#I’m trying to make sure I get all the tags for block lists
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E2? Pervert Incel Yan!Megumi ?
FEMOID!
Pervert Incel Yan!Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader
Prompt: “You’re better off without them anyway.”
Warnings: NSFW, heavy Yandere themes, non con, bondage, gagging, degradation, incel pervert, face slapping, Megumi loses his virginity, porn references, facial
Master List
Yandere Alphabet Prompt List
Requests are temporarily closed. Thanks for understanding.
@murderofravens I’m not sure if you like Yan!Megumi content, so I just thought I’d tag you in it anyway.
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Megumi drags you into the bedroom, your feet kicking, your nails clawing at his arms. Your body twisting and thrashing as he throws you down on the bed and pins you there. He crawls over you, heavy on your chest.
You’re able to let loose one sharp scream before he’s slapping you across the face.
“Why are you pretending to be a victim? Poor baby. Can get all the dick she wants but closes her legs when a decent guy is interested in her.”
“A decent guy wouldn’t do this! Megumi, please!”
“Like you’d know anything about it. I know your type. You’re only after guys who treat you like trash while guys like me come in last. You’re a fucking pathetic whore, holding out on me just because you think you’re better. Is that it? You really think a little skank like you is better than the rest of us?”
He rips your shirt open, the buttons of your blouse going everywhere in different directions. He looks at your rack and smiles devilishly. You try to cover up, use your hands to block his view of your padded bra.
He doesn’t like that. Megumi holds your wrists down against the bed on either side of your hips. He leans in close, smelling the dot of perfume you usually put on your sternum. It’s faint, like a delicate flower, barely there, but he can still make it out.
Your squirming becomes too much for him to deal with. He slaps you again, making you so dizzy and compliant as he stands up to go get something. All you can do is groan and lay there as you try to get your bearings.
Megumi returns and grabs your limbs, and you come alive again when you feel something scratchy wrapping around your wrists.
“No! No, Megumi! Stop it! No! I don’t want this! I don’t want you!”
“Shut up!” He shouts at you. “I can’t believe anything that comes out of that lying, bitchy mouth.”
He tears off a piece of duct tape and shuts you up with it.
Megumi strips off his clothes. If you weren’t so terrified, you’d probably take the time to appreciate his athletic build. He’s just…oh fuck…hes palming himself, growing harder and harder as he looks at you all tied up for his own use.
He runs his hand up your inner thigh, hooking two fingers in your panties and pulling them down slowly. All the way off, he takes them in his hand and fists your cotton underwear against his cock right in front of you. He pumps himself until he has a full erection. It curves upwards slightly, long in length. His thick tip leaks with pre as he crawls over you once more.
Your skirt, bra, shoes, and socks are the next to go. Finally, he sees you, all of you in the state you were meant to be in: naked just for him.
Finally, he gets the girl.
He can see the tears in your eyes as you whimper and make incomprehensible noises behind the duct tape over your lips. He can’t help but smirk at your pathetic state.
“All you bitches are the same,” he whispers into your ear as he thrusts into you, pushing your knees up to your shoulders just like he’s seen so many pornstars do.
Taking your tight pussy might be the best thing Megumi has ever done for himself. He doesn’t know why he didn’t do this sooner. With the way you look at the other boys around campus, you fucking deserve it.
You throw your head back uncontrollably, thrusting your hips up without giving your body consent to do so. You don’t want this. Why, WHY, is your body reacting like you do?
This isn’t right! It isn’t normal. How his cock is hitting your sweet spot of pure pleasure, how he’s bumping your cervix with every heated thrust.
Megumi overstimulates you, biting down hard on your shoulder and pulling your hair back as he keeps himself up with one arm. The wild groans coming from his throat while beating your pussy senseless make you cry tears of terror and shame.
You don’t mean to do it. It just happens. He finally runs your g-spot so ragged that you can’t do anything but come. You’re a messy, twitchy little thing as Megumi splits you in half.
“You fuckmeats treat us like we’re less than you, less than human when we’re the superior ones. We’re your protectors. The least you can do is put yourself to good use and spread your legs,” Fushiguro taunts you, relishing in how weepy and scared you are.
Seeing your tears roll over the duct tape like that really drives him wild. He pulls out, fisting his cock until he’s spilling his seed all over you, giving you a nice and creamy facial.
When Megumi finishes, he’s panting heavily, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You shake as you look at the back of his wild, dark hair.
“I hope you understand this means we’re together now.”
His words catch you off guard. You don’t want to be together with Megumi, but what can you do right now? You can’t even speak!
“You’re better off without them anyway.”
#yandere#triggering content#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#triggering themes#yandere x darling#yandere themes#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere megumi fushiguro#yandere megumi x reader#yandere megumi#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen megumi
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I guess I just feel like there’s not enough consideration of exactly how many people have been fucked over by the actions of a few malicious people.
The qsmp admins got so supremely fucked over by this and continue to get fucked over with this mess. They’re left in the dark about so much and that’s a terrible feeling to have. My heart goes out to all of you because you wanted to be part of something you loved and that was used against you. I hope those of you who chose to leave find bright futures with projects you love. I hope those of you who are able and willing to stay get the respect and compensation you deserve. No one should have to put up with that kind of abuse in the workplace.
Quackity messed up by naively trusting that no one would he hired would try to screw him over and now he’s got to fix this entire mess mostly by himself because he is the sole owner at the moment. He’s also been fucked over, it was his finances that were squandered by the problem admins and those admins abused the trust he put them. I also feel bad for Quackity during all of this because even though he should have been more involved from the start, there never would’ve been a problem if everyone on the Quackity Studios team was honest and respectful.
The admins that were hurt are not the enemy!
Quackity is not the enemy!
The few people within Quackity Studios who took advantage of Quackity’s lack of involvement and experience and used that to mistreat the rest of the team are the problem! They are the root cause of this mess!
Please have compassion for everyone else left to pick up the pieces and try to salvage the server.
#qadmin situation#qsmp admin situation#discourse#qsmp discourse#I’m trying to make sure I get all the tags for block lists#if I missed one let me know!#qsmp
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I’m not trying to attack you, but do you know that proshipper means someone who supports and romanticizes pedophilia, incest, and abuse? Your reblog on that post seems to read that you think antis just hate on people for having ships they don’t like. But it’s completely different than that. Just looking on the proshipper side of Tumblr and the internet and you can see people happily shipping children and adults and making nsfw content of such things.
i appreciate that you're not being outright hostile, but i have to say, that on its own put you above basically every anti i've interacted with.
i understand where antis are coming from, i really do. there are a lot of things on the internet that make me deeply uncomfortable, including the minor/adult ships that you mention. i don't want to anything to do with those kinds of ships and i would be happiest if i never saw them again. which is why i'm proship.
nine times out of ten, if i see that kind of ship brought up on my dash, it's because i was following an anti without realizing it, and they brought it up unprompted and untagged, to talk about how bad it is that they exist. they are the ones putting that kind of content in front of my face and making it harder to avoid.
the thing about people who ship those ships is that they're generally very aware that not everyone wants to see that kind of content, and so they tag it. they make sideblogs to talk about it. they don't go out of their way to shove it in people's faces. that means i, and everyone else who doesn't like it, can avoid it.
what antis want is for it to not exist at all. they want the tags to be purged and blocked, and for anyone who uses those tags to have their accounts deleted. and sure, that might get rid of some of it, but do you know what would happen to the rest? it would stop being tagged. people who don't want to see it wouldn't have the tools to avoid it. this isn't just a hypothetical, that's what's happened any time a fan space has tried to do that.
that's not even getting into the rabbit hole of what should be banned and what shouldn't. obviously any content that depicts real children or real life abuse shouldn't exist and shouldn't be allowed to be posted, but basically any platform that people use already enforces those policies, and there's not much of a slippery slope to go down there. if it involves real living breathing people being abused, it's bad. end of discussion.
but the same can't be said for fiction. ask ten antis for a specific list of all the content that should be banned, and you'll get ten different answers. what about kink? what about roleplay? what about horror and murder and anything that involves fictional characters being graphically tortured? what about people using art to process terrible things that have happened to them? what about art that uses dark themes as a horror element? if you just want to ban anything questionable to anyone, that's the line of thinking that gets any mention of lgbt existence banned. and again, this isn't just a hypothetical, this has happened before, and that's generally where it leads.
i know, from personal experience, that antis do, in fact, send harassment to people just for shipping things they don't like. i've gotten accused of absolutely vile shit for shipping two fictional characters who were both consenting adults. i've seen ship wars turn into moral battlegrounds, over ships that an average person wouldn't bat an eye at.
the thing about "romanticization" is a whole other can of worms. the anti logic goes like this: if someone sees something (even if it's very obviously fictional) in a positive light enough times, they will start thinking it's okay in real life, and go on to hurt real people. the problem with that is that it's just. blatantly untrue.
if it were true every horror movie fan would be a serial killer, every person that studies dark media would be an unhinged psychopath, and everyone who is into ddlg would be a pedophile. but they're not. they just aren't. people have directed movies just as fucked up as the darkest shit on ao3, and are still capable of being normal human beings who know right from wrong in real life.
even if someone is that impressionable, scrubbing away the existence of every piece of questionable content isn't going to solve their problem, because they're still going to be vulnerable to con men, scams, and cultists. the only thing that would actually materially help someone like that is developing their own morals and critical thinking.
children are also more impressionable, and there's a lot of content that's not suitable for them, but that doesn't mean that content shouldn't exist. it just means that they should stick to spaces designed for them (which most social media sites, tumblr included, are not) or, if they're old enough to be responsible for their experience online, they, or a trusted adult in their lives, should block and filter out things that they aren't comfortable with.
which is what everyone on the internet should be doing. it's what i do, and it's made the internet a much more pleasant place to be. and it's why i sometimes worry for antis mental health, especially teenagers, because they're being told it's right and moral to seek out content that makes them uncomfortable and to engage with the people making it. and that's just. really bad. it's not good for the creators that they're harassing obviously, but it's also really bad for them! it's not healthy to seek out things that make you feel bad, and it's a terrible internet safety lesson to teach minors that it's okay for them to seek out and engage with people making adult content.
individual harassment and crusading is never going to succeed at removing dark content from the internet. it just isn't. at best you might get a small percentage of people who create that content to stop sharing it, at worst you're just going to make people stop tagging it, and either way, you're exposing yourself to things that make you feel bad, when you don't have to.
if you want to materially change the type of content you see, you can. the block button is your friend, use it liberally. same with content filtering and tag blocking.
#oops this got really long#cd.ask#proship#disk horse#tw pedophila mention#uhhh what to tag#tw shipping discourse#this doesn't even get into the antis that i've seen proudly professing that they care more about fictional characters than real people#because i don't know how to explain to someone that real humans matter more than cartoon characters#or how to avoid content on platforms other than tumblr bc frankly thats a lot of the reason i don't use them#i don't trust an algorithm#also im turning anon off after posting this so if you want to send me hate you cant be a coward about it#also be prepared to get blocked and ignored#the only reason i answered this person is bc they weren't being hostile
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Idk man I might get torn to shreds for saying this, but I simply cannot understand the new trend, particularly among younger internet users, where people write a laundry list of their triggers in their bio and then expect everyone to read and cater to said list on a PUBLIC PLATFORM.
This is the same mentality that drives people to attack appropriately tagged fics on AO3 for having x y or z content because “How dare you post this when I have trauma about this???” Obviously if someone is going to write a super heavy and highly sensitive fic and NOT tag it properly, they ought to be called out on it. But this isn’t about that, it’s about the people who don’t curate their own content, it’s about the people who enter public spaces and demand that the general public cater to THEM specifically.
Additionally: Listing out your triggers for everyone to see is just ASKING for trolls to come into your inbox and flood you with triggering content. (Unfortunately, as much as we would like to believe otherwise, the internet is full of selfish jerks who don’t give a crap about anybody’s trauma.) Not only this, but the algorithm does not read your bio. The algorithm does not care about your triggers unless YOU make sure to block specific tags and content.
YOU are responsible for curating your own content, and nobody else.
Obviously this is not to say people shouldn’t try to tag their posts for common triggers, because that’s the common courtesy thing to do. But if Becky has a phobia of bees, it is on her to block that tag and curate her feed around it, and she does not get the exclusive right to suddenly demand that nobody talk about bees within a ten mile radius of her. If Alec has a phobia of dogs, then it is well within his right to avoid contact with them, but he doesn’t get to go to a public park and yell at anybody who brings their dog there. It is his responsibility to know his own limits and seek out parks that are dog-free. (If someone brings a dog to a dog-free area, that’s a whole different issue that I won’t be getting into rn but yes, the person who does that is in the wrong there.)
The internet is widely a public space. If you want to create a safe space completely and utterly free of your specific triggers, you have to put the work in to make that space for yourself. You don’t get to ask other internet strangers to do it for you.
I’m saying this out of genuine concern (and admittedly, frustration) because there are so many young teens in fandom nowadays who don’t understand this, and they end up putting themselves in extremely vulnerable and even downright dangerous situations because they don’t understand that putting your well-being in the hands of a stranger is a terrible idea.
Please be safe, and for the love of all that is holy, be reasonable. Curating your content yourself is just as much a protection for you as it is a vital key that allows public communities to function.
#hyramblings#fandom culture#internet discourse#trauma triggers#anxiety triggers#safe space#if I get one person saying “BUT WHAT IF SOMEONE IGNORES X AND DOES IT ANYWAY#we literally went over this#they’re a jerk and have responsibility too#but this ain’t about them rn#ya feel?#internet communities#fandom community
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Keep It Private. Part 2. (DR)
summary: just some more of you and daniel not being able to keep it in your pants on instagram
warnings: suggestive content
note: i wasn’t gonna make a part 2, but my posts have been getting a lot of love (thank you sm) and you guys seemed to rly like this one! <3 (still trying to reply to comments, but j know i see them all!)
masterlist here -> masterlist link
^ check my list for part 1! ^
liked by: y/n.ricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 1,891,034 others
tagged: y/n.ricciardo
danielricciardo: big win today in the australian grand prix race. thank you to my team, my fans, my friends, family, and pit crew. but i couldn’t have done it without my wife @y/n.ricciardo. i will be giving you so many orgasms later, and many reasons to have you not stand straight. i love you, my lucky charm❤️
view comments…
oscarpiastri: omg daniel, seriously?
|> danielricciardo: yeah😊
f1fanpage: do i say that they are cute? or disgusting for the pda?….
wagsoff1: congratulations, daniel!!
|> y/nanddanfp: you’re skipping over the whole last part…?
|> wagsoff1: trying to pretend i didn’t read it
maxverstappen1: congratulations, daniel!!
|> danielricciardo: thank you! 😁
y/n.ricciardo: daniel omg my mom follows you now😳
|> danielricciardo: i blocked her, she follows my family one though. its okay😊
|> y/n.ricciardo: oh okay. i love youuu
|> danielricciardo: i love you tooo❤️
|> landonorris: it’s almost like you guys don’t have messages to say this to each other?
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liked by: danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 1,037,956 others
y/n.ricciardo: workout or workout..?🤭
view comments…
francisca.cgomes: you look stunning!💓🫶
|> y/n.ricciardo: thank you kika🥹🫶
f1wags: GOOD LORD THE CAPTION Y/N
danielricciardo: i prefer the second one
|> y/n.ricciardo: what a coincidence! me too!!
|> danielricciardo: im coming home so we can workout rn
|> y/n.ricciardo: YAY
f1updates: you GUYS😳
georgerussell63: the only couple i know without a filter
|> carmenmmundt: they make it work, they’re hot
|> y/n.ricciardo: ily carmen
|> carmenmmundt: ily too babe
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Daniels BeReal (friends/grid only):
Caption: How mad would she be if i ate her out even tho she’s working?
Reactions:
Comments:
Lando Norris -> dude….
Charles Leclerc -> on the plane??
|> Daniel Ricciardo -> yeah? so?
|> Charles Leclerc -> seems a bit unsanitary
Carlos Sainz -> what the fuck
Pierre Gasly -> get it, daniel!
|> Daniel Ricciardo -> pierreeeeee
Max Verstappen -> i’m not sure what to say.
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liked by: danielricciardo, landonorris, and 1,200,248 others
y/n.ricciardo: congratulations, baby. p1 in australia, our beautiful home country. couldn’t have asked for a better way to celebrate your win ❤️
view comments…
lilymhe: such an adorable couple, congrats daniel!
|> pierregasly: congratulations, daniel !!!
|> danielricciardo: thank you lily, and thank you pierre! congrats on p2 my man
|> pierregasly: YEAHHHH thanks daniel 🙏
f1wags: my couple goals and inspo
danielricciardo: the real win was making you my wife ❤️
|> y/n.ricciardo: damn straight it was
|> danielricciardo: excuse me? you’re gonna regret that miss
|> y/n.ricciardo: WAIT JK JK
|> danielricciardo: mhmm
formula1updates: congratulations on p1, daniel!!!
y/n.fans: parents are slaying tonight
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liked by: y/n.ricciardo, arthur_leclerc, and 2,473,815 others
danielricciardo: happy anniversary to the love of my life, my partner, and my favorite person in the world. i don’t know how i would live without you. i love you, and i cant wait to spend the rest of our lives together❤️
view comments…
charles_leclerc: happy anniversary, guys!
|> danielricciardo: thank you, charles!
fanpage.f1: awwwww, happy anniversary🥹
landonorris: happy anniversary, mom and dad☺️
|> y/n.ricciardo: lando🙃🙃
|> danielricciardo: don’t give her baby fever
|> y/n.ricciardo: too late
|> danielricciardo: wanna make one?
*liked by y/n.ricciardo*
georgerussell63: happy anniversary, you two!
|> danielricciardo: thank you!
f1fan: i cant believe you guys have been together for four years already
|> wagsof.f1: four married and eight total with their dating 🥹🥹
y/n.ricciardo: i love you so much❤️❤️
|> danielricciardo: i love you so much too❤️❤️
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liked by: danielricciardo, carmenmmundt, and 2,013,284 others
y/n.ricciardo: four years ago, you proposed to me while we were at dinner with your friends…translation: four years ago, you made me the happiest, luckiest, and the most loved person in the universe. i cant believe that i’m able to say you’re mine. and now i present my lockscreen for these past four years. i love you more than words can explain, my love❤️
view comments…
pierregasly: i remember that
|> maxverstappen1: yeah, never thought he would propose
|> carlossainz55: it did take him a while
y/nsfans: the lockscreen picture🥹 we finally know what it is. i can now live in peace
wagsf1: you guys don’t get it, im obsessed with this couple
lilymhe: congratulations!! you guys are perfect for each other💓
|> y/n.ricciardo: thank you, lily🥹💓
danielricciardo: i love you so much, thank you for sticking by my side
|> y/n.ricciardo: 🥹🥹🥹
|> danielricciardo: don’t cry, we haven’t had sex yet you can’t cry
|> oscarpiastri: they can’t even stop on anniversary pictures
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(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)
#formula 1#f1#formula one#daniel ricciardo#daniel riccardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x ofc#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo x female reader#daniel riccardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#f1 imagine
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seven days (m) (teaser) | jjk
POSTED HERE JULY 22ND, 2023!!
upcoming series: seven days (m)
pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader(f)
genre/rating: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; roommates to lovers au
summary: you dump yet another guy that wasn’t up to your “ten day standards,” which leaves your cocky ass, very off-limits roommate to tease your single status yet again. but the teasing is always expected. what’s not expected, is the bet that you make without thinking. the bet that even though you give ten days, he wouldn’t even last seven.
warnings: cursing, alcohol/vape mentions, parties, he wears glasses sometimes😔👍, chains bc it’s tradition atp lmaooo, cocky!jk, feelings🤕, big big big jk, flirty!jk, baddie!reader😌, multiple explicit scenes🫠, jk constantly in grey sweatpants and nothing else :))), full lists to be revealed each chapter!
notes: …so this song called seven dropped and—
notes 2: but really there was a fic that had been in the wips for a minute, and i just so happened to have a burst of energy to expand on it so here we are! making it a series to allow myself time to dedicate meaningful energy to each scene and not rush them💕
est. chapters: prologue | mon | tue | wed | thurs | fri | sat | sun | seven days
est. running dates: july-september 2023
taglist: sign up here (i check every entry so read the rules!)
teaser: below the cut if you want a taste 🩵
—
—
“Sure did,” Jungkook puffs before stepping away, taking all the tight space with him and letting you breathe again. “But all I’m saying is, you gotta lower your standards or—”
“No.”
“Or,” he continues, giving you a look, “Not complain if they’re too high.”
“Well, thank you.” With your nose grazing the sky, you point out, “I’d like to think they’re just right.”
“What even are they anyway? All you’ve said is something about ten days.”
“That’s basically it,” you murmur, resting your arms on the island as to not have your chest in full view. “If I still like someone after ten days, I know I’d be fine dating them for real.”
There’s silence when you finish. When you finally look, the gawk you’re getting in return almost makes you laugh. “What?”
“You mean those days are only a trial run?”
You do break into laughter this time, burying your face in slight shyness. “And what about it!”
“Are you serious—?” Jungkook rounds the island so that he can speak directly at your hidden features. “Has anyone even gotten past all ten with you?”
You pause, breath fanning the granite top beneath you and wisping around your face. When you lift your gaze above your arms, you keep it trained on the countertop instead of his curiosity,
“No.”
He doesn’t say a word.
“Not since my standards changed.”
And you think that’s the end of this conversation. Because what else is there to say? You know your expectations are impossible but you think this is a hell of a lot better than—
“I could do it.”
“What.” A glare is shot. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“You? No.” You shake your head. “You wouldn’t even last seven.”
“Try me,” he challenges, and you still can’t take him seriously despite the fire in his eyes. “I’ve lasted a lot more than that as your roommate, right?”
“But that’s—this is—this is different! Be for real, Kook.” You vacate the island and head to your room, having enough of his teasing for one morning.
But you get stopped at the doorway, a bare chest and chains blocking your vision and sending your mind into a frenzy. When you flick your gaze to his face, he simply says, with the straightest expression,
“I am.”
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tbc. :))
🦋 soooo how do we feel !! | wanna be tagged? 🩵
a/n: yeah idk what happened to me. one moment i was saying i wasn't gonna get bitten by the seven bug, and the next.. well. this happened lol. anyway! taglist is on a form so that i can easily keep track of who to tag. pls make sure to either tell me ur age in the survey or to have it on your blog bc i check all entries when tagging. prologue is already written and will be up soon!
++
⇥ masterlist
#bts fic#bts imagines#bts reactions#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts smut#*ryenfictalk#ryenwrites#*latest#teasers#bts fanfic#jjk fic#7days
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Unraveled 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)
Note: thanks for waiting on this one.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.
Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.
“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”
You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.
You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.
“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”
“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”
“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.
“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”
“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.
“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”
Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.
“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.
“I need only see your sister,” you insist.
“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.
“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”
“Thank you, sir.”
You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.
He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.
You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.
“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.
He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”
You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.
“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.
You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.
“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”
You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.
“I told you, I’m busy--”
“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”
She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”
“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”
She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”
“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.
“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”
You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.
“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”
“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.
You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.
“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”
You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”
“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”
You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”
“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”
You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.
You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.
“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”
“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.
“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”
You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”
“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.
You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”
“If you insist,” she pouts.
You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.
-🪡
When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.
Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.
“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”
You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”
“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”
You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”
“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”
“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”
“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”
“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.
“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”
“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.
“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”
“I’m--”
You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.
“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”
He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.
“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.
“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”
You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.
Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.
When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”
You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.
Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.
He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.
You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.
“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”
You nod, uncertain of a proper response.
“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”
“Suppose not,” you reply dully.
“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”
“A spinster?” You supply.
“I didn’t--”
“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”
“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”
“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”
He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”
“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”
He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”
#sherlock holmes#dark sherlock holmes#dark!sherlock holmes#sherlock holmes x reader#unraveled#enola holmes#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series
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Hi! I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.
Imagine Astarion walking in to see his s/o, only to see them on their knees groaning and looking uncomftarble, because of Haarlep and his promise. ”Everytime I make love with your body, you will know.”
Maybe Astarion could like try to comfort s/o through one of those times? Not in a sexual way, just doing his best to show that he’s there, maybe throwing a comment to distract them ”pretend it’s me.”
If you’re uncomftarble with this you can ignore it! Have a nice day/night!😊
I used they/them pronouns for Haarlep when applicable because the Narrator refers to them this way
References and dialogue taken from a scene in the game, transcribed by yours truly
Warnings: rape/non-con elements, swearing, crying, reference to victim blaming, references to past trauma/abuse
Word Count: 1,031
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It comes on like a violent shiver. You can feel hands all over you, tracing up and down your legs and chest, but you’re all alone in your tent. You try to ignore it, focus on a book or something. Anything. But it’s overwhelming. Haarlep is using your body to pleasure someone else and you can feel it all. Maybe for Raphael it was incredible - another layer of pleasure to heighten the experience. To you, it’s violating.
You curl into yourself, tugging your knees to your chest as you sit on the floor, and hiding your face from the lamp light. If you could curl up tight enough, maybe you could block it all out. It’s a useless attempt. You know nothing can stop it.
“Darling, you’re going to miss… Shit.” Astarion rushes to your side, the flap of the tent shutting out the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he should touch you, where he should touch you. But you’re shaking, and whimpering, and he wants more than anything to help. “Can I touch you?”
You lift your face from your knees, nodding as a groan tears from your throat. It should feel good, but it doesn’t. You want to squirm and dive into water and roll in the dirt - anything to get rid of the ghostly hands on your skin.
He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him. His touch is more solid. He’s not a phantom taking pleasure in your image. You sigh with how real he feels. He brushes his fingers through your hair. “It’s the incubus, isn’t it?” he whispers by your ear. You nod and grab onto his arm. Your hands are trembling. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
“I can feel it, Astarion,” you gasp. You press your face into his chest. “Everything. Hands, just, all over me.” You can’t bear to speak out loud what else you feel. He can tell when your legs press tightly together.
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
Your mind is blank. You can’t think. You don’t know. You squirm closer to him and he draws your body into his lap, pressing his cheek to your head. He tries to be more firm in his touches. He scratches lightly at your scalp, tugs gently at the hairs at the nape of your neck. His hand runs up and down your arm, stopping only to press his fingertips against different locations that follow no consistent pattern. He can feel your tears against his skin, and he wishes more than anything to have killed that creature when they had the chance.
“Keep talking,” you whimper. A violent chill forces its way down your spine and you groan against his skin to avoid being too loud. He can’t imagine what the others would think or say.
When this happened before, it was in public. You couldn’t avoid it then, couldn’t rush somewhere private away from public eyes, and they scolded you. Told you to be quiet, teased you about liking it. It made his blood boil just thinking about it. It hadn’t been this bad then - the sound you made wasn’t out of disgust or discomfort.
“I know what it’s like to lose control over your own body. It’s a wretched thing.”
“I may as well just try to enjoy it.”
“I thought the same, once. It didn’t last. I know what’s done is done - you made your vow. But I’m sorry all the same.”
“Please,” you cry. “Please talk to me.”
He hushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “It’s going to be okay, my dear. You’re going to get through this. And once these damn tadpoles are out of our heads, we’re marching right back to Avernus and killing that bastard.”
You chuckle, weak and wet, but it’s better than hearing you suffer. “Promise?”
“Do you even have to ask? I’d march down there tomorrow if we could.” He moves his hand from your arm to your leg. He rubs circles into your thigh with his thumb, applying various amounts of pressure as he does. Quietly, unsure, he whispers into your hair, “Can you pretend it’s me?”
He’s not sure if he wants you to, truthfully. But he’s willing to carry that weight if it means easing your suffering. It’s a sentimental thought, but it doesn’t last long as you shake your head. “They don’t touch me like you do.” There’s an edge of teasing in your voice, trying to make it a joke, but it doesn’t quite land.
“Good.” He wants to say something more, but nothing comes to mind. He’s almost… proud. Definitely possessive. If that incubus and whoever they're bedding now doesn’t know how to touch you in all the ways you enjoy, then Astarion won’t feel bad when he touches you. He would hate to ruin intimacy for you because Haarlep touches you the same way.
Your legs shake and you hold onto him desperately, wrapping an arm around him to dig your fingers into his back. You try not to dig too deep, try not to hurt him, even in your torture. It breaks his heart. A sound bubbles in the back of your throat, agonized and lewd. With just one touch of your hand to his cheek, he knows precisely what you’re asking for, and he captures your mouth with his own. It’s not romantic or sweet. It’s teeth clashing and swallowing every loud noise that would be louder if he pulled away. It’s offering you a final comfort as Haarlep desecrates you.
As your legs stop shaking, the phantom touches on your body fading, you kiss him softer, until you feel safe enough to pull away. You don’t hide your face again; you press your forehead to his. Your cheeks are flushed and stained with tears. He continues to play with your hair as he wipes them away.
“Thank you,” you whisper. A sob rises from your chest. “I’m sorry.”
He shushes you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and wrapping his arms around you. “It’s okay, my love. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You’re okay.”
---
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KINKTOBER DAY THREE
October 8 -- Begging
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author's note: this was supposed to be mutual masturbation, but I wasn't feeling it, so I switched it to begging. Thank you again for everyone reading and supporting. 💕💕💕 If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know! 🎃🎃🎃
summary: Spencer can't help but be upset with the choice you made, so he takes out his frustration in your hotel room later.
warnings: female reader, dom!spencer, begging, a little bit of 'good girl', hand job, fingering, female receiving oral, multiple orgasms
word count: 3.6k
this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!
His eyes flick over to you, and you can read him like a book. The anger and frustration battle across his features as he opens his mouth to argue against your suggestion. You speak before he can, “I know this is dangerous, but I trust all of you to keep me safe. We have to do this.” Spencer slams his mouth shut and forcefully turns his head from you. Your stomach drops, but you know you’re making the right decision. This case will be over in a couple of hours, and then you can talk this out with him, and everything will be fine.
If anyone notices Spencer’s reaction, they don’t say anything. Instead, most of the team looks at you with worried expressions. Hotch is assessing you, his arms crossed tight over his broad chest. “This guy is erratic and unpredictable.” He says in his calm and calculated tone.
“He’s going to attack tonight. We know that this vigil is going to draw him. He can’t resist it. All I need to do is distract him long enough for you to move in.” You explain rationally. “We can’t allow more people to die, and I’m the only one who hasn’t been identified as an agent by the media.”
You refuse to break eye contact with Hotch. You steady your breathing and straighten your shoulders. You’re confident in this choice, and Hotch knows you won’t back down. He nods, “okay.”
“Okay?” Spencer interjects, his voice breaking slightly from his heightened emotion. “You can’t be serious, Hotch.”
“This is her choice.” Hotch answers, and everyone in the room seems to hold their breath as they wait for you to reply.
Hotch clears his throat, “let’s get started. We’ve got four hours until the vigil.”
You level your gaze at Spencer, trying to telepathically tell him you’re sorry. “I have to do this.” Spencer’s jaw sets hard. You see the muscles flex against each other. He turns away from you and leaves the room.
“He’s just worried. We all are.” Emily reaches out for you and rubs a comforting hand up and down your arm. You nod.
You don’t see Spencer again until you’re in the SUV five blocks away from the site of the vigil. Morgan had spent the entire ride over repeating the plan to you and making sure you understood exactly where everyone else was going to be. You kept nodding and letting him start over again because you knew that this was how Morgan made himself feel better about the situation. Before he got out of the vehicle, he had reached over to the passenger seat and grasped your shoulder. “You’re brave. And you’re damn good at your job. We’ll catch this bastard.”
Now you’re alone, glancing at the watch on your wrist. In ten minutes, you’re going to get out of the car and walk toward the vigil. It’s chilly enough that you have a jacket on, and it doesn’t even look like you’re wearing a vest underneath your clothing. You let out a shaky breath and try to calm your nerves.
You jump when the passenger door swings open and you reach for your holster automatically. “It’s me.” Spencer says, and you take your hand away.
“You’re supposed to already be at the vigil.” You mutter and look straight ahead out the windshield because you can’t look at him. You can’t handle seeing any sort of anger on his face.
“I know.” He says your name, and you turn to face him. The anger in his eyes has dissipated, and only fear remains.
“Spencer, I’ll be –” You start, but you’re interrupted by his hands grabbing the side of your face and pulling you in for a kiss. It’s forceful and meaningful, and your hands find a tight grip on his shoulders. The two of you say goodbye to each other with your lips and tongues, neither one of you wanting to break apart, to face reality.
Finally, he pulls away from you and sets his hands on your shoulders. “Be safe. Please.”
You incline your head toward his, connecting your forehead to his. “I will.”
He kisses you again, with less force, but with the same meaning, and then steps away and closes the car door. You watch as he walks down the alley until he completely disappears. And then a few minutes later, you get out and walk the opposite direction down the alley.
Your hotel room is dark, and only the lights on the nightstand work, but you’re too exhausted to complain. After wrapping the case, Hotch had told everyone to head to the hotel for a few hours, and you would fly out in the morning. No one argued because you hadn’t even seen your hotel room since landing.
You’ve taken a shower, changed into pajamas, and started to get comfortable in bed when there’s a knock on your door. You climb out of bed and look through the peephole to see Spencer standing in the hallway. Quickly, you open the door and step aside for him to come inside. As soon as you shut the door and turn around, he has his hands on you, your waist, your hips, shaky hands traveling across your skin.
“I’m okay, Spencer. Not even a scratch. I’m fine.” You reassure him with a calm and steady voice. He doesn’t stop his hands and won’t look you in the eyes, so you reach out for him. Your own hands hold onto both sides of his face and force him to look into your eyes. “I’m fine.” You repeat.
He swallows and nods and blinks away the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “Don’t do that again, please.”
You know you can’t promise that, but you also know that Spencer doesn’t want to hear that right now. “Okay.” He kisses your cheek. “Okay.” He kisses your other cheek and then your forehead and, finally, your lips. His hands on your hips pull you tighter against him like he can’t have you close enough, like he wants the two of you to merge together as one person. Your hands move up into his hair, fingers tangling into soft locks, nails scratching against his scalp. His moan vibrates against your lips, and he deepens the kiss. His grip on your hips is vice-like. You groan into his mouth.
He mumbles your name, and you answer with a moan, suddenly desperate for every part of him. The stress of the day comes to a head, and you just want your mind to go blank. Spencer is the only person who can make your brain stop its constant ruminations.
“Please, Spencer.” You urge him with your words, but also a quick movement of your hips against him. You move your hands away from his hair and down the back of his neck toward his clavicle and then start to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.
You only get one button undone before he says, “stop.” He breaks away from your lips, and his hands wrap around both of your wrists and pull your hands off of his shirt. When you look into his eyes, the anger is back, not as fiery and passionate as it was hours before but low and simmering just below the surface. “You think you just get what you want after that?”
His voice is heavy with emotion, and it zings straight to your lower belly. You want to smile, but press your lips together instead and shake your head.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t give you anything tonight, huh?” He moves one of your wrists into his other hand so that he has both of them wrapped in one hand. The hand that's now free moves to your neck, a finger trailing down to your clavicle. You swallow against it. “I should leave this room right now. Leave you all alone and so needy.”
You swallow again. “Spencer, please.”
He lifts your wrists above your head and pushes you up against the door of the hotel room in rapid succession. You let out a sharp gasp at the movement. “Please, what? What do you want?” His other hand has found another place back on your hip, gripping it, his thumb rubbing back and forth on a bit of skin peeking out from your old Academy t-shirt.
“Please don’t leave.” You whisper. The hand on your hip slides underneath your shirt and up your stomach toward your breasts. His fingertips are barely there against your skin, enough to make your skin tingle, and goosebumps bloom, but not enough to satiate any need for his touch.
He drags one of his fingers across the underside of your breast, and your hands twitch in his grasp above your head. He twists his grip and tightens it.
The hand near your breast spreads across your breast and grabs it. You arch your back into his touch. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”
“Yes. I need it.” You don’t even attempt to play coy and press your thighs together, trying to get any sort of relief between them.
Spencer ducks his head against your exposed neck and kisses it roughly, nips at it without leaving a mark, and then licks and soothes where his teeth nibbled. “Are you going to listen?”
You nod before realizing that you need to answer verbally. “Yes. Yes. I will. I promise.”
He laughs against your neck. His breaths on your skin make you press your thighs tighter together. “You’re going to do as you’re told.” It isn’t a question.
“Yes.” You confirm.
His lips find yours again, and the hand up your shirt tightens on your breast, his thumb finding your nipple, teasing it back and forth. He kisses you slowly, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth and then racing to brush his tongue against it. A constant tug of war between a ping of pain and a rush of comfort. You take all of it, anything he is willing to give you, you want all of it.
When his thumb and pointer finger takes your nipple and rolls it between a pinch of his fingers, you let out a desperate noise.
“Spencer.”
He makes a deep noise from the back of his throat but doesn’t stop kissing you or pinching your nipple. A pulse all of its own begins in your core, fluttery and demanding.
“I’ll do anything, please.” He bites at your clavicle, the only place he’s marked you so far because he knows it will be covered by your shirt in the morning.
“You’re going to leave your hands above your head, do you understand?” He finally instructs.
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to touch me.”
“Spencer,” you start to protest, but you look into his eyes and stop yourself.
“You touch me, and I stop. Do you understand?”
You swallow. “Yes.”
“Good.” He goes back to your neck, teasing and tasting your skin, driving you crazy with want. But you don’t dare move. If he pulls away completely now and leaves, you think you might lose your mind.
In between his soft bites, he instructs, “I’m going to let go of your wrists, okay? But you’re not going to move them. Leave them exactly where they are. And then I’m going to get on my knees and make you come as many times as I want. But if you touch me at all, I’m going to go back to my hotel room and leave you here all alone. Okay?”
“Okay.” You nod feverishly. He lets go of your wrists, and you don’t move a muscle.
He smiles smugly and pinches your nipple one last time before sliding down to his knees in front of you. His fingers graze up the back of your calves and thighs and then to the front of your thighs. He pushes your legs apart, and you lean back further on the door for support as he pulls down your pajama pants, leaving your underwear on.
“Look at you,” he tuts. “Soaking through your panties just from a couple of kisses.”
You let out a frustrated breath. “It was more than a couple kisses.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and you slam your mouth shut. “Are you going to waste my time? Talking back with that smart mouth?”
“No.”
“I can think of better uses for that mouth. You can’t talk back with my cock down your throat, can you?”
You swallow harshly, and you feel yourself getting wetter. “No, I can’t.”
He leans forward, and you hold your breath, waiting, but he kisses your inner thigh instead. And then he starts the same pattern of kissing and nipping he’d done earlier, but now on your thigh. His hands are on your ass, massaging and rubbing. As he moves to your other thigh, he makes a point to incline toward the place you need him so desperately, but he only exhales across it. You whimper, and you feel the turn of a smile on his lips as he presses into your thigh.
It is basically torture, and it’s taking every single ounce of self control you have not to grab his head and put him exactly where you want him. You know you can’t, so you beg instead, “please, Spencer. I can’t take the teasing anymore.”
“Aw, my poor baby.” He taunts, and you grunt when he pulls away completely and removes his hands. He sits back on his heels and looks up at you. “Take off your shirt.”
You do what he asks rapidly and then put your hands back above your head without him asking. He smiles, “good girl.”
The room is dim, shadows play across his face, but he watches you as you breathe, your breasts rising and falling. He lifts hands and presses his palms up your stomach and then back down, causing more goosebumps springing up across your skin, toward your core, but he bypasses it and travels down your thighs instead. “I think you’ve ruined these panties, baby.” He laughs, mesmerized by the growing wet spot. Your clit is throbbing and you feel like you could fall apart with only one single touch from him.
“What would you do if I stopped now?” He wraps his hands across your thighs and squeezes and then looks up to your eyes. “Stood up and walked out of this room?”
You would probably spend the rest of your night touching yourself until you couldn’t handle it, but you don’t want that. “Please don’t.” You reply instead. “Please touch me, Spencer.”
He squeezes your thighs again. “I am touching you.”
You groan, frustrated. “Touch my pussy, please. I need it.” You give in. He can’t help his smile as he moves one hand over slightly and uses his thumb to touch the wet spot on your underwear. He presses into you over the fabric. It’s only the tip of the iceberg, but you moan anyway because you’re so desperate.
He presses deeper, wetting his thumb through the fabric, and then moves it upward, finally rubbing over your throbbing clit. You let out a shaky breath and lean forward slightly. His thumb rubs up and down on your clit lightly, practically a feather-like touch. He doesn’t use any pressure on it. You move your hips forward, trying to force some pressure, but just pulls away.
“Spencer.” You whimper.
He laughs, “so whiney.” He puts his thumb back and continues in the exact same way as before. You lean back fully back on the door with a small cry. “Do you want to come?” He asks.
You screw your eyes shut and nod furiously.
“Open your eyes and answer me.”
You force your eyes open. “I want to come, please, Spencer.” You try to get rid of the whine in your voice, but you don’t succeed.
“Yeah, I can tell you do.” He uses just a little more pressure on your clit and begins to circle it. You shiver and let out a pitiful moan. “So needy. So desperate.” He mutters and leans forward to kiss along your thigh again. Your hips buck against him involuntarily. “You can come whenever you want, baby.”
“I need more.”
“No.” He kisses your thigh again and looks up to your eyes. “You come from this.” You curl your toes on the floor and push your head back. “I’ll give you more when you come.” His thumb continues its barely enough circles on your clit and you exhale. “Don’t you want more?”
“Yes!” You huff.
“Then come.” He nips your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to your clenching pussy, but never actually reaching it. His other hand moves back to your ass and he kisses your other thigh. You can feel the deep pleasure at the base of your spine and you give yourself over to it. “That’s it, so good, baby. Come just like this.”
You come hard and force your hands to stay above your head, your hips bucking against Spencer’s hand. He moves his hand from your ass and holds onto your hip to stay your movements. Once you come down from your high he pulls down your underwear and sticks his thumb into your pussy.
“You're dripping, baby.” He murmurs and fingers you for a few seconds until swiping the thumb back up to your clit. You’ve barely had time to recover from your first orgasm and you let out a small breathy shout. “Ssshh, we can’t let anyone else hear how needy you are.”
You bit your lip to contain your whimpers. Spencer’s thumb circles your clit, using the pressure you need. Another wave of pleasure is already rising, gathering low in your belly. “Do you want my fingers, baby?”
“Please. Spencer. Yes. I need them. Please.” You ramble.
He takes the hand that’s on your hip and inserts his middle and ring fingers into you, immediately pressing into you, rubbing against the spot inside you that makes you want to scream. You swallow the shout that you can’t let out and instead continue to ramble to Spencer. Your legs shake as you give into another wave of pleasure.
“That’s it, give me another one. So good, baby.” You come against his hand again, but this time Spencer doesn’t let you come down from it. Instead, he moves the hand off your clit and grips your hip to hold you in place as his mouth replaces his hand. You ride his tongue through the aftershocks of your orgasm and let the next wave begin to crest. His fingers never falter as he fingers you. He pulls away for only a split second, “touch me.”
Your hands fall from the door instantly and tangle in his hair, grasping and scratching, finally getting to push him harshly into you. He moans against you, sending vibrations up your body. You come one more time with a small shout, as quiet as you can. Your legs are shaky and unstable, but Spencer holds you tightly as he takes his time licking you clean.
When he stands up to his full height, you pull him into a kiss and then lower your hands down to his belt. He breaks the kiss, “I don’t have a condom.”
You kiss him and continue to take off his belt. “I don’t care.” You get his belt undone, unbuckle his pants, and reach in to take him in your hand. He’s unbelievably hard. The feeling of him is so heavy in your hand.
He puts his hands on your shoulders as he takes a shuddering breath. “You should care. We haven’t talked about this yet. And you’re in the heat of the moment.” He rationalizes.
You stick out your bottom lip because you know he’s right. “Can we talk about it later? Cause I want you, all of you.” You squeeze the base of him. His eyes flutter shut and then flip back open as he licks his bottom lip.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk about it.” Then he kisses you again as you pump your hand up and down on him, your thumb swiping at his leaking head. “Oh shit. Don’t stop.” He stutters against your lips. His kisses are sloppy and nothing like his calculated kisses earlier, but you don’t care. He’s pumping his hips into you, so completely lost in the feeling of your hand on him.
It doesn’t take long until he’s moaning into your mouth, “so good. You’re so good,” he rambles. One of his hands reaches for your hair and pulls your head back so he can look into your eyes. You bite your bottom lip, and he comes in his pants with a harsh grunt.
He kisses you, and you keep moving your hand until he’s hissing from sensitivity and pulling away from you.
The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you back into a deep kiss until you're both breathless. You subtly wipe your hand on his underwear because they’re already a mess, and then both hands hold onto his waist until his kisses slow down.
“I’m sorry for being angry.” He finally says.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. I guess today, technically. But at home, I mean.” He looks into your eyes, searching.
He nods. “Okay.” And he kisses you again, light and feathery. “I need to go clean up before we leave.”
Your fingers play with the edge of his pants. “Or you could stay, and I could clean you up.” You offer with a not so innocent smile.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He kisses you chastely and pulls away. He looks around for your shirt and pants and then helps you get dressed again. “See you on the jet.”
You step away from the door and let him leave. In a few hours, you’ll have to board the jet and pretend that the genius profiler on your team didn’t just give you three mind blowing orgasms, so for now you allow yourself to watch him walk down the hotel hallway. He scrambles to buckle his belt as he walks and then runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. You go back into your room with a smile.
tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#kinktober#kinktober 2023#my writing
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getting saved by an underground hero but he’s pretty
imagine you’re walking home one night and there’s a villain attack nearby. somehow you wind up in a villain’s arms, their hand clamped over your mouth with your back to their chest. they’re using you as collateral to get what they want, and you’re terrified that this person might actually hurt you.
then out of the darkness, a man jumps down silently from the top of a building in all black, eyes glowing red through his goggles and long, dark hair floating as he makes his way toward you. you’ve never seen or heard of him, but the villain behind you curses.
it happens so fast you almost don’t see it; a long, thin scarf comes flying your direction and you panic, screwing your eyes shut as it misses you entirely. a fight breaks out. you wind up getting shoved to the ground in the process with a bloody scratch on your cheek. soon, the villain is tied up and on the ground with the hero’s boot on his chest. the glow in his eyes fades as he pulls off his goggles. messy hair falls down around his shoulders. he’s contacting authorities and heroes for backup to take care of the offender under his foot. you move to stand, but he catches you in his peripheral.
“stay where you are. there may be others nearby,” he says.
so you stay. in a few minutes time, he’s kneeling down next to you as you pull away.
“it’s alright. my name’s eraser head. i’m an underground hero. are you injured anywhere else?” he looks exhausted and stern with red lining the whites of his baggy eyes, but there’s a softness to his deep voice as though he’s trying not to scare you.
“n-no. i fell pretty hard, but i’m okay,” you reply.
eraser head reaches out with a hand to examine your cheek, pulling out a few small items from somewhere on his hero costume to clean up your face.
“you’re lucky i was nearby. the hero on patrol was several blocks away. you shouldn’t be out alone in this part of the city this late at night,” he says. his fingers are gentle as he takes you by the chin and cleans the blood off your face.
your neck flushes. “s-sorry, mr. eraser head. i was on my way home.”
the corner of his mouth curls up at the formalization of his hero name. “it’s just eraser head, sweetheart. relax, you’re safe now. we’ll make sure you get home.”
“thank you, sir.” you’re trying not to stare at him as he works, but it’s almost hard to look away.
he can’t be much older than you if at all, maybe a few years at most. there’s a scar under his right eye and scruff on his chin and cheeks. his face is near expressionless as the small smile fades from his lips. he looks into your eyes, making it known that you’re staring. a flush blooms across your features and you quickly avert your gaze. you don’t see it, but another smile pulls on his lips.
“all done.” he offers you a hand to stand. “wait here.”
eraser head walks over to an officer for a brief moment and exchanges a few words out of earshot. with his scarf now back on his neck, he turns around and walks to you with his hands in his pockets and the slightest hint of a grin.
“i’ll walk you home. let’s go.”
if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡
gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @citysweet @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @anonymously-ominous @hisconsistency @amberexe2
#would aizawa casually call a civilian sweetheart? heck no but it’s my fic and i want it so ����#not me dreaming abt a damsel in distress trope with my fav fictional hero#ugh soft hero aizawa just does smth to me#another early morning drabble with no edits#bnha#mha#x reader#f!reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa shota#aizawa x reader#aizawa fluff#eraserhead#eraser head#bakubunny#mdni
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Fandom: One Piece
Going through my One Piece scribbles to do a final clean up before FF7 takes over my life from probably tonight and found this one that was me playing around with trying to match the more silly tone One Piece can get.
Law is used entirely as a convenient outsider POV.
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Tags: omegaverse, mpreg, accidental pregnancy
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“Are you kidding me!? Again!?”
Law makes a point of trying to ignore the Strawhats’ antics as he travels with them. Strawhat’s crew is as insane as their captain is and often loudly bicker amongst themselves seemingly just to give Law a headache.
The shrillness of Nami’s voice and way Blackleg practically prostrates himself at her side in pathetic submission has him tuning in.
“What happened?” The Strawhat’s sniper asks as the rest of the crew’s attention is drawn onto the situation as well.
“Sanji’s pregnant. Again,” Nami informs them as Blackleg lets out a pathetic whimper that would perhaps be more worrisome if it wasn’t the exact same candor as the one he gave when the strawberries he was using the previous night for desert weren’t large enough for him to carve into perfect flowers for the girl’s. Law doesn’t try and understand why a man who would happily kick anyone’s head in if they suggested he may be less for being an omega immediately breaks out the keens and whimpers associated with his designation at the first sign of any even slight offence to the women on his ship.
The navigator’s offence is deserved from Law’s perspective. While they had hidden them well the fact of him travelling on the ship with them had necessitated he be introduced to the two other children that had resulted from the unique relationship between swordsman and cook of the Strawhat crew.
“Woohoo! New crew member!” Strawhat himself crows, completely missing the gravity of travelling with a pregnant omega aboard.
Although considering they had already successfully done it at least once before Law supposes the confidence is somewhat justified.
Strawhat rattles off his list of demands following the exciting news. A feast the first, most detailed, and apparently most important, among them.
Not that much attention is being paid to him. Nami still standing with her hands on her hips looking at Blackleg expectantly.
“It’s not my fault my m- the only option I’m stuck with for my heats is a mossy brute!” Blackleg justifies. And Law is sure they all caught the slip in his words. And all know exactly what he was about to say.
Despite the two – soon to be three – children they share and the fact the world knows them as the Monster Mates of the Strawhat pirates, both Blackleg and Zoro’s necks stay bare of a mating bite.
“I didn’t do anything you didn’t ask for,” Zoro says from where he had been napping on the ship. He had had their youngest asleep with him but the boy had woken up with Strawhat’s excitement, running off to join the noise.
Blackleg glares at his not-mate and Zoro moves to quickly block the foot aimed at his gut for it.
“It’s your stupid knot that keeps breaking the condoms,” Sanji says, driving his heel into the sword Zoro has blocking him.
“It’s your fucked up fertility that keeps getting pregnant so easily,” Zoro snaps back, pushing against the food driving down onto him.
“Enough,” Nami says, before they can go into any details of how they managed to conceive three children together. Her hand coming up to massage her temple.
#One Piece#zosan#roronoa zoro#zoro x sanji#vinsmoke sanji#One Piece mpreg#mpreg#One Piece omegaverse#omegaverse#I accidently a ficlet
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The Promise-Andy Biersack
*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*
Pairings: Andy Biersack x OFC
Warnings: smut, language, angst(lots of it), a smidge of fluff, mentions of abuse, alcoholism.
Summary: High school was supposed to be some of the best years of a teenager's life; except for River. Those four years were hell, the only one that got her through it was her best friend, Andy. She thought he'd be by her side after graduation but after one night of giving each other something so treasured, life took both of them in different directions.
Almost ten years later, River and Andy meet again in a way neither of them expected.
Authors Note: This is my first time writing Andy Biersack but I'm very excited! As of now, it is a one-shot but might consider continuing it if people are interested!
Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @concreteangel92 @flowery-mess @cookiesupplier @poppy-in-the-woods @viofcrows @sprokat @srorgana1 @bloody-delusion-expert
“You don’t ever have to be alone, River,” his soothing voice cooed in my ear as he cupped my cheek.
I looked up at him through the tears and choked on a sob. “Promise you’ll stay with me?”
He smiled that smile I fell in love with years ago. “I promise.”
The sounds of yelling pulled me out of my thoughts in time to see a group of teenagers running past me on the street, youthful smiles on their faces.
If they only knew what the future for them held.
With the setting sun grazing over the streets of Hollywood as people made their way home from school or work, I was headed to work with my camera bag hanging on my shoulder and phone in my hand. I had the Maps app up giving me directions where I needed to go. It was going to be a long night at work for this music video shoot and I was already on my third cup of coffee, the feeling of caffeine still not flowing through my system.
I spent the morning and afternoon bouncing between different shoots from clients and when I remembered I had booked this job taking pictures of a band's music video tonight, I cut the last photoshoot short by only a few minutes to make it in time.
The company that booked me for this video shoot, Industrialism Films, didn’t tell me much about who the band was. They just told me to show up at seven p.m. and start working as soon as I was set up. It was going to be an all-night event and I needed to make sure to get shots of everyone in the band.
Hence the third cup of coffee.
It also hadn't helped that my mind had been plagued with memories of high school even ten years after graduation. Usually, I was great at pushing away those awful memories but the last few nights, those images of my past life kept clawing at me, dragging me down to the depths. I spent so long trying to crawl out of it and breathe that fresh air I desperately craved those four years of hell.
The bullying.
Eating alone in the bathroom stalls.
The feeling of being so alone, I cried myself to sleep every night.
The desperation of my home being a haven away from the mocking at school, only to have it worse there.
Every single day of high school was miserable; except for one person.
Him.
My best friend and first everything; Andy.
Until he left you to deal with the beatings alone so he could succeed with his band.
Screwing my eyes shut tight to forget the sound of my dad's skin on mine, I turned the corner, and a large church and steps came into view. There were ropes blocked off around the perimeter, keeping outsiders away. As I reached a security guard, I pulled out my I.D. to show him.
“River Murray. I’m the photographer,” I said.
The guard glanced down to my I.D. then to the list in his hands and with a gruff of response, he let me walk past the ropes.
“Have a great night,” I mumbled under my breath.
Bodies were moving everywhere, and people were screaming over one another, but I was able to find the director of the shoot pretty quickly. He showed me a trailer where I could set up my things and once I was settled, I could start working. They didn’t care what pictures I shot, just as long as I got a lot of the band.
“Who’s the band?” I asked Vincent, the director while setting my camera bag on the table inside the trailer.
“Bloody veils? No that’s not right,” he scratched at the beard on his chin, trying to remember. “I don’t know. It's some metal band. I’ve only met them once before but they’re nice guys. It’s for their song Saviour II.”
I nodded. “So I have free reign around here? As long as I don’t get in the shot right?”
Vincent smiled. “You’ve worked on music video shoots before?”
“Once or twice,” I shrugged. “I worked with Bad Omens on one and some local bands another time.”
“Bad Omens?” He whistled low. “They’re one of the hottest bands right now. I’m surprised you aren't working with them.”
“I dated their current photographer for a few months. He set up the shoot with them to help build up my portfolio,” I shifted on my feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable divulging too much about my life to this stranger.
A loud crackle and static came through Vincent’s radio. “Veil Brid-. They’re here.”
My heart stuttered in my chest for the briefest of moments but told myself to take a breath. It couldn’t be him; the radio cut off before finishing who was here, I was just in my head.
“You’re beautiful, River,” he mused while kissing every inch of my bruised skin.
Vincent clapped his hands which caused me to jump out of my thoughts and blinked wildly.
“Alright, I’ve got to meet the boys and show them their trailers to get ready. Head out whenever you’re ready. There’s a radio for you on the table in case we need to communicate with you tonight.”
“Sure,” I did my best to nod with a smile.
Once alone, I sat on the couch in the trailer and went about assembling my camera, doing a few test shots. The past kept trying to crawl its way back into the present, doing its best to render me useless, but I wouldn’t allow it.
Well, I tried to anyway.
“You’re worthless.”
“Piece of shit daughter. I should have dropped you off with your mother years ago.”
“The only thing you’re good for is being a punching bag. But you can’t even do that right.”
A swift kick to my ribs sent me flying across the room.
Choking on a sob, I dug my palms into my eyes hoping that would force out those thoughts.
“I haven’t thought of Dad in years but now he’s overtaking every part of me again,” I sighed to myself.
Not feeling quite ready to leave the trailer yet, I fixed myself in the reflection of the mirror by tying my long black hair into a tight French braid and cleaned up my makeup a bit. The scar underneath my right eye was faint but visible to this day almost eleven years later. No matter how much makeup I wore to cover it, it was still a reminder of not only the best day of my life but also the worst day.
“River, we need you on set.”
“Be right there,” I said into the radio before clicking it to the belt of my jeans, and with my camera around my neck, I bounded down the steps of the trailer.
By now the sun had set and the moon shone overhead so I stopped in my tracks for a moment to take a few shots of it before walking into the church where there was a large gathering of people. On the altar of the church were a set up of drums, guitars, an orchestra, and a microphone stand.
After snapping a picture of it, I turned on my heels when I heard Vincent call my name.
“River, I’d like you to meet the band. I figured you’d want to get some pictures of them before we start shooting.”
I looked over the picture I had just taken of the drum set, something vaguely familiar about the logo, but then glanced up at the five men standing in front of me; the one in the middle with the bright gray eyes immediately catching my gaze.
My breath caught in my throat as I nearly tripped over my feet when his jaw went slack, the familiarity slapping both of us in the face.
“River?”
The richness of his voice brought back all of those other memories I did my best to push away. I stood frozen, unable to move or say anything, while my brain tried to catch up on the man that stood in front of me; the one I hadn’t seen in ten years.
The one that broke his promise.
“Andy.”
Highschool. Senior year. One week before graduation.
I pounded on the bedroom window as the rain assaulted me with no end in sight, drenching me from head to toe. The rain mixed with the salty tears that rolled down my cheeks as I continued to beat my palm against the glass while standing on the makeshift ladder we made of three cinder blocks. I needed a way to reach his window in times like this. There was no way I could walk through his front door looking like this where his parents could see and ask questions.
“Damn it, Andy! Wake up!” I cried, still pounding on the window.
The storm was a constant onslaught of rain, lightning, and thunder, so I knew it was hard for him to hear me. But that didn’t stop me.
Finally, after a few minutes of crying and pounding on the window, Andy’s sleep-filled eyes stared at me through the curtain covering his window. I saw all the emotions run through his intense gaze.
Confusion.
Realization.
And when he gave my face one long once over, the emotion that crossed the soft features of his face, I knew there was no way I’d be able to excuse my dad’s actions this time.
Anger.
“River,” his voice instantly soothing me when he opened the window, helping me inside. “What the fuck happened?”
My body convulsed in shivers and I wrapped my arms around me to help keep some of my body heat.
“I–I-I’m fi-fine,” my teeth chattered loudly in the quiet room.
“Bullshit,” Andy spat while running a hand through his long black hair. “You’ve got a nasty cut under your eye and your lip is busted.”
Now with the rain not washing away the blood, I could taste the bitter crimson on my lips and felt it pooling in my eye. I didn’t have to look at myself to know that the cut was deep and needed stitches.
Typically, my dad made sure to hit me in places that I could easily hide. But tonight was different. I told him that once I graduated, I had plans to leave Ohio and move to North Carolina to start over; fresh.
“Not with my money,” he spat.
Literally.
When I told him I didn’t need his money and that I had other plans, he snorted while stubbing out his cigarette.
“With that little boyfriend of yours? Sweety, he’ll drop you the second you follow him to that big fancy city.”
“Fuck you!” I screamed. “You know nothing about Andy!”
My cursing set him off and that's when the first slap happened, causing my busted lip. This time, I fought back, but in the end, it didn’t matter. My dad’s strength overpowered me as he threw me across the floor, face skidding along some of the broken glass from the cup I had thrown at him before.
Hence the nasty cut underneath my eye.
Andy’s sighing brought me back and I then noticed he was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I’d seen him like this many times before since we were best friends but something about seeing him like this tonight, made my insides burn low.
I’d had a crush on him since freshman year when he stepped between me and Alexa Dread from taking my camera and breaking it; again. Ever since that day, Andy and I were inseparable. We knew everything about each other and we always confided in each other about our feelings.
Just not for each other.
My feelings for him began to grow with each passing day but I had to watch him date girls that weren’t me with a fake smile because I needed to be happy for my best friend.
He’d never feel the same way and that was something I came to terms with a while ago.
My eyes grazed over the scattered ink on his arms, the random designs always taking my breath away. He was eighteen so was able to get the tattoos without the permission of his parents.
I, however, was one month shy of turning eighteen and I’d been counting down the days. Ready to run from all of this the minute the clock struck midnight.
“Fuck, River. You’re shaking,” Andy’s hand reached for me, leading me to the adjacent bathroom off of his bedroom.
“I d-didn’t know wh-where el-se to go-go,” I did my best to speak over my body shaking.
He hushed me with a gentle squeeze of my hand. “You know you can always come here. You always have a place here, Riv.”
I swallowed thickly at his nickname for me.
“You need to shower but I want to clean that cut first,” he motioned towards the soaked clothes that were clinging to me like a second skin. “Take them off.”
I stilled at his words. While Andy had no problem walking around in his underwear around me, I, on the other hand, could not muster up that kind of courage.
“I can’t,” I shook my head.
His bright eyes narrowed through the thickness of his black hair. “Either you take those clothes off or I will. The last thing you need right now is to catch pneumonia.”
Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I still didn’t make a move, which caused Andy to sigh.
“I’ll turn around so you can undress, and keep your bra and underwear on. I’ll keep my face on yours when I clean your cut,” he reassured me with a gentle smile.
“Okay,” I said finally.
Before he turned around, Andy turned on the shower so the steam could fill the bathroom and keep me warm while he cleaned the cut. Staying true to his word, he turned his back to me, and as quick as I could, I ripped off the wet clothes. The sound it made falling to the tiled floor made me cringe and I covered myself with my arms.
My bra and underwear were not cute, nothing he’d seen his past girlfriends wear, so to say I was embarrassed was an understatement. A simple pair of black cotton panties and a red bra.
“You can turn around,” I said softly.
Andy slowly turned around and kept his eyes straight ahead on my face as he motioned to the closed toilet seat. While I sat, I watched his back muscles contort as he rummaged around underneath the sink for the first aid kit.
“Won't your parents wonder why you’re taking a shower at two in the morning?” I asked.
He snorted his laughter, still rummaging underneath the sink. “They would never question why their teenage son would be taking a shower in the middle of the night.”
“Huh?” I said, utterly confused.
Andy glanced up at me from his kneeling position with his brows raised and a playful smirk. Suddenly, it clicked on what he meant.
“Oh, right,” I muttered low; the image of his hand around his cock pumping it slowly then fast replaying in my mind like a movie.
I’d never seen him do that but I’d thought about it a handful of times.
“This might sting a bit,” Andy said, kneeling in front of me now; his eyes remaining on my face.
“I’ve had worse,” I tried to joke but the stern look from him made my shoulders fall and I muttered an apology.
“You need to leave home, River,” he said while soaking a cotton pad in peroxide.
I shook my head. “And go where? I have no money and no other relatives that will take me in.”
“You know my parents will let you stay in the guest room for as long as you need.”
I snorted. “Right. I don’t think your girlfriend would like the idea of me staying down the hall from you.”
Andy’s eyes snapped away from the cotton ball to my face. “We broke up.”
I did my best to keep a straight face when my heart nearly soared out of my chest.
“When?”
“The other day. She wanted to have sex and I said no so she broke up with me,” his voice told me that he wasn't upset about it.
My brows furrowed together. “You said no to sex with Ashley Jenks? You’re not sick are you?”
I made a play of touching his forehead with the back of my hand, our laughter echoing in the small bathroom.
“No,” he grabbed my hand, not letting it go right away. “I’m not going to give my virginity to the first girl that throws themself at me. Or in this case, the fourth.”
I blinked. “You’re still a virgin?”
Andy finally let go of my hand and I frowned at the loss of warmth.
“I know it’s shocking but call me old school. I’m waiting until I find the right person.”
Our eyes met in an intense battle of who would look away first but neither of us was faltering.
“I am too,” I said quietly.
For the briefest of moments, I saw his eyes widen before he played it off by holding up the soaked cotton ball.
“I’m sorry for the sting.”
I urged him on with a nod and didn’t even flinch when the cool liquid met my skin finally as Andy cleaned the cut on my cheek. Silence fell between us as he then cleaned the dried blood on my face and when his warm breath fanned over the cut to dry it, I nearly melted into him; skin rising with goosebumps.
“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he murmured while looking closely at the cut.
I sucked in a breath when I realized his lips were mere meters from mine and dared a glance down to his full lips. They were practically begging to be kissed and I wanted to be the one to do it.
“I’ll put a bandaid on it after my shower,” I said.
With me still sitting on the toilet and Andy kneeling in front of me, I spread my legs wide so he was able to get as close as he could to cleaning the cut. Now that he was finished, it was as if he had no idea where to place his hands so they rested on the wall behind me, his long body leaning over me.
“You’re not going back tonight, River,” his voice was deep as he stared down at me.
With shaking fingers, I brushed away the strands of hair from his face so I could see those gray eyes.
“I know.”
I tracked the movement of his Adam's apple as it bobbed low when he swallowed, his eyes finally grazing lower than my face. Down to the swell of my breasts and the slight pudge of skin around my stomach.
I wasn't the skinniest of girls, another reason why I was bullied, but Andy never commented on it.
“You should get in the shower,” his voice broke the trance between us. “Your lips are blue.”
When his finger ghosted over my mouth, I let out a soft moan desperately wanting to feel the pressure of his touch everywhere.
Suddenly like a ghost, Andy had vanished from the bathroom back into his bedroom, leaving me all alone. Since the door was now shut, I rose from the toilet and stripped out of my remaining clothes.
The hot water stung like a blade against my sore skin and I groaned out in pleasure. I didn’t want to take a long shower only because the water had already been running for a while before stepping beneath it. I washed away the memories of today with Andy’s soap and wrapped a towel around me after I stepped out of the shower.
“Shit, what am I supposed to wear?” I grumbled to myself.
Slowly opening the bathroom door, the light burst into Andy’s bedroom and lit up his form lounging on his bed reading a Batman comic.
“Andy,” I said while shuffling my feet and clutching the towel close to my chest. “I don’t have any clothes.”
Setting the comic down, he hopped off the bed and went across the room, opening the drawers of his dresser to pull out a pair of boxers and a shirt.
“We’ll swing by your house at some point tomorrow to grab you some clothes. You’ll stay here for the weekend,” he said while standing in front of me.
I took the clothes with one hand. “Thank you.”
Before in the bathroom, Andy made sure not to look at the bruises covering my skin but now, he made sure to take in every single one that he could see.
The fingers imprinted around my neck.
The bruise on my shoulder, left arm, and legs.
These were the ones that he could see. The ones underneath the towel around me were worse.
His jaw ticked with the anger he so desperately tried to keep within, knowing that one outburst from him would cause me to fall into myself.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I whispered.
Andy’s eyes were dark but his voice was gentle. “Let me see all of it.”
I vigorously shook my head. “I’m fine, Andy. I just want to get dressed and go to sleep.”
All at once, I felt my body being pressed up against the wall and the towel falling to the floor at my feet. Andy’s gaze ignited as he pressed his hips against mine causing a shockwave throughout my body. His clothed cock brushed along my bare clit and I let out a moan while my eyes fluttered shut.
“Riv.”
My eyes snapped open when I felt his hand cup my cheek. Tears burned at the corners and he gently wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.
“Please,” I begged. “Don’t look. They’re ugly. I’m ugly.”
The burning anger in his iris softened at my cries but still kept me locked in place against the wall with his hips.
“You’re beautiful, angel,” he admitted with a steady voice.
Angel.
It was Andy’s nickname for me ever since sophomore year when I dressed up as a fallen angel for Halloween. We were too old to go trick or treating but not cool enough for parties so we both decided to get dressed up and spend the night in his basement getting drunk.
It was also the night I had my first kiss. We were sitting on the couch in his basement, a few drinks in, and I had my head resting on Andy’s shoulder trying so hard to stay awake for the horror movie he put on. When I looked up at him, I was shocked to see that he was already staring at me and the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. It was a short kiss, over before I could enjoy it.
“Shit, sorry,” he apologized. “I drank too much.”
We never talked about that kiss after that night, both of us burying it away; much to my dismay.
“I’m not,” I cast my eyes away from him.
His warm breath fanned across the crook of my neck as he peppered kisses on the bruises there.
“Let me show you.”
Yet again our eyes locked with intensity, so fierce it set the space around us on fire. Andy’s hand moved down my cheek, over my neck, and the space between my breasts. I bit back a moan when his finger and thumb rolled one of my perked nipples between them.
“Will you let me show you?” He asked, nuzzling his face in my neck.
I licked my lips. “What about waiting for the right person?”
“She’s already in front of me,” Andy admitted before crashing his lips to mine.
My body had come alive with his touch and everything I wanted since freshman year was coming to fruition. Andy wanted me just as much as I wanted him. Our lips synced together perfectly, never missing a beat, as he lifted me and carried me to his bed.
That night, we both gave each other something we held so dear to ourselves. Afterward, as we lay together with our naked bodies tangled underneath his sheets, Andy pressed a kiss to my forehead when I cried in his chest, scared to go back home once Monday morning came.
“I hate being alone there. I’m afraid he’ll go too far and kill me.”
“You don’t ever have to be alone, River,” his soothing voice cooed in my ear as he cupped my cheek.
I looked up at him through the tears and choked on a sob. “Promise you’ll stay with me?”
He smiled that smile I fell in love with years ago. “I promise.”
Andy lied.
Four days later, he packed up his entire life and moved to Hollywood without a simple goodbye.
PRESENT DAY.
“River?”
I blinked while shaking my head, trying to gather my bearings again. The past had sucked me in whole, forcing me to relive that night over again. I couldn't believe Any was standing in front of me again after all these years, the moonlight breaking through the stained glass windows of the church bathed him in a glow made for kings. Even though he looked different than the last time I’d seen him, with more tattoos and shorter hair; tonight he had a small white patch in his hair. I could vaguely make out the old lip-piercing hole and I remembered how the cool metal tasted against my tongue when we kissed.
He, along with the guys around him, were dressed in their outfits for the video, so I was able to see the tattoos that littered his neck, chest, and stomach. However, those eyes were still the same.
Those haunting gray eyes stared into the soul I previously just captured again as he waited for me to say something.
Do I play it off like I don't remember him?
Right, like you could forget the guy that took your virginity.
Do I ignore him and go about work like a professional?
How is ignoring the person you’re supposed to be working with professional?
I was starting to grow tired of the little voice inside my head.
Vincent glanced between Andy and me, pointing a finger. “Do you two know each other?”
“We went to high school together,” Andy answered before I could.
“No shit,” Vincent chuckled. “What a small world.”
“Right,” I snorted venomously.
Andy’s eyes sliced into me but I ignored him by giving him my back and looking over at Vincent.
“I’ll get shots of them later. Radio me when you’re ready.”
When he nodded, I took that as my cue to leave although I made it only a few steps before my name was called from behind.
“You’re not even going to say hello, Riv.”
I spun so fast on my heels, the end of my braid snapped to the other side of my face and I pointed a finger at Andy.
“I’m not doing this with you. Not here and especially not right now. Both of us have a job to do. Let’s keep it that way.”
One of the guys next to Andy watched us carefully and I could practically see the light click on above his head.
“Wait, River as in River from high school,” the guy said.
“Yeah, Jinxx,” Andy answered before taking a step towards me.
I took a large step away from him. “I already said I’m here to do my job, that’s it.”
Before he could try and sweet talk his way into my life, just like that night, I turned back around and marched out of the church, calling back that I was going to take some shots of it.
Once outside, I let the cold night air brush the hot tears away from my face as my heart nearly burst out from my chest, sobs echoing throughout the vastness of the sky.
No. This cannot be happening.
For the last nine years, I spent my life crying over that man, wondering what I did wrong that night to make him leave me behind. He promised to stay with me but still left.
Was I not good enough? Worthy of being by his side?
Nine years I spent stuck in Ohio wondering why with the bitter taste of Hennessy, drinking away my sorrows and regrets. It wasn’t until a year ago when I finally questioned myself in the reflection of the bottle that I took whatever money I had left from selling my father's house after he died to move across the county to California.
The last year I spent building myself up to the women I was now and creating my career empire with my photography. I refused to let the past crumble everything I worked so hard for; no matter how good he looked now or how bad I wanted to taste his lips again.
“Get a hold of yourself,” I seethed. “He left you.”
The sound of music from inside blasted through the walls of the church letting me know that they started shooting and choosing not to dwell on Andy showing back up into my life, I took a few shots of the church outside. Then I reluctantly walked back inside knowing I couldn’t avoid him forever and decided to get some pictures of the guys.
Andy’s eyes quickly found me but I did my best to ignore him by hiding behind my camera. His voice erupted through the speakers and it brought back every single time during music class in high school when he would sing in front of the class or solo for me in his bedroom.
My bottom lip trembled as I blew out a shaky breath while walking over to where Vincent sat, just as he yelled cut.
“Did you get your shots?” He wondered.
Clicking back through all of the pictures, I pursed my lips at the realization that while I got great shots of the other band members, I hadn’t gotten any shots of Andy mostly because I avoided him at all costs.
“I need some of Andy,” I said with a long breath.
“No problem. I think we got everything we need with this scene. Next up is the scene of him sitting in the pew alone so you can get them now,” Vincent patted my shoulder as he stood from the chair.
“Lovely,” I grumbled while walking back towards the altar of the church directly in Andy’s path.
He was talking with one of his band members but when he caught sight of me, he met me halfway.
“Riv,” he began.
“Don’t,” I seethed, walking past him. “You lost the right to call me that when you left me.”
“Can I explain please?” Andy asked while reaching for my elbow.
I yanked it out of his grasp, ready to move to the opposite side of the church when his voice halted me.
“Angel.”
Whirling around so fast, I nearly dropped my camera to the ground when I pushed him in his chest.
“Don’t you fucking ever call me that again!” I nearly screamed. “You don’t have the right to call me that.”
Anytime I heard that name, all I would think about was our first kiss and the night we slept together.
His eyes softened, almost begging me to listen. “Please, angel. I have to explain-.”
“NO!” My voice echoed inside the church. “There’s nothing to explain, Andy. Anything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”
“Do you guys need a moment?” Vincent’s voice carried over to us.
“No!”
“Yes!”
Andy and I both said at the same time.
“You know what, I think a break is a good idea. Let’s take thirty and come back,” Vincent directed to everyone with a wave of a finger.
Having every intention of spending that thirty minutes alone in my trailer, I brushed past Andy and nearly tripped over my feet as I ran down the concrete steps, the vision of my solace getting closer and closer. Just before I could slam the door shut behind me, it closed on a body with an audible ouch.
“Leave me alone, Andy!” I yelled.
He stood tall in the small confines of the trailer, his broad chest heaving with each deep breath from chasing after me. His bare chest underneath his opened jacket and for a second, I allowed myself to study those visible tattoos. The eagle on his sternum, the sword in the crease of his stomach, the tiger neck to it. I couldn’t make out the tattoo across his neck or chest but I could make out the 26 in a hear on his neck.
“Not until you let me explain,” he said.
I grabbed the end of my braid, ripping it out so my dark hair could fall around my shoulders.
“I swear to fucking God himself, if you say explain one more time I’m going to-.”
“Do what, angel?” He raised a brow while resting his hands on his hips.
I pointed to the door. “Get out.”
Andy didn’t move.
“You're unbelievable,” I growled while making a beeline for the door instead, only to have him block my path.
“I had to leave.”
I blinked up at him, mouth agape. “What?”
We were so close now, his familiar scent encasing me with its vise grip, and my mind kept screaming at me to create space.
He ran a hand over his short hair and took a deep breath. “I had to leave. That Monday morning after you left, I got a call from an agent in Los Angeles offering me a small gig in a commercial. It's what I needed to get my foot in the door, to get Black Veil Brides started, so I took it. But I had to be out there the day after they called me.”
“So you left me behind, without a single fucking goodbye,” I sneered, pushing past him to the other side of the trailer.
“I didn’t have a choice!” Andy’s voice was raised now, it echoing off the walls.
“You could have told me! You know I would have followed you!” I shot back.
He began pacing the narrow space while having his hands on his hips. “I couldn’t, River. Not without knowing that everything would have paid off in the end. I couldn’t have you with me while I suffered.”
I chuckled dryly. “Oh but suffering back home alone was fine with you?”
“I wanted to reach out and check on how you were doing,” his shoulders slumped.
“My number has been the same,” I held out my hands. “I lived in the same fucking house for nine years after you left. You could have come to see me.”
When he said nothing, his lips unmoving, I grew angrier and pushed his chest, ten years of holding everything in finally exploding.
“You lied!”
Push.
“You left me with him to beat on me for another three fucking years until he died!”
Push.
“You made me a promise and broke it!”
I cried with one final push, causing Andy to fall back onto the couch, stormy eyes staring up at me. Tears were streaming down my face and my eyes burned with anger for the man in front of me.
“You told me you would never leave me,” I snarled through gritted teeth. “You said you wouldn’t and you fucking did.”
When he reached for my hand, I smacked it away.
“Please, angel,” he begged. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. But I wasn’t in the best place. I couldn’t have you be with me, seeing all that shit. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“Just tell me all you wanted from me was sex so I can finally put the nail in the coffin, Andy,” I said with a shaky breath.
His face fell. “That’s not even remotely true, River.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. After tonight, you’ll go back to your band and life as a rockstar.”
With my back turned, I gathered my camera and was ready to get back to work when an arm wrapped around me from behind.
“Come with me, angel,” Andy’s soft voice brushed along the shell of my ear.
When I felt myself falling into his embrace, almost ready to give in, I pushed away from him. He made me so mad I could throw something at him. My camera or the chair.
Myself.
“You’re insane,” I shook my head.
He linked our hands together so I could face him, the pleading bright in his eyes. “Give me a chance to make up for the last ten years.”
I stared blankly at him, trying to determine if this was a cruel trick.
“You don’t deserve my time, Andy. What we used to have is gone, you can’t fix it or try to bring it back.”
“You’re not even going to let me try?” He asked.
“Why should I? So that you can break my heart again? You don’t realize how much of myself I gave to you; parts I can never take back. You were my first kiss!” I raised my voice.
He blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
I scoffed while shaking my head again. “Of course you didn’t, Andy. Because you never brought it up again. You blamed it on the alcohol that night. What’s your excuse for the night we lost our virginity to each other?”
Before Andy could speak, I waved him off and headed towards the door of the trailer.
“It’s not even worth it anymore,” I muttered with my hand on the handle.
Suddenly in a whirlwind, I felt myself being hoisted up and pressed against the bathroom door. Those dark gray eyes were reading my face, assessing every movement of my gaze as it burned into him. Andy held my hands pinned to my sides and kept me locked into place with his hips. The imprint of his cock was felt against the material of my leggings and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the moan quiet.
It’d been so long since I felt his touch and I was ready to throw out everything, all of my morals, just to have him again.
“River,” his hand cupped my cheek, the coolness of his rings almost a shock to my warm skin.
I said nothing, simply glaring up at him with a clenched jaw.
“Riv. Come with me.”
AnDy breathed over my lips and I nearly lost it. But I still kept strong, not wanting to be the first one to falter. I worked so hard to build myself back up after he left and there was no way I could allow myself to fall.
Not again.
His thumb lifted my chin, keeping it locked in his grip, and his eyes dropped to my lips; a silent question.
“Fuck you,” I spat.
Something dark flashed in Andy’s eyes as a sinister smirk played on his lips. One that I recognized all too well even though it was never directed at me.
“I don’t ever remember you being such a brat,” he tsked.
I swallowed thickly, unsure how the tension between us went from anger to sexual, but at that moment with him eyeing me hungrily, I didn’t want to question it.
“How could you remember? You’ve been gone for ten years,” I shot back.
Andy pressed his hips harder against me and this time I wasn’t able to hold back the moan. It slipped through my lips with sheer pleasure and I let my head fall against the door behind me.
“I wasn’t drunk the night we slept together, River,” Andy’s hand wrapped around my neck, thumb now on my pulse point. “Or that entire weekend.”
My cheeks flushed when I remembered we had sex multiple times that weekend. We never left his bedroom and thankfully, his parents left the next morning for a friend's wedding so they had no idea I was there.
“All I ever wanted was you,” his voice was low.
I raised my chin at him. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips, an action I watched intently, and then his voice dropped even lower. Those usually bright eyes were dark and it made the air thick, heated, and full of spice. It made it harder to breathe as his grip tightened around my throat slightly.
“Let me show you.”
Those four words sent both of us back to his bedroom during high school and just like that night, I succumbed to the darkness that was Andy Biersack; consequences be damned.
“Are you still waiting for the right person?” My question was a breath over his lips.
A low noise rumbled in Andy’s chest as his hand gripped behind my neck, yanking my mouth to his.
“She’s right in front of me.”
Every single doubt and fight I had within me vanished the second our lips touched, those familiar fireworks exploding. My hands were all over Andy; his neck, chest, ribs, and back as they sneaked underneath his jacket. While one of his hands continued to grip the back of my neck, the other held tight on my hip so I couldn’t leave.
As if I wanted to.
Our tongues molded together and he swallowed my moan when his teeth bit down on my bottom lip. For a moment, reality struck with clarity and I pushed Andy off of me, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.
“You need to leave,” I warned, breathless.
His lips were kiss swollen and his jacket was falling off of his shoulders as those stormy eyes never left my lips.
“Do you want that? Because if you do, I’ll leave right now.”
When I remained silent, Andy smirked while grasping the back of my head to crash his lips on mine again, this time with more hunger. It was as if he was a man starved, desperate for his last meal.
“You need to go,” I groaned when his lips began trailing down my chin and neck.
“Go where?” He asked. “Here?”
A gentle bite to the shell of my ear.
“Or here?”
A kiss on the sensitive part of my skin between my neck and shoulder which caused me to shiver in his embrace.
“What about here, angel? Do you want me here?”
The head of his cock brushed along my clit from underneath our clothes and I nearly fell at his feet until Andy’s strong arms lifted me to carry me over to the small twin-size bed on the other end of the trailer.
“It’s like we're back in my childhood bedroom with this small ass bed,” he grumbled.
I fell onto the cheap mattress with a slight giggle but it was hushed with Andy consuming me once more. My entire soul went up in a fiery blaze when he began rutting his hips into me and it was as if we were a couple of teenagers again making out and thinking that was the best part of it. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other as I helped him out of his jacket and he all but ripped my sweater off, leaving me in an olive green bralette.
His eyes darkened before he left teeth marks between the swell of my breasts, lapping up his saliva and dried sweat from the day and I raked my nails through the buzzed hair.
“I miss your long hair,” I gasped, feeling his tongue slip between the material of my bra and catching my nipple.
“I’ve missed the way you tasted, River,” Andy mused while kissing his way back up to my lips.
This time the kiss was slow, as if we had the rest of our lives together and there was no need to rush anything. It was like he was trying to imprint me into him, never wanting to forget anything again.
I reached for the button on his pants, pulling down the zipper to slip my hand inside, palming his hard cock.
Holy. Shit.
It was a lot thicker than ten years ago.
“Shit, Riv,” he cursed when I squeezed him. “Just like that.”
I did it a few more times while his forehead fell to my chest, panting his warm breath over my skin. I lifted his face with my other hand to kiss him again, the savageness poured out of him.
The room smelled of our desperation as I shimmied out of my leggings while he stepped out of his pants, after unhooking my bra and tossing it over his shoulder. As Andy stood at the end of the bed, I let my eyes rake over every defined muscle of his body; tongue begging for a simple taste of the ink on his skin and the head of his cock that was almost slipping through his briefs; the black briefs doing absolutely nothing to hide his arousal.
Rising to my knees on the bed, I ran my palm over his cock again, his entire body shivering underneath my touch.
"Fuck, angel,” Andy groaned before his teeth grasped at my bottom lip, yanking it away from me.
I hissed in pleasure, the taste of copper lingering on my tongue.
"Did you-." I licked my bottom lip and then tilted my head to the side. "Did you just bite me?"
Andy pushed me back down on the bed so he could take in the sight of me bare for him; those stormy eyes were now clear with only one thing.
Heat.
“I can’t believe I went ten years without this,” he muttered to himself while stepping out of his briefs, his cock finally springing free.
I licked my lips at the sight of it, salivating for a taste of the precum that he smeared over the head. But instead, I felt like being a brat with Andy, not allowing him to think I wasn’t still upset with him.
“It’s your own fucking fault,” I shot back with a sly smirk, resting on my elbows.
My squeals echoed in the trailer when Andy flipped my tiny frame over on the mattress so my ass was exposed to his palm, a hard strike falling onto it. I writhed against the bed when another harsh strike came down on my ass, my mewls of pleasure being drowned out by the pillow.
“You’re such an ass,” I seethed when the spankings stopped.
Andy palmed my reddened cheek while looming over my back, his breath warm on my neck.
“Do you still like it rough, River?” His question was heavy on his tongue.
That weekend we spent together, I divulged what kind of kinks I might have been into due to my own research. Andy let me try things with him while I did the same and needless to say, all these years later he still knew exactly what my body needed to come alive for him.
Instead of answering, I raised my hips from the bed with his name falling from my lips in a whine full of desperation. Andy had barely touched me but the wetness between my legs was warm and sticky.
I needed this release more than oxygen.
"What do you want from me?" His fingers dragged up my slick folds from his position behind me before slipping one inside, the feeling of his rings making me stiffen.
My head was turned to the side so I could gaze up at him over my shoulder. However, he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were trained hard on his finger pumping in and out of my pussy, the sounds of my arousal overpowering the sounds of my panting. Seeing the desperation on his face as he tried to hold himself back made me push my ass closer to Andy.
“Use your words, Riv,” he ordered while flicking his eyes to me for a moment.
I shook my head, words foreign when he slipped another finger inside of me, spreading them wide like a V.
“Did you forget how to speak?”
Andy clicked his tongue against his teeth, ready to pull his fingers out when my begging halted him.
"You. I just want you."
The bed shifted behind me when I noticed Andy disappear only to feel the wetness of his tongue press against my pussy to lick my arousal. The sharpness of his teeth scraped along my clit as he buried his face deeper into the sweet spot between my legs.
“You still taste so good, River,” he mused, pressing gentle kisses on the inside of my thigh.
“Don’t stop,” I all but whined, wanting to feel his tongue again.
Andy ate me out from behind with both hands on my hips, continuing to keep me in place as my body writhed on the bed from the onslaught of his mouth. When his lips wrapped around my clit to suck hard on the sensitive bud, I screamed out his name.
“Andy,” I drowned it out with a moan. “It’s so good. I’m so close.”
With the indication my orgasm was on the brink of collapse, he slipped a finger inside of me again. While his mouth was a rough attack on my clit, his finger was a gentle caress of my inner walls with slow strokes. Sheer ecstasy was slowly building at the base of my spine, warming up all of my senses until I felt like I could combust at any moment. Andy flicked his tongue over my clit and I buried my face into the pillow, the musky scent of my wellness tickling my nose as my body shook out my orgasm. My cries of release sounded like music to Andy’s ears as he hummed in praise, drinking up my arousal as it gushed over his tongue and fingers.
It had been so long since I had an orgasm that wasn’t brought on by my hand or a toy. I lay limp on the bed, breathless, as the after-shocks slowly began to fade along with the hazy bright lights, my soul returning from wherever it retreated to. I barely felt the kisses upon my thigh and then lower back as Andy dragged a finger down my spine.
“Still on birth control?” He asked, lust gone from his voice for a second.
I nodded while glancing over my shoulder and seeing my arousal coating his lips. The sight was so intoxicating that I almost uttered those three words that plagued my existence since I first met him.
“River,” he tapped my back, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Implant,” I replied.
My head leaned back in pure bliss when Andy dug his nails into my hips as he pressed himself past my wetness, the thickness of his cock filling me. It twitched inside of me, earning a disgustingly desperate groan from me.
It felt nothing like it did ten years ago. It felt better.
Andy left no space between us as he held us in place on the small mattress and I tried to move my hips in his grip. It was so rough, I knew I would have bruises later but frankly, I didn’t care. All I cared about was how good it felt to have him inside of me again.
“So tight, angel. I can’t-.”
His eyes fluttered shut as his lips parted to an 'O' shape when I rocked my hips against him with my swollen clit rubbing against the cool blanket and I shivered at the sensation. Everything from our fight to our kiss sent me in a spiral of pure ecstasy and I felt the coil in my stomach pulling tight again. My previous orgasm was still lingering and it didn’t take long before I felt that familiar tingly feeling in my spine.
“Andy, I’m going to-.”
Still inside of me, he managed to flip me over so now I was staring up at those dark eyes; pupils blown wide with lust. Now, Andy didn’t hold back as he hooked my leg up and around his shoulder so he could thrust in a deeper angle.
“Oh god,” I closed my eyes, the new sensation causing the coil to hurt.
“Eyes on me, River!” He snapped with a low growl and I immediately obeyed. "You're so fucking beautiful, angel. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry it’s been ten years.”
I didn’t want to hear his apology. I only wanted to have that coil spring free with my second orgasm. I attacked his lips with such force Andy had to hold himself up with one hand on the headboard, the other slipping between the place where our bodies met to play with my clit; exactly how I liked. Our tongues explored each other's mouths in a kiss so vicious it made my head spin. Andy’s pace was erratic and merciless but it didn’t stop me from begging.
"More," I mumbled into his lips.
That's all he needed before he maneuvered us so he sat in the middle of the bed with me in his lap and he held me closer to his chest as his hips snapped up into me in violent strokes, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot. I yelled out my pleasure, exposing my neck to Andy who immediately attacked it with his teeth leaving bite marks all along the skin sticky with sweat.
My body hummed in a prayer-like awaking, the flames and heat burning high in my belly as my organs crested higher; so fucking high I was afraid I would combust into nothing but matter in the air. His name fell from my lips in devotion, a woman praying to her God, and my toes curled as the orgasm ripped through me with so much force I screamed out in pure nirvana.
“I love you, River,” Andy professed with a strangled breath as he spilled himself inside of me, cock throbbing with his release.
“What did you say?” I questioned, almost unsure if I had heard him correctly.
He cupped my cheek, eyes softening. “I love you.”
My bottom lip trembled at those three words; the words I wanted to hear for years.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it,” Andy brushed away my hair from my face. “But it’s true. I’m at a better place where now admitting it out loud doesn't scare me.”
We stayed like that, bodies tangled together in the silence for a few long moments until he laid us on the bed. I very quickly detached myself from him so I could put some space between us.
Although he admitted how he felt, I wasn't ready to yet. I knew that I loved him ever since high school, but it was my turn to be afraid of what would happen if I admitted it out loud.
Instead, I remained silent while lying on my stomach on the bed, resting my chin on my hand to gaze down at his tattoos again. One of them immediately caught my attention and I smiled at it, a fond memory cresting to the surface.
“I remember being with you when you got this,” I whispered while trailing a finger over the black and yellow Batman logo on his arm.
“I still have the comics you got me for my birthday,” he said while propping his arm behind his head.
My heart skipped at that because it meant that he was thinking of me during our time away.
“But you couldn’t come to see me,” I muttered under my breath as I turned from him.
Andy reached for me to pull my back to his chest and lock me into place with a leg over my hips. His left hand grazed up and down my arm, sending shivers all over my skin, and I let out a soft breath.
“Will you stay with me, River?”
I sat on his question for a few long beats, letting it sink in if it was something I truly wanted. My life in Hollywood wasn’t set in place, I’d always been on the move. But the thought of uprooting everything to be with Andy scared the shit out of me. How could I trust that he won’t leave me again?
Then why did you sleep with him? You plan on leaving after this, so you’re no better than him.
“Why now?” I sat up to gaze down at him, his arm falling away from me. “How come now you want to make things work between us?”
He hesitated with inner turmoil eating away inside as he slowly sat up and ran a hand over his short hair.
“I was married for six years. The divorce was finalized last year.”
My heart sank into the depths of my stomach; no farther. It fell straight to Tartarus.
“We were together for a total of eight years but the longer our relationship went on I began to realize it wasn’t what I wanted. Who I wanted,” Andy explained.
There was absolutely no reason for me to be upset with him because while he was married, I had been casually dating. None of them were ever serious enough to last more than a few months. But it still caused an ache in my heart.
“Then why did you stay with her for as long as you did?” I asked.
Andy has a soft smile. “I loved her, in a different way than I love you. But sometimes that kind of love isn’t enough. Not when someone else held my heart first.”
Tears burned in my eyes and I blew out a shaky breath. “If that were true, Andy, then you would have come to me first. You wouldn’t have gotten married.”
Removing myself from his grasp, I began slipping on my discarded pieces of clothing while he continued to sit in bed, naked.
“I’m not saying I’m perfect, River. But I’ve grown a lot in the last few years. The Andy you used to know wouldn’t have been good for you.”
“And now?” I asked with my hands on my hips.
The smile that played on his lips grew wider. “Now, I would love to have you come on the road with me. We leave in a few days for our North America leg then jump overseas for a few weeks. Plenty of time to make up for old times and prove I’ve changed.”
I laughed. “You want me to stop what I’m doing here to come follow you? Give up potential jobs? Just to be your roadie?”
Andy’s jaw twitched but with a deep breath, he gathered himself from the bed and stepped back into his briefs and pants.
“You can be our photographer. I’ll talk it over with our management team, that way you can be getting paid.”
I pursed my lips in consideration because his offer was a pretty good one. But was it worth spending all that time together?
You love and miss him.
I sighed at the voice in my head, knowing it was true. Seeing him again brought up all the old feelings I spent years burying, trying to forget, and it was clear that Andy still felt the same.
“You remember all the plans we made? When we were hoping for better days? You wanted to become a photographer and I wanted to sing in a band. We have that now. What’s stopping you from saying yes?” He took a small step towards me.
“The promise you betrayed,” I said flatly.
Andy’s shoulders fell. “You don’t have to forgive me for leaving you, Riv. But I swear to you that if you come with me, I will spend every day from here on out proving to you that you’re all I want.”
When I didn’t say anything, he wrapped his arms around me and oh so gently, laid a kiss on my lips.
“I love you, River Murray,” he professed. “We can start over; fresh. But only if this is something you want. If not, then we can both leave with some closure and go our separate ways.”
I couldn’t explain the way my heart physically ached with the thought of leaving tonight and forgetting about Andy. Even with all the anger and hurt, I couldn't imagine acting like tonight didn’t happen. Maybe there was a small possibility that we could work through our issues, gain that trust back, and finally find what we were desperate to have.
But the betrayal weighed heavy in my soul along with the fear of Andy doing it again, only this time while I was with him and leaving me stranded.
“River, if you’re with Andy, can you have him come to set? We’re ready to start again.”
I jumped at the sudden loud crackle of the radio, Vincent’s voice breaking through the clouds of confusion.
With a sigh, Andy slipped back into his shoes and jacket.
“Let’s get back to work, yeah? We can talk more about this on the next break,” he said.
I swallowed the waver in my voice as it broke. “I’m actually going to sit here for a bit since I’m not needed right now.”
Andy’s thumb brushed along the soft skin of my cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, angel.”
He left me with a kiss on the cheek and for the first time since reuniting with Andy, I fell to the ground with sobs wracking my body. Everything I worked hard to overcome was shattered by those three words and his offer. It terrified me to completely allow him in again but I also didn’t want to let him go.
The decision was made in an instant as I rose from the floor, hastily wiping away the tears, and gathered my things together. I knew what I chose would have repercussions, some I may never recover from, but as the door of the trailer slammed behind me, it would be alright. Because my heart said it would be.
#tina talks#andy biersack#andy black#black veil brides#bvb#andy black fanfiction#andy biersack fanfiction
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Winter's King 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: we vibing.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Jazlene comes to with a wispy sigh. You back up and stand as her mother helps her to her feet. The king is back at the table, unbothered by the overcome maiden. Lord Dustan hovers between, torn by loyalty to his liege and his family. New liege, that is. Only yesterday, he was toasting to good King Waleran.
“My apologies, your highness,” Jazlene fans herself with her hand, “I was only surprised. I didn’t... How could I expect this? To marry a king?” She reaches down to grip her mother’s arm, shakily stepping forward towards the king who doesn’t even glance up from the table of maps, “I promise to you, your highness, I will be a good wife to you.”
The king tilts his head, tracing a finger along a ridge of mountains, then leans in to examine the riverbeds below. Jazlene looks at her mother, an expression of concern on her pretty features. She is rarely ignored, if at all. She will make sure that she isn’t.
“Lord Dustan, I expect the dowry will be served along with your men and my kingdom,” the king declares, “but now, I find myself fatigued. A hard day’s ride sees me in need of bath and a bed.”
Dustan bows his head, “and so you will have it, your highness. I will send down for water--”
“Have the maid see to it,” the king waves his hand vaguely in your direction, “certainly a servant is a servant.”
“Yes, your highness, how wise,” Dustan simpers, as he often does to men with titles above his own. “You,” the duke turns and snaps his fingers, “you heard the king. He requires hot water in his chamber.”
You keep your head down, “yes, my lord.”
You spin without hesitation. You’re all too happy to be free of the noble intrigue. It is rather easier to be unseen and unthought of. It has ever kept you from envying these ladies and their silks and these lords and their golden signets.
Your flight is fleet. You rush down the corridor and to the wide stairwell. You descend with your mission and pass Merinda as she paces listlessly outside the kitchens. She stops you with an arm across your path.
“There are whispers,” she says lowly, “of who visits. Is it true?”
You look at her. You don’t know if you should say. It isn’t her place and you don’t know what they say. There is rather much gossip in castles.
“It is,” she hisses, “you don’t need to say it. You are a poor liar and when you say nothing, I know that is the reason.”
Your lips pinch and you give her a look, “I have been sent to draw a bath.”
“Oh, is the lady in need of her evening boil?” Merinda snickers.
“Not her.”
Merinda quiets and tilts her head, “...him?”
“The king,” you answer thinly.
She nods and steps closer, “is he... I don’t understand. His soldiers, they mill about with our own, they cavort together. Not as enemies. Are they not invading? Do they not mean to take the castle?”
You tear your eyes away. She’s right, you are a poor liar. You lean in, lips right by her ear, you whisper, “Lord Dustan has new allegiances.”
She claps her hand over her mouth as you back up. She stares at you with wide eyes. She slowly drops her arm and her lip quivers, “he means to get us all killed.”
You push your shoulders up, “think only of today. It’s all we can do. Oh, do you know where the king’s chambers would be?”
“Mm, they took his saddlebags to the ivory room. I think there,” she answers, “do you require assistance?”
“Stay here,” you gird, “he is a brusque man.”
That only seems to worry her more as her face twists. You can’t help but feel the same inside but you do your best not to let it show. You leave her and carry on to your task.
You put the kitchen hands to boiling water and send a few others to find a tub to bring to the king’s chambers. You help where you can and take the first bucket up. You pour it into the large tub in the ivory room and return for second, a third, a forth, and fifth. There will be many more even as your arms ache and your nap slickens with sweat.
Upon the eight, when the tub looks near halfway, the chamber is not empty. You’re surprised by the king’s presence as the door remains ajar. You pour the water with a low apology and diligent ‘your highness.’ He doesn’t respond.
There is much to go still. Back down, up again, hot water splashing on your sleeves, singing beneath, dumping it over the edge as you keep your eyes on your work. Do not be more than a piece of furniture. You are only air.
At the last bucket, you pour slowly, careful not to slosh over the edges. As you right the empty pail, you hear a metal chink. The king growls into a long exhale. You turn towards the door.
“Close it,” he commands, “you will remain.”
You’re happy he cannot see the look on your face. You obey and close the door. You turn back, standing by the pillar of the door frame, as you often do, and begin your vigil. It should not be unexpected that he may require you to fetch something further for him.
Your eyes catch the bottom of his mail as he lifts it over his head. No, don’t look. He undresses, leather creaking, fabric rustling, pacing as he strips away each piece. You grip the rope handle of the bucket. He circles the long tub and nears you. You cower, bracing. You are not noticed, you are not approached, unless it is for rebuke.
He grabs the bucket by the brim and tugs. You let it go. He turns and sets it on the floor away from you. You push your hands together, stilling a tremble. He wears only his breeches and you catch a glimpse of the thatch of hair along his thick stomach. You gulp and twine your fingers through each other.
He turns away and crosses the room. You listen to the fabric fall from around his hips. Your eyes bore into the floorboards. The water shifts as he climbs into the tub and you listen to him groan as he lowers himself into the depths. The steam mingles with the tension of his silence.
He sighs and stirs the water. The lull persists as you wait. He will need wine or food.
“Come,” he bids and your eyes flick up. The tub conceals much of his lower body as his thick shoulders and arms stretch around the brim. “I have a knot.”
You approach hesitantly, unsure where to aim your eyes the closer you get. He gestures around his head, “stand behind me.”
You do as he tells you.
He sits up slightly and bends his head forward, lifting his white hair out of the way, “here.”
He points along the muscle beside his neck. It’s thick, just like all of him. You’ve never seen a man built like that. There are stringy barn boys and tubby cooks.
You stare and raise a hand, hovering it over his muscle. Are you supposed to touch him? He is a king and you are a servant. You are a servant sold out of pig shit into servitude.
His large hand reaches for yours and he guides it down. You shake before he lets you go. You feel the muscle, almost curious, and rub lightly. He makes a noise but you’re unsure of its tenor.
“Harder,” he demands, “squeeze,” he shows his hand, making a kneading motion, “you cannot hurt me.” You do as he says. You squeeze and he rests his hand against the tub, “harder,” he repeats.
You obey.
His head hangs as his long strands touch the water. You bring your other hand up as your efforts make your tendons sore. He lets out shallow breaths and hissing groans. Your chest thumps at the sounds that rise from him.
“Your master has broken his oath and sworn a new one to me. And you, does that make me your master as well? If I am your master’s master?” He asks slyly.
You focus on your hands, “your highness?”
“Answer, don’t be afraid. Liars bore me.”
You sniff and mull your reply. You don’t know. You don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“Lord Dustan is my master. I am bound to serve him.”
He snorts and lifts his head. You rescind your touch but he reaches back to latch onto your again. He tugs you forward, placing your hand back on his shoulder.
“Softer now,” he instructs. You rub his damp flesh as he bends a leg, his knee poking above the water. “You, a servant, so low, and you are more loyal than any man with a title.”
“Your highness, I must serve.”
“As he must. Did he not swear himself to the old king? Eh? War does muddy the waters,” he muses, “coin does test old ties.”
You say nothing. Your comment isn’t warranted or wanted. You know better. Jazlene taught you only to answer when asked.
“Very well,” he taps your fingers, “I feel better. You have a kind touch.”
You back away and wipe your hands on your apron. He hangs his head back and puffs. He closes his eyes. You watch the white waves made wilder by the humidity of the bath.
“I hate sleeping in strange places,” he says, “you will stay for the eve.”
You tuck your chin down and fold your hands together. Your scalp sweats beneath your cap, your shorn locks itchy with the heat. You wet your lips and force out the air trapped in your chest, “yes, your highness. As my master bid, I will serve you.”
He says nothing more as he leans back against the tub completely. His large arms frame the metal and his hands wrap around the edges. He closes his shining eyes in recline, the water still and steaming. He stays that way until the damp heat dissipates. You stand locked in his thrall.
He sits forward suddenly, the water stirring with his movement. He turns his hand and beckons with his thick fingers.
“A bath sheet,” he demands.
You go to the chest in the corner and open it. You retrieve a folded swath of fabric and bring it to him. He stands as you unfold the length of linen to obscure his form. Your eyes are on the ceiling as the water slakes from his figure and he looms large above you.
He steps out, close to you, and puts his hands over yours. He pulls the sheet around his body, your arms too. He releases you only as he adjusts the fabric around his waist and you retract with humiliation nipping in your cheeks. You lean back on your heel as you shrink in his shadow.
“Your highness, do you require refreshment? Wine? Sweetmeats?”
“I did not ask for it,” he says, “I am tired.”
“Apologies, your highness.”
“Do not apologise for doing your duty. Would be a fairer world if more were so diligent.”
He turns and strides away. There’s a knapsack and bedroll against the wall. He keeps one hand on the sheet and unbuckles the flap, reaching within and tugging out a bed shirt. He drops the sheet away and your eyes flit away from his nakedness. He has no shame but you are merely a servant. He shouldn’t care for your witness.
He swipes the fabric over his head and it falls just to his thighs, concealing just enough to have him decent. His thick legs are trimmed in dark hair and the muscles are taut beneath his skin. He faces the bed and pulls back the quilt and linen. He pauses and looks up at you.
“Will you sleep afoot then?” He wonders.
“Your highness?” You wince. “I must...” you peer around, “empty the bath.”
“Must you? Stagnant water can wait,” he insists. “Come.”
You waver, skirts rippling around your legs. You step forward and stagger.
“The lantern, your highness?” You inquire.
“Douse the light if you will,” he allows. “And come.”
You do as he bids and snuff out the flame. Your vision is left blackened and formless. You reach out blindly, realising your error too late. You can’t see much as you walk warily towards the bed. The heavy curtains are shut and block out the sliver of moonlight.
Your knees hit the bed and you gasp. You catch yourself before you can fall forward, leaning against the mattress. You’re stuck like that, uncertain if you should go forward or back. Something wraps around your wrist, a stolid heat.
“I often sleep with my horse,” the king says as he draws you onto the bed. “I need a warm body close.”
You go rigid as you let him command your body. He guides you to lay down and tugs the bedclothes over you. The damp specks on your dress and apron cling to your skin. He leads your head over his thick arm as he lays on his back neck to you. You stare into the endless void of the canopy.
“The horse smells much worse and snores,” he muses, his arm curling around your shoulders, offering a more comfortable rest for your head and neck. You quiver at being so close. It is an odd request but you daren’t decline it. “Be still,” his other hand comes to touch your sleeve, “and sleep. I only mean to ease my own unrest.”
You close your eyes and exhale. Your heart is pounding and your body is tingling. You don’t think you can sleep with the surge flowing through you. He sighs and shifts slightly. You lay there, in silence, only the noise of his breath and yours to fill the castle walls.
“I am awake,” he says. “Speak to me, maid. Tell me, where do you lay your head on nights where a king does not trouble you?”
You wiggle slightly. Your spine is uncomfortable at the flatness but not worse than your usual fare. You bring your hand over your chest and fist your fingers tight.
“On a bag of hay with Merinda,” you utter smally, pushing your legs together as you arch your back slightly. Your hips are tight.
You’re startled as the bed jostles and he grips your hip. He rolls you onto your side, his touch lingers as he pulls you against him. He is as hot as a hearth.
“Merinda?” He repeats.
“Another handmaid, your highness.”
He hums and drags his hand away from your hip. He blows out a great heavy and grunts. His arm curls around you snugly.
“I hope I am preferable to that bag of hay,” he mutters and the tension seeps away from his form. “Though perhaps just as prickly.”
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#the witcher#winter's king#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#medieval au
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Natiii hiii
If your requests are open, is it alright if I request a part 2 of the platonic sibling headcanons for your favourite Ikevamp boys? Where they find out that reader, their precious beloved little sibling, is actually in love with/dating Dazai. I think it would be hilarious xD
Take your time, and remember to put your own health first! ❤
Hi hoooo, Silveeeer! (if you don’t get it, you don’t get it; and it means I’m really old)
Platonic relationships are so cute! Half of them would die if the reader dated anyone, to be honest, HAISUEHSAUIEHSAUIEA. But oooohhh, it was fun to imagine my dearest Isaac! 🤍
I'm sorry it took so long and I hope you liked it! 🤍
gn!reader with a sibling-like relationship with them starts to date Dazai | Isaac, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Theo and Vincent, and Napoleon
Tags: minor spoilers for Dazai’s route; platonic relationships; sibling-like bond; teeny-tiny suggestive parts for Mozart, Jean, and Theo and Vincent (but still sfw, don’t worry!)
Notes: kind of a part 2 of this post, where gn!reader has a sibling-like relationship with them.
Isaac
“I’m dating Dazai.” — Do you hate him? He feels like you do now.
He was never overprotective or one to pry into your business, but he felt like he should tell you something about it. You are his dearest younger sibling, after all.
He won’t try to separate you not exactly. He just wants to make sure you’re okay — stop glaring at him!
He will ask for Napoleon’s help to have a talk with Dazai. Napoleon is there just giving moral support because he has nothing against the writer. Isaac is in such distress after this talk, he probably got some gray hair. Dazai teased him, and Napoleon didn’t help.
He will tell you about this and every other time Dazai teased him or pulled some kind of prank on him. Might he remind you it was Dazai who gave him wine and said it was juice at the last banquet?
He can finally have a proper talk with Dazai — without being embarrassed or teased — a few weeks later. He can see now that Dazai really cares for you, and his teasing has lessened (but didn’t stop; it never stops).
Just remember your brother is a contrarian, okay? He’ll complain and grimace when he sees you two kissing, but he’ll help you out if Dazai ever tries to avoid you again. He really hopes you two stay together forever; he wants to see you happy.
Now stop bringing him apples every day with the excuse that you’re taking care of your family, Dazai!
No, Dazai, he doesn’t need someone too! Stop trying to set him up with random people!
Mozart
“Dazai asked me out and I said yes.” — “Pfff, no, you didn’t.”
And it’s not because it’s Dazai. It’s because you’re dating. That’s it.
Overprotective brother activated successfully. Every breath you take, every step you take, he’ll be watching you.
Seriously, he’s watching you two like a hawk. You thought Theo had brother issues? Pff! He won’t leave you alone. Or he’ll try to not leave you alone, but Dazai is too cunning and he always finds a way to evade Mozart and take you with him. Your brother might be fuming by now.
He doesn’t even try to talk with Dazai; he just knows he’s not worthy of you. No one is.
You end up having ‘the talk’ with Mozart. Does he remember when he was having a composer’s block, and Dazai helped? That’s how you start your list of “why Dazai is the safest vampire you could date”. You end the list playfully asking if he’d prefer if you dated any of the other writers, like Arthur, and you swear his eyes twitch with only the thought of it.
He tries to keep his pettiness in check for you. Keyword: try. Spoiler alert: he’s not good at it.
He never sees bite marks on your neck, so he thinks everything is okay and still… decent. He freaks out when Arthur points out that Dazai might be biting you on other parts of your body that don’t show when you’re fully dressed. You want to kill Arthur, while Dazai is just giving that closed-eyes smile of his.
Congrats, overprotective brother is back again at full force.
Jean
“I’m dating Dazai.” — “Alright.”
Chill brother ftw!
Sweet, clueless, and innocent brother doesn’t see anything wrong with your relationship.
He’ll just make sure this is what you want and that you’re really happy. He doesn’t need much assurance. He trusts you, and he knows you never lie to him.
He doesn’t have a problem with Dazai, so why should he be worried?
However, he will miss spending more time with you in the beginning of your relationship. So Dazai makes sure to include him in your plans sometimes. He might even help you teach Jean how to write and read. (This is too wholesome to imagine)
Jean doesn’t even know what ‘the talk’ is. The roles are reversed: Dazai ends up having it with him, and you’re freaking out. It ends well though; it seems your new boyfriend didn’t say anything weird. This time.
His only problem might be if he sees you two leaving the same room in the morning. He won’t think much of it until Arthur makes some comment about it. And now Jean thinks you two need to get married. Congrats and thank you, Arthur.
Arthur
“Dazai asked me to date him.” — “Oh, hell no!” — “Oh, hell yes!”
Anyone but him! Seriously! If you don’t want any of the other residents, he can introduce you to someone! He has some acquaintances downtown... That’s when you hit his arm and glare at him. Okay, message received.
He won’t have ‘the talk’ with Dazai, he can’t stand the idea of having this conversation with Dazai.
Again, are you sure you don’t want someone else? If you want a writer, even Shakespeare could be acceptable… You hit him again. Fine! Shakespeare wasn’t acceptable either anyway; he was just desperate.
Dazai doesn’t tease Arthur, so your brother will bring up the times Dazai teased you, like that time you two got stuck downtown because of the rain.
And you bring up the times Dazai helped you, or when he tried to cheer you up. You even list all the times he tried to help him, and Arthur was rude to him.
Touché.
Canonly, he wants to see you breaking Dazai’s masks. So he might accept your relationship just so he can see it and finally be able to read him. Spoiler alert: he still can’t read Dazai, and it drives the sore loser him crazy sometimes.
But you can, so he has to shut his mouth and support you. He’ll be happy for you, eventually.
Theo and Vincent
“I’m dating Dazai.” — “You’ve got the worst taste in men.” — “Oh, congrats! Can we all have lunch together sometime?”
Guess who said what.
Vincent is really happy for you! He already knows Dazai, so he doesn’t need to make sure he is a nice person for you.
Theo is not happy for the exact same reason: he knows Dazai.
He protects you like he protects Vincent and sometimes even more because you are younger. Did you know Dazai goes to the casino? What else does he do downtown? Do you know? Do you seriously trust him?
You have to throw back at Theo that he goes to the pub with Arthur all the time. What does he do there? Why does he only come back in the morning? … Okay, he got it.
Theo promises that he’ll try to contain his brother issues if you’re too upset with him. He doesn’t promise he’ll succeed. Vincent is gladly there to scold him every time.
Vincent will ask if two can pose together for a new painting, while Theo will glare and curse a lot. It’s a lovely painting that you hang in your bedroom.
They’ll both be mad if you shed a single tear because of the writer. Dazai better run, and he better run fast because an angry Vincent is even worse than an angry Theo.
“Sleeping with Dazai is one step removed from sleeping with Arthur.” (he actually says it in Dazai’s route) WAIT. You haven’t slept together yet, have you? HAVE YOU? Vincent had to drag him out of the dining room because Dazai gave that signature smile of his and said, “Oh my, I can’t remember.”
(Imagine Theo lashing out, and Vincent just goes, “Calm down, they just slept together! What’s wrong with sleeping?”)
Theo will try to find a way to have ‘the talk’ with Dazai without you and Vincent knowing. It’ll turn out surprisingly fine, and he starts to trust Dazai a little more. A little.
Arthur is talking about the bite marks not being visible when you’re fully dressed again, just so he can see his best friend losing his mind. Vincent doesn’t understand what’s the problem; he thinks it’s in your arms or some innocent place. God bless this angel.
Theo is back at glaring and cursing.
Napoleon
“Dazai asked me out.” — “Alright, have fun.”
Chill brother ftw! #2
He knows Dazai and he has nothing against him.
He trusts you and your decisions, so he won’t pry or be an overprotective brother mode.
He taught you self-defense and he knows you’ll come to him if you need something anyway.
He will talk to Dazai, but it won’t be exactly ‘the talk’. He just wants to make sure he’s not just killing time with you, even though that’s not something he believes the writer would do… But he’s gotta make sure. It was nice, like friends chatting to catch up on their lives, y’know?
If Dazai runs away from you like he does on his route before you start dating, he will not be pleased. But he will try to help you out, if you ask.
If a single tear is seen in your eyes, you bet he throws the chill-brother-state-of-mind out of the highest window of the mansion along with Dazai.
Seriously, he won’t freak out about your relationship, and he won’t do anything unless you ask him to. He really just wants you to be happy.
He’ll try to read Dazai’s books. Gotta support family.
(Can we imagine him ruffling your hair and then ruffling Dazai’s hair? Okay, sorry…)
Masterlists
#💌 silver#ikemen vampire#ikevamp#ikevamp request#ikevamp isaac#ikevamp mozart#ikevamp arthur#ikevamp dazai#ikevamp jean#ikevamp theo#ikevamp vincent#ikevamp napoleon#ikevamp x reader#ikevamp hcs#ikevamp headcanons#ask me#ikevamp gn!reader#ikevamp dazai x reader#if you squint your eyes
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Eris Week 2024: Rules, Prompts, and FAQ
Welcome to the official Eris Week Blog!
This post is intended to serve as a master post for the entire event. It will include the dates, prompts, rules, and a FAQ! Make sure to click the read more to get ALL the information!
Prompts and Master Lists
2024 Prompts
Event Master Lists
2023 Eris Week Master List
2024 Eris Week Master List (TBA)
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Rules
Eris Week supports all mediums of creativity (art, fics, mood boards, playlists, incorrect quotes, headcanons, drabbles, theories, etc)
You can ship Eris with anyone and everyone. This blog is ship-neutral and will support all works. Eris x OCs and Eris x Reader are welcome too!
There is no restriction on content. You're welcome to post NSFW as long as you tag appropriately.
Be as wild as you like! Every day has a prompt, but they are purely optional! Like last year, we’ll be providing some additional guidance and questions per prompt, to help you brainstorm ideas!
We do not tolerate hate. Please do not argue or spread negativity on other creators' content during this week. We are here to support one another and celebrate one of our favorite characters! If you are not a fan of Eris, you are welcome to block this blog! Your peace of mind is important as is that of our creators.
We will not reblog or interact with any AI art.
We will have a Collection (ErisWeek2024) on AO3! Do some double duty and post your masterpiece there too!
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FAQ
How do I participate in Eris Week?
During Eris Week, please post your content on tumblr. Tag this blog in the main body of your post (@erisweekofficial) and tag your post with #erisweek2024. If you are posting on AO3, make sure to add your work to the Eris Week AO3 Collection and post your link here on tumblr.
If we don’t reblog your post within 24 hours, feel free to send us a message with the link! We would never intentionally not reblog someone’s post.
How can I see all the works posted during Eris Week?
During Eris week, we will compile a list of all works created for that day and post the following morning, Eastern Time.
So, Day 1 we will reblog all Day 1 content. Then we’ll start off Day 2 by posting the Day 1 master list and then start reblogging all Day 2 content. This is so we can try to account for multiple time zones. If we miss your post or the link is wrong etc, please reach out and we will fix ASAP.
At the end of the event we will have THE MASTER LIST to rule them all that will contain links to each day’s master list.
If I’m not a creator, how can I support Eris Week?
Leading up to the event, reblog our posts and/ or let your favorite creators know this event is happening! Visibility is incredibly helpful!
Reblog and comment on Eris Vanserra works leading up to and during the event! Supporting work now will encourage creators for the event week itself!
During Eris Week, be sure to leave a nice comment on AO3 works as well!
I want to participate, but I am nervous! Do you have any advice?
Character event Weeks are an excellent way to practice your craft, take risks, and explore art in a low stakes environment. Here are some words of wisdom that have helped folks in the past:
When in doubt, start small! Write a drabble, write some bullet points, make a sketch. All of this is 100% accepted and supported during Eris week.
Don’t feel like you have to do something for every day! Pick one or two days that really resonate with you and make content for those days!
Don’t compare yourself with others! It’s hard, especially when well known folks are also participating. But remember, everyone is happy to get any content, especially Eris fans. We’re hungry for anything folks will give us! And one day, you may be that well-known creator ;)
Don’t aim for perfection! Post something with typos, get a canon detail wrong! People will ignore it and love what you’ve made anyways. I am sure that somewhere in these guidelines, there is a typo! Embrace the chaos!
If you’re looking for some reassurance, share your work with a friend ahead of time. Get their feedback! Sometimes a little encouragement can go a long way. Both of the Eris Week organizers are creators and are more than happy to chat with you about ideas, offer advice, or simply cheer you on.
I have a question that isn’t here!
Feel free to send us asks, we’d love to hear from you all! You can send questions, head canons, ideas, or anything else! If you have a question you’d like us to answer privately, be sure to let us know in the ask. Otherwise, all other asks will be published on our blog.
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