going to meet with him again ?

- Yeah, I think so… He’s not really my type usually, but he’s not that bad, and he’s kind so maybe I should give him a chance.”

Seungkwan scoffed, looking away from your face and focusing on the tv instead. He didn’t want to hear another one of your failed dates with guys that didn’t deserve you. He never understood why you did that, not when he was right there.

“- Why do you always react like that ? Do you not want me to find the love of my life ?

- It’s not where you will find it.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, but you felt a weight on your heart as he rolled his eyes. Seungkwan was never really interested whenever you talked about your current love life. However, he loved to bitch about your exes, but everytime you mentioned a new guy you were expecting to go out with, he seemed almost annoyed. You never understood why, because he loved drama so much, and your dating life was the best source of drama. But for some obscure reason, he stayed silent.

“- I just don’t want to be alone.

- We’re always together, you’re not alone.

- I know but… I want to come home and have someone waiting for me and hugging me. And I want to fall asleep in somebody else's arms. And I want to feel loved at the end of the day.”

Your gaze was focused on the show playing on the screen, while Seungkwan was watching you, noticing how your facial expressions had changed. He knew you weren’t joking anymore, and maybe it was time for him to stop being silly too.

“- I could do all that. You’ll never be alone if you were with me.”

When you looked at Seungkwan again, he was already staring at you, more serious than he had ever been. A smile blossomed on your face, because all you ever wanted was to be his.

“- Does that mean you're willing to offer yourself in sacrifice and be my boyfriend ?”

“if that means spending every day of my life by your side, then yes, i'll do it gladly.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

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krirebr · 5 months

Text

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother.

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk.

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn.

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?”

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible.

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him.

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called.

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you.

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable.

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–”

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck.

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead.

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to.

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom.

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?” His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering.

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say.

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was.

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest.

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead.

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight.

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him.

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

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#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers #knives out #captain america #reader insert #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this #ce characters

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abbyromanoff · 6 months

Text

YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MINE

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,475

WARNINGS: angst, cheating, divorce, depression, fluff, mind manipulation, the hex being created, pregnancy, kinda dark, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda hummed as the flavors hit her taste buds, her eyes directed at you as she smiled warmly.

“How do you like the dinner, sweetheart?” You grinned beneath the fork inside your mouth, instantly returning your lips back to a thin line when her eyes left you.

“Well, I hope you’d like it, I spent many hours prepping this.” She chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze from across the table. You still didn’t utter a word, she was growing concerned.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You shrugged, nervously playing with your food as you bit the inside of your cheek, a habit you started and failed to stop, much to Wanda’s liking.

“C’mon, you can talk to me, that’s what I’m here for.” You looked up, noticing her intense gaze that showed she knew exactly what you were going to say.

“You still haven’t signed the papers.” Her body tensed, her eyes shutting as she sighed. Her hand balled into a tight fist as she continued to eat. She could see you were lacking the ring on your finger, the sight making her want to crawl into a corner and cry her eyes out. There was no way out of this, she realized, so she had to make one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“My fucking God, Wanda,” You slammed your hands down, standing as you paced urgently. She refused to look, instead finding her meal all the more interesting.

“You’re pathetic, you know that? You can’t sign some fucking papers, really? This marriage has been ruined the moment you slept with that tramp.” The realization made her throat tighten, tears nearly ready to spill from her loopy eyes.

“I told you it was a mistake, it meant nothing-”

“That doesn’t stop the fact that it happened, Wanda! Do you think it’s easy for me to have to live here daily? To see you and constantly be reminded of what you did? I worked so hard to even convince myself I was worthy of you, and you go and do this?” She cowered down, wiping her hands on the small cloth in her lap while you stared at her, nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix what you did-”

“God, will you let me fucking speak?” She yelled, growing frustrated with the constant interruption. You didn’t refute, instead placing your hands on your hips as you waited for her voice to return.

“I told you, I was drunk and she looked so much like you. We were fighting, I was upset, you were too, so I went out and got wasted to the point I could barely walk. I saw her there and I…I let her take me home, but when I woke up I- I realized what I did and I knew I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.” You already heard the story before, the same one that haunted you in your dreams. You imagined someone else being able to hear the moans she promised were only for you, it made you violently ill.

“I made a promise to you, and I plan to keep it. I will never, and I mean never, touch a drink again. I won’t even look in another woman’s direction because I don’t need to when I have my wife right in front of me. My perfect, breathtaking, loving wife that I care for so much.” She wrapped her arms around your waist as she dropped to her knees, placing her forehead against your thigh.

“Please, baby, I don’t know how many times I have to apologize before you forgive me, but I’ll continue to tell you for the rest of my life.” She placed small kisses against the covered skin, feeling the warmth that you supplied, the same warmth that brought her comfort at night. Now it brought her shame and guilt, but she’d rather carry that burden for the rest of her life than lose you for even a moment.

“I don’t want to have to be reminded of what you did for the rest of my life, Wanda. I’m constantly having someone down my ear telling me how terrible you are, and how I should never forgive you. For fucks sake, even our friends have told me to leave you! How am I going to look them in the eye again knowing all they see is someone who’s too gullible to even leave their cheating wife?” You sobbed, and the look on your face only brought misery to the woman. You seemed so lost, so exhausted, and she was the cause.

“I know, I know, and none of this is fair to you, and I’m so sorry I caused this-”

“Stop saying sorry. Please, I can’t do this.” You begged, your voice cracking as you drew more emotions.

“But I mean it! I never want you to feel like I don’t want you because I want you more than anything. I need you, Y/N, I need you in my life.” It was true, she didn’t know how to properly function without you. You were the only one who kept her going, you were the one who held her when she felt like she couldn’t stand. When she was ready to give up, she had you holding her back. Without you, she’d be nothing.

“You say you need me, but you don’t consider what I need. And what I need is for you to let me go, and sign the papers.” You wanted to give in, to fall into her embrace and let her make it up to you. But you couldn’t, your mind would never let you forget the scene you walked in on. And maybe you’d still remember it vividly without her, but at least you wouldn’t have to be in the exact place it happened with the person who did it. At least you could move on and find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like this, intoxicated or not.

“No- no, I won’t do it.” Tear stains painted your shirt from where her head rested, you knew you’d have to throw this out sooner than later.

“Wanda, please, just do it.” You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to ignore her pleas.

“But-”

“I’m begging you, Wanda. If you truly loved me, you’d want me to be happy.” She rushed towards you when you tried to escape her tight hold.

“You’re happier with me-”

“I can’t be happy with you, not when I can’t stop thinking about what you did. It ruined me, Wands, and it continues to haunt me every breathing moment.” The nickname brought a crack to her rotting heart. Her body felt like it was decaying the more you pulled away and the more she tried to hold on.

“You’re going to sign the papers. And then I’ll be gone. This is best for the both of us, you’ll learn to live without me.” She felt as though she was going to be sick, why were you still denying her? She couldn’t let you go. No, she couldn’t.

You leaned down to her level, moving the hair that covered her face out of the way. You cupped her cheeks, smiling sadly as her sobs caused her hands to shake lightly. She reached out hopefully, copying your action and bringing herself closer.

“Can I- can I have one last kiss, at least?” You looked down, sighing as you shook your head before returning her gaze.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think either of us will be able to stop.”

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” You chuckled, and it felt like music to her ears. She smiled warmly, even though her chest tightened and her breath cut short.

“I love you, Wanda, I always will. Maybe we were just never meant to be, and that’s okay. But if I don’t let you go now, I’ll never be able to be happy.” But you could’ve been meant to be, she realized. You could’ve been the best, most loving couple. Your kids would’ve grown up in a healthy, safe household full of love. But that all came to an end when that night left her hopeless, she pleaded with God constantly to rid her actions but they were never heard.

“I love you too, Y/N, and I want you to be happy, I just wish I could’ve been the reason.”

“You were.” The past tense was what caused her body to crash into yours. She lost all control as your arms brought her a sense of comfort she lacked for so long.

“I’m sorry I failed you.”

In a few months, the divorce was being settled and you officially moved out. You had been staying with a friend for some time, and she was more than happy to help you out. She had been in a similar situation before, so it was clear what she had to do when she saw you standing on her front porch. Wanda thought she would be able to see you when you would gather your stuff from her place, but a multitude of your friends went instead, all of them giving glares to the older woman as she refused to look at the empty home. It seemed wrong without your stuff here, and all she had were pictures of the two of you that she couldn’t remove.

She felt hopeless as time progressed, and the lack of messages or calls from you only made time move slower. Every day felt like a decade as she failed to execute basic human needs. She often struggled to get out of bed or brush her teeth, and now it’s been two days since she last showered. She wondered how you were, she hoped you weren’t in such a horrid state like herself. But a part of her also hoped you were, just so she knew you still cared.

Eventually, it all became too much. She hadn’t slept in her bed in over a year, the constant reminder that another laid where you once were disgusted her. The couch had become her home, but even the couch seemed to shame her. Her favorite movies didn’t feel the same without you laughing with her. The sitcoms she loved so much now annoyed her; she had changed completely, and it was all her fault.

She couldn’t hold it back anymore, she broke. Her small, empty home in the town of Westview became full once again. She didn’t know what happened. One moment she was sobbing uncontrollably while huddling close to the stuffed animal she had won for you on your first date, then the plain walls filled with hope. Her heart slowly gained a beat, and her hands felt warm again. She stood in front of a door, her fist finding the wood and creating a small knock.

“It’s open!” She heard, and she stopped in her tracks. It was you, it was your angelic voice that was slowly fading from her mind. She gulped fearfully before twisting the knob, letting her legs take control as she stepped forward.

“Love, you’re home!” You greeted with a smile, turning to face her as Wanda’s eyes fell on the toddler being held in your arms. She had the same hair as Wanda, and while it wasn’t easy to spot from so far away, she could see her green, piercing eyes looking back at her. The child giggled and pointed her chubby finger her way, causing a smile to break out on her face.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” You asked when she didn’t move, her mouth agape and her hands nearly releasing the briefcase she held.

“Yes…everything is just perfect, my love.” She mustered out, rushing towards your figure and embracing you in a tight hold. The replica of her was left with a small kiss to her forehead before she took her into her arms, blowing raspberries on her exposed tummy. Alana giggled again, and it felt like Wanda’s ear would explode. She felt like she was dreaming, only this wasn’t the nightmare she fought with every night. No, this time you were here to cure her.

“Momma!” She heard from a distance, seeing a young boy running to greet her. He hugged her leg tightly, causing Wanda to stumble before she leaned down, ruffling his hair before she gave him a small side hug, the baby in her arms restricting her from embracing him as much as she wanted to.

“Hey, kiddo! How was your day?”

“It was amazing! Me, Mommy, and Alana made dinner!” She gasped, showing her appreciation towards the excited boy before he ran off to the kitchen as she requested. He was still too young to carry his little sister, so she continued to do so.

“And hello to you, my sweet baby.” Wanda placed a small kiss against your stomach, placing her hand against the bump and rubbing her thumb in small, soothing circles.

“Have they been giving you any trouble today?” She asked, resulting in a small sigh from your end.

“They’ve been kicking all day. I swear, if they’re not professional soccer players, I don’t know what else they’ll do.” Wanda laughed before leaving multiple pecks to your lips, grasping your hand in hers before leading you to the kitchen.

“Well, it’s only a few more months until they’ll be out of you, I know you can do it.” You stopped in your tracks, eyeing her and causing the taller woman to stall. Nobody wanted to see you angry, especially when you were pregnant.

“First of all, I don’t see you carrying two demons in your stomach, so I’d shut up if I were you. And, second of all, this is the third time I’m doing this, you are no longer allowed to go without a condom.” She placed her hand on her chest as if she was offended and you grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek before walking through the kitchen door where your son laid out all the dishes for you four. You thanked him before he climbed onto his seat, still finding himself to be too short for the chairs you had. Wanda placed your daughter in the high chair before taking the seat next to her. You noticed her smiling large, her eyes being filled with more joy than usual.

“What’s got you all happy?” She admired the scene in front of her, Pietro Jr and Alana sitting peacefully, both of them sharing the genes she was blessed with. Her partner, smiling back at her while they carried her twins, she couldn’t have asked for anything more.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have all of you.” You blushed, tilting your head slightly as you bit your lip.

“Well, that’s never going to change, sweetheart.” ‘I’ll make sure of it’, she thought.

877 notes · View notes

urprettylittlething · 5 months

Text

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please <3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple.

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe.

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones.

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm.

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours?

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened.

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount.

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag.

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly.

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable.

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start.

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again.

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure.

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit.

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy.

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store.

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic.

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard.

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her.

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone.

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her.

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps.

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax.

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge.

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there.

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc.

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention.

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside.

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside.

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door.

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together.

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them.

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation.

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.”

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching.

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent.

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present.

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly.

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle.

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm.

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them.

Wherever it was, it was concerning.

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway.

1, 2.

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest.

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door.

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door.

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could.

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down.

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever.

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway.

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious.

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside.

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair.

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry.

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality.

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps.

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble.

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing.

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling.

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her.

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps.

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds.

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with.

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air.

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’.

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief.

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind.

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her.

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time.

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known.

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators.

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns, or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones.

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed.

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her.

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror.

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through.

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him.

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling.

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle.

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles.

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need.

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed.

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her.

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well.

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds.

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response.

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it.

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time.

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey.

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

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party-hearses · 8 months

Text

don’t be a brat, baby | joel miller x f!reader

sequel to relax, baby

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

wordcount: 7.2k

summary: in a desperate attempt to get back into Joel’s arms, you brave a night at the bar with your coworkers.

series warnings/tags: porn with some plot (oops), explicit smut, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names (princess, baby), language, size kink, praise kink, public sex (kinda), bulge kink, joel and reader being a menace to everyone around them. lmk if I’m forgetting anything!

author's note: thank you so much for all the love on relax, baby! i honestly can’t believe how many people requested a part two. i had so much fun writing this. comments, reblogs, asks, feedback, etc. are SO SO SO appreciated! i swear i don’t bite. 🫶

🖤 dedicated to @nostalxgic forever and always

Monday morning comes both too quickly and not quickly enough.

Declining all invitations from friends over the weekend, you had been all too content to remain in your bedroom, hands shoved down the front of your underwear, the film reel of Joel’s hands on you a constant replay in your mind. Joel’s everything, if you’re being honest.

A mixture of excitement and anxiety coils in the pit of your belly, overflowing into your extremities. You flex your fingers against the steering wheel in an attempt to diffuse some of the nervous energy, but the knowledge that you’re walking — falling — into unknown territory sits at the forefront of your mind.

Can he fire you for fucking in the office? Even if it was him you were fucking?

When you arrive, Joel’s truck isn’t in the lot, but that’s standard for this early in the morning — he’s made it clear he’s not an early-to-rise, early-to-work kind of guy.

There’s some comfort in knowing if he shows up at all, it won’t be until later in the day. The ability to shove off the inevitable strangeness, whatever shape it may take, allows you to actually get out of your car and get moving.

But as you unlock and open the door, the celluloid frames of your memory catch fire — burning the imprint of Joel’s body hovering above yours, the thick ropes of the muscles in his neck drawn taut, into the spaces that burst with color behind your eyelids.

A heated flush creeps across your collarbones, the distinct recognition of arousal blooming in your chest.

You shove the feeling all the way down to your toes, sweeping your gaze across the surface of the desk.

It does look somewhat neater than it had when you’d left, everything stacked in the appropriate piles, the receipt book tucked away in the drawer. Credit where credit is due, you think, wondering how defiled the paperwork actually is, and if Joel would have even noticed.

Settling in to try to determine if any of it is salvageable (it is…regrettably), you do what you can to ignore the pavlovian-like wetness pooling at your core. Just being in the office, being seated in the chair, makes it difficult not to drop your fingers between your thighs at the memory of it. For a split second, you consider if it’s something you could get away with.

Pushing back from the desk, stretching the lengths of your arms against the lip of it, you drop your head back, releasing a long, slow breath. Get it the fuck together. You will not masturbate at work to the thought of your boss. Even if your boss had let slip that he masturbated to the thought of you…

Oh, god.

Caffeine. You need caffeine. Of course you need caffeine, because coffee fixes everything — including your need to have Joel’s cock jammed into the furthest reaches of you as soon as possible.

Grateful for something tangible and decisive, you rush out of the office, barely remembering to lock the door behind you.

Your blood now buzzing with the first few sips of an iced latte, you push the door to the office open with your hip, the already too-hot morning sun pouring into the room around you.

“Mornin’, princess.”

You freeze, fingers gripping the sweating plastic cup in your hand. Cunt throbbing at the deep baritone of his voice, a dull ache pulling across your lower half. The realization that you hadn’t needed to unlock the door dawns on you.

He’s seated at the desk, pushed back with both feet kicked up on the surface of it. Arms bent at the elbow into acute angles, fingers laced behind his head. The sun paints him in a silhouette, hiding his strong, angular features.

If you weren’t practically salivating just from the sight of him, you’d wonder why the fuck he always seemed to need to have his dirty work boots all over your paperwork.

“Joel,” you whisper breathily, “didn’t know you’d be here this early.” Any irritation you feel is washed out by arousal. Goddamnit.

Mechanically, you kick the door closed behind you, the click of the latch settling into your bones.

Joel hums stoically, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Get anythin’ done this mornin’?” he asks, pointedly.

Dragging your lower lip into your mouth with your teeth, you shake your head slowly. The anxiety you’d been feeling all morning flares, threatening to spill over.

Can you file for unemployment if you’ve fucked your boss?

“Nah, me either.” He slaps the palms of his hands spiritedly against the flat of the desk, pushing himself up off the chair. “Been a little…distracted.”

His face relaxes into a dangerous smirk, eyebrow quirked, gaze burning into you.

Arrogant motherfucker.

You plant your free hand on your hip. “Really? Playing the fucking ‘boss’ card?”

“Yeah, I’m playin’ the fuckin’ boss card.”

He laughs, his dark eyes glowing with what you can only call depravity — a commanding acknowledgement of what he knows he’s doing to you. Like he could swallow you whole, if given the chance.

You’d let him, you think.

“Can’t be here long,” he says lowly, eyes roving over you — devouring you. “Have a few sites to be at this week. Only stopped by to make sure everything here was…goin’ okay.”

The invisible addendum hangs in the air between you: to torture you.

His long legs bring him to stand in front of you in just a few short steps, his heady scent all-consuming. Clean, comfortable, him. There are only a few inches of space between your bodies, and the tips of your fingers tingle with a need to run them over the solid plane of his chest. To drag them through his unkempt waves.

His presence is imposing — commanding the room, even when it’s just you inside it. Looking down at you, chin angled, he curls his fingers into the plush of your cheeks. It makes the electricity crackling between the two of you that much more real, the doubt you had earlier melting away beneath his touch.

“Baby,” he growls darkly, leaning in to trace the shell of your ear with his nose, “thought about you all fuckin’ weekend.” His free hand snakes around your waist, dropping to squeeze the flesh of your ass through your shorts. “Looked at that picture ‘f you full ‘f my cum so many times.”

Your eyes widen, pupils dilating at the thought of him jerking off to the thought of you, just like you had him. It’s an almost jealous feeling that rolls through you — how unfair that he got to have a visual reminder of it, when all you had was your thoughts.

But it emboldens you.

“Joel,” you pout, speech lilted by his fingers pressing into your flesh, “don’t want you to leave.” You’re not used to being so forward, but you’re also not used to spending entire weekends giving yourself orgasm after orgasm from memories alone.

He gently pulls his hand away from your mouth, the sting of his grip still firm across your face. He doesn’t let go completely, and dragging your bottom lip with his thumb, he juts his own out in mock sympathy. The speed of your heart picks up.

“I’m the boss, remember, princess? Got shit to do.”

Your cheeks burn, eyes narrowing. A reminder that he can be such a fucking dick.

Catching your expression, he laughs again, before dropping his head to kiss up the length of your neck.

“My poor baby. Has to actually get work done today.” It’s a whisper against the hollow of your throat, sending chills rippling through you.

You’re not that naive, despite the way he has you under his spell.

“Fuck off, Joel.” You push your hand against his solid chest, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he catches your wrist in the smooth palm of his hand, pulling you to meet his mouth. The arm that’s still wrapped around your waist drags you further into his body, and you have to stand on your tiptoes to match the intensity of him crashing his lips to yours.

He doesn’t wait for permission before rolling his tongue against yours, taking everything you have to offer. Tracing up the lines of your neck with the rough pads of his fingers, he wraps the thick length of them just below your ear, tipping your head back with his thumb to open you up for him. As he deepens the kiss, you can taste the robust richness of his morning coffee. You briefly consider what it would be like to be the one to make it for him every day.

It’s easy to lose yourself in him, the hypnotic rhythm of his mouth against yours, so it catches you off guard when he pulls back delicately, large hand still cradling your jaw.

“Really have to go, baby,” he says in a murmur against your mouth.

You whimper against him, but acquiesce by untangling yourself from his grip. The ice in your latte has long melted, and you move to chuck it in the trash next to the desk.

Before you can, Joel shoots one arm out across your chest, nuzzling into you to run his nose along the line of your jaw, up to the curve of your ear.

“Still have the panties I ripped off you,” he purrs. “Filled those with my cum, too.”

The rest of the week is much of the same, except you can’t actually get Joel’s hands on you at all. Even in passing.

He’s in and out of the office, finding and filing paperwork, taking and making phone calls, dropping crumpled receipts into your waiting hands. Business as usual.

Seemingly just as frustrated by it as you are, the most you get is a quick nip to the slope of your shoulder as he argues with a supplier.

“Asshole,” he mouths, pointing to his cell phone with his other hand.

You would be a little less tightly wound if it was just Joel, but it almost never is. There’s a steady stream of his guys dawdling around the office at almost all times, your brother being there most consistently. As if he possesses a sixth sense to crowd you out of any chance at revisiting the best dick you’ve ever had.

On Wednesday, he’s picking his fingernails in the chair across the desk, while you work through a spreadsheet of the past month’s expenditures. Mumbling to yourself, eyes focused on the totals, half-listening to him complain about how expensive a wedding is.

“Adam,” you interrupt, breaking your gaze away from the laptop screen. “Obviously weddings are fucking expensive. If you were gonna bitch about it nonstop, why did you even get engaged?”

A beat of silence.

“Damn, what’s your problem?” he sneers after a moment, brows knitted together in what you can assume is annoyance.

I need to be dicked down by our fucking boss, you think, but roll your eyes at him, instead.

“I’m busy.”

Adam snorts.

“Molly would be pissed to hear you talking about your wedding like that, anyway. I’m just doing her a favor.” The end of your sentence tapers off quietly, as you switch your stare back to the screen.

You are partial to Adam’s fiancée, if not for her bubbly personality, for letting you crash with them between semesters every summer.

“I see where your loyalty lies,” he scoffs, raising himself out of the chair. “Thought we were family.”

“Yeah, Adam, me not letting you talk shit about your upcoming wedding is disloyal,” you respond with a single, hollow laugh, distractedly typing a figure into a blinking cell.

He chuckles, running the toe of his boot along the worn carpet.

“Guys’re goin’ out Friday. I can tell Molly that you two can have a girls night. Drink wine and shit. Since that’s who's back you have.”

Keeping your eyes fixed to the screen, you’re desperate to play it casual, despite the intense prickle of your skin. Will Joel be there?

“Or I could come bug the shit out of you, since you love to do that while I’m trying to work.”

“You’re always invited, princess,” he drawls.“‘M sure the guys would love to see you.”

Every part of your body shudders. Typical Adam, upping the ante of disgusting. You choose to ignore it.

“Your boss usually go to these things?” you ask instead, words measured. You don’t dare glance over at your brother, fearing he’d read the intent all over your face.

But he shrugs, unfazed. “Sometimes. Depends, I guess.”

“On what?” This time you do look at him, but his eyes are fixed on his phone screen, thumb scrolling lazily.

He mumbles something that you don’t catch, obviously distracted by what he’s seeing. Useless.

Knowing he’s moved on from the conversation, you sigh with a certain air of disappointment. You could go, you know, on the off-chance that Joel does show up, but the idea of being there alone with your brother and his work friends makes you wrinkle your nose.

Adam turns to leave, throwing a quick see ya over his shoulder as he pulls the door open.

“Hey! Let me know about Friday!” you call after him, raising yourself up on your arms, a half-assed attempt to make sure he hears you.

He’s already on the other side, door whipping shut behind him.

Aggravated, you sink back into the desk chair, raising your fists to settle your chin on them. You feel like a petulant child, continuously denied the thing you want so bad.

There’s a whole part of you that wants to kick and scream until you get it, until Joel is soothing your angry tears with his mouth pressed to your flesh, smoothing out the knots in your limbs, reaching into the most tender recesses of you to undo you.

Ruined, you think, as you draw your knees together tightly in an attempt to relieve the throb of your cunt.

It’s Friday when you’re eating lunch (the saddest salad you’ve ever seen and the dredges of your iced coffee at the desk) when he texts you.

> J Miller: going w your bro tonite?

Your stomach flips. The restlessness that you’ve been feeling all week suddenly dials up to a 10 — an elastic compulsion that weaves itself into your lungs, your breath catching in your chest.

It’s the first time he’s texted you for non-work related things, which, much to your annoyance, should have been immediately after he made you see stars with his cock.

Either way, you’ve never texted anyone back faster.

> Me: are you?

Logic tells you to play coy, to make him wait, but it’s been an entire week since the cosmic shift of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, and you’re going out of your mind trying to get another one. There’s no use in pretending.

>J Miller: i am if you will b

Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, you suppress a grin.

It’s starting to look like you’re not the only one who’s ruined.

The bouncer eyes you up and down, and you’re half-tempted to lean over just a little to showcase your cleavage. The stretchy black dress you’re wearing barely covers your ass, but leaves just enough to the imagination.

You have a feeling that Joel will want to tear it off you, too.

“You alone?” the bouncer asks, gaze flicking between your ID and you.

“My friends are inside,” you coo. “Just gotta meet them.”

He grunts, nodding his head and handing you back the flimsy piece of plastic.

“Gimme a shout if anyone gives you a hard time.”

Flashing the biggest smile you can, you shimmy past him, into the dark bar. Inside, the smell of stale beer and spilled liquor meets you, and you scan the bustling space for anyone you know. The first person you spot is your brother, who waves you over, a pint of dark beer in his hand.

You feel sexy, but overdressed. An upscale cocktail bar The Hideout is not.

As you make your way over to the table, you notice a few recognizable faces from work crowded around, a majority of them sweeping their eyes over your form.

“Hey, Princess. Lookin’ good tonight,” jeers a guy you’ve seen around the site. Kevin? Maybe? Or Alex?

You raise your brows at him, lips pursed. You’ve always hated the nickname, but it feels distinctly wrong now, like it belongs to Joel. You’d like to tell him as much, shove it back in his mouth until he chokes.

But Kevin-or-Alex brings his beer to his lips, eyes still roving over you, corners of his mouth upturned in a sneer.

Moving along, brushing it off, you tip your head to the side, begging your brother for a drink with your eyes.

You don’t need to look around the table to know that Joel is at the end of it, because you can feel his stare burning into you. It takes everything in you to not climb over the guys seated next to him so you can settle in his lap, to grind your hips down into his, but the thought certainly crosses your mind. Knowing you can’t meet his eyes without giving yourself away, you take in the bar around you, gaze bouncing from table to table.

Adam tugs you back from the precipice of your reverie by knocking the table with his knuckles and standing from his chair.

“Gotta get the princess a drink,” he explains to his companions, much to the delight of them all gathered around the table. They laugh uproariously, like he’s just told the best joke of the century. Idiots.

Your brother steers you towards the bar with a hand on the small of your back, and you’re careful to sway your hips just enough as you walk away from the cluster of tables, knowing that Joel is watching. Adam sets his arms across the bartop, and you mirror him, trepidation bubbling in your stomach.

“You good?” he asks over the jukebox, currently blaring a Van Halen song.

“Mmhmm,” you reply, gazing at the bottles of liquor behind the bar.

“You never come out with us,” Adam continues, raising a hand to flag down the bartender. “Kinda weird.”

You shrug, cheeks heating at his questioning. “Dunno. Felt like…I should get to know the guys better.”

He angles his body to you, running his palm over his mouth. There’s a playful look in his eyes, one that you know means he sees right the fuck through you. “Ookay, weirdo. The same guys whose necks you want to wring for calling you ‘princess’ on a daily basis?”

“You call me that, too, asshole.”

He laughs loudly, turning away as the bartender finally makes his way down the bar to the pair of you.

“Vodka water, and a Rumple Minze shot,” you tell him, as he leans in to hear your order over the music.

A quick nod, a swift maneuvering of bottles, and your drinks are pushed in front of you.

“Thank god,” you mumble, picking the cocktail up and sipping it immediately.

“You’re, uh…attracting quite a bit of attention,” Adam says in a low voice, gesturing subtly back to the table of your coworkers.

“Wow, you fuckin’ think?” you roll your eyes, throwing the shot of schnapps back. There’s only one pair of eyes you want on you, and they’re connected to the dick you need in you.

“I’ve never seen you this…” Adam leans into you, bumping your shoulder, “cranky before. Why’d you come out if you’re in a bad mood?”

You soften, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…a little too in my own head lately.”

The understatement of the century, considering that’s where Joel has made a home.

Adam doesn’t respond, just signals to the bartender, ordering you another shot with a flick of his head in your direction.

The shots go down too easy, your skin flushing with the alcohol and body heat of the bar. You stick close to Adam’s side, and it feels like hours before you allow yourself to glance over at Joel.

Your brother is arguing with someone else about the structure of something you don’t care about when you finally work up the courage to do so, anxiously chewing bites into the plastic straw in your drink.

Joel is staring right back at you, same dangerous smirk pulled across his mouth. Watching the way your lips mold around the plastic, teeth scraping the flexible material. You know that smirk all too well, and want blossoms through your body.

The guy next to him is obliviously chatting his ear off, entirely unaware that Joel can’t take his eyes off of you. But he doesn’t make any kind of move to get up, or any kind of indication that he wants you to come over, so you stay rooted to the spot, entirely unsure how to proceed.

Some kind of frustration churns in your stomach, though you allow yourself to shoot him a coy smile over the rim of your glass. He returns the gesture by dipping his chin just slightly and raising his own drink to his mouth.

Whiskey, neat. The thought of tasting it on his tongue makes your cunt clench with need, and you have to look away to keep your composure.

He doesn’t even need to try, and you melt in the palm of his hand. Fuck.

You finish the rest of your drink in one go to try to settle your nerves, and nudge Adam with your elbow to let him know you’re headed back to the bar. He barely acknowledges you, still enthralled with his conversation.

As you slide up to the bartop, you bump shoulders with the person already waiting for another beer.

“Oh! Oops. My bad. Didn’t really…calculate my proximity, I guess.” You giggle as he turns to you, meeting your gaze with a shy smile.

He’s cute, in a fresh-faced and innocent kind of way. Golden brown hair and light eyes, about your age. His navy blue polo hangs a little too loose on his gangly frame, and it’s too easy to imagine him dressed as a mormon missionary to take him seriously.

“No worries. This place is pretty crowded,” he answers, angling his chin down to make sure you hear him.

The way he draws himself close gives you the wickedest of ideas. One that will surely make Joel get out of his seat and pay you the attention you so desperately deserve.

“It’s definitely the place to be, huh?” You purr, flicking your eyes up under your lashes to meet his, gently placing your hand on his forearm.

There’s an immediate dusting of crimson over his cheekbones, and you see him swallow hard.

“Y-yeah, it…it sure is.” There’s the slightest of drawls to his words, like syrup poured over pancakes on a sunday morning. It’s nothing compared to the thunder of Joel’s baritone, the sensual velvet of a saturday night shot of whiskey.

But you keep going, acutely aware of Joel’s eyes burning into your back. Tracing the curves and lines of you, watching every move you make. Watching you put your hands on someone else’s body, the hands that belong to him.

At least…that’s what you hope is going through his head.

The bartender slides your new friend’s beer across the warped wood, looking pointedly at you for your order next.

“Vodka water,” you grin, not removing your hand from the freckled forearm, “with a lemon. Please.”

New friend clears his throat, growing redder by the second.

“On my tab, please.”

“Ohmygod, you don’t need to do that!” You sigh warmly, stupidly. As if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

The drink is placed in front of you in no time, but you still haven’t moved your hand. Instead, you look up at your companion, lashes fluttering.

“You from here?” he manages to choke out, before washing the cliche down with a swig of his beer.

You nod, finally breaking contact to pick up the tumbler of vodka. “Born and raised. You?”

“Here for school. ‘M from Baton Rouge.”

Turning your body to face the open room of the bar, eyes flitting over the crowded space, you lean back on your elbows, drink in hand poised just below the swell of your breasts. There’s no way Joel can miss you, now.

“What’re you studying?” You couldn’t be less interested, but you keep your voice chipper and high, drawing him closer.

“PoliSci. I’m pre-law.” He says it with an air of confidence, which you can’t blame him for. It is impressive.

You take a long sip of your drink, considering how much you want to divulge about yourself to this stranger. How far you’re willing to take this game. You sneak a glance over at Joel, who’s watching you with an amused expression, brows lifted.

“Are you in school?” New friend continues, unaware of the come-fuck-me vibes you’re radiating from across the bar.

But Joel remains planted in his seat, thick thighs spread, left arm draped between them. Leaning back in the booth, matching your energy. Playing the game.

Snapping your attention back to the question, you nod again. “Not here, though. I’m in a masters program in Washington.”

“Do you like it there?”

You throw your head back in laughter, all too aware how ridiculous of a response it is to the question.

“I love it,” you say emphatically, still giggling. “So different from Austin.”

When you look at Joel again, he’s turned his attention to the guy next to him, nodding at whatever he’s saying intently. It stokes the frustration in you, and you can’t help but draw your face into a scowl — an entire 180 from how you’d just been laughing at a non-joke.

Before your new friend can respond to your maniacal answer, you push yourself off the bartop and turn towards him.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick, okay?”

As you wash your hands, the door to the bathroom opens quickly, and Joel ducks inside, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one sees. He pushes it closed behind him, fingers clicking the lock shut like he owns the place.

“Oh,” you gasp in surprise, stepping back from the sink and wiping your hands across the material of your dress. “I didn’t…you’re not…Joel!”

His name comes out of your mouth as a yelp as he crowds you back against the counter, his hands already roaming over the hills and valleys of your body. Wasting no time.

“Baby,” he coos, dipping his head to trail kisses up the curve of your shoulder, “been waitin’ all night for you to go to the fuckin’ bathroom.”

You curl your fingers into his biceps to keep yourself steady while he presses wet kisses to your throat and jaw, before landing at your mouth. Gripping your hips tightly, his thigh nudges between yours, spreading you open. You do what you can to meet his fervor, but as with everything else, he’s domineering — completely in control.

His thick hands drag you up his thigh, into him, and the friction of his jeans against you makes you bite back a moan. He repeats the action with more intensity, obviously dismayed that you’re holding back, quickly establishing a grueling rhythm.

Squirming under his hold, he tastes the desperation on your tongue, and when you finally break and whimper into his mouth, he growls back into yours.

He has you exactly where he wants you — writhing in his arms, soft and compliant to what he needs.

At least, he thinks he does.

You dig your fingernails into the flannel stretched over his arms, steeling your body to his movements, pulling away from the heat of his mouth.

“Joel,” it’s a drawn out lilt, one that he’ll never get tired of hearing.

“Saw you over there tryna make me jealous, princesa,” he mutters, chest heaving against your own. He drops his mouth to press against the burning skin of your collarbone, and you can feel the stretched restraint in his muscled body.

“Wasn’t trying to make you jealous, Joel,” you protest quietly, though you both know it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

He laughs darkly, his breath fanning against your flesh. “Saw you touchin’ all up on some stranger.”

“I was just being nice. He bought me a drink.” You’re pouting now, sliding your open palms to press against the solidity of Joel’s chest.

He whips your body around so quickly that you have to shoot your arms out to the counter to catch yourself. The mirror greets you, and it’s impossible to miss your glowing skin and kiss-swollen lips. It doesn’t take anything for him to make you look entirely fucked out.

Hooking his chin over your shoulder, front pressed flush to your back, he drags his hands up the sides of your body, stopping to rest just below your breasts. His fingers splay out across your rib cage, nearly meeting in the middle.

Eyes meeting yours in the mirror, he smirks.

“Look what I do to you, baby. No one else can do that. Look at yourself.”

He rolls his hips against the swell of your ass, and you can feel his length through his jeans.

Your vision goes cloudy, the want you’ve been feeling all week flooding every part of your brain. You drop your head between your shoulders, relishing the feel of him pressed into you. But he quickly cranes your chin back up in his hands, angling your head to watch the glistening reflection of the two of you.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he says thickly, commandingly, as he continues to move against you. You obey.

“Can’t make me jealous, princess.”

Anger flares in your chest, slowly ebbing into embarrassment. Of course he would see right through you. You should have known better. You don’t break eye contact.

“That picture I have ‘f you? That tells me you’re mine. Can’t make me jealous when I know what belongs t’me.”

You inhale sharply. Hearing him say it, hearing him mean it, sends shivers over the entirety of your body.

“Why’d it take you so long to come over to me, then?”

His eyes flash. “Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, baby.”

Dropping his clutch from your chin to the top of your dress, he uses both hands to scoop your tits out over the bodice of it, palming the weight of them roughly. He rolls your nipples in his fingers, and you have dejavú of the week before.

This time you can see the way his fingers move, the way he watches your face in the reflection of the mirror more than anything else.

You moan, arching your back against his chest, and he drops one hand further to bunch the length of your dress over your ass.

Feeling entirely bare skin, he hisses through his teeth and pulls back to look.

“No panties, baby?”

You smile darkly. “Didn’t want you to ruin another pair.”

“Fuuuuck,” he mumbles, leaning down to flick his tongue against the base of your spine. “Knew you were fuckin’ trouble.”

He rucks your dress up higher, following the hem of it with open mouth kisses and demanding nips. You can feel your dripping slick on the insides of your thighs, and as if he can read your mind, he lays one open palm across your back to press your cheek down into the counter, slotting the other between your thighs to open you up for him. Your breathing quickens, knowing how on display you are.

How under his thumb you are.

Teasing the rough pads of his fingers against your core, electricity rolls through your extremities. Between the flush of the alcohol and the thrill of his touch, you know you’re done for.

“See, baby? How wet y’are? Know it’s only for me.”

Anticipation coils in the pit of your belly, waiting for him to plunge a thick finger inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, laser focused on every nudge and slip of his digits.

Instead, you feel him replace his finger with the thick heft of his cock at your entrance, your hands unsuccessfully scrambling for purchase on the slick marble of the counter.

“Joel,” you yelp, the delicious stretch of it seared into your mind, “I..I don’t kn-”

“You can take it, princess,” he interrupts gruffly. “You can.”

You respond with a strangled noise, knees buckling under the warning press of his palm on your back.

Reading the apprehension in your body, Joel grazes the fingers of his other hand over the curve of your hip, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. They dance up over your belly, finally grasping at your ribs. His mouth follows, gentle kitten licks that calm your breathing, until he stops right below where your breasts are compressed against the counter, sinking his teeth there into the soft give of you.

Both of his hands float back down to your hips, pressing their length into your bones roughly, dragging your ass back to push the tip inside of your slick folds.

Your eyes fly open, and you mewl as his teeth give way to an intense sucking sensation, as if he’s intent on marking you.

Knowing him, he is.

“Okay, baby?” he murmurs against your skin, once he’s satisfied with what you can feel is an angry red mark on your rib cage, sliding his hips forward to give you another inch, working you open, open, open.

“‘F we had more time, you know I’d do it right,” he continues, an almost tender cadence to his harsh whisper.

You nod, cheek still smooshed against the countertop, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. He’s so fucking much.

His breath hitches as he buries himself further, the tight quiver of your perfect pussy making him see stars. He stills for just a moment, letting you adjust to him, lamenting the fact that he couldn’t get his fingers or tongue in you this time. But he’s so very desperate, has been waiting for this for far too long.

He wants to take you home with him, wrap you in his bedsheets. Undo you over and over and over.

For now, though, he will make do with what he has. And what he has is you, wet and needy beneath him, taking his cock like a good girl. Like a perfect girl.

“Joel,” you whisper, snapping him out of his reverie. “More. More please.”

You’re dizzy with need, aching to feel him stretch you open entirely.

He can taste the salt of sweat on your skin, the light sheen of it glittering under the fluorescent bar lights. It makes his heart ache with something he can’t name.

Rolling his head to press his forehead against your back, he can’t help but breathe you in. This is where he wants to be forever — pressed into you, feeling you tremble and keen for him. For him, and only him.

Unable to hold back any longer, he draws his body up, sliding inside to the hilt, pelvis pressed flush to your ass.

There are tears trickling from beneath your closed eyelids now, and he wants to lick them off your face, smooth out the pain in your features. Your body is taut, wound around the throbbing need you’re both feeling, your hands clenched into fists next to your head.

But he watches as you slowly drag your bottom lip between your teeth, sighing contently, savoring the sparks of pain from the size of him. Fucking perfect.

His entire cock has disappeared into your warmth, and you squeeze him like you were made to do so.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he manages to spit out, setting a pace that feels like you’re being split open. It’s exactly what you need.

You rock your hips, pushing back against his thrusts, thigh muscles screaming.

“So full,” you babble back, his hips snapping against the plush of your ass. Giving you everything you need, everything you’ve craved. His tip nudges the furthest part of you, and fireworks explode in your stomach. Your moans pick up at the same pace as his thrusts, and his grip tightens around your hips.

“C’mere baby,” he hums, arcing his arm across your chest to drag you up to him. You can feel the desperation in his movements, the stuttering of his hips as the new angle squeezes his cock deliciously.

He curls his fingers around the base of your throat, and for the first time, you see how absolutely fucked he looks. Black pupils blown wide with lust, strong jaw set to the side, hair mussed more than usual, stray curls clinging to his sweat-damp forehead. He’s beautiful, you think, but your brain can’t connect to your mouth to say so.

His palm spans the width of your throat, and he gently tightens his hold with each deep thrust into you. You raise your arms to card through his hair, clutching to him to ground yourself. His other hand grasps at your tits, caressing and pulling at your hard nipples.

Your legs are shaking with the intensity of it all, with the salacious way he massages your walls with the length of his cock. He’s watching you in the mirror, eyes fixed on the way you tremble around him, the way you grip him like you’ll melt into a puddle on the floor if you let go.

“So fuck…fuckin’ perfect for me, baby. Bein’ s-such a good…good girl,” he pants, and you bask in his praise, letting it fill you from the inside out.

The fingers he has wrapped around your throat inch up to your bitten, parted lips, and you open to accept three of them obediently, his pinkie and thumb clenched firmly around the lines of your jaw.

You wrap your tongue around the digits, saliva pooling in your mouth and dripping down your chin.

He’s so fucking much, and you want to give him everything.

“Say it, baby,” he growls, pressing the calloused pads of his fingers to the broad flat of your tongue. “Fuckin’ say it.”

You meet his fiery eyes in the mirror, brows knitted together in a question.

“Say it,” he repeats, the fingers not in your mouth digging into your jaw. Demanding it.

And like he’s impressing it upon your skin, burning it into your insides, you know what he wants to hear.

“‘M yours, Joel,” you whisper, words mangled by the way he pushes down on the wet muscle in your mouth. “Only yours.”

Dropping his other hand, he ghosts his fingertips over the slight bulge in your tummy, where his cock is nestled. The knowledge that you’re so full of him makes him quicken his rhythm, hips snapping against your ass ruthlessly. Giving you everything he has.

“Princess,” he whispers, nuzzling into your ear. “Gimme your hand.”

He traces up the soft lines of your arm, gently removing one of your hands from his curls, and pulls it down to feel the thick outline of his cock just beneath your belly. He keeps his hand over yours, and you press your own fingers into your flesh, in awe that you’ve taken the whole thing.

Every nerve in your body is a live wire, and you’re suddenly on the very precipice of your orgasm, his hand over yours being what pushes you over the edge.

Fingers still in your mouth, you drop your head back onto his shoulder, moaning around the shape of them, crying out, cunt strangling his already erratic movements as he races to catch up with you at the finish line.

It’s sloppy, saliva still dripping down your chin, your body cresting the wave of your orgasm, his stuttering movements fucking you all the way through it. You go limp as it washes through you, and he’s holding you up for the last few thrusts, growling into your ear and biting at your neck.

All-consuming.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he wraps both arms around you, holding you tightly against him, knowing that you really will melt if he lets you go. He can feel his own orgasm at the base of his spine, crawling up, up, up the column of it, until he’s there, spilling recklessly inside your swollen pussy, pushing himself further into you, making sure it stays.

He doesn’t need to tell you, because you already know.

The warmth of it shoots through his body, and it feels like heaven, buried to the hilt inside of you.

He runs his palms down your sides as you both come down, and even the slight touch makes you shiver. You prop yourself up on your arms again, the tips of your fingers numb from the earth-shattering orgasm.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, satiated and soft.

Joel presses tender kisses across your shoulder blades, hands aimlessly drawing shapes into your plush hips, loathe to pull out of you.

But knowing he must, that his time with you is almost up, he does, drawing his hips back excruciatingly slowly, savoring every second of being inside of you, in whatever capacity. You hiss as he does, feeling so disappointingly empty and stretched open.

Gently caressing the globes of your ass, his palms fitting over them perfectly, he bends down to give you a final nip, laving his tongue over what he hopes will be a mark. You giggle warmly, hands meeting to pull the bodice of your dress back up over your tender breasts, while he pulls the length of it back down to your thighs.

Finally regaining the strength in your legs, you turn to face him, standing on the toes of your platforms to meet him in a kiss, him pulling your bottom lip between his own, sucking gently.

“Joel,” you mumble against him, his name an antidote to the poison of the longest week of your life.

“Baby,” he responds, encircling you with his arms, drawing you closer to him. Not wanting to let you go.

“We have to go” you whisper, pressing kisses across his jaw, his scruff pleasantly abrading your soft lips.

He grumbles an agreement, but doesn’t take his hands off of you.

“Keep my cum inside you,” is what he does say, after a millisecond of silence, as if it was burning his tongue. Like it needed to be said.

You giggle again, supplicant and sweet. Spun sugar on the tips of his fingers. Unwrapping yourself from his arms, you tug his boxers and jeans up, and his fingers fumble to help you. You let your hands wander up the plane of his chest while he clicks his belt into place, wondering how you’ll both fare this weekend.

“Can’t go that long again, princess,” he says, stroking the wild tangle of hair framing your face. “Need you.”

The admission nearly astonishes you. You’ve never seen Joel be so open, so vulnerable, so absolutely fucking wrecked.

“‘N…next time won’t be so…rushed. Wanna take my time with you.”

You believe him.

Hoping your action conveys that message, you press one final kiss to the heart-shaped space in his scruff, before turning to tame the locks of your hair and fix your smudged mascara in the mirror.

“You have my number, Joel.”

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morelikeravenbore · 21 days

Text

✨Sebastian Sallow fluff alphabet

My personal headcanons based on the way I imagine and write Sebastian in How to Make a Villain.

This template is from this post by snowluvs and is definitely worth a read and a reblog! I loooove reading Sebastian headcanons so feel free to write your own, too!

A - Attractive - what do they find attractive about their partner?

We all know that Sebastian has a bit of a savior complex, so he's attracted to a partner who trusts him with their vulnerability by letting him protect them, care for them and fuss over them. However, he also likes a challenge, so someone with a bit of backbone to go with their vulnerability would really pique his interest. It doesn't matter what form that backbone takes, be it academically-focused, impressive duelling prowess, or just someone whose not afraid to call him out when he's acting out of line, Sebastian is undeniably attracted to that spark.

Read on 👇

B - Body - what is their favourite part of their partner’s body?

Given that he craves deep and genuine emotional connection with a partner, he's very drawn to the face: stroking your cheeks, kissing the corners of your mouth, your eyelids, your brows. He finds any excuse to touch your face, whether it be brushing your hair back behind your ear or tenderly wiping food or smudges from your chin with his thumbs. When being intimate, he holds your face between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, never breaking eye contact.

C - Cuddle - how do they like to cuddle?

Sebastian is a squasher. He needs to feel physically close to you and will often forget this own size and strength in his desperation to hold you closer, closer, closer. He hugs you so tightly you can't breathe, or else lays his entire body weight on top of you when you're lying down together or sharing a bed. You often have to remind him to back up a little lest he squeeze the life outta you with his love.

D - Dates - what does their ideal date look like?

Sebastian is spontaneous and impulsive, but beneath all that bravado and charm, he is also quite afraid of rejection, so he might not always straight out "ask" you on a date. Rather, you might find yourself accidentally having dinner together at the Three Broomsticks, or huddled for hours in a cozy bookshop he "stumbled upon" at random. Sebastian considers any time spent alone with you a date, and would later tease you about how many "dates" you've already been on without ever being asked.

E - Equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Generally speaking, Sebastian has a hard time relinquishing control to another. Given his history, he is used to taking charge, solving problems on his own and shouldering the burdens of everyone he cares about — and it goes without saying that he can be incredibly stubborn about accepting help or support, even when he genuinely needs it. However, this does tend to lead to mental and physical overwhelm; decisions become impossible, his body aches with exhaustion, and sometimes the boy just needs you to baby him — while still giving him the illusion that he has everything under control ;)

F - Fight - would they find it easy to forgive their partner? how are they fighting?

My personal headcanon that Sebastian is a Virgo sun, Aries rising. His Aries means he's reactive and oftentimes at the mercy of his more intense emotions (such as anger, jealousy — being ruled by Mars). He doesn't always communicate in a healthy way, he lashes out, snaps, or jumps to wild conclusions that don't make any sense. However, being a Virgo sun means he's ultimately a caregiver with a deep need to fix things and look after you, so he's very quick to apologise and make things right again.

G - Gifts - how do they feel about gift giving? what are their habits when it comes to this?

His gifts are either very practical (something you'll use every day), or something very sentimental (something that once belonged to his mother).

When it comes to receiving gifts, he doesn't believe he deserves them, so giving him something uselful like an interesting book, a set of quills, or a planner is the best way to spoil him without making him uncomfortable. However, if you gift him something sentimental, or something you made especially for him, he'll treasure it for the rest of his life.

H - Holding Hands - when / how do they like to hold hands?

If this boy can hold your hand, he will hold your hand, and if he can't hold your hand, he'll play with your fingers, trace the lines of your palms, brush his pinky against yours. You're his anchor, and your hands are the easiest part to hold on to.

I - Injury - how would they act if their partner got hurt?

Given his history with his parents and his twin, he is completely overbearing any time you're sick or injured. He'll fuss, worry, devise a strict recovery regime, won't allow you to lift and finger, and make you stay in bed long after you're well again. He'll research cures, studies, information about whatever it is that ails you, and will likely tell you all about it in great detail. This is where that lovely backbone of yours will come in handy, because you'll definitely have to sit him down and tell him to relax.

J - Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

For all his wonderful strengths, Sebastian suffers from insecurities born from a lifetime of losing those he loves. His jealousy stems not from your actions, but from a deep-seated fear that you're eventually going to realise that he's as rotten as he believes himself to be and leave him. He can be a bit much, but communication is key.

K - Kisses - how do they like to kiss their partner?

Sebastian loves to kiss your face aaaall over, but once he gets started, he finds it hard to stop. Boy is a kisser, and he can get messy.

L - Love Language - what’s their love language?

Acts of Service and physical affection. Being useful gives him a sense of purpose, and touching gives him a sense of peace, so expect to be well looked after and loved. When receiving love, he responds just as strongly to physical affection, as well as words of affirmation. Tell him he's appreciated and that he's done a good job, and he'll be yours forever.

M - Mornings - how are mornings spent with them?

If you manage to get him into bed before he falls asleep where ever he's been reading or studying, it's a hard job rousing him again. He likes to cuddle, and you'll usually wake up half squashed under his body or tangled up in his arms and legs. He speaks in grunts and groans rather than words, and has super adorable bed hair. He's also usually very hungry in the mornings, so the promise of breakfast will be the motivation for finally getting him up.

N - Nights - how are nights spent with them?

Sebastian loves staying up late and doesn't need much sleep to function. His brain is always running a million miles a minute, so winding down takes him quite a while. He tells you he does his best work at night when the rest of the world is asleep.

O - Open - when would they start revealing things about themselves? how would they do it?

Typically Slytherin, he's evasive about himself and prefers to know everything about you before he opens up. Further to that, theres a lot of pain in Sebastian's heart that he won't share with anyone unless he trusts them completely. But, as Slytherins go, once he does trust you, he'll trust you unconditionally; his secrets will become yours, and yours his, and nothing short of death or betrayal will ever break that bond.

P - PDA - how comfortable are they with pda?

He's a real cheeky little smart arse about it. He loves you so much that he wants everyone to know about. He'll pick you up and spin you around as a standard greeting, sit you in his lap, kiss you midway through a sentence. Sebastian doesn't do things by halves, and the same goes for being in love.

Q - Quirk - what is a random ability that helps the relationship?

His optimism, his adventurous spirit and unquenchable thirst for knowledge means there's never a dull moment in your relationship. Above all else, Sebastian likes to have fun, and your life together will be full of it.

R - Romance - how romantic are they? cliche or creative?

There is nothing conventional or cliche about Sebastian Sallow. In fact, he thrives on being just the opposite. He probably courted you by acting like he was your boyfriend until suddenly he just was, there was likely never any conversation about being official, and the first time he said he loved you was probably in the middle of a heated argument or else said in a way that implied it was already common knowledge to you. But despite his quirks, Sebastian is hopelessly, singularly and passionately devoted to you — just don't expect any grand or sappy gestures of love.

S - Security - how protective are they?

Sebastian is so overprotective that it borders on being overbearing. Truth is, he's terrified of losing you, the one person he loves more than any other, and is prone to bouts of severe anxiety about your health, your commitment to him, and your general safety. His inability to relax is a point of contention in your relationship, and one that you both need to continually work on overcoming together. Communication is key, even when Sebastian jumps to conclusions and assumes the worst. He's not perfect, but he's trying.

T - Talking - what do they like to talk about?

Being a highly intelligent Slytherin means Sebastian loves getting deep. Nothing excites him more than discussing magical ethics, or taboo subjects like the Dark Arts or the use of the Dementors kiss against prisoners. He's unafraid to argue his point and loves a lively debate, but he has mental capacity to respect all viewpoints — even if they conflict with his own. He yearns to understand the inner workings of the mind and takes great pleasure in trying to understand opinions and perspectives that differ to his own. Any subject that expands or challenges his understanding of the world is taken on with great enthusiasm.

U - Understanding - how well do they know their partner?

He's a fast learner, very observant, and madly in love with you (obviously), so he knows basically everything about you. But sometimes he likes to think he knows you better than you know yourself. He needs to be reminded every so often that you are capable of looking after yourself, and that he doesn't need to solve every little problem on his own without being asked.

V - Vaunt - what are they proud of? do they like to show their partner off?

Aside from his intelligence, his quick wit and his sense of humour, he is most proud of his innate optimism, which (thanks to your help) has remained in tact despite all the tragedies and hardships he's endured in his comparatively short life. But more than that, he's proud to have you by his side: the embodiment of goodness and love that he never believed he deserved.

His egotistical side enjoys showing you off — you are, after all, the most attractive person he's ever seen, and having you by his side gives his confidence a little boost — but he can become a bit possessive or jealous if he's feeling insecure.

W - Whole - would they feel incomplete without their partner?

Abandonment issues and childhood trauma means Sebastian holds his loved ones very, very dear to his heart. Without you, he'd still be the driven, intelligent and ambitious Sallow he was born to be, but he'd likely lose the motivation to reach his full potential. Having lost every important person in his life, his desire to better himself after all his past mistakes is soley inspired by you.

X - XOXO - are they affectionate?

Physical affection is both how he expresses love and how he feels love; physical touch grounds him in reality and reminds him that you are safe and near. Smooth back his hair, tenderly touch his face, or play with his fingers and watch how fast he melts.

Y - Yearning - how well do they cope when they’re separated from their partner?

Since you are his home, he feels incomplete and off-kilter when he's away from you. And though he tries to honour your individuality, if you're apart for too long, he'll start to have intrusive thoughts about every bad thing that might happen if he's not there to protect you. Needless to say, when you are finally reunited, he greets as you if several decades have kept you apart — like a big, needy puppy.

Z - Zzz - what are some sleeping habits of theirs?

This boys sleeping habits are a nightmare, precisely because he has a lot of them. In fact, he actively avoids sleep, preferring to stay up reading or researching until he's tired enough to fall into an immediate slumber. Usually, you'll find him slumped over on a table or still snoring on the couch, still fully clothed, but if you do happen to get him into bed, he can't sleep without some part of his body touching yours.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow fluff alphabet #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy sebastian

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whiskeyghoul · 6 days

Text

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!reader] Pt.3

Read pt1 here, read pt2 here

A/N: Hello hello, we are finally to the unofficial first date hehe. This is a bit of a longer one because somehow I kept on writing. So once again this is not proofread. I don’t know yet how many parts this story is going to be, because I just want to continue this for as long as I can. I have some ideas for some more future angst that I want to start setting up to keep it interesting. Anyways, enjoy the read. If you do please like, reblog or comment. If you want to be added to my tag list let me know.

WC:2,5K

Tags: Fluff, sweet fluff, two idiots in love, goth!reader, alt!reader, coffee date, but is it really a date, both are flustered messes.

Warnings: Discussions of murder. Nothing worse than in criminal minds itself.

Spencer POV

Spencer stood in front of the lab door again. Hearing the music pour from the cracks, Siouxsie and the banshees again. A familiar situation. Only this time he felt even more nervous than he had before. There was a cup holder in his left hand, the two steaming beverages balanced equally. The smell of cinnamon and coffee filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath. Trying to calm down his racing heart. It had been 4 days since he first called you. 4 Days of wanting to get back to Quantico as quickly as possible so he could bring you the coffee you wanted. He called you every day, short calls at the end of the day right before he’d go to bed. He felt giddy when talking to you, and would go to sleep thinking of when he’d get back. He finally returned late last night, the office was already empty and there was no sign of you to be seen. So he had gone home, planning to get out and get coffee early in the morning. That left him here, in front of your lab.

As Spencer stood, staring at your name plaque next to the frosted glass door, he felt like he might be going too fast. Coming on too strong perhaps. He didn’t have time to worry about it though when the door in front of him opened. The music turned louder as you came into view. Beaming at him, “Were you planning to come in, or what?” Your voice sounded so melodic to him. Sweet, warm, and slightly teasing. “You saw me?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s frosted glass, I knew there was someone waiting. From the height I suspected it was you.” You answered with a shrug. Spencer did notice the slight pink tinge that dusted your cheeks at those words. The way you avoided eye contact for a moment. You were embarrassed. If only just a little. “I got your coffee.” He held out the holder with the two cups, watching you perk up at the sight of the coffee. “Come in, we can sit together.” You answered him, taking the coffee cup marked with cinnamon. Spencer smiled, he quickly fixed his hair when you turned around, following into the lab. You still wore an almost completely black outfit, this time a skirt that hit just above your knee, large black platform boots made you taller than before. He had noticed this time you wore a ripped shirt, still with a logo on the front that he did not recognise.

The music was turned down to a mild background noise. Spencer watched you place the little remote on the desk before you sat on the wooden surface. Turning the chair like an invitation for him to sit. His eyes wandered to your legs, the skirt riding up slightly exposing more of those gorgeous thighs. He quickly placed his bag on the ground, before he took his seat forcing his eyes to your face. He didn’t want to feel like a pervert staring at your thighs. The position causes Spencer to have to look slightly up at you, in turn you smiled at him after taking a sip of your drink. He turned slightly side to side in the swivel chair, a nervous energy overtaking him. His knee bumping into your leg softly. He usually was so full of words, but in your presence he was once again speechless. “How was the case?” You spoke up first, breaking the relative silence that had been over taking. Spencer's eyes wandered to his hands in his lap, where he held the cup a little awkwardly.

“Oh, it was a bit more difficult than expected.” He tried to find his voice, still feeling a little tongue tied around you. “There was a group of male bodies found in more of a ritualistic setting in a warehouse. Laid out with their heads towards each other in a cross like fashion, all dressed in white, and with myrrh found on their hands. At first we thought of ritual killings, after learning they were all members of the parish it seemed most likely…” When Spencer looked up and saw you were watching him with undivided attention he was surprised. Normally when he rambled people were either bored or cut him off quickly because it was an inconvenience to them. Yet it seemed to him you weren’t inconvenienced at all. He stopped, feeling his heartbeat pick up again.

“But it wasn’t a ritual killing? Was it made to look like one then?” You asked him. Your interest in the story was clear to him. You were leaning slightly closer, towards him, the smell of cinnamon mingling with your perfume was a little distracting to him. “It was but not really intentionally I suppose.” He continued to explain the case. He had managed to find his voice, describing what happened, how they managed to track down the unsub, and how the killing was done by a former church member who wanted to expose the victims for their wrong doings. When you would interject with questions he had time to sip his coffee. Slowly but surely the cup grew colder, the coffee becoming less likable with each sip but he didn’t seem to mind as much. So he moved closer to the desk, in turn slotting his knees around your right calf, before placing the coffee cup on the desk. He preferred this, being close to you. Enjoyed the way you were listening to him and showing interest.

“What was it like here?” Spencer asked after he answered your last question about the myrrh, changing the subject to you. He wanted to know how you spent your time, wanted to know what you liked. The idea of learning more about your hobbies and interests had taken up residence in his head. The entire time he had been away there was just this difficulty focussing on the case. Hotch had even called him out on his lack of focus, remarking that he had been unfocused and to get some shut eye if he had a difficulty due to lack of sleep. Instead he had gone back and picked up his phone to look at your number. Debating to call, scared you wouldn’t pick up. When you did hang up the first time he felt a little defeated, his heart was beating out of his chest. However, still feeling like he needed to try again, he hit the call button again. When you did pick up that time, and your voice rang out through the speaker on his phone, relief washed over him. Starting to ramble on as he tried to find the right words to explain how he felt. His heartbeat was still a mess, his head an even worse one. That was until you had explained you had given him his number because you wanted him to call. Suddenly, he could think again.

“Oh, it was fine. When you called I was over at Pen’s place, maybe she told you about it. Other than that it was pretty normal. Currently I am still working on some tests on the stomach contents of a presumed poison victim. I did get something interesting. Do you want to see?” Your smile was infectious as you placed a now empty coffee cup next to Spencer’s discarded one. Spencer watched enamored at your shift, the excitement washing over you showing just how special this thing was. That apparently it had made your week. "Of course." He answered, delighting in getting to know just a little of what you enjoyed. Spencer watched as you hopped off the desk, suddenly standing so close to him. He really looked up at you, taking a deep breath to take in that intoxicating perfume. You were practically straddling one of his legs as you stood there. He was scared to move, just in case he touched something he wasn't supposed to. His heart beating out of his chest, he could swear he could feel the heat from your skin through the fabric of his pants.

The moment was short lived when you moved a step back and around. Making your way to one of the many cabinets that lined the wall. Some with warning stickers only alluding to the dangers of the content. The one you walked to didn't have any of those labels on them, it was lower than most other cabinets picking up what looked like a frame. He watched you, the way your hips swayed did something to him. Spencer averted his eyes before he got off of the chair, walking over towards you. “It came in yesterday after you called. Maybe you find it a little weird so don't freak okay.” You looked back over your shoulder. Spencer's heart skipped a little, for some reason when you looked over your shoulder the light hit just right, making you glow. All he could think about was wanting to be close to you then. How wonderful you looked. More importantly, how soft your lips looked.

“I won't, I have seen a lot of weird things.” Spencer promised. Taking a few steps closer so he was a foot or 2 away from you. His face was still feeling warm as the urge to be close continued to brew. “You probably have.” you turned to face him as you spoke, still holding the box with the glass facing your body. “So, my favorite books of all time are the Hannibal books. I know… predictable. But they are wonderful books.” you turned the box and Spencer was faced with a beautiful death’s head hawk moth, pinned up against a dark blue background. He smiled a little, having you excited over a moth that was on the cover of your favorite book. He had to file that away for later. “I saw someone sell it online, and just had to have it.” You sounded a little embarrassed. He could see the small flush return to your cheeks. “It's a beautiful specimen.” He answered, “Did you know they squeak when distressed?” He added, unable to stop himself from fact sharing. “I do now.” The smile you wore made him want to lean in, want to kiss you. It was overwhelming. So he bit his lip, not wanting to do something to scare you away. This was new.

You turned away from him, placing the pinned moth back on the small cabinet. Spencer took a step even closer without even thinking. When you turned around you looked surprised, head tilting up to look him in the eyes. He took note of the little breath you took in, how your eyes lingered on his face as your surprise faded away. Just like you had done that first meeting. The mood shifted from nervous excitement to something more intimate. “Spencer?” The way you said his name made his mind go stupid, he could listen to you saying his name over and over again for all eternity. “Yeah?” He said it softly, not sure if you really wanted an answer, or if he even had the brain capacity to answer you coherently. “You’re staring.” The tease in your tone was clear as day. Yet you spoke so softly, with your cheeks dusted in pink. “So are you.” He whispered back. His heart was beating out of his chest. "Touche." You whispered back. With how close you were, the mingle of cinnamon and cherry was too much. He couldn’t think any more. His hand was itching to reach up, to cup your cheeks as he would kiss you.

Spencer’s mind wandered with the idea of how your lips would taste. Obviously the cinnamon would be there, but what else. He wanted to find out. Wanted to kiss you until the coffee was gone and he could just taste you. How his hands would course through your soft hair, or hold your head as he kissed you. Then again he wanted his hands to hold your thighs, the ones which were so enticing to him. The feeling of your soft skin under his fingers, the idea made his mouth water. So, he gently moved his hand up, his fingertips gently caressing your cheek. Your skin was as soft as he expected, maybe even slightly more so. You were warm, flushed and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Wanting to drink up every little reaction, every movement and intake of breath. “Spencer.” You breathed his name. Another eruption of butterflies in his stomach. “Is this okay?” he asked, tucking a small piece of hair behind your ear. It was as smooth as he envisioned.

You nodded your head, eyes still transfixed on his face. It was cute, Spencer thought, the way you were suddenly the one at a loss for words. How both of you seemed to be so affected by each other. He moved his hand again, placing it where your jaw met your neck, he could feel your heartbeat racing under your skin. A smile tugged at his lips. He was about to lean in, to press his lips softly to yours, unable to resist the urge, when suddenly an alarm rang throughout the lab. Pulling him from the intimate moment. A little resentful of the equipment interrupting him. He watched you close your eyes and breathe out through your nose almost with a sigh. “I have to get that. If I don’t I might not get accurate readings on the toxicology.” You looked a little disappointed. Spencer felt just a little pleased at that. “I understand, my team is probably wondering where I am too.” He responded, taking a step back and allowing you space. He was surprised when you placed your hands on his shoulders, “lean down a little.” He did as you asked, leaning down until his face was almost level with yours. You tipped up onto your toes, the platforms making you at eye level with him.

You smiled, quickly planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He felt his cheeks flush as his brain went blank as his senses just filled with you. “There, that will have to do for now.” You spoke as you pulled away. Spencer was wide eyed but he felt his lips curve into a dopey smile. “It will, for now.” He answered. “You better wash that off before you go back to the bullpen.” You were referencing the lipstick stain on his cheek most likely. “I might want to keep it.” He knew that Derek would tease him for it. It would be a reminder of you though. Of your lips on his skin. “Hmm, don’t blame me for the relentless teasing you will undergo if you do.” You grinned before turning to head to the beeping machine. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer said and you looked back over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” You called back before getting to work on the tox screen.

Before Spencer returned to the bullpen he made a quick stop at the mens restroom, taking out his small phone and snapping a picture of your lipstick mark on his cheek. A reminder for later. Before he washed it off with reluctance. He was already looking forward to tomorrow.

Tag list: @depressedbutartsy @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #tumblr writer #dr spencer reid #alt reader #goth reader #first date #part 3 #she blinded me with science

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