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sinner-sunflower · 2 days

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P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12, PART 13

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Lilith: Sign the papers, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Wha- Why?

Lilith: I don't think- This needs to end now. We both knew it won't last for all eternity.

Lucifer: Lily?

Lilith: I'm leaving.

Lucifer: Lilith, please! Talk to me! At least tell me why! How about Charlie! Our daughter, Lily!

Lilith: It’s just better this way. Believe me. You’ll understand someday. And she will too.

Lucifer: Is this because you’re afraid I'll overshadow and control you? That I'll hurt you like Adam did? Because I won’t. Lilith, please. I love you so much. I can step down! You can be the sole ruler of hell is that's what you want. Please.

Lilith: Stop this, Lucifer. Don’t make this harder than it is.

Lucifer: I.....can’t stop you, can't I?

Lilith: No.

Lucifer: I guess you’re the one doing the hurting this time. Is that what you’ve wanted all along?

Lilith doesn’t respond. She leaves.

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Lucifer awakens to the scent of Marigolds and the sound of strangled crying. He's vaguely aware of the weight of his body being cradled by someone, their tears falling onto his still form.

With a lot of effort on his part, he commands his vision to clear and the ringing in his ears to subside. Gradually, his surroundings comes into focus, revealing Charlie to be the one holding him, her face contorted with anguish that should never be present on his little girl's face.

'Who did that? Who made my Charlie cry?'

Her words tumble out in a frantic stream, but Lucifer struggles to respond, his voice caught in his throat. It dawns on him that Charlie isn't aware of his consciousness, her attention absorbed by her own distress.

Squinting against the haze of confusion, he realizes she's speaking to someone else entirely.

Charlie: A-angel hurry, please! I don't know what just happened. You're the number I- and I'm sorry please help me!

Lucifer can't hear what Angel was saying on the other end but they're muffled. Each unintelligible word seems to only worsen his daughter's tears, and oh, how he longs to comfort her.

Helplessness washes over him as he wishes to move, to reach out and wipe away his most precious' tears.

'That's what a good dad should do, right? Yeah. Yeah. It's kinda funny how Charlie is the one craddling me right now. I miss her baby days.'

He must have chuckled because Charlie whips her head down to him.

Charlie: Dad! You're awake! Thank you. You're okay, dad, don't worry. I- Angel, he's awake! I don't know! I just found him, oh god, Angel- I thought he-he-

There's frantic voices on the other line, the residents are all probably huddled in the phone attempting to calm Charlie down. Lucifer didn't get to hear what the overlapping voices were saying when the sanctuary's doors fly open revealing the radio demon.

Suddenly, the sanctuary's doors burst open, revealing Alastor. With a keen eye, he spots Lucifer and Charlie, and wasting no time before teleporting to their side in a blink, concern evident as he checks on them both.

Charlie: A-Al, thank god you're here. I- I

Alastor: My dear, you must calm yourself. Breathe.

Charlie: I can't!

Alastor: Yes you can. Count from a hundred backwards.

Charlie: 100, 99, 98.....80... I ca-can't please-

Charlie freezes as a gentle hand touches her cheek, prompting her to lower her gaze. With deliberate tenderness, he reaches for her hand, guiding it to his chest, positioning it over his heart. A silent reassurance pulses beneath her touch, the steady, calming rhythm of her father's heart.

Lucifer: I'm okay, duckie. Feel it. I'm okay. I'm breathing. I'm alive.

Charlie: D-dad.

Alastor: Match his breathing, dear.

After a minute, Charlie managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences. She reiterates what she walked in on earlier and Lucifer is horrified. His daughter shouldn't have seen that but he's also berating himself. He knew that he shouldn't have told Keekee that Charlie could come. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID-

A snap of a finger stops the start of another spiral.

Alastor: None of that. We will have a talk about this but first, let us go back to the hotel for now. It must be uncomfortable laying on a frozen floor, no?

The King of Hell wants to say something but he knows there's no arguing with a fretting Alastor. Charlie is already outside on the phone again, most likely talking to whoever was at the hotel or maybe the Sins. He's hoping she doesn't call them right away; they're bigger worrywarts than him.

Charlie: -no no. He's fine now We're going to take him back to the hotel. Yes. Yes. Of course. Maybe in a few hours? Yes, I'll call you after we check him over. Yes. Thank you, Aunt Bel.

He yelps in surprise as the radio demon picks him up and holds him bridal style.

Lucifer: What the hell you doing??

Alastor: Why, carrying you, my love!

Lucifer: I can walk just fine.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at this then promptly dropped him.

Lucifer: Ow! What the fuck?!

Alastor: That does not look like standing. Perhaps it's opposite day today?

Lucifer all but growls but knows he's got him there. With a groan, he relents, deciding that he's going to be complain all the way back if he can help it.

Lucifer: Fine.

Alastor: What was that~?

Lucifer: I said fine! Carry me you tacky piece of shit!

He's pouting but he doesn't care. He's the King of Hell for Father's sake! Why is he letting this man bully him??

Alastor only smiles as he picked him up again. At least someone is enjoying this humiliation.

The way Alastor is holding him is doing something to him and had Alastor always been this handsome??

They meet Charlie outside already with one of their limousines. Thankfully, no reporters are camping anymore around the palace or this will be another big scandal that will most likely damage his image. Not that he cares what people in Hell think of him but whatever they they perceive him as extends to Charlie and he's not going to give them any ammunition on her.

Charlie: You sure you're alright, Dad?

Lucifer: Yes, sweetheart. I just want to be in a bed right now.

Alastor: I could always teleport you there, my dear. Would be faster than this death contraption.

Lucifer: I will throw up on you.

Alastor's eye twitches but doesn't say anything back. They sit in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the ride.

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Alastor: Charlie, why don't you talk to the others and your uncles and aunts about your father's condition? I'll take his majesty up in his room. I'm sure the last thing he needs is to be bombarded with questions at this time.

Charlie: You're right. Thanks, Al.

Charlie squeezed Lucifer's hand in a silent reassurance.

Charlie: I'll follow you later, Dad. Love you.

Oh, how he loves her so.

Lucifer: Okay, duckie.

He almost threw up when Alastor teleported them up to his tower but before he could, the sinner put up a lemon tea up on his face. Muttering a small thanks, the King of Hell took a few sips before deciding to lay down.

Alastor is still not interrogating him but maybe the other can smell his exhaustion. No. The guy did not talk at all. He only moved to sit by his side, leaning back to the headrest. Lucifer takes this as an invitation to hug the other's waist like a bolster and snuggles closer. The Sin of Pride feels his partner's hand combing through his hair and humming an old tune.

He's afraid of seeing Roo again as he tightens his hold on Alastor. The other doesn't even flinch and Lucifer is glad. Alastor usually doesn't like touch so whenever the other allows it, Lucifer savors every second.

Lucifer: I won't blame you, you know?

Alastor: Hmm?

Lucifer: If it's too much. If you wanna leave, you can.

The hand in his hair stops moving but Alastor still said nothing.

Lucifer: I'll remember you though.

Sleep is calling him. He only wishes that he'll dream of nothing this time.

Lucifer: I remember everyone that leaves.

He passes out not hearing Alastor reply, words laced with a genuinity no one else had the privilege to hear.

Alastor: I can assure you, my king, I am not one to give up what I adore that easily.

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I adore that Lilo and Stitch line. It really struck me when I first watched it.

YT also played this Hour of Joy VHS tape and that background tune really gave me inspiration on some future scenes. So, stay tuned.

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maccreadysbaby · 3 days

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

and john’s back at it again ALSO one of his lines is FORESHADOWING babdmdkdkfjsn

part thirty-seven

❝ PLAN B ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 12:00 PM

BENTLEY WAS PRETTY SURE HE’D NEVER MET ANYONE, NOT EVEN THE PUPPET MASTER, WHO COULD PULL STRINGS LIKE A WAYNE. Because, less than four hours later (with Bruce’s blessing), Bentley Whittaker and Jason Todd were waiting to get called into the visitation room at Blackgate Penitentiary to see his father.

Bentley hadn’t expected to be so nervous. Maybe he should’ve, since he was going to talk to the man who’d abused him for ten years, kidnapped him, poisoned him, and was now turning people into terrifying monsters whose only soul purpose was to murder his family. Not to mention that he’d just been patted and scanned and checked all over by people who, he was pretty darn positive, were carrying guns. And he was in a prison. Full of, like, murderers and stuff.

Before they’d left the house, he’d been a normal amount of nervous, but now, sitting in the empty prison hallway, he was downright horrified. He and Jason were sitting in uncomfortable metal chairs, staring down at old tile. Bentley’s knee was bouncing at a pace that might rival Nico’s superpowers. Honestly, as dreary as it was, he’d rather be back at the Manor sitting on the same loveseat watching Asten puke his guts out every ten minutes. (Because, yes, that was happening again.)

Bentley heard Jason breathe in and out. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

Bentley glanced over at him. They were both a little more presentable now, mirroring one another in varying colored jeans and hoodies. Jason had fixed his hair in its typical upward fashion, putting the white streak on full display. He was looking back at Bentley, a serious look on his face, his greenish-blue eyes gleaming oddly under the fluorescent lights.

Bentley looked down at his ratty red tennis shoes, at his vigorously bouncing knee. “No.”

He felt Jason’s eyes on him, and could practically feel the smirk on his face when he replied: “You sure? Because you look like you’re trying to pedal a broken bicycle.”

Bentley forced his knee to stop moving. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jason said, patting Bentley’s knee once, quickly. “Just… really think about it. I can’t come in with you, so it’ll just be you, him, and a cop. If you really don’t want to do it, that’s okay.”

Bentley let out a puff of air. “I’m going to do it.”

“Okay,” He saw Jason nod in his peripheral, and after a moment of silence, he leaned in close and continued: “But if anything happens, I’ll blow that door off its hinges before the cops even know what’s happening.”

Bentley cracked a smile at that, and Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk.

Waiting felt like both an eternity and a split second. One minute, he and Jason were sitting alone in the hall, the next, he was being ushered through a big, thick door by a female officer who was relaying ground rules and reinforcing the fact that Bentley only had twenty minutes to talk to his dad.

“You don’t have to stay for all twenty,” Jason interrupted as Bentley was whisked down the hall, which the officer didn’t really appreciate. The woman kept talking but Bentley couldn’t really focus; he was too busy trying to peer into the visitation area.

The long, barren hallway turned into a long, barren room, lined with plexiglass booths. There were no other people in there. Each booth had a phone and desk on either side, separated in the middle by a wall of glass. There was a sign above every window that said: please don’t scratch the glass!

Bentley steeled when he spotted a mop of red hair that matched his to the tee, sitting behind one of the windows. He breathed in and out. His father couldn’t get to him behind the glass, right? Bentley didn’t see any holes or doors or ways for him to get into the room. The police officer, whose hair Bentley could now see was black, closed the door to the room and went to stand along the wall.

With a final quick glance up to her, Bentley made his way to the rickety spinning stool across from his father. Third booth from the right.

He looked… different. Not so clean cut. His hair was longer — he’d always been so anal about trimming his hair that Bentley was thoroughly shocked at the sight of the shaggy red mop that looked a lot like his own now. He had a little facial hair, too, patchy and strange looking. He was wearing a matching set of gray clothes, not a pressed suit, and when Bentley sat down, his shiny brown eyes bored into the child’s head like an electric drill.

Bentley, when he sat down, moved his feet up to the highest rung on the stool in an attempt to make himself smaller. Cut the head off the snake, right? That’s what he was here to do; stop the operation in its tracks. So… how was he supposed to manipulate the manipulator? (In hindsight, maybe he should’ve thought a little bit more before he decided to go to the prison.)

His father picked up the black wall-phone on his side of the glass and brought it up to his ear. Talking openly about, like, crime and stuff was pretty stupid, though, wasn’t it?

Bentley lifted his hands, finger-spelling: sign.

His father put the phone back.

A moment of silence passed where Bentley’s father just sort of watched him closely; contemplating. His eyes scoured what had to be every inch of his son’s appearance before he lifted his hands and signed: ‘You’ve grown.’

Bentley thought long and hard about how he should respond. He considered saying: Yeah, food helps with that, but decided against it. Instead, he just bobbed his fist yes. This was already way harder than he’d thought. How was he supposed to talk to him? After he’d… you know. After all, his father never really gave up, even in jail.

Bentley kept his gaze trained on his father’s hands like he used to, avoiding eye contact like the plague. He didn’t want to see his face.

The hands moved. ‘How is school?’

Bentley breathed in and out, fingerspelling: ‘Fine.’ Well, besides having a murdering mad scientist (who moves at his father’s command.) for a teacher, and a bully who thought it would be funny to lock Bentley in the janitor's closet. That and the fact that he was now in the public eye for living with Bruce. He didn’t even want to know what the news reports looked like lately. Bruce Wayne’s newest child, gone without a trace?

John nodded. Another brief moment of staring ensued, before he brought his hands up again. ‘Made any friends?’

Not besides the ones you tried to kill. Bentley blinked a few times, moving his fingers calculatively. ‘Yes. But you already knew that.’

His father’s expression grew curious, in an arrogant sort of way, like he was raising his brows to say oh, really? Bentley only looked at him for a second before his eyes drifted back to the table his father’s elbows were resting on.

‘I know you’re still talking to Dr. Keene,’ Bentley signed subtly, glancing at the officer behind them, who looked anything but engaged. ‘And I’m sure you know by now that he had us at the facility. Then he didn’t.’

His father said nothing. Typical, and a great way to piss off an already sort of simmering-in-his-own-silent-rage kind of child.

Bentley kept his hands moving, lest they stop. ‘You’re hurting innocent people just to get back at me? I never did anything to you.’

John lifted his hands, his fingers twitching oddly for a moment before he signed: ‘It wasn’t about you. It was about Bruce.’

Bentley fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘But-’

‘Bruce is the reason your mother and sister are dead. And then he came along and took you away from me, too,’ His father’s hands were sort of trembling, now, his expression intense and hard. Bentley could feel his eyes but still wouldn’t look right at them.

‘You didn’t even want me. What sense is there in attacking someone who got the kid you never wanted? Now you don’t have to deal with me,’ Bentley signed, looking at his father’s hands, shaking his head subtly. ‘You hate me, and now I’m somebody else’s problem. You should be happy.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ Was his father’s reply. Bentley saw his expression change. ‘I love you.’

The child breathed in through his nose. Not this, not again. Get the conversation back on track — control it. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘You can’t tell me what I do and don’t love; you don’t know,’ His father signed. ‘I love you.’

‘No, you don’t, and I don’t care. That’s not what I’m here to talk about,’ Bentley tried, but his signs went unnoticed.

‘I do, Bentley. I love you,’

Bentley inhaled sharply, looking down at the table with a few blinks. The last time his father had said that, it was a big fat lie. What had Bentley ever done to deserve all of that? All of this? What did he do not to deserve his father’s love?

Still, he caved for the patented back-and-forth arguing game. ‘You don’t.’

‘You just don’t want to accept the fact that maybe you’re wrong.’ His father signed, lowering his head so it was more in Bentley’s view. ‘You don’t want to accept the fact that I can change. That I can be more than the monster under your bed.’

What if his father could change? Not that Bentley thought he was. He was still a crazy psycho killer. But what if, one day, he wasn’t? What if, one day, he really was more than the monster from Bentley’s past? What if one day he really wanted to love him?

What if he wanted him back one day?

Bentley tried to push the thoughts out of his mind — he was on a mission. He was the Puppeteer. Right? His father couldn’t really love him. Right?

‘You asked me in the warehouse why I didn’t love you, and I’m telling you now, that I do,’ His father continued to sign, and Bentley’s eyes began to burn. He tried to push it away with everything in him, but something didn’t want to let go of the hope. The hope that maybe his real dad could love him again. ‘I did some awful things to you out of my own pain. Terrible things I would never wish upon any child in this world. I don’t know if I’ll ever do enough good to make up for it, but the one thing I can make damn well sure I do is let you know that I do love you.’

Bentley looked down at the table. It had been almost a year. Could someone change so fast? A year was long enough, wasn’t it?

‘You’re not lying this time?’ He signed in return.

‘No, Bentley. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now — getting you taken away, coming here, spending my time thinking, reflecting… It helped me realize that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. The only thing I really wanted. Needed.’

Bentley shook his head, blinking away the beginnings of tears. Rational thought and logic said he was lying. Hope said something else. ‘I don’t believe you.’

To the child’s surprise, his father smiled. Actually, literally smiled. With teeth and all. Teeth. Bentley’s father never smiled, let alone at him. ‘That’s okay. I’ll just keep saying it. I love you.’

Bentley shook his head, breathing in, swallowing thickly. ‘Stop.’

‘I love you, Bentley. I love you so much,’

‘Stop lying,’ He tried again.

‘I love you,’

‘Stop it,’

‘Look up at me. Please?’

That strange little sliver of hope had Bentley lifting his head on command, his brown eyes meeting the identical ones of his father. His father had tears — actual, honest tears — beginning to glimmer at the bottom of his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

‘People can change, Bentley. You’re surrounded by them. Damian Wayne went from being a murderer to a superhero. Jason Todd went from rage-killing to a full-time older brother,’ He explained with his hands, smile staying all the while. ‘I can change, Bentley. I want to change. I just need you to have faith in me.’

Bentley stared, dumbfounded, vision slightly obscured by the liquid in his eyes.

‘I,’ His father separated the signs for emphasis with a smile, and an honest to goodness tear went down the man’s face. ‘Love. You.’

All that reliable rational thought and logic went out the window, and Bentley brought a hand to his mouth. Of all the things he expected to do while talking to his father, crying was not one of them. But here he was. Crying. (He probably should’ve expected to cry anyways. He was basically a professional at it.)

For a moment, he just rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. So many red flags were waving in his mind, alarm bells sounding, lights flashing, telling him his father was lying, deceiving him, but he couldn’t really bring himself to accept it. He couldn’t. Not when his father had just told him he’d loved him ten times in one conversation. Not when Bentley was so close to feeling what he’d always wanted to feel. His father loving him was different from Dick or Bruce, it was… more. It didn’t feel the same. Different, long overdue, and… really, really, really, really good.

So, there he sat for a solid five minutes at least, his palms buried in his eye sockets in an attempt to keep the tears in. (It didn’t work. When did it ever?) He was biting his tongue to keep silent in fear Jason really would hear him crying through the wall and come break it down.

Logic told him to stop. To pay attention. To use his Puppeteer mind to see through everything his father was saying. That if he really had changed, if he really loved him, he wouldn’t be doing all of this.

The part of him that wanted so badly to be loved didn’t let him.

Because what if his dad really did love him?

There was a subtle peck on the glass, and Bentley looked up again, finally letting his (watery, and red.) brown eyes meet his father’s and stay there. He was still smiling, kind of like Bruce always did.

‘It’s been a year, and you still crumble under the weight of three small words. I thought I taught you better than that.’

Bentley sat up, wiping at his eyes, and glanced around the room warily. His father’s smile fell into nothing — something cold, like Bentley was used to. This wasn’t… he hadn’t… again?

‘You were lying?’

‘I thought you lived with detectives, Bentley,’ He signed, one eyebrow raised in a triumphant manner. He leaned in close to the glass, and Bentley instinctively moved away. ‘Listen, and listen closely, because this is the last thing I’m saying to you.’

Bentley looked down at his shaky hands. That strange feeling came again, the same one he felt at the Manor. He heard water moving through the pipes in the ceiling. He felt his blood pumping.

‘Even if you get Dr. Keene arrested, even if you kill Charlie and release the other children and destroy this entire operation from the ground up, you’re going to lose. If I can’t destroy the Wayne’s alone, I’ll just watch all of Gotham burn instead,’ He signed, a strangely competent look coming across his face like he was having a normal business transaction. ‘We have a plan B that you won’t touch, that you won’t even know about until it’s too late. Think of it as a boss fight in a video game. It’s coming. And you can’t stop it.’

Bentley exhaled a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes.

‘If you find a way to stop this — if you make us change to plan B, all the thousands of lives lost here in Gotham are on your head,’ His father smiled a crooked smile, different from the last. ‘There’s no way for you to win, Bentley. This is the end. It's your choice how many people come out of it.’

Bentley’s hands were shaking when he signed: ‘You’re not going to win.’

His father laughed. Literally laughed, out loud. ‘If you really think so, then keep your eye on the news channels. If you keep your ears open you might hear the warning call before the end comes.’

Bentley looked down at his own lap.

‘And Bentley…’ His father signed, and the child looked up one last time. ‘Just to clear things up… not a single atom of my very being has ever loved you… and not a single atom ever will.’

That was the moment a part of Bentley… died. Something inside of him shifted. The little boy that wanted his dad to love him so badly faded away to nothing, and left something oddly empty and wrong in its wake. Something like rage, but muffled by something else he couldn’t place right then.

Bentley stood up from the stool, letting out a breath of air. ‘That’s okay. Bruce loves me better than you ever could. Don’t you ever get tired of being second best?’

He didn’t wait for his father’s reply, but turned to leave the room.

“Oh, and Bentley…”

He turned back to his father one last time, who was standing now, with a smile. “When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.”

Bentley said nothing. The officer led him out of the room.

When Bentley made it back into the hallway and Jason noticed his red rimmed eyes, he looked like he was going to kill someone.

“Bentley?” He questioned, standing up when they got close. “What happened?”

“I think they had a heartfelt conversation. I couldn’t really hear it, of course — I didn’t know the boy didn’t talk,” Said the officer, patting Bentley’s shoulder. “He’s all yours. Make sure you check up with security on your way out.”

Jason took Bentley’s shoulder and replied with a: “Yeah…”

The walk out of the prison felt like an eternity. Somehow, Bentley was feeling everything and nothing at all. It felt like everything negative inside of him — rage, sadness, despair, desperation, terror, loneliness, disappointment, frustration, a whole entire life’s worth of guilt — it was like it was all broiling and fighting to get out, but the lid of the pot was closed too tight. Like it was seeping out of crevices and waiting for the day Bentley Whittaker breaks.

“What did he say to you?” Jason practically demanded, his hand staying firmly on Bentley’s left shoulder as they walked through the not-very-crowded parking lot. He had a very deadpan, sort of pissed off look on his face.

Bentley looked everywhere but at Jason, dutifully shutting down the urges to cry or throw a tantrum or punch something or burn down a house. “I just… can we just go home? Please? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did he threaten you?” Jason continued, squeezing Bentley’s shoulder as they split to go on either side of the car. Jason climbed in the driver’s seat, and Bentley hopped into the passenger’s side.

“No,” Bentley replied once they were both in Jason’s car, buckling his seatbelt. Not directly, anyway…

“Why have you been crying?”

Bentley looked down at his lap as the car started up. “Can we just go home?”

Jason didn’t argue.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

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lisbonsteresa · 1 year

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oh god

#(he really is being more open with her about his feelings and i love that so much like he really did listen and learn i'm PROUD)#the way this is obviously such a valid fear for anyone but it's especially valid for him considering everything he's gone through #but it's also crazy how he's voicing it now; after being in life or death situations so often; after nearly losing her SEVERAL times #as partners and even after they got together #it's like the full force of how much he loves her is only just hitting him; like the thought of 'taking the ring off' and 'moving on'#is making him think about the....bigger picture? about the long term; the future and how much he needs her to be part of it #he's suddenly looking into the future and all he can do is worry about what ifs #(because he's never been one to plan for his future really has he - it was get to the rj end goal and then --#and now he's kind of been drifting; kind of unsure of what he wants to do - like floating the idea of quitting but not having an alt plan)#but she's right there reminding him to focus on the here and now and that's --#she was there with him while he worked through his past and she's sure as hell planning on being there with him in their future #but she's not going to let him get lost in either direction because they need to live in the present and the present is very very good #idk i'm just obsessed with them #tm

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fangswbenefits · 9 months

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Confession

Summary: You come to Miguel when he least expects, and now there is no turning back.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 3.9k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessive Miguel. Inexperienced/V*rgin reader. Oral s*x. Body worship. Dry h*mping. Br*eding k*nk.

Part 1 - Previous part

Miguel chose to give you space and time.

For two whole days, he had kept all interactions with you at a minimum.

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

It pained him that things between you two were now in this limbo. You were still your sweet self as expected, but Miguel had soured. Anyone within a three meter radius could spot it.

So when he walked into HQ with blood dripping from his face, no one dared approach him besides the occasional spider asking if he needed anything.

He dismissed all of them and headed to Lab 2 in search of a first-aid kit to deal with the bleeding bruises.

"Need help, boss?" a fellow spider offered.

Miguel shook his head, and kept going through the countless shelves until you came into his field of vision right in the corner of his eye.

His heart immediately skipped a beat as usual.

Holding a small bag in your hand, you rummaged through it and handed him two pieces of gauze.

"Thanks," he grumbled under his breath, as he pressed the soft fabric to his face.

"What happened?"

Miguel scoffed and turned his head away from you, not wanting to extend the conversation.

He heard you heave a sigh. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Can you please move away, then?"

This time, he shifted to glare at you in confusion.

You smiled warmly and pointed at the lab counter that was covered in drops of blood.

Oh.

He grabbed the bag from your hands and began pacing towards his station, but it seemed that you had no intention of parting ways with him just yet.

And that hurt more than any of his wounds.

Having you around was intoxicating enough, but having to go days without barely seeing or interacting with you, had taken a toll on him.

And the result had been sloppiness and being caught off guard by an anomaly.

Very amateur of him.

Very unlike him.

And all because he had filled his mind with you, since he couldn't physically have you.

But you insisted on being present in his life even when you didn't have to.

Miguel walked through the door and let it slide shut, knowing fully well that wouldn't deter you from stepping inside as well.

"Let me take a look. Please."

He threw you a side-glance, and stopped to glare at his own reflection on the nearby glass wall instead, and determined that the damage could have been much worse.

"Miguel O'Hara, stop being stubborn and let me take a look."

Your kind voice was chewing at his nerves, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from snapping.

He'd rather not have you at all than having your pity.

But then again, there was still that part of him that craved your attention.

And he gave in, like the fool he was.

"Fine."

You were standing by his desk, and he saw the triumph glimmer in your face. "Take a seat."

He swallowed and did what you asked, allowing your hands to cup his face. Your touch had his stomach flip, and he couldn't bring himself from breaking eye contact with you, even when you moved your finger under his chin, tilting his head back slightly.

"Right," you said in a low voice, before removing the bloodied gauze. "It's very superficial. I think I can just use liquid stitches."

He figured as much, but his focus wasn't on his bodily bruises anymore, but on the delicate touch of your hands, the intensity of your roaming eyes, and, above all else, your warmth.

"Hold the bag a bit higher."

Miguel offered it to you, and you smiled in return.

That sweet smile of yours that had him tightly wrapped around your finger for so long.

His sweet girl…

Your touch left his skin briefly as you gathered the needed material to fix him. Miguel allowed his eyes to flutter shut, occasionally hissing from the sting of the antiseptic as you cleaned his wounds. His mind went blank for a few seconds, and he only focused on enjoying how you took care of him.

Miguel had forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of. He had spent so much time looking after others, that having the roles switched felt so foreign, yet so welcome.

"I didn't think you could ever get injured," you said with a faint chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel knew you were trying to lighten the mood, but he remained silent.

You worked on him with impressive expertise, patching him up.

Once you were done, you lightly patted the edges of the adhesive that covered his wounds and stepped away.

Pride settled on your face, and you moved to sit on the chair across his. "Looking good as new."

"Thank you."

He wished he was strong enough to ask you to leave, but he had missed these little moments. He had accepted you needed time and space, but it still hurt to think that he could have been there for you, and that you had pushed him away instead.

You drummed your fingers on the table for a while before taking a deep breath. "Miguel… we should talk."

"What about?"

"Us."

Miguel slowly straightened in his seat.

You had his full attention now.

"I don't want things between us to feel awkward," you began, eyes fixed on his. "I don't want us to grow apart…"

He hadn't seen this coming. He assumed it would take longer than this for you to come to him again.

He wasn't often wrong about many things, but he had been wrong about this.

Cocking an eyebrow at you, he leaned back. "Then what do you want?"

Your gaze faltered briefly. "I thought it'd be easier being with you intimately. It felt less… suffocating. It made it easier for me to bury my feelings." You paused and swallowed. "I know people do this casually, and I assumed you felt that way, too…"

He remained silent for a while, slowly digesting the information you had just dropped on him.

It felt like a confession of sorts, but that last part left a sour taste in his mouth.

"You assumed wrongly," he finally spoke, face twisting into a light scowl. "Is this why you pushed me away the other day? Because you think I only look at you that way?"

Your eyes shot up and you shook your head. "I didn't push you away… I… never meant for that, anyway. I just needed time to think," you said in a whisper. "Like I said, I know some people do this casually… and I would be fine with you just wanting that. I still am," you corrected yourself.

A part of Miguel felt incredulous at this turn of events. Were you confessing you had deeper feelings for him? Or was it all surface-level?

But another part of him wasn't allowing him to fully savour the first possibility. He wanted you. He needed you. But the conclusion you had drawn of him stirred annoyance inside him.

"What do you want from me?" He snapped a bit too harshly.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

"Sex? I can give you that," he said dryly. "But that is not all I want. Is that all you want?"

You looked restless. "I… I think I want more."

"You think? I don't want anything from you that you won't give willingly," he said in a softer tone this time. "This doesn't have to be more than it is. If all you want is intimacy, I can help you out. But I wish for more, and I want you aware of that."

You remained still for a while as if weighing your options.

Not long after, you nodded.

There was absolutely no doubt inside him. He was sure of how he felt about you, and he was too desperate to have anything he could take. Even casual sexual intimacy if that was what it took to soothe his frustration.

But he couldn't hide his true intentions any longer, and had to make things crystal clear for you.

"What about Tom?"

Your eyes widened. "Tom?"

"Yes. How do you feel about him?"

He needed reassurance.

"We'll work on rebuilding our friendship… but that's it."

That was good enough. Realistically, Miguel didn't expect you to sever your bond to your childhood friend. He didn't even want you to, so long as you weren't getting your feelings hurt.

You then rose to your feet and walked to him with unsure steps. Once you were in front of him, Miguel instinctively parted his legs, allowing your to close the distance between you two.

You glanced around you, and Miguel knew what you were silently assessing.

With a quick tap of a finger on his watch, rendering the glass windows opaque.

The newfound privacy made you visibly relax, and you brought your hands to either side of his head, before raking gentle fingers through his hair.

Miguel had to bite back a moan, and tilted his head back, angling it perfectly with yours.

His heart drummed rapidly inside him as you lowered your face to press the softest kiss to his forehead, and he brought his arms to envelop you into a tight embrace, his chin resting in between your breasts.

There was comfort in this type of silence.

Actions did speak louder than words, after all.

The way you began trailing kisses down his face, carefully avoiding his wounds, had him melting into your touch.

You hesitated upon reaching his lips, hovering over them with your own.

He could feel your breath fanning them rhythmically, and he felt the impending erection stirring down below.

And then you kissed him.

It was shy and controlled at first, but he quickly parted his lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into him first, gently tugging at strands of his hair. Miguel's groan tore through his throat and he dropped his hands to your waist, gripping them tightly and bringing you closer to his strained erection.

You jolted once you felt it nudging your legs, breaking the kiss momentarily.

"Hard already?"

The genuine tease in your voice awoke in him the urge to breed you. It was primal and intense, and he knew he should keep that to himself for now. However, he would need to know if you were on birth control eventually.

"You make it easy," he chose to say, placing one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into yet another kiss.

He would devour you if you allowed him to.

His tongue slipped past his lips and met yours halfway. You tugged at his hair again and he bucked his hips against you.

He was so painfully hard and already dripping precum.

Just for you.

His sweet girl.

You let him take control and only parted from him once his other hand began to move to your front, fingers dipping between your legs.

Your body language told him to immediately stop, and he did.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "I'm… still getting used to this…" your voice was but a whisper. "Can I… come over to your place later today?"

His cock was throbbing impatiently, craving release from his tight digital suit, but he nodded.

He wanted you to feel comfortable and safe around him, so he placed your needs above his.

He silently vowed to always do this.

You brought your lips to his unarmed cheek and pressed a fleeting peck to it.

"See you later, Mr. Grumpy," you said with a smile before exiting through the sliding door.

Miguel looked down at the visible outline of his cock and contemplated easing some of the tension, but he decided against it.

He would gladly build up all the frustration within him and only you would be able to relieve him from it.

You came to him late at night, before the clock struck midnight.

For the second time that day, you had come to him.

Your steps echoed through the hall and you came into sight, immediately earning his undivided attention.

"Hey, you."

Miguel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Hey."

You were wearing a flowery dress that trapped his gaze. It fit you perfectly, but he couldn't wait to get it off you.

Laughing nervously, you took determined steps to where he sat on his couch until you were close enough.

Miguel met your eyes and watched carefully as you lowered yourself to straddle his waist. Instinctively, his hands slipped under your dress to grip your hips into him.

Then he noticed you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You giggled, biting your lip teasingly. "Is this too much?"

"It's not even enough."

He caressed your skin with his thumbs, as he positioned you right on top of his hardening cock, that was now stirring slowly inside his sweatpants.

You gasped softly as your folds parted to accommodate the underside of his cock, increasing the pressure on your clit.

Miguel considered immediately removed the only layer of clothing that was in the way, but he wanted to feel you soak the fabric.

"I really, really like you," you said through half-hooded eyes, caressing the edges of the bandage covering the wound on his cheek.

Then, you took his lips in yours.

This time, you were the one taking the lead and he let you set the pace. He tasted the impatience and hunger in you, and helped you grind against him. You were a fast learner. You already knew how to sway your hips sensually against his cock, drawing a low groan from him.

Miguel felt his cock fully harden just from feeling your body undulating under the palms of his hands.

You were going to kill him one day. He was sure of this.

Your hands moved from his shoulder to your chest, undoing the cute buttons that held the dress together.

He broke the kiss so he could marvel at your breasts coming into view, as you allowed the fabric to slide down your shoulders and arms.

The nipple piercings glistened, and he felt his cock twitch from the sight of the spider pendant dangling from each of them.

He wanted to make you custom ones. Maybe with his own symbol. Or his initials. He wanted to mark you as his, and what better way than this?

"Please touch me," you begged, arching your back lightly.

Sweet.

Hungry.

His.

He brought both hands to your chest and grazed your nipples with the pads of both thumbs, hardening them.

You moaned softly, and kept riding his clothed cock.

"Can I tug gently?"

"Please…"

Miguel's hips jerked to meet yours, and he felt your wetness finally seeping through his pants.

He twirled your nipples at first in between his fingers, before gripping the metal piercing, tugging ever so slightly in awe.

You gasped loudly this time, stilling yourself as he admired the jewelry.

"I'll make you custom ones," he promised, as he positioned himself to press a kiss to one nipple. "With my symbol."

You whimpered with a nod. "Yes…"

You'd look so pretty being marked by him.

He wrapped his lips around the nipple, capturing and twirling the pendant with his tongue.

Too bad you hadn't been bred yet. He would have loved to taste your milk as you carried his child.

You pressed down on him, and the motion of your pussy dragging along his cock was enough to draw the first beads of precum.

He couldn't care less that he was about to get soaked in it, as he knew his body was only trying to prepare itself to be inside yours.

"Slowly… Miguel…" you pleaded in between moans, burying your hands in his hair. "Miguel…"

He could easily get addicted to you mumbling his name like that, but he did release the nipple, admiring how perky it looked.

Before he could have it in his mouth for a second round, you slipped off of him, settling on the floor and in between his legs.

He quickly spotted the damp spot along the outline of his cock from you grinding viciously on him.

"What is it?" he asked, unsure of what to do next.

A faint pout settled on your lips. "Can I… can you show me how to… do it?"

His eyes widened at the realisation of what you meant when your gaze landed on his crotch.

"Are you sure?"

You merely nodded, hands grasping at his waistband, gently pulling it down until his cock sprang free.

Immediately, you straightened yourself and shifted closer. He could feel your curious gaze on him, as strings of precum dripped from the tip.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering how long it would take for him to cum from this.

"Open your mouth," he breathed, and you immediately complied. "Just give it a few licks first."

You nodded and darted out your tongue to press it flat along the underside of his cock.

He immediately flinched, but still gripping it at the base to to push it towards you.

You pulled back with a pout. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. It feels really good…"

A sweet smile tugged at your lips. "What now?"

He inhaled sharply, trying to keep himself from going over the edge too soon.

"Lick the tip…"

This time, you wrapped your fingers around him, and positioned yourself until your tongue grazed along the tip, collecting the thick droplets of precum.

He had to grip the cushions on his couch to steady himself, not wanting to accidentally shove his cock into your mouth.

You kept your eyes on him, working your tongue around the sensitive tip until he saw the strings of precum mixed with your saliva begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth.

He immediately pressed his eyes shut.

The visual stimulation would only make him reach his peak faster, and he wanted you to be able to take his cock in your mouth before he exploded.

You kept giving him quick licks, further edging him.

"You need to stop…" he groaned, his hips lifting from the couch. "Please…"

Once you did, he opened his eyes again only to be met by the thick and long strings of precum of either side of your chin to drip down to your breasts.

"Too much?" you asked shyly, swiping your tongue along your bottom lip.

Fuck.

You looked so fucking delicious.

But he needed more.

"Do you think you can fit it in your mouth now?"

You quickly nodded. "I think so."

Miguel knew he was not going to last long. "Go slowly…"

You didn't need to be told twice, and craned your neck before lowering yourself and sliding the tip past your lips.

His hips instantly bucked, further sliding in and nearly gagging you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, lovingly caressing your cheek.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was hard to do with his thick cock stuffing your mouth.

"Suck gently…" he said with a groan that quickly turned into a hiss once you began to suckle softly. "Just like that…"

You were so good for him…

He saw your eyes watering slightly as you took him even deeper. "Don't be greedy… you're doing just fine, sweet girl."

By this point, more beads of precum and saliva began to spill from the corners of your mouth, streaming down your face until they connected under your chin into a single strand that dangled further and further down.

Miguel felt his balls tighten lightly as a warning sign.

He was actually impressed with how long it was taking for him to reach an orgasm.

And that was when he decided he didn't want to cum just yet.

Slowly, he gripped your chin and slid off your mouth, earning a muffled protest from you until he was fully out, a string of precum bridging your lower lip to his tip.

"Miguel… why?"

You were pouting again and he nearly lost it.

"Come here," he asked, trying not to focus too much on how his body was throbbing for release.

You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand, but did as you were told, standing up.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded right away.

"I want you to lay on your back," he instructed with a sultry voice. "Then I want your legs over my shoulders."

You seemed to hesitate at first, but moved to sit on his thighs, as Miguel grabbed your hips to help you slide into his desired position. Your legs parted to rest on his shoulders and he effortless lifted your hips.

"Oh…" you drawled out as your dress slid up your thighs, until you were fully exposed to him.

Miguel almost groaned at the sight of your swollen clit peeking through your soaked folds.

"Tell me if it gets too much."

"Why would I-" your words did in your mouth the moment he dragged his tongue across your folds, tasting you for the first time.

He felt your hips jerk lightly under his touch, but he had decided to bring you over the edge with just his mouth.

So, naturally, Miguel began to eat you out.

His thirst for you was satiated with each flick of his tongue across your throbbing clit, yanking the most delicious gasps and whimpers from you.

He first let his tongue slide past your opening, as his nose pressed against your clit.

You choked on a sob as he went deeper. "Oh…oh my…"

Your wetness quickly began to coat his his lips and chin, as he continued to feast on your tast.

"Miguel… I… please…"

His cock twitched at the sound of your voice, and he slipped out of you only to wrap his lips around your clit.

Your hips bucked violently into him, and he had to still you with both hands, so he could properly suckle on it.

More wetness spilled from you, fueling Miguel's ego, as it was the best indicator that your body was yearning for him to breed you. He felt it pool in his tongue and eagerly swallowed as much as he could, feeling intoxicated with your taste.

He sucked a bit more fiercely and could tell you were close. So, so close.

Come for me, cariño…

You were mumbling his name with other incoherent words as you reached your peak.

As soon as he felt you tip over the edge, he let go of your clit and plunged his tongue inside, so he could feel your contracting rhythmically around him.

Your whimpers turned into loud grunts as your orgasm spread throughout your body like wildfire. Your legs began to shake and he wrapped his fingers around his own cock, pumping it in unison with each contraction.

His senses were completely flooded and it didn't take long for his balls to tighten and the first spurts of cum to gush from the tip.

As you descended from your bliss, Miguel entered his, leaning back against the backrest and groaning loudly as he rolled his own hips, desperately fucking his hand.

His fangs were fully on display as your wetness dripped from them while also running down his chin and neck.

By the time he was able to come to his senses again, you had slipped from his grasp, kneeling on the floor with your head pressed to his thigh, breathing erratically.

The two of you remained silent, as both struggled to even out your breaths.

His cum had landed on his shirt, seeping through the fabric and dribbling down his toned abdomen.

"Do you want to spend the night…" Miguel finally managed to find his words again, caressing your cheek approvingly.

You were panting heavily and could only nod.

Part 8

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

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theroyalyandere · 1 year

Text

request: So what I am thinking about is Yandere prince× reader who is tge daughter of a merchant and his childhood bestie. They have a 5 year gap and when she turned 20,she was getting engaged. So he level ups lol. Its ok if you wanna write it in headcanon style or fiction style I just want to read a royal au (I am a sucker for it.) Can I please ask it to be a little longer your emperor one was really good so it being small had really made me thirsty 🤒 and can you make it 18+ I mean yk 👀, obviously if you are comfortable. Thanks for reading all of my ramblings.

thank you for the request! :D

yandere!prince x merchant's daughter!reader (smutty 18+)

your father is a wealthy merchant close to the king and it makes sense that when you were born, you were presented at the court by the royal family's presence.

when yandere!prince first saw you he adored how a lovely baby you were and was eager to hold you. he treated you like a baby sister due to him being an only child.

you spent your childhood being at the palace mostly by the young prince's side with how compatible the both of you are.

even as a child he's very possessive of you, he does not want any children being at your proximity or anyone getting your attention away from him.

being the prince he is, you always follow his orders and in return spoiled by him.

a few years later, his platonic affections turned into romantic ones as he saw you blossom into a fine young woman.

he grew into a great prince while you were known to be the gentle and sweet girl always be his side.

he was 25 and you were 20.

he started to treat you like a lover would and it baffles you.

you tried to turn him down but he became even more affectionate when you ignore him.

you can't deny how handsome and charming he is that is making you grow flustered every minute you spend time with him.

he's known to being a gentleman when it comes to treating ladies with respect mostly showing them to you.

he's similar to how a dragon would hoard his treasure.

you're his happiness and he wouldn't want anyone or anything to take you away from him.

he treated you so well he doesn't even look at the other girls that were offered to him.

he isolates you from everyone else to the point his parents and your parents became concerned with the way he always hover around you.

when he found out your father engaged you to another noble he was angry.

you are his to claim and his to love and because of that he made a plan.

first he took you out like usual and then to the garden where you confided about your betrothal.

he feels his irritation rising with every word coming out of your mouth.

you told him that you heard some of the other girls how they got their virginity taken

which sparked your curiosity and made him grow even more hopeful on making his plan into action.

so he offered to teach you how to kiss and please a man.

you were quite reluctant but you were determined to be experienced so you agreed.

his first lesson was kissing.

at that moment he took your first kiss at the garden, he was extremely handsome and although you thought of him as an older brother with him being the only boy you spend your time with.

your kisses were clumsy but he taught you how to move you lips and tongue in accordance with his.

his kisses slowly became passionate and you have to stop him before your heart flies out of your chest.

you pull away from him breathlessly.

he chuckles at how you already look like a mess but you couldn't deny how it made you want for more.

so you pulled him close and told him to shut up and continue.

he smirks before diving back into kissing your soft lips.

he became even hungry and he also wanted more.

you couldn't forget the moment how he took you to his chambers where he undressed you and caressed your skin.

the way he gropes your body like he owns you.

he sucks deep harsh marks all over your skin and his hands roaming to appreciate your beauty. his sole focus was on you.

you whine at the marks he leaves your skin but he insists that its part of love making.

he looked at you with lust and passion behind his eyes his lips wet from the passionate kiss you both had shared.

he lovingly laid you down on his bed and took down his clothes revealing his glorious body.

he looked down at you as if you're the only treasure and the most beautiful thing on the world.

his intensity made you shy away making you hide your face into the sheets while you weakly slam your hand onto his chest.

he chuckles and he only kisses your cheek sweetly making you even more flustered so you told him to hurry up.

"my my~ so impatient."

he prepares you by spreading your pussy with his mouth and fingers, eating you out like a dessert.

you can't help but arch your body as he coaxes sounds out of you.

your body is only his to control and pleasure and you love every moment of it.

when you came on his tongue and came back up with him licking your wetness from his fingers.

you clench your thighs at the sight and this goes noticed by him.

"ready my dear?"

you nod and he slowly pushes into your wet untainted cavern.

the prince claimed you as his the moment his hard cock penetrated your wet pussy.

the moment he entered you he went feral at the feeling of your pussy enveloping his member.

he takes it slow until the pain subsides and the completely destroys you.

"fuck~ you take me so well my darling~"

he keeps pounding into you that you almost couldn't breathe.

your beloved prince doesn't dare to leave your pussy with the way it's clamping down on his cock.

he keeps fucking you until you orgasm intensely and he spills his hot load into your womb.

you immediately fall asleep after but he pulls out to watch cum leak out of your cunt.

he kisses your forehead whispering you did well and cleaned you up before cuddling you.

after that he was determined to cut off your engagement so he studied hard to the point of neglecting you but he apologized by sending gifts to your way.

with his harsh presence gone you saw how people gravitate to you and you became popular for who you are.

but you also noticed how some of the closest ones to you disappeared

you also met your future fiancé but in the back of your mind was your beloved prince.

time passes, days before your wedding the king suddenly fell dead and the prince was immediately coronated as king.

you watch him look at you within the crowd as he was hailed as the new king of the kingdom.

at the day of your wedding he was invited as an honored guest.

he watched your every movement and you felt his eyes staring holes at you.

he smiled for your sake but on the inside his anger is bubbling up especially the way your fiance now husband kissed you. he clenched his fist and clapped along everyone else, oblivious to the plan he was brewing.

at the reception, everyone was happy until your husband suddenly falls dead infront of you causing chaos.

the feast then became a funeral with the prince consoling you.

the next day, he offered to engage you to him infront of everyone even your parents.

your answer shall determine your fate.

A/n: the ending is kinda meh but I hope you like this!

#yandere x reader #yandere prince #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere prince x reader #yandere smut #yandere!prince #yandere prince smut #royal requests #fem!reader

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gubsbuubs · 3 months

Text

Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

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pearlywritings · 5 months

Text

A guide to motivate the General

synopsis: just a couple of messages and maybe a call from his loved ones is all Jing Yuan needs to find it in himself to finish his work and go home.

pairing: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic fluff, dad!Jing Yuan, Mimi being a huge spoiled baby

word count: 2.1k+ words

A loud yawn echoes in an empty space of The Seat of the Divine Foresight. The general squints, but immediately shakes his head - as much as he’d love to take a nap, there are still some urgent cases he has to attend to. It’s so quiet and lifeless with everyone being dismissed. Oh, what he would’ve given to be far far from here…

He knows, however, that dwelling on such a matter is just a waste of his resources. Instead of feeling jealous of the guards and secretaries he let go home three hours ago, he opts to redirect the remnants of his energy to the last pile of papers he’s already halfway through.

But just as he reaches for another document his phone vibrates, screen lighting up momentarily, but even a second-long glance is enough to see who the message is from.

And he can’t make his wife wait, can he?

As he carefully puts the ink brush down the device makes a sound a couple of more times, indicating that there are three messages already. Quickly typing eight numbers of his passcode - two most important dates of his life - Jing Yuan swipes away all the spam that has gathered there this evening. His thumb lightly taps on the messenger and goes right to the chat with you, tired golden eyes gaining a bit of their usual shine.

Good evening, my love. I suppose you weren’t lying when you said you’d be quite busy. Didn’t want to disturb you before, but I hope Yanqing wasn’t covering you up, telling me that you ‘dutifully ate’ the dinner I asked him to bring you earlier.

Jing Yuan chuckles. Ah, isn’t it wonderful to have a loving doting spouse who cares so much for her husband. Of course he took a break and ate his dinner - how could he ever deny your home-cooked meals? It would be a crime against your marriage.

Ignoring for a moment your two next messages, the man starts typing an answer.

Good evening, beloved. Yes, I’ll be here for another hour it seems. But I am planning to return home tonight, don’t worry. Yes, the dinner was delicious, thank you. And you know that boy knows better than to lie to you.

Though he, personally, finds your infuriated face adorable, not scary. Sending the message, he skips to the next ones.

Look who’s been waiting for your return

And the video attached. Not thinking too long, he presses play.

He is quick to recognize your shared bedroom and from the angle you were filming you were clearly in bed. He can see the double doors of the entrance, some of the furniture and fine tapestries decorating the walls. But the main focus is obviously the big lion pacing back and forth in the space between the bed and the doors, occasionally stopping, glancing at the wooden obstacle, huffing and continuing its pacing. Then he hears you sweet melodic giggle and his heart melts and then immediately bursts when your voice enters the recording.

“She’s been like that for the last half an hour. She clearly misses papa.”

At the word ‘papa’ Mimi swiftly stops and looks at you and then at the door. Her tail slowly moves.

“No, Mimi, sorry, but papa isn’t home yet. Though I am sure he will soon.”

She seems to understand you, because another huff of dissatisfaction passes through her nose and she butts her head against the left door.

“Jing Yuan, you better hurry, before she figures out how to open the door and go bother ‘her cub’. I barely managed to separate the two.”

As the video stops, the general can’t help but snort, mouth covered with his palm. Eyes glance to the side, to the photo frame sitting snugly on his table - of him, you, held against his side with one arm, and a little girl perched comfortably in the crook of his other one. The smiles the three of you presenting are joyful and he can recall why - the day was brilliant, after all.

Not given an opportunity to wonder however, his attention is brought back by another vibration - looks like you still have something to say.

True, but it never hurts to make sure.

Want me to wait for you?

Oh, he’d love for you to be awake and welcome his exhausted body into your embrace, but at the same time he wants you to have a night of good sleep before tomorrow. Even so…he can allow himself to indulge just a little bit, right?

Warmth swirls in his chest when you pick his video call.

“Hi, pretty,” a lazy smile tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees your cozy form - hair let down, a pillow tucked behind your back and two thin straps of the chemise resting on your beautiful shoulders.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he sees your eyes taking into his own visage, noting his tired gaze, messy hair and a palm supporting his chin. “Are you calling me to answer my question?”

“Yes and no. Just wanted to see you before you go to sleep,” and that is enough of a response to you.

“How sweet of you, Yuan,” there is a guttural noise in the background and he sees your eyes dart behind the phone. “Ah, looks like Mimi heard your voice. She started running around the room. Searching for you, Mister,” even though there is a hint of reproach in your voice, the general knows you are simply joking.

“My apologies. It seems I made all my girls wait. Speaking of my girls, how is-”

Suddenly you gasp and your body seems to jump and for a moment the phone tilts backwards and Jing Yuan has to stare at the ceiling.

“My dear? Everything is okay?”

“What-? Ah, yes, yes, it- Mimi, stop! Ouch, your paw is heavy!”

The ceiling is clearer now - you must’ve put the device down in an attempt to (what he can only guess) fight off the lion that jumped onto your bed, finally figuring out where the voice was coming from. Loud grunts and your noises of discontent with occasional complaints are the only things he can hear for a couple of minutes. Reasoning that it’s better if he stays silent for the time being, Jing Yuan sets the phone against the photo frame and returns to the paper he was about to review.

It’s almost three documents later - wow, a quick peak of his loved one is doing wonders to his worsened productivity - when the commotion settles down and you pick your phone back, heavily exhaling with an annoyed look on your face. Jing Yuan decides to simply turn to you, hand still skipping through the papers.

“I swear, this overgrown cat is the biggest baby I’ve ever dealt with. Here, look, papa is here,” and you practically shove the device into the animal’s muzzle. Big nose sniffs around, and, not finding the familiar scent of her caretaker, the lion gives you a side eye, which makes your husband choke on his laughter. The maned head whips to the left, keen hearing obviously picking a well-known voice.

“Who taught her that jumping onto the bed is okay?” You are in his sight again, fingers running through your hair, now no different from his own messy locks. “Right - you. I couldn’t get her off and barely managed to put this bulk down. You better pray she decides to leave on her own accord, or you are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Yes, your annoyed expressions are truly marvelous. How he wished to be there with you and shower your puffy cheeks with dozens of kisses, cradling your face in his big warm palms. It would be so lovely.

“I’ll just go and sleep with my angel then. I am sure she won’t be against having dada by her side.”

He hears Mimi yawn loudly and you make an ‘oof’ sound, promptly lifting the phone.

“Everything is alright?”

“Yeah… She just dropped her head onto my lap. And is staring at me, quite offended.”

“Oooh, now you are stuck,” he can't help but smirk, relishing the roll of your eyes. He knows better than anyone how heavy his pet is. Even he feels a strain in his back whenever he picks her up. Or maybe he is just getting old.

“Wow, thanks, General Obviousness. Mimi, your papa is so-”

Abruptly you are interrupted again, but this time by a quiet, almost inaudible sound of the doors opening. He sees your body lean forward and by a warning “Mimi, stay” he knows you are pinning the animal down. Which can mean only one thing…

“Mom?” A sweet sleepy voice of his daughter proves his assumption right. Suddenly, hearing just one word from her, the man wants to abandon what little work he has left and rush home to envelope the little wonder into his arms, hear her giggle and call him “dad” or “dada” or “papa” - he'd take anything, really, as long as it’s from his little one.

“What is it, baby? Having trouble sleeping?” Oh, but your voice is so beautifully tender, he wants to have it directly caress his ears, while he is cuddled into your body, your fingers running through his thick hair. Aeons, he is losing focus.

“I heard Mimi running,” the little voice gets closer and Jing Yuan sees how your shoulder tenses - the arm is undoubtedly wrapped around the lion’s body. “I thought that daddy came home… has he not yet?”

Now, he really wants to get home as soon as possible.

“No, sweety. But guess what? I am talking to him right now. Want to say hi?”

As you are leaning back, your husband reaches for the phone, holding it properly in his hands, heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting for the girl to climb onto the bed and settle at your side.

Stars above, she is a carbon copy of him. Fluffy hair, tucked behind her ears not to obscure the vision, keeping the pretty liquid gold eyes on display, a beauty mark under her eye is charming, just as a lovely smile, stretching mouth when she finally catches the glimpse of her father.

“Papa hiii!” Her little hands wave happily at him, a toothy grin even wider than before. Pure excitement written all over her drowsy expression is adorable, so cute in fact, that Jing Yuan fists the shirt on his chest in a silent cry of his heart.

“Hi, my little sparrow,” he speaks softly, gazing at her with so much love, while his mind is screaming with joy. “I am going to be home very soon. But I want you, and mama, and Mimi all to go to sleep.”

“But whyyy,” she whines, pouting. He also hears the lion grunt, as if understanding what he is saying, and you just shake your head with a small chuckle.

“Because papa wants you to be well-rested. He promised us a walk tomorrow, right?” Your hand goes to rest on top of her head, patting. “It’ll be too bad if we are sleepy, don't you think?”

“Mama is right. I know you miss me, baby, and I miss you terribly too. But if we want to spend the whole day together, doing everything you, princess, want, I have to complete some of my cases. That's why I am going to say my good night’s and get back to work to finish it.”

The white-haired girl sighs, dropping her head, letting the heavy fringe escape and cover her eyes.

“Being an adult is awful,” he hears her murmur a complaint and can’t help but agree. Though, if he wasn’t an adult, would’ve he ever had you and her? “But I get it, daddy. I am a big girl!”

“That’s my girl,” he gives her an encouraging smile, when she lifts her eyes again to look at him from under the bangs. His smile is almost immediately mirrored.

“So…” Jing Yuan catches your gaze (you have been watching this whole exchange with a fond look in your eyes) and shares unspoken affection. “Good night, my love.”

“Have you soon in my arms, dear,” you blow a kiss and he makes a grabby motion with his hand, bringing it to his very heart.

“Baby,” the girl perks, wiggling in her place and tucking her hair away when his attention is focused on her once more, “sweet dreams. I promise to stop by and kiss you on the cheek.”

“I'll be waiting- I mean sleeping! Have fun with work, daddy.”

“I will. Rub Mimi’s tummy for me, will you?”

“Mhm!”

Giving the two of you one last glance before hanging up, Jing Yuan is filled with the new found motivation. At that moment he thinks that busying himself for the full duration of the day is absolutely worth it, if he gets to give his girls undivided attention tomorrow.

And he will be damned if he lets something ruin it.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x fem!reader #jing yuan #dad!jing yuan #hsr fluff

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fcthots · 7 months

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“I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.” with protective upset and slightly unhinged jason would be so so good oh my god. like if something bad happens to reader and he has to get violent to defend her… yeah.

-🧸

You were on you way home, out later than you should have been, but your friend needed moral support after a breakup and you lost track of time.

Unfortunately while both you & Jason's apartment and your friend's were just off the edge of crime alley, your friend's apartment was on the opposite end of you and Jason. All of this is to say, unless you wanted to be out after midnight, you had to pass through crime alley after dark. It was just a five minute walk there, when daylight spared you of most of the dangers of Gotham, but it was pitch black now. You should have driven, but at the time it didn’t seem necessary.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You walked as fast as possible.

You didn’t even have a purse on you. Your phone was in the leather jacket Jason had bought you as a present and you had 20 dollars stuffed somewhere in your pant pockets.

Were you supposed to turn left here? Yeah, you recognize that streetlamp.

You would call Jason, but your phone is fucking dead and it's not like you were gonna ask your crying friend for a charger. And you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside with no way to get back into your friends apartment.

You were in the home stretch, just in the outskirts of crime alley. Almost freedom.

Never let it be said that you were lucky. All of your luck was used getting your hot ass boyfriend. Luck gone.

The man had a knife and was screaming for your wallet. Your wallet that you did not bring with you.

"Give me the wallet or I'm gonna spill your guts on the fucking ground!"

Just because your boyfriend was scary looking, did not mean you were used to scary men, especially ones that yelled at you. Your hands shook and you weren't sure what to do.

"I don’t have it. All I have is 20 dollars, please."

"That's a fucking lie. I see your jacket. I know that shit is expensive. Lie to me again and I'll slit your throat."

Fuck. If you had to guess, it would be Jason that would find your body. You didn’t want it to be Jason. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing your lifeless eyes. You know what it's like to look into your soulmates lifeless eyes and realize they're gone forever; you were hoping Jason would never have to experience that.

"It's-"

"Tough luck... I guess I could accept other forms of payment."

He bares his teeth in a grin as he sees the look on your face.

"Unless you'd prefer that no one ever finds your body?"

You're really glad you told Jason you loved him before he left for patrol.

The man starts getting closer to you. You can't talk, can't scream, can't think. You were gonna die alone.

You think you mumble out a 'please' before your back hits the wall. His knife was to your throat, but all you could think about was Jason.

There was a bang that you didn’t fully register. Before you could think twice about it, your mugger was on the ground. You didn’t move. You stayed, frozen, silent tears running down your cheeks.

"Shh, it's ok. You're ok. It's me."

You finally focused your eyes and saw the white lenses staring at you, his arms in the air.

You babbled nonsense. You couldn't breathe.

You tried to back away from the man on the floor, but you almost fell. You swore your legs were going to give out. Jason was at your side in less than a second. He lifted you over the bleeding body on the ground, supported your weight as your knees buckled.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck and you choked on air.

"I've got you. Match my breaths, ok? Good. You're doing great. You're ok, I promise."

All you could manage to get out was his name.

"'M right here. Just breathe. Focus on that for me." His hand cradled the base of your neck.

Eventually you stopped crying. Eventually you could breathe again. Eventually Jason led your face away from his neck to look at you. Your whole body shook. You watched as he drew his hand up to his helmet and heard this hiss and click and he took it off. He took your jaw in one of his hands.

He wiped the splattered blood and tears off your cheeks with a gloved hand, traced the trail of fresh blood and broken skin on your neck from where the knife was pressed against you. “I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”

You looked into his eyes as they flashed an inhuman green, and you believed him.

Bonus:

"Wait, Jay. Did you just happen to stumble across me?"

"There...may or may not be a tracker in the jacket I bought you... You were in one place for too long."

"I hate that that makes me feel safer."

He smiles apologetically. "I love you."

"I love you too."

#tw: sa mention #tw: sa threat #I am the angst queen #saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst #red hood x reader angst #red hood angst #angst #🧸 anon

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tomorrcwz · 1 month

Text

✰ LATE NIGHT'S DESIRE , O. PIASTRI

[ preview ] working as a mclaren strategist for years, the newest driver is the perfect candidate to satisfy your hunger — he does make it easy for you, coming to your door in the middle of the night.

[ tw ] smut, unprotected sex, dom!fem!reader, teeny tiny little bit of corruption kink, spit kink, inappropriate work relationship | gif by @princemick

[ a/n ] idk what this is but yeah slay or whatever bruh. Might write more smut about oscar, I'm really fixed on him rn + ITS MELBOURNE GP and in honor of that i had to write a little something

. minors do not read | masterlist .

The sight of the quiet, charmingly awkward Oscar makes your blood pump fastly though your veins as the desire within you grows. You know its wrong, having inappropriate thoughts about a co-worker, one that isn't as secure as you are on the team but you can't help yourself with it; the need to fuck whoever is handsome and new is strong enough to make you black out rules.

First you had Lando — he was eager to fuck you as you pleased, then you had to have Daniel, who mind you, wasn't as easy to get in your bed and he also wasn't to corrupt as he was the one to mirror your actions and pull some stuff. Sadly it ended rather fast with him getting a girlfriend. But you still have Lando every other month as the boy can't keep a girl around, making him fall regularly in your bed or wherever you are to fuck. It's not that fun anymore, quiet bland. The routine is always the same — first he'll finger you to get you wet enough and then you push him to whatever surface and take his cock. Afterwards you clean yourself, Lando already out of the door.

So, that brings you to Oscar.

He's fresh blood, newly single, and dear lord in heaven over the winter break he put on a lot more muscles, looking ridiculous strong, causing your pussy to flutter whenever you see him. You flirt with him quite often and you do see his brown eyes cloud with lust, but you want to take your time. There's no need to rush.

But the day comes.

Its Sunday night, hours after the race and celebrations of Oscar taking P3, when you hear knocks on the door of your hotel room. Reaching for your phone, the homescreen only shows a few messages from people you're currently not interested in responding. No Lando. Normally, he'd shot a text beforehand, so you're not sure of who is standing opposite the wooden door.

Breathing in, you swing your bare legs off the bed and walk across the room, opening the door. The sight greeting you leaves your mouth agape — Oscar's wearing an maroon satin shirt, tucked into a pair of black slacks. On his thick fingers are two rings which you've never seen him wear but it suits him. He looks hot, even more so with his hair all toulouse and a curl glued to his forehead. It's an indicator that he is influenced by Lewis and Guanyu, both very fashionable drivers on the grid, and you could kiss them right now because Oscar has never looked this hot. He is but this is otherworldly.

"Everything alright, Oscar?", you ask, crossing your arms under your breasts and unintentionally pushing them up, presenting the man with your more than welcoming cleavage.

He can't help himself; his focus rests on the soft curves of your tits, the skin glistening under a sweat film the heat of middle east brings.

Clearing his throat, the Mclaren driver, sends you a dashing smile. "Yes, actually I've missed you at the celebration and was wondering if you—", he stops himself, cheeks flaming hotly.

"If I want?"

You can see the thoughts running around faster than the car on the track earlier. Must be hard to grasp whatever plagues his mind.

"I was wondering if you'd celebrate with me", he whispers, somewhat bashful which is endearing.

"Sure, let me throw on something else to wear, can't go out in this", you say, hands moving across your body to clarify your point; due to the heat you're only wearing some boxers and a flimsy babydoll top. Oscar gazes at you, shaking his head. "No, no, I mean celebrate in, you know . .", he stumbles over the words, blush now burning his ears too.

Oh. Oh.

To end his misery, you catch his wrists to pull him inside before hitting the door close with your foot and shove him against it.

For the first time you kiss him, all teeth and tongue, and its different from what you have imagined — his hands are rougher, caressing your lower back, creeping under the top to feel the warm skin of yours. Grabbing you by the hips, he sloths his dick against your stomach and grinds. He doesn't feel small, maybe even bigger than his teammate. In your imagination, he was softer yet he let you guide him to bed exactly like dream-oscar did and falls backwards on top of the cream coloured sheets, breath hitching in anticipation.

"Remove your clothes, baby."

You reach for the hem of your top as you command him, letting him stare at your tits while he steps out of his bottoms and throws the shirt in a corner. His milky smooth skin's glowing in the dim lighting a street lamp spends, and you see a map of freckles on his chest as well as a happy tail lending down to his beautiful cock.

Spitting in your hands, slander finger gently touch his length, causing Oscar's head to fall back, lips wide agape and you take the opportunity to spit in his mouth. "Shallow, Osc, be a good boy f'me, yeah?", you coe, hot breath fawning the auricle. He does, groaning lowly but its getting louder when you bring your legs on either side of his lap, left hand grabbing his cock and coating it in your wetness before probing the fat mushroom tip at your pussy, gliding down till every inch is inside you.

The feeling of his cock might aswell change everything; he's the biggest you've ever taken, scraping and burning you inner spongy walls deliciously as he kisses your cervix.

Fuck Lando, he doesn't have anything on Oscar.

"M so full, you're filling me up so good, baby", the praise let the man smile in a haze, far lost in how good you ride him. Your wet hole holds his grith snuggly as you fuck yourself on his cream coated length — his eyes roll back in pleasure at the sight of a white ring forming on the base of his dick, something he has never seen before, and it spurrs him on to grind his hips into yours, getting a worish wail out of you.

You fuck him till his abdomen thighten and he pumps you full of cum, that is oozing out of your desperately moving body, chasing your own orgasm. Oscar leans in, bitting on your pulse point. Then you fall over the edge, legs shaking as you still on top of him.

After catching your breath, you charmingly smirk at him before he grinds up in your fluttering hole — he's already getting hard again.

#f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1

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emeryleewho · 1 year

Text

I've noticed that people take writing advice way too literally and then get really mad about it, so here's a quick guide of what the typical "bad' writing advice is actually trying to tell you.

[Note: you don't have to take literally any piece of advice. It's just there for your consideration. If you hate it, leave it and do things the way you want. But the reason all of this advice is regurgitated so often is because it has helped a lot of people, so it's okay if it's not for you, but it may still be life changing for someone else.]

Write Every Day

"Write every day" is NOT supposed to be a prescriptivist, unbreakable rule that dictates anyone who doesn't write literally every day isn't a real writer. It's supposed to be a shorthand way of saying "establish a writing routine. Get used to writing at certain times or in certain places or in certain patterns, both so that you can trick yourself into writing even when you don't feel like it by recreating certain conditions, but also because if you only write "when you're in the mood", you may never get around to finishing a project and you likely won't be able to meet publishing deadlines if you decide to pursue publication."

The point of this advice is basically just to get used to seeing writing as part of your daily routine, something that you do regularly. But if you decide you can't write on Tuesdays or weekdays or any day when you have certain other activities, that's literally fine. Just try to make it a habit if you can.

2. Show Don't Tell

"Show don't tell" DOES NOT AND HAS NEVER meant "never state anything plainly and explicitly in the text". Again, "show don't tell" is a shorthand, and its intended message is "things tend to feel a lot more satisfying when your reader is able to come to that conclusion on their own rather than having the information given to them and being told they just have to accept it." It's about giving your reader the pieces to put the puzzle of your book together on their own rather than handing them a finished puzzle and saying "there. take it."

So if you have a character who's very short-tempered, it's typically more satisfying that you "show" them losing their cool a few times so that the reader can draw the conclusion on their own that this character is short-tempered rather than just saying "He was short-tempered". Oftentimes, readers don't want to take what you tell them at face value, so if you just state these sorts of details, readers will push back against that information. People are significantly more likely to believe literally any information they are able to draw conclusions on without being told what to believe, so that's where this advice comes in.

3. In Medias Res

This one is so often misunderstood. "In medias res" or "start in the middle", DOES NOT MEAN to literally start halfway through your plot. It also DOES NOT MEAN that you should start in the middle of an action packed scene. It just means that when you start your story, it should feel like the world and the characters already existed before we started following them. It shouldn't feel like everything was on pause and the world and characters only started acting the moment the story begins.

This is why starting with a character waking up or something similar can feel jarring and slow. We want to feel instantly compelled by your character, and the most efficient way to do that is [typically] to have them already doing something, but that something can be anything from taking a shower to commuting to school to chopping off a dragon head. We just want to feel like the story is already moving by the time we enter.

4. Shitty First Drafts

The idea that you should let your first draft suck and not revise it as you go is a tip presented to combat the struggle a lot of people have with not being able to finish a draft. If you find you've been working on the same first draft for five years and barely gotten anywhere, you might want to try this advice. The point is to just focus on getting to the ending because finishing a draft can give you renewed energy to work on the book and also makes it easier to get feedback from readers and friends.

That said, if your story is flowing fine even as you go back and make edits, then don't worry about this. This is advice specifically designed to target a problem. Likewise, this doesn't mean that you can't clean up typoes when you see them or even make minor edits if you want to. It just means not to let yourself get completely bogged down by making changes that you never move forward.

A "shitty first draft" also doesn't mean that your story has to be completely illegible. It just means that you shouldn't let perfectionism stop you yet. I see a lot of people say "well, I can't keep going until this first part makes sense", and that's totally reasonable! Again, the point of this advice is just to get you out of that rut that keeps you from making progress, but if you spend a couple weeks editing and then move on or you find the book is still making forward strides while you edit, then you're fine. You don't need this.

5. Adverbs

The idea that you "shouldn't use adverbs" DOES NOT MEAN that any time you use an adverb, you're ruining your story. It just means that you shouldn't *rely* on adverbs to carry your story, namely in places where stronger verbs or nouns would do a lot more heavy lifting.

For instance, you can write "she spoke quietly", but generally speaking, that "quietly" there is a lot weaker than just subbing out this clause for "she whispered". You probably have the word "spoke" all over your draft, so subbing out one instance of it here for a stronger verb in place of the same verb + an adverb makes for stronger prose. This doesn't mean that you'll never want to use the phrase "spoke quietly" over the word "whispered". For instance, if I write, "When she finally spoke, she spoke quietly, like that was all the volume her weakened lungs could muster." In this case, I'm using "spoke quietly" specifically *because* it echoes the previous spoke earlier in the sentence, and it evokes a certain level of emotion to have that repetition there. I also used it because she's not actually "whispering", but trying to speak at full volume only to come off sounding quiet.

So when people tell you to cut adverbs, they're saying this because people often use adverbs as a crutch to avoid having to seek out stronger verbs. If you're using your adverbs intentionally, having considered stronger verbs but ultimately deciding that this adverb is what does the job properly, then there's nothing wrong with using them. This is just a trick to help you spot one common weakness in prose that a lot of authors don't even realize they have.

6. Write What You Know

This is potentially the single worst-underestood piece of writing advice. "Write what you know" DOES NOT MEAN to write only what you know or that you have to put all of your life's knowledge on the page. It just means that drawing from your own experiences and already there knowledge will help you craft a better story.

So, for instance, being an eye doctor doesn't mean you have to write a story about an eye doctor. It doesn't even mean you need to write a story that directly deals with any eye knowledge. It just means that there are likely things you've experience as an eye doctor that can help inspire or inform your story. Maybe you remember a patient who always wore the same yellow shoes, and so you include a character who does exactly that. Maybe you spent a lot of hours dealing with insurance so you decide to write about insurance agents. Maybe your practice was located next to a grocery store so you decide to write a zombie apocalypse story that takes place in a location inspired by that shopping center.

The point is that, as people, our lived experiences allow us to relate to other people and craft more believable worlds. So don't limit yourself to your lived or experience or feel obligated to only write the things you've done, but when you find yourself wondering what to write about next or how to give a character more depth or how to describe this random location, pull things from your life and let what you already know bring a certain level of unique you-ness to your writing.

And the MOST important advice I can give you is to stop looking at writing advice as some holy, unbreakable rules passed down by the gods that you cannot ever deviate from. And if a piece of advice sounds totally bonkers, do some research on it. There's a good chance that whoever's passing it to you has no idea what they're talking about. But even if every other writer swears by a certain piece of advice, you absolutely do not need to take it. Try it on if you want, and throw it away if you don't, but stop making yourselves miserable by letting random internet people dictate your life. Most people giving advice on the internet aren't where you want to be anyway, so don't expect them to be able to guide you somewhere they've never been.

Everything's made up, and nothing matters. Write what you want.

#writing advice #long post #writing #author

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hoshigray · 1 year

Text

Repeat that for Daddy...

Okay, walk with me on this one: you and Toji are lying on the bed enjoying the acts of "coupling", and you accidentally call him "daddy"? Obviously, it was a slip-up in the heat of the moment, but unfortunately, it's Toji. He won't stop until you say what you just said.

A/n: I'm totally not writing this to compensate for the fact I haven't posted pt ii of the assassin duo toji x reader drabble yet :) Which tysm for 500+ notes btw!!! Please enjoy this while I finish that fic for y'all~~

Cw: dom! Toji x fem! reader - fingering (fem! receiving) - daddy kink (it's an awakening for Toji) - pet names (baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - praise - clitoral play (Toji pinches your clit bc he's a bastard) - pussy slaps (2x) - a bit of comedy.

Wc: 893

One of Toji's favorite things to do when you two are relaxing in the confines of your home is cuddling with you. It was a foreign thing you introduced to him in the early stages of your relationship, but now he likes to do it when the chance is present.

Having your body close to him tells him that you see him as a dependable figure and that you feel safe in his presence. Which he cherishes deeply. And it's a guilty pleasure when you let him have his hands roam your body.

And it's even more of a guilty pleasure when you let him play with your pussy.

The lewd sounds of Toji's fingers messing with your pussy and your ecstatic moans fill the bedroom, the television volume stationed low so he can focus on your face and expressions.

"Mmmm, Toji, A-Ahhh!."

He's lying on his side with his head resting on his hand, facing your squirming body with his forefinger and middle finger in your slit. You lay on your back next to him, gripping his shirt to the point his midriff shows.

"I'm here, baby," Toji kisses your forehead, trailing down to your neck and shoulder. "I'm right here."

He loves it when you're like this, being in this intimate space where you trust him to do as he pleases with your body. He wants to listen to your mewls and gasps because they're the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. Your watery, half-lidded eyes look up at him, the man who makes you appear so disarranged with his touch.

Toji loves moments like this, loves being with you, loves you.

"Feelin' good, darlin'?" He asks, kissing your collarbone where he'll definitely leave a mark for you to find later on. "You're doin' so well fr' me."

"Haaaaah, yes, yesss," you hiss, biting your bottom lip when Toji's thumb faintly brushes on your clit. His thick fingers scrape the velvety walls of your cunt at a lovingly slow pace that has you inching toward a climax.

"Oh God, Tojiii, I'm going to— Ahaaa!!" You're so close to coming, almost there. "I wanna cum on your fingers, Daddy..."

Toji's kisses are halted, his fingers freeze inside your slick-coated vulva, and even you stay still with wide eyes staring up at the bedroom ceiling. White noise from the television substitutes the silence.

Toji brings his face up to look at you, and your eyes move to the side, trying to find anything to look at except the deep forest green eyes drilling into your face.

"What did you say, sweetie?"

You act innocent. "Huh?"

Toji smirks. "If you can 'huh,' you can hear. You said somethin'. What did you say?

"Uhh, I said I wanna chow on some chicken fingers, darling."

"That's not what you said. And we ate two hours ago."

"T-True!" You squeak, squeezing around Toji"s digits. He raises a brow, his smirk still confidently plastered on his face. "But I know how much you have a big appetite, and who can say no to dinosaur-shaped nugge- Eyyaaah!!!"

It happened so quickly; Toji's fingers exit your tight opening and pinch your clitoris, applying pressure between his thumb and forefinger. The abrupt action has you screaming, and all Toji does is snicker.

"Don't play with me, sweetheart," he says to your ear in his guttural tone. A hearty laugh seethes through his lips when you jerk up from the impact of his hand slapping your pussy. You shed a single tear, and Toji snaps a mental picture. Another slap, another cry. "What's my new name, baby?"

"D-Daddy!!" You swallow the drool pooling in your mouth before choking on it. Pain stinging on the poor swollen lips of your vagina from the cruel treatment, your mind feels foggy. The feeling of regret clouds your thoughts, wondering why you let that word out. And worse, giving the title to a man with an ego bigger than anyone you've ever known. I should've kept my mouth shut...

But you can't deny the puddle that's leaking through your cunt.

Toji grins hard, his scar rooted upwards for his teeth to flash with the light coming from the TV. "Good girl." His fingers snake back into your folds, and you whimper into his touch as his digits go faster than before. "Can you call me that again, mama?"

"Mmmph!! Daddyyy, too fast, 's too fa— Oohhh!!" You grip his shirt again, finding support close to him. Your pants and breathing feel so heavy you nearly choke.

"Gonna cum, baby?" You nod rapidly. He loves when you're desperate. "Go ahead, cum on Daddy, darlin'." His thumb then moves directly to your clit, pushing and grinding down on it, and that was it for you.

You cream around his fingers, walls clenching down on him as your legs wobble in ecstasy. Tears stream down your eyes as you finish your orgasm.

Toji's fingers finally withdraw once your spasm ends, and strings of your fluids stick to him like honey. "Good job, mama," he puts the fingers in his mouth and licks them, deep groans as he's sucking in your essence. He then kisses your lips, giving you a taste of yourself as you exchange tongues.

Toji departs from your plump lips, cocking his head with a small smile. "You outta call me that more often, starting to like it."

3K notes · View notes

sprainedwriting · 1 month

Text

Bad idea, right?

Adam x fem!reader

Summary: You weren’t really known for your good decision making skills.

Part 2

CW/TW: first attempt at smut, Adam is his own warning, unsafe sex, semi public, college au!!!, dubious consent if you squint, oral both reciving, p in v

The golden door knob of the bathroom door dug uncomfortably into your lower back, and outside of the room music was playing loudly. And even though the bathroom was neatly stocked and you usually take your time to snoop around and steal stuff from frat parties, right now all you could focus on was Adam’s hand in the back of your neck, forcefully frenching you while he pinned you against the door.

The kiss was disgustingly wet, teeth clanking together and his tongue shoved down your throat. And it was still the best make out session you ever had with anyone.

And the best part of it all? His tongue piercing. Hottest thing you have ever experienced.

When your lips disconnected you were connected by a string of saliva. But it seemed like Adam hated the mere thought of not touching you in anyway. The hand on your neck quickly moved towards your hips, together with his other one. Shit. His hands are huge. Fuck that, he was big in general. He had to bend his neck and back at an awkward angle to be able to kiss you.

Golden eyes starred right into your own eyes. His pupils were blown wide and his lips were pink and wet, his face in general was slightly flushed. You wish you could keep your composure like that. Your whole body felt hot, and you probably also looked that part. The way Adam smirked at you confirmed your fear. Before you could throw some sort of remark at him, he started kissing and biting your neck.

You couldn’t suppress the surprised gasp leaving your mouth and the shaky call of Adam’s name. Adam’s right hand weaselled his way under your shirt groping your tits, while his left hand went towards your ass, making itself at home in the back of your jeans pocket.

Your own hands grasped at Adam’s hair. Fingers digging into the surprisingly silky thick strands. Adam groaned at the seemingly present feeling. His left hand gave your ass a generous squeeze before he removed it and moved it towards unbuttoning your jeans.

“Adam-" you shakily called out, but you were interrupted by your own moan from Adam biting extra hard at your shoulder. Adam rolled his own hips into your own, or well, more like into your stomach because what the fuck why is he so tall and so big and has such broad shoulders and Jesus even his bulge is big can you really take that??

Collecting all your strength and will power, you pushed at Adam’s shoulders to give yourself some sort of space. Even though that push was weak as fuck, Adam followed your wish and gave you some space. A little. His hips were still flush with your own but at least he straightened his back a little and you guys weren’t breathing in the same air anymore. Your hand was still grasping at Adam’s shoulder, into his black shirt. Because you truly didn’t want him to leave. He raised his pierced brow in question at you.

“Dude, we won’t have sex in a bathroom. At a party.” You told him straight up. Your dignity couldn’t take it. And also if someone found out you were fucking your ex boyfriends most hated band member, at the nasty frat party he was throwing, in his bathroom, you would kill yourself from sheer embarrassment.

Adam rolled his eyes at you, as if you just told him the stupidest thing he has ever heard. His hands were on your hips now, massaging soothing circles into the plush flesh. You didn’t notice it, like 2 minutes ago, but thanks to Adam’s skilled fingers your pants were shimmed down a good bit, fully exposing your panties. Great. Since you didn’t plan to hook up with anyone today, you just had to wear your baby pink panties with the ugliest bow sewn into the front.

“Mmm, babe, who gives a fuck? People fuck at parties alllll the time, just.. relax, baby.” His thumb was now playing with the hem of your underwear.

Shaking your head at him, you tried to collect your 1 whole brain cell to remind you how bad of a decision this was. Using one hand to pull up your pants, you wanted to use to other hand, which was still holding unto Adam to push him away once and for all, but he was quicker than you. Damn you, guitarists players. He easily grasped both your wrists into his one hand and used the other one to pull you flush against him.

“Jesus! Alright, alright, we don’t have to fuck. We can do other fun stuff though.”

Before you could ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, he kissed you again. Probably to shut you up. He’s one to talk, you don’t think Adam has ever shut up, in his life.

Still keeping his tongue inside your mouth, and his hand on your body, he herded you away from the door. Which you didn’t even notice because all you could think and sense was him, till he sat you down at the edge of the bathtub. Your bare ass meet the cold porcelain, because Adam was already pulling both your jeans and underwear off. He was kneeling down in-front of you, a nice sight you had to admit.

Adam was currently grumbling to himself, because to properly take off your clothes he had to also take off your shoes and all he wanted was to get his dick wet and now he’s on his knees undressing you while his dick aches. Thankfully it didn’t take long for him to slip you out of your shoes, and in his slight frustration he simply threw them over his head, not caring where they landed.

“Fucking hell, you really know how to make a guy work for it, huh? Spread your legs, slut.” Adam placed his hands on your knees, his eyes were flickering between your hidden core and your eyes.

“What? No more ‘Babe’ and ‘Baby’. Sooo rude of you.” You teased him with a grin on your face. Actually you were nervous, no one ever went down on you. But, well, it’s not like you go around sleeping with everyone. You only ever slept with your ex and that experience was so horrid that you considered celibacy. Shit, if Adam wasn’t such a charming asshole you would have tried to shake him off like 3 make out sessions ago. But no, he had to spin your head around and made your insides into molten lava. Fuck.

“You really want to test my fucking patience? Dumb bitch…” He took matter into his own hands and gripped at your thighs to pull them apart. Even though his words implied something else, he was still gentle.

You quickly shut your legs again, your knees knocking together painfully at the force you used. Adam seemed to be even more aggravated.

“Wait!..Uh..I..Didn’t shave..?” You carefully spoke the words out loud. God help you. What did you even want. Do you want to leave?..No. You just need to get over yourself. Easier said than done.

“Babe, does it look like I give a shit?” Adam raised a pierced eyebrow at you. He gently rubbed your knees, looking into your eyes. And then he started laughing in realisation.

“What a fucking limb dick! You’re joking! Fucking useless excuse of a man. Next you’re going to tell me you’re a virgin.” Ah shit, he figured it out. Your body ran even hotter at Adam’s mocking of your ex. AH.

Adam’s face seemed to turn giddy, “Are you?”

You shook your head at his question.

“Eh, whatever. It’s better this way. Virgins they get sooo fucking clingy, it ain’t cute . But don’t worry, babe, it doesn’t matter how many guys you have fucked since I’m going to be last one.”

Before you could question him, he used your moment of confusion to settle properly between your thighs and he licked a broad strip up your pussy.

A moan escaped your lips, while one hand tangled into Adam’s hair and the other one covered the lower half of your face. Biting at your lip, you tried to remind yourself to breathe.

The delicious contrast between his hot tongue and cold piercing made you feel dizzy. You need him, genuinely.

Adam’s thick fingers found your entrance easily. He gently eased one finger in, which wasn’t hard since fuck you were wet from simply being near him.

His tongue drew pattern into your clit while his finger gently pushed in and out of you. Wait..Was he fucking spelling his name into your clit???

Your eyes where closed while you tried to focus on relaxing.

Adam’s free hand snacked up your torso and he pulled your shirt down, exposing your bra. With skill he was able to free your one (1) boob from the bra, and he pinched your nipple. Hard. At the same time his lips left your cunt and he also bit the inside of your thigh.

“Ouch! What the hell! Can’t you bite and pinch in a sexy way?” You asked him while starring into his golden eyes.

“Eyes on the price, baby, or I might just leave you high and dry.” He smirked at you, and when his lips returned to your desired place, he made sure to hold uncomfortable eye contact with you. Asshole.

Even though you were embarrassed to hell and back, you kept your own eyes trained on his. Fuck, he was good at this. You really were missing out till now. Keeping your moans and whimpers of Adams name at bay was near impossible.

He slowly entered another thick finger, stretching you out deliciously. And with a come hither movement of his fingers, he hit places which you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, Adam, please don’t stop pleasepleasepleaseplease-“ You couldn’t keep your composure anymore. What kind of witchcraft is he using that he can make you fall apart like that.

Adam stuffed you full with a third finger, sucking at you clit and carefully nipping it with his teeth. It wasn’t a big surprise, with the constant stimulation, that you came all over Adam’s face. Your thighs squished Adam’s head and your eyes were squeezed shut, while your fingers were tugging at Adam’s head. If you wanted to tug him away or towards you, you weren’t too sure.

Carefully removing his lips from your overly sensitive private parts, Adam whipped his face with the back of his hand while chuckling. Sucking his own fingers dry while starring into your soul, you tried to catch your breath.

“Aww, was that my baby’s first orgasm?” He mockingly cooed you. Adam got up from his kneeling position and rubbed his knees.

“Shut up.” You simply told him. Yeah, very creative of you.

Adam grabbed your cheeks into his hand and squeezed them together, “You ready to suck the best dick you will ever get?” He asked you while grabbing his hard dick through his cargo pants.

You turned your head slightly, trying to bite the thumb near your mouth. Adam took the opportunity to graze his thumb over your canine while you bit down on his thumb. You made sure not to actually hurt him. He smiled down at you and moved his thumb to massage your tongue.

You couldn’t help but to wrap your lips around his thumb and to suck it and stroke your tongue against the underside of it.

“Fuckkk babe, giving me a taste of how heavenly it will be? Jesus, I hope for you, you have a weak gag reflex.” He unbuckled his heavy, studded belt and unbuttoned his jeans to pull them down, together with his boxers. They had guitar prints on them. Cute.

Right. You really bit of more than you could chew. His huge fucking hands should have been your first warning.

So yeah, his dick was big. Huge, even. So what. You could handle that. Maybe you should have written your testament before coming to the party. Oh my god, how embarrassing will be this? Cause of death: Choked on a huge dick.

Of fucking course he had an prince albert piercing. The sluttiest piercing known to man. The golden, curved rod really suit him tho.

“Bitch, I swear to fuck, if you say that you don’t give blowjobs I’m going to-“ Adam slightly threatened you.

Rolling your eyes at his rambling, you wrapped your fingers around his cock and carefully licked his tip. You tried not to think too much about the fact that your fingers could barley wrap themselves around him. Adam’s hands immediately tangled themselves up in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail to keep the hair out of your face.

You tried to get as much spit on Adam’s member as you could, the more the better.

“Ah, fuck yeah, I love when bitches slobber all over my dick.” Adam smirked down at you.

Your lips were already wrapped around his tip, your tongue playing with the piercing. Even though you avoided it till now, you looked up at Adam to glare at him.

Obviously Adam didn’t take your glare serious, urging you with a hand at the back of your head to take in more of him. Rolling your eyes at his nonsense you obliged him, trying to relax your throat and to take more into your mouth. You really had to focus on breathing through your mouth.

Adam booped your nose, making you look up at him, “Shit, babe, you’re so goddamn pretty.” He mumbled.

His dick is down your throat AND that’s what’s making you blush. Ugh. You’re weak.

“Cmon, keep looking at me with those slutty eyes. Don’t you want to make daddy feel good?” Part of you cringed at his words, the other part got even more turned on. This was something you needed to addresses within yourself at 3 am when you’re questioning all of your life decisions.

In your try to get him even deeper down your throat, he hit the back of it, causing you to choke. Ugh. Adam groaned at the feeling. He trailed a finger across your throat, “Chillax, sweetie.”

His hips rolled forward, testing the limits of your gag reflex, “..But don’t worry, baby, we can train that gag reflex of yours away. It’s hot anyways when whores gag on my huge dick.”

Can he just shut up? You’re already sucking his dick, he doesn’t need to talk about other girls.

Even though you had your lips wrapped around your teeth to keep from hurting him, because of his words you slightly grazed the underside of his cock with your teeth.

Adam yanked you off his dick by your hair, glaring at you, “Watch it, whore.”

You couldn’t help the whine which escaped your throat at the lack of contact. But also your fucking jaw hurt already.

“That’s what I fucking thought. How about you beg for me to shove my dick down your throat, huh? Acting all ungrateful and shit..”

You pressed your lips tightly together. Could you get over your pride by begging for dick? Adam’s dick at that? The most obnoxious guy on campus?

Before this you have never really interacted with Adam, you only ever saw him in passing, thanks to your ex. The rumours floating around didn’t help you with truly ever interacting with him. But one thing you always were sure of with Adam, he had a starring problem. His golden eyes seemed to be constantly trained on your figure. So it didn’t really surprise you that he wanted you to keep your eyes on him.

“Adam, please…” You whimpered out. He has bewitched you body mind and pussy because what the fuck.

“Please what, slut?” His thumb was rubbing at your cheek gently.

Fucking hell, even though you just came your pussy was aching. And it was not like you didn’t sit right in front of the solution to your problems.

Making sure to look Adam in his half lidded when you gave your impression of puppy eyes or doe eyes or whatever stupid eyes could get him to fill you up.

“Adam, please I need you to fuck my..pussy. Please?” You asked him. Ah. You hate begging and dirty talk, most humbling experience in your life.

Adam seemed rather pleased at your words, till you got to the part where you asked him to fuck your pussy, at the prospect of that he turned down right giddy. Grasping under your arms, he pulled you up. A surprised little gasp left your lips, as you hang in the air for a second. Great, he’s strong. Why are you surprised? You knew that.

“Oh, baby, I can give it to you however you want. Against the wall? On the floor? Want to ride me till your little legs give out? I can fuck you in front of those idiots who think they deserve to simply look at you.” Adam grinned down at you.

All you could do was gap at him like a fish out of water. Your brain is fried. Adam could tell by the smirk adoring his face, because of course he could, “But apparently I already finger fucked that little brain of yours out off your head. Need me to make the big decisions, huh?”

You simply shook your head at him. Adam bend down to kiss you, tongue first obviously. You wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands were on your bare ass, squeezing and groping. With his body he herd you towards the sink. With great displeasure he ended the kiss, he gently turned you around, bending you over the sink carefully. When you looked up, you made direct eye contact with your mirror image. Ew. You looked messy af.

Letting your eyes wander even more up, you looked at Adam who stood behind you. His own eyes were focused on your ass. Or maybe your pussy. It was hard to tell. When he looked into the mirror he grinned at you. His hand softly ran over your back and butt, making you relax your muscles.

“Alright baby, you just gotta chillax for me. ‘Tis might be a stretch…” Adam slowly rubbed the tip of his dick against your clit and entrance while watching intensely your face through the mirror.

“Adam..Cmon don’t tease me.” You whined out.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, babe.”

And with that he slowly entered his thick tip into your tight cunt. His hands were on your hip, softly massaging them.

A stretch summoned it up pretty well, but it felt delicious. Thank Adam for his prep, otherwise you would have died. And you would have truly pulled through on that celibacy promise.

Moaning shamelessly, you bit your finger in an attempt to quiet down. Fuck fuck fuck, who knew Adam could hit all those spots.

“Fuuuck, you’re really sucking me in. Vice fucking grip, you really don’t want to let me go, huh?” A breathy laugh left his pink lips. His tongue wet his lips and then he bit down on it.

With every rock of his hips he entered more and more into you. Shit, he seems endless. Adam’s lips grazed across the back of your neck and shoulder blades. His stumbles scratched your skin deliciously. Sloppy kisses were placed on your shoulders.

“ Shit, if you keep squeezing me like that I won’t last long.” Adam mumbled into your skin. It seemed like those words weren’t meant for your ears.

You rested your heated cheek against the cool sink, so you could also successfully avoid looking at yourself being fucked into oblivion.

“Adam..” An especially well placed roll of his hips broke your sentence of in a moan, “You ever..Fuck! Ever thought about having a smaller dick..ha. Splitting me in two, Jesus.”

Adam raised his hand and spanked your ass, then he made sure to whisper directly into your ear, “Aww, my poor baby, gonna tap out? My dick too big to fit into that tight pussy? Shit, baby, I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. I will fuck you loose.”

Before you could tell him that, that is in fact not how that works, he started to pistol his hips into your own.

Grasping at the edges of the sink, you gasped and moaned at the amazing feeling. You get sex addicts now.

Adam mumbled something’s to himself, through your own haze of pleasure you only grasped a few words.

Grasping one hand under your chest, Adam hoisted you up so that your upper body was bend up. Your back against his chest. His own face was right besides yours, turning your face towards his. Your lips crashed into each other. With his one hand he fondeled and pinched your nipple of your still freed tit.

You stopped the kiss to gasp for air, while Adam seemed to have the time of his life, “Watcha think babe, think we should get these here pierced?” To emphasise he his words, he gave an extra hard tug to your nipple. All you could muster up was a pathetic whine.

How he can talk so much while you’re basically brain dead was beyond you.

Adam snaked the other hand down your body, gently rubbing circles into your clit.

You would like to personally thank other woman Adam has ever slept with who made him into this sex god. Because my god, does he have magic fingers. And a magic tongue. And a magic dick. He’s also a great kisser. And is handsome. And rich. His style is also decent. Now, all you need is to fix up his personality, and he would be perfect.

“You close, baby?” Adam groaned into your ear.

Nodding your head furiously, a hit of clarity washed over your brain, “Wait- Adam..Do..Ah! Don’t come inside, ‘m not on birth control.”

This seemed to straight up turn Adam even more on.

“Don’t talk dirty to me, slut. Want me to knock you up? Make you all round ‘n shit?” His one hand moved from your boob to your stomach, grabbing the plushy flesh.

You tried to shake your head, but shit his words turned you on so much. You're realising more about yourself during a one night stand than during your therapy sessions. What does that say about you?

“Shit, the way you’re squeezing me just screams yes.” Adam went to apply more pressure on your clit, causing you to sob due the overwhelming pleasure.

And just like that you came around his dick, you felt yourself squeeze him dry. It didn’t take long for Adam to come after you. You felt his hot cum fill you up.

Adam left soft kisses across your neck and shoulder soothing rubbing his hands all over your body. You focused yourself on breathing in and out while steadying your breath.

Carefully Adam slipped out of your abused hole, but he kept his arms wrapped around your stomach. You leaned your back against Adam’s broad chest, your legs felt weak as hell.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, it made you realise how bad you actually looked. You can’t step outside like that. Obviously your whole body was flushed. The neck line of your shirt was pulled down your boobs, showing off your bra while only one tit was actually out. Most of your skin was covered in hickies and bite marks while your hair looked like a birds nest. You’re wearing 0 pants and Adam’s cum was slowly dripping down your thights. Great, now you have to go and buy plan b.

Properly fixing your bra and shirt, to at least make you feel somewhat better, you tried ti smooth out your hair next.

“What’s your opinion on that?” Adam’s chin was resting on your shoulder while he was watching intensely.

“..What? Getting knocked up?? Horrible.” You frowned at him.

“Would be hot. Nah, getting you pierced up, babe.” Adam’s grin pisses you off lowkey. Note to yourself: never trust Adam with birth control.

You scoffed at him, “Isn’t the healing process annoying?”

“Nah, it ain’t that bad.”

“How would you even know?”

Taking a half step back, an arm still wrapped around you though, he pulled up his black shirt. Showing off his own golden nipple piercings. Ok, thats sexy.

Averting your own eyes, you looked around the bathroom to look for your panties and pants. Ah, they’re still by the bathtub.

Adam was once again close to you, now he was smoothing down your hair.

You have listened to your friends bitch and moan about situation ships who they can’t get enough off. And you had to admit, you didn’t fucking get it. But now, with Adam’s lips against your hair line? Yeah. You’re whipped now.

Useless fuck boys.

Adam scratched at his stubbly chin, “I gotta piss, slut. Want to hold it while I do?”

“No.” What the fuck.

“Your loss, bitch.” He shrugged at you.

Shaking of his arms, you waddled around to put on your pants. You tried to avoid looking at Adam real hard. When you were fully dressed, you stole a glance at Adam. Yup, he was standing at the toilet. Fucker.

Looking around, you found your shoes near the door. Walking over, you stumbled around to put them properly on.

Putting your ear against the door, you tried to listen for any foot steps or chatting. Sadly the sound of Adam and the music outside made it really hard. Should you really go through the door? What else could you do?

And there was a knock now on the door, making you jump up.

“Occupied!” Adam yelled out.

“Dude, this bath has been occupied for over 30 minutes now! Get the fuck out!” Ah shit, that’s the voice of your ex. Now you’re really going to die.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you looked helplessly towards Adam, who was now zipping up his pants.

He walked over and was about to unlock the door, when you slapped away his hand.

You mouthed “What the fuck!” At him. Adam simply rolled his eyes at you and then raised his eyebrow at you. Yeah. What were you going to do?

Wait…This bathroom was at ground level. Looking around, you spotted the window behind the bathtub. Quickly walking over, you opened up the window and looked outside. Ok, no one is there. And you can easily climb out.

Swinging your leg over, you carefully slided down towards the ground.

You heard a “What the hell.” From Adam, before the sound of the door unlocking ringed out.

“Jesus dude, it smells like fucking sex in here. Don’t tell me..” Before you could fully listen in on the conversation you decided to fuck off.

Pulling out your phone, you looked up a 24 hour pharmacy near you. It wasn’t that far away from your apartment. With a sigh you started to walk towards your destination. You pointedly ignored all the texts from your friends. You really needed to collect your thoughts now.

Standing still on the side walk, you realised that Adam neither flushed the toilet nor washed his hands. That’s who you let it hit?? Why can’t you be attracted to normal guys, but no you’re into the trashiest of the trash.

The light of a car flashed you in the face, and the car stopped besides you.

“You still want plan b?” Adam called out through the open window.

Starting a mental battle and immediately losing it, you got into the passenger seat.

Adam’s eyes traveled over your figure before he put the car into drive and started driving towards the pharmacy. It was a quick drive and before you could unbuckle your seat belt Adam already got out and walked in.

While Adam was away you took the time to look around. Those were pretty leather seats and this car looked down right expensive. It smelled like his cologne in here.

Adam was one of the many nepo babies at your college. Your ex was also one of them. Even though they dressed in an alternative style, these guys never had to truly struggle, never experienced hunger. Part of you was envious of that.

Adam got back into the driver seat, slamming his door shut. He carelessly threw the pill package into your lap with a cold water bottle.

“..Thanks.” Ripping apart the package, you placed the pill under your tongue while putting the bottle to your lips and then you swallowed it down.

Once you stopped drinking, you wiped away the water with the back of your hand.

Adam took your cheeks into his hand, squeezing it. You furrowed your brows at him in question.

…Ah.

Opening up your mouth, your lifted your tongue up and moved it around to show him you really did swallow the pill. Maybe he should just not cum inside you, problem solved.

“Shit babe, next time I gotta cum down your little throat.”

Next time, huh.

#hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam smut #adam x reader #cw smut

489 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 1 month

Text

birthday present w/ yunho

words - …

genre - smut

warnings - degradation, dumbification, free use, mentions of collaring, choking, marking

you can’t help but feel a little nervous as yunho stumbles into your apartment all bright eyed and giddy

he kicks his shoes off in a hurry before practically running over to the sofa and vaulting it so he can get ti you

you can barely mutter out a ‘happy birthday,’ before his mouth is on yours, silencing you with a gentle kiss

it’s soft and sweet, and you melt into it - melt into him - leaning against his chest before he pulls away with a giggle

he takes the opportunity to tug you into his side, tucking you beneath his arm and pressing another kiss to the crown of your head

“thank you, sweetheart,” he practically giggles into your ear, “cant believe i’m so old this year.”

you can only giggle as he continues to joke, telling you all about the nursing home he wants you to put him in

it isn’t until you shift the hand holding the envelope with his gift in that his words peter out, and he gives you an excited look

“is that for me?” he points to the envelope and you nod, “can i have it?”

with an anxious smile you pass it to him

he marvels it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, as if he’s never seen an envelope before

“sorry it isn’t very big,” you cuddle up into him, loving the way his voice fills his chest and rumbles against your ear, filling up your brain with warmth

“you think i need anything big?” he grins down at you, “you could give me a lump of coal and i’d be happy because it’s from you.”

cheesy boy, you think to yourself; it’s cute, and you savour the moment knowing it won’t last

not after he’s seen your gift to him anyway…

he tears into the envelope, briefly cooing at the cute card you’d given him until the little pink slip inside it catches his eye

you’d spent a few hours decorating it last night, making it look all pretty as if he even cared about the design of it

as if he cared about anything other than the three words written across it in cursive

he pulls it out and his breath audibly hitches in his throat

“f-free use coupon,” he stutters, words garbling as they fall from his lips, “you mean… like actual free use? whenever i want?

your anxiety rests deep in your chest as he stares at you with his jaw hanging open

still, you find it in you to nod, a pretty hum falling from your lips as you let him know that that’s exactly what it means; whenever he wants

“from now until the same time tomorrow,” you chew on your lip, “you can use me whenever, however you want.”

a groan falls from his lips at your answer, low and deep; he covers it with a cough but you still hear it

then you notice the way he shuffles his hips to accommodate the tent growing beneath his sweats, desperately trying to make it seem less obvious

clearly he’s more into the idea of using you for his own pleasure than you originally thought

not that you shouldn’t have expected this; one of yunho’s favourite things to do it move you around like his own personal rag doll

his big hands all over you as he flips you over and holds you open for him

one hand on the back of your head as he pressed your face into a pillow, the other resting on your hips, angling them perfectly so he can slam into you over and over again

the memories send a needy shiver down your spine, so you force them away and instead focus back on the present…

“are you sure, sweetheart?” his voice is deeper when he speaks, and it’s clear he’s trying to keep the horniness at bay

“i wouldn’t be giving this to you if i wasn’t sure, yuyu,” you say, a cheeky grin on your face, “i am your gift; mind, body and soul.”

at the thought of you being entirely his, he groans again, but this time he doesn’t bother to hide it

it goes straight to your core, dampening it slightly

“well i guess you won’t need your clothes,” he says through his moan, voice coming out whiny and pretty, “if i have access to your body for 24 hours, then i want real access, pup.”

… pup

that nickname goes straight to your core too

he only ever calls you that when he’s being mean in bed, tone dripping with condescension as he puts you in your place and dumbs you down to nothing

you stare at him with wide eyes as your hole involuntarily clenches; you have to admit that you love nothing more than when yunho is mean

“don’t just stare at me with those big, dumb eyes,” he smirks as your hands immediately fly to the button of your jeans, “that’s my good girl.”

you’re melting already, and yunho knows it

he must have a mental list of all the buttons he has to push to get you all pliant and obedient

not that it really takes much; you’re obedient for him most of the time

there’s just something about his deep voice drawling out a ‘good girl,’ that sends shivers running through your body

and when he holds out his hand to take possession on your panties, you don’t even think twice before putting them gently in his palm

you’re his good girl after all!

he brings them to his nose and takes a sniff, inhaling the musky scent of your juices; you turn shy at the sight of his eyes fluttering closed

“sweet as always, tiny,” he mumbles as he pulls them away and tucks them into his back pocket, “i bet you taste just as good, right? so yummy for me…”

a hand flies to your core, a single finger swiping through your folds to collect the juices that are starting to gather there

he smears them around, avoiding the sensitive nub that throbs in need; he doesn’t quite want to give into you just yet

he pulls it away after mere moments and wastes little time in slipping it into his mouth, moaning as he swirls his tongue around his digit

he pulls it out with a pop and an adorable, lop-sided grin forms on his lips

in any other circumstance it would be cute; right now it just makes you feel tiny

“your pussy is my favourite flavour, pup,” he says, “but i’ll save eating it until later, yeah? i have got all day, after all.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you until you’re flat against the couch, naked and exposed underneath him

he begins to move, shuffling until he’s towering over you making you feel even smaller beneath him

large hands land on either side of your head as he crawls over you, aligning his pelvis with your own

he grinds down once on your clothed pussy, his own grunt harmonising with your soft moan; the two of you sound like you are meant for one another

“i don’t think this gift was really for me,” he whispers as he grinds down again, harder this time, “i think this is just some twisted little fantasy of yours.”

his lips are on your neck in seconds, nibbling, biting and licking all over the sensitive flesh

no doubt you’d have marks aplenty by the time the 24 hours are over; hickeys and teeth marks littering your chest, your thighs, and anywhere else he can put his lips

there’s just something about seeing you covered in the physical proof that you are his that drives him absolutely wild

in fact, he’s often found himself in a pet store looking at their collection of dog collars and wondering which one would fit your pretty neck

it’s a nice thought, but for some reason it feels so much nicer to see you in a collar made of his hickeys instead

besides, it’s not like his hand wouldn’t do a similar job anyway, his fist wrapped around your throat, pinning you to his chest as he desperately fucks into you from behind

“i thought you’d appreciate it,” you whimper as his sweats work hard to spread your wetness around

“and i do, pup,” he grunts, “but your wet little pussy is telling me just how bad you want this; to be my personal cocksleave whenever i want.”

he pushes his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring free, painting your stomach with a splatter of pre-cum

“you’re my greedy little pup, aren’t you?”

he lines himself up and pushes himself in with one long, hard stroke

it makes you cry out as his tip rams against your cervix; he kisses you to swallow the sound

and when he pulls away, just seconds later, he begins to pull out again

you moan as he finds his rhythm, moving in and out at a painfully languid pace

hard and slow, each thrust fills you perfectly to the brim with yunho before he pulls back out and repeats

“but that’s okay, greedy little pup,” he grins as he stills deep inside of you, “i have all day to satiate you, don’t i?”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez headcanons #yunho oneshot #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho fluff #yunho fanfic

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gachagon · 2 months

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This is big spoilers for the commercials in the Awayfrompryingeyes website on the Welcome Home site.

I've been saying since DAY 1 that Eddie Dear was going to be one of the most important Neighbors to pay attention too, aside from Julie, Frank, and Sally. And this update just practically confirmed it, I had this long running suspicion about Eddie Dear, and it's that I think he was one of the first besides Wally to gain sentience in a way.

I know most people believe Wally was the one who "woke" up first essentially and was able to see the reality of what they were actually living in, but I think Eddie Dear was the first of Wally's friends to actually wake up. My reasoning for this is that Eddie's "backstory" on the neighborhood page is so vague and strange compared to the other neighbors. He's the ONLY one who doesn't remember where he came from, and we see routinely throughout these updates that he's kind of the odd man out a lot of the times.

And that's not totally unusual for a kids show, but there's something about Eddie that just points to him being a lot different from the other puppets. Like that he's also the only one who's able to actually tell what time it is, as he's the only neighbor with a real watch.

And he really REALLY wants to fit so badly into the world of Welcome Home that he sticks to his job as a mailman as much as he can. But even looking at his interactions with the others, you can tell he's not quite playing the role he's been set as perfectly.

I don't think Home (the house) had anything to do with Eddie waking up, I actually think it was a combination of Eddie just not being able to mesh well with the part he has to play and the other characters breaking his routine without asking him. The moment that really shakes him is when he can hear the Narrator say "And Eddie Dear was happy." and i think that's because he really doesn't know if he is happy or not. Home is still strange because its obviously the one thing that Eddie fixates on when he first gains sentience, but I don't think its what shook him out of just being a puppet only.

Eddie is also so obviously playing along with the idea of Homewarming and doesn't actually know much about it. But he's not letting the others know this, as when he's alone is when he tells himself to just "focus on the festivities" instead of the other confusing parts of Homewarming. When he's with Poppy decorating the tree (with turkey...? and gravy...?) He just makes it seem like what they're doing is a no brainer, and something everyone does during the holidays.

But when he starts spiraling at the party, all of the things he helped decorate look strange and confusing to him. He can't focus on anything, staring into the wallpaper makes it seem worse, and the fabric of his own reality is literally being ripped at the seams (there's just an excessive amount of video tearing which I equate to Eddie's sense of sanity at the moment and just how present he really is)

It's here that Eddie finally realizes just what they're doing, and what everything really truly looks like. Eddie even tries to focus solely on Frank's face to sort of ground him, but the goddamned credits for the episode itself is playing over Frank's face and obscuring his vision. The scene itself wants to move on but Eddie is still able to see what the audience normally wouldn't be able too, and that split from his reality to ours is what makes him freak out in the end.

#welcome home update #welcome home #happy homewarming #welcome home theory #eddie dear #welcome home spoilers

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jingsyuans · 1 month

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Only you (and a certain lieutenant) know that Jing Yuan has a tattoo.

The reason you know is because you were the one who gave it to him in the first place. You hadn’t ever planned on giving him one- but somehow, someday, he comes into your shop. You’re used to seeing war veterans come in, but the esteemed general of the Luofu? No, you wouldn’t ever even think to expect that. Especially not paired with his lieutenant that’s smug and giggling beside him.

You can’t help but ask. While he may be a man of high status, he’s in your turf. “Well well well, the Divine Foresight… has lost a bet, I assume?” You look at Jing Yuan- to be honest, you’re a little awed that he’s actually this close, but you don’t want to let that show- and then to his lieutenant, who you know is named Yanqing. You were on the Luofu when the general first put him in the ranks- oh, that was so long ago- and you remembered the controversy about the subject.

Yet Jing Yuan had always had this air to him. He was steadfast in his decision and unwavering even when it came to public opinion, as if he knew something that no one else did.

Perhaps his uncaring attitude toward PR helps with the decision to get a tattoo. Must be a nightmare for the others working for him that are trying to uphold his reputation, but that’s none of your business. Tattoos are your business.

“Ah, how did you know?” Jing Yuan answers your query moments later, a relaxed slant in his shoulders despite the situation. You give him an amused look as you lean on your counter.

“I’ve been doing this a long time. If you were the type to get tattoos, I most likely would have had you as a customer much sooner than this.” That being said, you look to Yanqing. “I’ll bite. What’s the tattoo?”

And Yanqing, the adorable little spirit that he is, shakes his head. Jing Yuan shakes his head as well.

“I’m not supposed to know,” the general says, and you let out a sound of understanding, quirking your brow at the boy.

“Well, let’s hear it. But I don’t know how comfortable I am becoming an enemy of the general, so keep it civil, okay?”

You lean over the counter, and Yanqing comes closer with his hand cupped over his mouth, and he whispers the tattoo idea in your ear. Your eyebrows raise and you hum, looking over at him and the general with a thoughtful click of your tongue.

“Well?” Yanqing looks at you. “Will you do it?”

You smile, all teeth and squinty eyes, crinkled nose, unaware of the twitch in Jing Yuan’s composure. “Where am I inking?” You ask, confirming the deal.

There’s a lot of good ideas and what they present. Maybe on his back, around the shoulder blade area. Getting to see all that muscle and have your hands on him, and at least he can’t see you. You’re a professional, but yeah, he’s hot.

Or it could be a tattoo on his arm. Having to sit face to face with him and his strong arm completely pliant in your hold… his eyes always on you.

“Maybe on his chest. No one will see that, right?” Yanqing proposes when you’re pitching ideas back and forth, only the two of you really able to since Jing Yuan doesn’t know the design. You hum loudly, pretending to think it over before shaking your head.

“Mm… I don’t think I’m gonna do that. What about his shoulder?”

You don’t think you’d be able to handle it. You’re a professional, you remind yourself again, but the idea of tattooing and touching the general’s admittedly pillowy chest isn’t something you think you can handle. Jing Yuan chuffs as you get Yanqing to move on from the idea and you side eye him, wondering if he knows. From the way he smiles, he probably does.

And then there’s the actual tattooing part. How the small talk fluctuates- Jing Yuan is clearly a good conversationalist, but you notice how he keeps the topic on yourself instead of him. To be expected, you suppose; but at some point you tell him as you focus on the line of your pen that you don’t really think it’ll do him any harm to enjoy himself. So, what’s your favorite snack?

Little do you know how charming you are. Perhaps you do know, but not in the ways that catches Jing Yuan’s eye. The way you snort when you laugh. That crinkle in your nose. It was endearing how cute you were in this kind of element with the rap music vibrating off the walls and your ripped up jeans and tattooed arms. It’s all very different than what he’s used to but it’s very apparent that it suits you. All this.

So he gives in. The two of you bounce off one another as he doesn’t seem affected in the slightest about the needle digging in his skin (another non-surprise). He tells you his favorite snack and other harmless things. You’re good company.

And when the tattoo is revealed- ha, it’s almost funny! No, not the tattoo. It’s actually quite tasteful, and it suits him- though he never doubted Yanqing, he acknowledges that he gave the boy the opportunity to do anything and he didn’t break his general’s trust. “You’re quite the artist,” he compliments you, looking at the design in the mirror. He just can’t believe that it’s on him. His skin. And it looks good.

“You look great,” you reaffirm, nodding in self satisfaction as you grin down at him from where he’s seated. “Yanqing did a good job picking it out. You think you’re going to keep it?”

Said-boy had wandered off several hours ago, after he realized how long and slightly boring the process was.

Jing Yuan hums, looking back at the design. “I make good on my promises. It isn’t only a tattoo, but now a fond memory,” he starts to put his clothes back on- reminding you how he’s half naked and you look away to give him some privacy.

“Smooth talker,” you quip, and he laughs.

“Old habit. But my words are true.” Then he tilts his head. “How much do I owe you?”

You nearly hesitate. It was a privilege in and of itself to get this opportunity. But before you can even try to say anything about not getting paid, Jing Yuan is already tutting and shaking his head.

“I will be paying you. You worked hard and your time is valuable. I don’t want to do anything to imply that it’s not worth the money.”

Of course. You relent with an easy going sigh and give him the price. When you recommend he buy some materials to help keep the tattoo clean and healthy, he does so without even blinking, adding up to the amount he owes. It’s strange to take money from his hand, but business is business.

More can happen from here but the end result is that a part of you, your penmanship, is on the general’s body for the rest of his long life. He may even come in to get it touched up a few times when it begins to fade.

You couldn’t be more different, as he is an esteemed general and you’re a grunge tattoo artist, but that’s what makes it interesting.

#maybe he gets a lion or smth who knows #anyway this came out of nowhere GOODBYE #pls reblog this I actually like this one ;_;#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan reader insert #honkai star rail #jing yuan #honkai x reader

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