#I realize now... That I can kill for that smile

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 24] The Truth

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“What are you going to do with him again?” Satoru asks as you get ready to meet up with Suguru. He talks as if he has any right to know. You’re finishing up your makeup in your room while he stands in the doorway.

“Does it concern you?” You look back at him. And he sighs before shaking his head. He guesses it doesn’t. He can’t argue with you about it, yet he stands there, leaning on the doorframe. You finish putting on your lipstick before looking back at him and raising your eyebrows, “Aren’t you going to Ren? He’s waiting for you to talk about his birthday plans.”

“Right…” Satoru answers, turning around and going to Ren. He finally leaves you alone with your thoughts, finally not having to listen to his stupid comments. As much as you don’t enjoy his presence at the moment, you still have to tolerate him because of your son.

Slowly you are seeing his point of view, but that doesn’t mean you forgive him. Satoru was young, easy to manipulate– Well, you aren’t exactly focused on his age but more about the fact that Satoru was recently grieving the loss of his father and in a way felt threatened that he would lose everything simply for not following orders. What hurts you the most right now is that he didn’t even try to explain the situation to you, he assumed you were better off going your own separate ways.

“Mommy!” Ren comes running into your room, disrupting the peace that you were just granted. You look at the puppy eyes that adorn his face, and you already know he wants something. You allow him to speak first, not wanting to accuse him of something that he might not even do. But you’re proven right, “Can I get a puppy for my birthday?”

“Remind me how old you’re turning, Ren.” You tell him, and Ren holds up five fingers, a grin on his face as he shows off his big age. You fight back a smile, trying your best to remain as serious as you can possibly be. You won’t be easily convinced by him. “Five. Such a big age, right? But not enough to take care of a puppy, plus you’re starting school soon.”

“School?” Ren asks as if it’s the first time he hears of it. You’ve been preparing for him, telling him about it daily.

“You know, the place where you’ll be going to learn and make friends for the next thirteen or so years of your life.” You answer, and his mouth turns into a circle when he remembers. “Who’s going to take care of the puppy then? I still have to work.”

“Granny.” Ren answers, and you chuckle as you shake your head. Your mother isn’t exactly a big pet person, if you were to give her the responsibility of taking care of a puppy, she might just kill you. He puts his hands together and begs, “Please, mommy, please! I want a puppy!”

“Ren, we both know that–” You begin, but you realize you’re just wasting your breath. You look at the time, realizing that if you don’t finish up soon, you’ll be late. “Talk to your father about it, I have to finish getting ready.”

“Daddy!” Ren yells as he walks out of your bedroom. Maybe you made a mistake since Satoru loves to spoil Ren, and Satoru doesn’t like to think of additional responsibilities since he’s not the one that’s at Ren’s side at all times.

You’ll deal with it when Satoru attempts to get Ren a puppy, for now you’re going to focus on your own problems. Your own problem being your meeting with Suguru.

You wait for Suguru at the café near your apartment. You have a beverage in your hand, taking an occasional sip, making sure you don’t finish it before Suguru finally decides to show up. Your eyes are glued to the door, waiting for him to finally make his grand entrance. 

You feel the nerves creeping through all of a sudden, and you have no idea why. Maybe it’s because you lied to him about Satoru, or maybe it’s because you’ve been avoiding his calls. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, looking at the time. If he doesn’t get here within five minutes, you’ll leave. He’s running late, and you have no intention of waiting for him all day.

In reality, you’re just looking for an excuse to leave. You want to avoid this confrontation as much as you can, but you know you have to face him eventually. Suguru has been one of Satoru’s closest friends, and you were close to dating, the least you can do is give him one last conversation. You can’t avoid him forever.

Your eyes shift back and forth between the time and the door, mentally praying that he doesn’t show up. However, your prayers go unanswered when he walks through the door, his eyes immediately landing on you. He gives you a soft smile as he approaches your table.

“Hi, Suguru.” You try to return his smile, but it looks awkward. Suguru points at the counter, telling you that he’s going to get his beverage before sitting down with you, to which you nod in response. You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He looks fine, and you hate to ruin his day– Perhaps he won’t care, but you doubt it. You told him a very serious lie about his best friend, you doubt he’ll be too happy with you after finding out.

“It’s so nice to see you after… So long.” Suguru sits across from you. You shift in your seat, adjusting your posture before focusing on him. You nod with an awkward smile on your face. At that moment you know, this is going to be a long hour.

“It is.” You agree before a long awkward pause ensues. You clear your throat, about to ask him how he’s been holding up, but Suguru has other plans when he speaks up before you,

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He goes straight to the point. There’s a reason why you two are there, and it isn’t for small talk. Maybe you can get to more fun matters later or another day, but not right now. 

“I’ve just been busy with Satoru and figuring out this whole parent thing, that…” You begin with an excuse but you can’t finish the sentence. You bite down your lip before you take a deep breath. You have to say it, if you keep dragging it you’ll feel worse. “I partially lied to you. Satoru never suggested an abortion at the thought of me being pregnant, I didn’t tell him because he didn’t give me the chance to, and then I couldn’t tell him because… His mother didn’t want him to know.”

And he chuckles. Suguru lets out a laugh, which makes you furrow your brows. You expected many different reactions, but not a laugh. You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiously waiting for him to say something else.

“Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?” Suguru asks, and you hum in response even though it’s not all. He lets out another laugh, and you want to ask why he laughs but you decide against it. You wait for him to finally say something else, although time feels as if it slows down. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You sound utterly confused. What the hell is he talking about? How would Suguru know?

“I knew. I asked Satoru what he would’ve done if you had gotten pregnant and he said he would’ve stayed by your side.” He answers, and you let out a sigh of relief knowing that the situation won’t be the big mess that you were expecting. You do still feel guilty about it. “I mean sure… Satoru could’ve lied to me, but I don’t think he would have.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it?” You’re curious as to why he decided to remain silent about this of all things. It’s a serious matter, which you would’ve expected him to furiously call you to berate you about. But you guess the man that sits across from you isn’t that type of person.

“You lied to me to protect your ass, and I can’t really blame you for it.” He shrugs, and he could’ve left it at that and it would’ve ended up perfectly fine. The conversation could’ve ended there and you would switch the topic and talk about more lighthearted stuff. But Suguru makes sure to add, “Plus Satoru also lied to you so you’re even, I guess.”

“Do you know?” You question, wondering why he brings up the fact that Satoru lied to you as well. You watch his cheeks turn pink when he realizes his words.

“Know what?” He stutters, which says all you need to know. He knows. For how long has he known? He realizes immediately that he’s messed up. He gave himself away.

“For how long have you known?” You immediately ask, and Suguru tries to play dumb, he claims he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, making a fool of himself. You’re clearly mad, but you try to not let it show through your tone. You try to take deep breaths.

“You can say we’re kind of even…” Suguru scratches the back of his head, but that’s not enough. You’re not even because the situation with Ren had nothing to do with him, at least in your eyes. Yes, you lied to him, but it was your business, something that had nothing to do with him.

“Does Shoko know too?” You scoff, and it’s merely a joke, but Suguru bites down his lip before commenting,

“I mean, considering the fact that she’s sleeping with his wife, probably.” Which makes your eyes widen. It’s shocking, but it makes a lot of sense. You’re still speechless. “Satoru told me… A while ago.”

“I guess we’re even then.” You let out a chuckle, but it’s not humorous. You’re clearly… Annoyed. “But I think… I had different plans for us, and so did you. But we should remain as friends.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, confused why you say that. He knows you’re mad, but what you’re making is a rash decision. “You don’t mean what you’re saying, you’re just upset because–”

“No, I know what I’m saying. Suguru, I lied to you so I guess I shouldn’t be too mad but I am. And I lied to you about Satoru, and… We shouldn’t be together, I feel like we started this off wrong.” You respond, and it almost hurts to say. 

“But we can start over again without lies and–” He begins, and you cut him off.

“Let’s try to give it some time before even thinking about that. I’m not really in the right headspace for a relationship.” You answer truthfully, and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t know why, but that ticks him off.

“I bet you’ll end up choosing Satoru again.” He sounds bitter, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he says that, he assumes you’re so in love with Satoru that you can’t have a relationship with him. Suguru thinks too mighty of himself. “Explains why you so adamantly ignored my calls, and why you were on vacation with him–”

“I have a son with him, Suguru. Of course I’m going to do shit with him.” You interrupt him, standing up from your seat. He has his arms crossed, looking almost like a pouty child because he isn’t getting his way. He almost reminds you of Satoru. “I told you we should give it time before we even begin to think about it. Don’t make your case worse.”

He keeps silent while you walk away, deciding that you’re right. He isn’t going to make his case worse. 

“How did it go?” Satoru seems as if he has been waiting by the door for you the entire time. 

“He knew?” You immediately ask, and he nods in response which makes you roll your eyes. “Everyone knows shit except me.”

“I can say the same about Ren.” Satoru argues, which is a great point, but you won’t admit it. You hand him your purse, as if he were your own little butler, and he proceeds to take it to your room.

“Where’s Ren?” You half-yell, and the man shushes you, which earns a weird look from you. There’s no way he actually got Ren to fall asleep… But for what other reason would Satoru shush you?

“He’s asleep.” Satoru informs you when he walks back, and you want to question what kind of sorcery the man is doing to make a boy that hates taking naps, fall asleep. You do appreciate it though, so you won’t complain.

You two awkwardly stand around, not sure what to speak about next since Ren is asleep. There’s something that comes to mind, but you’re not sure how appropriate the question is. Ren is asleep, so there shouldn’t be an issue, however, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries.

You still clear your throat though, “Did you know that Shoko was–”

“I know.” Satoru chuckles. “Right when we got back, Shoko dug her claws into her– Or Sayo did.”

“Were you upset when you found out? I mean, when we first saw each other again you called her love.” You bring up, walking over to the couch to take a seat, and he follows behind. Satoru takes a moment to think, and properly formulate his answer. He sighs before speaking up,

“I guess, for a moment I thought I loved her. I’m very fond of her, and I confused my adoration for her as love. She knew what I was going through, and she was always sweet to me, we could make each other laugh. Overall, we got along.” He explains, and you listen attentively. You’ll do anything to gain a little bit of perspective into his mind. “We just had each other, and that was that. But then you came into my life, and I remembered what love felt like.”

You feel your face get warm, and you look away from him. Maybe Suguru is right– You can’t let him be right. Satoru still committed a lot of bad actions. 

You stay silent and let a minute pass before speaking up again, changing the topic, “It’s not just Ren’s birthday coming up, but also yours. What would you like?”

“I already have everything I could ever want.” Satoru answers, which makes your task slightly more difficult. You’re still going to get him something for his birthday, even if it’s just a pair of socks. “How about Ren? I heard he wants a puppy.”

“He’s not getting one. Nope.” You tell him, and he laughs before nodding in response. You’re not sure he’s gotten the message yet, but you’ll make sure to remind him.

#[changes] #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

[fanfictionismyromanempire]

Elevator problems in Monaco

Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: You get stuck in the elevator with your neighbor and everybody's crush, Charles Leclerc.

Author's Note: In this story, there is no use of "Y/N" there is poorly translated French; only a few words. And contains 413 words.

Masterlist

How often do you need to fantasize about someone before it is considered strange? I mean, it's not every day, but often enough that I consider it to become strange. Luckily, if you can consider it lucky, there are enough people always looking at him. Is it strange to become possessive of your kind of acquaintance-slash-neighbor? I don't think it's strange for me to think about him; after all, he is a Formula 1 driver, and a good one at that. I mean, I can count myself lucky that I even kind of know him when I see him walking his little dog.

Besides seeing him walking around the hall of her complex gives me extra views of his everyday life to fantasize about. But these are thoughts I shouldn't be having, especially not when I am in the elevator with him. Although he doesn't help with how in love he looks with his dog and the look he has right now, like he just came out of bed. And right now he is giving me the look like I am one of his crazy fans who just screamed 'Sign my boobs, Charles Leclerc.'

Tout va bien?! Alright, brain, don't freak out; he just asked you a question in a language you don't understand. Which you should be able to understand if you just didn't keep on skipping your Duolingo French lessons. After all, who lives in Monaco without speaking French? Rich assholes. Shit, you became a rich asshole who doesn't answer people. I try to smile friendly at him; it feels more like a grimace. Je ne parle pas français.

Ding! The sound of my dreams. I try to really smile at him this time while he looks at me like he still wants to say something and run like Usain Bolt right to my apartment. As I close my door, I realize that I have never looked pretty while I run and that he most definitely thinks I am a crazy person. After my freak out, I realize I went outside with a purpose and that I didn't even get off downstairs, but that I ran out of the elevator without it having moved. I am a crazy person. Can I still go back? I mean, I need to get back; otherwise, my friends will kill me. This is not a good enough reason to miss a baby shower, even if he is deadly handsome.

As I gather up the courage to look out my door like a spy, I realize that I have never looked so stupid. But I'm so relieved that I don't see him standing there that I want to scream. I walk over to the lift that is still open. Luckily enough, no one is inside, including my handsome neighbor, as I click on the button to go downstairs. I realize the lift is not moving, so I click another time, and another time. The lift is broken he says. I shriek and turn around while he smiles and giggles. I try to smile all the while, attempting not to freak out about the fact that I just shrieked at my crush and try to formulate a response.

"Seriously?!" He laughs again. "Yes, I just called maintenance, but I think today will be a stairs day, Mon cheri."

Now, you wouldn't think that would be a problem until you realize that we live on the 20th floor. "Wait, Mon cheri?" What does Mon cheri mean? He smirks this time and says, "How about I take you out for dinner when you figure out what it means? That way, you don't have to stare or run away from me anymore."

Somebody sedate me, 'Is Charles Leclerc flirting with me ?' 'I think I know what it means,' I say, trying to sound confident. 'Really?' he says with a cocky smirk. 'I didn't think you knew French with what you just said in the elevator. Or are you a liar, neighbor?' I scoff while he laughs with that stupid cute smirk, and I realize he is challenging me and I don't have a master plan. I mean, I don't speak French. He is looking at me expectantly, and I think, 'Fuck it.' I walk over to him and kiss him.

The next thing I know, I wake up to the sound of ticking on the floor and an arm around my middle. I sit up fast and look around my room until I notice the ticking was coming from the most adorable-looking dog I have ever seen. But then, I remember this dog, and most definitely the red gloves that lay in the room. As I panic, I quickly look to the side. The arm around my middle moves, and Charles sits up and says, 'Good morning, mon cheri.' I exhale and reply, 'Good morning,' with a smile, then lay back down and grab my phone, only to realize that I messed up greatly and missed the baby shower.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1

[moneymartin]

・❥・- one more?

summary: kate comes home tired and needy :( part two to this fic. build up drabble to part three

warnings: none! fluff cause its kate :3 this is kinda shorter than the last one soz. again, every divider is a skip. most are constant cuz im lazy. didn’t know how to end oops!!!

rpf dont read it if ur uncomfy thx

a/n: all yjs reqs r still itw soooo they’ll be out soon poopies 🙄 also my single part drabble for kate is lowk marinating in my drafts and i don’t have the motivation to finish it…

its been 5 months since you and kate finally ended up together. pretty long, right? but you two never really got the hang of this thing, especially after remembering how long those feelings between you two had been brewing up for. it was still hard for you to show up to her games and practice due to soccer season, and the second it ended, you showed up to nearly every single one of them.

“i really can’t come this time, baby, i told you!” you grumble while kate drags you across the dorm. they had their practice game at carver today but you couldn’t make it, which made kate upset. “dilanni is gonna kill me if i don’t show up.” your soccer team needed to show up together for this fundraiser, and it was during the offseason. fucking lame. you hated letting her down all the time but some things like this just needed to be done.

kate’s fingers grip at your sweater sleeve, her eyes soft, and lips slightly pouting. “can you please just say you feel sick!? you’ll finish quicker than i will and it’s not like they won’t let you in.” she begs and tugs a little at it. her height makes you a little overwhelmed but she’s slightly bent at the knees and trying to make herself seem smaller than she really is. “kate, its just practice. its not like its the final fours yet.” you sigh and make her stand up straight. your eyes dart to hers and you bring your hands up to cup her face. the way she leans into your touch makes your face flush up like never before.

“yeah, but you always show out! i know we’re still trying to keep this on the down low still but i love pointing at you in the crowd before i make a shot during our practices.” she complains, trying to pull her head away from your hands but you keep her in place like a vice. your thumb brushes up against her face and she sighs under her breath. all those shots that she makes have all been for you ever since. and you didn’t even know that. everything she did on the court was meant for you. “i’ll make a deal with you, okay?” your words make her feel a little bit better and she nods ecstatically.

“when you get back we can do whateverrrr you want to make you feel better about me not showing up. does that sound good?” you propose, the idea crossing your mind after you realize that she just wants to spend that time with you while her teammates try to piece together this big puzzle. none of them know other than caitlin, and they’re completely unaware of you and kate’s relationship. “yes! okay, deal! deal deal deal…!” she blurts out and smiles stupidly, leaning her head towards you again as a sign that she wants a kiss.

you give it and let go of her face, wrapping your arms around her waist quickly and pressing another big kiss to her cheek. “don’t work yourself too hard out there.” you breathe out and pat her back before letting go of it. “this fundraiser should only be an hour, trust me.” kate just shrugs and smiles again, less big but you still know that she’s pretty happy at your little proposition for when she gets back. the moment you walk out of that door, her face drops and she rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. she’s alone now, and doesn’t know what to do. you’ve been with her for every game and every practice so she’s lost most of her motivation to go. “aw, dang it..”

after your little fundraiser, you come home exhausted and dreary when you realize kate is gone too. you two are exactly the same person, lost without one another. it’s cute but sometimes it’s hard. this whole relationship thing is such a different concept and it makes your head hurt. the lock clicks on the door and you dig through your closet, finding a pair of pjs and some small shirt kate likes seeing you wear for ‘some reason’. which is what she says every time you ask.

a quick change and your casual clothes scatter across the floor before you basically face plant into the pillows. a warm feeling fills up your body while you fall asleep, a feeling that seems different still without kate. you two always sleep and take naps together so this is another thing you have to get yourself used to.

the stupid fundraiser ran longer than it should have. at least another 30-45 minutes extra and you weren’t very prepared for it. kids were all over the place too and you were somewhat on babysitting duty? according to your teammates. you stood with all the kids for at least an hour and the questions they asked you were probably the stupidest things ever.

the sound of the door opening is what wakes you up, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes and sitting up. you’re met with the sight of kate rummaging sluggishly through her backpack and taking out clothes. she mumbles out a small ‘hi’ and yawns, walking into the bathroom. the sound of the shower hits your ears and you just lay back down, trying to keep yourself awake to fulfill that proposal you made earlier.

a few moments after the shower turns off, the bathroom door opens and your mattress shifts in weight, a few drops of water coaxing you to open up your eyes. kate is sitting on the edge of the bed and she tucks herself in, burying her face into your neck. “how was practice?” you mutter, moving her wet strands of hair to sprawl out on the bed. she grumbles into your neck instead of instantly responding. “tiring, huh?” you ask.

“extremely.” she whispers breathily and looks up at you. kate’s eyes are slightly droopy and her lips are pursed. your arm wraps itself around her back and you tilt her head up with your hand, making her look up at you as you start rubbing her temples gently. kate’s eyes are opening and closing continuously while your fingers continue to massage her head and she huffs heavily a few times.

you push kate’s head into your neck again and slide your hands onto her shoulders, patting them gently to make her fall asleep easier. she doesn’t though. instead, she hoists her head up and quickly locks her lips with yours, grabbing your waist and holding herself up with her arms. her fingers are gripping at the bedsheets tight and she’s kissing you a little bit too hard. not that you mind, of course. “mmmf.. hey?” you pant and pull away from the kiss, making eye contact with kate and realizing where she’s placed her hands.

“i’m just kissing you.” kate mumbles and doesn’t even bother waiting for you to finish catching your breath. she kisses you again, propping herself up on her elbows and grabbing your arms to wrap around her waist. “y- yeah! but like… let me get a breather at least.” you laugh quietly. you’re still trying to catch your breath and the more you try to get away, the more persistent she becomes. “c’mon. you’re just sleepy, baby. get your butt to bed and you’ll be alllll good in the morning.” you smile and push her shoulders down.

kate ends up falling onto your body and her nose brushes up against your cheek, her lips running up and down your neck as she starts kissing all over it. “one more..” she rasps out and slides her hands underneath your shirt. she starts to claw your back a few times, whining into your neck when you try to push her away. “kate, please.” you grunt and pull back, nearly falling off of the edge of the bed.

her face is the same one as earlier. her big, pretty blue eyes going soft and her lips pouting. she looks like a sad puppy and you hate it. you hate how you can’t say no to it. “just one more! this is the last one and i’ll sleep, i swear.” kate spits out and tilts her head to the side. she yawns, her eyes getting watery and now you know that it’s basically over for you. “i can’t.” you mutter. “yes, you can. it’s just one more kiss, babe. please?!”

“all you have to do is give me one, and i’ll sleep!”

“you say this all the time! you’re gonna say that you’ll ‘sleep after’ but the second my lips land on yours, you’re gonna act like an animal.”

“that’s not true.”

“oh, yeah? watch.”

you cup her cheeks and she grabs your waist gently, your lips going in for one quick one. when she feels how warm you are and how much you’re trying to really prove a point, she just helps your claim anyways. kate’s lips are against yours again, kissing hungrily.

i mean, she’s practically eating away at your face.

#um this is so bad. #bye #kate martin x reader #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #that pic of her is so cute

[triassictriserratops]

I think if peeta even got a sniffle Katniss would go fucking feral, drop everything and take care of him (and get sick herself)

ABSOLUTELY SHE WOULD. She'd call her mom like, "he's dying, what do I do?" Peeta's in the background like, "Hi Mrs. Everdeen, I just have seasonal allergies, I took some Zyrtec, everything is fine! "YOU'RE DYING, SHUT UP AND GO TO BED BEFORE I KILL YOU." BUT NOW Now, Anon? Now i get to talk about what I think happens when KATNISS gets sick. And spoiler alert, it's GREAT. The first time Katniss gets sick after the war, she doesn't tell anyone. She just locks herself in her house, puts a note on the door saying that she's fine and to come back tomorrow hoping that Sae sees it and doesn't bother with cooking anything for her. She grabs some remedies, a box of plain crackers, a blanket, some water, and trudges her way upstairs back to bed. A few hours later she hears a loud crash in the kitchen. She waddles and sniffles her way downstairs to the sight of a cursing Peeta, sprawled on the kitchen floor, while his prosthetic is dangling from the open window above the sink. "What are you doing?" she says in a congested voice, "I left a note on the door." She moves over to the window to unlatch his prosthesis from where it got snagged on the windowsill. "This," he says, brandishing the crumpled paper in the air, "is NOT enough of an explanation. People were worried. Haymitch was worried..." He glances away at that. "Haymitch? Bullshit." she snorts as she bends down to reattach his leg. She stays down when she's done realizing that she's feeling a little unsteady on her feet. "Fine. FINE! I was worried. What's going on? Did I do something wrong?" "No! Of course not. It-it's fine. I'm fine. I'm just sick. Thanks for stopping by. I'll see you tomorr-." She's struggling to get back up when she feels the air whoosh around her and realizes that Peeta has picked her up to carry her over to the couch. "Sick? What's wrong? Have you taken anything? Let me make you some tea, or do you want soup? I can make soup." he's rambling as he presses the back of his hand to her clammy forehead. "I really am okay. I got this. I'll be fine, Peeta." she says, pushing his hand away from her face and regretting it immediately at the loss of contact. "Katniss. Please let me do this, okay? This is what you and I do, right? That's what you said. Now, tell me where you keep your bouillon. I'm making some chicken stock and a good soup for you." That's when it hits Katniss. She hasn't really been taken care of like this in years. Maybe since she was 11. For years now, her mother would do her best to take care of her during the occassional cold, of course. But for the most part Katniss struggled to accept any softness or warmth from her mother. Feeling caught between that desire to be held and comforted and the anger she still felt towards her - they instead both settled for the distant, clinical detachment her mother had with her other patients. But, really, the last nearly 7 years of her life have been dedicated to the care of her family and her loved ones. She learned to stop asking for things and began instead to meet all of her own needs, without relying on others. After the games she'd begun the process of extending that branch and allowing herself to lean on her mother a little more. But now? Now her mother isn't here. And here she was right back to what she knew. Taking care of herself. Looking up at Peeta, blue eyes shining in earnest. Ready to do and be anything that is needed of him. Anything that SHE needs of him. She wipes her nose on her sleeve and smiles. "Pantry. Top shelf. On the right. Thank you, Peeta."

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #hunger games headcanon #thg headcanons #thg #thg series #the hunger games #thg fic #thg fanfiction #love is a verb #hunger games sick day

[spacebarbarianweird]

Could you please write more about pregnant Tiriel? Your writing about her finding out she's expecting and about Astarion hearing the baby's heartbeat were one of my favorites?

Synopsis: Astarion takes care of pregnant Tiriel.

Tags: dadstarion, pregnancy, fluff

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

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Headcanons

Waiting

“I think I am going to die in childbirth,” Tiriel says, pressing her face to her knees.

Astarion would sigh if he could. Tiriel sits shoulder-deep in a bath of warm water, as the vampire washes her hair and rubs her back.

“You aren’t going to die. You are a half-elf and I am sure the child is rather small. Look at your belly, you are in your last month and it’s not really showing.”

Tiriel turns away. Well, to call her belly small would be an underestimation – her slim body is currently betraying pregnancy. It’s covered in stretch marks that won’t disappear, ever. But again, Astarion has seen many pregnant human women in Daggerlake within the last five years and Tiriel has definitely been spared, carrying someone who takes after their elven ancestors.

But once Astarion thinks he’s managed to cheer her up, Tiriel sniffs.

“What if something is wrong with the baby? You are a vampire! I love you and all that, but you are still undead! What am I even carrying inside? And what if the child is sick? Or deformed? Or…What if it is going to kill me?”

“I can promise you, if something goes wrong, we are saving you,” Astarion splashes water on her hair.

“Thank you.”

He kisses her shoulder. “Don’t worry that much, the last thing you need is to cause a complication.”

Tiriel touches his fingers. 

Astarion adds more soap to the tub. The scent of vomit and sweat still lingers on Tiriel’s skin and Astarion takes a clean piece of rug.

Tiriel has been feeling so bad in the last few days she barely left her bed. Her legs hurt, she couldn’t eat without vomiting, and she hardly slept because of back pains. She finally made herself go out that evening to eat properly, but, the moment Tiriel finished her dinner, she felt nauseous and everything Astarion had cooked for her ended up on her home shirt.

That moment, Astarion had enough of that and carried Tiriel to the bath. 

“I'm sorry,” she says.

“What for?”

“I look disgusting.”

“Nothing is disgusting about a pregnant woman,” Astarion says, rubbing her left ear. “Besides, I’ve seen and done much worse things than giving a bath to someone I’ve knocked up. Your condition is my fault and I am taking full responsibility! Now, let me wash your front.”

Tiriel presses her back against the tub allowing Astarion to get to her belly and legs. Astarion smiles seeing the visible bump and carefully rubs the skin.

He is so close he can hear the second heartbeat. 

It is not clear to him when the child is going to be born. Elves are pregnant for two years, but Tiriel’s body is hardly capable of doing so. Humans need nine months for the same process, but Astarion has learned from the healers in Secomber, the closest big town to Daggerlake, that it’s never clear with half-elves. And it also depends on the child – Astarion tries to think about the baby as an elf with just a bit of human ancestry (still enough to fuck up the gentle elven biology).

But in reality…

The child is half-him, half a vampire anyway. And that should bother him.

He is afraid of that moment. He waits for that moment to come. And he also misses Tiriel in sensual terms. He wants her blood (which is out of reach for him till she stops breastfeeding), he wants her body (they haven’t had sex ever since she got pregnant). 

And he wants her to stop being in such pain daily.

“I look ugly,” Tiriel chuckles. “Don’t try to say it’s not true.”

“It's not. You are beautiful!”

Suddenly Tiriel flicks his nose. “My eyes are here.”

Astarion realizes he’s been staring at her swollen breasts and small droplets of white liquid on Tiriel’s nipples.

“Stop all this nonsense, Tiriel!'' Astarion takes her leg and stretches it to wash it better. “I like caring about you. I like how you look. And I absolutely love that it's me who did this to you. It all feeds my vampiric possessiveness, after all!”

“And I love that it was you who did this to me,” Astarion feels Tiriel’s fingers on his cheek.

“Now, get out of the water before it gets too cold!” Astarion brings towels. “Is food still out of the question?”

“I want something hot to drink.”

“I will make you herbal tea, then.”

Astarion, after making sure she is dry, carries Tiriel to bed.

He looks outside. What he loves about his house in the underground part of Daggerlake is the big windows. There is no point in hiding from the sun, and Astarion can enjoy going outside whenever he wants. Besides, the biggest part of the town is underground too, and Astarion also doesn’t feel like an outcast.

And his neighbors have seen much worse things than vampires who know the law.

Suddenly Tiriel yelps. He turns to her and notices the night shirt she’s put on is wet. 

But wasn’t Tiriel's skin dry when he took her from the bath?

Tiriel hugs her belly and lets out a cry of pain. 

“Tiriel…” Astarion rushes to her. No, not today. He still needs time to get ready.

Tiriel grabs his shoulder. “Go to the healer… I am.. Gods…”

The child has decided to be born today. ------ You can read what happens next in Little Bundle of Darkness --

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

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@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

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@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

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@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

#bg3 fluff #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #oc tav tyrael #dadstarion #tav oc #astarion x reader #astarion x barbarian tav #astarion fluff #tiriel of the sunset mountains #astarion x tiriel #tiriel the barbarian #oc tav: tiriel #pregnancy

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: E for Edging

Summary: Hell hath no pettiness like a woman ignored.

Notes: ~4k words of pure POR-, Dream in this fic can be summed up as "the light is on but no one is home", reader gives big bratty energy and I love that for her honestly (same)

Warnings: NSFW 18+, Sub!Dream, orgasm denial, edging (duh), unprotected intercourse, p in v, handjob, blowjob, riding, takin' it from da back

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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How busy could a monarch possibly be? 

You sit on the plush couch, quietly seething like the crackling fireplace that accompanies you. It should be your husband who should be accompanying you instead. The book you were supposedly reading has long since become words on a page, the letters merging together and tangling within themselves. You dejectedly shut the book with a bang as you realize you’ve been rereading the same line with no progress for the past hour. 

You understand that Morpheus’ duties are never ending, as endless as his name, but would it really kill him to spend a few hours a day with you? With a sigh, you toss the book onto the ottoman and stand, your bones groaning as they finally move after hours of staying still. A bath wouldn’t sound half bad right now. 

Another sigh of relief leaves you as you enter the bathhouse. The large communal bath of natural spring waters was completely empty. You still take a quick glimpse around before stripping yourself before submerging into the hot water, the sudden change in temperature making your nipples perk. The temperature burns you for a moment, but you soon become acclimated to it. You completely submerge yourself, the natural hum of The Dreaming deafens as you do, and with all of your pent up frustrations, you scream into the water, watching as the air leaves your lips in large, aggressive bubbles that swim to the surface. 

“Anyway,” You say to yourself when you resurface, already feeling much better. 

You move to the side, grabbing at a bar of soap, and begin to lavish it across your skin, feeling the soothing effect glide over your skin. The water was doing wonders on your muscles and the hum that leaves your lips was that of satisfaction. 

“There you are,” Morpheus’ voice echoes in the empty room. 

You turn slowly as you look at him, your body fully submerged in the water, except for anything above your nose. You stay quiet, too vexed with him to say anything of note. Instead, you turn away and continue washing your body. 

“Are you that angry with me?” He continues and you hear the faint rustling of him removing his clothes and him walking into the bath soon after. The still water sloshes around his waist as he continues his path towards you and you soon feel his cooler limbs wrap around your body. 

“Have you missed me?” He murmurs into your neck as he rests his head there. The comfort of your skin against his revitalizes his tired body. 

The grip you had on the soap turns bone-crushing at his question. Have you missed me? You repeat his question in your head in a mocking tone. He surely needs to be punished for leaving you alone for so long. A plan is quick and easy to form in your head and a sly smile crawls on your lips. 

You turn in his arms, the same smile on your lips as you look up at him. 

“Dearly,” You answer back and press your lips to his. The heat of the bathhouse increases the heat that grows at your core. “Let me show you how much, my love.”

The suds of the soap drips down your hand as you continue to lather the bar with your one hand. The other hand is placed commanded on his shoulder to prevent him from running away, as if he would ever do so from your touch. A smile appears on his face as well as your sudsy hand trails down his chest and closer to his nether regions. 

It is of no surprise to you when you already feel his half erection greeting you beneath the waters. Your slippery fingers grasp around the shaft and a broken gasp leaves Dream’s mouth. You meticulously move your hands along his cock as you wickedly watch as he throws his head back in pleasure. His Adam’s apple bobs with each beautiful sound that comes out of his throat and you don’t restrain yourself from wrapping your lips around the protruding piece.

Slowly, your hand increases in pace, gripping his cock tighter as you do so, the water and soap assisting you as your fingers glide across the skin. His moans and groans soon turn breathless and he’s simply breathing hard and desperate against your hand. The sounds echoed across the walls of the bathhouse. 

His hands shoot out of the water as he grabs the back of your neck, looking deeply into your eyes as your hand continues its ministrations. His eyebrows crease as his dick jumps in your hand, mouth open in a silent plea as his orgasm comes closer to its peak. A whisper of your name like a prayer falls from his lips and both of you know he won’t last long. Morpheus closes his eyes in anticipation as his muscles tense below his skin. 

His eyes snap open as your fingers leave him, pushing yourself back away from his body and he’s left standing on wobbly legs. The water ripples from his trembling and close orgasmed body. 

“What-”

“Would you look at the time? I should go to bed now. Good night, Morpheus,” You cut him off with a firm hand. 

His eyes follow you as you walk out of the bath. Eyes lingering on the roundness of your ass cheeks as they pop out further as you climb up the stairs. His feet stay planted in the bath as you wrap yourself in a towel. He stays still even as you leave the room without a second glance at you. He could finish himself off, but he knows it wouldn’t be as good as your hands.

The next day, you catch Morpheus and yourself by surprise as you see him standing along the aisles of the library. Embarrassment floods your system as you vividly remember what transpired the other day. Never had you defied him so easily… and felt so happy to do so.

You peek over the bookshelf you were half hiding behind. Morpheus had an off-glazed look in his eyes. His finger was resting on the spine of a book and he kept it there for a while. If you squint you don’t think he was even breathing. You walk up to him, his gaze still not noticing you. A tap on his shoulder was enough to garner his attention, and he seemed to snap out of his zombie-like state after seeing you. 

“Are you all right, my dear?” You ask in truth. His distracted demeanor is a cause for concern. 

Almost immediately his eyes harden and a frown grows on his face. 

“You,” He growls down at you. “You left me wanting last night, denying me such a thing like that is cruel.”

You huff at his accusation. If denying one orgasm is cruel, what does he call leaving you alone for days on end then? 

“Want me to make it up to you?” You reply coyly and with a smile. Your fingers go to the lapels of his jacket and smooth over them. 

A quizzical brow raises itself at your compromise but his will dejects with a sigh. “How would you do that, dearest?”

“Well, I could…” You trail off as your fingers down his chest, just like the night before. You feel the sturdiness of the chest and how his heartbeat thrums beneath your fingers. He’s so real for the physical manifestation of a concept. “I could do something better than last night?” 

He hums as your fingers ghost over the hem of his jeans, feeling his happy trail and the depth of the lines that lead itself to his cock. You cup at his growing hardness through the rough material and his hands once again go to you, holding you gently on your waist. 

His eyes hold yours as you sink to your knees before him, a smile still evidently on your face. You don’t bother looking away when your fingers pop the button, nor when you pull at the zipper, his breath growing heavier at each tick of the metal. Your fingers tickle gently over the length of him behind the thin cloth of his underwear. 

His hand grabs at the root of your hair as his hips impatiently bucks into your face. With a flat tongue, you press the wet appendage over the tip of him, wetting the cloth underneath as you trace around his frenulum. The smell of his manhood invades your senses as you do so and your eyes roll to the back of your head at his soft moan. 

A little pull is all you need for his cock to spring out of its confinement, hot and heavy and leaking with excited precum. You feel its warmth as your soft lips kiss his tip, taking your hands around his base. You lick at the precum carefully then and his grip strengthens in your hair. 

“You said it would be better. Enough teasing,” He commands and you feel your lips tug into a barely containable smile. 

Without debate you wrap your lips around his tip, suckling at the supple skin. The bookshelf he leans against rattles as his head slams into the wooden material. You take down another inch while your hand continues to work his base. Saliva drips through your lips, creating a trail down a vein as you continue to suckle. 

A guttural groan tells you to go deeper, and you do until you feel him hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes begin to tear slightly at the large intrusion, but you push through for your master plan. You hollow out your throat, taking him down the tight cavern, and relish in the feeling of his thighs flexing under your fingers. 

Your nails dig into his thigh muscles as you bob your head back and forth on his weeping cock, the filthy mixture of saliva and pre-cum rests deliciously on your tongue. Morpheus has started to curse from above you at the warm fit. The Dreaming around you begins to hum louder as you pull back on his cock, sucking as hard as you could with him in your mouth. 

His dick jumps in your mouth, his telltale sign that he is close to his orgasm. That and your name falling from his lips once again. His hand has yet to leave your hair as his hips try to take over by bucking themselves into your mouth each time you try to pull back. His thigh muscles spasm each second that passes and just as he’s about to see the stars, you remove your lips with a satisfying pop. 

Cold air wraps around his cock instead of your warm mouth and he does his best to stop the whine that almost escapes his lips. Morpheus’ breath is ragged above you and his frown returns as he glares down at you. You looked perfect like this to him, on your knees, cheeks flushed, hair messy, and eyes watery. The only thing wrong with the picture was your satisfied grin that spread across your face and that very obvious fact that your mouth isn’t being put to use satisfying him. 

“What do you-”

“Oh my, I think I hear Lucienne coming. I should go, goodbye, Morpheus!” You cheerfully lie as you stand and briskly walk away. 

Lucienne was, of course, nowhere to be seen in the library. Both of them knew she was out gathering the consensus for the new year. Morpheus groans as he presses his palms into his eyes. You were going to be the death of him, even without trying. He’s starting to finally think that you were up to something, that devious smile of yours still flashes across his mind when he closes his eyes. He carefully puts his softening cock back into his pants as he absentmindedly thinks to himself. He doesn’t even remember why he was in the library to begin with. 

Morpheus’ thoughts trail with him throughout the day and even the Dreaming residents notice the forlorn face that he wore. It was said that while he was attending to his duties and upholding the Dreaming, it was almost barely viable. His attitude turned sour and only answered Matthew’s questions with a simple grunt or resounding “no” (not much of a change there if you were to ask the bird). Lucienne was less than amused but unable to find you to help fix this issue, she kept quiet and hoped it would pass quickly with time. 

That night, you were back on that couch, the fireplace was going again and the book you were reading was back in your hands. You’re freshly washed and enjoying the soft fabric of your summer’s nightgown as your feet tangle with the soft furs of the rug. This time, you did manage to read a few chapters but after a while, your thoughts went to the faces Morpheus made each time you denied his orgasm and a chuckle shakes through you. Surely this will teach him to never leave you alone for more than a couple days at a time. 

The Dreaming this and The Dreaming that, well, next time he will remember that you too are a part of his world if he should ever want to feel the sweet release of his orgasm again. You’re sure the last two days have been Hell for him, but it was all worth it. That desperate look on his face was like sweet victory trickling down your throat, smooth and refreshing. 

The door to your shared room opens with a bang causing you to drop your book in surprise. You look at Morpheus with wide eyes as you’re completely caught off by his sudden intrusion. Words fail you as he swiftly makes his way to you, standing in front of you with his lips tugging downwards. A scoff leaves you as you realize he’s pouting at you. 

“What ever is the matter, sweet Morpheus?” You tease in an almost condescending, sickly sweet voice. 

“You’re punishing me.” It wasn’t a question. He states it loud and clear. It had taken him all day to decipher your actions. The thought had been chasing him for the past two days, but he was always faster than it, jittering from denied orgasms and responsibilities to accomplish. 

“No!” You gasp with exaggeration. “We were simply interrupted!” 

Morpheus stays silent at your blatant lie, if anything you basically smacked him with a sign that read “yes, obviously, you numb-nut of a lover.” He doesn’t bother to move either, his eyes betraying his pseudo-domineering stance at the moment. 

“Well, good conversation then,” You mutter to yourself as you pick up your book again. You turn to the page you left off on and begin to read again. 

Morpheus’ gaze burned two holes into the top of your head as you read. Not before long, another surprised noise leaves you as he plucks the book from your hands and throws it off into some unknown corner of the room. 

“Lucienne is going to murder you for treating her books like that,” You comment with a cross of your arms. 

“She’ll survive,” He growls down at you. He’s met with your brow raising in turn, in which he finally pieces the last piece together. “Are you acting out because I’ve been neglecting you?”

Dang, he really hit the nail in the head with that one. You turn your head to the side, arms still crossed as you respond. 

“Well, I certainly got your attention this time.”

“I’d say,” He muses. He sits down by your feet, the white fur of the rug in stark contrast to his outfit. The fireplace softens his sharpness with its warm glow as you look at him from above. 

You think the conversation was over then, it seemed like the two of you came to a conclusion. Getting up from the couch, you try to walk over to the corner the book was lying in, but are stopped almost immediately as he holds onto your wrist. 

“How can I make it up to you, my love?” He asks and the pout almost makes it to his lips again. And, well, how can you say no to a face like that? 

You join him on the rug, hands cupping at his face. He leans into your touch, the moment endearing as you look at him. 

“Did we learn anything?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Lay down for me, darling. And let’s get rid of the clothes,” You hum. 

The change is instantaneous as he lays down per your request. The furs caress against your shins as you move to straddle him, picking up the helms of your nightgown in the process. Your arousal starts to drip out of you at the sight before you. Reducing a King to nothing but a needy lover was a sight for fond eyes. It’s the thought of knowing that he could easily overpower you if he so wanted, but relinquishing all his power just so you may touch him? Delicious. 

Your pussy lips slide across the length of him as you get comfortable sitting on his lap. Morpheus’ hands easily find themselves, once again on your waist. How he wished you would strip for him as well, but he doesn’t voice his want in case you decided against touching him tonight. 

Leaning over, you go to kiss him, feeling his soft lips against yours and even you can’t deny your body when it grinds down over his cock. A satisfied hum emits from your throat as his hands wander over the curve of your ass and you leave his lips to give him bruising kisses along his pale skin. You are a painter and he is a canvas where you will show the world how much you loved him. Red blooms across the soft skin, his grip on you tightening. 

His hips thrust upwards with a moan, to which you defiantly sit down harder on him to prevent him from moving anymore. Your name falls from his lips in a hushed whisper, barely audible over the crackling fire. It sends a tug into your core, to hear it in such reverence. With heavy breath, you lean back and watch as his lips try to chase you. 

Morpheus stops himself short when he sees you raising slightly, hand moving between the two of you and firmly grabbing at his cock. You guide himself under you, teasing him a bit more by sliding his tip across the length of your slit. His mouth opens in protest, but before words can come out, you sink yourself onto him. 

Harmonious groans tangled with each other at the feeling. The familiar stretch of him leaves you panting above him. Your warmth was incomparable to your hands or mouth and Morpheus’ nails left small crevices in your thighs. The slight pain grounds you from drifting off into a complete world of pleasure. It takes a few moments for you to start moving your hips, the size of him taking a few moments to adjust to. The first drag of his cock in you leaves you shaking already. It had been too long since you had last felt the touch of his skin against yours. 

With your hands bracing themselves on his chest, you begin your bounces, keeping a rhythm that you like. Morpheus is like putty beneath your fingers, grasping at any part of you that he could in his throes of pleasure. His hair is beyond tussled, his lips dry and parted as noises accompany the slap of your thighs against his. 

Each bounce makes his tip kiss against your cervix, your walls fluttering around him in a vice like grip at how well you took him. It was familiar but exciting each time you took him again and again. The smell of sex accompanies the smell of burning wood on the floor as your thighs shake in exhaustion. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You whine out as you realize your rhythm starts to slow down. 

You settle to grind on him instead, loving the way the new maneuver has his tip rubbing against the spongy spot in you. You gasp with your head thrown back as you’re about to reach your peak. 

Morpheus stares at you in awe, sweat highlights your skin in the lowlight and your breasts bounce with each grind you push down onto him. Your hands brace themselves on his thighs as you feel your orgasm impeding slowly into your system. Just a few more like this and you would be done for and Morpheus would soon follow. 

Another mischievous idea pops into your head through the haze of pleasure. With the remainder of your strength, you rise, letting his cock slip out of you. Morpheus whines this time, unable to hold it back as his hands grip your waist trying to pull you back onto him, to let you ride him into oblivion. 

You feel his heat as you hover over his cock, panting into his neck. You may have denied your own orgasm, but seeing his teary and begging eyes was exactly what you wanted. His chest heaves with annoyance as a familiar frown makes its way onto his face. 

“What do you think you are doing? I am going to kill you,” He accuses beneath you. The insult leaves his mouth but both of you know he would never follow through with it. 

“I think… ha…” You’re still panting, cardio has never been your strong suit. “I think I’m too tired. I should turn in for the night, my love.” 

“Surely you are joking,” He laughs void of any actual amusement. 

“No, no, I’m just sooo tired. Yeah.” You fake a yawn as you unstraddle his waist. 

His eyes trail you as you stand on wobbly legs, using the couch as a crutch as a halfway point to your shared bed. 

“Absolutely not,” He comments as his hand brings you down again having you kneeling before the couch.

He’s quick to appear behind you, running his fingers down your spine to rest on your hip. The sensation leaves you weak and limp, bracing on the seat of the couch and resting your head on your arms. A kiss to the center of your shoulder blades is the only warning he gives before he inserts himself into you again. 

Morpheus doesn’t wait as he picks up a brutal pace, each thrust he gives you communicating his frustrations. The legs of the furniture scratch the floor beneath it as it rocks with your body. You’re left, once again, panting in pleasure at the drag of his cock within your walls. 

His grip on your hip is enough to bruise, to remind you of your passionate night the day after. His other hand snakes in front of your neck, pushing your face upwards, scattering your broken moans into the air. 

The orgasm you denied yourself comes back with full force, your eyes shutting as you feel it searing through you. With help from Morpheus, as he thrusts forward into you, your lower lips clamp down onto him, releasing your cum over the front of his highs in a satisfying orgasm. Your back bows forward at the release and you’re left panting into the cushions. 

“Let me cum,” He weakly commands as he feels your slick coating him.

“Please, yes! Cum,” You moan, riding through your orgasm as he continues pumping into you. 

He bites down on your shoulder, his groan muffled between your skin as he climaxes into you. His cock twitches in you as he cum releases into the deepest part of your being. You feel as if your mind is full of cobwebs as he stays in you, keeping you full until his erection turns soft. 

The softness of your shared bed barely registers in your mind as he moves the two of you over. The blanket is placed over your naked bodies and he pulls you close. His lips press into your temple as he chants mantras of his devotion to you as you fall asleep in his arms a satisfied smile on his face. 

This time, Morpheus has learned his lesson as he stares adoringly at your peaceful face. How could he ever forget something like that?

Time to get back to that angst fic, but we can enjoy this as like... a palate cleanser or something

I'm now on Ao3! The fics are very slowly getting added when I have the energy to. I never knew how in-depth the tagging system went and I get tired looking at it...

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader smut #dream of the endless x reader smut #dream x reader smut #lord morpheus #dream the endless

[slythepuffle]

Here’s a one-shot inspired by @dismissivedestroyer’s Dexter Lives AU! I hope I’m doing it justice. I’m planning on doing one for Tender Treats too if this one does well. Set during Unwanted Guest. TW for Demonic Possession and Demonic Throw-Up

Lila struggled against the grasp of the possessed exterminator, wheezing and gasping as the air was squeezed from her lungs. He was saying something about – Killing her and leaving her alive, somehow – when she heard the door open and she could feel a spark of hope – Maybe this person could help?

“MOM!” her son’s voice cried out, and her hope dropped, replaced with panic. She opened an eye, looking at the door where her son and his friend stood. They were both grinning happily, having not yet realized the carnage inside the house. “Can we–?”

He trailed off, taking a moment to take in the whole scene – His mom, being held up in the air by what appeared to be a floating yellow demon, with broken wood and glass shards scattered across the floor. “Uhhh…”

“K-Kids!” she called, hoping the pause would give them time to go and get help. She didn’t get the chance to, as she was suddenly thrown away as the demon snarled, “You two! You–!”

It went on a rant about being left in the attic for two years – Oh, so that’s what was making those sounds – but she wasn’t really paying attention to it. She was desperately trying to find something that would help – A weapon, a phone, a distraction, anything that could be helpful – when she saw the pieces of her ruler.

She had used it to try and fight the demonic being earlier, but it hadn’t really helped, resulting in it breaking into two pieces. An idea popped into her head, and she hastily rearranged the pieces, whirling back to where the demon hovered over the two boys. She shouted, accidentally interrupting the boys arguing, “T-The power of Christ compels you!”

“We are having an exorcism!” the two boys cheered once they saw what she had made, the argument already forgotten. It was a very badly made cross, both pieces shaking as she held it up in the air. The demon whirled around, eyes narrowed as it considered the terrified woman and her shabby defense.

“You think that’s going to work on me?” it snarled, flexing the dangerous yellow claws at the tips of the gloved hands. Lila, though terrified, glared back, commanding in a less shaky tone. “Get out of that body! It’s not yours! The power of Christ compels you!”

It sneered, advancing on her, before suddenly pausing. It could feel the body’s stomach suddenly churning, an almost sickly feeling rising up the throat. It growled under his breath – So the cross did work. Very weakly, but still. Bah, this isn’t worth it. It needed more strength. Perhaps a new host as well.

It turned back to the two boys, who were happily singing back Lila’s words, unaware of their danger. Both or either would do – They were chaotic little brats that could be useful to its endeavors. They owed it anyway – They were the ones who summoned it, so now they had to be the ones who dealt with it.

The woman behind it was still chanting, using her semi-functional cross as it glared at the smiling, oblivious boys. It snarled and then shot out of the body, a black sludge firing out of the mask’s nozzle and straight for them–

That’s when Dexter woke up.

~~~~

Now, Dexter had no idea what the fuck just happened.

The last thing he remembered was being in the attic, preparing a trap for the little pest hiding in the nice lady’s house, when he suddenly turned around and jumped by what appeared to be a red demon.

He was an exterminator, not a priest. The hell was he supposed to do against it?!

Dexter would worry about that later. Right now though, he was focused on the disgusting, sticky feeling coating the inside of his mask and clinging to his throat, choking him. He gasped and heaved, fingers clawing at the base of his neck as he tried to take off his mask. He was able to get it off, and threw it off to the side somewhere, hacking out the sludge-like substance from his throat.

He could feel someone hitting his back, most likely trying to help him out, while also spewing out panicked and hurried apologies. He didn’t focus on that, eyes still squeezed shut, wheezing as he digested the events that had just gone down. The person hitting his back stopped, helping him to his feet and leading him somewhere else.

“I’m so so sorry about that!” Lila continued, her expression guilty as she led Dexter over to the kitchen and helped sit him down in a seat. He continued coughing, listening as she limped towards the fridge and poured a glass of water, pressing it into his hand. “Here, drink this, it will help.”

“Hey, Mom!” a kid in a skeleton costume – Wasn’t it June? – yelled, poking into the kitchen. Another kid poked his head in, this one wearing a pumpkin costume. “Can we watch something?”

“Sure, kids!” she replied, still looking at Dexter with a motherly look of worry. It reminded him of his own mom – Geez, he needed to call her after this, she was probably worried out of her mind. He realized that she was waiting for him to drink, and he quickly took a sip of water, almost sighing in relief as the liquid passed through his throat. Right, manners. He still had those. 

“T-Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled, scratching at his face with his other hand. He felt a bit naked without his mask, but he had no idea where he had thrown it in the living room. She beamed at him and he glanced away, sipping at the water again. “It’s no problem! I hope you’re feeling alright, I really am sorry for what happened, I had no idea that it wasn’t a rat up there–”

“It’s fine, ma’am,” he interrupted, not wanting her to continue rambling. “At least it’s gone now, right?”

She nodded, reassured at the moment, before bustling around the kitchen, leaving him to quietly and awkwardly sip at his water. Well, this was an incredibly weird and rather fucked up day. But at least he’s still alive! He couldn’t wait to go home and–

His vision was suddenly filled with white and orange, two pairs of eyes blinking at him. “Hi!”

“Holy–!” Dexter leaped back, biting back the curse that lingered on his tongue. Children. He didn’t have much exchanges with them and he was a bit wary of interacting with them, more for their sake than for his. Especially given his… thoughts…

He blinked at them, awkwardly silent, and they blinked back, still smiling innocently. “Uhh… hi?”

“Do you want to watch with us, Not-Moloch?” the skeleton kid chirped. He tilted his head, eyebrows creased in confusion. “Uhhh… I’m Dexter. Not… not-moloch?”

“Oh,” the skeleton kid said simply. The pumpkin kid grinned at him. “I am Pump! This is Skid. Do you want to watch with us, Dexter?”

“Uhhhh.” He glanced back at Lila. She still seemed preoccupied, doing whatever she was doing in the kitchen. His eyes darted back to the children, still beaming at him brightly, waiting for his answer. Damnit, he couldn’t say no when they looked at him like that– “Sure?”

The two children cheered, taking him by his gloved hands and dragging him to the living room. He nearly tripped over himself with how fast they were pulling him, and let out a small ‘oomph’ when the two of them pushed him onto the couch. He let them, watching them silently as they took places on the floor to continue watching.

“Hey, Mr. Dexter?” the skeleton kid – Skid – suddenly asked, drawing his attention. “What were you doing in my house?”

“Oh – I’m an exterminator. Your mom asked me to get rid of a rat in your attic,” he mumbled in response, fidgeting in his place on the couch. The two turned to look at him with unblinking gazes, unnerving him slightly, before Pump asked, “How do you get rid of rats?”

Dexter blinked. That’s… not what he was expecting to be asked. “Uhh… Well, before I can get rid of them, first I have to catch them. There are a lot of different ways, but I prefer using insect traps. They tend to work better than the usual mouse traps because of the sticky layer. Makes it a lot harder to move.” 

The exterminator’s tone took on a bit of cheeriness as he continued, relaxing on the couch. “I’ll lay them out on the floor and add some cheese to it, to lure the rats in. When they step on the trap to try and get the cheese, they won’t be able to escape, no matter how hard they try. Then I take the rat and I–”

He cut himself off. He was rambling, and he knew if he were to continue he would scare them. He waited for them to go silent, to look away from him and go back to watching TV or–

“That sounds so cool!” Pump cheered, grinning as he looked at Skid, who nodded in agreement with a similar look on his face. “It’s super spooky! What else do you do?”

Dexter stared at them, confused. What? They… weren’t weirded out by it? He scanned their expression again, expecting disgust or worry or something else generally negative, only to see nothing but eager curiosity. They… really weren’t afraid. They were actually excited, judging by their expressions.

He opened his mouth to say something. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, but was interrupted by Lila coming in. She was smiling, holding a plate of snacks and placing it down in front of them. “Here you are! Sorry for the wait, kiddos. Oh! Dexter, here’s your mask.”

She handed said mask to him, continuing to speak as he absently thumbed at the rubber. “I decided to clean it up for you, seeing as there was still some of that nasty sludge on the inside for you. Hope it helps.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he mumbled, briefly peering into the mask. She really did clean it. That was… nice of her. She smiled at him. “It’s no problem! And you don’t have to call me ma’am. You can just call me Lila!”

“Uhh… Alright then, ma– Miss Lila,” Dexter corrected, slipping on his mask. He felt more comfortable with it on rather than off. Even if these people were really nice and actually seemed interested in what he was saying or doing– He abruptly stood up, causing the two kids to look up from their snacks.

“Is something wrong, Dexter?” Lila asked in concern, but he quickly shook his head in response. Putting on a chipper tone, he answered, “Everything’s great Miss Lila! But I’m afraid that I have to go. A lot of jobs, you know?”

That was a lie. This was his last job of the day and he doubted that anyone would need his services this late at night. In truth, he just wanted to go over and analyze the day by himself, without confusing distractions. The children let out a bout of complaints over it, wanting to hear more about his job, but Lila shushed them. “Now, now kids, we don’t want Mr. Dexter to get in trouble, do we?”

Skid and Pump shook their heads immediately. She nodded, and then guided Dexter to the door, digging through her pockets as she did. “Thank you again for your help tonight. I know it wasn’t exactly your normal job.”

She opened up the door and he stepped out, pointedly looking away from the sky. Lila stayed at the door, but offered her hand out to him and– Wow that was a lot of cash. “Here’s your payment!”

“I–I can’t take this!” Dexter spluttered, trying to push it back into her hands. But she shook her head, pressing it into his hands. “Tonight was a lot and I insist you get paid double for your troubles.”

Dexter tried to protest, but Lila wasn’t taking no for an answer, so he gave up. Pocketing the money, he smiled at her weakly. “Thank you for your hospitality tonight, Miss Lila.”

She nodded, smiling. “Of course! If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

The two kids suddenly popped out from behind her, shooting him wide happy grins. 

“Come back soon!” Pump chirped. Skid nodded happily, adding, “Yeah! Tell us more spooky facts next time!”

Dexter swallowed, returning their enthusiasm with a weak grin and nod. “A-Alright, kids. See you!”

He stumbled down to his truck, settling in before driving off with a wave to the house. Today was… definitely something. But, despite the whole ‘demonic possession’ situation, he didn’t mind it. Thinking back on it, the memories of their kindness lingering in his mind, made him smile. 

Yeah, he didn’t mind it at all.

#spooky month #spooky month au #spooky month fanfic #spooky month dexter #spooky month lila #spooky month skid #spooky month pump #spooky month moloch

[snoozbin]

kiss ban gn!reader x sungho ・ drabble college au fluff established relationship ・ cw kissing hickeys (NOT SEXUAL !!!!!) swearing ! wc 538

sungho is the perfect boyfriend you could ever ask for.

from his jaw-dropping looks to his heart-warming personality, he always made you smile and appreciate your relationship. but—

he has a habit, a very up-and-close habit. kissing. or as he sees it "showing his love to someone he loves" this is mainly nice as everyone likes physical touch from their significant other, but this time it's bad.

very bad.

hearts pounded as you locked lips with sungho, his plump lips glossed with a thin layer of spit as the two of you were making out. his slender fingers playing with the ends of your shirt. kissing was a very normal thing to do every day as you couldn't help but melt into a puddle every time sungho pouted at you. you disconnected with sungho and stared into his eyes, such loving and doting eyes that could make you fall in love with him all over again. 

suddenly you feel his lips against your neck, giving you chast kisses down to your collarbone. "we have to go soon, sunggg.." you huffed out as you watched him continue to kiss you. "just give me a sec, wanna give you more kisses.." 

his lips sucked down on your neck. you didn't mind this as you were in the moment. 

soon after the kisses were done and you were ready to go to college that's when you realized what happened. "sungho. what did you do to my neck??" you froze, only looking at the mirror in front of you. "i didn't know it was gonna bruise up like that.." he was referring to a hickey on your neck. 

park sungho just gave you a hickey... ! when you were about to campus.

"i'm dead. i'm fucking dead sungho." you muttered, surprisingly sungho caught what you said. "maybe just cover up? or maybe put makeup on it?.." he advised you, but you frowned. sungho's hands clasped onto yours as his eyes looked into yours, showing pure empathy and anxiousness. "y'know i didn't mean to do this to you, right? i'm sorry babe, i just got too into it." he apologized. 

a sigh fell off your lips as you looked back at sungho. "it's fine, uhm, i can just wear a sweater." sungho nodded at your response, feeling bad about the hickey on your neck. "you better not feel bad right now sung, it's just a silly hickey. 'ts isn't gonna kill me!" you chuckle while zipping your sweater up. 

sungho didn't say a word and placed his arms around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. "i'm just so sorry." he whispered into your ear. "i know you are, and it's okay!!" you reassured him. 

your hands gently picked up your bags and headed straight to the door. "you better not be sad when i come back sung!!" "i won't, okay?" you nodded to his response and opened the door. 

"just so you know though —"

"you're on a kissing ban, till this thing goes away." sungho's eyes widened as you said that with a smile. "NOOOOO" sungho whined, a pout forming on his lips. "i might give you a kiss if you at least help get rid of the hickey." you giggled. 

🐰 : sorry if this is bad. I'm trying to get into the groove of writing (TT)

#★ ( SNOOZE !! ) #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor sungho #park sungho #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #bnd imagines #bnd #sungho #boynextdoor park sungho #boynextdoor fluff #sungho fic #sungho x reader #bnd angst #bonedo

[harrysbelovedd]

carnival date [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - you get sick of rafe playing hard to get, so you decide to hit him where it hurts.

warnings - swearing, angst/fluff

Lights shone brightly below us, a large teddy bear sitting between us. As the ferris wheel begins to approach the boardwalk ground, I look over at JJ. I smile lovingly–hoping my acting is believable. 

“Is he looking?” I whisper through clenched teeth. 

JJ’s eyes peer down, spotting a furious Rafe standing on the ground, smoke practically fuming out of his ears. His strong arms cross over his broad chest, veins in his hands protruding out of anger as he clenches his fists.

“Oh he’s looking, and I think–correct me if I’m wrong–he is going to kill me and throw my body off the pier once we got off this fuckin’ thing.” He widens his eyes, nodding his head toward the man I’m really here for.

“Possibly,” I shrug, “Don’t worry I’ll put in a good word, you should lock your doors though.” I warn, playfully. Except just to be safe, JJ probably should triple check his locks tonight. Rafe’s jealousy is unexplainable. But that’s what he gets for thinking he can play hard to get with me.

Rafe and I have been playing this game for months, he shows his interest in me on a drunken night, then the next morning acts like I don’t exist. He knows that I know how he feels, and I’m sure he knows how I feel. Today, I grew sick and tired of him acting like a child. So, I decided to use the one sure-fire way I could get him to fess up.

Jealousy.

I don’t hang out with the pogues much, but JJ Maybank happened to owe me a favor. A couple weeks ago he snuck into Midsummers trying to find some free booze. So, when security caught him, I covered for him and told him he owed me. So, here we are. Pretending to be on a date to make Rafe jealous.

Soon enough, the ferris wheel came to a stop. JJ stood up, grabbing my hand and the teddy bear as we hopped off the ride. Rafe now stands with Topper and Kelce, pretending to be part of their conversation. But really, his eyes are purely on JJ and I. 

“Kiss me, JJ.”

His eyes widen, “Woah I-”

“Please, it’ll set him off and he’ll come over here, trust me.” I beg.

He rolls his eyes, “Alright but we’re even after this.”

He leans in, his calloused palm holding my cheek, pulling me closer. My eyes flick down to his lips and before we even have the chance to actually kiss–

“Yo, Maybank!” 

My lips curl into a smirk at his voice. Just like clockwork.

We both turn to see the brooding man walking toward us. His gaze is lethal, every other person on the boardwalk making way for Rafe Cameron. His jaw clenches, his fists balling by his sides. 

When he reaches us, he chuckles menacingly, “This is cute. I don’t give you attention so you go for the fuckin’ pogue?”

I scoff, “No, JJ just has the emotional maturity of an adult who’s able to actually understand his feelings and act on them.”

I hear JJ chuckle next to me, probably never expecting to hear the words “emotional maturity” and “JJ” in the same sentence. 

“He’s gonna treat you like shit, y’know that right? He’ll use you for what he needs then he’ll toss you aside,” He argues, turning toward JJ. “And when that happens you better watch your fuckin’ back JJ. You hurt her, I’ll kill you.” He seethes. 

I push JJ back, hopefully sending him the signal to leave before Rafe does something stupid. “And you’d do any better?” I scoff, “I see the girls you bring to Tannyhill and never fucking speak to again. I stopped wasting my time the second I realized you’d do the same to me.”

His anger stops at my words, he steps closer to me. “Do you really believe that? They weren’t you! I’ve been so terrified of hurting you I’ve been trying to protect you from myself. They were nothing.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” I whisper, my fingers tugging at the hem of my top.

“Because–” He hesitates, “I’m stupid. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. And I’m just stupid.”

“You are stupid,” I chuckle. 

He smiles, his head dipping down to meet my line of sight. His fingers push my hair behind my ear, “So can I kiss you now? Your date ditched.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t a real date,” I smirk.

“Oh you’re just as jealous and fucked up as me, huh baby?”

I grin as he pulls my face toward him in his palm, smashing his lips against mine.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb

[seramilla]

Seraphiel thinks that heaven has the high advantage against carmilla but they are proven wrong. Lucifer is not entertaining the idea of his family being executed simply for trying to protect themselves against the extermnations. And as for sera and Emily, they willingly fell so there are no crimes held against them.

So he decides himself to go have a little "chat" with seraphiel and the arch angels.

Lucifer stands in the middle of the angelic courtroom. He hasn't been here in, what? Eight thousand? Ten thousand years? Normally, he's never allowed in Heaven, under any circumstances. That's the way it's been ever since he fell. However, it was unusually easy to request an audience with the High Seraphim this time around. Normally, he meets with Heaven ambassadors at his Hell embassy. On equal ground, in his own turf; but cocky and overly sure of himself, Seraphiel had demanded they meet here, of all places.

Seraphiel hadn't even given him the benefit of a podium. Lucifer stands there, in the same damn square tile on the floor where he'd stood when they passed judgement on him, all those millenia ago. It's an attempt to make him feel vulnerable and weak, Lucifer realizes. But the little king has already been through literal Hell and back in is long existence; it will take much more than this, he thinks, to make him feel uncomfortable.

Seraphiel looks down at him from his pedestal. He's taller now, just like Sera, but without the sincerity and kindness that's always been present behind her eyes. His jaw and nose are sharp, angled, bird-like, and strong. His hair is the same white, cloud-like curls his sister possesses. The main difference in their features is that maniacal, twisted grin on his face. Sera had never wanted to see Lucifer fall; Seraphiel, on the other hand, had been giddy for it. One less Seraphim in the way to his direct line of power, Lucifer suspects. And now with Sera gone, the cocksure angel has finally gotten his way.

"Greetings, Morningstar," Seraphiel booms across the courtroom, forcing his voice to carry so he can be heard by all in their presence. Hellfire, this bastard is so full of himself, Lucifer thinks. "I see you are here on behalf of one Carmilla Carmine. I told her we would not be entertaining any changes to our agreement."

Lucifer chuckles. "Agreement? The way I read it, she didn't have the chance to agree to anything. Your terms were quite clear."

"Indeed," Seraphiel says, less amused with him now that Lucifer's had the gall to talk back. "I also seem to recall that I said any attempts to change the terms would be considered an outright refusal. I should kill all of them right now. That would be my right."

Lucifer smiles. That same wicked, signature smile that makes him so intimidating to his subjects, even now. This maniac in front of him really is just a petty, childish, ignorant little know-it-all, Lucifer thinks. Seraphiel is no Sera; he can't even keep the details of his deals straight.

Lucifer laughs. "I seem to recall the deal I made with your predecessors shields me and my family from your people's judgement. That includes the Exterminations and any other random act of retribution you may have against Sinners. Is that something you forgot?"

"Yes, your family has absolute immunity, for now," Seraphiel confirms. "That doesn't include the Carmine woman, her offspring, or anyone she invites into her home."

Lucifer laughs even harder. He leans on his cane, showing for all the world he knows he has nothing to fear from anyone here.

"Well, see, that's where you're wrong," Lucifer mocks, looking up at the frowning High Seraphim from underneath the brim of his large, white hat. "You may not be aware, but my daughter recently entered into a relationship with Emily. You know, your other sister? The one you said would never amount to anything? Ah, yes, I know you remember her. She stole the subcommittee seat right out from under your nose, didn't she?"

"You fucking piece of--!" Seraphiel stands, starting to shout. But when every eye immediately averts in response to his sudden outburst, he sits down again, trying desperately to maintain his composure. Lucifer sees his struggle, relishing in it, and uses that moment to drive the final point home.

"Yes, that Emily! Aaaaaanyway, she's dating my daughter now! Isn't that amusing! Which makes her family, for all intents and purposes. Which makes Sera family by proxy. Meaning that you can't do shit to either of them. And honestly, if I were the type of guy who thought revenge was worth it, I could have the elders court-martial you right now, for injuring one of Sera's stepdaughters. "

"Wait, that's not--!" Seraphiel starts, but Lucifer interrupts him again.

"Your contract is with me, not Carmilla, Philly, my boy," Lucifer continues. "My contract precedes anything you could draft up with her. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied." Lucifer jokingly shape-shifts his arms until they're tied together tight, like an exaggeratedly large bow tie, to drive the point home. "My family is safe. My entire family, even the ones who enter through romantic relationships. And since now the one who drafted up that contract is also in my family, well, I'd say you're shit out of luck. And if you ever come after one of them again, I will take it up with your superiors. Capiche?"

Lucifer waits for an answer, but when he doesn't get one, he smiles. "Wonderful! I'm glad we understand each other. Good to see you again, Philly! The pleasure's been all mine!"

With that, Lucifer turns on his heels, spinning his cane in a wide arc and whistling as he exits the courtroom. He can hear Seraphiel trying to protest behind him, while a couple of the angels on his subcommittee attempt to keep their leader under control. Seraphiel shouts out after him, something about how slimy he is, and about getting even. But Lucifer is already out the door, opening a portal to his palace, ready to tell Carmilla the good news.

It's always good to read the fine print of every contract, Lucifer recalls. He, the silver tongue and father of lies, is particularly good at finding such loopholes. He's especially proud that it had been his own daughter, bless her heart, who'd pointed this particular one out to him. His precious Charlie. His sweet, talented, brilliant apple of his eye. He's so very proud of her.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #emily #chaggily #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seraphiel #attempted murder angst au #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Assuming you'd be willing to: How does Butch react/act when realizing he might be crushing on the Male!Lone Wanderer? Either while they're both still in the vault or after the Lone Wanderer returns from the Wastes

Butch's Reaction to Crushing on a M!Lone

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » Butch is mean ➼ Genre » Romantic

It pisses him off when he first starts to notice how he feels for you. I imagine he represses his romantic feelings for men like crazy and realizing that he’s slowly developing a crush on you, of all people, makes him want to punch a hole in the wall.

He’ll be even crueler to you now; spitting on you, jumping you in the Vault hallways, and threatening to carve his initials into your skin with his pocket knife. He hopes that it’ll force his desires away. Maybe if you hate him enough he’ll finally just let it go, but, to his dismay, it never happens.

It becomes obvious very quickly that something deeper within him is causing him to be like this. The other Tunnel Snakes will also start noticing how much he seems to like picking on you compared to anyone else in the Vault.

The day you leave is the day he shatters. Of course, you’re the one who has to leave. He’ll pretend to be happy about finally being rid of you, but deep down he’s worried you won’t make it. You’re smaller than him, weaker than him, and never had been one to fight back... how would you ever survive on the surface?

He can’t help the way his eyes light up when he spots you entering the Muddy Rudder. He doesn’t even bother hiding the smile that slowly tugs at his lips as he waves you over to the bar, praying you won't cringe at the sight of him and leave.

He’ll act as if you guys had been friends for years. He’ll toss his arm loosely around your shoulders and order you a drink, asking about your time in the wasteland. However, his friendly demeanor will shift once he sees how awkward you act around him.

He doesn’t bring up how he used to treat you - he doesn’t know if he can - but he’ll, at the very least, try to make an effort toward earning your trust.

He follows you whether you want him to or not. He may still be a tad naive about what exists in the wasteland, but he’s not naive enough to recognize the dangers. The last thing he wants is for you to die, especially if it happens before he can confess to you.

He’s gentler toward you now. Those few months after you’d set off to find your dad had killed him, and he wants to make an active effort to show how much he’s missed you and how much he wants to be around you.

He’ll slowly start to do things that boyfriends traditionally do. He’ll offer to carry some of your heavier items, open doors for you, and even pay for meals when you both find a settlement to eat out at.

He also becomes extremely protective over you. You can see the hatred and jealousy boiling in his eyes whenever he spots someone touching you or standing too close. It eats at him even more knowing he can’t say anything because you two aren’t officially together.

Some of his old habits still linger. Occasionally, he’ll grab your face to make you look at him or, stick his foot out and trip you while you walk. It’s just in his nature.

Although, he does try to make it up by offering to clean up your hair for you. Free of charge. Either because he’s noticed it’s been growing out or it’s gotten dirty during the days you’ve spent traveling. Besides, he likes being able to take care of you like this.

It kills him that he can’t seem to find it within himself to just tell you about how he’s feeling, or even just apologize for how he treated you while you both were in the Vault.

It’ll become more and more obvious that he’s interested in you, but he refuses to be the one to say it. You’ll have to make the first move in the relationship because his pride won’t let him be in love with another man. Especially, if there’s a chance he may be rejected.

#fallout #fallout 3 #fo3 #butch deloria fo3 #butch deloria x lone #butch fo3 #butch deloria #butch x lone wanderer #butch x m!lone #butch deloria x m!lone #M!lone #M!Lone wanderer #lone fo3 #lone wanderer fo3 #lone wanderer #butch deloria headcanons #fallout headcanons #fallout 3 headcanons #fo3 headcanons

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Actually, while I’m already on the “Mito doesn’t have a canonical personality, I can write her however I please, and if I wanna make her a barn girl I fucking can” topic:

Hashirama meets Mito in the hustle and bustle of Uzushio’s market while he’s on a diplomatic mission and Mito draws his attention by being the loudest of all, currently arguing with a trader over his prices for the textiles, so close to starting a fist fight with a civilian. This scoundrel, does he think her dumb?! Does he think she doesn’t know the quality ain’t worth shit?! She’s going to bring these textiles she could use to wipe her ass with at most over to his mother and tell her the outrageous prices he tries to sell them, let’s see what his mommy would think when she finds out what a swindler her son in truth is!

Hashirama falls in love immediately. Has the wedding already planned out. It’s going to be a spring wedding, because of course it is. He only needs to talk to her now—which he does. He walks over, hearts in his eyes, and makes a bouquet for her with his mokuton.

Unfortunately for him, she doesn’t realize that’s the Hokage, so she just gives him a lookover once before calling him a fuckin’ hippie and walking away. Hashirama is even more smitten. Luckily, he’s staying for a whole week and Mito just happens to be one of Uzushio’s greatest seal masters, so he gets to see her at the main estate anyway.  

Ultimately, he wins her over by showing her the cool poisonous shit he can create. The Forest of Death in Konoha might or might be a (failed) experiment of Hashirama’s mokuton mixed with Mito’s seals trying to see if she can enhance the effects but that’s a story for another time.

#hashimito #uzumaki mito #senju hashirama #mito when she realizes she’s going to marry a political figure: aw fuck I’ll have to behave now? be polite and shit?! talk fuckin’ refined? #plastering a fake polite smile every time she’s in public only to get rid of her stupid robes and let her hair free once she’s at home #“ugh finally some peace” she says spreading her legs bc if she has to keep her legs closed one second longer she’ll kill someone #i just think that considering mito has no canon character we can make literally anything out of her #the possibilities are endless

[hayaku14]

‘conan but there's no permanent antidote’ stans are so fucking scary like they really stared straight into god's eyes and said, "that's right we thrive in fucking PAIN."

#do not mess with these people #they see shinichi suffer through an identity crisis trying to accept that he cannot escape being conan anymore and they SMILE #they eat up 'conan killing shinichi' fanarts for breakfast #they see conan watch all his peers graduate from highschool and move on with their lives and theyre fucking GIDDY #you can stab these people in the chest with a shinichi funeral and theyd say 'now thats good fucking food' #my weakass COULD NEVER #i am gods WEAKEST soldier #i am built for angst and hurt and pain but ONLY IF IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING #(oh but wait KAT 'conan with no permanent antidote' is about finding happiness despite the tragedy of it all!) #(yes YES I KNOW THIS. A happy ending IS possible bUT) #(you are forgetting i am gods WEAKEST soldier. i am simply not built for this kind of bittersweet happy ending 🤧🤧🤧) #(but that bittersweet ending is beautiful in itself though ;-; i just cant go through the process of getting there 💀) #dc prattles #kaishin #kaico #dcmk #detective conan #i was mainly thinking about kaico when i first wrote this but then i realized this shit is applicable to all ships (romantic ot not) that #involved conan with no antidote SO #yes

[daffodi1]

.

#i hate when people at work ask me how im doing #like my dude the only thing keeping me from ending it all rn #is the fact that if i killed myself right now itd completely ruin christmas for my siblings #but i cant say that and it just feels like a joke. that i have to smile until the end #even if im at my breaking point #ive just come to realize that it doesnt matter what i do #it doesnt matter how hard i try #i finally left an abusive household and for what #for me to be threatened with losing my job and livelihood #and for my means of transportation to decide now is the time to die #which drains me of the money i need to stay housed #and the sad part of this is that i was doing this all for my partners so they could finally be happy #only for me now to realize they would be better off without me #they could have gotten a cheaper apartment if i wasnt there #they wouldnt have to worry about apartments that allow pets if i wasnt there #if i died a long time ago nobody would have to waste their time worrying about a lost cause like me #because whatever deity that is out there has decided that they hate me #and i cant blame them because i hate me too #im the one who is selfish enough to want to stay #so i can experience being loved so i can experience joy and freedom #i want it all and i want to finally live in. at least comfort if i cant have bliss #but its clear that kind of life isnt in the cards for me #its clear that im never going to be happy and that im always going to be preparing for the next disaster #that uproots my life completely and forces me to build everything from the ground up #only for it all to be shattered again and for me to stare down the shards of my hard work at my feet #im so tired of it. im sick of it all. i just want peace #and if the only way i can get peace is to die then maybe thats what needs to happen #emil chatter #negative //

[selineram3421]

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #the radio demon #alastor x reader #headcanons #alastor headcanons #jealousy #implied murder #implied torture #gore? #eyeballs #this turned out more like a fic #he do want all your attention tho

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

part two

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!��� you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

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